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paradiseinaverno · 2 years

Note

hi! I love your works sm do you accept requests? if yes, then can I request a morpheus x y/n where the reader gets jealous over dream's past lovers?

my eclipsed sun

summary; a chance encounter with your lover’s sibling leaves you full of doubt. you are utterly broken down; and morpheus knows exactly why.

morpheus x gn!reader, perhaps overtly angsty, maybe influenced by taylor swift, no tw’s needed (i think?), established relationship, human reader, tw desire and dream sibling beef as always

masterlist

It wasn’t often that Morpheus willingly departed his beloved realm.

After the incident with Burgess, he preferred to spend time within the Dreaming, perhaps as compensation. Years of his absence had left his world a crumbling carcass of what it once was. Yet, he was not simply a man who could tend to his rose garden whenever he willed. He was an Endless; beyond a deity, beyond a mere mortal. And, as said, great power requires great responsibility. Being Lord of Dreams meant keeping balance with the rest of his siblings.

When Desire called, for reasons unbeknownst to even Morpheus, it was as if someone had cast a dark cloud around the Dreaming. The realm suffered little, but its ruler seemed to be suffering with a torment not even Lucienne could diagnose. Morpheus became distant for the weeks leading up to the anticipated meeting with his sibling; it was as if nightmares had finally infiltrated his own mind.

It was you who had convinced him to attend to his sibling, for you knew far too much of the rift that develops between them. Your own brother had been effectively silent, and each day that passed left you wondering what could have been. To your surprise, he had requested you accompany him.

It wasn’t that you doubted Morpheus held affection for you. It was that he was never expressive with it. There were times, of course there were times, where you were sure of it. When you felt the tenderness in his voice, the imperceptible glimmer in his eye when he gazed at you.

And even now, as you both sit in Desire’s glossy abode, you’re only aware of the firm, yet barely noticeable, grip he has on your hand. You’re at a table, or perhaps what could be describe as one. The entirety of this realm seems abstract to the untrained eye of mortals. No doubt there is a system to be seen here; but it was not one your mind could comprehend.

The air is thick. There’s an uneasiness that has settled in your bones since you arrived, and you aren’t quite sure if it’s you, or the air around Desire. Whatever it is, the entity is entirely comfortable, preferring to practically float around the room. You and your lover, on the other hand, are perhaps the only firm things in here, cemented to the spot you were directed to upon arrival. It’s a long time before anyone speaks.

“Brother, dearest. Aren’t you going to introduce me?”

You’re startled. Desire’s voice is pure velvet, draping itself around you. Whatever discomfort you felt previously has been replaced with what you can only describe as pure honey; melting, manipulating itself into your bones, soothing your blood and nerves with sticky-sweet comfort. You don’t even have to look to your left to know that Morpheus’ jaw has tightened; the briefest of squeezes on your hand tells you enough. Sometimes it surprises you, how well you know him. It is as if your entire being was made for him, only.

He introduces you to each other. You can’t miss the way Morpheus speaks your name, tumbling from his tongue, birthing you into a new life with a mere mention. Perhaps it’s because you’re in the presence of literal desire personified, or because you feel so deeply, but your heart swells with unspoken fondness. Attachment, maybe. Whatever it is, whatever the reason, you can tell Desire has picked up on it, the way the Endless’ face grows ripe with joy, and perhaps a flicker of something else. You don’t realise the motive until later, when your lover has been called to attend an important matter. You stay in the vinyl-red room.

Far too occupied with the interior, you almost don’t notice the silky presence beside you until a a soft hand reaches for your face. Caught off guard, you reel back slightly, only to calm as you gaze into Desire’s golden eyes.

“It’s been a while since I’ve met any of my brother’s lovers,” Desire purrs, one hand cupping your face. The uneasy feeling has returned to you; but coupled with the honeyed aura of the entity in front of you, nausea begins to brew in the pit of your stomach.

“Lovers?” You question. It’s a futile one. Of course he’s had other lovers; haven’t you? But he’s never spoken of them. Never divulged any information beyond what he feels for you. Suddenly, you feel incredibly small.

There’s an almost-grin on Desire’s face. Almost, because the only other discernible emotion you can see is pity. You’d been warned, by Morpheus, of his sibling’s shifty nature. But this, to you, seems genuine, cemented only by the comforting hand that Desire rests on your own. “Oh, he’s had many lovers, darling. You’re not the first. You won’t be the last.”

It’s said so matter-of-factly. There will be others. There will be other loves, as the rides will turn, as night will turn to day, and then night again.

You’ve never been a person who cries. Not in front of people, at least. But you can feel the lump in your throat, something that never settles even as you leave this place. Even Desire’s eyes are burned into your mind; golden, pooling with pity, perhaps not out of genuine empathy but born from a regard for your naive humanity.

Oh, you hate it.

You hate that you still dwell on these words for weeks after. Morpheus returns to some semblance of visible joy; you, though, stay stuck in a dark rut. Everything you do is done half-heartedly. Each book you put back in Lucienne’s presence juts out from the bookshelf. Matthew notices your despondency as he informs you of the waking world. You lay in bed most days, or look out of the balcony. Despondent.

Distant.

The only thing you find some enthusiasm in is Morpheus past. Whenever you aren’t caught up in your own thoughts, you’re utterly obsessed with finding out his. Desire had mentioned a few names, before you left; and those names now become your purpose. Calliope, Nada…countless others, sprawled across pages, burned into your memory. Queens and goddesses, lords and beings not even comprehensible by human logic.

You aren’t sure entirely what it is that has defiled your thoughts. Have Desire’s doubts truly permeated your mind? Oh he’s had many lovers, darling. You’re not the first. You won’t be the last.

It’s true, you realise, sorrowfully. Mankind only lives for so long; lifespans so short, in fact, that they seemed only a blink of an eye to the Endless. Bitterly, you smile. Love, indeed. What love was it for him, to last a few years?

You aren’t clueless. Morpheus is a deity; no, more than that. He is beyond fathomable concepts, and ideas, and beliefs. He is more than a mere man. Here is a being who has loved muses, and goddesses, and inhumans before you. And there you are, a mortal. Insignificant, unworthy…irrelevant.

That is exactly how he finds you, later; on the balcony of your shared room, hands planted on either side of you, overlooking the realm. You can feel his presence, of course you can. You’d know him anywhere. You’d thank every atom that shared his presence, if you could. But you don’t turn around. You can’t bear to.

It’s almost as if he can hear the torment inside your mind. Tenderly, he reaches a hand out to you, fingers curled to brush your face. But you cannot bear to be around him. You cannot bear to feel this touch. There is more than just insecurity inside you; your insides are burning with jealousy. You simply cannot bear the thought of any other soul, living or dead, touching him the way you have, knowing his lips like you do, feeling him as you do. Your jaw tightens.

“I’d like to be alone right now, Lord,” the words tumble from your lips. But there is a cool air in your tone that surprises even you; and your lover, too.

He doesn’t speak yet, only comes to your side. His eyes are burning a hole into the side of your face, you can feel it, but you do not relent. Your gaze is planted firmly on whatever you can see in front of you.

“Why?” He asks. It almost sounds like a plea. What would he plead from you, you think? What would he require? What could you give him?

Silence settles around you, cooling into a thick wall. He makes another effort to reach for you, but once again, you back away. Morpheus settles for resting his hand next to yours. He isn’t touching you, but you can feel every movement he makes; he’s that close. Every atom in your body begs to relent, to have mercy on yourself, to touch him. And perhaps it is your pride, that fatal flaw of humanity, that forbids you from it. The other fatal flaw of humans; forgetfulness. He may be King of Dreams and Nightmares - but where do they dwell? The subconscious. And, because you are human, because you forget, he finds himself slipping into your mind. He never intended to. But there has always been something about you that has drawn him in. From your first meeting, you had the Dream Lord utterly under your spell. It was your complete authenticity, your vitality, that drew him to you. You were so unlike any other human, no, being, that he had met; so full of human joy and kindness, but there was an air about you that seemed almost brilliantly…alien.

The Lord of Revelations has an unpleasant one when he enters your mind. He is filled with despair, instantly. Had you truly been so blind to his affections for you? Or perhaps had he been blind to your sorrow? All these names, all his past lovers. He had kept them quiet, perhaps out of his own pride too, but because they were in the past. You were his present, and he hoped, his future. Morpheus had learned not to dwell on the past in these past years trapped. But avoidance is not acceptance. Full of regret, he turns to you. You weren’t like the others. He loved them, as he did you, that was undeniable. But you were his present, and he could not watch you slip through his fingers too.

“My love,” he begins. There’s a fresh softness in his voice that you’ve never heard before. It’s like a summer breeze. It’s unbearable.

You turn to him, gaze staying on the horizon.

“Look at me, my love,” he pleads, the smallest of wavers in his voice. Your eyes swell with tears; reluctantly, you turn to him.

You understand why people find inspiration in dreams clearly now. In the light of this dying sun, he looks utterly, tragically, beautiful. The setting rays gleam on his pale skin, shining like soft dawn snow. He looks perfectly composed, but the faintest red rim around his eyes tells you everything. He’s sorry.

“Morpheus,” your voice comes out as a whisper. But the mere mention of his name from your lips gives him hope.

He speaks. “I have been neglectful of you. I have forgotten that you are mortal. My sentiments are perhaps too cold.”

Your heart sinks. “That…That’s the problem.”

He furrows his brows. You continue, the pressure building in your chest, threatening to burst.

“I am mortal. I’m not like you. I’m not a god, a royal, I’m…I am painfully human, Morpheus. Don’t you understand? It’s never been just me. It’ll never be just me. Do you know how painful it is to love someone who has loved so many times? To know that one day I’ll die, and you’ll find someone else? That I’ll never be the la-”

The words stay unfinished, because in an instant, Morpheus pulls you close to him. You can feel the faint beating of your own heart. The sound of your soft sobs become more prominent as the tears flow freely, into his chest. A part of you screams that you shouldn’t be doing this, shouldn’t be crying into his chest; but the stronger part of you wonders what you should be doing anyway. And despite it all, despite the despair, it feels so good to sob into him, to be held in his arms, to feel his hands cradling your head.

“Your humanity never bothered me, nor was it a factor.”

His quiet voice fills itself into your being, sapping away your sadness every moment he speaks.

“Do you really think me so vain, that I would only love a status? Y/n,” he breaks away to look at you, hands cupping your face, “Not for a moment have I compared you to anyone in my past. They are my past. You are now. You are what keeps me here.”

You swallow thickly. He continues. “I would never forget you, even in death. Do you think so little of the love I bear you, that I would simply carry on? You destroy me with each tear. You are my death.”

“Don’t say that,” you mutter weakly, your hands desperately trying to find his own. Any cold air you had for him is gone. You just want your lover.

“It is true. You are my undoing. I…For once, I fear I may not have the words to describe the enormity of what I truly feel for you.”

It’s enough. His words are enough. The faintest rays of sun smoke through, dimly illuminating the balcony the two of you stand on. And it’s enough. The conviction with which Morpheus speaks is telling. You lean into him, pressing into his neck, arms encircling each other.

“I’m sorry, too,” you whisper into his ear. You feel him shake his head.

“There is nothing to apologise for.”

There’s a soft silence between the two of you, perhaps making up for weeks worth of distance. You’ve never thought much of comfortable silence, until now; and you’re grateful that the two of you can just enjoy each other’s presence, because words might fail you.

“What brought this on you?” Your lover wonders aloud. His voice vibrates in his throat, and you smile softly at its depth. How you missed this voice.

“It’s nothing. Just something Desire said when we were leaving. I’m sure your sibling didn’t mean it like that…I think I just have a tendency to let these things get into my head…”

You continue talking, but you’re unaware of the way Morpheus’ jaw tightens as you do. Desire…so once again, his siblings were interfering in his affairs.

“Me and mine…” He trails off, and you tilt your eyes up to look at him, cocking your head to the side.

“Hmm?”

“Nothing, my love.”

He leans down to press a soft kiss on your mouth. It’s more than tender, this time. His kiss is soft, yes, but there’s a desperation behind it, something you can perhaps describe as purely restrained rage. When you pull away, there’s a fire in his eyes that both terrifies and excites you.

You’ve missed him. You’ve missed this. Hungrily, you pull his head down for another kiss, fingers twisting themselves between his dark hair.

What you can’t miss, however, is the honeyed spark of desire that fills the air as he carries you to the bed.

——

end.

——

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@stygianoir @liv-n @whovian378 @ultimatreality

a/n ; for some reason i can never quite be satisfied with this, no matter how many times i rewrite. please let me know your thoughts! i am so grateful for every piece of feedback i receive!

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

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paradiseinaverno · 2 years

Note

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

in your dreams

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

“i’m telling you jo, it’s nothing.”

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

“there won’t be a next time!”

deep down, you hope there will be.

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

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

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

“oh! it’s you!”

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

“of course. i will see to it myself.”

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

“thanks, man. i appreciate that.”

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

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

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

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

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

so morpheus does something he’s never done before.

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

“why can’t you just tell them?”

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

“nice one, boss.”

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

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

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

“who?” you ask, absentmindedly.

“your sand boyfriend.”

“he’s not my boyfriend!”

oh, but how he wants to be.

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

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

it’s pride and prejudice. and the only reason he realises this is because he was there for its publication, of course (and because there’s been a strange influx of austen-adapted movie dreams lately, for some reason).

but it’s the scene that intrigues him, where darcy is walking up to you, in this case, and profoundly expressing his love.

how odd. he never would have pegged you down for such a hopeless romantic, but now he realises. he needs to be forward in his advances.

so he swallows your pride and shows up at your door the next morning, armed with nothing this time.

you answer the door hurriedly after hopping out of the shower, wearing nothing but an artfully wrapped towel, thinking it’s johanna.

it’s not. it’s a man (a man?) you are incredibly interested in, and you’re standing in front of him with wet hair and just a towel.

“could you…could you give me a minute, maybe?”

but morpheus’ usually formal tendencies have somehow vanished, and he protests.

“i need to speak to you.”

he barely waits for an answer, striding in. you practically run to shut the door, frantically looking around for something to preserve any shred of modesty you have left. that towel is slipping and you give yourself maybe five minutes before all hell breaks loose.

“y/n.”

“morpheus?”

to your utter horror, he launches into a speech you find all too familiar.

“-you have bewitched me, body and soul, and i-”

“were you spying on me?”

you’re seething. is this some sort of joke? does he mean to insult you? does he find humour in dreams that bring you some semblance of joy?

“i…”

“you have no right to peer into my dreams. that is personal. i don’t give a shit if you’re the king of dreams, you let me have that! let me live my dreams in peace!”

you’re all but yelling into his face, jabbing a finger into his chest. embarrassment is flaring into every atom of your being at the thought of him laughing at you. ridiculing you.

to your surprise, his own eyes burn in anger. “my apologies, but you are not exactly the easiest person to please.”

“to please?”

he groans. quite literally. the sound reverberates around the walls.

“do you have any idea how utterly exhausting it is to get in your mind? to try and win your affection? i have done everything. i have lost my dignity - i even considered asking desire for advice, all for you!” his voice penetrates into every layer of your body.

bashfully, you mutter, “why?”

if he could explode, he might have. you’ve both quietened down, a palpable tension between the two of you. the clock ticking dully is the only sound that fills the room for maybe five minutes.

“i have…i feel for you.”

“what? like pity?”

“no. listen to me. i feel for you. i have feelings for you. every moment i spend in your presence is a test of my restraint. there are no words for the boundless nature of just how deeply i feel for you. i am…i am half agony, half hope. say the word once, and i will leave you in peace. i will not interfere in your affairs, nor your dreams, again. but if there is even a glimmering semblance of affection for me, i beg you. tell me so. i cannot bear it any longer.”

oh.

you’ve never been good with words. it’s not in your nature; you’ve always left the negotiating, the diplomacy, to your sister. you’ve always been the first to act.

so when you grab morpheus’ face with your hands, eyes locked, you can feel in your gut that once again, your instinct hasn’t failed you.

you can practically hear relief filled in the sigh that escapes morpheus’ lips, a wordless plea pooling in his eyes, mouth begging to be savoured with everything you have in you. so tenderly, you press your lips to his.

it’s heaven. months, of pure restraint and long-awaited hope pour into the kiss, settle into your bones, wrap around the two of you. in fact, it’s almost like you both become one, so deeply are you melded together. kissing morpheus is like being filled with every star in the cosmos; like light and dark themselves, simultaneously.

when you finally break apart, you can’t help the smile that spreads on your face, and neither can he.

he looks at you eyes full of wonder, lips lightly swollen from the kiss. you’re wrapped in his arms, and his neck is woven in between your own arms.

“nice way to sneak austen in there, casanova. i thought the lord of dreams would have been original about that stuff.”

he pulls you closer, your head nestling into the crook of his neck. “i might have been very loosely inspired.”

you hum softly. “what a shame. you owe her an apology.”

morpheus shakes his head, and you feel a low chuckle build in his throat.

“in her dreams.”

——-

TAGLIST;

@liv-n

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-orion

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

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