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stevesbestgirl · 11 months

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Dreamweaver

Dream of the Endless x f!Reader

Warnings: mentions of depression, a few curses, briefly mean!Morpheus, soulmate tattoo bs, I took liberties with the lore

A/N: I started this forever ago when I was dealing with some stuff with my brother, so if it feels like a self-insert 🤷‍♀️ (no descriptions of reader's appearance)

5775 words

"Dream."

Lord Morpheus, also known as Dream of the Endless, raised his head from his desk, where he was pouring over a book.

"Dream!"

He heaved a sigh, pinching the bridge of his nose before standing.

"Dream of the Endless, I hold your sigil and I call to you."

"Yes Death, I am on my way to my gallery as we speak."

"Forget your gallery, come here."

Morpheus suppressed a sigh. But with a sound suspiciously like the flutter of a raven's feathers, Dream disappeared from his library, appearing instead beside his sister. Death's gaze did not waver; she appeared to be watching a young pair seated on a mattress on the floor of a simple bedroom. One, a young woman, seemed to be comforting the other, a young man with enough resemblance to be a sibling.

Dream spared only a quick glance, "Why am I here, sister?"

Death finally tore her gaze from the two mortals, "Can't you see it?"

Morpheus watched the pair again, unsure of what he was supposed to be seeing.

"Maybe I'm just bad. That's why she left." Dream could see the wisps of despair puffing up around the boy, evaporating like drops of water on a hot pan.

"You took the fall when I broke Mallory's lamp when we were ten. Don't tell me you're bad," the woman insisted despite her soft tone. "And nothing you did made Bella leave."

"Yeah, I guess so."

Dream's gaze swiveled back to his sister, "I am unsure what it is I should be seeing."

Death huffed impatiently, "Open your mind for just one moment and consider that a mortal may surprise you." When he still stared at her, his jaw growing tight with impatience, she rolled her eyes, "She's dream weaving, Dream. You of all people should be able to tell."

"The dream weavers died out hundreds of years ago."

Death grabbed her stubborn brother by the shoulder, twisting him to face the girl again, "Watch."

Dream watched, albeit a bit disdainful, as the young woman continued to speak. She offered musings about their past. Their childhood seemed to have been a difficult one. But she made jokes, reminiscing and reflecting on what they could learn- how they could create better for themselves. And then he saw it.

Human consciousness, all consciousness really, clung to the Dreaming with tethers. Needless to say, humans clung particularly closely compared to most other sentient life. Each dream, though they varied in strength, was a connection to the dreaming. When a being began to lose the will to live, those tethers weakened.

Her brother's tethers were weak; not quite on the brink of severing, but looking rather exhausted. And while it wasn't possible for her to strengthen the tethers- only their owner could do that, she was reinforcing their connection to the Dreaming. The dreams she was sharing were indeed woven into an intricate web, right on the cusp of his realm.

Her own web was vast, ethereal silver glimmering in elaborate knots and designs, each one a waking dream. This girl's very existence was tied up in his realm.

His only show of emotion was a small parting of his lips, but that was enough for Death. "I told you so."

Dream said nothing, watching the girl speak.

"What are you thinking, brother?" Death prompted, clearly awaiting some kind of response.

"It appears that a new age of Dreamweavers may be upon us, sister."

"Are you going to speak to her?"

"I suppose I am duty-bound to make contact. Soon, more like her will appear, if they haven't already. If they go on unsupervised, they could damage the realm."

Death cocked an eyebrow, "Why do you sound so reluctant? You've never had issue with dream weavers in the past, have you?"

"Not yet. But I have an odd feeling about this one."

After departing with Death, Morpheus tasked Matthew with keeping an eye on the girl. She stayed with her brother through the night, the pair of them departing early in the morning and returning a short while later with what appeared to be a third sibling.

Only once the two young men were in each other's company did the girl leave, returning to her own home a short distance away.

She seemed lost in her own thoughts as she puttered around the house, cleaning up odds and ends before changing into a tee-shirt and climbing into bed. Underneath her eyes, dark circles were beginning to swell. She was exhausted.

Morpheus almost felt bad for her; this sleep would not be as restful as she might be expecting.

Y/N always had vivid dreams, both waking and while asleep. But she immediately knew tonight was different. Dressed in nothing but her tee-shirt and underwear, her bare feet were chilled against the dark stone floor underfoot.

A shadowed figure sat in a throne at the head of the large room, as though waiting for her.

"Hello?" She took a hesitant step forward, hands clinging to the too-short hem of her tee-shirt, which was barely covering the tops of her thighs.

"Approach, Y/L, L/N."

She did as the voice instructed, stepping forward on unsteady legs. It was male, authoritative and nearly stern. But it wasn't aggressive, or even raised in volume. He simply spoke and expected compliance.

It was also beautiful, deeply toned and unrushed in its delivery. He had an accent she couldn't identify, her mind reeling with thoughts as she approached the throne, still cloaked in shadow.

She felt exposed, painfully aware of his gaze on her. She gave her shirt another nervous tug down, trying to make sure she was covered. Swallowing the lump in her throat, she asked, "What is this place?"

The silence stretched, her fingers abandoning the hem of her shirt in favor of fidgeting with the cuticles of her fingernails. But her hands parted hastily and she sucked in a gasp as she suddenly found herself fully clothed in a pair of dark jeans, socks, boots, and a black jacket over her tee-shirt.

She was relieved for both the privacy and warmth granted by the clothes, but her heart was pounding at the magic, "Am I dreaming?"

The figure remained in shadow, "Yes," he confirmed. "But more importantly, you are in the Dreaming."

She blinked, willing her eyes to make out the figure in the dark as questions bubbled up inside her, "And that would make you-?"

He rose slowly from his chair, towering over her at his full height, somehow still shrouded in shadow, "I am Dream of the Endless, creator of the Dreaming, King of Nightmares."

It suddenly became quite clear to her as she gazed up at him that he wanted her to be intimidated. The question of why still loomed.

"King of Dreams then too, right?" She couldn't find it within herself to give him the reaction he wanted, king or no king.

His voice remained level, "Yes."

"Am I forbidden from laying eyes on the King of Dreams?" She cocked her eyebrow, only slightly, in a challenge. She took a step backwards, inviting him to step into the light.

There was another long pause before he answered, "No, you are not." But instead of moving, the shadows seemed to loosen, pale skin blooming behind the darkness until his face was wholly visible.

It seemed the perfect match for his voice, slim with sharp cheekbones and a shock of deep ebony hair. Long, dark lashes framed his eyes, which were dark, almost entirely black in a way that should have been eerie. But they glimmered like stars, little specks of light dancing deep within their depths and seeming to invite her inside. She felt as though she was falling forward until the darkness swallowed her up.

But inside was far from dark. It was a massive stretch of blackness, yes, but far from nothing. The black was a canvas, swirling with color and light and looking like entire galaxies.

A mess of incoherent thought washed over her, driving her own thoughts from her mind. The galaxy showed her a beautiful woman. She felt insecurity, fear, but also something warm and safe she could only describe as love. Then she saw the sun, but the sun as she'd never seen it before. The sun through the eyes of someone who couldn't go blind. And then came pain, rejection, grief-

"You should not be here."

Then she was back in the throne room, balled up on the floor, her cheeks wet with tears. She sat up, hastily wiping her cheeks, but Dream was already hauling her up by the shoulder of her tee-shirt, her extra layer of clothing stripped away in an instant, "You dare to invade my mind?" His dulcet tones were reduced to a mere hiss. "As the King of Dreams, it is my responsibility to warn you that if you or others like you meddle in the affairs of my realm, it will cost you dearly. It seems that every time I show compassion to a human, you are determined to make me regret it. Cross my path again and you will not receive such mercy a second time."

She wanted to plead with him, to make him understand that it had been an accident. She didn't even understand what she'd done- were those his thoughts?

His change in demeanor stung more than it should have. But his sudden rage combined with what little she'd seen made it clear he would not leave himself vulnerable to her, and perhaps for good reason.

"I apologize for any offense, it was not my intent. I will do my best not to get in your way again." She offered him a sad smile, "And I'm sorry for your suffering."

His eyes glimmered in a brooding smolder and then she found herself jolting awake in her bed, a sheen of sweat glittering on her skin. She made a half-hearted attempt to tell herself it had only been a dream, but there was no denying what she'd seen- what she'd felt.

She felt out of place going back to her everyday life, but her work wouldn't wait for her. And there was plenty left to do for her brother, so she put it behind her, hoping that whatever she had done to draw the King of Dreams' ire was a one-time thing. Their interaction had left a lingering bad taste in her mouth.

She had hoped that her responsibilities would drive the memory from the front of her consciousness, but it continued to creep up on her each time she had a moment to breathe, haunting her rare moments of rest with nightmares. She suspected the King of Nightmares was wholly capable of sentencing her to a lifetime of nighttime terrors, but she wasn't convinced this was his intention. But if she was connected to Dream, as he'd called himself, the only way to fix it would be to visit the Dreaming again.

And now she was thinking about it again. She gave herself a shake; she had another long night ahead of her. So she turned up the music in her car and left for her brother's apartment.

"I thought I might see you back here, brother." Death looked smug as Dream appeared beside her in the same place they'd watched from last time.

"And why are you here again, Death?"

"To catch you in the act, obviously."

Dream made a disapproving noise at her joke, but didn't press further. He watched as she and her brother played a video game together. He'd done some reading in her book after her uninvited foray into his mind, though mostly out of spite. It had done nothing to reassure him that he'd acted appropriately.

Her childhood had not been an easy one. Teenage parents, poverty, and drug use had rendered her functional guardian to her two younger siblings at a young age. Once he arrived at the abuse resulting from her first romantic relationship, he'd stopped reading.

The two Endless watched for quite some time before speaking again, but surprisingly to Death, it was Dream who broke the silence. "Why are you truly here, sister?"

"It is part of my responsibilities to check on the humans whose ties grow weak."

"Do you spend this long on every one?"

She huffed a sigh, "No." Stealing a glance at Y/N, she admitted, "When she weaves the dreams, that strengthens the connection, giving a weak tie more time to recover."

Dream tipped his head, "Yes, as you explained last time."

"I'm starting to suspect that the dream she's woven around the center tether may be permanent."

"Is such a thing possible?"

"I don't know. Like you said, this could be a new kind of dream weaver." They both watched her laugh, drawing a laugh from her brother as well. "I wish I could just ask her what she's capable of."

Dream looked back on the way the girl had collapsed in his throne room, realization making his stomach sink, "She is unaware of her abilities."

"As far as I can tell." At Dream's silence, Death glanced at him sharply, "Why do I get the sense that you may have done something foolish?"

Dream was silent, reassessing his interaction with this new information. He'd brought her into his realm, exposed and confused, then put on a show of being intimidating and immediately lost his temper, resorting to threats and expulsion.

He refused to feel shame over actions taken to protect his realm, but he couldn't identify the strange pit that seemed to have opened in his gut. She likely thought him a monster, a nightmare himself instead of their king.

"Dream, what did you do?"

Death's voice broke him from his stupor, though he kept his gaze on the girl, "I brought her to my realm and lost my temper."

Death couldn't suppress an eye roll, but Dream didn't seem to notice, "What was it this time?"

"I suspect one of those new abilities allows her access to memory."

There was a long pause. "She got inside that thick skull of yours?"

Dream broke his gaze to send his sister a scathing look, "Yes."

Death sent her an appraising glance, "She seems to be holding up rather well, all things considered." It was meant to be a joke, but Dream thought the circles under her eyes were damning.

"You are typically far slower to admit you are wrong, so I ask you again, brother, what are you doing here?"

"After my meeting with the girl, I spent an entire evening working on new dreams and nightmares. It was the best work I've done in ages."

Now Death did smirk, "She inspired you then? Is she your latest muse?"

"My days of muses are behind me, sister. Aside from the fact that she is a mortal, my realm needs my full attention."

"Of course, brother."

That night, when Y/N fell asleep in her bed, she found herself back in the throne room. Muttering a curse under her breath, she stood, grateful that she'd slept in a pair of shorts this time.

"Approach, Y/N."

She did not obey the voice this time, stubbornly remaining in place and gazing resolutely into the dim light, which was only slightly improved from her first visit.

A moment, then two, passed before there came a sigh. "Very well." Several long strides later the King of Dreams had left his throne to stand before her. She avoided his eyes, afraid to repeat her mistakes.

"Dream King."

"Yes, I suppose I deserve that as well."

Tipping up her chin, she nodded, "You do." She seemed to catch herself, "I'm afraid I'm not sure what I did to end up back here."

"I brought you here- in both instances. You've done nothing wrong, I have realized too late."

She was stunned. She hesitantly met his gaze, relieved when her feet remained planted on the floor.

Dream held his expression steady and nodded, "I apologize for my prior behavior."

She surprised herself by tipping her head, "Thank you." She chewed her lip for a moment, "I'm sorry too. For before. I'm really not sure how I did it."

She knew she didn't have the leverage to flaunt a grudge against the Kind of Dreams. She was pleased with her own politeness, but she would not trust easily.

Dream was silent for a long pause, "What exactly did you see?"

She looked away, "Not much. A woman- a beautiful woman. The sun. And I felt-" His eyes seemed to pull her gaze back in, "I felt some of your pain, I think."

"I apologize."

Her brow furrowed, "For your suffering?"

He shook his head, "For yours, at my hands. We have much to discuss, but you will not struggle with nightmares from tonight on."

The corner of her mouth twitched upwards in a smile, "So, I can rest assured?"

Dream either didn't catch the pun or was ignoring it, nodding, "You may. Now come, have a seat." He led her back toward his throne, where a small tea table and a wooden chair sat on the dais beside his own.

She waited, watching him take his seat on the throne before she sat on the wooden chair, ruefully thinking of her own chair at home. And then it was her chair she was sitting in. No sound or movement accompanied the change, it simply was.

Dream raised an eyebrow, as if challenging the action, "Did you just alter the Dreaming?"

Face flushing with warmth, she stumbled over her words, "Not with intention."

His gaze seemed inquisitive, "Have you always manipulated the Dreaming so skillfully?"

She raised a brow, a reluctant smile forming at the corner of her mouth, "I'm not sure that was a compliment."

"Simply an observation."

"Sounds a bit sinister though, doesn't it? 'Manipulating the Dreaming.'"

"What would you call it if someone were to create their own clay sculpture on a block already used by someone else?" Dream wasn't offended by the action so much as he was curious.

"If it serves a new function, I would call it repurposing," she replied thoughtfully.

There was a long pause, "Indeed." She couldn't decipher his tone. "What if I told you that the person who made the original sculpture also created the clay? And that the only clay that would ever exist was his creations."

She sobered up a little, "I'm sorry if I've ruined your work. Once again, not my intention. I have a lot to learn about your realm."

His gaze trailed over the chair she'd conjured, noting the details. The golden colored thread in the stitching that glinted in the dim light of the throne room. The slight wear to the fabric around the arms. Dreams were often vague, even half-formed, because mortals struggled to shape the Dreaming. But Dream suspected he'd find a perfect match to this chair if he were to visit her home.

"Clay is never ruined for having been used for creation. However, some do not take kindly to their working being- repurposed. But that is what I brought you here to discuss."

She gave him a nod, "I'm listening."

His dark gaze seemed to pierce her, "You are something known as a dream weaver. Historically, dream weavers used their abilities to tether many humans to the same dream."

She blinked at him, expression blank for a long time, "I don't mean any disrespect, but could you be mistaken?"

"I could be, but my sister is almost certainly not."

"Your sister?"

"Death."

She shook her head, trying to clear the thoughts that had grown thick and slow.

"Why would you want humans to have the same dreams?"

"Back in the early days of human development, human dreams were chaotic and disorganized. Dream weavers helped drive human development by uniting many humans under the same dream."

"Dreams affect human development?"

That drew a surprising chuckle from the Dream King, "Dreams are human development. The world exists as it is because of dreams- because of the Dreaming." There was a marked note of pride in his voice at that.

"Everything?"

"Everything."

"So like, the depths of the ocean and all the scary stuff down there was all dreamed up by humans?" He nodded. "What about space- the entire greater solar system? Is any of that real?"

"Created by dreams, but very real." She took a moment to process that, stifling a sigh. "You are displeased?" Dream raised a curious brow.

"That's a very human-centric reality. I kind of liked it when we were just little specks of dust among the vastness of the uncharted cosmos."

The corner of his mouth lifted in almost a smile, "You still are. But only because humans have dreamed it so."

"How have we survived this long? It seems to me that human beings have a tendency to destroy more than we create."

"Humans can be very destructive. But they are also very clever. No other species has demomstrated such an capability to dream up solutions to its problems like humans."

"So like, climate change. The solution to all of the pollution, to the whole climate crisis, exists?"

"Not exactly. It may or may not exist now. But it could exist if enough humans were to dream of it."

She rested her head in her palm, forcing a breath; she was starting to get light headed. This was overwhelming. Her next breath did not come as easily as the first, a fact not unnoticed by the Dream King.

"Are you alright?"

"I-" she swallowed hard, trying to get past the lump in her throat, "I think I'm having a panic attack."

Dream calmly reached out and brushed his hand over her forehead, his intent to soothe her distress. Instead, a sharp spike of heat burst through his palm, quickly going icy. He heard her gasp, but couldn't tear his gaze away as the trails of ice left behind dark lines of deep purple criss-crossing over his wrist.

"What the fuck?" Her voice was barely over a whisper, the only evidence of distress the high-pitched strain that overtook her tone. Tearing his eyes from his hand, he saw the same design decorating her hand in a blue so dark it was almost black.

Her wide-eyed gaze flicked up to his, "Did you-" She left the question unfinished, not wanting to make an accusation and unsure of what to ask even if she did.

"No."

"Do you know what this is?"

"No." His voice had gone cold and hard, just like it had been their first time meeting. Her eyes flicked back to the lines marking her skin and Dream saw the panic begin to rekindle in them.

After only a split second of hesitation, he pressed his palm to her forehead again, "Sleep, now. We will speak again soon."

Her eyes grew cloudy, but she fought against his magic with surprising vigor, "No- the- n-nightmares-"

Dream's hand seemed to slide down over her cheek to cup her face of its own accord as her eyes started to glisten with fear, "You will suffer no bad dreams tonight, Dreamweaver."

And as she faded from his realm, her consciousness joining her body in sleep, Death's words about the girl's resilience to seeing inside his head echoed again. But the lines swirling over his wrist stretched from his fingertips all the way up his forearm, nearly to the elbow, demanding his attention. They were delicate, weaving together and knotting at the crossroads between, like a tangle of flower stems and intricate lace. And at the apex of it all, the palm of his hand had an empty circle at the center.

As he stared at the mark on his hand, Dream of the Endless felt something he was neither accustomed to or fond of- he felt lost.

"You look like a kicked puppy today, brother," Death remarked, not breaking pace on her way to the next destination. The city street seemed to blur behind her, though her pace appeared normal. Dream's long strides quickly made up the distance, though he said nothing.

Death's raised eyebrow slowly lowered as she noticed the markings on his hand. "It appears that congratulations are in order."

The frown lines on his face only seemed to grow more pronounced.

"Unless-"

"Unless." Dream was unamused.

"Unless you are not pleased to have found your soulmate."

If he were mortal, those words might have rung in his ears, the vibrations enough to make everything he'd known crumble. But they were not enough because he was not mortal and he did not have a soulmate.

"You believe such foolishness, sister?"

"You are so confident it is foolish with the evidence staring you right in the face?"

"This?" He raised his right hand, "This is not evidence. I have never encountered such delusion in any text or reading-"

"And you will not. But if you sought out the people who can remember the farthest back in human history, they would remember."

"If it is so certain, why is it not documented?" Dream sounded annoyed that it was becoming more difficult to be skeptical.

"It is. But it has been changed in writings, splintered and embellished, transformed into something not quite the same. They never quite get it right. But they dream of it. Surely you have seen that."

"I have. Yet I have never met a mortal with markings like this."

Death suppressed a chuckle at his determination to disprove her theory, "I myself have not seen a soul mate marking in a long time. But they exist. I suspected as soon as you'd told me the girl got in your head."

"I suppose that was a sign as well," he mused bitterly.

"Yes, it was. Why are you so determined not to believe, Morpheus? You aren't usually the type to ignore evidence. I thought you would be happy."

"Happy at a cruel joke? Even if I accepted this as truth, it is clearly the result of Desire's interference once again."

Death shook her head, "Soul mates go even beyond Desire."

"Then why is my soul mate a human?" he demanded. "Am I meant to destroy human-kind in my pursuit of happiness, sister?" He knew he was being unfair, demanding such answers from his sister, but he would not allow her to light the hope inside him. He would not have what he wanted, that much he knew.

"Of course you aren't. I don't have all the answers, Dream. But be patient. They will make themselves clear over time."

That was not what he wanted to hear. "Thank you, sister. I must go." And he did, leaving Death alone just as a sigh fell from her lips.

All day long, Y/N got remarks about the lines twisting up her wrist. After a night of blissfully peaceful sleep, she woke up feeling refreshed, taking a moment to examine the designs that had followed her from her dreams.

The lines had filled in more since while she slept. What had been dainty lines had thickened to nearly an eighth of an inch- she'd measured. What was more, the deep, rich blue that had made up the original color was deeper now, with glimmers of royal purple, black, and the occasional glint of something golden- like a raven's wings.

The lines seemed to connect at every possible juncture. The empty circle at the heart of her palm seemed like the center, although she didn't quite understand why.

There was a lot she didn't understand; why did she have a tattoo at all? It wasn't exactly normal to wake up with new ink. And based on the Dream King's reaction, it was also not normal for ancient royalty to find themselves with a flash tattoo. But she would hopefully get more answers tonight.

She was embarrassed- mortified actually, at the way she'd freaked out last night. But she had to go back. He'd called her a Dreamweaver, whatever that meant.

But when she climbed into bed that night, she tossed and turned, anxious thoughts keeping her mind active. She felt a strange sense of trepidation whenever she visited the Dreaming; she wasn't exactly in a hurry to piss off the Dream King any more than she already had at their first meeting. But more concerning than the shadow of fear was the sliver of excitement at the prospect of seeing him again.

Despite her efforts to convince herself it was the remnants of the dream, muddling her emotions, even now she could feel his pull. She could practically feel him waiting for her on the other side of her consciousness. And when she finally did drift off to sleep, she never reached a state of rest.

Instead, she found herself seated in the chair she had left behind the night before in the throne room of what she presumed was the Dream Castle. Dream was waiting for her, his throne no longer shrouded in shadow. In fact, the whole throne room was warm and well-lit, her breath catching as she gazed around at the stunning architecture.

"Did you sleep well?" Dream's voice broke her stupor, somehow managing to catch her off guard.

"What?" Her head snapped to the throne, where he was waiting.

She watched the corner of his mouth curl up in a faint smirk, "You were concerned about nightmares, if I recall."

"Oh. No- yes, I um, slept fine." She wasn't sure why she was so flustered.

Dream let out a low hum, "Excellent."

She wasn't sure what to say, especially since Dream hadn't seemed to be in the best temper when she'd been here last. She had questions, starting with what had happened to her arm and ending with what the hell it actually meant to be a Dreamweaver.

"I'm sure you have questions."

She nodded, "A couple, yes."

"I will answer to the best of my ability."

Though her gaze lingered on the marks on her arm, the words that came out were, "What do I need to know about being a Dreamweaver?"

Dream was pensive before answering, "You must remember that the Dreaming, no matter how it responds to you, is my realm. What I say goes." You had to consciously suppress the shiver that wanted to rattle you at the intense way he held your gaze while he spoke.

She nodded, "You mentioned others- who may not take kindly to my abilities."

That elicited another pause, "That question leads to many more questions. Rest assured, I will provide an overview on my siblings, but not tonight."

She bit back the torrent of follow-ups and asked instead, "Are there more like me?"

He gave his head a solemn shake, "There were a great many Dreamweavers at one point in time. But eventually they stopped emerging and died out."

"No immortality then, I take it?" She was only joking, but he shook his head seriously. She suddenly felt shy meeting his eyes, "Are you immortal?"

He cocked his head like he was determining her intentions, "Not as you might think. I am not mortal- I do not age, grow old, or die by natural causes. Though it is exceedingly difficult, I can be killed."

The silence seemed to stretch as she processed what she had just learned. Everything should have seemed overwhelming- she shouldn't believe it. But she could feel the truth of it.

Finally, she held up a clenched fist, her eyes on the dark lines glistening in the light, "What is this?"

Dream was silent for so long that she almost asked again, but he finally said softly, "It is a soul bond."

Her gaze flicked to his eyes; the dancing lights there seemed to be waiting for her reaction. Then it fell to his own left hand, where the matching lines seemed so much more elegant on his pale skin.

"What does that mean?" She asked even though she already suspected.

"I do not know." That caught her off guard; she expected him to know everything. He certainly seemed to know more than she did.

She surprised him by asking, "Is there anything you want to ask me?"

He'd expected her to push for more information. "Have you always had these abilities?"

She offered a chagrined smile, "I didn't even know I had abilities, to be honest."

"You are quite skilled."

He made a vague hand gesture and she wasn't sure what he'd done. Then she caught a glimpse of light above her head, her mouth falling open at the intricate web of silvery white that seemed to hover over her head. She didn't quite understand how she had created this masterpiece of dreams, but she believed him.

It took her a moment to realize that he had paid her a compliment, "Oh- thank you." Her face felt a bit hot. "I have another question." At his nod, she continued, "Will I see you again?"

She couldn't explain it, since his eyes were so difficult to read, but he seemed pleased as he mulled that over, "You are not bound to me; you are free to go back to your life. But should you have need of the Dreaming, it is always here. I trust you can make your way back."

She couldn't place why she felt as though he were flirting with her; he clearly avoided expressing any kind of desire to see her again of his own volition.

She felt the urge to admit she wanted to see him again, grateful to her own good sense for stopping her before the words formed. Dream hadn't spelled out what kind of being he was to her, but she knew he was likely high above whatever a 'soul bond' meant. He was the definition of being out of someone's league.

So she nodded her head, "Thank you, Dream King."

A beat of silence. "Morpheus. You may call me Morpheus."

Her lips curled into a half-smile, "Thank you, Morpheus."

He wasn't prepared for how his name sounded when spoken from her lips. She wasn't prepared for the soft smile that graced his handsome face. Even solemn, he was beautiful. But a smile, faced directly at her- because of her- it was like knowing the sun was shining because of her.

She was so unprepared that she blinked, waking up in her own bed, her heart beating rapidly in her chest. A wave of emotions washed over her; loss, frustration, hope, longing. She felt desperate to fall back asleep, to see that smile grace Morpheus' face again. But if that was going to happen, she would have to go to him.

#dream of the endless #dream of the endless x reader #morpheus #morpheus x reader #dreamweaver #dream of the endless fluff #morpheus fluff #one shot

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eviesaurusrex · 2 years

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“ɪ ᴛᴏʟᴅ ʏᴏᴜ ɪ ᴡᴏᴜʟᴅ ꜰɪɴᴅ ʏᴏᴜ.” | ʟᴏʀᴅ ᴍᴏʀᴘʜᴇᴜꜱ

Lord Morpheus x Deity!Reader (Goddess of Nature and Music)

summary: After being killed by Roderick Burgess during her attempts to free her husband, YN returns to Morpheus shortly after he himself reincarnated (kind of pt. 2 to »this one«)

word count: 5k oooops…?

warnings: mentions of death, mentions of the Afterlife, reincarnation, angst, but super fluff, like, seriously, this is a fluffy cloud of cotton candy, Death, Lucienne, Mervyn, and Matthew as trusty wing people

author’s note: This idea is presented to you by a comment written by @writing-fanics under my first ever Morpheus work: “we meet him again but when he’s reincarnated as Daniel Hall 👉👈 that’s my headcannon to make me happy after reading this the third time”. I could not not write this one out after I succeeded in breaking my own heart with the first fanfic for my baby 🥺 We imagine that Morpheus looks the same and has kept every memory after his reincarnation, but they have to be triggered, thank you, bye

Disclaimer: I have never read the comics (yet), and I’m still watching season one, so this is just my take on it. Please, don’t come for my head, would be much appreciated 👉🏻👈🏻 But I deliberately changed the happenings of episode 1 in order to let my baby have his vengeance. So, that’s on purpose!

;

“Okay, scenario time,” Matthew’s voice reverberated through the soothingly lit library in the Dreaming and called Lucienne and Mervyn to attention. The librarian peeked expectantly over her round glasses while Merv turned away from the stack of books to eye the flying raven cautiously. Recently, the bird had acted weirdly every time he had returned from the Waking World, and every time it had gotten more and more concerning. “What is it this time, Matthew? The beheaded ghost of Anne Boleyn?” Lucienne exchanged glances with the pumpkin head, suppressing a barely noticeable grin before cocking both eyebrows at the black bird.

Matthew groaned—he wished he hadn’t spoken a word about that incident—but flapped his wings to detangle the ends of his feathers. He still wasn’t used to those either. “Very funny,” he seethed and tickled a rumbling chuckle out of the pumpkin’s mouth. Sometimes he wished he would’ve landed in hell instead of the presence of these two buttheads who never faltered to tease him. “Anyway,” the raven continued with a warning glare out of his black eyes, “Back to my totally hypothetical scenario. Is rebirth a thing? I’m still new to this stuff. Hadn’t had the time to read through every book.” To be quite honest, Matthew hadn’t touched a single book in here, not even those which Lucienne had put on a stack on one of the tables, just for him. He hadn’t been a big reader back in his days; he should be damned if he would start with it now.

Lost in his thoughts, Matthew didn’t realize the awful silence settling over the duo in front of him. Confused, he looked from one to the other. “What have I said or done now?!” Lucienne was the first to speak up. “Why are you asking, Matthew?” Her voice was laced with earnestness, and the raven stepped from one talon to the other. “No reason?” He didn’t sound convincing, even he heard that. “Matthew,” the librarian spoke in one of her warning tones, and the bird knew he couldn’t joke around anymore. “Fine! There is this teeny-tiny portrait Morpheus is carrying around with him. Like, all the damn time. And over which he is so protective, I wasn’t allowed to take a look or even ask him who that is. But…” Again, he stepped from one toe to the other before jumping from the stack of books he had landed on. “But?” Now even Mervyn urged him with the same unnerving tone Lucienne owned. “But a few weeks ago, he forgot to put it back in his pocket, and it lay open on one of the steps. So, yeah, I took a glance. Don’t give me that look, you two would have done the same!” Lucienne stood from her chair and moved closer to him. “Stop weaseling around the point, Matthew!”

The librarian knew whose features were depicted in the locket the lord carried around ever since Lucienne had handed it over to him. The thought alone of Lord Morpheus’ still lingering pain—even though he couldn’t put it to the proper memories connected to this feeling—made her heart ache as well—especially because she had known her as closely as one could know the former Queen of the Dreaming. They had considered each other dear friends, sharing the same passion for the written word and wisdom.

“Good lord, let me take a breather! Why are you so eager all of a sudden? Sheesh.” Her patience with this creature was almost depleted, and she would have loved to just shake a bit of sense into him. Instead, the librarian was content with using threatening words. “If you are not willing to tell me right in this instance what this nonsense is about, I will shake some sense into your feathery body!” Matthew stared up at her and took a small step back, putting some distance between them, but maneuvered him closer to Mervyn, who definitely wouldn’t help him if Lucienne decided to strangle the life out of him. “Okay, Okay! I’m sure I saw her wandering around in the Waking World! Happy?”

The bomb blew up and silence once more settled over the library. Lucienne continued to stare down at the raven, face unmoving and lacking any expression, while Mervyn plopped down onto one of the chairs standing next to the long wooden table. Matthew glanced from one to the other. “Why? Who is she? Someone important? Like his queen?” A chuckle escaped him at the thought of Morpheus being married and having a loving wife somewhere hidden in this palace. But at the sight of hurt and grief on the pumpkin’s face, even the cheeky raven grew quiet.

“She was his queen, yes,” Mervyn mumbled, leaning back in the chair. “She is his queen,” Lucienne corrected him, not having accepted the cruel fate her friend had endured. Merv sighed long and deep. “Her name was YN, and she was the only being he had ever wanted.” Matthew perked up. “YN as in YN, the Goddess of Nature and Music and all that?” Both nodded simultaneously. “She was killed by the same man who had captured our lord. And you are sure you saw her? Not some mortal only resembling her?” The raven nodded without a second thought after digesting the new information and the even more depressing backstory of his boss. “I’m pretty sure. She looked… lost. And I’m sure she saw me. Not only the raven but me.” And that had unsettled him so much that he had fled every time she had found him again. Yet, Matthew always returned to keep an eye on her, unable to stay away from her because somewhere deep down, he knew she was somehow different.

Lucienne exchanged glances with Mervyn. “Is it possible then?” The pumpkin head asked the librarian without hesitation, and she nodded equally as fast. “Reincarnation? Yes. Resurrection? Possibly? Death is the expert on the latter.”

And as if she had only waited for the perfect moment, Death of the Endless appeared in the middle of the library, displeasure evident on her face.

“Who of you found it screamingly funny to mingle with a soul?”

Now it was Matthew and Mervyn who exchanged glances before turning their eyes to Lucienne. “Seems likely possible,” the raven announced before the trio moved to look to the Endless, still waiting for an answer, arms crossed in front of her chest.

;

“Why the sudden need to visit the Waking World?” Morpheus’ soft voice asked Death, an edge of curiosity to it nonetheless, blue eyes resting on the passing people who didn’t heed the Endless’ existence nor presence entirely. His sister hummed shortly, but no word left her mouth—for now. Minutes passed by just like humans passed by. They stood on this spot on the street silently, right opposite a flourishing park, facing the lush green grass, the flower bushes, the high, looming, almost ancient trees.

“Death,” he warned lowly, not feeling pleased by this game she seemed to play with him. Impatience spread in his body, letting him experience the usual unresting feeling crushing into his muscles and bones, urging him to do anything. He had learned to despise this feeling. “The locket you carry.” Her sudden turn to face him surprised even him, and a black brow arched over his eye. “What about it?” He felt rather protective over the little piece Lucienne had handed him over, and he remembered the memory rising at the gesture vividly. The agony connected to it was something he had never experienced before. But instead of fading over time, it had manifested as a brick in his soul and heart; unwavering and unstoppable as soon as it once had taken hold of him.

Death observed him closely, witnessing the change in his eyes and the emotions dancing over his face. She was sure the memories were somewhere buried in his soul, and they only had to trigger them. It surprised her he didn’t unlock any of them at the first sight of her face after Lucienne had given him the small portrait right after he was reincarnated.

“You do know who she is, do you, brother?” Morpheus furrowed his forehead in concentration, trying to understand the meaning behind this—but a conclusion was nowhere to be seen. Death seemingly caught up to his train of thought because she slowly pointed in the direction of the blooming park opposite of them without letting him out of her sight. “I hope this will answer everything,” she mumbled, watching Morpheus as he slowly turned his head to watch the greenery and people passing. It was nothing out of the ordinary to see.

Not until she stepped out of the shadow of a willow tree into the beaming sunlight.

She strolled through the grass seemingly without a care in the world, face held upwards in the direction of the warming sun, eyes closed. He somehow knew that they were of an ever-changing color, always capturing him, even after eons of being his companion as soon as he had stepped into a room she had occupied, following him with an expression he only could describe as never-ending and undying love.

Morpheus could feel how his heart ached bitterly and agonizingly at the sight of her.

He watched her fingertips dance over flowers in full bloom, tickling an even brighter color out of their petals which stretched desperately in the direction of her life-gifting touch, craving her attention, constantly repositioning to her, as if she was the compass they had searched for decades without success. As if she was the sun to the sunflower in them. But not only the flowers reacted to her; even the grass seemed more green and lush in its color.

Morpheus wasn’t able to take his eyes off her—neither physically nor mentally. Not with the deeply felt emotions crashing against the high walls around his mind like a strong and wild tide, resembling her being. She might look like the damsel in distress, but all of a sudden, the Lord of Dreams knew with shocking clarity that she was anything but the damsel in desperate need of an assisting hand. And not just that.

He knew her.

A change within him followed this realization.

He felt the moment in which every single memory returned to his soul unscathed. Morpheus could flick through them like the pages of a book, and every picture was as clear as the sky of the Waking World above his head. He could remember their wedding vividly—remembered her smile as radiant as the stars above them while they promised to protect, cherish, and love one another.

Forever.

Whatever might lay ahead of them on their path through the centuries and eons.

Both brows softly rose over the pair of eyes, always lacking something in their depths which they held once without any doubt. The spark was there again, though—Death could see it clearly, could even feel it. The stars inside the blue seas attempted to return, but the hesitation of the Endless still too powerful to let them have their way.

Morpheus watched the woman, the goddess, his wife, with growing desperation from afar, feeling agitated. His only desire was to cross the street, to put the humans in his line of sight and Death behind him, wanted to pull her into his arms after he had stopped right in front of her. He wanted to see her face, to hear her voice, to feel her soft touch which had always reminded him of water gliding over stone, of a breeze caressing through the tall-growing grass and wheat in the Dreaming, of raindrops stealing daringly kisses and touches of petals and leaves.

He wanted everything from her she once had given him without so much as a fleeting thought.

Unbeknownst to himself, the King of the Dreaming and Lord of Dreams had taken a step closer to his very own dream, not paying any attention to his sister in his back or the raven that had landed on a branch next to the goddess. His black eye observed his boss looking dumbfounded over at the woman who resembled the most beautiful blooming flower ever seen by mortals and otherworldly beings.

And though she was above the Waking World, once a ruler of the Dreaming itself, she slowly sank down in front of a little girl, a tender expression settling on her face. The girl held a dying flower in her open palms; the stem snapped off the remaining plant and looked equally as crushed as the petals. Matthew smiled—as good as possible as a bird—at the picture of her softly raising her hand and returning the flower to its once beautiful existence, making the girl giggle and smile widely. YN smiled back—Morpheus felt as if his heart missed several beats at once—before resting a finger against her lips, and the girl nodded in understanding before rushing over to her mother, showing her newest possession proudly.

She raised back to her feet, and without a glance over her shoulder, she spoke up. “You can come out, raven, whose name I still do not know.” Matthew felt exposed but followed her words and landed softly on her shoulder. “Goddess,” he mumbled, and YN chuckled gently. “Ah, I see. And there I was, wondering why you did not leave just yet. Someone told you, I suppose?” He was able to take a glimpse of her eyes, and the raven would have to lie if he told the world they weren’t as mesmerizing as Lucienne had described them to him. Nodding, the raven made himself a bit more comfortable on her shoulder—if he had to choose, he would take her shoulder over his boss’s every time. He hoped no one would ever find out about that. A heavy sigh left her parted lips. “Then you surely must know that I am of no use anymore.”

Ever since she had awoken in the Waking World, YN had tried to find a way back into the Dreaming, back home. Before her—obviously not definitively—death, she had had the powers to come and go as she had pleased, but now, all there was left was silence and coldness. She couldn’t even feel the Dreaming anymore, which only let appear one conclusion in the front of her mind, and she didn’t dare to think about it further. In the first hours and days of her awakening, she had cried enough tears to form an entirely new river—unpurposely, of course.

Matthew cocked his head and tried to stare into her eyes. “No use?! What are you talking about? I call bullshit.” YN now herself cocked her head, mirroring the raven on her shoulder what he didn’t like, but was humored nonetheless. “So, you are a funny one. That did not happen in a very long time. Usually, ravens tend to be so earnest.” The raven had to chuckle at that. “I’m unique. But stop honey-ing me, missy! Care to enlighten me why you think you are useless?”

Now, every lightness was gone from her face, eyes, and body language. He could feel her muscles tense under his talons. “I cannot return. I cannot return to the Dreaming, not even after offering my powers. I cannot feel it.” I cannot feel my home, she thought to herself before continuing. “And if I cannot feel the Dreaming, the only possible reason is…” YN couldn’t speak it out loud but had to, so she took a breath. “The only reason is that he is dead. And without him, I cannot return home.” I do not wish to return home. Because what was a never-ending existence without the one she loved more than every flower, leaf, and music tune?

Matthew raised his head slowly, looking from the profile of her breathtakingly face over to his boss, still standing there like a damn tree growing roots. He saw how Death softly nudged him in their direction, and if he had a saying in this, he would’ve shoved him like there would be no tomorrow. Instead, he himself gently nudged her jaw to make YN turn her head. “But what if he is still here?” Matthew asked at the exact moment her eyes had found the man of her dreams.

And suddenly, everything stopped. There was no movement, no breathing life, no growing life. Only stasis. Except for them. In a very long time, YN hadn’t felt this much alive, not even in the wake of her awakening a handful of months back.

Morpheus could see the movement of her lips, letting no sound escape them—the sight of it brought him back to the memory of her last breath he had been damned to only observe instead of trying to save her. But other than a century before, she didn’t lose the spark of life in her eyes, didn’t go limp, didn’t show any signs of injuries or blood consuming the fabric of her clothes before it dripped onto the grass beneath her feet.

No, she was the epitome of life, and her light fueled him with something he hadn’t felt in a very long time: Hope. Happiness. Love. And he should be damned if he didn’t get to her only because he feared that this was his very own nightmare which he had conjured himself to torture his already tortured soul. He couldn’t lose her a second time. He wouldn’t lose her a second time.

With slow steps, even though he ached to stride over to her as fast as possible, he put the grey world behind him and stepped into the green paradise he yearned to have back in his life, in the Dreaming. His realm wasn’t itself, not without its queen. The soothing calm wrapped itself around him and his mind, caressing him softly with every step he took. It resembled her touch, but he knew that her skin against his was something even more glorious and ethereal. Something divine beyond comprehension.

None of them broke the contact of their gazes; they revolved around one another like planets in the grand universe, interdependent, as if one was the source of gravity of the other. Morpheus wasn’t sure if he should reach for her, if he should let his fingertips glide up her bare arm. But she took the burden of said decision upon herself as YN reached out for him, desperation and fear written all over her beautiful face, crystal tears burning in her eyes which just changed their color from the light blue of a summer sky to the evergreen of a dark forest. He felt as if his heart stopped beating entirely the moment the tips of her fingers were able to reach the back of his hand.

Both sucked a deep breath into their lungs, and while YN’s lips softly parted in utter surprise, Morpheus’ steps faltered. Inches still separated the couple, but he slowly turned his hand under her fingertips, moving it to let his palm face upwards, to feel her touch there because he suddenly remembered particular scenes throughout their existence. He was faced with the feeling of tender touches and the feeling of home; her fingertips following and drawing the lines on his palm, always while they lay together in their shared bed during the early morning hours, before she would press a feathery kiss to it and laid his hand atop her cheek to close her eyes for only a few more minutes. He felt the adoration swirling through him, knew that he had craved those moments every morning—even after centuries, after eons of their loving routine.

And even now, after everything that had happened to both of them, Morpheus felt his heart jumping in his chest as YN let her fingers glide over the upwards-facing palm. He watched her as closely as she watched him, her touch moving over the tender skin of his wrist before they lost contact again due to the fabric parting her touches from him. The woman in front of him took a last step in the same heartbeat as he took his last step toward her, not holding back anymore.

His hands cupped her neck lovingly, his long, elegant fingers reaching to the back of her head, his thumbs tenderly brushing over the line of her jaw. In the same instance, YN had buried the fingers of her left hand into the fabric of his black coat while her right hand cupped his cheek, the pad of her thumb caressing the skin above his cheekbone. Their gazes were still connected, diving into the deep seas, yearning for every emotion swimming in those dark pools.

“Morpheus.”

Her unbelieving whisper of his name—as if it was a prayer—was his downfall. Without wasting another second, another breath, another heartbeat, the Lord of Dreams bent his head and eyes closed at the mere anticipation before their lips collided in softness and loving movements. The desperation and urgency needed to wait for a different moment in the confinements of their private rooms in the Dreaming. Their passion had never been secondary, they had always heavily indulged in it, even if the timing was anything except perfect, but now, neither of them could think about something more important as the realization that this wasn’t another dream—or nightmare—that this was reality instead.

The reassurance of this fact in the form of tender kisses they shared without stopping to take a deep breath was more than enough. But even they had to part at some point—foreheads softly pressed against one another, fingers tangled in silky strands, chests fitting perfectly together, eyes still closed, savoring this existence-altering moment.

“I thought…—” YN’s voice was quiet, breathless, filled with fear and agony. She didn’t need to complete the sentence because he figured what she was trying to say. So all he did first was move his head to press a lingering kiss to her forehead. “I am here,” he whispered against her skin, feeling her body relax under his hands. He would never leave her again or let her leave, even if he had to fight every single creature the world had to offer. “I… I am…” YN’s mumbling almost got lost between the shake of her voice and Morpheus wrapped his arms around her, pressed a hand to the small of her back while the other buried itself in her long curls, pulling her closer to his chest, enveloping his wife in the most protective hug. “Do not apologize. There is nothing to apologize for, love. I am just glad I have gotten you back, gotten another chance to spend eternity with you. I am beyond grateful to finally have you in my arms again where you belong, my dream.” His whispering was as tender as the leaves around them, and YN felt her heart flutter like an excited bird shortly before it rose into the sky at the sound of the endearment reserved explicitly for her.

YN let her eyes fall shut, savoring the long-missed and lost feeling of his incredibly soft lips, remembering the Afterlife filled with the same sensation but different all at once. It had been insipid; a weak, dull equivalent to his counterpart in reality, and she had missed him there even more fiercely as if it would have been the case if the Afterlife hadn’t been so cruel to her soul.

Her fingers tenderly caressed through his night black strands, hearing and feeling him sigh in utter contentment. “Morpheus,” she whispered his name again, this time with her lips almost at his—already touching them with every syllable of his name. “I told you I would find you.” The corner of her mouth slowly raised at his deep but quiet chuckle, feeling his arm wrapping tighter around her, pulling her even closer to him, if that was even possible. Their eyes met again after a short but equally as lovingly, and heartwarming kiss as the ones before, and the Lord of Dreams pushed a curl behind her ear, caressing her cheek with his knuckles. YN looked up to him almost pleadingly, even though they both knew that Morpheus could never refuse anything his wife asked of him.

“Bring me home.”

;

Morpheus had his eyes closed, breathing slowly, while every sensation was heightened, beginning with the familiar heavy feeling of her head lying on his shoulder and ending with the tickling touch of YN’s fingertips following slowly and reverently the lines in his right palm. They lay like this since they returned to the Dreaming, immediately strolling through the palace and into their rooms, ignoring everyone around them, only having eyes and a place in their minds for each other.

They had to wait if they wanted to see their queen again. It was his turn now.

“What happened?”

Her voice was as soft as it usually was but held an edge of curiosity and resentment. Her fingers didn’t stop even as YN turned her head to look up into his face, and the man opened his eyes to watch her, though he felt the memory rising behind his eyes and in the front of his mind, unable to unsee it. And she had a right to know.

His hand, which had rested on her bare shoulder where he had caressed her skin with tender strokes, moved up to her head and started to brush through her hair. It had always soothed him and his mind, and he felt relief flowing through him at the realization that it was still the case. “It took a century before I was able to escape, but… I could not leave without seeking vengeance for what he did. Not to me, but you.” YN was quiet, but her eyes told him she listened intently to his every word. So he continued. “My ruby brought him immortality for the time in his possession, and it was the first thing I took back from him. I watched him starting to wither in his sleep, knowing that his dream had changed with the sensation of something happening to him. I waited until he awoke, waited until he realized it was my doing, and watched with satisfaction the moment he realized his end was coming. I promised him eternal torture and started with it myself.”

Morpheus knew that he had been cruel to this human, but he also knew that he wasn’t as cruel as he should’ve been.

YN stopped caressing his palm, and the Endless watched her face, not moving his gaze, not even as he felt her hand move upwards to cup his jawline. He slowly let his eyes fall shut only at the feeling of her thumb brushing over the skin of his cheek, leaning his face into the touch he had longed for over a century. “I really thought I could save you, my love,” she whispered and leaned her forehead against the other side of his face, nuzzling her nose against the skin of his neck. Morpheus pressed a loving kiss to her hairline. “I know, my dream.” He fell silent for a moment before speaking up again—pain audible in his voice. “Do not dare and try it again. Will you promise me that? I cannot watch you die right in front of me again. I would not survive it.”

His queen softly pushed herself up with a hand resting on his chest, right above his strong beating heart. Her eyes—morphing from an emerald green to the shades of the morning sky after the night retreated—watched him with the softest expression while she nodded, barely visible. “Will you promise me not to find yourself in situations and positions which require my unintentional sacrifice again?” A smile started to tuck at the corner of his lips, and YN gently chuckled at the sight of it. “I will promise you that, my Queen,” Morpheus smiled nonetheless up at her, covering the hand still resting over his heart with his own.

He looked down at the missing feeling of something pressing against his palm. YN seemed to notice his changing expression and looked at her bare ring finger as well. “I woke up without it,” she whispered, sadness etched into her tone at the memory of the missing ring her husband had given her. It had been the most beautiful ring ever made, decorated with two beautiful gemstones—a dark blue sapphire, reminding her of his eyes, and the other the darkest emerald ever seen because it had been the color of her eyes at their first encounter. YN didn’t know where it vanished.

He got a hold of her bare hand and pressed her fingertips onto his lips to pepper gentle kisses on them. “I will make you a new one,” he vowed with the soft tone reserved entirely for her ears.

But he didn’t need to because only a moment after the words had left his mouth, a knock interrupted their peace and tranquillity. YN was quick on her feet and crossed the grand room to open the door, facing a wide-eyed Lucienne. “My Queen,” she bowed her head, but both women searched for their hands, and YN gently squeezed her friend’s fingers. “Lucienne,” she smiled, and the librarian couldn’t contain her smile as well. “I apologize for the intrusion, but Death found something I suspect you missed.” And with that, she opened her other hand in which laid, atop a velvet piece of fabric, her missing ring. “Where…?” Her friend only shrugged gently. “She didn’t tell us.” Nodding, YN took the ring and pressed it against her chest. “Thank you, Lucienne.” Her voice was laced with joy and longing, and the librarian bowed again. “I will leave you, but don’t hesitate to visit the library. The books miss you dearly.” With that, Lucienne turned and left, and the woman closed the door again and walked back to the bed with Morpheus still atop the covers.

She opened her hand after settling back on the mattress next to him, letting him see the ring resting on her palm, and the Lord of Dreams smiled down at it. He took the delicate jewelry between his fingers and slowly pushed it back into its place, back home on her finger, so everyone could see to whom she belonged—though nobody in the Dreaming needed a reminder of that.

“Welcome home,” Morpheus mumbled, lips against lips, and enveloped his wife once again in his loving embrace to hold her as close as possible, not thinking about letting her leave his arms anytime soon.

;

Okay, so, I hate the end, but I’m really bad at writing endings naturally, so we have to deal with this one. Hope y’all enjoyed it tho :3 As usual: Comments, reblogs, and likes are much appreciated! <3

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darkhangels · 1 year

Text

enjoy the silence

masterlist

morpheus x f! reader

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VII

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#morpheus #morpheus x reader #morpheus x you #morpheus imagine #morpheus fluff #morpheus smut #dream of the endless #dream of the endless x reader #dream of the endless x you #the sandman #the sandman fanfic #the sandman x reader #sandman netflix #sandman x you

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thepaintedlady00 · 1 year

Note

Still doing amazing writing love! I adore the idea Morpheus protecting the reader as a massive fluffy cat, like not just main coon sized but like a HORSE SIZED main coon looking cat and the reader just using him as a giant comfy couch afterwards cause who in their right mind wouldn’t take that opportunity with a cat that big.

YESSS!!! I love Lord Meowpheus and GIANT LORD MEOWPHEUS is just absolutely amazing!

You'd seen many things in your years dating Dream of the Endless. You'd been transported by magic sand, spoken to his talking raven Matthew, seen gargoyles and unicorns and all manner of mythical creatures, you'd seen nightmares of every size and shape and you were quite confident that nothing could surprise you at this point. But as you stared down the alley at the giant - GIANT - Maine Coon that now stood between you and the group of men that had spooked you, that was beginning to seem less likely.

The large cat hissed at the group before taking a step forward, effectively sending the lot of them scurrying off shouting and screaming in terror. It turned back to you, midnight fur shining in the moonlight and its two eyes glowed as it focused on you. With another step, the creature shrank until its form shifted into that of your beloved immortal.

His coat billowed in the chilled breeze as he made his way to your side to cup your cheeks and look over you with a worried gaze. "Are you harmed?"

"That was a big cat," you mumbled, still somewhat shocked.

Dream sighed, pressing a kiss to your head. "No more late-night walks for you, my dear."

You pulled back and looked at him with furrowed brows. "YOU were a big cat."

"I have many forms," he answered. "You know this."

"Yeah well, giant cat was definitely NOT on the list you gave me!" You insisted. "Think of all the missed opprotunities!"

"Such as?"

"Cat couch," you stated with a smile. "I'd get to lounge on your giant cat body and be consumed by that silky hair!"

He chuckled. "I'm quite certain we can arrange this..."

"Cat couch," you whispered.

"Cat couch, yes."

That night Fiddlers Green was filled with soft purrs and gentle snores as Dream of the Endless slept in his large cat form and you slept on top of him, cocooned in the black fur you'd never slept better.

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writethrough · 3 months

Note

Hello! I just finished reading your Morpheus fics and I absolutely love them! So I thought about requesting something, too. Morpheus x reader where reader is feeling well and calls for him. They spend all evening togheter after a long time. reading togheter, watching some movies, talking and sharing their thoughts... until Morpheus notice it’s really late, almost midnight, and it’s time for reader to sleep, but she doesn't want to ‘cause Morpheus is always busy and she misses spending time with him, even whe she's asleep lately he was never there. Morpheus feels guilty and promises her he’ll be more present, especially in her dreams. A nice ending where he stays with her until she falls asleep, and him appearing in her dreams as he promised? Thank you 💖

A Homemade Remedy

(Morpheus x Female Reader)

Synopsis: After days of dealing with your sickness by yourself, you give in and call your boyfriend, hoping he'll come.

Warnings: Minor language

Word Count: 815

A/N: Stop two on the apology tour. I'm so sorry this has taken so long! And I want to thank you profusely for your patience. And for sending the request in. I really hope you enjoy this fluffy little fic!

Normally, you wouldn’t bother Morpheus with this. He had more important things to deal with instead. But you felt as if Death would appear at any moment, and all you wanted was some comfort from your boyfriend.

You pressed the ruby pendant he gifted you to your heart, croaking his name.

“Beloved?”

You blinked, seemingly slower than usual.

“Hi,” you whispered, covers pulled to your chin.

He took you in for a few moments, brows pinched slightly. You could only tell he was worried because of how long you’d known him.

“You are unwell.”

“S’just a—” A coughing fit started, only ceasing when he handed you your glass of water. “Just a cold.”

Between the tissues piled in the trash beside your bed, the bottle of medication without its lid, and the two additional blankets on top of you, he knew that wasn’t the case. You’d been here much longer than a few hours.

“Why did you not call for me when your ailment began?”

And there it was, the look you were dreading the more you prolonged summoning him. You’re not even sure he’s aware of his “kicked puppy” look.

You shrugged, pulling the covers just below your nose.

Morpheus made no sound—as graceful and Endless as ever. The only indication he had moved was the lifting of your blankets as he slid in behind you.

“Turn around, my love.”

You were far too weak and needy to refuse.

Settling with your head on his thigh, he rested a hand on your hair.

“I am here now, and I will take care of you,” he said. “Whatever you may need, I will gather.”

“Just this.” Your voice barely carried on a whisper.

“Then here I shall remain.”

Morpheus always spoke softer than you would expect while still containing all the authority in the universe, but it sounded even softer. It held gentleness—kindness—a quality that said, “You are precious to me.”

“What about the Dreaming?” you asked, eyes closed.

“In Lucienne’s capable hands,” he replied without hesitation. You were so considerate of him and his duties, for once, he wished you’d be selfish.

“What if she needs you?” Even as you said this, your arm settled over his lap.

“She has looked after my realm much longer than you will be ill.”

You squeezed him as best you could at the reminder. You didn’t like to think about what had happened to him. Though you met long after that, it hurt to know someone could do that to another being—human or not.

Morpheus had reassured you he had healed. Much of that having to do with you.

“Could you read to me, then?” you asked.

A book appeared in seconds, his voice matching perfectly to the cadence of the lines. It didn’t matter what he was saying, hearing him speak in that hypnotic rumble was enough. Even the flipping of the page didn’t distract you. He was captivating from the first word.

He’d read two chapters when your stomach growled.

“When did you last eat?” His smile was soft, thumb grazing your arm.

You shrugged, not wanting to be scolded.

“Can you eat?”

You weren’t sure if it was how shitty you were feeling, how tired you were, or how helpless you felt, but his words went straight to your heart.

He considered how you might feel. He wasn’t pushing you to eat, but asking if you thought you could stomach anything. He wanted to help, but not at the risk of causing you more discomfort.

You nodded, keeping your eyes closed so he wouldn’t see them watering.

“Here.” He helped you sit up before picking up the bowl of broth that had manifested on the nightstand.

You went to grab it, but he tutted, picking the spoon up himself and bringing it to your mouth.

“I can feed myself,” you said after swallowing.

“I know,” he said. “Please. Let me help you.”

You ate the next spoonful without complaint, and soon, the bowl was empty.

“Thank you,” you mummered, head nestled into the crook of his shoulder.

“It’s late, you must rest,” he whispered into your hair.

You shook your head, and tried to snuggle yourself closer to him, like if you planted yourself firmly enough, he wouldn’t be able to leave.

“Haven’t seen you in forever,” you mumbled. “Don’t wanna waste it.”

Guilt flooded Morpheus. He knew he had been neglectful of you, but you had been so patient with him. You were the embodiment of understanding—and he had taken advantage of that.

“Go to sleep, dear one. I will meet you in the Dreaming.” His lips pressed to your crown.

You hummed, head growing heavy.

And when your eyes opened, there he was, holding you as you laid in his chambers.

He smiled fondly, brushing your chin with his knuckles.

“What shall we do now, my love?”

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

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daddyjackfrost · 2 years

Text

Chapter 4: Perhaps, Friendship?

╰┈➤ ❝ [Stay With Me ; Morpheus] ❞

morpheus x fem!reader

warnings: third person pov, 10.5k+ words, angst, mean dream, hurt/comfort, yeah

a/n: i’m so terribly sorry this took so long to write…. anyways 😛 i hope u like it!

read chapter 5 here

stay with me ; masterlist

The scent of ink and wood carried through the library, the yellow lights were dim, and Lucienne was at peace. Her study was organized, her quill was perfect, and she was ready to get a heap amount of work done.

Her quill had just touched the paper when she heard the sound of vaguely familiar laughter nearing.

Sighing, the librarian put down her quill and looked at her large, wooden doors expectedly.

Loud voices pushed her doors wide open, three culprits standing before her, all indulged in their own conversation. A reluctant smile pulled at Lucienne’s lips at the sight of Mervyn laughing, his wooden shoulders shook and his head was tipped back.

“Ahem,” Lucienne cleared her throat.

Mervyn, Matthew, and Y/n looked up at Lucienne, a guilty smile on Y/n’s face. Lucienne took a moment to inspect the woman. She looked healthy, but there was a sullen sadness behind her eyes. One she often saw in her Lord.

“Some of us,” Lucienne threw a pointed look at Mervyn, “have work to do.”

“Sorry, Lucienne,” Matthew said, perched on Y/n’s shoulder. “We wanted to ask you if you wanted to come with us?”

Y/n nodded, her eyes lighting up. “You must, Lucienne. It’ll be so fun.”

“Where to?” The librarian asked, slightly intrigued.

Y/n and Mervyn shared a look before turning back to her.

“Fae said she would use her dust on Mervyn and I.” Y/n’s smile was wide.

Lucienne blinked. “Pardon?”

“We’re gonna fly, Luci. The kid and I. Then we’ll fight Matthew and Fae in the air.” Mervyn rested against a bookshelf, nonchalant.

Lucienne stared at Mervyn for a moment, deciding to ignore the nickname for the time being. She turned to Matthew and Y/n, both staring at her with wide eyes. “What?”

“Told you she’d freak,” Mervyn whispered to Y/n. The woman slapped his arm in return.

Lucienne inhaled a long breath, closing her eyes and counting to three. When she opened her eyes, she straightened in her seat and picked up her quill.

“You three are going to get yourselves in trouble, and I will not be part of it.” She paused. “Tell me how it goes.”

Matthew chirped. “We won’t. Not when the Boss has a soft spot for Miss demi-god here.”

Y/n turned to Matthew, her mouth agape and eyes wide. She brushed him off her shoulder, rolling her eyes at Matthew and Mervyn’s laughter. “He does not.”

Lucienne said nothing in response, just smiled briefly before motioning towards the door. “Get out now, please.”

Bickering, the three left Lucienne’s study. She shook her head in amusement before returning to her work. She was sure she would hear about their time with Fae at some point, and the disaster of it all.

Leaving Lucienne in her study, the trio made their way out of the palace. Fae had agreed to meet them outside the palace, past the bridge.

“Do you think this is a good idea?” Y/n asked Mervyn.

The pumpkinhead shrugged. “Probably not, but it’ll be fun.”

Matthew nodded his head, landing back on Y/n’s shoulder. “I can’t wait to see you guys fly.”

Y/n spotted Fae and raised her hand in greeting, waving to the fairy. As they walked across the bridge, they passed many dreamers. Y/n smiled at them, unaware of their stares of awe.

“Greetings, friends.”

Fae’s soft voice reached their ears and Y/n smiled as Matthew cawed in greeting. Mervyn nodded his head at the fairy, trying to keep his eyes off her.

Y/n walked towards Fae and the fairy opened her arms. Mindful of her wings, Y/n hugged Fae.

Pulling back, Fae clapped her dark, brown hands. Her golden eyes shone. “Are you ready?”

Y/n and Mervyn nodded, excited. Matthew flew off Y/n’s shoulder and landed on the grass next to Fae.

Reaching into her pouch, Fae grabbed a handful of bright pink sand. It shimmered in The Dreaming sun. Y/n’s heart fluttered. She could feel the magic.

“Lord Morpheus granted me this sand to aid in dream-making. He would be disappointed that it is being used this way…”

Merv tsked, putting his cigar away. “Come now, Fae. You promised.”

Fae smiled, shaking her head. “I did. Step forward.”

Y/n and Merv stepped towards Fae and she sprinkled sand over them. She mumbled incoherent words, and when she blew the last remnants of the sand, Mervyn and Y/n began to float.

Y/n screamed in surprise when her feet lifted off the ground. Her arms spread wide as her body tried to stabilize itself in the air. Her laughter was loud.

Merv let out a small laugh when he kicked his legs and pushed his arms, moving. He looked stiff in the air, unnatural, but he felt so free.

Matthew chirped, happily. He pushed off the ground and flew around Y/n and Merv. He tried to teach Mervyn how to move properly, and in the process, the pumpkinhead kicked Y/n’s arm.

“Ow, Merv.”

“Sorry, kid.” Merv was upside down, his smile wide.

Fae laughed before flapping her wings and kicking off the ground. She flew up to Mervyn, giggling when Y/n pushed him.

The four of them stayed in the air, laughing and pushing. Dreamers watched them with glazed eyes, enjoying the unusualness of their dream. One they hoped to remember.

“You look like a starfish,” Matthew told Merv. The pumpkinhead had his arms and legs spread out, following Fae’s advice. At the comment, Merv grumbled and Fae consoled him.

“Is this how you feel when you fly?” Y/n asked Matthew.

The raven chirped, nodding. “Yup. It’s nice, right?”

Y/n nodded, soaking in the sun and the feeling of complete freedom. At this moment, she was not tethered to anything. Not the ground, humanity, or sadness. She was free of immortal bindings.

“What,” a low, dark voice interrupted them, “is going on here?”

The dreams and Y/n looked down instantly, finding Morpheus standing before them with his hands behind his back and his lips pulled into a frown.

His eyes were bright, curious. When they landed on Y/n, they sharpened.

“We, uh,” Y/n licked her lips, fixing her dress, “we’re flying?”

“Yes,” Morpheus said. “I see that. Why?”

Y/n looked at Fae, then at Merv, before looking back at Morpheus. “For fun?”

Morpheus blinked slowly, swallowing his initial amusement. “You are disrupting the dreamers.”

His tone, soft and plain, free of accusation, just fact, sobered the dreams. Fae grabbed onto Merv’s leg and Y/n’s arm, pulling them back to the ground. Once their feet landed, the sand fell off their bodies and they were once again binded to the ground.

“Forgive me, your Majesty.” Fae bowed, an unwelcome frown on her lips. “I understand if you wish to take back your gift.”

Morpheus’s eyes were on Fae, his lips thinned. Unconsciously, his eyes drifted to Y/n’s frown, her pursed lips and conflicted eyes, and Morpheus shook his head once.

“I will not. However, do not misuse, Fae. A gift is a gift, its purpose is in the hands of the receiver.”

The fairy nodded, smiled briefly at Y/n, and flew away.

Matthew and Mervyn were quiet, standing beside Y/n. They hid behind her shadow, knowing that the human–half human–would protect them from Moprheus’s silent rage.

“Come, Y/n.” Morpheus’s voice tickled Y/n’s neck. It pulled at her heart, the intimacy of her name on his tongue.

“Or stay.” His second comment felt colder, a push Y/n had grown familiar to.

Morpheus’s eyes turned to Mervyn and the pumpkinhead straightened. “Abel calls for you, Mervyn. Cain has broken his well.”

Saluting Morpheus, Merv bumped his shoulder against Y/n’s. “See ya later, kid.”

Matthew landed on Y/n’s shoulder, his designated place on their adventures. Morpheus turned and began to walk away, towards the Barren.

Falling into step with him, Y/n smiled as she passed dreamers and dreams alike. She had begun dreaming more, yearning to spend more time in The Dreaming then the Waking World.

Although she loved her waking life, her dream life had become one of joy and pleasure.

“You have a significant way with my creations, Y/n.”

She turned her head, drinking in his side profile. “Do I?”

“Yes.” The Endless nodded. “They cannot stay away from you.”

Can you? Y/n wondered. Do you?

She bumped her chin against Matthew’s head. “Is this about the Corinthian?”

Morpheus said nothing, and she knew it was. A few days ago, she woke at the edge of the gates of Ivory. The Corinthian found her, and kept her company. They walked around The Dreaming, and she learned more about the nightmare.

Word spread that the immortal and the nightmare were spending time together, and Y/n realized that disgust was a universal emotion, not just a human one.

“Jealousy is not a pretty emotion, Lord Morpheus.”

Dream’s jaw tightened. He was an Endless, the Lord of The Dreaming, and yet, a halfblood had the nerve to insult him. His nostrils flared at the formal title. It felt teasing, taunting.

“I am not one to succumb to petty human emotions, Daughter of Bast. Do not forget it.”

There was not a single fleeting sight of fear in her eyes, just amusement. Her grin widened and she turned her head, hiding her snicker of laughter.

Matthew was silent, observing the interactions between his Master and his friend. There had been an ongoing conversation between Lucienne, Mervyn, and himself about the two. Questions, theories, and bets had been discussed in private.

All in due time, the raven mused.

Once they reached the Barren, Y/n’s smile dimmed. Her eyes drifted across the plain, dark land. It reminded her of her village, once upon a time. Burned to the ground by those who held the flame.

“The Barren is… barren.”

“Yes,” Morpheus answered, walking towards the middle. “I believe the name is quite fitting.”

Y/n stepped off the soft grass and onto hardened purple sand. It was cold below her exposed feet, and a shiver ran up her spine. As she began to follow, warm brown boots appeared on her feet and she stumbled. Matthew pulled the shoulder of her dress, stabilizing her.

She looked down at the boots and wiggled her foot, one by one. Then, she lifted her head and stared at the back of Morpheus’s head, her heart tightened and she blinked slowly.

Morpheus felt her stare, it burned him.

They walked towards the middle, where three blobs of gray, sandy matter awaited them.

Morpheus stood before them, his arms hanging. His head tilted and his blue eyes twinkled. His mind quietened as he inhaled a long, deep breath.

Humans had become cruel, creative. Their dreams had become nightmares for others.

“What are you making?” Y/n asked quietly, her voice a caress on Morpheus’s touch-deprived face.

“I am unsure,” he responded, quieter than her. Y/n leaned in closer, her arm brushing his.

“A dream,” she whispered. “There are enough nightmares in the Waking World.”

Morpheus’s lips parted slightly. He wanted to ask what she meant, why she refused to tell him more, but he said nothing. Instead, he said, “very well.”

Matthew’s beak fell open, his eyes wide. He never thought he would see the day when Morpheus would so easily accept the recommendation of another.

Lucienne will love this, he thought, and hate it.

Morpheus stepped back, forcing Y/n to as well. The Endless raised his pale, delicate hands, and began to move them in calculated, smooth movements.

Y/n’s eyes stayed on his hands, the way a flick of his finger sculpted a cheek, feigned pressure created the space for an eye. She had seen sculptors sculpt before, but none had ever moved with grace the way Morpheus did.

He poured his love, his empathy, into the dream. The tenderness in which he performed had never been witnessed before, and it tingled the depth of Y/n’s heart. It felt private, something that was hers until the end of time.

In a way incomprehensible to a lesser being, Morpheus finished creating the dream, and when he did, he dropped his hands and released a small breath.

Y/n’s eyes widened in amazement, her jaw close to the floor. In a blink of an eye, Morpheus had created something so beautiful, majestic.

Before them stood a large, eagle-like bird with red and golden feathers. The bird had dark red eyes and an indigo beak. It was surely a creature worthy of only The Dreaming.

“A phoenix?”

“That’s a big bird,” Matthew whispered, puffing his chest.

Morpheus’s eyes were round, filled with love. The dream before him was perfect, and it had been the first he had created in a long time.

“The phoenix, a mythical creature of human thought, is a symbol of hope, renewal, resurrection,” his eyes drifted to Y/n’s momentarily, “and immortality.”

He reached out to the bird, gently petting the bowed phoenix’s head. “Humanity is in need of hope and healing, perhaps this dream will guide them to a better renewal.”

Y/n listened to Morpheus closely. The way his words fell off his tongue, precise and knowledgeable. He spoke as if he knew humanity well, and he did.

“Yes, humanity could use some hope and healing.” Y/n hesitantly reached out to the bird, awaiting Moprheus’s approval. When he nodded, once, she laid her hand gently on the phoenix’s head.

Morpheus wondered when Y/n had begun to separate herself from humanity.

“There is an Egyptian mythological creature that resembles a phoenix.” She paused. “The Bennu.”

Morpheus scratched the underside of the bird’s chin. “I see.”

Y/n petted the bird’s neck, gently. “I thought learning about my mother dearest and her history would be beneficial.”

Matthew crackled, quickly clearing his throat at Moprheus’s unimpressed look.

“It is not wise to taunt the Gods, Y/n.”

Y/n ignored Moprheus’s sharp look, a warning he wished he could have told many before her.

“I will burn that bridge when I get to it, Morpheus.” Y/n smiled when the bird leaned into her touch. “What are you naming him?”

Morpheus turned his head back to the phoenix, his head slightly tilted to the left. “Its name is Phoenix.”

“Oh,” Y/n tried to hide her disappointment. “What about Blaze?”

Morpheus stilled, turning to face Y/n’s amused smile. His lips were pulled into a frown and he shook his head. “No.”

Y/n shrugged. “I’ll call him Fi-Fi, then.” Her grin widened when Matthew laughed. “Isn’t that right, Fi-Fi?” She patted the bird's cheek.

Morpheus chose not to respond, knowing if he indulged her, she would win.

Everything is a game, he reminded himself.

Everything.

He nodded once at the new dream, and the bird cawed loudly once before flying away. Y/n watched the phoenix fly away with big, curious eyes.

The red stood out in the dull purple sky and she counted the seconds it took for the red to disappear.

Morpheus, in turn, watched her.

“Have you read every book in this library, Lucienne?”

“Yes, I have. These books are my responsibility, in my care. How can I call myself the chief librarian if I do not know the books in my library?”

The women stood in an aisle, sorting books. It was comforting to them, surrounded by ink and paper. Y/n felt at home, her library in the Waking World mirrored Lucienne’s, except here, there was a friend.

“Have you?” Lucienne asked her, curious.

She kept her knowledge on the Waking World up to par, but felt conflicted asking Y/n about her life. From the strain of her eyes, and the way her smile had dimmed in the slightest, she knew that Y/n suffered the fate of every immortal.

Human life was meant to be lived temporarily, short.

Y/n nodded, smiling as she slid a book into place.

“Yes. My library is not as grand as yours, but it is big. I try to read at least ten books per day, if not more.”

Lucienne did not see the soft, reminiscent smile on Y/n’s face. They faced opposite shelves, their backs to each other.

“Does it not get tiresome?”

“Not in the slightest,” Y/n said. “Everyday, there is something new to do. To read. To see. And sometimes, life does get boring but I am so privileged to think so.”

Lucienne smiled, amazed at Y/n’s love for her life. The librarian knew that she had seen many horrible things, gone through unimaginable loss, and yet, she could not find it in herself to hate any part of her life.

It was honorable, and a bit fearsome.

“You carry a lot of love, Y/n.”

Y/n’s smile turned remorseful, Lucienne’s words sounded familiar. “I do.”

Lucienne turned, and the movement made Y/n turn as well. They stared at each other, a secret forming between them. A bond tightening and looping around them.

“Have you ever wished for your time to end?”

Y/n leaned against the shelf, thinking. She had lived many lives, for many years, and the memories had begun to blur together.

“Yes,” she answered quietly. “Once. Long ago.”

Lucienne stared, staying quiet. She would not ask, but her silence invited conversation.

“I had no family growing up. No brothers or sisters. But I had friends. People I loved like my own. When they all passed, the thought of going with them crossed my mind.”

Lucienne’s eyes softened. She had been in The Dreaming for a long time, and no longer remembered human attachment, but the anguish in Y/n’s voice was enough.

“What changed your mind?”

Y/n smiled, twisting a single band on her finger. “My friend, Karisa, on her deathbed, made me promise that I would live for the both of us. She reminded me of the love I had for living, and told me I was too strong to die.”

“She sounds wonderful.”

“She was simply splendid. Crazy, loud, improper, but splendid.”

Lucienne’s smile tightened, and Y/n noticed. Turning, the librarian finished organizing her shelf. Y/n watched Lucienne, the stiffness of her shoulders, the way she tried to shrug off her sadness.

“If there is one thing humans did right, it is the concept of friendship.”

“Right? Having even a single friend can change your life.”

Lucienne said nothing in response.

“Lucienne.” Y/n said her name in a way she had yet to hear, free of authority and want, just love.

The librarian turned, eyebrows raised. Y/n smiled at her, a knowing look on her face.

“Thank you for being my friend.”

Lucienne’s lips parted and she blinked. A genuine smile pulled at her lips and she pushed her glasses up.

“Thank you, Y/n.”

Morpheus found both women staring at each other, smiles on their faces. He stepped out from within the shadows, standing tall.

“Lucienne. Y/n.”

Lucienne turned her head to Morpheus, tipping her head in a bow. “My Lord.”

Y/n raised her hand and smiled at him. His hair was unruly, sticking up in a way that was heartwarming and irritating. His porcelain skin glowed under the warm library lights, and his coat was longer, different.

He was ethereal.

“Have you completed the drafts on the new dreams and nightmares, Lucienne?”

The librarian nodded, handing her book to Y/n. “Yes, my Lord. It is on my desk. I’ll just be a moment.”

Lucienne walked away, leaving Y/n and Morpheus alone between the aisles. A scene familiar to both.

Morpheus watched Y/n as she slid the book into place. Lucienne had her own system, unbeknownst to anyone. It was hers to understand, hers to know, and yet, Y/n had learned.

“You do not have to help Lucienne.” He knew that his librarian was very capable and used to working alone.

Y/n turned, leaning against the shelf. She crossed her arms, staring at the ancient being before her. “I know. I want to.”

Morpheus did not ask, but the question was clear in his icy blue eyes: why?

“I love spending time with Lucienne. I love this library. It’s a pleasure to be here.”

“Lucienne enjoys your company.”

“Do you?”

Y/n froze, her eyes lifting to meet Morpheus’s blue ones. They were sharp, free of any emotion. Her question did not seem to have affected him, but she saw his stiff shoulders, the way he reeled away at confrontation.

Hurried footsteps broke their stare. Moprheus turned, staring at an approaching Lucienne. “Here it is, My Lord.”

Morpheus grabbed the papers, nodding appreciatively at Lucienne.

The librarian looked between her Lord and Y/n, her eyes slightly narrowing.

“Y/n,” Morpheus said her name quietly. A whisper. A prayer. His eyes drifted to hers, and he almost answered her question.

I do, he wanted to say. I have no reason to, and yet, I do.

Instead, he said, “Accompany me to the dreamwalk?”

“Dreamwalk?”

“The waters of The Dreaming.”

Y/n’s eyes lit, her smile widening into a grin. She loved exploring The Dreaming. Learning more about the Dream realm quenched a thirst she had long forgotten about.

“Oh, yes. Please.”

“Come.”

Morpheus turned, giving the women a moment of privacy. Y/n smiled at Lucienne and squeezed her hand. “I will see you soon, Lucienne.”

The smile Lucienne returned was small, secretive.

“Have fun, my friend.”

Y/n turned and looked up at the back of Morpheus’s head. His head turned slightly, the corners of his eyes meeting hers.

“Do not get lost, Y/n.”

“Lost? What do you mea—”

Dark smoke clouded them, and they were pulled, twisting and turning. Y/n closed her eyes and reached for Dream, grabbing onto his arm. When they landed, she opened her eyes to dark, dangerous waters.

They stood on a dock, sky purple and water blue, swimming with dreams and nightmares.

Y/n let go of Moprheus’s arm, stepping back. She smoothed out her dress, ignoring his heated glare. Hesitantly, she took small steps towards the edge of the dock, passing Morpheus’s still body.

A strong, yet gentle hand grabbed her shoulder, halting her. Y/n stilled at the contact.

“Do not go further, lest you fall and get lost within the waters.”

Morpheus’s voice tickled her neck, his hold on her shoulder tightening for the slightest of moments before he let go and stepped away.

“These waters are consuming, filled with dreams and nightmares almost as old as Time itself. No one besides myself can navigate these waters.”

Y/n’s eyes wandered the dock, fixing on certain dreams that swam close to the surface. The Dreaming was magnificent, it was beyond beautiful, but here, this dock, it was the realm of nightmares.

The coldness of the air, the depth of the water, the uncertainty of what is hidden was enough to remind Y/n that while Morpheus was the King of Dreams, he was also the Ruler of Nightmares.

This was the other, hidden side to the coin.

With the raise of his hand, the waters lifted, danced. His hand swayed, and the water swayed as well. The dreams and nightmares performed, basking in Y/n’s full attention. Morpheus’s lips twitched at the sight of Y/n’s amazement.

“Do you do this for all your friends, Dream?” Y/n turned her head, a teasing smile on her face.

Morpheus stilled, his expression turned to stone and his eyes narrowed. His hand dropped, as did the water. His presence shifted, grew colder and distant. He stood taller while shadows around him darkened.

Y/n’s words had broken the unfortunate spell he had been under, and his eyes darkened, turning the same colour as the deep blue waters.

“What did you say?”

Y/n turned around at the low, menacing tone Moprheus used. Her eyes widened as her lips parted. In all the years they had known each other, Morpheus had never shown this side to him.

“I–”

“Is that what you think we are?” Morpheus took a small step towards Y/n, his eyes rimmed with red. “Friends?” He spat the word, as if the very notion pained him.

Y/n swallowed, standing tall. “Are we not? Do we not speak and interact as friends?”

“I am an Endless, Y/n. Do you truly believe that a being such as myself has any value for a pathetic halfblood such as yourself?”

Morpheus’s words were harsh, unredeemable, and yet he could not stop himself.

“Halfblood?”

Morpheus stepped closer. “Half human and half God. It is what we call those that were abandoned, unloved.”

Y/n’s eyes watered, but she stood tall. Her lips shook, but she did not remove her gaze from Moprheus. He was enraged, furious. She could not recognize him, his fury matched those of brutal Kings and harsh Rulers.

“You forget yourself, human. You have inserted yourself in The Dreaming. Do you truly believe I would waste precious time on you?” His voice dropped an octave, reaching the depths of Y/n’s heart.

“A being such as yourself has no value to me. You are a single atom in my vast universe.”

“Morpheus,” Y/n’s voice wavered. “You’re being mean, and I won’t let you take back your words.”

Morpheus tilted his head down, eye levels matching. The blue had darkened, replaced with black. These were the eyes of an Endless. The eyes and anger of the Ruler of Nightmares.

“You have bewitched me, halfblood.” Morpheus’s nose almost touched Y/n’s. “You are not welcomed in The Dreaming as a guest any longer. If you shall dream, you shall do so as every human does.”

Morpheus ignored the tears that gathered in her eyes, his heart racing and blood boiling. “I will pity you no longer. There will be no more exploring.”

“You, Y/n,” Morpheus’s voice lowered, touching the very bottom of Y/n’s shattered heart, “are no friend to The Dreaming.” The shadows on his face darkened, and he looked like Y/n’s worst nightmare. “Nor I.”

Morpheus stepped back, and tears spilled from Y/n’s eyes. It had been the first time she had cried in years, and her heart began chipping away, the one she spent so long trying to rebuild.

“You may not pity me any more, Morpheus, but I pity you. Imagine,” she stepped towards him, her eyes glistened with tears, “being as old as Time, and lonelier than Death.”

Y/n’s arms dropped, as did her facial muscles, and Moprheus finally saw the price of immortality on her face. The way her eyes had slightly sullen, the way her lips naturally turned downwards, and the look of utter heartbreak on her face.

“I never wish to see or speak to you again. Awake or dreaming.” Y/n’s voice falters, but her eyes are hard, unforgiving.

She pushes past Morpheus, walking away from him. Morpheus listens to her footsteps, his stoic expression cracking with each step she takes.

The King of Dreams stands in the Barren for a long time, realizing that the silence around him will be his company until the end of this world, and the next.

Alone, he mulls. Forever.

Chills run across Moprheus’s skin, and the Endless lifts his head, his eyes closing and lips thinning.

Y/n is in The Dreaming.

The throne room is dark, colder than it usually is. Morpheus leans back on his throne, itching for something he cannot identify.

Straining his ears, he can hear Lucienne and Y/n’s laughter from the library, and it pulls at his heart.

Years had passed since Moprheus and Y/n had last spoken, and he had felt the time like a heavy weight on his shoulders.

Once, he had called upon Mervyn and felt her presence nearby, but she never showed herself.

It was within his power to scope The Dreaming, watch every resident or dreamer, but Moprheus refused to use his omnipotence unwisely. And so, he kept away from Y/n.

Often, Morpheus found himself closing his eyes and opening his ears. He listened to her laugh, her stories, the way she breathed and the calmness of it.

His words from the Barren haunted him, replaying in his mind. He had not realized the weight of his words until fifty years had passed and Lucienne had accidentally told him that Y/n had expressed anger at the thought of him.

Morpheus knew that he had been the one to push Y/n away. His words broke her heart, pulled her away from him, but he did not think about the repercussions of his words.

Immortals often tended not to.

He sighed, dropping his head into his hands.

He knew that Y/n still explored The Dreaming, except it was no longer with him. Her usual companions were Matthew and Mervyn, and sometimes Cain and Abel.

The murderous holy brother had become friends with the woman, and it ached Morpheus every day.

A foreign force pushed at Morpheus’s mind, and he waved his hand. His sister did not visit often, and the thought of her brought ease to his racing mind.

“You look terrible,” a teasing feminine voice said.

Dream lifted his head and his eyes softened at the sight of his sister.

Death stood in the middle of the throne room, her hands on her waist. She wore black leather, and her sigil hung from her neck. Her curly black hair was longer, and her dark brown skin glistened.

“Sister,” Morpheus greeted, standing. He walked down the steps and towards Death until he stood before her. “What brings you to my realm?”

Death’s eyes trailed Morpheus before she raised an eyebrow at her brother. “Are you a child, Dream?”

Morpheus blinked. “No.”

“Then why,” Death sighed, “do you behave as such?”

Morpheus said nothing, but his lips pulled into a frown.

“Your hundred year meeting with Y/n L/n did not happen today.” Death’s voice lowered slightly, heavy with wisdom. “Why?’

Morpheus’s heart tugged at the thought of Y/n. It had been a hundred years since he heard her voice, been pestered by her questions and inane energy. Their distance had resulted in a dull pain behind his eyes.

“Y/n and I will no longer be meeting every hundred years.”

Death snorted, her other eyebrow raising. “And why is that? Has she taught you the meaning of humanity? Are you convinced of a human’s capacity to love?”

Dream’s eyes narrowed. “Y/n is not human.” At the sight of Death’s unchanged expression, his lips parted. “You knew that.”

Death shook her head, her eyes softening.

“Being human does not come in portions, Dream. Although Y/n is the daughter of Bast, she is the most human of beings I have ever known. Do you not know of her pain? Of all she has suffered? And yet, she continues to love. To live.”

Death stepped closer, placing her hand on Moprheus’s chest. “Fate is not straightforward. It is unknowing, unchangeable. Why do you break your own heart?”

“I do not know what you speak of, sister.” Morpheus’s eyes were red, glazed.

“I made Y/n immortal so she could live her life to the fullest, and so you could finally learn a thing or two about humanity. She is tied to you, Morpheus. Through history, through Bast, through it all.”

“I do not understand, sister. Why would Y/n be tied to me?”

Death sighed, a breathy laugh escaping her. “Get off your high horse and apologize to her. I do not know what you said, but I know it was you who ruined the balance of fate.”

She smiled at him, patting his chest once. “Fix it.”

Death stepped back, smiled at her brother, and disappeared.

Morpheus stood still, Death’s words ringing in his ears. He could not make sense of any of them, except her last words.

“Fix it.”

Releasing a long breath, Dream stared at his large throne room doors. He was not one to apologize, or forgive. He was an Endless, superior to every other being. He did not need to fix things. He created them.

When the time was right, she would come to him. And he would let her.

Until then, Morpheus would do his job, complete his responsibilities. He would learn to ignore her laughter ringing through The Dreaming.

Inhaling, Morpheus straightened. As he turned to make his way back to his throne, a solid knock rang through the room.

“Enter,” Morpheus called out.

Lucienne pushed open the large doors, bowing. She walked towards Dream with paced steps and a soft, professional frown on her lips.

“My Lord,” Lucienne greeted. “I have some unfortunate news.”

Morpheus’s heart stilled for the briefest of moments. A question of Y/n’s wellbeing was on the tip of his tongue, but he said nothing.

“The Corinthian… he seems to be looking for a way to the Waking World.” Lucienne paused, her words dying on her tongue. Dream’s eyes narrowed. “I believe he is trying to get some sort of information from Y/n.”

Her name on Lucienne’s tongue was hesitant, light. But it had the same effect on him it always did. His heart pulled and he took a moment before answering. Her name had become taboo around him.

“What sort of information could The Corinthian want from Y/n?”

“I am not sure, my Lord. She briefly mentioned her meeting with the Corinthian. But I have heard speculation from other nightmares as well.”

Morpheus crossed his arms behind his back, tilting his head up. “I shall speak to Y/n.” He wished to do anything but.

Lucienne winced. “My Lord… I do not think that is a wise idea.”

Icy blue eyes stared down at Lucienne. “Why is that?”

The librarian pursed her lips. “Y/n is stubborn. I do not think she wishes to see you.”

Lucienne’s words pierced Dream’s heart. “I will make her talk.”

“My Lord,” Lucienne’s eyebrows furrowed, “surely you would not misuse your authority?”

“I am your King, Lucienne.” Morpheus’s tone was harsh. “Do not question me.”

The librarian nodded, biting the inside of her cheek. “Of course.” She bowed her head and walked away, ignoring the way The Dreaming began to darken by gray clouds.

The Dreaming remained sullen, dark, for quite some time after that.

A warm breeze tickled Y/n as she laid sideways in Fiddler’s Green. A story about man’s pride and a woman’s prejudice that had yet to be written laid forgotten beside her. A picnic basket filled with small desserts sat near her, empty.

As she laid in her bed that night, she wished to be alone. Her thoughts had been heavy and company had been rampage. She wished to find peace and solitude in her dreams, and she did.

The grass below her caressed her skin, comforting her. Trees blocked the sun from her face. Fiddler’s Green was a place of comfort, and it loved Y/n as much as she loved it.

Against her better judgement, Y/n began to think about Morpheus. She missed him. His presence, his way of speaking, and the comfort he provided her. His words from the Barren often haunted her waking hours. The harshness behind them. The truth behind them.

If there was one thing Y/n learned over the years, it was that people—beings—always meant what they said when angry, unprovoked. If drunk words were sober thoughts, then angry words were hidden thoughts.

After the Barren, The Dreaming had become a bit uncomfortable for Y/n. She loved it and the residents, but she knew that it was his realm, and if he wanted to, he could remove her from it.

Closing her eyes, Y/n released a small shaky breath. She wished to see Morpheus, to hear his low, raspy voice. She wished for his apology.

Y/n’s lips pulled into a frown. The Endless was stubborn, much like her. She knew he would not apologize, and she would wait for it forever.

A chill ran through Y/n’s spine and she opened her eyes to find a black cat with yellow eyes staring at her.

Y/n did not move, her breath hitched. She stared at the cat, amazed at the size of it. It was a large cat, with black fur. It was beyond any feline she saw at her Mother’s palace.

Y/n pushed herself up, sitting with her back against a tree. She slowly bent her knees, hugging them as her eyes stayed on the cat.

“Hello,” she said. Y/n was unsure whether being the daughter of Bast gave her the ability to speak to this cat.

When she visited the palace, the other cats seemed to understand her, but this cat had a different presence.

Darker, superior, regal.

“I will not hurt you,” she whispered. “I promise.”

The cat took one step closer to her, its head tilting. Its yellow eyes glowed, narrowing at Y/n.

“I thought I wanted to be alone but I don’t.” She smiled at the tomcat. “I would really like it if you kept me company.”

The cat stared at Y/n before it slowly walked towards her. Her eyes widened as it neared, mistaking just how large this cat really was.

When it stood before her, she slowly blinked. The cat stared at her for a few minutes before slowly blinking.

Y/n grinned, tilting her head to the side. Slowly, she reached out to the cat, her hand limp to the side of its face. She stared at her hand, and then back to the cat. “You let me know if I can touch you.”

Hesitantly, the feline tilted its head towards her hand, sniffing it. It then bumped its head against her hand. Once Y/n realized it was okay, she gently rubbed its chin. It pushed into her soak, yellow eyes closing.

“Enjoying it, are you?” Y/n pet its cheek. “Are you a boy or girl?” Y/n laughed when the cat opened its eyes, staring at her.

“Girl?” The cat slightly pulled away.

“Boy?” He pushed into her hand.

Y/n’s smile widened. “A boy, huh?” Y/n ran the back of her hand along the side of his face. When he purred, Y/n laughed. She patted the grass next to her.

“Lay with me?”

To her surprise, the cat circled the grass once before laying next to her, his head resting against her thigh. Gently, she stroked his forehead to the base of his tail. He closed his eyes, purring.

“You remind me of someone,” she spoke gently to the cat. “Perhaps I dreamt you thinking of him.”

Y/n continuously stroked the cat, her own eyes closing. She rested her head against the tree.

They spent a long time in Fiddler’s Green, enjoying each other's company. Y/n had forgotten how much she loved cats, especially since she vowed to never get another after hers died in the Waking World.

Two loud male voices interrupted the comfortable silence. Y/n opened her eyes and a smile pulled at her lips at the familiar voices.

“Kid!” Mervyn appeared from behind a tree, Matthew close behind him. “There you are. Do you know how hard it is to find you?”

“Y/n!” Matthew greeted, landing on Merv’s shoulder.

At the sight of the large, black cat, their eyes widened and their mouths fell open. The cat stood in front of Y/n, protecting her.

Y/n looked at Mervyn’s disbelieving look and the cat before resting a hand on the cat’s back.

“Quiet down. You’ve scared him.”

“Scared him?” The pumpkinhead looked at Y/n with wide eyes. “Y/n, do you know this cat?”

Y/n shook her head. “No. He just showed up here a little while ago. I think I dreamt him.”

Merv looked at Matthew, and Matthew looked at Merv. The raven and pumpkinhead then looked at Y/n and plastered fake smiles on their faces.

“Yes,” Merv said. “You probably dreamt him.”

Matthew cleared his throat. “You wanna come with us to visit Lucienne? She misses you.”

At the sound of the librarian’s name, Y/n’s eyes brightened. The cat watched her with an unbreaking gaze. Pushing herself up, Y/n smoothed out her dress. She smiled down at the cat and rubbed his head.

“Come on,” she said. “We’re going on a little walk.”

Merv turned and began to walk, Y/n fell into step with him. The trio spoke and laughed and the cat walked behind them, drinking in the sight.

Glancing behind her, Y/n paused and waited until the feline fell into step with her. As the cat began to walk beside them, Mervyn stiffened, and Matthew slightly lowered his voice.

Y/n did not notice.

When they reached the library, Mervyn held the door for Y/n, and slightly bowed his head as the cat followed behind her.

Walking behind them, Matthew whispered in Merv’s ear.

“Is that really the Boss?”

Mervyn nodded, once. “Yeah, man. It is.”

The pair followed Y/n to Lucienne’s study.

Knocking, Y/n pushed open the large wooden doors. Lucienne stood in the corner of her study, scratching her chin as she glanced between two books.

“Working very hard, I see.”

At the sound of her voice, Lucienne turned and smiled at Y/n.

“Always,” the librarian responded. She stepped towards Y/n before gasping at the sight of the large cat, a hand on her heart and eyebrows raised.

Lucienne stared at the cat before looking back at Y/n. The librarian looked past Y/n, at Mervyn. The pumpkinhead nodded once and Lucienne dropped her hand, straightening her suit.

“I see you’ve made a new friend, Y/n.”

The woman smiled, petting the cat’s head. “Isn’t he lovely? He showed up in Fiddler’s Green just when I needed company. What are the chances?”

“I’d say pretty high,” Merv whispered to Matthew.

Lucienne shot Merv a warning glance before motioning towards the door. The pumpkinhead and raven tipped their head to the librarian before saying their goodbyes to Y/n and leaving.

When the doors shut, Lucienne motioned at the seats. “Sit, Y/n.”

Y/n sat down on her favourite chair and the cat followed her, sitting right beside her on the ground. Lucienne took the seat opposite of Y/n, her dark eyes glancing at the cat ever so often.

“How are you, my friend?”

Y/n’s smile fell momentarily before it widened. Yellow eyes watched her carefully, unblinking.

“I’m okay, Lucienne. Better.”

“You woke in Fiddler's Green today?”

Y/n nodded. “I did. I love Fiddler’s Green. It…” She looked away, a distant look in her eyes. “It reminds me of the place where Moprheus and I had our first meeting. All forests and clearings do.”

Lucienne looked at the cat, who had not moved his eyes from Y/n. Lucienne pursed her lips before gently smiling.

“Do you miss him?”

Y/n turned towards Lucienne, a conflicted look in her eyes. “I do. I miss his terrible company. More today, I suppose. Since it is the second meeting we have missed.”

Lucienne’s eyes softened. “I cannot imagine.”

An unprompted laugh escaped Y/n and she stared at Lucienne expectantly, an eyebrow raised.

“Yes, you can. You know him, Lucienne.” Y/n’s smile dimmed. “Time means nothing to him, does it?”

“No,” Lucienne’s eyes met yellow ones. “It does not.”

“I figured,” Y/n sighed. “How is he, Lucienne?”

The librarian lifted her eyes to meet Y/n’s.

“He is fine, Y/n. You must understand, Lord Morpheus is a complicated being. He loves his realm, but unlike his siblings, his responsibilities consist of the entire human unconsciousness. He is responsible for every human’s imaginative process when they sleep.”

Lucienne ignored the piercing stare and focused on Y/n’s intrigued eyes.

“He has a very bad habit of bursting into fits of rage and jeopardizing his own happiness, but it is not because he wants to, but because he takes his responsibilities very seriously and has no time to entertain anything else.”

Y/n leaned back in her chair, her hand resting on soft, black fur. “I understand, Lucienne. However, a busy schedule is no excuse. It is a reason, but not an excuse. He broke my heart that day. Said we were not friends. King of Dreams or not, Morpheus was mean.”

A sad, soft smile tugged at her lips. “If time means nothing to him, then it means nothing to me. I will wait for his apology.”

Lucienne sighed and pushed up her glasses. “You may have to wait quite a while, Y/n.”

Y/n grinned, holding up two fingers. “I’ve waited this long. What’s another couple hundred years?”

Lucienne smiled, shaking her head softly.

Y/n waved her hands. “Enough about Morpheus. Tell me, Lucienne. How are you?”

“I am well, Y/n.”

“That is not enough.” Y/n whined. “Tell me more! Any new interesting books?”

Lucienne raised an eyebrow and smiled. “Actually, there was a very interesting poem I read recently.”

Y/n’s smile turned secretive, her eyes bright. “Is that so? What did you think of it?”

“I loved it.”

Both women smiled at each other, both with secrets in their eyes.

Curious, yellow eyes watched them.

The Waking World was cold, lonely. The air pierced skin, a chill settling deep within Morpheus’s bones. He was immune to weather, and yet, could not help the shiver that ran up his spine.

Morpheus stood in front of a vaguely familiar building. His blue eyes narrowed at the figure moving about through the large window.

Morpheus watched Y/n walk around her library, tending to guests and readers.

He watched as she interacted with children, guided young girls to appropriate sections. He eyed the tall man who stood in front of the entrance, blocking the door.

Curious eyes watched as the man, one Dream recognized from The Dreaming. He stood rigid against the door, and Moprheus realized he was protecting it. A stir of emotions settled in his chest at the thought of Y/n needing protection.

Morpheus stood outside the library until nightfall, watching Y/n. He watched her as she laughed, sighed, and wrote. He could not see what she wrote, but when the quill was in her hand, nothing around Y/n existed.

She was in a realm of her own.

Once the library quietened, and people disappeared, Morpheus slipped into the shadows and hid between aisles. His heart beat loudly, and his fingers twitched. He had not been this close to Y/n as himself in a long time.

Morpheus had forgotten that although he was an Endless, his body resembled a humans. Nerves ate at his sanity, and he sunk into the shadows, glowing blue eyes watching Y/n.

Y/n carried a pile of books, tipping her head up to see where she was going. Once she reached the right shelf, she dropped the books onto the shelf, letting out a sigh. Stretching, she began to shelf the books, sliding them into their correct spot.

She had begun holding book clubs for women, and today had been her largest group yet. She realized that many of the townswomen did not know how to read, and some needed space from their husbands and family, so she gave them an escape.

There were a few girls living upstairs, in the empty rooms. Y/n could hear their muffled laughter and smiled to herself.

This is what she wanted. To help, to love.

Pushing the last book into place, Y/n clapped her hands, dusting them off.

“Alright,” she spoke, quietly. “Now, where is that little bastard?”

Y/n whistled, snapping her fingers. “Here, Nala.”

Y/n waited, hands on her hips. After a few moments, Y/n heard a quiet meow a few aisles over. Brushing off her dress, she made her way to her silly little kitten.

“Nala? Where are you, love?”

Y/n poked her head at every aisle until she found her Siamese cat sitting in the middle of a Romance aisle.

Shaking her head, Y/n walked towards her kitten. “A romantic, are you?”

Y/n smiled at her kitten before noticing the way she was sitting. Nala was looking into the shadows, her small head tilted sideways as her tail swayed.

Staring at the empty space before her, Y/n crouched down, petting the top of Nala’s head.

“What are you looking at, girl?”

Nala meowed again, and Y/n wished her Mother had granted her the ability to speak to cats.

A chill ran down Y/n’s smile and a familiar tug pulled at her heart. Her breathing hitched and she stilled.

“Is someone there?” Her voice was barely a whisper.

A tall, dark figure stepped out of the shadows and the world around them stopped. Y/n’s eyes stared at black boots, and traveled upwards. Her heart squeezed at the sight of a familiar black coat, stars hidden inside it. Her head tipped upwards and her breathing stopped when her eyes landed on a face she had yearned to see, one she had painted and written about.

Her muse.

Rigidly, Y/n stood. Her widened eyes traced every curve and dip on Moprheus’s face. Her lips curved upwards at the sight of his messy, black hair. His ebony skin glowed under the warm, yellow lights.

Y/n swallowed the lump in her throat, her eyes glistening. Her lips parted and as gently as a captain called to the sea, she felt Moprheus’s calling. His bright, blue eyes stared into her. A whirlpool of emotions danced in his eyes.

His soft, pink lips parted. “Y/n.”

Her name on his tongue was a prayer, the way a worshiper calls to a God. He spoke every syllable of her name, as if each letter was worth all the treasures in the world. Her name fell off his tongue like a burden one carried. His shoulders lightened, his eyes widened.

He said it again. A reminder, a promise. She was here, right in front of him.

Morpheus watched keenly as Y/n’s lips fell open and she whispered his name.

“Oneiros.”

It struck him, his name. The emotions and pain in her voice broke him. The way his name wavered on her lips, unbalanced him. As relieving as her name was to him, his name was trepidation on her lips.

“What are you doing here?”

Morpheus’s breathing had stilled, his eyes glazed and filled with emotion. When he appeared in the Waking World, he had not planned to apologize to Y/n. She pulled him to her, and before the Endless knew it, he was standing outside her library.

He raised his head, exhaling. An apology danced on his tongue and yet, when his lips parted, it died.

“There is a man standing outside your doors. Are you aware?”

Y/n’s expression fell, and her lips turned downwards. Before she could answer him, the library doors opened and the pair turned towards the interruption.

A deep, accented voice called out, filling the silence.

“Y/n? Darling? Ready to go home?”

Morpheus’s entire body went still, his eyes darkened and shadows crept onto him. He knew Y/n had lovers—partners—but the idea of a human man taking her home awakened something in Morpheus.

Something ill, sickening.

“Coming, love!” Y/n turned towards Morpheus, her eyes filled with conflict. She lowered her voice. “You must leave. He knows nothing, and I shall keep it that way.”

Morpheus heard something shatter in the distance, and with great displeasure, he learned that it had been his heart. He had taken a step towards mending the broken, and Y/n had taken several steps back.

“I…” Morpheus licked his lips, hesitant.

Y/n sighed, rubbing the space between her eyebrows. “I told you that I wished to never see or speak to you again.” Her eyes betrayed her and softened. “If you are not here to apologize, leave.”

They stared at each other. Stars stared at Y/n and she tried to find anger, a hint of annoyance in his eyes. Tension filled the space between them, millions of things unsaid tiptoed between them.

The sound of footsteps broke their stare and Y/n stepped back.

Crouching, she picked up Nala and turned away from Morpheus.

Walking away from him once again.

Morpheus raised his hand, unconsciously reaching for her. His fingers grazed the cloth on her shoulder as she walked away, and his hand fell.

He stepped back into the shadows, glowing eyes watching as the man he had seen outside smiled at Y/n, leaning down to press a gentle kiss to her forehead.

At the sight of her smile, one he had dreamed about, Morpheus fell back into The Dreaming.

Stone dug into Y/n’s elbows as she stared at the ships and dreams below her.

She stood on the bridge that connected Dream’s palace and the rest of The Dreaming. Dreamers stood around her, staring at the Sleeping Island and palace in awe. She relished in their amazement, finding solace in their wonder.

She inhaled, smiling at Martin Tenbones, a massive dog-like creature, as he explored a pirate ship below her.

Y/n heard a familiar cry, an elegant song, above her and looked up. Phoenix flew in circles above Y/n. She watched him with soft, sad eyes. A beautiful reminder of what she had gained and lost at his creation.

She had missed this. The magic of The Dreaming.

The wonder of it all.

After Dream’s visit years ago, Y/n had begun dreaming less. She forced herself to stay awake, finding companionship in the Waking World. She had missed The Dreaming greatly, but she could not handle the thought of Morpheus.

His visit had made her spiral. She had spent a long time coming to terms with the end of her relationship—association—with the King of Dreams and Nightmares.

The pain had become a dull ache, a wound that would never heal.

Leaning on the ledge of the bridge, Y/n tried thinking of things she would say to Morpheus if she saw him.

She knew she would. It had been her one wish before falling asleep tonight. She wanted to see him, speak to him. Give him the chance she denied him before.

“Think any harder and you may get some ugly forehead lines,” a familiar voice teased.

Y/n turned her head, raising her eyebrows at the nightmare. The Corinthian stood before her in his signature white suit, his hands in his pockets. His dark sunglasses stared back at her, a narcissistic smile on his lips.

“Know about them, do you?”

Smirking, The Corinthian walked up to Y/n. He leaned against the ledge of the bridge, facing the opposite direction. They stood shoulder to shoulder, a comfortable silence surrounding them.

Y/n had spent many hours with The Corinthian. She knew him, and he hated her for it. She had carved a space for herself in his personified heart, listening and spending time with him. He wanted humanity, and she was it for him. The closest he could get.

Reaching into her pocket, she pulled out a rolled up parchment. She stared at it for a moment before holding it out to the nightmare, hitting his arm with it.

The Corinthian looked down at the parchment.

“What is this?”

Y/n smiled. “A gift.”

His smirk faltered. The Corinthian had never received a gift before. Even he was not a gift, but a mirror, a challenge.

With gentleness Y/n had never seen, The Corinthian grabbed the parchment and unrolled it.

Upon the parchment was a painting; a man with blonde hair and a white suit stood with his back to the viewer, face hidden, he stared at the room before him filled with men and children, an ebony hand clocked in black on his shoulder.

The man in the painting was not alone, he stood at the brink of humanity, his creator standing behind him.

It was The Corinthians dream. One he had never said aloud, but conveyed in his actions, his words.

Y/n watched his expression with anxious curiosity. She had gifted her art many times before, but there was something different about gifting art to art.

“Do you… like it?”

The Corinthian said nothing for a moment. His hold on the parchment tightened and when he lifted his head, for the first time since his creation, he was glad he did not have eyes, for they would be glazed and teary.

Heavy with emotion, foreign and human, he nodded. “I do.” He licked his lips. “You painted this for me?”

Y/n nodded, smiling softly at his crestfallen expression.

The Corinthian was truly a dark mirror made to reflect humanity; he hated humans but loved them so passionately he wanted to consume them, he loved his creator although he despised him, and he craved power as much as he faltered at the sight of it.

“Sometimes, only art can take us to where we need to be.”

Rolling up the parchment, The Corinthian pocketed it. He vowed to protect it and hold it sacred for as long as he lived. Pushing his sunglasses up, he turned his head towards Y/n.

“Tell me, human. Would you gift me paintings if I became a killer?”

His words were spoken lightly, but the curiosity behind them was real. Y/n faced the water, her eyes on a mermaid that swam near the surface. She mulled over her answer, a hundred thoughts racing in her mind.

“Perhaps,” she finally answered.

“You would not hate me if I killed your kind? Ate their eyes?” The Corinthian moved closer to Y/n, his lips near her ear. He needed to instill fear in her, control the situation. “Terrorized humanity?”

Y/n did not move, nor did she falter. She had spent her fair share of time with men crueler than the nightmare. A human’s brutality could never compare to an unconscious thought. He did not scare her, as much as he tried.

“I don’t think I could ever hate you, Cori. Humans kill humans all the time. If a nightmare killed a human, it would be poetic.”

The Corinthian exhaled a laugh, her words fuelling a fire neither had noticed had begun. The air around him grew colder and the nightmare lifted his head, finding his creator staring at him with cold, blue eyes.

Pushing himself off the ledge, he straightened his suit and tipped his head.

“Until next time, trouble.”

Y/n smiled at him, snorting at the nickname. “See you, Cori.” She watched him disappear, and turned her head to face The Dreaming.

The hairs on Y/n’s neck stood and her spine tingled. She could feel his presence, smell his arrival in the air. Her breathing stilled as she waited, her fingers trembling.

“Y/n.”

Her name fell from Morpheus’s lips as if he craved it, raspy. It tugged at her heart. Biting her bottom lip, she slowly turned to face him.

With the ledge pressing into her back, Y/n lifted her head and drank in the being before her.

Morpheus stood tall, his hair a mess and coat the same. His pale skin glowed under the clear sky, but it was his eyes that captured Y/n’s attention. Blue, bright eyes stared at her, an eloquent emotion in them she could not decipher.

They were on her, traveling up and down until they settled on her face, searching, memorizing.

“You are here.”

All of Y/n’s initial anger and ache dissolved with that single sentence. It held every apology, every question, the very essence of every poetic rekindling known to man. It was soft, a plea.

Do not leave again, it said.

I am glad you are back, it whispered.

“I am.”

Her voice was the prettiest sound to ever reach his ears, and his eyes fluttered. He had longed to hear it, afraid she would never speak to him again. He often found himself leaning at the edge of his throne, listening for the sound of her laughter.

When Y/n had fallen asleep tonight, he felt her calling. His name reached his ears beyond hundreds of dreams, a quiet whisper of wanting. He set aside his duties, and vowed to apologize.

Five hundred years had been too many, and he could not stay away any longer.

Morpheus took one step closer and Y/n’s heart began beating rapidly, it rang in her ears.

“The Dreaming has missed you,” Morpheus said, quietly.

His eyes said something different: I have missed you.

Y/n’s lips lifted into a small smile. “I have missed The Dreaming.”

Her eyes said: I missed you.

He took a small step towards her, her chin tilting upwards to maintain eye contact. They stared at each other, millions of things going unsaid.

Y/n waited, held her tongue. She could see Morpheus’s struggle, the way his breath shook his shoulders. His lips parted, and Y/n felt herself lift off the ledge, eager for his words.

“My duty… my very purpose… it is crushing. Overwhelming.” He stepped closer, his deep, low voice wrapping around her heart.

“I am every dream, and every dream is me. I am responsible for every human’s sub and unconscious. For years, I have tried to push all that does not concern my realm behind me. Distractions are for the weak, and I am anything but.”

“Dream,” Y/n whispered. His words squeezed her heart, the admittance of his lonesome broke her heart.

Morpheus raised a hand, silencing her. His eyes were pleading. Let me say this, they said.

“If your feelings from the Barren have not changed then stop me at once, Y/n. I will never approach you again, you will never see or speak to me again.” His eyes were red, glazed with unshed tears.

He stepped closer, their air mingling. “If your feelings have changed, then let me be the first to say that I apologize for my behaviour, my words. You are a friend to The Dreaming.” The outsoles of their shoes touched. “To me.”

“Forgive me, Y/n.” Morpheus’s voice dripped like honey, soft. “I have heard that it is unkind to treat your friends the way I have.”

Y/n raised her hand, gently resting it on Morpheus’s forearm, soft black cloth separating their skin. She stared into his red-rimmed eyes, swearing to paint a sea the colour of his bright blue eyes.

“Morpheus,” she whispered. “You’re very good at apologizing. Have you done it much?” Her eyes twinkled, shining. At the sight of her smile, Morpheus’s lips twitched.

“I forgive you,” she said. Her voice turned wistful. “I am sorry I did not understand it before.”

Morpheus shook his head, unable to stomach her empathy. He wished she would have yelled, cursed him. Her acceptance, her forgiveness, felt unearned.

“You are not in the wrong, Y/n. I am.”

Dropping her hand, she smiled widely at him. “It is all in the past, yes? Do not burden yourself with this any longer, Morpheus.”

Morpheus’s lips trembled and he looked away, blinking. When he turned back, Y/n was still smiling at him and he basked in it.

“Would you accompany me on a walk?”

Y/n’s eyes disappeared as she smiled, and it physically pained him. He itched to make her grin permanent, unable to accept any other expression on her face.

“Always.”

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nocapesdahling · 2 years

Text

Call it Dreaming

Dream of the Endless x GN! Reader

My Masterlist

Summary: You’ve been stressed out lately and haven’t been sleeping as much as you should. Fortunately, Dream is here to make sure tonight is different.

Warnings/Tags: Soft!Dream of the Endless; He’s very soft; Fluff; Comfort; Tired and Stressed! Reader; Established relationship; Hints of Dom!Dream; Implied sexual content; Dream’s eyeliner

Word Count: 2.1k

A/N: To preface, I haven’t read the comics yet though I’m looking forward to it. I loved the show and really wanted to write some fluff with a soft Dream, so here we are. Hope you enjoy!

You’d had a long and stressful week, filled with inescapable deadlines, overtime, and sleepless nights. All you wanted to do when you got home that Friday evening was throw on some comfortable clothes and sleep.

You might finally get to see your absent lover, whose time had been taken up by his duties, in your dreams. It was an added bonus because while others’ busy partners might work long hours with little to no time to see them, your nights — your dreams — were filled with both passion and comfort. The limitations of the waking world didn’t apply to dreams, especially not to your Dream.

You opened your door with a sigh of relief and placed your bags in an out of the way corner. There would be no thinking about work this weekend, and you hoped that the saying would hold true – that out of sight would translate to out of mind. The last thing you needed was to dream about work. Not that Morpheus would allow that anyway.

You were just finishing your dinner when you heard a telltale “Caw”, which was followed by a knock on the door and then a second in quick succession. You smiled to yourself. There was only one person it could be. Well, being might be a more apt term in this case. After Morpheus had scared you by appearing suddenly in your bedroom too many times, you’d insisted he knock and he’d begun knocking twice in a specific rhythm to ensure you knew it was him.

Flashback:

“It makes me feel like I have a gentleman caller, you know?” Your voice was teasing in the hopes you could bring one of his small rare smiles, which flickered and warmed you like candlelight, out. Maybe even with teeth this time. You’d only seen that one a couple of times and you wanted to see more of it. More importantly, you wanted to see Morpheus – this improbable and unfathomable being that you’d somehow fallen in love with – happy. And he did smile though it was more of a mischievous smirk, his expression playful.

“I wouldn’t expect to see much of a gentleman tonight. Not with my plans for you, beloved.” His voice had deepened even more than usual, and you could feel it lingering in your ears and resonating down to your bones. As you pulled him into a kiss, there was no more talk of gentlemen callers that evening. In fact, there was no more talking at all.

But ever since, Morpheus had knocked to announce his presence without fail.

End Flashback

You smiled at yourself in the mirror to make sure there was nothing in your teeth before opening the door. “Hello, love. No Matthew tonight?”

At your gesture, he stepped inside and his velvety soft coat brushed against your legs – the stars swirled along the inside and looked for a moment as though their ever changing galaxy would transfer to you.

“He’s keeping watch.” Dream turned away from surveying the room, to see if there was anything new you supposed, and cupped your cheek. His hands were soothing in their coolness and his deep blue eyes, which were accentuated quite nicely by the eyeliner you’d bought him, were filled with concern as he surveyed your face. “You haven’t been sleeping.”

You closed the door and moved to sit on the couch, prolonging the time till you would have to answer. Your voice when you spoke was quiet, “I have been.”

Dream followed you to the couch and clasped your hand in his. “Not enough. Not nearly enough. My realm has suffered in your absence. It has been raining for days, and yesterday we had one of our first involuntary thunderstorms,” he paused, “I have suffered in your absence.” Dream looked away for a moment, uncomfortable with that display of emotion, and moved his thumb over your hand.

You thought he was overreacting a bit, but how could you say that to one of the Endless?

Instead, you countered with, “It was only a few days of less sleep, Morpheus. That’s all.” You may have been fudging it a bit and it might have been more like a week or so, but you didn’t want him to worry. You should have known better.

He shifted closer and squeezed your hand before placing it on his thigh. “That’s all, hmm? You wouldn’t be lying about your sleep to the King of Dreams, would you beloved?” When you didn’t respond, looking down at the floor, he continued, “It has been over a week since you have had sufficient hours of REM sleep as the humans call it, and that is too long. It’s not healthy. Humans need the Dreaming. You need the Dreaming.” He paused for a moment and you looked up to meet his imploring eyes. Morpheus leaned in and pressed a light kiss to your forehead and when he spoke again, his voice was soft, “And the Dreaming… and its King need you.”

You breathed in audibly and stifled a sob. You were so tired.

He pulled you into a hug and as you rested your head on his chest, his slow and steady heartbeat calmed you. He was here now and everything would be alright.

“I’m sorry, love. It wasn’t a good week and I was too stressed to sleep most nights. I missed you.”

He pressed another kiss to the top of your head and caressed his hand up and down your back. When he spoke, with your ear pressed against his chest his voice reminded you of the best nights of sleep you’d ever had as it resonated through your body. “I missed you too, beloved.”

“I’m so tired, Morpheus.”

“I know, I’m here. May I carry you?”

“Of course. Thank you, love.”

“It’s always a pleasure to care for you, my beloved.”

He shifted you to stand then leaned over to wind his hands under your knees and picked you up with your head leaning against his chest. The journey to your bedroom took no time at all. Dream placed you on your bed and began taking the pillows off, unmaking it just the way you liked. He closed the curtains and pulled off his boots as you watched him through half lidded eyes. He sent you a glimpse of a fond smile before settling onto the bed, coat and all, and patting your pillow next to him.

“Come up here, beloved. If you’d like, then I can read you to sleep.”

You sighed before beginning to inch your way up the bed, taking care to emulate a worm as closely as possible. His small flame of a smile flickered into being again, showing his amusement at your antics. You’d almost reached your pillow before sitting up with abruptness at your sudden realization.

“I can’t go to sleep yet. I haven’t brushed my teeth or washed my face.” You pushed yourself out of bed with a groan and moved to the bathroom. “Give me five minutes, and I’m all yours.”

You almost didn’t hear his response as quiet as it was. “You are always mine. As I am always yours.”

You smiled and watched your eyes crinkle with happiness in the mirror. He was so wonderful. Like something out of a dream. That thought made you laugh out loud at both its cheesiness and its accuracy.

“What’s so funny, beloved? Your toothbrush perhaps?”

“No, I had a silly thought is all. So my Dream, was this how you thought tonight would go?”

“In what way?”

“You’re wearing eyeliner. The eyeliner. You know what that does to me, and it makes me think you had very different plans for tonight.”

“Plans change. My priority when we are together is always you and your wellbeing. I will wear my eyeliner another night. Just for you, beloved.”

“You bet you will.” You finished your routine and moved back to your bed, glad to see that Morpheus hadn’t moved. He looked content, waiting there with his back resting against your headboard. You pulled the covers down and then back up again as you settled into bed facing him. You placed your hand in his and smiled up at him. “I think I’m too tired for you to read to me tonight, Morpheus, but I have a book of poetry ready for next time.”

His voice when he spoke was soothing, “I look forward to it. Sleep now, beloved.”

“And Dream a little Dream of you?”

“Exactly, may you have ‘sleep that relieves you and heals you. Sleep that soothes away all your worries.’”

“I didn’t know you knew Shakespeare.”

“Oh yes, I must tell you that story sometime.”

Wait, did that mean he actually knew Shakespeare? As in knew him? It was moments like these that reminded you that while he may look human, he wasn’t. It was easy to forget sometimes that your lover was an Endless, but when he said things like that or when you saw swirling galaxies in the gleam of his eyes you remembered.

“Sleep now, and I will meet you in your dreams.” Dream’s voice was hypnotic and had a soporific effect on you. You closed your eyes and within moments fell into the dark ocean of oblivion before opening them to somewhere else.

All you could see was green — a beautiful verdant green, filled with plants and flowers. You dug your toes into the earth and watched a butterfly land on your hand. You’d missed this place. Fiddler’s Green was one of your favorite places in the Dreaming.

You didn’t see Dream yet, so you made your way along the path towards the falls. Between one blink and the next, Morpheus’s hand was in yours as he walked alongside you.

“Is it a good dream, beloved?”

Your voice when you answered was teasing,“You know it is, King of Dreams, but better now that you’re here.” You sat by the edge of the azure lake and breathed in the refreshing mist of the cascading water as you patted the spot next to you. Morpheus settled alongside you and stretched his legs out, boots and all, towards the water. “Didn’t you take those off?”

The look he gave you made you smile. It was the, This is my Domain and I will wear boots if I want to, look. You shook your head and then laid down with your head in his lap. It was so peaceful here that the outside world felt like nothing more than a distant memory, a far off dream. Morpheus looked relaxed and some of the cares had fallen away from his face as he gazed at the falls with his hand resting on top of yours.

You didn’t know how much time had passed in that intimate and comfortable silence. It could have been hours or minutes before you spoke, “As much as I wish I could lay here with you forever, don’t you have duties?”

He hummed. “I do. I always do, but Lucienne is more than capable of taking them tonight. You are my priority.”

He looked down at you and ‘his eyes gleamed like twin stars in the sky’ — the love and devotion within them endless.

You smiled up at him, your Dream, and hoped your corresponding love shined back. You pushed yourself into a seated position and gently claimed his lips in a kiss that grew into one of greater passion and intensity. The moan you let out – as he deepened the kiss and laid you down on the blanket that had appeared in an instant — was involuntary. You reached up to run your fingers through his hair, which he leaned into for a moment before holding your wrists in a gentle grasp and moving them over your head.

“Do not forget whose realm this is, beloved.”

There was no chance of that happening, especially as both of your clothes disappeared with a thought from Morpheus.

You gasped as he left your hands where they were and made his way down your body. As he looked up at you through his eyelashes with a small glimpse of a smile, you felt like you could fall into the gleaming blue ocean of his eyes. It looked like the eyeliner had served its purpose after all.

As you lost yourself in your Dream, knowing that tomorrow you’d wake up refreshed and revitalized, you were so happy you’d found love in and with Morpheus.

While you may not always see him in the waking world, you knew he would always find you in the Dreaming. The main caveat was you had to remember to sleep first. Then again, Dream was doing a good job at the moment of convincing you to never skip out on sleep again.

Reblogs, likes, and comments are much appreciated. Thanks so much for reading!

A/N: This is the first fic I’ve posted in ages and the first of what may be more Morpheus fics, so I hope you all liked it and please let me know if you did!

I love the idea of Dream’s moods affecting the weather in the Dreaming. Dream’s paraphrased quote about sleep is from Macbeth. The quote about Morpheus’s eyes “gleaming like twin stars in the sky” is from the comics.

This was partially inspired by Morpheus’s episode of the Dreamcast, which if you haven’t listened to yet I highly recommend it.

My Masterlist

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