#morpheus x reader fluff

[fatecantstopme]

could make an imagine where reader fem is a goddess or an immortal being who is caught and imprisoned along with morpheus and after a century spent in that bubble with the infinite being and keeping each other company, she created affection for the same however free now she she doesn't know if dream wants her by his side, since now he has responsibility and a kingdom to rebuild, and she has a lost century to chase.🤗🤗

A/N: Okay, I love this idea...hope you do too! 💜

My Hope

Pairing: Morpheus x immortal!reader

Summary: Reader is an immortal who was simply in the wrong place at the wrong time and was captured alongside Morpheus when Roderick Burgess cast his spell to imprison death. The two form a bond during their century of captivity, but what happens after they're free?

Warnings: Angst (obvi), and definitely a fluffy ending. Discussions of captivity and Jessamy's death.

You were walking down a dark road at night, completely alone, with not a single concern for your safety. You often took walks late at night to ease your mind and help you sleep. You had lived far longer than any of your human companions could ever dream, but such a life took its toll on you. The loneliness had begun to creep in after a lifetime of losing everyone you had ever loved, again and again, with no end in sight.

You were nothing special, not a goddess or a powerful being of any kind. You were once mortal, but you had been granted a gift long ago by a woman you had befriended, the only woman who had managed to live as long as you. You had known her as Teleute, though others would call her Death.

You had been sick, dying, and Teleute had come to you in the moments preceding what should have been your death. She was your friend and you knew her well, but in that moment, you saw her for what she was. Unlike many of the people she had guided in her Endless life, you were not afraid, not of her, nor of the Sunless Lands. Although it was her duty, Teleute could not bring herself to watch your life come to a close. Instead, she gifted you immortality, the chance to live endless lives, the opportunity to spread your warmth and compassion to countless others in the coming centuries.

It was a gift you did not waste, nor did you wish to return it, but it had become a heavy burden at times like these. Moments when you laid to rest someone you had loved, whether it be friend or lover, it hurt all the same.

This particular evening, you wandered the dark streets, plagued by memories of those you had lost, sleep a distant dream. Just up ahead, you heard voices, one sounded frightened, but it was the other that caught your attention. The voice was impossibly deep, and it carried with it an authority you felt deep in your bones. The voice reminded you of black velvet, thick and luxuriously laid across your skin, warming you from the outside in.

As you neared the source of the voices, you suddenly felt a strange pull, and the world around you disappeared. You landed with a painful thud on a cold concrete floor, in a place you did not recognize. When your eyes fluttered open, you saw several people standing around you, and a cloaked figure lying on the floor beside you. You watched in horror as they removed each item of clothing from the figure, including a helmet of sorts, a leather pouch, and what appeared to be a ruby necklace. When all was stripped away, the figure of a man laid bare before you.

Though you did not know him, anger rippled through you at the cruel and careless treatment shown to him. "Who are you?" you angrily demanded of the man you deemed to be in charge.

"I am Roderick Burgess, the Magus, and I have captured Death."

You let out a hoarse laugh. "I do not know who this man is, but I can assure you he is not Death, nor, for the record, am I."

The man, Burgess, did not look convinced. "My spell brought you both to me, so if you are not Death, then who are you?"

You shrugged. "No one of consequence, at least not to you. So it seems your spells may need a bit of work."

He leaned in closer to you, careful to avoid the circle that surrounded you, a circle, you quickly realized, that was a boundary spell. "Perhaps some time alone in the darkness will soften you a bit. I have demands that one or both you must meet if you wish to see the light of day again." He paused, then gestured towards his acolytes. "But first, you will be stripped of your belongings, much like your friend."

To your horror, several men grabbed at your clothing and quickly rid you of it, down to nothing but your slip. You shivered in the cold, most of your skin bare for everyone to see, feeling the flames of rage settle into your bones. "You will pay for this disgrace, Roderick Burgess, of that, I promise you."

He did not seem bothered by your words, instead letting out a barked laugh as he walked away, his acolytes trailing behind him.

Your anger dissipated slightly when the spectators had left, turning instead to concern for the being laying next to you. You had nothing to cover him with, though you desperately wished for even a scrap of cloth you could share with him. He had to be cold, lying bare against in the concrete floor. "Are you alright?" you asked softly.

The man did not respond, but you could see the rise and fall of his chest, assuring you he was alive. "My name is (Y/N)," you said gently, just in case he could hear you. "I do not know why we are here, nor where exactly here is, but I will not leave you. I offer you what protection I can and I offer the promise of my companionship for as long as we are bound to this place."

While the man did not respond, you had a distinct feeling he could hear every word you said. His tense form seemed to relax slightly as you spoke, the obvious pain in his muscles seeming to fade away little by little.

Hours passed, how many, you did not know, but the man beside you never stirred, never woke. What you were unaware of was what was happening just above your heads, in the office of Roderick Burgess...

**********

"He is Dream of the Endless," The Corinthian said.

"And what of the woman?" Burgess asked.

Corinthian looked confused. "What woman?"

"I captured a woman with him. She will not tell me who she is."

"Was she wearing an ankh necklace?"

"No."

"Hmm...then I am unsure of who she is. My apologies. But I would recommend placing her in the same cell as Dream, to be safe."

"Cell?"

Corinthian sighed. He was surprised that a man as dense as Burgess had managed to capture an Endless, but pleased nonetheless. "Yes, a cell. An orb of sorts. Do exactly as I say and he will never escape."

**********

Down in the dungeon, you watched as men built a giant glass sphere, a sphere you assumed was intended for you and your companion, a companion who still had not woken. Much to your dismay, and perhaps your annoyance, you were correct in your assumption.

Your companion was unceremoniously tossed into this sphere upon its completion and though you fought with all your strength, you were tossed in along with him. You sat at the edge of the sphere, legs pulled up to your chest, desperately attempting to cover as much of yourself as you could with the tiny slip dress you wore. Your companion was curled up in the other corner, pain evident in his features, and you felt the rage build up in you again.

"You're a monster," you said to Burgess as he entered the room.

He laughed. "Perhaps, but if you give me what I want, I will free you."

"It does not matter what you wish for, I cannot give it."

"The you had better hope your friend can, or you will die in this glass cage, here in my dungeon."

You did not speak, choosing instead to level a steely glare at the man who had imprisoned you. Something in your gaze clearly frightened him, and he quickly left the dungeon, but not before ordering two of his men to stay behind and watch you.

You chose to ignore the men who stared at you, clearly trying to get a sneak peak at your body beneath the thin slip you wore. You instead turned your attention to the man beside you, whispering words of encouragement in his direction. You were worried about him, fearing the worst, but his chest still rose and fell rhythmically, at least for the moment.

**********

You were unsure how much time had passed when the man beside you finally stirred. You felt his presence more strongly than you had before, as if his soul had just now returned to his body. He was slow to move, as if each movement caused him pain, and your heart ached for him.

"Are you alright?" you asked gently, voice a soft murmur.

His gaze turned to you and you inhaled sharply. His eyes were deep pools of blue, but there was a distinct ethereal quality about them that took your breath away. You might have been nothing special, but there was certainly something special about the being beside you.

He did not speak, at least not audibly, but you heard a gentle voice inside your head, a voice you instantly recognized. "I am weak, but alive, thanks to your kindness."

It was the voice you had heard the night you were captured, the one that you felt inexplicably drawn to. "My name is (Y/N)," you whispered.

"I am Dream of the Endless," his voice replied in your head.

Hearing his name brought back memories, memories of your dear friend. "I know your sister, Teleute."

Surprise lit up his features and he eyed you closely. His voice was hesitant as he spoke in your mind, "You know of Death?"

You nodded. "She has been my friend for centuries. I live only because she allowed it."

Realization crossed his face, remembering his sister describing the woman she had gifted immortality to. He had never met her, but he felt as though he knew her simply through Death's stories. He did not know how to relay that information to you without verbal words in his current state. He was barely strong enough to speak short sentences within your mind.

As if you understood what he was thinking, you placed a gentle hand against his and whispered, "Rest now, we can speak later."

He appreciated your kindness, but also the warmth of your hand against his. He nodded and leaned back against the cold glass, eyes closing again.

You felt instinctively protective of Dream, in part because of your connection with Death, but also because much like Death had spoken to Dream of you, she had also told you about him. He was every bit as she had described him, though smaller and more fragile than you had expected. You realized it was likely because everything had been taken from him, things he relied upon for strength and power. You knew there was not much you could do for him in the way of protection, but you silently vowed that you would do everything in your power to ensure you both got out of this alive.

**********

The years passed by, Dream never speaking a word aloud, Burgess never backing down from his demands, and you refusing to give Burgess the satisfaction of your emotional reactions. You were as silent as the Endless beside you, but when Burgess left, you would speak softly to the dream lord, and he would reply in your head.

As time passed, he grew strong enough to speak long, slow sentences in your mind, telling you of his home, The Dreaming, and of the dream folk who resided there. He spoke of Lucienne, his librarian, and of Jessamy, his beloved Raven.

There were moments, when he spoke, that is eyes seemed to glow with starlight. It was a beautiful sight, but it never lasted more than a moment, the realization of his predicament always dampening any glimmer of hope he held in his soul.

Unbeknownst to you, he had found hope in you. You were like a light in the darkness, keeping him from falling into complete despair. Your soft words and your gentle reassurances were enough to keep him going despite the hell you both remained in.

One morning, much to your surprise, and to his, you heard the sound of wings flapping outside the sphere. When you looked up, you saw a beautiful raven with a patch of white on her chest and you knew instantly this was Jessamy, Dream's beloved raven companion.

Dream's face lit up for the first time in years. You saw the hope in his eyes and the pure delight at seeing his friend. Jessamy frantically pecked against the glass, desperately trying to break it and set her master free.

As the glass began to crack, you heard a loud gunshot ring out and the beautiful bird fell to the floor, bloody and broken.

You felt Dream's pain and your heart broke for him, and for his sweet raven. When your eyes fell on the man--no, boy--who had committed this heinous act, you felt a venomous rage build up within you.

As the boy's father yelled at him and demanded he clean up the mess he'd made, you sat silent beside the dream lord, like two statues refusing to show emotion.

When the boy and his father left, leaving the two of you alone with your guards, you turned to Dream, expression soft and sad. "Dream?" you asked gently.

He turned to look at you, eyes haunted and filled with unshed tears.

You did not ask for his permission, you simply wrapped him in a hug and held him close. He would not cry, you knew, but you would not let him mourn alone.

After several minutes, the dream lord laid down beside you and placed his head in your lap. Your fingers ran through his soft hair, soothing him as he closed his eyes and tried to rid himself of the painful image forever burned in his mind.

**********

It had been 50 years since the two of you had been imprisoned when things began to change between you both. Your companionship had long-since turned to friendship, but now was blossoming into something more. Every time you spoke or looked his way, Dream felt a warmth in his chest he hadn't felt in centuries. And you relished in the sound of his voice resonating in your mind, and in the way his eyes held your gaze, unspoken emotions swimming deep within them.

You had told him of your life, the good and the bad, and you had spent most of the last 50 years wide awake, whether you wanted to or not. Dream had noticed this several years prior and asked you if you wished to sleep. At the time, your answer had been no, you had not wished to relive your life's worst moments, but now, after the passage of so much time, you were exhausted. Your mind had been foggy for ages, a fog Dream was painfully aware of every time he spoke words into your mind.

"Perhaps I can gift you a peaceful sleep? One lacking in any dreams at all," he spoke softly in your mind.

His words barely registered at all and you said nothing. Dream felt a deep worry in his heart and he reached out again. When you still did not reply, he reached a hand out and placed it against your arm, rousing you from your trance-like state.

You turned your head to look at him and he once again asked you if you would like to sleep. This time, you nodded your head and he closed his eyes, taking a moment to gather what little strength he had. He could not do much in his current state, but he was determined to give you this.

You slowly closed your eyes and drifted off into a silent, dreamless sleep, a gift from the lord of dreams himself. Your body went limp and you slumped against his shoulder, breath deepening as you relaxed into a peaceful slumber.

Dream's body tensed at first at the feeling of your head against his shoulder, but he soon relaxed, enjoying the feeling of your body so close to his.

You slept for days, a deep, restful sleep you had not realized you were so desperately in need of. When you finally awoke, you found yourself cradled against Dream's chest, the gentle beating of his heart soothing your worried mind.

You did not wish to alert him to your waking, but he felt it all the same. He was, after all, the god of sleep. "Did you sleep well?" he asked in your mind, a mind that was much sharper and clearer than it had been in years.

"I did, yes," you lifted your head and looked up into his eyes, surprised at the deep emotion you saw within them. If you had not known better, you would have described those beautiful pools as affectionate, even loving. "Thank you," you whispered.

"It was my pleasure."

**********

Another 50 years passed and by this point, you were starting to lose hope that you would ever escape. Your only pleasure was the companionship you had gained over the last century. The dream lord was unlike any being you had ever met and you'd found yourself falling in love with him, despite the terrible situation you were in.

You had not said a word to him, nor would you, at least not while in captivity. You did not want him to think you cared for him only because he was all there was. Now that you knew him, truly knew him, you knew that was exactly the way he would think.

On this particular day, Alex and his husband, Paul, had come to visit you one last time. As they left, Paul broke the boundary spell that had held you both for a century. He turned and gave you a look of acknowledgment before leaving the dungeon for the final time.

Your eyes met Dream's in a hopeful glance and he inclined his head slightly to acknowledge you. He knew what you were asking without speaking and he answered without words.

You watched as the scene unfolded before you. You did not know what images Dream had placed into the guard's mind, all you knew was that the glass was broken and you were finally free.

Dream took your hand and you felt the power in his veins that had been missing for a century. He was suddenly clothed, his long cloak returning to him. He turned to you and placed a soft kiss against your forehead as you stood there in the dungeon, bullets flying around you. You felt warm clothes cover your body and your eyes locked onto the dream lord's face. You knew what he was doing, and you did not fault him for it.

When he was finished, his eyes fluttered open and he pulled you in close, holding you tightly before you both disappeared, leaving the waking world entirely.

You landed in what felt like soft sand, but you could not figure out where you were. There was a breeze and the sound of waves, but you could not feel Dream's body any more.

You heard the sound of a voice you did not know and then you heard the warmth of Dream's voice covering you like waves on the beach. "Dream?" you called out.

"I am here," he said softly, reaching down to help you to your feet.

Your eyes adjusted to your new surroundings, seeing light for the first time in a century. You looked around, taking in what really did appear to be a beach, and a giant walled...city? Memories came flooding back to you and you realized this was Dream's home. "The Dreaming," you said in awe.

Dream smiled at you warmly. "Welcome, (Y/N), to my realm."

Your eyes landed on a woman you knew instantly, though you had never met. "You must be Lucienne," you said warmly.

The librarian looked surprised. "You know me?"

You looked up at Dream. "We had some time to talk..."

He winced slightly, but nodded his agreement. He began to walk towards the massive gates, you following behind him, and Lucienne just behind you.

"Sir?" Lucienne called.

Dream turned to her. "What is it, Lucienne?"

"The Dreaming sir, it is not as you left it."

"What do you mean?"

She gestured to the gates. "See for yourself."

The gates opened as if they sensed their master. When you saw what laid beyond them, you gasped in surprise.

Dream turned to Lucienne and whispered, "Who did this?"

Lucienne explained that The Dreaming had simply deteriorated over the century he had been gone...and that most of the dream folk had long since left.

Your heart immediately went out to Dream, the pain on his face evident as he took in the remains of his home. You stepped forward and slipped your hand into his, a gentle reassurance as well as a reminder that you were there for him, whatever he needed.

Although he did not speak, he was incredibly thankful to have you by his side, to give him strength when all seemed hopeless. But to you, the outside observer, all you could see was cold sorrow, none of the warmth that he had shown you over the years.

"I must gather my tools and rebuild," he said simply, a fierce determination lacing his voice. He pulled away from you and began to walk towards what remained of his palace, a king on his way to a broken throne.

You turned to look at Lucienne, seeking some sort of guidance, or perhaps comfort, in her eyes. What you saw was a piercing sadness, not just for The Dreaming, or for Dream himself, but for you. In her eyes, you saw her view of Dream, the cold, distant ruler of a dying realm.

You looked at Dream's retreating form and you saw it too, for the first time in a century, you saw the coldness that Dream showed the rest of the world. You had hoped that your years together in captivity, and the love that had seemingly grown between you, would form an everlasting bond between the two of you. It seemed, at least from your view, that perhaps you had misjudged the dream lord, and a deep sadness settled into your soul, unlike any you had yet faced.

**********

Dream seemed to forget about you as he went about trying to collect his tools so he could return to his former strength and rebuild his realm.

The more effort he put into his search, the more distant he became. Until a time in which you decided that you could not live this way, a mere shadow of the past living in a cold, unwelcoming present. So you left The Dreaming, returning once again to the waking world, in search of the hope you had once found in the lord of dreams.

Dream noticed your absence immediately and sought Lucienne for explanation. "Where is she?" he asked when he found the librarian conducting her census.

"Where is who, my lord?"

"(Y/N)."

Lucienne was surprised at the tone of hurt in her master's voice as he spoke your name. "Well, my lord, I believe she returned to the waking world."

"Why? Is The Dreaming not to her liking? I am doing my best to restore it, but I do not have my ruby as of yet and I feel I cannot complete my tasks until I have it."

"No, my lord, it is not The Dreaming she took issue with."

Dream looked confused and he shook his head passionately. "Then what could have possibly driven her away?"

Lucienne was quiet, afraid to upset her master further.

"Please, Lucienne, if you know something, speak."

"Sir, you have been very busy, both with the rebuilding of the kingdom and the search for your tools." She paused. "Perhaps you have been a bit too busy."

His look was pure annoyance...the audacity of her to think that he would have ever forgotten about you... Realization dawned on his face and his expression softened tremendously. "I have neglected her in my haste to repair the damage caused by my absence."

Lucienne nodded slowly, allowing Dream to come to his own conclusions.

"She was by my side through every moment of the last century, every painful part of it, she was there like a guiding light, the brightest soul I have ever encountered. How could I have let her feel this way? As if she is unimportant to me."

Lucienne knew better than to answer his question. It was not really meant for her anyway. "Perhaps, my lord, you should seek her out in the waking world?"

He knew the search for his ruby should take priority, but his heart ached at your absence. He did not wish to return to a realm without you in it, regardless of the presence of all his tools. "I believe you are right, Lucienne. I must find her."

Lucienne was slightly surprised that he admitted she was right, but she could not help but feel joy that he wished to seek you out.

"Can you, I mean, in my absence will you--?" Dream could not seem to find the words he wanted.

Lucienne smiled. "Of course, my lord."

He knew she would understand, as she always did. He pulled a small handful of sand from his pouch and disappeared into the waking world, desperate to find the hope he had lost.

**********

It felt good to be in the waking world, to be free to do whatever you wished. You loved the way the sunlight felt against your skin, the breeze in your hair...all the things you had missed in your century of captivity. None of it, however, could fill the emptiness in your heart, emptiness only a certain Endless could fill.

You were sitting on a park bench, enjoying the beautiful summer day, when you noticed someone sit down beside you. You did not need to turn your head to know who it was. "Teleute," you said warmly. "It has been far too long."

"Indeed it has. How are you, (Y/N)?"

You turned to look at your friend, her expression telling you she knew exactly how you were doing. "I spent the last century in captivity, Death. How do you think I am?"

Death winced at your tone and you sighed, feeling bad for snapping at her. She did not deserve such venom...she was not the Endless you were upset with. "My apologies, Teleute."

Death waved off your apology. "Unnecessary. I understand why you would be upset. You have every right to be."

"In all honesty, it is not the captivity that has me in this mood."

"Ahh," Death said as she sat back against the bench. "The moodiest of all the Endless got to you too?"

Your head whipped towards her, surprise evident in your expression. "Excuse me?"

Death smiled. "My dear brother, Dream. I assume he is the cause of your mood?"

"How do you know...?"

"Oh, please, (Y/N). You should know by now...I know everything."

You shook your head. "I think that is unlikely, Teleute, even for you. You know, Burgess was looking for you when he captured us."

Death nodded, looking somewhat uncomfortable. "I know."

"I will not ask you why you did not help us. I think that is something I already know. I also understand why Burgess was able to capture Dream, but why me? What did I have to do with it? I'm not an Endless."

"It is nothing more than a theory, but I believe that is entirely my fault. When I saved your life, granted you immortality, I left a piece of my soul with you. That small piece of me lives within you, and I believe is what caused you to be snared by his spell."

You allowed yourself a moment to absorb her words. Her theory made sense, but it did not provide you much comfort. "100 years is a long time, even for an immortal," you began softly. "I cannot even begin to imagine how terrible it would have been to spend those years alone. While I would give anything for Dream to have never experienced such agony, I am glad to have been there with him."

Death laid her hand on yours. "I am sure he feels the same way."

You gave her a look that clearly voiced your disagreement. "If he felt the same way, do you think I would be moping on this park bench in the middle of London?"

Death chuckled. "My brother is moody at the best of times, and downright sullen at the worst. It may take him a moment or two to realize he cannot be that way with you, but I do think he will come to that realization. You are good for him, and I think, perhaps, he could be good for you." As if sensing something, Death stood suddenly. "I must go, (Y/N)."

You stood and gave her a hug. "Do not be a stranger, Teleute."

"Never," she said with a smile. "Do not give up on him. He is a pain in the behind, but his love is worth it. I promise." With that, Death disappeared as if she had never been there at all.

You sat back down on the bench, mulling over your friend's words. You desperately wanted to believe her, but if she was right, then where was Dream now?

As if you had personally summoned him, the dream lord himself appeared on the bench beside you, jolting you out of your thoughts. "Good lord!" you yelped.

He winced. "My apologies, I did not intend to startle you."

"Well then do not magically appear beside people without warning, Dream." You placed a hand over your heart and slowly calmed your breathing. "If I were a mortal, you could have given me a heart attack."

"Thankfully, you are not."

You turned to look at him and were surprised to find a sadness in his eyes. A sadness that mimicked your own. "How did you find me?"

He raised his eyebrows. "Do you truly think there is anywhere you could go where I would not feel you?"

Your lips parted in surprise and words failed you. "I--uh--well, I--"

He turned his body to face you, tentatively reaching out to take your hand in his. "I wish to know why you left."

"You were a bit preoccupied with more important things than me, Dream."

"Nothing is more important than you. Not me, nor my tools, nor even my realm. You are the part of me I have always sought, without even realizing it. You are the light to my darkness, the other half of my soul that I have yearned for throughout all of space and time. You are the hope that saved me in the darkest moments of my life, and for that I will treasure you always."

If you had a hard time speaking before, you were completely mute now, as if words were utterly foreign to you. You simply stared at the man in front of you in stunned silence. A silence so long, he began to worry.

"(Y/N)?" he asked softly. "Have I upset you?"

"Gods, no," you said quickly, recovering from your moment of muteness. You took both of his hands in yours and gave them a loving squeeze. "You simply took me by surprise, Dream."

"Will you call me by my name?" he asked softly, eyes filled with hope.

You looked confused. "Is Dream not your name?"

"It is, but much in the way you know Death as Teleute, I wish you to know me by my name."

"What name would that be?"

"Morpheus," he replied.

"I should have known that," you said with a chuckle. "Morpheus. Hmm, I quite like it."

He blushed slightly. "Thank you. I enjoy hearing you say it."

"Then I will have to remember to say it often," you paused dramatically before leaning forward and whispering, "Morpheus."

His body shuddered involuntarily and you grinned. He gave you a warning look, but you were much too happy to care.

"May I ask you something?" he asked suddenly.

"Of course."

"Is there any way, any world, any universe, in which you might feel the same?"

If Morpheus did not know you, you would worry he might think you were a bumbling idiot. You were once again stunned to silence by the dream lord's words...as if there was a universe in which you did not feel the same.

"First, stop saying things that render me speechless," you insisted. "Second, do you really need to ask? I would walk through Hellfire for you, Morpheus. There is not a battle I would not fight, nor a danger I would not face, if it meant protecting you. You are my heart, in every meaning of the word."

Now it was his turn to be speechless. Though he was much quicker to recover than you. "I am undeserving of such adoration, beloved, but I shall do everything in my power to earn it."

You smiled and gently touched his cheek. "You already have, my love. You already have."

#morpheus x reader #dream x reader #sandman x reader #dream of the endless x reader #the sandman #morpheus x reader fluff #fluff #angst #dream of the endless #morpheus

[littledollll]

Dream absolutely loves his chubby partner. He’ll be super clingy and always looking for excuses to touch and grope you all over. Super big on kissing your tummy and thighs and will definitely sleep with his arms over your belly and give you little squeezes whenever he holds you, if you allow him. Adores giving head and would die to have you on his lap 24/7.

#Dream of the endless #sandman dream #dream of the endless x reader #the sandman morpheus #morpheus x reader fluff #morpheus x reader #morpheus sandman #random littledollll

[fandoms-are-my-friends-1321]

An Ineffable Meeting

This is my first time writing for Dream of the Endless, but I thought it turned out okay. This takes place after season one’s events, and is a crossover between The Sandman and Good Omens. As always characters are not mine, and I hope you all enjoy it!

Description: Morpheus and Y/N, who happens to be Anthony J. Crowley’s sibling, have been dating for a while. Morpheus thinks it’s time for him to meet Crowley, but Y/N is all too aware of how their brother can be

Warnings: suggestive at the end, otherwise none (but if you catch something that I missed please let me know!)

Morpheus had witnessed countless beings and entities in both the Dreaming and the mortal realm. Some divine and others horrific, the many faces that the Lord of Dreams viewed seemed to blur after a century or two. However, he never expected that a demon would stand out the most to him.

After being ushered out of the Dreaming by Lucienne, Morpheus found himself seated on a park bench feeding the pigeons. Lucienne claimed that he had become overly stressed the past week, but Morpheus did not see the need for relaxation. A century of imprisonment created a void of pressing matters that could not possibly be ignored. Still, he found some enjoyment from the soot colored avians pecking away at his feet.

“You do know that pigeons prefer sourdough over a baguette, right?”

Morpheus looked to his left, annoyance etched on his face from being disturbed. His displeasure was replaced by curiosity as he took in the person before him. They appeared to be human, at least in the physical sense, but Morpheus was not naive. He could pick out a demon without a second glance, but for once in the several eons of his existence he did not feel the normal disgust that came with meeting members of Hell.

“Sorry, I didn't mean to startle you. I know these creatures on a very personal level, and they are incredibly picky about their bread.” The demon smiled at Morpheus as they pushed their aviator sunglasses up, the dark lenses preventing him from seeing their eyes. “The name’s Y/N, by the way.”

Morpheus observed the snake tattoo under Y/N’s right ear, the symbol oddly familiar to him, before rolling his eyes and focusing his attention on the birds once more. “It appears that they like this bread well enough.”

“You are rotten at introductions, Mr. Dark and Brooding.”

Morpheus was taken aback by the unexpected nickname. Did this demon who called themselves Y/N truly not comprehend that they were standing before one of the Endless? Y/N tilted their head as they smirked. “Do I know you from someplace? Where exactly have I seen you before?” They tapped their chin in contemplation before snapping their fingers triumphantly. “Twilight! That has to be it!”

“Perhaps you will recall my visit to Hell. Your sovereign, Lucifer Morningstar, called upon every demon to stand before me so I could find my stolen helm. You would have been among those numbers,” Morpheus stated coolly. “I am Morpheus, King of Dreams and ruler of the Nightmare Realm”

“Funny story that,” Y/N admitted with a nervous chuckle as they rubbed the back of their neck, “I may have skipped that call to go to a book signing. Hastur was pissed at me for weeks, but that uptight asshole got over it eventually. On the bright side, guess I can ditch these now, huh?” Y/N removed their sunglasses, and their serpentine eyes met the lighter ones of the dream lord. The realization hit Morpheus as he straightened his back against the bench. “You're a Crawley? The same to have infiltrated the Garden of Eden and tempt humanity. ”

“That was my brother, Anthony J. Crawley, but we go by Crowley now. We found it to be a better fit for us both.”

The chimes from the nearby clock tower located at the center of the park made Y/N jump. “Oh shit, I’m late! We will have to finish this conversation another time, Dream Lord.” The demon rushed off before Morpheus could even offer to take them where they wished to go.

***

That encounter had taken place half a year ago, and since then Morpheus and Y/N Crowley had formed a close bond. It had taken some time, for Morpheus was hesitant when it came to relationships. He was not new to partnerships, far from it in fact, but this relationship was not one that he wanted to lose. This was the reason that Morpheus had summoned Y/N to his throne room.

“Did you really miss me that much, darling,” Y/N quipped as they strutted across the marble floor that stretched in front of Morpheus’ throne. “You are lucky that I finished my demonic business this morning.”

Morpheus rose from his throne to meet the demon halfway, his coat floating gently with his movements. The corner of his lip raised slightly as he stood before Y/N. “Do you find gluing a penny to the sidewalk to be demonic work?”

“It’s the oldest trick in the book, and it has fooled many humans! There are countless times that-”

Morpheus silenced Y/N’s rant as he placed his lips against theirs. Y/N smiled through the kiss as they raised their hand to feel the soft ends of Morpheus’ dark hair. The two parted as Morpheus moved his hand to cradle Y/N’s cheek, his thumb caressing the skin there. His eyes glittered with adoration for his lover, but Y/N had learned every slight detail of his facial expressions. There was more to this look.

“Why are you acting so lovey dovey? I can tell by that look in your eyes that there has to be another reason for calling me here, Dream King.” Y/N’s eyebrows furrowed as they tried to deduce what Morpheus could possibly be up to, and the demon caught on to his plan. Y/N shook their head in disagreement as their slitted eyes averted to the floor. “No, no! Absolutely not! We can’t do this now, Morpheus.”

Y/N only ever used Morpheus’ name when they were serious, but he pursued the idea nonetheless. “If not now, then when? We cannot delay this any longer, my love. By now Crowley is more than aware of our relationship, and he will be expecting to meet the one who is with his sibling.”

Y/N could not meet the icy blue eyes that pleaded with them to give in. The demon always crumbled if they looked into his eyes. “I-I just don’t know how he will react. You are one of the Endless, the greatest beings on this or any plane of existence, and to bring someone so powerful around my brother…he may feel threatened.”

“Then I will reassure him that I am capable of loving you despite my reputation and my position. Please, Y/N, arrange a meeting with Crowley.”

Morpheus rested his forehead against Y/N’s, and he felt their shoulders relax. “Fine, but only if you are on your best behavior.”

Morpheus smiled, a rare occurrence that seemed to happen more frequently when he was with Y/N, and he placed a quick but sweet kiss on the end of the demon’s nose. “Only the best for you, my little serpent.”

***

Morpheus and Y/N walked arm in arm down the London street, which was surprisingly empty despite the warm rays of the sun shining down upon them. Y/N was wearing their classic aviators just in case a human happened to pass by, but even the dark lenses did not stop them from taking in Morpheus. How was it possible that this gorgeous being was with a low level demon like them? With that spiky hair that was soft to the touch and eyes that reflected the afternoon light, even the small wrinkles that formed around his eyes as a gentle grin rested on his face. He could be with anyone in existence. Yet, here he was, fully devoted to them and only them. Y/N squeezed Morpheus’ arm as they pressed closer to him, their own smile forming despite the nerves bubbling in their stomach. “We are almost there. Are you sure that you want to do this? We can turn back if you want.” Y/N tried to plant their feet in the ground and move back the way they came, but Morpheus held them close.

“Yes, I want to do this. There is nothing to fear, and everything will be well.” Morpheus intertwined his fingers with Y/N’s as they strolled the final length to their destination. The sign above the corner shop read, A.Z. Fell and Co., and the door was answered by a curly haired blonde before the couple even had the chance to knock.

“Oh Y/N, it is such a pleasure to see you again! It is also a pleasure to make your acquaintance Mr. Morpheus, or Lord Morpheus if you would prefer? Of course I can use any term that you would like…” The man who opened the door continued to ramble as he fiddled with his tie.

“Please,” Morpheus stated, “Morpheus will suffice, I assure you.”

“Brilliant! Oh, I do apologize for not introducing myself. My name is Aziraphale, and I own this little shop. Please, do come inside. Your brother is waiting in the parlor.” Aziraphale stepped aside to let the couple in before rushing off to the kitchen. Y/N escorted Morpheus through the thin path that weaved between stacks and shelves of books, many of which were covered in dust. The two entered the parlor, and Y/N braced themselves for what was to come next.

“Hello, brother dear! Hope you and Aziraphale left plenty of dessert for us. Your sweet tooth has stolen many delicious treats from me,” Y/N spoke as they hugged Crowley.

“Angel is the one with the sweet tooth, little Sis, not me. I did manage to save you some this time, though.” Crowley wrapped his arms around Y/N briefly before turning towards Morpheus. Crowley reluctantly offered his hand, a glare evident despite the sunglasses he wore. “Morpheus, I presume?”

Morpheus clasped the hand that was presented to him. “You are correct, Mr. Crowley.”

“Don’t call me, “Mr. Crowley”, it sounds like that bloody Ozzy Osbourne song. Crowley is fine.”

“As you wish, Crowley.”

Crowley moved back to his previous spot while Y/N and Morpheus sat on the couch opposite of the one he was on. Y/N removed their sunglasses and placed them on the table. “You can take yours off too, brother. I promise you that Morpheus is not one to judge.” Crowley took off his sunglasses with an audible groan, clearly wishing to keep them on. “That’s surprising considering he is one of the Endless.”

“Hold your tongue,” Morpheus growled. If looks could kill, Crowley would have been disincorporated instantly. Y/N began to fiddle with their hands, a clear sign that they were uncomfortable with the conflict, and upon noticing their movements, Morpheus moved his hand to encompass their own. “What I meant to say was that my siblings and myself have been portrayed as heartless beings who do not care for others. This is nothing but a rumor, and I have been looking forward to meeting you, Crowley.”

Y/N was put at ease by the new reply, but Crowley was still very tense. “I’ll go see where Azi is with those desserts,” Y/N mumbled quickly as they clamored into the kitchen. Surely, Aziraphale would be able to help their brother relax. In the meantime, this left Morpheus and Crowley alone in the parlor.

“Your sibling means a great deal to me. My life remained stagnant before they arrived, and now I could not see my future without them. The Dreaming prospers more than ever, and I believe it is due to them being by my side.” Morpheus meant every word he said, but Crowley wasn’t buying it.

“I’ve heard all this before. “ ‘Y/N is my world’ this, and ‘I would never hurt Y/N’ that. Well, they did hurt her. You will be the same.” Crowley sat with his arms crossed as Morpheus began to feel agitated.

“Why do you assume that I would dare to hurt Y/N? They have told me about the past and the lovers who have harmed them, and I am showing them the love they deserve and should have received long ago.”

“I assume these things because you are one of the Endless!” Crowley was standing now, his face matching the fiery color of his hair. “Beings like you take what they please and then throw it out just as quick! That will not happen to Y/N. Not on my watch.”

Morpheus pushed himself up and stepped towards Crowley. Even though the Dream Lord towered over Crowley, the demon did not budge. Y/N and Aziraphale entered with the desserts. “Look! Aziraphale ordered those mini pies that I adore,” Y/N said giddily. The chipper sound of their voice caused both Crowley and Morpheus to snap their heads towards them.

“Oh, I told Angel that you would enjoy having some of those,” Crowley replied with a shrug as he backed away from Morpheus. Aziraphale escorted Crowley to sit, his soft expression counter to the grimace that Crowley still wore. Morpheus was still standing as Y/N passed him a mini pie. “You must try this, my darling. These are absolutely to die for!”

Morpheus felt a wave of calm at the melodic sound of his lover’s voice, and he took the pastry with a smile. “Thank you, but I have no doubt that this human dessert does not compare to the sweetness you show me every waking hour.”

Y/N blushed as they scurried over to sit on the sofa again. Aziraphale could not contain his joy as he looked between Morpheus and Y/N. Crowley on the other hand was making no attempts to hide the rage he felt towards Morpheus, the unspoken actions of their broken up disagreement on the verge of exploding from him. Morpheus sent back a displeased glare of his own.

“Did I miss something?” Y/N asked.

“Other than Morpheus proving my point, no,” Crowley sneered as he reached for his own mini pie. Aziraphale swatted his hand, causing him to gape at his normally peaceful boyfriend. “What was that for?!”

“You know what it was for, Crowley,” Aziraphale commented sternly. “Morpheus is our guest, and it is obvious that Y/N is smitten with him, so please behave yourself, dear.”

The sip of champagne that Y/N had attempted to take almost ended up all over their brother sitting across from them. “Azi, you are too kind.”

Y/N shot a look at Crowley, catching him and Morpheus competing for dominance in a staring contest. That was the last straw. “Would you two knock it off! This is precisely why I didn’t want to bring Morpheus here in the first place!”

“How do you know you can trust him? I will not let you be hurt again, especially by an eternal being with a stick up his ass!”

“Morpheus, we are leaving.” Y/N angrily put on their sunglasses, hiding the tears of frustration that threatened to fall from their golden eyes. Crowley knew that he upset his sibling, and that familiar twinge of guilt took over. “Y/N, please, I didn’t mean it-,”

“Crowley, if I may,” Morpheus interjected. “I understand your apprehension about me. In the past I was unkind to many beings and closed myself off from the world, but I swear to you that is no longer who I am.” Morpheus grabbed Y/N’s hand, his eyes soft and welcoming. Y/N accepted and leaned into their lover. “My life is no longer filled with sorrow now that Y/N is with me. I do not wish to cause them more pain, but I will be the one to heal their broken soul.”

Y/N gave a short laugh. “I don’t have a soul, Morpheus, but I appreciate the kind words, love.” Morpheus feigned offense, but the way the corner of his lip curved upwards revealed how he truly felt. Crowley, after listening to the words of the Dream Lord, understood why their sibling fell for him in the first place. The red head let out a defeated sigh. “Fine, I may have jumped the gun a little here,” Crowley admitted. Aziraphale nudged Crowley in the ribs, urging the demon to keep up his apology. “And I am glad that you will be there for my sibling, Morpheus.”

Y/N smiled now that the tension evaporated, and both Crowley and Morpheus were equally happy to see them so pleased. The rest of the afternoon was filled with laughter and Crowley telling as many embarrassing stories about Y/N as he could. After the sun disappeared and the onyx sky spread over the earth, Y/N and Morpheus stepped out of the bookshop.

Aziraphale waved excitedly from the entryway, Crowley’s arm resting securely around his waist. “Please do visit again, you too! Next time I will cook a proper meal!”

“We will be back soon, Aziraphale! Love you, big brother!” Y/N called back as sand swooped around them and Morpheus.

“Love you too, Y/N, and don’t be too flirty with my sister, Morpheus, or I will come to the Dreaming and deal with you myself!” Crowley threatened with a smirk. The sand already engulfed the two beings before Morpheus could throw his own witty quip, but that did not stop him from telling it to Y/N as they stood before his throne. “Your brother is quite the character. He reminds me of Desire, but he is much more tolerable than them.”

“That tiff you had with Crowley says otherwise, and I am not sure if I have forgiven you entirely.” Y/N crossed their arms and turned their back to Morpheus, a playful smile unrevealed to Dream. Y/N was caught off guard when Morpheus scooped up the demon and moved to his throne. He sat down and placed Y/N onto his lap before layering a row of kisses up their neck. Morpheus stopped when he reached Y/N’s ear.

“Do not forget who rules this realm. Still, I do not wish for you to leave here upset.” Morpheus pulled back, his eyes darker and full of yearning. “Allow me to show you how genuinely sorry I am, my beautiful serpent.”

Tags: @pinksirensong , @literaturememesfordummies , @bryandechartisasmolbean , @unaviodabledirewolf , @igotanidea , @iloveangstposts , @chevvsgotanumbrellatattoo , @onyxblackwinchester , @malevolent73

#morpheus x reader #dream x reader #dream of the endless x reader #dream #morpheus #dream of the endless #sandman #the sandman #the sandman imagine #the sandman netflix #tom sturridge #morpheus imagine #sandman imagine #good omens #anthony j crowley #aziraphel #morpheus x reader fluff

[melancholypancakes]

We literally need a Hades & Persephone AU fanfic of Morpheus and Y/n

I cannot stress this enough, if anybody wrote a fanfic (that’s not “Dark! Morpheus” or “Yandere”) please link it to me :) 

For now, here is my little idea of it (nobody has to write like this but you can). 

Y/n is the daughter of M/n, a water Nymph who was the lover of Desire of the Endless and when Y/n was of age. 

She was helping her mother gather flowers, and herbs and planting seeds in the ground. 

Now, Y/n was half a nymph and half an endless, so her mother did her best to raise her and to at least show her how to control her powers. 

As Y/n was the daughter of Desire, she was beautiful but had Desires not of lust but of love and romance. 

Y/n truly loved her mother, despite never meeting her father. M/n....was overbearing, overprotective, manipulative, and psycho. 

Y/n would say, “Crazy” she knows her mother just didn’t want her to end up like she did or just like her father. 

In this one, Y/n falls for Morpheus as he falls for her, love at first sight and it was inspired by the many versions of Persephone and Hades. 

Where Persephone ventures into the underworld on her own and falls in love with Hades. 

Y/n is also into brooding gothic men (as we all are for Morpheus) 

{...}

Soon, Y/n wanders too close to the clouds, too close to the “other” realm. The dreaming. 

Y/n never had seen a more beautiful place than the dreaming, she wander through the mountains, village, and castle. 

Little did she know, someone was watching afar. The King of this realm was enchanted by her beauty, her smile, and her kindness when she was interacting with his creations. 

Morpheus had felt his face grow red and his beating cold heart filled with a familiar warmth he hadn’t felt in a very, very, very long time. 

This girl was lucid dreaming, he could sense it as he followed her more. he wanted to know why she was here and how she knew she was dreaming but he never got the chance as she was waking up. 

The more she lucid dreams, the more she noticed there was someone watching her, and when she caught him. 

She was intimidated by how handsome he was, she nearly giggled and blushed. 

“Who are you? why are you following me?” she asked as she tried not to show how nervous she was. 

“I am Morpheus, the King of the dreaming...I did not mean to startle you...I was only observing why you are here and aware of your dreams.” He explained. 

Oh, so he wasn’t a stalker and he is a king? 

This was another realm? 

These were questions in her mind, “Oh, I see My name is Y/n, Daughter of M/n it is an honor to meet you, Lord Morpheus” she says as she bows to show respect. 

“There is no need for that. You’re a guest and please...call me Dream.” He says as if it was the first time he has ever told anyone that. 

The Nymph smiled at him warmly, making his heart flutter as she blushed looking down at her feet. 

During her time in the dreaming, Morpheus showed Y/n around and she got to see how beautiful the dreaming realm truly was. 

She was amazed by Morpheus’s kingdom, “it’s so beautiful...” she whispered. Morpheus looked at her with glossy eyes and whisper back “Thank you...”

After Y/n woke up she couldn’t wait to go back to the dreaming realm and she was cheerier than usual which didn’t go unnoticed by her mother.

As days, weeks, and soon months passed, Her mother started to get suspicious this was more than getting a “goodnight sleep”. 

M/n found out what really made her daughter happier than usual...

It was spring, Y/n would hear someone calling her name and she look back just to see someone in the shadows. 

Y/n walked toward this person, and she saw a familiar person Morpheus...

His wild raven hair, a long black robe, a skin tone pale, skinny, and star eyes. 

She was wondering how could he be more beautiful, was she having a crush? 

She felt butterflies when she’s around him and blushes when he’s looking at her. 

Morpheus had felt the same, his heart would beat every time she was near, his cheek would be red when she smiles at him and when she talks he can’t help but smile. 

he was smitten by her just as she was with him. 

Morpheus really wanted to see the girl again, She wanted to see him too as she was falling hard for the King. 

Little did she know, her mother was watching. 

She was in utter shock to see her talking so casually to an endless but not just any Endless. 

Oneiros, Morpheus, Dream of the Endless, Lord of Dreams and Nightmares, and King of the Dreaming. 

She was furious, this entity was after her daughter, her innocent child and she couldn’t allow Y/n to be near someone so dangerous. 

“Y/n! Get over here! you stay away from my daughter!” She screamed as she ran to Y/n and forcefully snatch her daughter. 

“Mother?! what are you-” She tried to say but was cut off by her mother pushing herself and her daughter away from The Endless. 

Y/n tried to push away from her mother and reach her hand to Morpheus but they were too far away. 

Once out of reach, M/n examines her daughter, “Did he hurt you?” she says worriedly. 

“What?! no! Mother what is going on I was just talking to-” she tries to say but was cut off by her mother once again. 

“Talking to an Endless?! Y/n do you have any idea who you were talking to?! He could’ve killed you!” M/n exclaimed. 

Y/n was concerned about what her mother meant, Morpheus wouldn’t hurt her, if he truly could he would at the first chance he got. 

“He’s not like that mother! We were only talking! Besides, he’s really sweet.” Y/n says as she smiles. 

“Sweet?...”SWEET?!” Her mother screamed as she grew angrier, “THERE IS NO SUCH THING AS AN ENDLESS BEING “SWEET”! M/n screamed as Y/n could only stare in shock. 

“That’s it. You are to stay far away from Oneiros and never speak to him again! I mean it Y/n!” M/n said as she forbid her from ever seeing and talking to Morpheus again. 

“What! But Mother you can’t-” Y/n exclaimed in shock as her mother would forbid her from speaking to the Endless she had fallen for. 

“Oh, yes I can and I will and you know why? Because I am your mother and what I say goes!” she exclaims as Y/n looks at her sadly. 

her mother may have forbidden her from seeing Morpheus in the waking realm but in the Dreaming, she couldn’t. 

And like a rebellious young woman such as herself, she just did that.

One night Y/n went to sleep, she ventures out into the clouds again, walking through the Dreaming realm as she walked along the path to look for the King. 

When Y/n spots him, she was so happy and ran up to him as he notices her, and she jumps into his arms happily. 

Although Morpheus never showed it, he was very happy to see Y/n. “I’m so sorry for how my mother acted, she is usually sweet...I was worried I wouldn’t see you again!” She exclaims as she looks up at him. 

Morpheus felt warm by her words, as Y/n spend longer in the dreaming her physical body asleep. 

Y/n didn’t mind she wasn’t going to wake up as long as she was with Morpheus, but her mother was growing sick worried that her daughter may never wake up again. 

She knew Dream of the endless had something to do with this. 

In the Dreaming realm, Morpheus and Y/n were sitting in fiddler’s Green when he suddenly asked her. 

“Would you...like to live here?” 

She was shocked, to say the least, but smiled as she didn’t even know she could, “I would love to Dream!” she exclaims. 

Morpheus gave her a shy smile as he stood up and led his hand to her and she took it and stood up with him. 

Morpheus leads her to a tree with fruits in it, Peaches. 

Morpheus pick the fruit and gave it to her, “If you eat this, you will remain here with me for eternity...You will be my wife.” he said slowly making sure she truly wanted this. 

Y/n nodded, as she took the peach gently and ate half it.

So, M/n demanded Desire of the endless, her ex-lover and father of their child go rescue their daughter Y/n from the dreaming realm. 

Desire never truly cared about his lovers nor his children but if it got Morpheus upset.

It was worth it.

so, he agreed and went to the dreaming to get Y/n but she simply refused to say, “I actually love it here, It’s beautiful and Morpheus is really good to me! I’m actually pretty happy being his wife and him as my husband.” She exclaims happily. 

“You don’t want to go? Really?” Desire was genuinely shocked his own offspring wanted to spend time with their brother. 

Y/n was true, she loved Morpheus and wanted to be with him as his wife, she really loved him. 

So, Desire just gave up at that point. He could care less and he could kill her but he didn’t feel like doing that so he would come up with a different plan to ruin Morpheus. 

As for M/n, He could care less. Y/n was happy anyways and when M/n found out she was frustrated and angry so she decided to ruin everything for mankind and not help preserve the plants and flowers. 

It causes the plants to never grow again and the water would soon be dry. 

That was really bad for humanity and the gods got worried, so Hermes rushed to the dreaming realm to tell Morpheus and Y/n immediately. 

Morpheus and Y/n realized that was really bad. So, Y/n rushed back to the waking realm to snap her mom out of it. 

M/n was overbearing as usual and hadn’t seen her daughter in months, so Y/n made a deal with Death of the Endless to spend six months in the Dreaming realm and the other six months in the waking realm with her mother. 

Morpheus and M/n’s mother knew of this and were okay with it since this was a better solution and M/n wouldn’t be fighting over Y/n but still hated the Endless beings.  

During the first 6 months of the year, M/n would be depressed and not let the plants and flowers along with the water grow or purify. 

While Morpheus and Y/n were lovesick with each other and enjoying their married life and ruling the Dreaming together as the King and Queen. 

When the other half of the six months came around, M/n was overjoyed to be with her daughter again, the plants, and flowers grew and the water was pure once more. 

Y/n and M/n would plant flowers, plants and pick out flowers, and soon would swim in the lakes...

#the sandman #morpheus x reader #dream of the endless #morpheus #y/n #dream x reader #i am a simp #lord morpheus #morpheus x y/n #the sandman x reader #hades and persephone au #hades and persephone #Morpheus x reader au #morpheus x reader fluff #morpheus x fem!reader #Morpheus x Nymph! reader #fanfic idea #sandman fanfiction #the sandman fanfic idea #the sandman fanfic #lord morpheus x reader

[pingguins]

When Dreams Despair

||Ch. 1|| "Only you can see me,"

↳ Navigation | Series Masterlist | Next Chapter

Dream of the Endless x F!Reader

Word Count: 9.1K

Warnings: Cursing, drowning (kind of)

Notes: I'm backkk!! With the longest chapter of any fic I've written!! I worked hard on this y'all, I even made a schedule for it. I hope you guys like it, I would love to hear your thoughts!!

Summary:

After spending decades dreaming of the same man, who knew that a babysitting job would be the one thing she needed to end it?

However, a select few have gotten their dreams back, some even receiving them in the waking world. An air of mystery lingers around Y/N, and a recurring nightmare spanning decades might have just uncovered it.

"Have you got any information about the Burgesses? Fawney Rig?"

Johanna Constantine sat behind her desk, drinking tea while pondering over another email. Y/N called hours earlier, asking if she could visit. There had been something different about Y/N that night, acting more timid and getting stuck in her own mind more often than not. 

Over the phone, she simply asked Johanna if she would be open to having some tea and catching up. 

Y/N sat on a nearby couch, hoping to find some answers about Roderick Burgess by asking Johanna. She knew of her occupation, and wanted her consultation. 

"Y/N, I don't spend my time dwelling on stories about devils in basements. Roderick Burgess has been dead a long time; the rumours died with him," Johanna replied, not looking away from her laptop screen as she took a sip from her cup. 

Y/N sighed. "But his long life remains in question."

"I'm not denying that he was into occult shit; but the Burgesses are old news. Whatever magic Fawney Rig held went away a long time ago."

“You seem so sure. Have you ever paid them a visit?” 

Johanna’s eyes flicked towards Y/N’s, and she saw it again. The distant look in her eyes, constantly lost in thought since the moment she stepped foot into her home. She went back to her emails, deciding that if her friend needed help with anything, she would ask. Until then, she would be keeping an eye on her. 

“No,” she answered. “I have other things to do—it pays well to keep your focus on the important clients.” She smirked, hoping to start their usual playful banters.

Y/N paid her no mind, busying herself by turning to look at the window beside her, observing the passersby and stray animals that wandered the streets. 

* * *

The water rippled beneath her fingers, her reflection looking back at her as if it was a creature of its own. Her outstretched hand was mere inches away from it, the fog engulfing most of her surroundings. Other than herself, Y/N could not see anything else in the water, only the mist that danced in the air. 

Longing for a semblance of their lost monarch, the water accepted her. Her reflection reached out, tightly gripping her wrist, and pulled. The cold engulfed her body in a matter of seconds, millions of dreams and nightmares swimming around her as she sank lower and lower. 

The depths of something so inhuman, so inconceivably omniscient pained her, the pressure building around her body and inside of her lungs. She did not have enough time to take a deep breath before she was under the water, her chest burned, and her head felt heavy as the images she saw became too much.

And so she awoke, finding herself back inside of her bedroom unharmed. 

There was a harsh throbbing in her head, making her squint her eyes shut from the pain.

Years of being plagued by dreams you could not understand, that humanity was not meant to explore, would expectedly cause such headaches. 

It troubled her that as much she frequented that place in her sleep, there were still some places yet to be discovered. Places like those waters—desperate for something she could not give. She groaned, pressing her fingers to her temples to try and tame the still-building pressure. 

Nevertheless, she swung her legs off the bed. The shutters were left closed, keeping the light from entering the room. When one experiences such painful mornings, one tends to make adjustments around their sleeping quarters. 

Under her bed, her hand clasped the wooden frame, careful of the soft white fabric that wrapped around it. It was her canvas, stored under her bed in case of mornings like these.

Y/N found that the best way to soothe an overwhelmed imagination was to paint what she saw—to get the images out of her mind and create something which she can touch and feel.

She was an artist—a storyteller of profound dreams and visions she knew not the value of. 

Her easel and the rest of her materials were all set up, always ready in the corner of her room, waiting for her next tale. 

She had dreamt of many stories and considered them a significant part of her sleep, though in the waking world, Y/N looked at them as an art she’d yet to master, looking no further for meaning or purpose that surpasses those of the mortal realm. 

Whenever her dreams were brought and told to the many inhabitants of the waking world, she always relished in her decisions to remain truthful. She may not be the most honest person in the world, but her books and paintings accurately hold all the beauty and horrors that she witnessed in her sleep. 

However, not all of her dreams make it to the human world. 

There was one specific picture that she’d seen too many times to count. Canvas upon canvas were stacked and littered around her room just from the past month. The same dream over and over again, each one more vivid than the last.

She knew all the scenes well, her hand expertly guiding the brushes as she carefully worked on her latest piece. 

Y/N basked in the nostalgia of the painting, having seen the same picture since she was a child. It had been too tragic, she refused to bring it to life. 

This time, however, it called to her. 

The sorrowful image, mostly of browns and blacks, held only one pale figure in the middle, seemingly glowing in the darkness he laid in. Aside from the man, unconscious and naked on the floor, the painting was barren.

Only he brought life to the painting; even though his story was one she shied away from throughout the years, thinking it too heavy on the soul to even think about, let alone tell. What happened? What had gone so wrong?

Y/N desperately wanted to know, but uncovering his narrative would take effort; maybe if she kept  painting he would tell her. Maybe she’d hear him speak one night, if he even had a voice.

The story of Lord Morpheus, however, was not very different from hers. And it was not his story alone, but the tale of millions upon millions of dreamers. 

Had Y/N known that, she would have been enthralled, yet heartbroken that a being such as him could look so small and evanescent on her painting. 

The silence was interrupted by the shrill ringing of her phone, the high pitched tune  extinguishing the haze over her eyes. She answered the call, carelessly placing down the brush onto the palette.

She had been stuck in another one of her trances, spacing out when  utterly focused on her work. Though the painting was nowhere near finished, the painter had decided to turn her back to it, telling herself that it can wait.

"Hey, we're leaving in about 5 hours. You can come here any time before then. Amelia's excited to see you!"  

The voice of her long-time friend, Maurice, was heard through the phone. And Y/N shook her head, rubbing the back of her neck to wake herself up. 

"Got it! Tell little Amy I'll see her soon, be careful on your trip!" Y/N answered. A small, fond smile appeared on her face, voice sounding bubbly regardless of her drowsiness. 

Amelia never seemed to run out of creativity, always telling her about the adventures she embarked on in her dreams. Her mother, Maurice, was one of the people whom Y/N worked with at the Inn.

Maurice liked to tease Y/N, always saying that in the almost two decades they’ve known each other, Y/N didn’t look a day over 25. All the while Amelia aged Maurice as time passed by, having worked above and beyond to be a deserving mother to her young daughter. 

"Make sure to stay with her until she falls asleep. She said she gets better dreams when you're around. I swear she only gets a full eight hours when you're babysitting,"  Maurice chuckled before saying goodbye.

Maurice and her husband, Adam, were scheduled for a one-day business trip. And while Amelia surely loved her parents, she wouldn’t dare give up an opportunity to be with her favourite babysitter.

She was only seven, and having no siblings to play with, her time was usually spent burying herself in the variety of books that resided in their small library. The bookshelf in her room, though, sheltered most, if not all, of Y/N’s published story books. 

Y/N placed her phone down, sitting at the edge of her bed, before browsing through her sketchbook which had always been placed on the bedside table in case of urgent matters. Those matters being rough illustrations for when she did not have enough time to paint.

The ache in her head came creeping back as she flipped through the drawings she made in the past few days. Graphite and charcoal sullied the pages, creating the image of the same subject over and over again. 

These pictures were of the same man in her painting, who now was trapped inside of a glass sphere surrounded by a gold circle drawn onto the floor. There were runes, ones that only Johanna knew of. She referred to it as a binding circle, but the reasoning behind it was lost to Y/N. There was no fathoming why anyone would trap a man inside of such a cruel prison. 

In the 32 years she had lived, the dream never changed. No matter the variety that visited her as she slept, the circumstances  of the trapped man were substantially the same when his turn to visit her came. 

It seemed, in a way, that she was trapped with him. Cursed to watch and feel him in misery for all those years without one person coming to his aid. She was but a helpless observer, never being able to touch or speak with him.

The dreams were frantic now, though, and they pestered her to no end. Every night she could see him. Same place, same fire in his eyes that would put the biggest star to shame. No other dream dared to compete. 

How long has he been there? Was he still there? Did he even exist? 

Questions that have long been unanswered were now occupying her mind. Questions she tried to forget ever since they woke her in the late hours of the night, crying out to her father several times a week. 

He would soothe her back to bed, filling her mind with positive thoughts and reassuring her that no , that man would not come for her. He was a mere nightmare and nothing else.

There was a time when she wondered if the man was angry at her, furious that she would not set him free. She wanted to tell him that if it were up to her, he would have been out of there long, long ago.

Her five-year-old brain had not processed the dream well, and years after, she would continue to be haunted and disturbed by the dream’s air of resentment unmatched by anything she’d seen in the waking world. 

* * *

The time flew by fast, and soon enough, Y/N was sat by Amelia’s side, tucking her into bed an hour before her curfew. 

Determined to focus on taking care of Amelia, Y/N purposely distracted herself when the opportunity presented itself, letting her mind drift away from her recent dreams. It was not an impossible feat, though from time to time, she would find herself beginning to wander back to the thought of her unfinished painting, to which she turned her back and left all alone in the corner of her room.

Only to be reminded that she was at Maurice’s house by an energetic Amelia or a barking dog outside of the house. 

“Can you tell me a different story tonight? I’ve read all the ones I have.” Amelia pouted, her eyes pleading as she tried to convince Y/N. 

Y/N went along, making a face as if she was in deep thought. “Hmmm, I don’t know…thinking of stories on the spot is no joke, you know?” she teased, keeping her tone playful.

“Well…” Amelia dragged on, and her babysitter stayed silent, giving her time to think. “Tell me a dream. Your dream. The ones you have when you’re asleep.”

Y/N chuckled, caressing Amelia’s hair. “Why would you want to know about my dreams? If you go to bed now, you get to explore yours.”

“You said you wrote books about what you dream of. I reckon you have some unwritten ones.”

“Uhmm, I don’t know, Amelia. Maybe I don’t have any more dreams to tell,” she baited. 

Amelia whined, kicking her feet in protest. “But you always have dreams! They’re always so good! Especially when you turn them into stories!”

Y/N laughed at the little girl beside her, who was clearly determined to get a bedtime story. Who was she to deny her?

“You know, Amy, dreams are the stories. They’re the only place where you can truly experience the most fantastic fairy tales. A place where you can truly be free,” Y/N trailed off, but only for a moment. It was a lie, at least to her it was. But for Amelia, she could pretend, bend the truth for her peace of mind. 

After all, how do you tell a child that not all dreams are realms in which you can control? That sometimes, there are things you are only meant to observe, no matter how painful?

To Y/N, there was already enough of that in the waking world. Amelia did not need to know that dreams could be just as terrible.

“I don’t need to turn them into stories, Amy. They already are, and when I feel that the world deserves to know of such wonderful places and inspiring creatures, I write them. To help people like you, who may need a reminder that dreaming is free, and that all you need to do is get a full night’s rest.” She smiled, winking at Amelia. 

It was Y/N’s way of getting her to go to bed early, and for a while, it worked. 

When Encephalitis Lethargica befell the world, not all could dream. And not all could get out of dreams, either. However, as Y/N brought the adventures she saw in her sleep to the waking world, dreamers became just a little bit more hopeful, and a little bit more rested.

This time, though, Y/N had no story to tell, as all her dreams had been the same. She was a vessel, a writer who retold the stories she saw in the dead of night. The years she spent being an author had certainly made her a master at conjuring up tales in an instant if she wished, but when her mind was clouded with the same images and the familiar feeling of anguish from seeing the trapped man every night, it was not so easy to think of happy tales that Amelia deserved. 

The little girl was hoping for another adventure-filled fantasy. One that would act as a send-off before she walked the realm of dreams. 

The efforts Y/N made at trying to form the perfect story for her had become futile. Only one dream, one story stayed in her mind. Scenarios of what could have happened to the man, stuck in a cage he had filled with endless indignation, were at the forefront of her mind: images of him getting hurt and beaten just to get him inside of the sphere.

But perhaps it did not need to be that way.

“I…guess I do have a story for you,” Y/N said reluctantly. It was a stretch, but in the end, all stories, no matter how sad, could be adjusted to fit a happier narrative. 

There was only one who had the power to command dreams and stories to venture on a different path. But on that night, for one little girl, Y/N would dare change the story of one such as the Dream Lord himself. 

Routinely, she took the small vial of sand placed on Amelia’s nightstand,  stationed there for the days Y/N would stay over to babysit. The little girl beamed, her wish coming true before her eyes as Y/N sat up from the bed and poured the white grains on the table.

She kneeled in front of it as Amelia moved to lay on her side, watching intently. 

With the sand, Y/N drew, her story coming to life in mere seconds. The small grains of white followed her fingers ever so slightly, seeming to follow every movement of her hand to create any image she wished to show. 

In that moment, in the darkness of Amelia’s bedroom, the faintest hint of light radiated from the sand like the moon covered by clouds. Barely there, only seen when one looks for it.

“Somewhere dark, somewhere hidden, there is a man.” On the nightstand was the image of a figure, enclosed within a sphere. “His eyes hold the universe, his skin as white as paper, his hair like the feathers of ravens.”

She drew a circle, encasing the sphere inside as she drew the runes she could remember. “And he’s trapped. No one knows how long, and no one knows how much longer.”

Now, there was an image of a raven, flying while its beak touched the glass sphere. “His raven had gone a long time ago, a victim of the man’s captors, leaving him truly alone.”

Amelia’s face showed a deep frown as her young brain comprehended the tale. 

“He never speaks, never asks for help. But he lets you see, he lets you observe his pain as if even he thinks he deserves to be caged as one would a rabid animal.”

With precision, she added more detail to the image, using one of her better drawings back home as inspiration. “He’s known not the kindness of humans, not for a long time, but perhaps, one act of true humanity might give him all he needs to be free.”

In one swoop, Y/N cleared the drawings with her hand, turning them back into messy piles of sand before putting them back in the vial. She pushed the sand off the corner of the table, effortlessly catching them with the glass container and closing it with its cork-made seal.

“One act of true humanity,” she booped Amelia’s nose, snapping her out of her trance. “That’s where you come in.”

Interested, Amelia sat up as Y/N went back to her place next to the little girl. The painter pushed back some of the girl’s red locks behind her ear before continuing. “He appears in dreams. He only shows himself to me, and now to you through my story. It’s our duty to dream of his freedom.”

“If I dream, will you make it come true? Will he be freed?” Amelia asked, eyes pleading for a positive answer. 

The worry that showed on the girl’s face was vehement, her empathy swam within the confines of her room.

Though all dreams could be felt by the Dreaming, there was something about children that fueled the realm of stories. There is an intrinsic ability for a child to dream, unafraid and untainted by the horrors one would face in a world such as theirs.

“Promise,” Y/N whispered, leaning down to kiss Amelia’s hair before tucking her back into bed. “Sweet dreams, Amelia.”

She stood, walking to leave the room, the little girl’s gaze following her. Y/N held the doorknob and spoke just before she closed the door. “And remember, you don’t need to be asleep to dream.”

In the guest bedroom, Y/N stood by the window, observing the quiet street and the clear skies. There were no traces of pollution, only stars that twinkle light years away. It looked serene, and she’d hoped that maybe somewhere out there, maybe in another universe where dreams really do come true, the man would roam free. 

The man that held the cosmos in his eyes. The man who had started as her nightmare, and whom she had come to understand and sympathize with. 

Y/N wondered if Amelia could do it—change her dream. It had been a long-standing one; the only place she had no control over while she slept.

The air was calm, much like how it felt whenever she was in the middle of writing or painting one of her dreams. Dreams that, if only she knew, were more palpable than she nor her father ever thought.

Remembering her dad, she dialed his number, waiting to hear his voice on the other side.

“Hey! Everything okay? How’s Amelia?”

Y/N smiled, eyes trained to the stars and the moon outside her window. “Hey dad. We’re good, she’s asleep.”

She spoke softly, not wanting Amelia to be distured in case she could hear them. Y/N loved her father dearly, and he would certainly be over the moon to know that perhaps she could finally get a good night's rest—one that did not require his comfort. 

“What story did you tell her this time? She usually gushes about them when she visits the inn.”

“I, uhm, I told her about the… that dream.” She waited, but no response came. The dream was a topic to avoid, Y/N knew how much her father would chastise himself for not being able to make the nightmares go away, especially in the days when she was much younger.

There was no sound, only silence. One that Y/N took the first step in breaking. “I toned it down, obviously. I thought that maybe if I…made it a little more hopeful, maybe it could change.”

“Right,” there was a pause, concern dripping from his voice. “how do you feel?”

“I think—I think I’m going to have good dreams tonight.”

“That’s good!”  he responded, the volume surprising even himself. “That’s great. I’m proud of you.”

Night after night his daughter would wake, crying about a man in her dreams. He was a good fighter, vowing to protect Y/N all throughout her life from any danger that dared to go near. He could give her knowledge impossible to acquire in her generation, and wisdom from years before the birth of their oldest friends—most of them, at least.

Of all he could protect her from, Y/N’s worst nightmare had to be exactly that—a nightmare. One that never seemed to fade away, one that haunted them   for years. 

Her because of the sheer weight of what could be seen during her slumber, and him because in his lifetime, there had never been such an unreachable feat. 

He couldn’t walk her dreams, he could only hope to alleviate the sorrow that came after. 

And for a man like him, for one who had steered clear of Death herself, no wound or hunger could feel as painful as the ache in his chest when he could not chase away the man that plagued her daughter’s sleeping mind. 

“Yeah, it is. I just wanted to let you know.”

“Thank you for letting me know, my little daydream. Sleep well.”

“Sweet dreams, dad.”

As a child, after she wrote down each and every one of her nightly adventures, her father claimed that her dreams never seemed to stay put in her unconscious mind, but rather, spilled into her creations during her waking hours.

“My little daydream”  he would call her. 

After she dozed off in the guest room, the next thing she could remember was the feel of soft, powder-like material under her feet. The sound of the ocean reached her ears in a melody of waves, alternating as they touched the sand before going back into the water. 

She welcomed the smell of salt and the breeze that graced her skin, the wind moving in time with the ocean. Y/N felt herself relax, finding that her mind was quiet here, as opposed to the burden she would carry in the waking world.

The beach, the sun, the sand—they were all hers. Her territory in the realm of the sleeping. Though she was none the wiser, all aspects of the Dreaming would bow to her in a heartbeat if she wished, following her orders to the best of their abilities as they would their missing monarch. 

“Y/N!” The voice of Amelia shouted, running towards her, leaving her footprints on the soft sand. She hugged Y/N tightly, wrapping her small arms around her waist before looking up at her eyes. “Are you here to save the caged man? The one with stars in his eyes?”

The breeze stopped, their hair no longer blowing in the wind. The sound of waves could no longer be heard. 

Everything stopped, no grain of sand gave the slightest bit of movement. Only she and Amelia existed in this plane, their surroundings a mere image of the life that once fueled the beach. 

Y/N donned a black coat that reached her ankles, her feet clad in a pair of Doc Martens. She wore a black shirt and a black pair of jeans instead of the pajamas she slept in. To her, there was no meaning behind her clothing and why she wore them in her dreams.

However, as Amelia mentioned the Dreaming’s absent King, the realm seemed to have recognized what Y/N’s purpose could be that night. The land had stopped to listen, straying from their function to hear word of the man who could very well be their master. 

The change in the atmosphere was stark, heavy on Y/N’s heart. She only had a moment to herself, thinking that maybe she could roam aimlessly without bearing the weight of that man’s anguish. 

She was no longer trapped with him, but perhaps, she must fulfill her promise to Amelia. 

She cleared her throat, glancing at their surroundings before stroking Amelia’s hair. The world began to move once again; the waves were loud, the sand moved by the wind, and Y/N’s coat billowed from the breeze.

“Yes, I am. But I’m afraid I don’t know how to do that—” 

The waves reached their feet now, and from the corner of her eye, as she looked down at Amelia, she saw the water glow. 

It shimmered when it covered her feet, electric and familiar, but remained a normal shade of blue when it hit Amelia’s.

“—but I think I might have just figured it out,” she spoke slowly, her eyes glazing over as she looked at the distant shoreline. It wasn’t the endlessness of it that caught her eye, rather, the blue vortex several feet away from them.

Amelia followed her gaze, seeing the same bright light. She beamed, looking excitedly up at Y/N. “What are you waiting for, then? I think that’s for you!”

Other than an unwavering smile, she offered Amelia nothing else before running off towards the portal, the sand glowing a bright blue every step she took.

Without so much as a second thought, she jumped, feeling herself get carried away by the vacuum before violently landing on  black sand. 

It was harsh, unlike the smooth, white sand on the beach. Here there was no water, no sound but the rush of stale air. The ground was coarse, small stones and pebbles pricked her skin as she tumbled. 

Behind her was a gate—the entrance to the Heart of the Dreaming. 

She felt no surprise, finding herself in a place she had been to many times before. She walked towards it, touching the grand structure gently before the Gates of Horn and Ivory opened to welcome her in, revealing the ruins of the palace.

It was a sorrowful sight. The castle broken and abandoned by most of its inhabitants. To her, however, the scenery looked the same as the first time she saw it.

She still wondered, though, about what the kingdom used to look like with its walls intact and cared for. Was the land bustling with life? Did they celebrate their own holidays? 

Or was it tranquil? A calm paradise in which everyone basked in their people’s company with no need to gather?

The kingdom had long passed its golden years, but how could something devoid of life seem so…out of place? As if it couldn’t be anything other than alive . 

Without the presence of their King who functioned as the heart and soul, the Dreaming could not be called a kingdom, but only a spectre that lingered in the space between realms. 

It was barren, and had been for more than a century, but the ghostly structures—to her— felt unnatural. As if, instead of the ruins of a once thriving paradise, it was dying . There was a missing piece, an absent force that drained the realm of its life.

She kneeled, grasping a handful of sand that glowed with her touch. She opened her palm, blowing on the sand as it flew toward the palace, swirling around the broken walls and pillars, repairing the cracks and missing pieces. 

There was no bringing back its prior beauty, however, she will do what she can, aiding the land while it still stands. 

There was no telling how long it would last without Y/N before it turned into dust, turning into a vast desert where the grieving dreams and nightmares may wander, wishing for their King to give them back their home.

The black grains delicately fell back down onto the floor, barely doing enough for the castle. Only a small measure had been mended, but it would do.

It was as much as she could do no matter how many attempts. Whether she rebuilt it by hand or by sand, it would never go back to its former glory. It refused .

And though it denied her help, the Dreaming was, in essence, kept alive by the thin thread that had attached itself to Y/N when she was born, her care and love for it keeping its foundation intact no matter how battered it may seem.

Since her first visits, Y/N endeavoured to heal the land in hopes that some of its inhabitants might return to help. There was Cain, Abel, and Gregory, but they had insisted there was nothing to do for their home, yet keeping all other details hidden as per Lucienne’s request.

Contented with her work, knowing she had done all she can, Y/N entered the palace. Even in its broken stature, there was a memory of brilliance and power that lingered in the air, one that greeted her its fleeting welcome as she walked the halls. 

She had explored all there is that surrounded the palace, though Y/N rarely ever stepped inside. And whenever she did, she would not stay very long. It was clear to her that the realm embraced her presence with open arms, but she did not feel comfortable roaming around inside. 

She felt at home there, yet a part of her could sense that she was crossing into someone else’s territory—one that showed no malice, but deserved deep respect. 

The inert landscape was a tragic sight. But within the palace walls was a kind of suffering she could not describe. It yearned for something, longed to thrive like it once had, but unable to do so with its throne lying empty, the broken seat of an absent ruler sat atop a regal set of stairs. The presence of Merv and Lucienne, though, told her that their history was not as simple as a runaway monarch.

It had been years since she went back inside,  the last time being when she was still a teenager. She neared the throne, daring to get halfway up the stairs before she heard familiar footsteps.

Y/N grinned widely and eagerly turned around, rushing down the stairs as she engulfed Lucienne in a tight embrace. 

The librarian tensed, stunned in place as she calmly held Y/N’s arms and gently pushed her away. “Uhm, pardon my ignorance, but I don’t believe I’ve seen you around before. Are you lost, perhaps?”

“Oh, uh,” Y/N stepped back, awkwardly shifting her feet, but her smile was as wide as ever. “I guess my father was lying when he told me I barely aged. Did I really? To the point of unrecognition?” she chuckled, hoping to refresh Lucienne’s memory.

The librarian studied her carefully, taking in her appearance and the uncanny similarities towards the Dream Lord. Finally, it dawned on her.

“Miss Y/N!” She held Y/N’s shoulders, stroking her hair with one hand. “Oh how you’ve grown!” She awed, this time, opening her arms to embrace Y/N. “Your father is no liar. I have not seen you in the Dreaming for so long, your visit was merely unexpected.”

Y/N’s shoulders tensed, Lucienne pulled back with a confused expression. “Is there something wrong, miss?”

She beamed widely at the librarian. “The Dreaming. Is that what this place is called, Lucienne?”

Hesitancy lingered in the air, silence invaded the palace as Lucienne contemplated her next words. In the years Y/N has visited the Dreaming, she took it upon herself to keep quiet about their affairs and the tragedy that befell the once prosperous realm. 

The last that Lucienne knew of Y/N, she was blissfully unaware of the depth of their troubles. Lucienne had caught her trying to repair the palace walls by hand, finding materials around the Kingdom or borrowing from Cain and Abel to do so.

Gregory had been with her, and they were flying around to the tops of the castle in a misguided effort to rebuild. 

Lucienne did not have the heart to stop them, only informing her that they had done what they could, but the Kingdom remained broken. No other information was disclosed, most questions were redirected or dismissed.

Nonetheless, they remained friends. The librarian adored her love for their realm, having not seen any other creature care for it besides a select few. At the time, Lucienne took her for a lost dreamer, finding their way to the Heart of the Dreaming because there was no one left to keep them away.

They were familiar with lucid dreamers, some better than others; she assumed that the young Y/N might have been one of the better ones.

Her visits started when she was only 12 years old, and she frequented the realm on most nights. Lucienne read all she can, attempting to decipher their mysterious guest. However, when more and more of the library vanished, she laid her investigation to rest.

In some respects, those who stayed in the Dreaming saw the curious little girl grow up. 

She rarely visited the palace, where Lucienne spent most of her time, so they have not bonded the way Y/N and the others have. Moreover, that did not take away from their friendship.

The librarian liked to monitor her, though, for any other strange happenings. And in the process, she had started to care for her the way she does for the rest of the realm. Y/N had become more of an honoured visitor than an uninvited guest.

“Yes, miss. You are in the Heart of the Dreaming,” Lucienne answered, abstaining from revealing any and all other details. 

No malice could be felt when around Y/N, she has crossed the gates many times on her own and has acted with good intentions—there was no doubting her kind spirit.

Nevertheless, as a loyal subject of Morpheus, she was unsure of how to go about telling a mere human about the existence of the Dreaming. There was no confirming that Y/N knew about their realm’s true nature, for all she knew Y/N thought this was all a strange dream regardless of the recurrence. 

“That’s…nice,” Y/N replied, her smile turning mellow. “My second home finally has a name.” 

Lucienne was touched. Most of the Dreaming’s inhabitants are long gone, losing their trust in their missing monarch. But no matter how broken, how unfixable their Kingdom was, someone had managed to find a home in it. 

However, there was no denying that she did not belong there, and no one knew of any consequences that might occur due to her visits. 

“With all due respect, you belong to the waking world, miss Y/N. This is merely another destination you venture to in your sleep,” Lucienne said, empathetic as ever. She did not want to deter her from coming to the Dreaming. 

Y/N walked towards the bottom of the steps, taking in the newly-named palace. “I am dreaming, Lucienne,” she spoke, elegantly waking up the stairs.

Lucienne was frozen in place, watching as the girl walked up towards their King’s throne. It wasn’t her actions that baffled her, it was the semblance of power. Something seemed to have shifted in their realm every step she took, as if there was a low rumbling coming from deep inside the palace.

“My mind conjured this up a long time ago, and it is not willing to let it go so easily,” Y/N continued. “This is my realm. I belong here.” 

Her voice grew more confident as she neared the broken throne. “They say that names are powerful—and I do believe they are. The Dreaming has become my refuge, and I hold you all dear to my heart.”

She arrived at the top, gently touching the throne. Light emitted from beneath her fingers, black smoke radiating from them as Lucienne let out a quiet gasp.

Y/N looked at the librarian, “I have tried to fix this place long ago, and now I think I finally can. For now, at least.” She looked around the room, broken pieces of the palace rising from the ground, going back into their rightful place.

The cracks and rubble from the bottom of the throne healed, becoming an almost-perfect image of its former self. 

“This is impossible,” Lucienne whispered, overcome with gladness and fear at seeing her home be restored by such a display of power that she had not seen in over a century. The palace shook, but she kept in place, stunned in silence. 

When the rehabilitation of the palace halted, Lucienne looked up at the girl in her master's clothing.

The throne room could not be revived to its former glory. However, all that was left were cracks and chipped pieces on the walls. It resembled a restored renaissance painting—alive, but never as beautiful as the days it spent with its creator.

Unfortunately, the sight did not last. It took only a few moments before the colour drained from the walls, the structures crumbling once again, but thankfully, not to the state Y/N found it in.

Y/N’s stature could not help but falter, discouraged that her efforts remained futile despite the power she could feel flowing within her veins. 

Lucienne, however, staggered. She cleared her throat, straightening her posture while clasping her hands formally. “I mean no disrespect, ma’am,” she  hesitated for a moment. “But what are you? ”.

She almost seemed afraid, and Y/N took notice, going back down the stairs as she stood in front of Lucienne. “I-I am human, and this is my dream—” she chuckled nervously. “There’s no need to worry—” 

“The Dreaming is not your realm, ma’am. It is not yours to take,” Lucienne defended, her voice apprehensive but nevertheless defiant. “I mean no offence, but you do not belong here . I think it is best you go back—”

“No,” Y/N interjected. Lucienne’s words sparked a memory—her duty and purpose in the Dreaming coming back to her. “I need you to take me to the water. I don’t recall how I arrived there the first time, but I—”

“My apologies, ma’am, but it is not my place to show you where it is located.” Lucienne stood her ground, her voice wavering ever so slightly regardless of her efforts to stay professional.

“I have good reason to be there. You can trust me, Lucienne. I would never do this place any harm,” Y/N spoke, bringing down her voice to a softer tone.

Lucienne kept silent, and Y/N’s heart broke. “Ma’am, I do not take you for a liar, which could only mean that you do not know of the power you possess. No matter your purpose here, this realm cannot take any more damage in the instance that you might harm it unintentionally.”

Y/N swallowed, unable to hide her sorrow as the woman she once knew to care for her, now looked at her in fear. But she could not deny that she understood Lucienne’s apprehension. What she could do in the Dreaming was natural to her, she was sure of the fact that she could never bring any harm to it.

If she could not see that, Y/N did not have the time to convince her. 

The man was waiting, and he had been for long enough. 

“I’m sorry,” she whispered, sand swirling around her figure, growing thicker until Lucienne could no longer see her.

In her mind she focused on the water, not having a single recollection of how she wound up being pulled into a sea of different worlds. Regardless, she remembered how it felt, and she held onto it, letting it take over her body before she was violently tossed onto the wooden floor of a foggy pier. 

Y/N was thrown across the wooden planks, covering her head with her arms as she stumbled, stopping right at the edge where she could see herself in the water. She kneeled on the wood floor, staring into the white, beady eyes of her reflection. 

If she hadn’t been so entranced by it, she would have found it familiar.

She held her hand out, carefully reaching for the water, but pulled back right as she was about to make contact. 

Instead, she dove in.

The water splashed around her as her body was engulfed by it, and she continued to go farther down.

Shadows and scenes of hell and paradise and domesticity swam around her, and she flailed the deeper she got, having regretted her decision to enter the treacherous water. Unfortunately, before she could try swimming up, something had caught hold of her foot, dragging her further down the deep blue. 

Y/N screamed, air bubbles rapidly flowing out of her mouth as she aggressively kicked her foot, trying to loosen the hold of her captor. When she looked beneath her, there was nothing. The space where she could feel the pressure on her ankle lay empty.

Her hands stopped flailing, and her feet stopped kicking, feeling her lungs a second away from being filled with water.

Then, she was on a yacht. Clean and luxurious. Mountain tops could be seen in the distance; her clothes were dry and her breathing as light as ever. The familiar scent of the ocean reached her nostrils, and she breathed in, taking in lungfuls of the fresh air. 

Her black coat billowed in the wind and she looked around. Other than the yacht she stood on, nothing could be seen for miles besides the silhouettes of mountains and the clouds that floated above her. She could hear seagulls, some landing beside her feet, and some placing themselves on the metal railing in front of her. 

She clasped the handrail, looking down at the ocean. The waves obstructed the mirrored images of herself and the yacht, however, she recognized those same white eyes that gazed back at her. 

In spite of the clear skies and the sun that burnt her skin, the water had no shimmer on its surface. No light bounced off of the ocean, and it remained as dark as she saw it on the fog-covered pier. 

There was a depth to it, an endless dark blue inhabited by strange movement and worlds that seemed to pass by. 

Her eyes squinted, noticing the circular shape surrounding her reflection. Everything moved slower, her coat floated as if she were in space instead of the quick flutter from the breeze. There were no seagulls in the reflection, but rather ravens accompanied her second self. 

Then, just as she saw the familiar shape of the trapped man behind her reflection, she jumped in once again, pushing herself upwards as she held the steel bars tightly, swinging her legs over them and landing into the water once more. 

The pressure in her ears was instant, and her body felt ice-cold—but only for a second. 

When she landed on the other side, the air no longer smelled fresh, but stale and musty, old and worn. Her lungs felt heavy instead of refreshed. 

Her clothes were still as dry as ever, but they no longer moved. There was no wind, barely any ventilation.

Y/N stood on the battered cement floor worn by time. Tall pillars held up the room and wooden arches supported the ceiling, but all were void of life. The colours they once held were now faded, barely visible in the darkness. 

There was a door, next to it a man was sat on a chair with his eyes to the floor, glazed over in thought. 

He was daydreaming, and it provided a dangerous path for Y/N to embark. She paid him no mind, as her presence was fairly obvious, and yet he failed to notice the stranger standing mere feet away from him. 

Y/N knew where she had arrived, her gaze landing on the attenuated gold circle on the floor. Slowly, she looked upwards.

The man inside the sphere with his back turned to her, sitting motionless with his head bowed down. His alabaster skin glowed with the singular light placed above him, illuminating him as if he were a museum piece, bare and presented for everyone to see. 

For a long time, this man haunted her dreams. Years of countless nights she was awoken by her own screams, the burden of sharing a fraction of his torment scarring and embedding itself into her childhood years.

But as she approached the glass sphere, silent tears fell from her eyes, weeping for the man who had been trapped here for far longer than she could imagine

There was an inkling of doubt that yearned to be acknowledged, crying for denial, telling her it was all a dream, and that when she wakes, it will all be a figment of her imagination, a memory from a place fantastical and unreal. 

However, as she mourned his lost freedom, the doubt could not rise. 

Her foot stepped beyond the circle, uncaring about its importance—after all, what good purpose could it have if it was created by his captors? She reached forward until her palm was only a few inches away from the glass.

The man turned to Y/N when her hand touched his enclosure, expression cold and shoulders broadening in an attempt to show power. Even now, with him as helpless as one can be, he commanded the room with only his eyes.

Upon seeing her tears, he turned his body to face her, eyebrows furrowing ever so slightly at the sight. He had not known empathy in a long time, decidedly untrusting of it after Jessamy’s passing.

What Y/N could not see in that moment, were the eyes that Lord Morpheus himself was gazing into. 

A pair of dark orbs, the cosmos within them as they shed tears—as if the galaxies beyond her eyes were weeping for him. The clothes she wore did not go unnoticed by the Dream Lord, nor the small but significant smudges her shoes had inflicted upon the circle that bound him.

Knowing he could not lose any more than he has, his palm touched hers from the inside of the sphere, their hands a few inches from one another. His expression remained stoic, but his fingers gave the slightest twitch.

Deep within Y/N’s soul, she knew she had found what the palace was searching for. And she had discovered what the man had been missing in the years he spent inside of the darkness.

They both turned their heads toward the door when another guard entered, their hands still barely touching. 

Y/N remained looking at the guard, observing to see if they would notice her. Morpheus tore his eyes away from the door, jaw clenching and the hand that stretched to be near Y/N’s tensing, fingers almost clawing at the glass.

When Y/N turned back to him, she smiled delicately. 

“Only you can see me,” she mouthed.

The newly arrived guard turned to their coworker, shaking his shoulder. “Spacing out again? Enough of that. It’s my turn to get a bloody rest,” they said, crossing their arms as they went to their seat.

When the resting guard awoke from his daydream, he sat up straighter, clearing his throat as he tried to get ahold of his surroundings. 

Meanwhile, Morpheus briskly placed his other hand next to the one on the glass, tilting his head downwards, his eyes sharper than ever . 

Y/N placed her other hand on the glass, growing anxious as she saw them begin to fade.

The daydream has ended, and so has hers. She was no longer tethered, and he was no longer undiscovered. 

Y/N sat up, feeling the bed below her as she clutched her blanket. She was in no distress, and there was no perplexing want to paint. There was no headache present. A heavy heart took their place, and now, much like the Dreaming, she felt herself wanting to call for something missing. 

And somehow, that feeling was much worse than the pain she used to wake up to. 

In the darkness of the guest room, swirling black smoke emanated from her eyes. And as she brought up a hand to rub the sleep away from them, she felt a sprinkle of sand on her fingers then onto the blanket that covered her legs. 

The glow in her eyes vanished, as did the smoke. But the sand remained, and while she took them between her fingers…

The Dream Lord had been busying himself with putting a certain man to sleep. 

***

“I think they’re true—the rumours.”

Johanna looked up from her laptop for the first time since she sat down, furrowing her eyebrows at Y/N’s bold statement. “Since when were you into this? You never liked meddling with anything that came close to my job.”

Y/N held her cup in both of her hands, one leg resting on the couch as she looked at the window pane. There they were again—her eyes that shone brighter than the stars in the night sky. They weren’t as vast, nor were they as celestial as the man’s, but they were surely noticeable.

And Johanna was not one to miss such a detail. Her friend’s image in the window pane blended almost completely with the buildings and the lights outside, but her eyes reflected back two white orbs that could almost be mistaken as distant suns. 

“Have you heard of the Sandman?” Y/N turned to look at Johanna, who tore her gaze away from the reflection and to her friends’ eyes. She closed her laptop as she sat up straighter.

“He’s a fairytale,” she shrugged it off, albeit her voice was just barely above a whisper. “With all the dreams you’ve had, you might as well be him,” she chuckled apprehensively. Something had changed in Y/N, but being the busy woman that she is, she overlooked it until she had seen the window that reflected her friend. “Are you alright?”

Johanna had never been very good at caring, jumping from one relationship to the next without so much as a goodbye. But Y/N had been a long-term friend, never expecting anything out of her other than a bit of her time.

Though she would not admit it, her first meeting with Y/N had intrigued her. She originally engaged in conversation due to her suspicion that she might not be human. Maybe a demon? An angel?

And when she learned about Y/N’s father, her interest grew. Her investigations proved to be futile, learning that her friend was no more than any other mortal that walked the Earth.

But perhaps she was wrong. 

“I am,” Y/N answered. “I’ve actually been feeling much better since last night.”

Johanna cleared her throat, finding the haze in her friends’ eyes strange and a tad uncomfortable. “Did Amelia ask you to tell her another one of your bedtime stories?”

Y/N nodded gently, “Yeah, she did. It was a bit different this time, though.”

“Yeah?”

“I told her about the man. The one in the glass sphere?”

Johanna leaned back into her chair, not knowing what to say. She had known about the recurring dreams, but when she asked, Y/N had dismissed it, saying that it was nothing more than her imagination. A part of her wished she had not settled for such a simple answer.

“Isn’t that a little…scary? For a seven-year-old?” 

“I changed it.”

Something in the air shifted, and Johanna felt it. Her job was to know when something otherworldly was afoot, after all.

There was more to Y/N's answer than what meets the eye, and Johanna knew that maybe she hadn't been wrong to investigate when they first met.

Unlike Gods and Endless, Y/N was not born into her function; she was hardly supposed to be anything else but human. And in a way, her purpose had been deeply rooted into her humanity.

Everyone else could feel it whenever she tells a story, that warmth that only a dream could bring, but Y/N firmly refused to acknowledge it.

She knew of impossible things, and yet she denied being one herself, even after discovering her father's long-kept secret. 

Y/N turned to look back outside, staring at all the houses where people slept soundly in their beds, wondering what kind of adventures or horrors they were facing behind their closed eyelids.

She wondered if she could see them someday.

"I promised Amelia a good story, Johanna. I saw to it that I spoke true."

Notes: Chapter one's done!! Again, I would absolutely love to hear your thoughts on it!

#When Dreams Despair #dream of the endless #dream of the endless x reader #the sandman netflix #lord morpheus #morpheus x reader angst #morpheus x reader fluff #sandman netflix #the sandman #the sandman fanfic #the sandman imagine #dream of the endless imagine #morpheus x you #sandman x reader #dream of the endless x you #morpheus fanfiction #morpheus imagine #dream x reader #morpheus x reader

[dailyfanfix]

Fic Rec II: Today I Bury You in Me

source: https://archiveofourown.org/works/40934916

(This fic is in progress, and the author uploads bonus content which I will get to after I’ve done all the uploaded chapters.)

Author: @the-darklings

Fandom: The Sandman 

Relationships: Morpheus/Reader

Point of View: Second-Person

Rating: Teen and Up Audiences

Archive Warning: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings

Word Count: 26,337

Chapters: 7/10

Language: English

Tags by the Author: Angst, Mutual Pining, Fluff and Angst, Slow Burn, Not Actually Unrequited Love, Slow Build, Tenderness, Platonic Relationships, Non-Sexual Intimacy, this will span 1000 years because Dream is Like That™

Summary by the Author:

"What does the Lord of Dreams dream about?"

What you can expect:

Major slow-burn. You’re gonna be seeing pre-Roderick Burgess Morpheus for a while, so the denial is real. Wanderer’s character is really interesting, and you’ll be seeing interactions not just with Morpheus, but other creatures as well—and I’ve gotta say, the author does a great job at writing the characters. 

The dynamic between Wanderer and Morpheus is a rollercoaster. Both of them are clearly into each other but being immortal just means that pining can last a hundred years and they still wouldn’t be a quarter of the way to confessing. 

Expect a satisfactory amount of fluff and angst. Although I will say, when there is fluff, it’s really fluffy. But when it’s angst…well, it’s pre-Burgess Morpheus so brace yourselves.

---

(Masterlist)

Posted on September 6, 2022

Posted by Sophia

Ko-fi

Masterlist of the Chapters

Thoughts on Chapter 1: Year 0-200

Thoughts on Chapter 2: Year 200-300

Thoughts on Chapter 3: Year 304

#sophia recommends #the-darklings #today i bury you in me #The Sandman #dream of the endless #the sandman netflix #morpheus #morpheus fanfiction #dream fanfic #morpheus imagine #morpheus x you #sandman x reader #dream of the endless x reader #lord morpheus #morpheus x reader angst #morpheus x reader fluff #the sandman fanfic #morpheus x y/n #morpheus x y/n angst #morpheus x y/n fluff #king of dreams #the dreaming #morpheus x reader #fic rec II

[attackurheart88]

“Do you love me?”

“Yes.”

“Do you really love me?”

“Yes.”

"Do you really really love me?”

They stop what they’re doing and turn to look at you. An audible sigh is heard.

“If I come over there and kiss you until your lips fall off will you shut up?”

#illumi zoldyck #levi x reader #bakugou katsuki #levi ackerman #zoro x reader #megumi fushiguro #illumi x you #bakugo x reader #tsukishima kei #saiki k x reader #tsukishima x reader #megumi x reader #light yagami #gender neutral y/n #gender neutral insert #morpheus x reader #kurapika x you #kurapika fluff #kurapika x reader #dream of the endless #snv poseidon #poseidon x reader #l lawliet x reader #jjk sakuna #sakuna x reader

[hunny-beann]

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

Rest Now, Wife, Mine

Dream of the Endless x f!Reader

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

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

Thankfully, he is all too happy to oblige.

Warnings: None! Just pure and unbridled fluff :)

Word Count: 1,298

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

What a disastrous little thing she was, truly.

He could never love another.

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

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

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

"You are tired, my dear."

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

He chuckled quietly, shaking his head,

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

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

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

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

He frowned.

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

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

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

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

"You just what, dearest?"

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

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

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

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

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

"Poor thing,"

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

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

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

"Rest now, wife, mine."

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

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

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

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

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

ao3 link

#morpheus x reader #the sandman x reader #dream x reader #dream the endless x reader #morpheus x y/n #sandman x reader #the sandman x you #dream x y/n #dream of the endless x reader #dream of the endless fic #the sandman fanfic #morpheus x you #morpheus x f!reader #sandman x female reader #dream x fem!reader #the sandman fic #morpheus fanfiction #morpheus fic #morpheus x wife #the sandman fluff

[writethrough]

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

Mid-Afternoon Dream

(Morpheus x Gender-Neutral Reader)

Synopsis: Morpheus enjoys his moment of peace with you.

Warnings: None

Word Count: 430

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

“My heart.” 

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

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

#morpheus #dream #dream of the endless #morpheus fluff #dream fluff #dream of the endless fluff #morpheus x reader #dream x reader #dream of the endless x reader #morpheus x gn!reader #dream x gn!reader #dream of the endless x gn!reader #morpheus x gender neutral reader #dream x gender neutral reader #dream of the endless x gender neutral reader #morpheus x you #dream x you #dream of the endless x you #morpheus fanfic #dream fanfic #dream of the endless fanfic #morpheus one shot #dream one shot #dream of the endless one shot #morpheus imagine #dream imagine #dream of the endless imagine #morpheus imagines #dream imagines #dream of the endless imagines

[just-some-random-blogger]

hello, can i request

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

Good Thing

Dream of the Endless x Reader

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

Word Count: 2k+

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

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

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

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

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

One more.

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

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

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

Fuck me.

And he did.

And he was.

Still is.

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

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

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

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

"Dream-"

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

A tired cry leaves my mouth.

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

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

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

"Promise?" I blurt desperately.

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

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

I faked it.

I faked it and immediately he stopped.

Thank. Goodness.

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

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

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

"T-thank you," I mutter.

"What was that?"

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

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

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

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

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

"Dream-"

"I will not forget this."

"... w-what?"

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

Well, fuck. "My love-"

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

"No," he rebuts.

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

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

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

He growls.

I gasp when his icy hand takes my cheek.

"You have offended me beyond reparation."

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

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

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

A shiver runs down my spine.

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

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

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

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

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

Goosebumps form on my skin, "Dream-"

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

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

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

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

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

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

I shiver and pant at the notion.

"Well?" he coaxes.

I find myself nodding, "y-yes."

Dream kisses my cheek repeatedly, "very good."

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

Fuck, I'm going to die.

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

"Never," he rather instantaneously retorts.

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

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

My cries fall deaf on his ears.

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

"F-fu- D-Dream-"

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

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

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

"T-they're so cold-"

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

I nod, "thank y-you."

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

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

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

He hums against me. It makes me squeal.

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

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

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

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

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

"W-What?"

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

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

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

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

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

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

[morpheusbaby3]

Morpheus telling Lucienne about the problems he has been through:

#dream of the endless fluff #morpheus x reader #the sandman #the sandman fanfic #lord morpheus #the sandman x you #dream of the endless x reader #morpheus fluff #morpheus x leitora #dream of the endless smut #the corinthian #lucienne the librarian #lucifer morningstar #alex burgess #desire of the endless #the sandman headcanons #the sandman imagine #the sandman art #the sandman memes #neil gaiman

[withoutyouimsaskia]

The Sandman Works Masterlist

Hello there! I figured it was about time that I made a comprehensive list of all my fics set in the world of The Sandman so here it goes ❤️

Remember Me, Special Dreams

Table of Contents and Playlist - Self-insert. You're having trouble with recurring night terrors and Morpheus pays you a visit. (Warnings: language, angst, mentions of graphic night terrors. Smut in later chapters.)

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Sometimes It's Fated

Part 1 | Part 2 | Part 3 | Part 4 | Part 5 | Part 6 Coming Soon

Self-insert. AFAB reader. Dark Morpheus. After restoring the Dreaming and locating the missing dreams and nightmares, Morpheus turns his attention to finding you, the human he believes fate has chosen for him. (Warnings: Minors DNI. Dark Morpheus, smut, possessive behaviour, voyeurism, dub con/non con.)

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One Shots

Healed - Fluff. Gender neutral reader. You hurt yourself at home and Morpheus tends to you. (Warnings: injury, blood.)

Fever Dream - Fluff. Gender neutral reader. You develop a flu-like illness resulting in fever dreams. Morpheus helps you with the nightmares and cares for you. (Warnings: sickness, nightmares, physical intimacy.)

Decisions - Fluff. Gender neutral reader. You and Morpheus are due to attend an Endless family gathering and you ask Morpheus for points on what to wear. (Warnings: physical intimacy, suggestive themes.)

Low - Angst/comfort. Gender neutral reader. Morpheus attempts to bring comfort to a dreamer who is managing depression, while in his cat form. (Warnings: angst, talk of depression.)

Autumn - Fluff. Gender neutral reader. Morpheus has made you a dream based on one of your favourite things and you explore it together. (Warnings: physical intimacy.)

Don't Stop - Smut. You and Morpheus are in the exploratory stages of your relationship. Morpheus asks to worship you, and all is going well. At least, that is, until you start to wake up... (Warnings: Minors DNI. Smut.)

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#the sandman #the sandman 2022 #the sandman netflix #sandman #sandman fic #the sandman fic #fanfiction #the sandman imagine #morpheus #morpheus x reader #morpheus/dream #morpheus/dream x reader #dream #dream x reader #dream of the endless #dream of the endless x reader #the dreaming #the endless #tom sturridge #sandman smut #dream smut #dream of the endless smut #sandman x reader #fluff #angst #comfort #sandman masterlist #the sandman masterlist #saskia writes sandman

[littledollll]

hi, can i request something comfort / fluff for morpheus? like him reading to his s/o , thank you

Favorite place

Morpheus x reader

A/n: I love writing for Morpheus so much, I wanna b R so bad (this is my 3rd time writing this tumblr stop being a DICK.)

No warnings

★★★★★★★★★★★★★★★★★★

This was your favorite place in the universe. Of countless realms and people, this was it. You safe space, your safe person. Your heart belonged to the dreaming, it belonged to him.

This being who’s attention you somehow managed to get. Morpheus could be proud and straight up mean sometimes, yes. But he is much more, he’s loving and gentle, he carries a big heart and endless knowledge.

Wrapped in his arms as he lulled you into a state of endless peace. He’s always had that ability, of course it makes sense him being king of dreams and what not but it wasn’t his power or sand. Just his presence and person.

You relaxed at the sound of his voice, for story telling came effortlessly to him. Words floating in the air creating the perfect image for every scene of the book. Tone not too soft but not loud enough to disturbe the calmness around you. It was perfect.

His behavior towards and with you, he always took the utmost care of you and would try to ensure you nothing but comfort.

The book itself, his reading, his arms wrapped around you as you flipped the pages for him. His calm breathing though he did not need it, he did it for you, and you subconsciously followed.

Each word pulled you deeper and deeper into a state of relaxation, each page you felt like you could get lost in space.

Days like this were a lot more rare than he wishes. He can feel your heart and see your dreams, he wishes he could always keep you this close, this calm for you deserve nothing less.

He looks at you like you hung the moon and treats you like you’re made of glass. But you’re strong, smart, stubborn and certainly not a lady in distress. Yet he feels you deserve nothing less than this treatment.

He wishes he could give you more. Maybe everything itself. But out of all things he’s capable off, all the ideas and dreams, all the power he could share, this is what you ask of him.

You ask him for his time. To be held by him and read for, he reads each line with adoration, truthfully his mind is not on the book. He’s absentmindedly reading, but focused on you. At your hums whenever something interesting happens, how you shift to cuddle closer into him, how you’re following his breathing.

He feels you reject the idea of sleep, opting for more time with him. Awake and with him. You swear that as lovely and realistic as the dreams are they couldn’t compare to being with him awake and you defend that opinion with all your might. He doesn’t understand it, but he adores it, he adores you.

He feels you reject the idea of sleep, opting for more time with him. Awake and with him. You swear that as lovely and realistic as the dreams are they couldn’t compare to being with him awake and you defend that opinion with all your might. He doesn’t understand it, but he adores it, he adores you.

He feels you reject the idea of sleep, opting for more time with him. Awake and with him. You swear that as lovely and realistic as the dreams are they couldn’t compare to being with him awake and you defend that opinion with all your might. He doesn’t understand it, but he adores it, he adores you.

He wishes he could give you more. Maybe everything itself. But out of all thinks he’s capable off, all the ideas and dreams, all the power he could share, this is what you ask of him.

#the sandman #dream of the endless #lord morpheus #morpheus sandman #dream of the endless x reader #morpheus x reader #morpheus x reader fluff #tom sturridge #the sandman morpheus #the sandman x reader #the sandman neil gaiman #the sandman netflix

[fxllfaiiry]

Now playing... I wanna be yours by Arctic Monkeys

Thinking about lazy makeout sessions with morpheus.

*.·:·.✧ ✦ ✧.·:·.*

“Dream stop we’ll get caught.” You whispered anxiously into your dear husband's ear while trying not to moan loudly.

“I don't currently care my queen.” He stated smirking into your neck, sucking harder. You moved around slightly in his lap to give him better access causing you to accidentally touch his clothed hard-on, unknowingly making it harder for him to not take you over his lap.

Making out on his throne was a terrible idea. Anyone could walk in, how did he not seem to care? Before you could ask him anything, he had pulled himself out of your neck and was placing his swollen lips onto yours.

His hands eagerly went down to your tits squeezing them through the fabric. You tugged on his hair making him moan lightly into your mouth, his plump lips were moving with urgency against yours devouring you with every breath. Before he could explore you any further you pulled back panting with spit smeared all over your rosy lips. He smiled looking at you with nothing but sheer love in his eyes.

You took your thumb and slowly wiped his spit-covered lips, wishing they would be on yours again soon. Without saying another word, you placed a chaste kiss on his lips and whispered, “I love you, my lord.”

He had never felt this lucky in his entire life. He had an angel all to himself.

“I love you more, my beloved queen.”

And with that, he once again crashed his lips onto yours.  

#the sandman imagine #the sandman smut #morpheus smut #morpheus #morpheus x reader #lord morpheus #dream of the endless x reader #dream fluff #dream smut #dream of the endless #neil gaiman #tom sturridge #netflix #dream x reader #morpheus x you #morpheus x y/n #the sandman #the sandman x reader #📂 ‧₊˚ my works .ᐟ

[melancholypancakes]

This is kinda sad and dark but how would dream react to reader being treated like carrie white in the move. Like she's not very popular, she's shy and doesn't really like going to parties and social events. But when she went to her prom or whatever social event( reader's 18) she gotten embarrassed when her bullies pour pig's blood on her?

Would dream's reaction changed based on is he was dark!dream or regular Dream? Also would his reaction changed based on if reader told him about her bullies or not? Like she avoided the dreaming for a few days( or weeks)

Damn, that is Dark and I really don’t like “Dark! Morpheus” fanfics it’s just way too over the top on his character with yandere tendencies.

So, I’m going with normal Morpheus I personally think he’d be concerned about the reader’s wellbeing especially if she not in the dreaming yet be asking questions.

Also, since Morpheus doesn’t kill mortals I’d say he plagues the reader’s bullies with nightmares as punishment when he finds out.

For example, the reader could be crying curled up in her bed and Morpheus goes to check up on her because she’s refusing to see him unknown to him on her feelings towards her bullies.

Morpheus is going to her if she’s not coming to him, and he is really concern and sits on her bed next to her.

She knows he is there but is too emotional to look at him, “Y/n please…look at me.” He says.

Dream is brooding but is also concerned for the girl while he may be upset she is avoiding the dreaming and him.

He also knows she is in pain, she sniffs from all the crying and wipes her tears with the blanket and looks at Dream with ruined makeup.

“Y/n…why are you avoiding the dreaming and me?” He asks as he puts his hand on her cheek softly.

She sniffs with teary eyes and cries again, “ I’m sorry…Dream….I” she sobs as she struggles to talk.

“I didn’t you and the others to see me this way…I’ve been getting bullied at school and they…they..poured blood on me at prom!” She wailed as she collapsed into Morpheus arms.

He was shock by her sudden embrace as held her as she crumbled into more tears, the reader was vulnerable and Morpheus was livid.

Reader was very sweet and kind who would do such a thing to such a sweet girl?

Morpheus wanted to punish those Mortals but the reader didn’t want him to do anything rash.

“Please…Dream don’t hurt them on my account..” she begged but Morpheus looked at her and held her face.

“Y/n. They hurt you I cannot let that go.” He said and Y/n leaned into his touch and sighed.

There was no talking Morpheus out of this, he was so stubborn and prideful but when it was with the reader he was very protective of her.

“Okay….just please. Don’t do anything too bad.” She plead as she warmly smiled at him knowing how much he really cared for her.

The reader did regret not telling him sooner, she avoided the dreaming and him but knew she wouldn’t do it again and hoped Morpheus wouldn’t hurt her bullies THAT bad.

Morpheus kept his word, he plague the bullies with horrid nightmares.

While Y/n was at school she was chipper and happier, she was doing well at school now and her parents were grateful their little girl was happy and doing good.

Unlike, her bullies were getting bad grades and falling behind due to the lack of sleep.

Well, at least the bullying stopped and when Y/n went into the dreaming to greet her friends and the King she leaned in and kissed Morpheus cheek as a thankful gratitude, “Thank you, Dream..”

Needless to say the King face was flushed with redness as the young girl giggled.

#the sandman #morpheus x reader #dream of the endless #morpheus #dream x reader #i am a simp #y/n #morpheus x y/n #lord morpheus #the sandman x reader #the sandman fluff #morpheus fluff #morpheus x fem!reader #morpheus x reader fluff #the sandman angst

[pingguins]

When Dreams Despair

|| Ch. II || The Regent

↳ Previous Chapter | Navigation | Series Masterlist

Dream of the Endless x F!Reader

Word Count: 16.2k

Warnings: Cursing, mentions of death and pain.

Notes:

I *know* that I'm uploading this later than I said I would, but to be fair, I thought I'd only have to edit 4k words since this chapter was originally only 4k.

The word count ended up being 16k.

I poured my heart and soul into this one, and it's the longest I've ever written for a single chapter. I hope you guys enjoy it as much as I did while writing! As always, please tell me what you think!

Summary:

Y/N has had a very long day.

Morpheus, too.

But what's important is, by the end of it, they're both where they needed to be. Even if it means that Y/N gets a headache or two.

"Alex Burgess is dead."

Johanna’s voice pierced through the phone's speaker, clear as day even in the midst of the bustling inn. 

The New Inn had always been a popular place in town, and yet Y/N rarely saw it become so busy so fast. Customers flooded in quickly; there were a lot of familiar faces, but also a number of new ones.

Their dissonant voices pestered her.

She had attempted to tune them out, but her phone’s sharp ringing had made her jump in her seat, breaking through the mental barrier she set between herself and the loud voices of the strangers around her. 

However, as Johanna delivered the news, she was finally able to deafen the noise, her ears suddenly feeling like it was stuffed with cotton.

The air became thick, and time seemed sluggish as the clock hanging on the wall ticked unnaturally slow. Y/N’s thoughts began to blur and all she could hear was her shallow breathing as her heart began to beat faster. 

Ever since she could remember, a low, quiet humming would appear in the back of her mind at seemingly random times. 

But there were moments like these where the peculiar sound was at its peak, buzzing in her head like bees stuck in their hive. 

The phone began to slip from her hand, making Y/N flinch as she fumbled to get a proper grip before it landed on the table. She was able to catch it mid-air, the adrenaline waking her up from her daze. 

“Do you want me to check it out?”

“Uh, n-no.” Y/N sat straighter, running a hand down her face. “There’s no need for that,” she scrambled. “I wouldn’t want to take you away from your job.”

“This is my job, Y/N.”

“And I’m not your client,” she replied, more stern this time. “Besides, it seems a bit insensitive to investigate the house of the recently deceased.”

"Y/N I—”

"—have to go now, I'm with Amelia," Y/N interrupted before ending the call.

After more than two decades, she was content to leave the dream be, and investigating the Burgesses would be doing the opposite. 

She was finally able to help the caged man, changing the trajectory of the nightmare he was in. It felt foolish of her to ever fear doing so earlier in her life. 

Of course, it was not like she never wanted to, she was simply unable to.

It was her childhood nightmare, haunting her for the longest time, and it would certainly be difficult to face.

The dream was only a story, one that was over because Amelia had asked her to make it so.

The story was over . It was done.

There was nothing more to dwell on.

Amelia had been sitting next to Y/N when Johanna called, and she was left picking at her food since, waiting for their conversation to end. 

She only wanted to see her favourite babysitter again, and after compromising with Maurice to bring her along as she went to work at the Inn, Amelia looked forward to spending time with Y/N.

She was not yet finished with her school assignments, and so she was only allowed to go on the condition that she would finish them there, while being able to talk to Y/N during her breaks.  

Amelia was restless, a small frown on her face, disappointed that what was left of her break was taken over by a phone call. She tapped her fork on her plate, her legs bouncing up and down, sighing. 

Next to her, Y/N smiled pitifully, knowing how much the little girl looked forward to her trip at The New Inn. “Thanks, Amy.” She leaned towards her, giving Amy a genuine grin. 

Y/N propped her elbow up on the table, resting her chin on her hand as she took a sip of her tea, a silent apology twinkling in her eyes, hoping that Amelia would understand. 

Amelia whipped her head towards her, gleaming now that she finally had her attention. She cringed when Y/N ruffled her hair.

“Thank you for helping me save him,” Y/N said proudly, compelled to express her gratitude regardless of her struggles with grasping recent events. 

Y/N was grateful and considered herself indebted to Amelia, if not for helping her free the man, then for changing the course of a long-time nightmare that, until then, had not ceased to loom over her sleeping and waking hours. 

She had chased the man for most of her life in search of the reason for his frequent appearances in her dreams; however, no matter how desperate her longing was for understanding his existence, there were never any answers, because she had always been helpless, only being allowed to see his anguish rather than break the circle and the glass—something she had been wanting to do for  years. 

Amelia had changed that, though. 

But she has yet to understand how.

The little girl squealed, jumping off of her seat to hug her, but not quite reaching due to the height difference of the stool Y/N sat on. "You saved him!" She cheered. "I knew it!"

Y/N stood from her seat, crouching down to Amelia’s level and opening her arms for the welcomed embrace. 

“Is that him?” the redhead asked, pointing at something over Y/N’s shoulder. 

There was a moment of silence. Y/N knew what Amelia was referring to, she felt its presence everywhere like a pair of eyes following her around, especially now that it was at the Inn. 

It was the painting she hung hours ago. Many stopped to view it, most of them taking pictures of the new decor.

And for a moment, one fleeting moment, their irises seemed to twinkle with the stars that covered the night sky, entering a quiet haze of admiration. 

Not for its beauty, but for its muse. 

Y/N cleared her throat, pulling away and offering her hand to Amelia. “Yes, that’s him.”

Amelia gladly took her hand, and they walked until they stopped in front of the painting. She was lifted up into Y/N’s arms, now getting an eye-level view of the man that she had only heard the story of. 

She awed, enthralled by the image, her eyes shining with delight.

Y/N finished the painting the night she returned from her visit to Johanna’s, immersing herself within it until just hours later, she was making her way to the Inn at the brink of dusk, holding the wrapped canvas protectively. 

Though it was barely morning, she had invited her father, wanting him to be the first to see. He had only ever heard of her dreams and it would be the first time he would see it through the eyes of his daughter.   

He had seen her work before, as many had as well. She illustrated hers and others’ books; many of her readers could pick out her art from a mile away. 

When the dreams became unrelenting, however, it stunted Y/N’s work. He could no longer consult her for new decor at the Inn, and he stopped seeing her sketch the little things that sparked her interest. 

Though none ever saw the light of day, if he knew of them, he would be awed at the heaps of half-finished paintings kept within the confines of her room. They only ever gathered dust, covered in spare cloth or blankets. 

For one particular painting, though, the one she carried to the Inn at the brink of daylight, there was no doubt in Y/N’s mind that she wanted her father to see it. 

After all, it was painted for the Inn. It would find its home there—with the approval of her father, of course.  

It would undoubtedly be easy to acquire, as he had always wanted to display one of her paintings in the Inn. He hid behind the excuse that it would be good for business, as Y/N was a household name when it came to children’s books—he would never admit that it was solely so he could show off his daughter. 

When Y/N showed him the painting, his eyes brightened, so much so that she swore it contested the brightest star in the galaxy. 

He was overjoyed to see that his daughter was once again making art, and he took a moment to himself to take in each brush stroke, going over the intricacies and each minute detail.

And upon further observation, it was clear to him that he found it incredibly familiar. There was something about it that reminded him of something— someone.

But he shook it off. Y/N  had simply told him too much of her dream, he knew the details all too well after years of hearing it be told; it could very well be his dream, too. 

For her comfort, though, he would never say that deep within his mind, the part of it that held his memories from the centuries he had lived, something told him to look closer . 

This was about his daughter, he could wait to assess the painting later when she was gone.

“Amelia!”

Y/N was snapped out of her thoughts by Maurice, calling her daughter from the back room. 

“Break’s over, darling, you need to finish your homework.”

Maurice approached them with open arms, gesturing for Y/N to pass Amelia over to her. 

“Thank you for taking care of her as always, Y/N,” Maurice said, carrying her daughter in her arms as she smiled warmly, looking over to the little study corner they had set up for Amelia. "Thank you for giving her a place to study as well."

“But I want to talk to Y/N more!” Amelia whined, crossing her arms as she faced her mother, pouting. She gave her best puppy eyes, but Maurice stood firm, not wanting for her to develop a habit of extending break times. 

Amelia wrapped her arms around her mother, placing her chin on her shoulder in defeat. 

Y/N rubbed a hand up and down Amelia’s back to console her. "If you finish all your homework today, I promise I'll tell you the most fantastic bedtime story when I get the chance, okay?" She offered, feeling a pang in her heart at Amelia’s displeasure. After all, had she not been on the phone with Johanna, they would have gotten more time to talk, which was what Amelia came there for in the first place. 

Begrudgingly, Amelia kept silent, only nodding her head and nuzzling her face in the crook of Maurice’s shoulder. Maurice cooed, rocking her daughter gently as Amelia sniffled.

She gave Y/N an apologetic smile, mouthing a small ‘thank you’ before going back to their table.

Y/N took another glance at her painting, delighted that she no longer feared what it represented—but an inexplicable feeling lingered. 

Since her return from the Dreaming, she had been feeling out of touch. Her mind would wander to places she had only been to in her dreams, causing her to make small mistakes throughout the day. 

Though she no longer worried about nightmares that came during her slumber, it was quite unexpected for her to drift off in the morning, getting stuck in her own daydreams at the most inconvenient times. 

And there was no doubt that others felt the same when viewing the painting. Most would pass by with lingering stares, some would look from afar.

But for whatever reason, even the most distracted person passing by the Inn, if ever the painting would catch their eye, they would enter only to admire it. 

Y/N decided that she would no longer keep parts of him locked up; deep down, she and everyone who took even a single glance at him inside of that painting knew that Lord Morpheus had come back.

And so have their dreams. 

In a place so dark and solitary, the Dream Lord would never be alone; everyone who entered the Inn would know of the torment he was put through, most would understand that it was not his fault—nor was it his decision—to leave them. 

Through one of the windows, Y/N noticed the leaves falling from the nearby trees. Her eyes strained, trying to ascertain why she was suddenly drawn to them. 

Her brows furrowed—the leaves were falling slowly. 

It was quite windy that day; the trees should have been shaking in the breeze instead of the unnatural swaying that Y/N had noticed. The bushes below did not rustle, and instead danced sluggishly back and forth as if someone had taken a video and played it in slow motion. 

She walked closer to the door, raising one of her hands to pinch her arm.

This only happened in her dreams, and though she usually knew when she was not in the waking world, she hoped that this was an exception. 

She looked around, observing the people around the Inn—had they noticed what was going on outside? 

Y/N quickly found that the answer was no, as they were all behaving as normally as they had before she peered through the windows.

The employees were serving meals, some preparing drinks. Amelia was determined to finish her homework, speedily scribbling through the pages of her textbook with Maurice right next to her, ready to help her should she need it. 

No one noticed Y/N's puzzled expression, and she wondered if it was all somehow part of an elaborate, hyper-realistic dream.

Driven to find some answers, she approached the door, cautiously opening it and stepping through to the other side to search for the cause of the disturbance.

Instead of trees and grass, she saw pillars and the tall, familiar set of stairs that lead to a throne; one she knew very well.

The palace was no longer broken, not a single piece of stone out of place. The cracks on the walls that she had come to know in her many visits to the Dreaming had disappeared.

But regardless of its beauty, the light that shone through the windows was not as bright, and the colours that gave the room life—even in its worn-down form—were faded.

It reminded her of a photograph, capturing only the mere image of something but never quite encapsulating the essence and the spirit of its subject.

Though Y/N marveled, captivated by the mended palace she had only hoped to see, it was unsuccessful in deceiving her.

The Dreaming was her second home, and she knew whenever she stepped into its warm embrace.

"Y/N Gadling" A woman spoke. 

Y/N tore her gaze away from the palace, her eyes landing on the woman standing a few feet ahead of her. 

She had brown skin, curly black hair and dark, piercing eyes. She was not malicious, no, Y/N could tell, but the air around her was unsettling, enclosing you in its hold, warning you to tread lightly. 

She was not alone, however. She stood between two other women, one that looked older, and another one—the oldest one—who had wavy, salt and pepper hair.

The Fates eyed her, assessing the girl before them, their curious eyes wielding more power than any human could comprehend. They knew, of course they knew, and it was up to her to raise three important questions—three that would have everlasting effects upon the events that would take place in the near future.

“The Daydream,” the Mother added, keeping the same regal stature as her sister-selves.  

Y/N looked at them carefully; Greek mythology was something she had taken an interest in as a writer, and she had an inkling of who they might be. One would certainly remember The Three, as they held a crucial role in the entire sequence of the universe. 

“His regent,” the Crone called. 

She adjusted her bearing, squaring her shoulders as she held her hands behind her back, holding her head high. “The Fates. I’ve heard of you—stories, mostly.”

The Three smirked, giving each other knowing looks at Y/N’s commanding posture; she no longer looked inferior to them, and held herself with pride rather than the child-like curiosity that lingered in her gaze when she stepped into the faux throne room. 

Y/N knew the falseness of the ground she stood upon, and though she had not entered the Dreaming, any place that looked as such she would stand on with the utmost respect. 

The Fates were, in fact, more powerful than she could ever imagine. However, fake or not, they would fail to look down upon her in her own home.

“It has begun,” The Maiden spoke. 

Y/N’s eyebrows gave the slightest twitch, looking at the other two beings and waiting for their turn to speak.

“Careful where you tread, our dear Daydream,” The Crone said, her voice dark and low, vibrating through the air—though in the form of an ordinary elderly woman, her warning could turn the heads of the most powerful beings.

 "The power you hold does not go unnoticed. Many will seek you now," The Mother continued. Her voice was warmer, but nevertheless vehement. 

The Hecate talked in riddles, most of which hard to decipher; Y/N would have to make the most out of her three questions if she wanted to understand. 

“For me to have received such a visit, I would have to be something other than the person I think myself to be,” Y/N replied, The Three listening intently, seemingly waiting for a slip of the tongue. 

“I know not what I am, but you refer to me as his regent. Who might that be?” Y/N asked, her voice unwavering despite her internal disarray. She kept her mouth shut as an active effort to try and keep the questions at bay.

She held no control over the circumstance The Fates had forced her into. However, as long as she remained cautious of each word she spoke, it would influence the answers she would get. 

Decrypting them would be the challenge, but she could already think of one Johanna Constantine to help her with that. 

Behind her back, Y/N’s hands were balled into fists. Her composure did not falter, but in the back of her mind was a tsunami of questions she would not be ready for in the waking world.

She hid her nerves quite nicely from The Three, and to a great extent, to  herself as well. 

"He is not a person, my dear. He is the monarch of the realm you have sought shelter in for many years," The Maiden responded. 

"He is the ruler of dreams," The Mother continued. "But you have known him to be your dream."

Y/N remembered flashes of the man in the sphere. Were they referring to him? Had she been dreaming of the King of Dreams for a long time? Was it really the Sandman?

The oldest stepped forward. "And the one that came long before you."

Much to Y/N’s displeasure, with only a few words, The Crone had muddled the clues she was piecing together. They spoke of the man she knew from her sleep, surely—at least, from what she could gather, The Three should have been referring to him.

However, she knew not of his past. The Sandman would have existed aeons before herself, and though it should be overt information, The Fates felt it important to let her know in person. 

Why? In what world would their fates be attached to one another? What did his past have to do with her present?

"You call me ‘daydream’, as my father does. What is the significance of this?" Y/N asked, hoping to have asked the right question to gain further knowledge. She fiddled with her fingers behind her back, anxious that she might have wasted one of her chances. 

"There is no more significance, my dear," The Mother replied.

Y/N held her breath.

"There is only power," The Maiden continued.

Y/N’s hands shook, balled tightly behind her back, her nails digging into her palms. Her face began to show disdain, her eyebrows shaping into an obvious frown as their cryptic ways began to frustrate her. 

She only searched for answers, and though she had not expected The Fates to be of much help, it still upset her that they only seemed to aggravate her questions. 

"And there is only you." The Crone added. 

Y/N exhaled, releasing the breath she did not realise she was holding, and relaxed her hands, clasping them together gently—still behind her back—instead of squeezing so tight that she reduced bloodflow. 

"You are an intelligent one, dear. Your words have not been wasted,” The Crone reassured, though she kept her words simple and esoteric.

"Certainly better than her predecessor," The Maiden quipped as the other two repressed their laughter, only allowing their snickers to be heard. Regardless of their quiet amusement, their voices still seemed to echo inside of the palace replica. 

 Y/N smirked, however bemused by their antics. "One does not get a visit from The Three often. It would be a shame to squander the questions I have been gifted."

Though the Hecate had their purpose, it seemed as though they were not one to deny small conversations, and Y/N hoped to take advantage as she was only left with her final question.

"You speak of gifts. Very fitting for one of your kind," The Mother commented.

"When dreams despair, the sleeping shall receive a daydream as a gift from Death,” The Crone spoke, each word purposeful and carefully crafted into a phrase that lingered in the air—one whose meaning was obvious to all but the person it was intended for. 

"And they have.” The Mother looked at her other self, sending a knowing glance, their eyes speaking a million different things that they may never say aloud. 

"But what is a gift, if not wanted?" The youngest asked.

“And what becomes of it when it is not?" The eldest finished.

Y/N lowered her chin slightly, her eyes pointed, stern and peremptory towards The Three. There was a low rumbling that shook the ground below them, one that challenged the pillars that held the palace up proudly. 

A smirk graced their faces, indifferent to the trembling stones and structures that surrounded them. 

Y/N had many questions, and yet she only had one left to ask. 

She inhaled, closing her eyes and lifting her chin, then opened her eyes once more and exhaled, staring at the Hecate with volition that bled into the atmosphere around them. 

The shaking stopped.

It was not her home, and yet the false palace remained obedient under her mere presence.

“What has begun?” She asked, keeping her composure steady and her words clear; she dug her nails into her palm once again.

Light flashed through the windows, thunder roaring all around them. The Three did not waver, but their smirks turned into grins, glancing at the windows for a moment before returning their gaze onto Y/N.

Their eyes darkened as they all held their hands together in front of them, tilting their chin up proudly; The Three’s power grew, the air growing thick as they replied.

“The end,” they yelled, their voices echoing and tonitruous before the entire palace turned to one great flash of light, momentarily blinding Y/N.

She shielded her eyes with her arm, then it was over, when the blinding light had gone, she put her arm back down, finding that the view in front of her was different.

“Excuse me?” 

Y/N flinched, quickly turning around to face whoever had tapped her shoulder. It was a woman, shorter than her, looking curiously as Y/N regained her composure.

She wiped the baffled expression off of her face, replacing it with an apprehensive smile, waiting for the woman to continue speaking. 

“Are you okay? You’ve been standing there a while,” she asked, concerned, before chuckling shyly. “And you’re, uhm, kind of blocking the door.” 

Y/N laughed, nervous, clearing her throat and blinking rapidly, trying to get rid of the haze and the feeling of dust in her eyes. 

“I-I’m fine. It’s just been a weird day. Thank you for asking, though,” she replied, grateful for the kindness the woman had shown. If she was blocking the door, the stranger could have easily pushed her to the side. 

The woman, though, was now preoccupied with something else. She was looking directly into Y/N’s eyes, studying them carefully. Y/N awkwardly shuffled her feet to try and get away from the prying gaze. 

“I…I think there’s something in your eyes, miss…” the woman trailed off, mesmerized by the lights that twinkled within Y/N’s irises. 

Y/N looked at the ground, tearing herself away from her curious stare as she waved her off. “It’s, uhm, I have allergies,” she sniffled, quite forcefully, rubbing her nose and her eyes, the skin appearing red from the irritation. “I’ll be fine.”

Before the woman could voice more of her concerns, Y/N had already given her thanks, walking away briskly while muttering something about allergens being in the drinks. The stranger watched her leave, reluctantly telling her to get help if she gets sicker. 

* * *

Y/N’s knee bounced up and down as she sat alone on a park bench, tightly clutching her phone in her hands. She had long lost track of time, pondering over the strange circumstances that she seemed unable to escape. 

She spent a while trying to decipher what The Fates had said to her, which was surely the hardest to do seeing as she was only given pieces of information she did not know how to connect.

There had been many moments in her life where she was left completely dumbfounded and she thought that maybe, there was nothing left in the universe that could leave her as shocked and confused and afraid.

One of those moments was finding out about her father’s long, long life, and how he would outlive her for—well, forever. She thought that it was as much as her human mind could comprehend, choosing to accept it rather than to question it.

After all, she had seen him get hurt to the point where it was considered fatal, but he would always come out of it just fine. 

She guessed that, maybe, when someone has lived for centuries, they have the tendency to get quite reckless over time, something she had repeatedly scolded her father for. 

Point is, her perception of human reality had long been warped. However, it was never to the extent where a supposedly mythological being found it rather important to transport her to another realm in the middle of the day—in public, no less.

Not to mention leaving her physical body blocking the door to a busy establishment, susceptible to any and all outside forces without a care in the world about the harm it could have brought her. 

She stared at her feet, her hands starting to switch between picking at her phone case or relentlessly tapping the screen with fingernails she had bitten too short that her nailbeds began to sting.

It was a kind of pain that she hoped would wake her up. She was too uncertain of the world, too unsure of whether or not she was stuck in a dream.

After all, she was only human. Mortal? Possibly. But human, of course. 

Y/N flinched as a soccer ball hit her knee and landed by her feet. 

Curious, she picked it up, looking around and scanning the park for the owner. A young boy, no more than seven years old, came into view, jogging towards her.

“Is this yours?” Y/N asked, a warm smile gracing her face as she gestured to the ball in her hand. 

The boy stopped running, standing just a few feet away from her, his eyes going wide and his mouth agape as he called out for his mother, his eyes never leaving Y/N.

Alarmed, Y/N stayed frozen in her seat, resting the ball on her lap as she watched his mother run towards them both. She stammered, trying to explain that she did not mean any harm to her child, but the boy beat her to it.

“She’s the girl from my dream! The one with the rocketship!” he beamed as he excitedly pointed to Y/N. “She’s real! She’s real!”

Of course.

Y/N began tapping her fingers on the ball, feeling her chest constrict as she heard the hum once more, creeping to the surface of her mind like an oncoming storm—the distant thunder growing louder and louder. 

Raymond and the Rocketship.

Raymond Campbell.

“I’m Raymond!” The boy extended a hand for her to shake, then pulled it back. “But you know that already!” he giggled. “You remember, right?” 

How could she forget? 

He was the little boy in her first best-selling story book, the one she sloppily wrote down on her notebook a long time ago in the middle of the night, after yet another adventure-filled dream. 

He was a beloved character brought to life by the words she typed on her laptop, illustrated on the pages of Amelia’s favourite story book—her very first one written by Y/N. 

The book that sat proudly in the middle of Amelia’s bedroom shelf, ready to be reread whenever she pleased.

Raymond seemed to grow apprehensive when she gave him no response, tugging at his mother’s shirt. “She remembers me, right?” he asked, his voice losing its enthusiasm and lowering down to a shaky whimper. 

Blinking away her stupor, she smiled at Raymond, hoping to create a convincing facade. “Of course I remember!”

She looked at Raymond’s mom, who looked at her apologetically and was intending to stop her son from further bothering a stranger at the park.

However, Y/N subtly shook her head to let her know that she was more than willing to play along.

The mother smiled in return, relieved to see how she was kind enough to entertain her son, blissfully unaware of the trepidation clouding Y/N’s brain. 

Y/N offered her hand for Raymond to shake and he happily accepted. “I’m Y/N.” She extended the gesture to his mother as well, who gave her a grateful smile in return, silently thanking her for being kind to her son. 

“I’m Amanda,” the mother replied, placing both her hands on Ray’s shoulders. “I hope he wasn’t being too bothersome.”

“Oh, he could never!” Y/N replied, kneeling down to Raymond's eye level before handing the ball over to him. “Raymond here is a good friend, aren’t you, Ray?”

The little boy nodded, taking the ball with glee, “Do you actually have a spaceship?” he asked, narrowing his eyes from suspicion.

Y/N gasped, splaying her hand over her chest, feigning offence. “Why—of course I do! Who do you take me for? An imposter?” she accused, playfully pouting at Raymond who laughed and began to jump up and down.

“I want to see it!” He turned to his mother, his eyes wide and pleading. “Can we see it, please!”

Y/N exaggerated a huff and pointed towards the sky. “The ship is up there right now, so sadly, I can’t show it to you even if I wanted to.” She smiled apologetically and placed a gentle hand on Raymond’s arm. “I lent it to a good friend of mine. I’m sorry,” she pouted.

Raymond’s shoulders slumped and his jumping seized, bowing his head in discouragement. “Aw! When can I see it, then??” he asked, hopeful.

“Hmm.” Y/N squinted, removing her arm on his shoulder to place a finger on her chin as if she was deep in thought. “Do you follow your bedtime?” She eyed Raymond carefully, who now seemed to be interested in everything around them but her, so she turned to look at Amanda who only laughed in response.

“Him?" Amanda asked. “Never.” She earned a glare from her son, but she only chuckled as she ruffled his hair. “I’m only telling the truth, honey.”

Y/N sighed, giving Raymond a stern look. “That’s not very healthy, is it?”

The little boy shuffled his feet, shaking his head no. 

“Tell you what,” Y/N began. “Whenever we go to bed, we go to a place called The Dreaming. If you follow your bedtime, you’ll get there even faster; you’ll see the rocket there,” she smiled. “When it’s available, of course.”

“But it wouldn’t be real!” he argued, a deep frown on his face as he fidgeted with his fingers. 

“Says who?” She defended. “If it weren’t real, then I wouldn’t be here, would I?” She raised her eyebrow at Raymond as she waved her hands around and gestured to herself. “Right?”

Raymond gasped. “Woah,” he whispered, his eyes glazing over with wonderment and curiosity when he saw the stars that seemed to twinkle within the depths of her eyes.

Only for a moment, though. They disappeared as soon as he saw them.

Thinking that he had only been reacting to her, Y/N simply laughed and stood up, placing both of her hands on her hips. “Your dreams are just as real as you, me, and your mom, right now. Never forget that.”

She clapped her hands once and sighed. “Anyway, unfortunately I do need to be somewhere, I have to prepare for that rocketship’s landing when my friend gets back. Is that okay, Ray?” 

“As long as you promise that I can see it again next time?” He asked, holding out his pinky finger. “Pinky promise?”

Y/N held her hand out, hooking her pinky around his without a second thought. “Promise.”

Before Raymond could respond, he was called by his dad standing several feet away, gesturing for him to come over. He let her finger go, smiling widely and waving goodbye, running to his dad. “Bye Y/N! Remember your promise!”

She laughed, waving back. “I will!”

Y/N turned towards Raymond’s mother, who had her hands clasped in front of her. She wore a thick white coat, her hair was blonde and she had thin-rimmed glasses on. “Thank you,” Amanda said, smiling gratefully. 

She waved her off. “It’s no problem, he seems like a good kid.”

“Still, it was kind of you to play along like that.” The mother laughed. “He genuinely thinks you look like someone from his dream. Lucky coincidence, don’t you think? It made him really happy.”

Y/N cleared her throat, smiling as she tried to hide her nerves. “Yeah, it is. I go here a lot, though, so if you’ve been here before, maybe he’s seen me around and his brain just imagined someone who looks like me?”

Though it was not a lie—she did often visit the park—Y/N could not help but feel a pang of guilt for having lied to Amanda. 

Raymond could very well never see that rocket ship again, and his mother would have to explain that the kind lady he thought was the same one in his dream was only being nice, playing along to make him happy. 

Y/N, however, would have to keep the truth to herself, having no choice but to hide it from Amanda. After all, how could one describe The Dreaming? How could she ever explain it to her without seeming quite delusional?

Her dreams, no matter how frequent, could never truly be called her own. Some were, but she would eventually venture outside of its barriers, unknowingly travelling from one person’s sleeping mind to the next, accompanying them in their own little adventures, helping them grow and even defeat their own nightmares—nightmares she had come to know and love, sometimes seeing them around the Dreaming, too, if they ever decided to come visit. 

They were only characters to her, though. She would write them down  in some of her books, never knowing that those were indeed the physical forms of nightmares that she had come across and even befriended. 

One simply becomes accustomed to their own creativity…most of the time. In Y/N’s case, however, a major component of accepting her “vivid imagination” was an unimaginable amount of denial.

She had to turn away from the truth in favor of lying to herself that her mind was merely creating vivid fantasies.

“This is our first time here, actually,” Amanda responded, keeping an eye on Raymond, who was joyfully playing soccer with his father. Her expression held fondness for the two, cherishing their happy faces as they relished in their game. 

“Oh, I guess it is quite the coincidence, then,” Y/N chuckled, internally cursing herself for her presumption. “Anyway, I really do have to go, miss.” She held out her hand once more. “It was nice meeting you!”

Amanda held her hand in both of hers, smiling warmly. “Likewise, Y/N. You were so lovely with Ray.”

They said their goodbyes, and once again, Y/N was alone, walking aimlessly away from the park. She rubbed her eyes once, annoyed by the dust she could feel in her eyes.

There was no moment of rest for her—the park only made her all the more confused. It took her a mere moment to decide that she needed help, as she would never be able to settle these strange affairs on her own.

While meeting Raymond had not gone as badly as she would have expected, it was not supposed to happen in the first place. Not when he was only supposed to be a fictional character.

She groaned in irritation, swiftly unlocking her phone to dial Johanna’s number while trying to blink the itchiness in her eyes away.

The phone rang, and Y/N picked at the fabric of her shirt, grinding her teeth as she silently cursed Johanna for failing to answer the phone immediately.

She rubbed the back of her neck, her chest tightening as she swallowed the lump that began to form in her throat.

“Hello?”

“Jo!” She shouted. “I spoke with The Three—as in, The  Three. The Hecate, The Kindly Ones—

“Wait, wait, hold on—”

“No! Jo, I saw The Fates—” She gulped, lowering her voice down to a whisper. “And I saw Raymond.”

“Who’s Raymond?”

“Raymond and the Rocketship.”

Y/N kept walking, her eyes to the floor and distracted by her thoughts. 

“Come over. Let’s talk about it over some tea, yeah? Make sure to keep your eyes open for anything strange; call me if you're in any sort of danger. Got it?”

Y/N nodded to herself, thanking Johanna before she gladly took the offer and hung up, looking forward to a warm drink to calm her slightly shaking hands. 

Johanna had never been the most sociable, let alone hospitable, keeping her distance from most to avoid having them in the way, for better or for worse. 

And Y/N had known to be cautious, especially around people who provoked the supernatural. Her father had enough stories, and he was intent that she learned from them.

However, she somehow managed to remain friends with the demon hunter, visiting from time to time just to check in or talk at least once a month, even if only through a phone call.

It never went unnoticed by the occultist, developing a soft spot for Y/N as time went on. 

Johanna Constantine had never been the best at friendship—or any kind of relationship, really—but if there was anything she could assist Y/N with, it was surely the kind that involved otherworldly affairs. 

Y/N pocketed her phone, eyes scanning the crowd of people in the streets. It was a nice reminder from Johanna; assuming that her day would continue the way it had been going, there was a high probability that she may encounter something else—or someone else—as unexpected as her last four—two?—visitors. 

Ironically for her, the day was nice—the sun wasn’t too hot and the wind blew just enough for the temperature to be comfortable. The streets were bustling with people, some hurried off to work, some were ready to head on home, and some were simply taking a stroll out to take advantage of the weather.

“I want some chips.”

Y/N jumped, anxiously looking around her with a hand up to the side of her head. The voice sounded as though it was right against her ear, loud and high-pitched like the voice of a child. 

She spotted a little girl, dressed in a bright pink coat and dark jeans, holding her mother’s hand as she jumped up with glee, pointing to a bag of chips displayed on the top shelf of a shop window. 

“Mum look! Can I have some?” The little girl asked.

Y/N frowned. The girl had the same voice as the one she just heard, only this time, she could actually see who was speaking. 

“Please let her say yes.”

“Shit,” Y/N cursed, flinching as she covered both of her ears out of instinct when she heard another voice. The volume had not been the problem, but it was the proximity. Was there actually a person talking to her? She would have felt their breath against her skin from how close it sounded. 

“I wonder what I’ll get for my birthday.”

Y/N turned around, her eyes rapidly scanning the people that passed by. She chewed the inside of her cheek and focused on her breathing, closing her eyes for a few seconds, waiting to hear more voices. 

But there were none, and she exhaled in relief, letting go of her ears as she gathered herself before continuing her walk to Johanna’s house.

“Fuck, the deadline’s tomorrow.”

“One more day, just one more day.”

“Why isn’t he here yet?”

“Would they like this? No, probably not.”

Y/N’s head began to spin and her eyes began to water. The voices were getting louder, overlapping as they increased in numbers. She stopped walking, holding her head in her hands, crouching down and groaning in pain. 

Though she was outside, she could feel walls beginning to close around her, the air stale and unmoving.

Y/N searched the crowd, desperate to find who the voices belonged to, but there was no one. Most were not talking, minding their own business as they passed by. Some conversed with others; however, she could no longer make out what the voices were saying, there were too many, and they were all equally as loud.

She wiped the tears that fell down her face, balling her hands into fists as she stood up, ignoring the nausea and reaching for her phone to call Johanna.

That was, until she bumped into someone; she fell backwards and dropped her phone on the ground, hearing a small shatter. She cursed, immediately looking for her phone without checking to see who she had run into.

“Are you alright, miss?”

Y/N whipped her head around, looking up to see a woman who offered a helping hand. When she did not respond, only stared, the woman crouched down and retrieved her phone, examining it before returning it to her.

“The screen’s a little cracked, but other than that, I think it’s okay.”  

Apprehensively, she took the phone from the woman’s hand, checking to see the damage. There was a big crack from the top corner of the screen all the way to the bottom with small lines branching off of it. Fortunately for her, only the screen protector had been broken, and it would work as normal—she could still call Johanna. 

“How about you?” The woman asked, standing up and offering her hand once more. “Are you okay?”

Y/N took her hand this time, holding it tightly before pulling herself up; she found her footing and dusted herself off. She opened her mouth to say her thanks, but it was then that she noticed the silence. 

The voices had gone, and so did the pain. 

She could feel the air moving again and inhaled deeply, relishing in the relief her lungs felt as the heaviness in her chest vanished. 

Patient as ever, the stranger only observed her with a kind smile, one that Y/N awkwardly returned as she let go of her hand. 

The woman wore an all-black attire, her black, curly hair complementing her dark skin. She wore a tank top with thin straps and a necklace that Y/N recognized as an ankh . 

“I’m quite alright, thank you,” she lied, then clenched her jaw tightly, her eyes looking everywhere as if waiting for something else to happen—mainly, for the voices to return.

Though she felt calmer, her brain still ran a hundred miles per hour, wondering what had even caused her to stop hearing voices in her head. Was it the woman? Will she turn out to be another strange encounter for her to tell Johanna? Or was it something else?

Her body was stiff, shoulders tense and breathing still shallow. She cleared her throat, about to excuse herself—

“You don’t look alright.” Death, though many think of her as an entity to be feared, gently placed a hand on Y/N’s shoulder, hoping to ease some of the tension. It was rather blunt to say that to someone who, in her eyes, certainly was not alright, but she managed to say so without a hint of condescension.

Humans were strange; she understood their need to hide true feelings, especially to a stranger—but she was not really a stranger, was she?

Death was a familiar concept to everyone who ever lived, and thus, every one knew who was waiting at the end of their Earthly lives. At one point or another, a human will encounter Death, whether it is their time or the loss of a loved one—she will always be there, and she always has.

But she was not only Death—she was also Life. She only sought to help a human in need,  to ease their life’s stressors if only for a little bit. 

However, it would be wrong of her to deny that the woman she faced piqued her interest from the moment she bumped into her. 

Although she did it quite often, she had not meant to be visible to anyone. She was merely fulfilling her purpose, when she ran into a woman who was not even supposed to see her.

Of course she meant to ask, maybe she was not human—but as she learned during her interminable existence, especially while on Earth, there was a time and a place.

“It’s been…an eventful day,” Y/N sighed, her voice wavering. The tension on her shoulders eased and she was able to breathe deeply again.

“It happens to the best of us, don’t worry about it,” Death sympathised, her eyes warm and understanding, looking at Y/N without a hint of judgement.

The woman’s expression faltered for a moment, then turned into confusion. “Pardon me for asking—but you aren’t dead, are you?”

Y/N froze, her eyes widened and flickered to the ankh. “No, I’m not dead,” she answered, gulping. “Pardon me for asking, but are you ?”

A part of her felt ridiculous for asking such a question, but assuming her day would go on as it had been for the past few hours, it would not be an impossible concept. 

She almost wished that the woman would say yes—maybe it would convince her that she had finally gone mad, because if so, she could find some semblance of sanity. It would be easier to accept that she was merely insane than to force her mind into believing things such as other realms and the existence of The Fates.

The dark-haired woman squinted her eyes as if deep in thought, before going back to her normal, kind smile. “No, I’m just joking with you,” she laughed, positioning herself beside Y/N and looping her arm around hers, giving her a moment to pull away if she wanted.

Instead, Y/N seemed to relax at her touch.

“Walk with me?” Death asked, and Y/N cleared her throat in response before nodding silently, looking straight ahead, refusing to look at the woman beside her.

Death was a very perceptive being—she considered it a requirement as her job was to accompany people to the Sunless Lands. She was curious to know more about the clearly anxious woman who she—quite impossibly—ran into. 

However, similarly to when she would show herself to the recently deceased, precautions had to be taken. 

She would not want to distress anyone who had just passed, but especially not someone who was still alive. Whatever Death would tell her, she would carry with her for the rest of her life until they meet again at the end of it.

“So, where are you off to?” 

“A friend’s” Y/N answered stiffly. Still busying herself with watching her surroundings, and she made sure to cover as much area as she could. As Johanna had told her, she was to keep an eye out for any possible danger—who was she to ignore the expert?

Death hummed, seeing that Y/N’s attention was being given to everything else but their conversation. “You can talk to me.” She shrugged, waiting for Y/N to look her way. “I’m a complete stranger to you. You won’t lose anything.”

The Endless wanted to know more about her, curious as to how she could perceive beings such as herself, when humans are not inherently capable of doing so. 

Y/N chuckled, looking at the floor as they continued to walk aimlessly. “I don’t think you have much time for that.”

The stranger had been kind to her so far, and there was truly no harm in telling her about the day she had, but there was always a chance she would be labelled as a liar, or completely out of her wits. 

It was certainly the least of her worries, though.

Death nodded, “You’re right, I do have somewhere to be.” She thought for a moment, wanting to say the right words to make use of the little time she had to get sufficient information. “Tell me the important bits, then. The most ridiculous part of your day.” She grinned; although she hoped to get some answers, she was also genuinely interested in her well-being.

She might not be able to offer any solutions to her problems, but she could always lend a hand here and there in the form of comfort and reassurance. Death had learned that sometimes, all you need is the right person at the right time, ready to listen and accompany you, if only for a little while. 

Y/N chewed her bottom lip, thinking of how she could possibly recapitulate her recent experiences without sounding completely insane. Though she thought it unlikely for her to get ridiculed—since the stranger had been understanding so far—she did not want to bother the poor woman with her bizarre and unbelievable stories.

“Well…” She trailed off. “I met three women today—technically three—and they told me some rather peculiar things. They had been incredibly cryptic, and I’m still trying to figure out what they meant.”

She paused for a moment, picking at her fingernails as she pondered over what she would say next. “Then I met this little boy—he said he saw me in his dream. When he described it, I remember having the same one. He was in it, too. And then I began to hear voices in my head—but they stopped when you came. My dad’s immortal, too, but I don’t know if that has anything to do with today. Maybe. I wouldn’t be surprised if it did,” she rambled, nervously laughing at the end. She tore her gaze away from the pavement and to the stranger beside her, trying to gauge her reaction.

She considered telling her about the man but quickly decided against it. He has not been a part of her day—not completely—but he has always been the most peculiar part of her life. 

It would take a while to explain, and she did not want to take more of the woman’s time, nor did she want to take her kindness for granted.

Death looked away for a moment, a frown growing on her face. There was something deeply familiar with her stories, and she was disappointed to have only obtained more questions instead of answers. 

She had a purpose to fulfill and people to attend to, she knew that the answers she sought would have to wait. If the girl beside her was something more than human, their paths would surely cross again. 

Her eldest brother had a plan, as he did for most, and she would not interfere. She would not expose her true nature, not when she felt it was the wrong time.

Maybe she could pay him a visit next, though she was certain that she would not get very far if she were to question him. 

“Humans are so strange,” Death spoke, unlinking their arms, stopping their pace beneath the shade of a nearby tree. “You will go through some of the strangest things and carry it with such strength and elegance.”

“Humans?” Y/N asked. “You refer to humans as if you aren’t one yourself,” she chuckled. There was something so otherworldly about the strange woman, she stared at her with such kind eyes—an attribute she could not recall seeing on anyone else except for one.

Whenever she looked into her eyes, it brought her back to when she looked into the man’s eyes. 

Hers were welcoming, holding unconditional warmth for all those she would encounter, while his were filled with sorrow.

They were vastly different, yet they both gave the same feeling of something ethereal and incomprehensible.

The closest person she knew who had similar eyes was her father, but his were distinct. Unlike the other two, she could describe what she saw in the depth of her father’s irises. 

They were old—the eyes of a man who had lived longer than he should have. His eyes were wise and full of memories she would never truly know, and he may never truly speak of.

Death gently took one of Y/N’s hands and held it in both of her own. “Whatever had happened to you, I’m sure it means something. My brother isn’t so careless, and neither are The Three.” She glanced at someone behind Y/N, seeing the soul she was to visit next, and concluded that her time with Y/N was up.

Y/N’s eyebrows furrowed, looking over her shoulder to see what the woman was looking at.

“I wish you the best in your adventures, Y/N—hopefully we bump into each other again soon.”

Alarmed by the sudden farewell, Y/N turned her head back to the woman, but she was no longer there. 

Her hand remained extended, as if someone was still holding it, but there was nothing there. The woman had disappeared, and her heart sank, ready to hear the voices once more.

But her mind stayed quiet as she looked around, trying to find where the kind stranger had gone off to.

She brought her hand back down, and a part of her sought a reason to panic. She was certain that she had been with someone, their arms were even looped together as they were walking.

There was no unease, though, and she continued to stroll through the familiar streets of her town as if it was a normal day. 

And thankfully, she was not very far from Johanna’s house. 

Y/N’s hand—the one that the strange woman held—opened and closed at her side. She fidgeted with her fingers, rubbing it on her pants or holding her hands together, trying to get rid of the tingly feeling. 

Eventually, the sensation crawled up her wrist, to her elbow, and then to her shoulder until she was subtly scratching her entire arm. 

Her eyes were distant, and her mind was clouded and blurry. Due to this, her arm was merely a nuisance to her instead of being a source of concern, nor did she notice that the sensation started after the woman held her hand.

In her haze, Y/N also failed to recall her name leaving Death’s lips before she vanished. She held an empty expression, not having felt so in tune yet so out of touch with reality. 

She missed most of the glances that went her way, the people taking a second look just to see her eyes again as they sparkled under the sun, conspicuous even in the daylight. The children that would nudge their companions, pointing at her reflection as she passed by store windows, went unnoticed as well.

On every reflective surface, she appeared the same; she wore a dark coat, one that billowed unnaturally in the wind, moving in a slow but elegant dance as she walked by. Whenever her coat would move a certain way, one could catch a glimpse of the galaxy it held within the inner layer of the fabric. Everything about her attire was black, her feet clad in the same Doc Marten boots she wore in her dreams.

Yet those were only in her reflections; she did not own a single piece of that outfit.

Eventually, the weird static she could feel on her arm dissipated.

Unbeknownst to her, there were small, almost unnoticeable white lines that developed on her fingers, crawling up her palm like cracks on damaged pavement.

The light was bright, but exposed only enough for them to show a subtle glow, much like the sand in Amelia’s room.

Y/N’s grasp on reality seemed to have been warped, as if she was swimming in deep waters. The atmosphere felt thick but not suffocating, her vision tinted by some form of film that made her incapable of fully grasping the realm she walked on. She could feel the wind along her skin and every wisp of hair that touched her forehead, moving ever so gently in the soft breeze; she could hear every breath she took and how the oxygen entered her lungs like taking your first few breaths after you have just gotten out of the water. 

Before she knew it, she was knocking on Johanna’s door, waiting to be let in. Johanna’s muffled voice could be heard, rushed, yelling for Y/N to give her a moment.     

* * *

“Hey.” Johanna poked her head out of the door, slightly out of breath. “Sorry, change of plans. I’m kind of in the middle of something, so if you could just give me a moment—”

Her eyes grew wide but she caught herself, forcing her composure to return. Her eyes narrowed, studying the obvious difference in the way Y/N held herself.

It was the eyes again, though, that had caught her attention.

Because Y/N’s eyes had actually changed. Johanna was seeing her friend stand in front of her with glowing eyes that contained the depth of space instead of seeing it in her reflection. 

“Nevermind,” Johanna mumbled. “Get inside, but don’t go near the living room. You’ll know why when you see it.” She decided that for the sake of them both, because of Y/N’s strange demeanor, she would bring her into the safety of her home.

It might not be as safe as the average household, especially with what her living room contained, but it was better than leaving Y/N exposed outside.

But whether or not she was in danger or was the danger, Johanna was yet to decide. 

Y/N nodded silently before walking into the house, offering Johanna only a slight smile before frowning.

She had been to her house before, she was accustomed to all of the strange objects littered around it, but as she entered, there was an immediate shift in the air—one that felt familiar and strange at the same time.

Usually, the artifacts that Johanna would take home had an effect on the general feeling of the house. Sometimes there was a dark cloud looming around the rooms or—as most people would be—she would become anxious when in the presence of something demonic and supernatural.

Out of respect, Y/N generally never asked about the artifacts and she was normally none the wiser about the happenings inside of the Constantine household. 

If it involved Johanna’s work, she left the subject alone, knowing that it was much preferred by the occultist to be that way. 

The Constantines had their fair share of tragic stories. Getting involved with any of them was a risk on its own, and Y/N did not want to be in the way of Johanna in fear that it might result in calamity.

Johanna Constantine has suffered great loss. Y/N was not interested in being one of them.

Not only for her sake, but largely for Johanna’s. 

Cautiously, Y/N walked into the house, keeping herself alert for any unusual creatures or objects. There was an itch at the back of her mind that called to her, but she could not quite get a hold of the thought.

Something was inside of Johanna’s home, something she knew of but could not quite recall.

But as she reached the living room, her eyes immediately landed on a very familiar binding circle drawn onto the floor. 

It was smaller, less intricate than the one she saw in her dreams, and the symbols were different

What interested her the most, though, was the humanoid shadow trapped inside of the circle.

Y/N squeezed her eyes shut, feeling her grip on reality loosen. She inhaled deeply, hoping to regain some semblance of control when her mind seemingly drifted away from—

“It’s a demon,” Johanna mumbled. She was behind Y/N, careful to keep a close eye. There was a supposed demon in their midst, and yet she had a gut feeling that her starry-eyed friend might be more powerful than the creature she had in her living room. 

Johanna cleared her throat, shifting her feet as she looked at the shadow. “I think it’s a demon, anyway,” she admitted. “I’m actually not sure. I caught it wandering about my house. I tried sending it back to Hell but it wouldn’t work.”

Upon Y/N’s entrance, the unknown being warped into a more solid, humanoid form. Their skin was made up of grey and black nebulae patterns that seemed to absorb light, their eyes now dimming into a dark maroon than the previous bright red. They had no hair, but instead, a faint, smokey grey hue resembling flames emitted from the top of their head. 

The creature put their hand up to the invisible barrier, making it ripple in waves that spread throughout the unseeable dome, the light that bent around it being the only indication it even existed. 

“I am no demon,” they grumbled. The words echoed around the room, unnaturally low yet still present—the floor and the walls seemed to vibrate with every intonation. 

Y/N walked closer, and Johanna took one instinctive step towards her, prepared to pull her away if anything were to happen. 

“You belong in the Dreaming…” Y/N spoke, unsure of her words, but choosing the next ones carefully. “A nightmare.”

The creature’s eyes widened and Y/N gently placed her hand over theirs through the barrier, creating a black shadow that surrounded their hands, emitting off of their nearly-touching palms as dark wisps of smoke. 

“I’ve seen your kind before in the realm of dreams. Is that not where you reside?”  She questioned gently, keeping in mind the possibility that they may be one of the residents that went rogue when their world started to crumble. 

No harm would come to the creature, and though she sounded sure of herself, an inkling of desperation could be heard from the resolution in her voice and the persistence in her stare, almost as if purposely showing her dismay.

“You know of us—you wear his clothing,” the being responded, glancing at the windows then back to Y/N. “Your image wears his clothing.” There was wonderment in their voice, but they were not there to study her—the creature was there for the same reason Y/N was.

They wanted answers, too, but Y/N could not give them what she was also still seeking.

She dropped her hand, the wisps of shadow disappearing. “Go back home, Nightmare,” she ordered, noting how the creature’s expression seemed to drop at the mention of their lost home. “One such as you mustn't wander the waking world so carelessly.”

There was a part of her that wondered if she had gone too far. She did not know their whole story, and it was not an easy feat to see your once prosperous world decaying.

However, she also knew that their loyalties should have been to the Kingdom—the Dreaming—instead of losing trust in their monarch.

Lucienne stayed, and it was all Y/N needed to know that there was still hope.  The librarian’s determination to see their Lord return was enough for Y/N to decide that there was no abandoning the Dreaming—not until Lucienne’s belief lasts. 

“I could say the same for you.” The creature had tilted their chin up, as if to challenge the woman in front of them. “Do you not possess powers in which only our Lord wields?” They paused, looking over Y/N’s shoulder to gaze at Johanna.

“There have been stories about a regent,” they spoke, tearing their eyes away from the occultist’s narrowed ones and back to the woman in front. “If I may ask, am I right to assume that I have found the regent in question?”

“I’m not anyone’s regent,” Y/N answered. “Go back to the Dreaming. I know not who you speak of—I barely know your realm’s true nature, and I do not wish it to interfere with the waking world’s inhabitants.” 

Putting her foot forward, Y/N broke the circle, feeling Johanna’s tight grip on her elbow. “We’re safe, Jo,” Y/N reassured, but the hold on her arm had not changed. 

The creature stepped over the lines, free to do anything they desired in the waking world. They turned to the window, staring into the eyes of Y/N’s reflection. “You will find that the waking world is not your only realm, my lady.” 

With on more words left to say, the Nightmare turned itself into a cloud of black smoke, floating high into the air before completely disappearing. 

Johanna roughly pulled Y/N back to face her. “What the fuck was that?” she glared. “Why did you let it out? You don’t know what it’s going to—”

Y/N shook her head, calmly pushing Johanna’s hand away and holding it in hers. “They won’t do anything, I know that much. They came here for me, and if they do what I told them to do, they’ll just go back to the Dreaming.”

Pulling her hand away, Johanna ran it through her hair while her other hand rested on her hip. “And you know that how?”

“That was a Nightmare, Jo, not a demon. That’s why you couldn’t send them to Hell.”

Y/N told no lie when she mentioned her previous knowledge of the Nightmare. There were many like the one they had just encountered—she was familiar with their kind and knew that most of them were not malicious. 

They had their duties, something they lost when their monarch vanished. Now they simply wandered wherever they wanted and acted how they chose to, but it did not necessarily change them into creatures of malevolence.

“Is that why you’ve been acting weird since last night?” Johanna questioned, both of her hands now on  her hips, her eyes boring into Y/N’s. “So the Dreaming exists? You’re sure of that now?” 

Y/N shook her head, breathing deeply and trying to digest Johanna’s words. Whatever had clouded her mind was starting to wear off, and though she was not completely herself, she was starting to feel the panic rise up in her chest when she remembered why she came there in the first place. 

“I don’t know,” she admitted. “That’s why I’m here. You’re the only one I can think of who can help.” She gave Johanna a tight-lipped smile, wanting to make the tension vanish, hoping to see the usual level-headedness from her friend. 

Johanna stayed silent to take a few deep breaths, regaining as much of her composure she was capable of. She could remember all of her other so-called adventures and encounters with the supernatural—but none were as strange as this.

If everything Y/N said over the phone were true, she was faced with someone who acted as a magnet for the things she was paid to get rid of. Johanna felt helpless; deep within her mind, something told her that this was not something she could help with.

She was only human, one with many limitations—she feared that this may be one of them. 

“Sit.” She pointed to the sofa. “I’ll make tea; then you better explain what’s been going on with you,” she sighed, walking towards the kitchen to prepare their cups. 

Instead of sitting down, though, Y/N browsed through Johanna’s collection of books that she obtained through the years. They were all strewn around the house, so inevitably, she decided to do a bit of cleaning up while she was at it.

She knew better than to clean excessively, though. As she had tried once before, but Johanna simply liked the chaos of her messy home. 

Y/N flipped some books around, making sure that the titles were visible. Sometimes she would wipe the dust off the covers—she even tried to alphabetize them before she had gotten a stern look from Johanna.

“Do you have any books on the Fates?” 

Holding two cups, Johanna went to sit on the couch, placing their tea on the coffee table as she waited for Y/N to join her, which she was very happy to.

Y/N took a sip of her tea. “I think they were the ones who talked to me earlier.”

“I have books, but tell me what happened first.”

Clearing her throat, Y/N tapped her short nails on the cup. “They were cryptic. I haven’t made sense of it all just yet, but I was hoping you could help.”

“Did you ask them why they were there?”

“No,” Y/N scoffed. “I couldn’t be that direct. I’ve read about them, Jo. I wasn’t planning on wasting my questions.”

“Just making sure,” Johanna responded, taking a sip of her own drink. “Tell me what they said. I can’t promise anything, though. They obviously sought you out—what’s so important about you that the Three-in-One came for a visit?”

Y/N mulled over their conversation; it was practically impossible to explain just how dreadful it was. While she succeeded in remaining level-headed during her time with The Fates, her mind had not been clear, especially with the events that transpired before and after.

“They kept calling me ‘Daydream’” was the only response Y/N could muster, deciding that she would take it one topic at a time when it became too difficult for her to try and tell the story as a whole.

“Like your nickname?”

“Yes,” Y/N nodded. “The other one called me ‘his regent’. That has to mean something, right? The nightmare called me the same name, and my father had been referring to me as ‘Daydream’ for most of my childhood.”

“ His regent. Any ideas on who you’re a supposed ‘regent’ of?” This was certainly a curious case for Johanna, especially because it was happening to a friend. Her mind was reeling with questions—ones that she was unsure she would ever get answered, but she had to try anyway. 

“The ruler of dreams, apparently.”

Johanna choked on her tea, covering her mouth as she tried to keep her coughs at bay. “The Sandman,” she stifled, clearing her throat. “You mentioned him last night.”

If this case was certainly related to the Endless,  Johanna Constantine was mystified; it was obvious to Y/N that she had finally caught the attention of the occultist. 

Not that Johanna had not already been paying attention, but she seemed to take the situation more seriously now that an all-powerful being could possibly be involved. 

Y/N L/N, a friend she made by chance, could be the Regent of an Endless. She was drinking tea with a ruler of an entire realm.

“Oh…” Y/N trailed off, her eyebrows furrowing in deep thought. “I guess I did, didn’t I?” 

She had not noticed the slight gap in her memory. She could remember Amelia and how she told her the story, but after that—after she had woken up from her latest dream—the events were indistinct.

Whenever she did try to remember, she did not feel as if it were her own memories. They felt almost stolen, like peering into another’s mind; watching from their point of view and waiting for them to make their next move.

There was a buzz inside of her mind—silent, barely there, but its effects were ever so present. Her ears would become muted and clogged, her senses detaching themselves from reality.

It was definitely her, there was no doubting it. Had she been possessed, it would feel a little more aggressive than that—at least that’s what she thought, she had never actually been possessed before.

She concluded that maybe she had been distracted that night, and more questions appeared in her mind, fueled by the need to remember .

Ironically, though, these instances were not uncommon for her, as she could recall several moments where she often felt that she had lost some of her memories. However, that night at Johanna’s was the worst of it. 

Y/N wanted to be able to look back and say that her actions were her own, and that whatever had been hiding inside of her brain for the past thirty years would finally come to surface.

Her dreams, her father, her abilities—they had all been normal to her.

Sure, she could eventually come to admit that, like her father, she was no ordinary human. 

But what then? What could she be? Had she been anything else other than normal, her father would have told her a long time ago. He was no liar, and he has said before that it would not do them any good if he hid his true identity from his own daughter.

To be fair, though, he only said that once she noticed how no matter the wounds or illnesses he faced, he never seemed to mind the fatality.

The dangers that came with being something other than human—other than a human mortal —were immeasurable, and he decided to come clean.

Eventually.

Johanna waited patiently, giving Y/N time to think. She could remember how dissociated she looked that night, and it would not surprise her if she was having trouble remembering.

Her eyes had been distant, and her mind was obviously elsewhere. It was tough to get through to her; Johanna figured that Y/N might have only needed the company—of course, until later on when she noticed the difference in her entire demeanor and the very distinct reflection in the window. 

Y/N cleared her throat, keeping her eyes away from Johanna’s as she took another sip of her drink. “He’s only a story. Nothing more.” She shook her head, holding the cup down on her lap, keeping her focus on the tinted liquid inside. 

“And so are the Fates, and every other creature I’ve encountered,” Johanna contested, tilting her head to try and get into Y/N’s eyesight, hoping to have her attention. “They’re all stories, we just don’t know which ones are true.”

Johanna was being kind, having rid her words of any snark or sarcastic undertones; something Y/N silently appreciated. Her friend spoke softly, making conversation instead of arguing with her about the facts. 

Of course she knew that they all began with stories. Some might have been invented by some aspiring writer—a story that some mistook for real events.

There were other stories, though, that came from long-forgotten origins that were yet to be disproved or even discovered.

Deciding that she was not prepared to answer Johanna, she continued with her retelling of the Fates’ visit, praying to catch Johanna’s attention enough to ignore that she had changed the subject.

“They said that the end has begun, and left after that,” she mumbled, gulping down the rest of her tea.

The demon hunter scoffed, putting her drink down on the coffee table and crossed her arms. “The end as in…what? The apocalypse?”

“If it were the end of the world, why would they tell me that?”

Johanna clicked her tongue. “So they're talking about your end, then?” 

“Maybe,” she answered honestly. There was no point in lying, but she was tempted. 

Johanna had never been considered the nicest person, and most people she got into a relationship with would leave her. That was, if Johanna had not already beaten them to it.

Y/N did not want the same fate to befall their friendship. 

“Maybe you’re like your dad,” Johanna shrugged. “It could run in the family, you know?” she joked, laughing despite the harsh truth that lay behind her words. 

Both of them knew her father had had children before her, and a number of them faced an untimely death.

Regardless, Y/N snickered along with her, entertaining the possibility that maybe the blood of an immortal could be passed down—her half siblings may have just simply been unlucky enough not to receive it. 

“One thing stuck with me, though.” Y/N paused, chewing on her lip as she tried to recall the exact words that were said to her. “ When  dreams despair, the sleeping shall receive a daydream as a gift from Death.”

“What the fuck does that mean? Do they mean that you’re the gift? The daydream?”

“If I am, why?” Y/N asked. “And I'm supposed to do something?”

There was silence for a few moments as Johanna picked at her nails. “If you want to live, probably,” she mumbled. 

“All jokes aside,” Johanna continued, holding her hands together to stop herself from fidgeting. “If you’re just like the rest of us, the Fates would not have had a reason to talk to you. I think it means that it involves other people, not just you. Powerful beings like them always have a reason, and they would not have had one if you were normal.”

She leaned back against the sofa, swinging her arms over the backrest. “You’ve always been weird, Y/N. Admit it—”

“I’m not—”

“You are!” Johanna insisted, putting her arm back to her side and leaning forward. “The sooner you admit that, the faster we can get to dealing with it.”

Y/N shook her head, to which Johanna groaned in annoyance. “Maybe we don’t. Maybe it’ll all go away tomorrow. This is probably just…a mistake. Or a hallucination.” 

“Y/N,” Johanna sighed. “Hell exists, demons exist. Cursed objects, runes, witchcraft—they’re real. There is more than one realm. The Fates, they—”

“No.” Y/N stood up, moving to collect her things. It was ironic—she had asked Johanna for help without ever thinking that she might not be ready for it.

“Y/N look at yourself!” Johanna snapped, grabbing her by the shoulders before she turned Y/N around, holding her in place so she stood right in front of the window. 

Finally, Y/N came face to face with herself, the one she only saw in the waters of the Dreaming. Someone who had been following her for a long time—the figure in the glass, in every mirror she faced. 

It had always been there, but she had been too blind to see it, choosing to see her human form instead of the reflection she was always meant to have. 

She could see herself— really see herself. The same white eyes she saw in the water, the dark clothing, how her cheeks looked more sunken.

“ This.” Johanna tapped on the window, making a loud thud as her hand hit the glass. “Isn’t normal! And you have to stop pretending like it is!” She walked in front of Y/N, looking intently at her eyes. 

Y/N stared blankly into the window, her eyes trained on the figure in the glass.

“Gods, demons, devils, Fates—they all exist, Y/N. We both know that. Your father is immortal for heaven’s sake!” Johanna’s eyes sparkled with unshed tears, her voice composed, yet it gave the slightest quiver before ending in a low whisper. “Listen to me unless you want to end up like Astra.”

Y/N tore her gaze away from the window and to Johanna, her trance broken by the mention of the late girl’s name. 

“The Fates warned you, the end has begun,” Johanna reiterated, her hands falling back down to her sides. “Whatever the hell that means.” She turned around for a moment, wiping her eyes and facing Y/N once more, stoic as ever. 

“Okay,” Y/N mumbled weakly, unsure of what she had just agreed to. She looked over Johanna’s shoulder, her strange reflection looking back at her. 

And slowly, she stalked towards the window, her arms outstretched as she attempted to reach out, not quite sure of her next actions. The closer she got, the lesser her grasp on reality.

The air became thick, and with it, her reflection glitched, changing to the one she had always known and then changing back to the version she saw in the Dreaming. 

Eventually, it started to look like broken glass. Some fragments of her figure looked human, some looking otherworldly.

"I could say the same for you. Do you not possess powers in which only our Lord wields?" she recalled what the Nightmare said. 

Maybe there was some truth to that, and maybe all that was left to do was finally accept it. 

She stepped closer, and her fingers brushed against the glass.

The window cracked, the deafening sound echoing across the room, making both of them flinch. It webbed outwards, the cracks becoming bigger and bigger the longer her touch remained on the glass.

Slow shattering could be heard, the crunching getting louder as the damage grew.

Y/N stepped away, her fingers no longer touching the window. 

“Y/N, your hand,” Johanna pointed out, looking at her with uncertainty. The one that made contact with the window was cracked as well, similar to the glass pane. 

The damage started with her fingers, the cracks webbing higher and higher as white light emitted from underneath her skin. She stared at it in horror, watching it grow brighter to blinding degrees.

That was when Y/N realized that it burned , feeling the unbearable heat brought upon by the light that seeped from her skin, her shock subsiding the more she looked at the sight before her. 

The light beseeched for escape, pushing against her and testing the limits of her human body to see when it would break. She screamed, falling to her knees as she grasped her arms tightly, as if trying to close the cracks that were beginning to climb up from her hand.

“Y/N, I need you to tell me what’s going on,” Johanna spoke with urgency, hoping that her voice could be heard through Y/N’s cries of pain.

Wind began to howl inside of the living room, circulating Y/N as the pain became more unbearable. 

Johanna was unfazed, knowing that the strange disturbance could only be coming from one person. She put her arm up to shield her eyes, her hair billowing as she slowly walked closer to the girl hunched over on the floor. 

The house shook; books fell from their places, their pages ripped apart and scattered by the violent winds. Gadgets, documents, trinkets and more began to crash onto the floor, the smaller fragments carried in the air as they flew away.

“Y/N! You need to tell me what’s wrong so I can fix it, okay?” She yelled, hoping to get Y/N's attention without adding to her distress. 

When she failed to get an answer, she knelt on to the floor, close enough to Y/N but never enough to touch. The wind was most dangerous near her, and though Johanna tried, it would not be possible to cross such a threshold without being swept away.

She tried to reach out, hoping to touch Y/N’s arm to pull her away from the storm—but it was scorching, like fire crawling up her hand, prickling and irritating her skin.

If she got closer, the light would incinerate her.

There had to be a reason, though, right? The recent events proved that Y/N was not an average human, she was something else. Something they had yet to figure out. 

Johanna’s mind was going into overdrive, fumbling through her brain for a solution, attempting to connect the dots. 

The light was only getting brighter, the cracks on Y/N’s skin wider by the second, and the room—though wrecked by a whirlwind—was increasingly getting hotter.

The dreams, her father, the Fates —Johanna’s eyes widened as she recalled the creature that trespassed her home only minutes ago. “Y/N look at me— listen to me!” she yelled, desperate trying to get her attention. 

It was far-fetched, even by her standards, because of the lack of evidence she could rely on. There was no proof or promise of accuracy, but it was her only theory.

Johanna Constantine did not want to lose another friend. 

“The nightmare said that this isn’t your only world.” Her voice held steady, never taking her eyes off of Y/N. 

This time, she got a response. Y/N forced herself to look at Johanna, tears falling down her face and brimming the edges of her eyes, choking out a sob as she held her arm tighter against her chest.

The wind grew stronger and she curled into herself, the cracks and the glow radiating from them reaching her neck and jaw.

Horrified, Johanna continued, feeling her own tears threatening to fall. “They said that the end has begun, but it’s only begun—this isn’t the end, not yet— not fucking yet.” Hoping that her loud, albeit wavering voice, could be heard through all the chaos, she continued. “Follow them, follow the nightmare. Go to your world—wherever that is!”

Y/N screamed louder as the cracks crawled higher, reaching the side of her head as Johanna shielded her eyes from the now blinding light that emitted from them.

For a moment, Johanna felt the light cover the entirety of her living room; there was a force like an explosion and she was thrown to the nearest wall before painfully hitting the ground with a thud and a groan. 

As fast as she could, Johanna got to her feet, her eyes trailing to where Y/N once was, only to find that there was nothing but an empty space, her destroyed living room being the only proof that everything had even happened.

She would wait for Y/N to return—if she was still alive to do so. Johanna hoped she was right, and that Y/N was safe. 

Until then, she would avoid going by the Inn for a little while. She knew that Y/N’s father deserved to be informed that he might have just lost his daughter—but then again, when had she ever been good at those conversations?

If she ever had to deliver such news, she would have someone else do it. It would be a kindness to both him and herself.

Neither of them would have to face the woman who could not save his daughter. 

“Shit,” she muttered. “You better come back soon, you arse.”

* * *

“Before we go, my Lord—I feel there is something you should know.” 

Turning back to face Lucienne, Morpheus awaited the news. His realm, in his absence, had decayed and collapsed. There was nothing Lucienne could say that would make matters worse.

They were just about to leave the ruins of the palace, concluding that if the Dreaming was to return to its previous self, they would have to pay Cain, Abel, and Gregory a visit.

“There was a child—one who frequented the palace long after you had gone.” 

Morpheus’ eyes narrowed, standing straighter if it were even possible. The Heart of the Dreaming was not easily accessible to humans; a child, no matter their ability to lucid dream, should not have been able to come into his Kingdom unwelcomed. 

Unless of course the child was a Vortex, in which case he would have a bigger problem on his hands. 

Lucienne cleared her throat before continuing. “The last I saw of her, she had already grown up. And in the years she spent here almost every night, she…” Lucienne paused, not knowing the right words to say. “...helped sustain the realm. She—”

“That is not possible,” Morpheus interrupted. 

What had given this child the right to enter his realm, roam its lands and interact with its inhabitants, taking advantage of his absence to welcome herself in the heart of the Dreaming?

But most importantly, what had given her the ability to sustain it? Clearly Lucienne would not feel the need to inform him if this had only been a lost human, finding themselves in a place in which they had not intended to be.

“But it is, my Lord,” the librarian responded, walking a few steps closer to Morpheus, but still remaining a good distance away. “I had not seen her in more than a decade, but shortly before your return, she came back with powers I had not seen since your capture. She was able to mend the throne room in mere seconds.”

“You mean to tell me that this… trespasser was capable of altering my realm?” 

Lucienne bowed her head. Lord Morpheus was clearly angered, but she did not wish for Y/N to be the subject of his wrath, not when she had only ever been a gift to the Dreaming and its inhabitants. 

“Yes, my Lord,” she gulped. “But her actions held no malice—”

“She had no authority to do such things. I must find her when I am in possession of my tools. A creature with such disrespect for the Kingdom in which she does not belong must be punished.”

Instinctively, Lucienne took one more step toward Morpheus, one word escaping her lips before she could stop herself. “No.”

The King of Dreams was taken aback. He had not known his librarian to have such audacity, and it rendered him momentarily speechless.

“No?”

“With all due respect, Dream Lord, she was never a creature of harm. She was human. One who held much love for the Dreaming.” The librarian tilted her chin up, willing herself to stand her ground against Morpheus.

Her last interaction with Y/N did not go very well, but it did not take away all she had done for their realm. 

Y/N, to much of the Dreaming’s inhabitants, represented hope that they had not seen in decades. 

“Your siblings may not have come to your aid, but she did, regardless of her ignorance about who you are. She wore your clothing, she resembled your power. I believe you must go to her, but I implore you not to punish her for simply caring about our home.”

Lucienne’s description of the girl sparked a memory in Morpheus’ mind, his anger being wiped off his almost-expressionless face, replaced with one of curiosity and recognition. 

In the years of his capture, he had only seen one woman who wore the same clothing as he—one who held the cosmos in her eyes.

The woman who was the sole reason for his escape.

He must find her.

“And what is this human’s name, Lucienne?”

“Y/N.”

***

There was only silence. 

Darkness enveloped Y/N’s being as she floated aimlessly somewhere void of any life or matter. There was no burning, and there was no light. Only quiet and eerie solitude 

She was conscious, but she could not move, she could not scream, and she could not breathe. Y/N could only think, and in the blackness, she was unsure whether or not she could even see. Was she blind? Or were her eyes simply closed?

Fresh air entered her lungs and she inhaled deeply, not able to control her breathing as she finally felt herself get thrust into existence. She coughed, choking on the oxygen reviving her body.

She opened her eyes, realizing that she was lying on her back. Still clutching her hand to her chest, she sat up, beginning to hyperventilate as she assessed where she landed herself in this time.

Judging by the sky, she was no longer in Johanna’s residence.

She had spent quite a while in the void between realms, having floated in nothingness for hours before she arrived at the destination she was meant for. It had absorbed the light that escaped her, healing the cracks that took over half of her body.

Around her, Y/N could see the very familiar plane of the Dreaming. She sat on the wooden pier, the fog no longer as thick as the last time she visited. 

“Ma’am?” a voice called, and the figure of Lucienne cautiously approached her from several feet away.

Y/N’s eyes brimmed with unshed tears. Her body was wracked with silent sobs, hiccuping frequently as she tried to swallow her cries, her breathing getting worse as her now-healed hand became pale with how tightly she gripped her arm. 

Lucienne had just seen the Dream Lord leave to begin his search for his tools, and she was on her way to get him a raven despite his disapproval, when she heard a thump near the edge of the pier. 

Aside from Morpheus, there was only one who dressed so similarly. 

It was apparent to Lucienne that Y/N had come back, but by the looks of it, her usual enthusiasm upon arriving was no longer present. 

“Ma’am?” Lucienne asked once more, softer, as she kneeled beside Y/N and placed a firm but gentle hand on her shoulder. 

As Y/N looked into Lucienne’s eyes, she began to understand what the librarian was so afraid of when they last met; she remembered her reflection in Johanna’s window.

How did she look as she sat there, weeping from the pain and uncertainty of who or what she might be? Was she still the same Y/N that belonged to the human realm? Or has she embodied her form in the glass?

She brought her knees up to her chest, curling into herself as she tried to even her breathing, unable to respond to Lucienne. 

A part of her hoped that Lucienne did not fear her anymore, but another part wanted to tell her to stay away. 

Y/N saw how the light burnt Johanna, how it caused her pain, and it was the kind of hurt she wanted away from the Dreaming. 

“What happened, ma’am? Are you okay?”

When Y/N kept quiet, Lucienne gingerly moved her hand to hold the one Y/N was keeping tightly against her chest. There was a look of sincere kindness on her face as she patiently waited for her to speak. 

Y/N had not known it then, but Lucienne would have waited days if it meant letting her talk when she was ready. 

She choked back a sob. Y/N, though she never knew Lucienne to be cruel, expected her to run from her considering their last encounter. Then, she was considered a threat. 

And now, Y/N believed she still was. 

Lucienne softly squeezed her hand. “You are in the Dreaming, ma’am. You know nothing will harm you here.”

Not then, at least. Lucienne did not know what would become of her once the Dream Lord came back, but until then, she spoke true. 

And if Morpheus wished to punish her, he would have to answer to the rest of the Dreaming’s inhabitants. 

Y/N only seemed to cry louder, and just when Lucienne was ready to sit with her for however long she needed, Y/N wrapped her arms around the librarian, embracing her with as much strength as she could muster. 

Hesitantly at first, Lucienne reciprocated,

As Y/N attempted to utter her next words, Lucienne wrapped her arms a little tighter around the weeping girl.

It seemed that it was all she needed to be able to admit what she could not for the longest time. 

“I don’t know what’s happening to me.”

It was then that Lucienne realized that though Y/N was all grown, despite all the years that had passed, Y/N was truly just a human unfortunate enough to have been given powers she was never made to understand. 

This version of her, the one who had exerted such control over a realm not her own, was still as innocent as the little girl who wandered the halls of the palace years ago.

Notes:

Aaaaand we're done for this chapter! What did you guys think? I would love to know.

Like last time, I'll *try* to upload again in two weeks. But of course, if the word count ends up being 16k again, it's going to take longer.

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