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hunny-beann · 5 months

Note

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

Rest Now, Wife, Mine

Dream of the Endless x f!Reader

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

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

Thankfully, he is all too happy to oblige.

Warnings: None! Just pure and unbridled fluff :)

Word Count: 1,298

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

What a disastrous little thing she was, truly.

He could never love another.

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

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

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

"You are tired, my dear."

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

He chuckled quietly, shaking his head,

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

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

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

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

He frowned.

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

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

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

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

"You just what, dearest?"

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

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

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

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

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

"Poor thing,"

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

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

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

"Rest now, wife, mine."

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

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

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

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

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

ao3 link

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paradiseinaverno · 2 years

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

playing with morpheus’ hair (gn!reader)

thank you for the ask !

lowercase intended

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

“you like when i touch your hair?”

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

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

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

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

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

oh matthew would love to hear about this, she thinks

you almost convince him to let you braid it.

“it must be long enough!”

“absolutely not.”

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

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

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

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barbiedragon · 10 months

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

Brb I'm crying over this 🥺

WC: 700

*comments/reblogs are appreciated

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

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

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

This dream is over

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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preciouslandmermaid · 2 years

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|throne| - morpheus x reader

Note: All kinktober content is mature/explicit. Fics will be posted on Tumblr first, then transition over to ao3. All fics will be reader/canon-character with no use of Y/N. I will do my best to include additional warnings, but most should be self explanatory in the prompts.

prompt: face-sitting | pairing: morpheus/f!reader | warnings: explicit sexual content.

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

His long, ivory fingers unlace the front of your dress with methodical care. You are here, in the Dreaming, resting upon his black sheets of an entirely too-large bed. Your palms twitch at your sides and your chest flutters like a hummingbird when Dream pins you with his eternal, heated gaze.

He says, “You are doing so well, my love.”

His touch is gentle and fleeting, peeling the thin, white dress off your shoulders and letting it fall to the floor with a whisper of silk. Your thighs squeeze together beneath his appraising look. Every glance, every faint touch, burns into your skin like wildfire. He has asked you not to move, not to touch him, and you have obeyed for what feels like centuries.

Morpheus drops his lips to yours, kissing you slowly, and you feel his hum of pleasure reverberate through his chest. You arch your back, fingers clutching the sheets, and your peaked nipples scrape against the soft wool of his sweater. You gasp at the new, delicious sensation and Dream takes the opportunity of your parting lips to delve his tongue between them. He kisses you like it is the last thing he’ll ever do. His tongue strokes into your mouth with languid, playful motions, sucking your lower lip between his, and drinking in your soft mewls.

Your cunt throbs, your body writhes with longing, as he braces himself above you.

“I want to touch you.” You whine when you have a moment’s reprieve. His lips quirk into a semblance of a smile. You are in the Dreaming only until your alarm jolts you awake. You don’t want to waste any time.

“I know.” He breathes, his hand traveling from the side of your ribcage to your hip, before he parts your legs with a single, large hand. His knuckles brush along your clit in a faint, barely-there touch and you whimper.

“There is something I want as well.” He drops the mental image—his fantasy—into your mind like a coin tossed into a wishing well. Your body prickles with heat and awareness and desire. You nod slowly in consent.

His lanky, dark body prowls over you, his hands light and tempting, before he rolls onto his back with glimmering, mischievous eyes. You nervously bite your lip, heartbeat hammering in your ears, and straddle Dream’s narrow hips.

He nudges you with his palms flat on your ass, “Higher, love.” His deep, rumbling voice causes a shiver down your spine. You shuffle forward until his head is between your thighs and you wrap your hands around the twisted, ivy-shaped iron of his headboard. You tentatively lower yourself and his breath ghosts across your sensitive skin.

“Here?” You rasp, nerves and excitement bubbling in your veins like fine champagne.

“Here.” He hums with contentment. The first touch of his tongue along your folds makes you gasp, and you jump, surprised, but Dream’s hands are on your hips and refusing to let you go. He starts slow with teasing, warm licks across your lips. You quiver above him with your hips jerking involuntarily.

You peek down at him and discover his eyes are closed, dark eyelashes kissing his pale cheeks, his wild hair like a shadow of dark feathers tickles your thighs. His hands drift from your hips to the swell of your ass, kneading and squeezing, keeping your cunt pressed against his mouth. His tongue slides into you and you both hear and feel his groan of wanton enjoyment.

Dream speaks directly into your mind; ‘I will never tire of the taste of you.’

Your eyes roll back into your head, seeing stars, and the Dreaming deepens with a rich, silver color—like moonlight. Morpheus works his mouth over your clit, sucking and laving, feasting on you with rumbles of pleasure. He holds you firmly in place as your knuckles whiten around iron-wrought leaves. Your thighs and arms tremble, shaking and pulsing with need, chasing that inevitable, brilliant release that only he can give you.

You are panting, glistening with sweat, and resisting the urge to hump into his face. His mouth draws away from you and a soft, begging “Morpheus,” slips from your lips. He does not verbally respond and nibbles along your inner thigh. Fine. If he is going to play games, then you are going to break his rules.

Selfishly, you plunge a hand between your legs, and fist a handful of his inky, soft hair. His eyes snap open and they burn with white-hot heat.

“I’ve been good.” You say with a pout. You card your fingers through his hair, stroking him like a big, predatory cat. It is such a marvel that the Lord of Dreams has such gentle, tender places. His hair, the curve of his throat, the space between his long fingers. You long to discover them all.

He hums, “You have.”

He returns to his ministrations between your legs with fervent intensity. His tongue works over you in restless, determined strokes and your spine buckles forward and you tighten your grasp in the root of his hair. The Dreaming ripples with molten, gold light and it glistens on your sweat-soaked skin. Your heart pounds, roaring in your ears, as your stomach clenches and your thighs quiver.

You come and a raw and guttural cry is ripped from your throat. Morpheus drinks in your sounds, your release, his hands pinning you to him and squeezing your buttocks. You sag, boneless, pressing your face into the cold metal of his headboard. Dream moves you with gentle, yet strong hands, guiding you to nudge your leg aside and lay on your back against the comfortable, silk sheets. You blink blearily up at him and your skin prickles at the sight of his mouth and chin shiny with your release. He strokes his fingertips along your temple to the curve of your jaw. His eternal blue eyes regard you with open affection.

He says, “Do you wish to continue?”

You nod almost drowsily, “Yes, please.”

His gaze stokes a new, hot flame inside your abdomen. This a dream you never wish to wake from.

#morpheus x reader #morpheus x fem!reader #dream of the endless fic #kinktober 2022 #dream of the endless x you #dream x reader #dream of the endless x reader #the sandman x reader #sandman fanfic #kinktober2022comp

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eviesaurusrex · 1 year

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“Does the Sandman dream himself? And if he does, does he have sweet dreams, like with Hob Gadling?”

“How sweet are we talking? 👀”

[And then I couldn’t understand the follow-up question because everyone was still laughing, but it was something about “[…] family like most of us do?”]

“Honestly, I don’t think he does dream. Because I don’t think he sleeps. Uhm, I think that his responsibility is to the collective unconsciousness of the universe and that never stops. And every waking moment, he is fighting to preserve the safety of our dreams. So unfortunately, he does not have time for his own.” — Tom Sturridge

You can be so damn sure that I will write something about this because Morpheus deserves a bit of rest of his world-preserving duties 🥺❤️

You even get my video because I’m generous 👀❤️

#tom sturridge #morpheus #lord morpheus #lord dream #dream of the endless #dream #lord morpheus fanfic #lord morpheus fic #lord morpheus fanfiction #the sandman netflix #the sandman #the sandman fic #the sandman fanfic #the sandman fanfiction #dream of the endless fanfic #dream of the endless fic #comic con

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flightlessangelwings · 1 year

Text

pulling your lover closer by the waistband

Dream of the Endless x gn!reader (no use of y/n)

Word count- 600

Warnings- established relationship, protectiveness, hint of spice

Notes- Requested by @weareallbrokenangels for my 4k follower event! Thanks so much for the request! I wasn’t expecting to get multiple Dream requests but I loved writing them! Enjoy!

To stay up to date on when I post, follow my update blog and turn on post notifs @flightlessangelwings-updates

You let out a heavy sigh as you closed your door and set your things down. It had been a long day, and it was late into the evening when you finally made it home. You felt like you carried the weight of the world along with your coat, and when you took it off and hung it, a wave of relief washed over you.

The house was dark, and you thought you were alone as you hummed to yourself. But, the sound of a throat clearing made you gasp. “Who's there?” you called into the darkness.

Carefully, you tiptoed forward and flicked on a light, and when you saw the shadowy figure in the corner, your shoulders dropped in relief, “Morpheus,” you breathed, “You scared me.”

He let out a short huff as a hint of a smile flashed on his face, “I’m sorry, my love,” his low voice went right to your core, “I hadn’t heard from you…” I got worried…

Your heart fluttered in your chest as Morpheus closed the distance between your bodies, “I had to work late,” you explained, “I didn’t mean to make you worry,” you scanned his figure up and down as heat rose in your body.

Morpheus’ gaze bore into you as he reached for you and cupped your face, crading you tenderly, “I always worry, love,” he murmured.

“Morpheus…” you whispered his name as you hooked your finger on his belt loop, “Let’s make up for lost time then, shall we?” you smirked as you tugged him closer until he was flush against your body.

“Eager are we?” he teased as he ghosted his lips over yours.

“Just kiss me already.”

He hummed as his lips crashed into yours. You clung to his coat as his tongue dove into your mouth. Eagerly, you parted your lips for Morpheus and welcomed him into your mouth, your heart and your soul. All the stresses of the day melted away with his kiss. In fact, the entire world melted away and it felt like all that excited in that moment was him.

It had been far too long since Morpheus had felt like this about anyone. The feeling of having you in his arms and against his lips compared to nothing else. He practically felt the warmth that you radiated when you smiled at him, and it made his heart flip in his chest.

Reluctantly, you broke away for a breath of air, but your face never felt Morpheus’ own. You rested your forehead against his as you took in a deep breath and sighed contently when he wrapped his arms around you. For several moments, neither of you moved, too content in the other’s embrace. Even with your eyes closed, you felt the soft smile on Morpheus’ face and it made your heart skip a beat.

“So,” you broke the silence, “How was your day?” you joked.

He let out a short laugh that you wouldn’t have heard had you not been right up against him, “Fine,” the normality of the conversation felt so foreign to him, yet it felt so natural at the same time, “Better now that you’re here, my love.”

You couldn’t help but giggle, “Who knew the King of Dreams had such a cheesy side!”

“I resent that,” Morpheus said with no hint of actual malice in his voice.

“Don’t” you replied as you placed a soft kiss on his lips, “I like it,” your tone was soft as you nuzzled in his embrace, “How about we head upstairs then?”

Morpheus smirked, “Lead the way, my love.”

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

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madwomansapologist · 9 months

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hello everything is fine ?,

I saw your requests are open could you make an imagine with morpheus x reader where s/o want a baby "I want a baby, Morpheu." you whisper: "Your baby if you want it".

wandering to Her (or: expending the family with morpheus)

synopsis: You fear death. I mean, you love Death, but you fear dying. But after spendind a day with her, seeing her taking those who fallen and talking to those who were just born, you understood more about life than you could ever imagine. You understood why you love to dream, and then you realized something that you have never thought about before. You understood that you wanted immortality. The true one. [1K]

warnings: talking about death with Death. i've cried writing this so be aware.

ps: thanks for your request! i don't really know if he can have kids, didn't read the comics yet, so this is all speculation. it was supposed to be a headcanons, but i got emotional. i'm warning everyone: i'm one neil gaiman's post away from rewatching the whole show. hope you enjoy it!

It all start with Death. As usual.

With her, time didn't seem to work. It always went by too fast, while at the same time everything took too long to happen. She has this singular orbit. A gravity of her own.

Death is so different from what you expected. She's kind. She's patient. She's loving. She cares. Death isn't fighting to conquer more souls or anything you could've imagine she would want. She's not fighting, because they'll eventually be hers. It's easy to be aware of your own mortality when she's around.

And maybe that's why you invited yourself to spend a day with Death. You wanted to see how it was that last moment. What Death said, if she said anything at all. How people reacted. You were curious. What is death if not time acting on beings? It was a morbid curiosity, but a valid one.

"You already knew I talked to humans when they're born," Death caresses the baby's little fingers. So tiny, so soft, so singular. A being that don't know pain, wickedness, suffering. A being that need to be protected. "I've told you."

You approached the crib. Your hand pushed against the wood, swaying slightly. It was instinctual. You rocked him without even realizing it. You sniffled. "You remember what you said to me?"

At moments like this you remember how old she is. No matter how young she looks, no matter how good she is to talk to, Death is older than you will ever be able to comprehend. And she will be the last of her siblings to leave. Endless, until she's no more.

"After I breath live into you," Death whispered to not awake the babies on the maternity. If your time with Morpheys taugh you something it's that time isn't that different for the Endless. They feel it just like a human would. But you knew Death would remember. You really did. "I've told you to not fear me. I've told you to embrace me. I've told you, my dear friend, that life's destiny is death. And I warned that if you wanted to live, you would need to be willing to die. That every step you made takes you closer to me. That every book you read, every tear you cry, every friend you lost, every car you scratch, every password you forgot: you're making your way to me."

And so you realized why Dream and Death are so close. Dying is terrifying. Ceasing to exist one day without really understanding the reason for it. But to dream... The will to accomplish the things we dream of is greater than the fear of the end. It is Dream that makes us accept Death. And suddenly it's no longer about ceasing to exist one frightening day, but about existing until a fateful one.

Someone, in a past so far away that you can't even understand, decided that it was worth going on. Someone decided that a long hug was worth more than a downpour. Someone decided that talking to a lover was worth more than an earthquake. Someone decided that every disease, every evil, every pain, every tomb, every fear, every fate: everything was worth less when compared to what life has to offer.

Because someone made that choice, and then it's child, and it's child, and it's child, your grandma was born. And because she made the same decision, because she made the choice of dealing with the tumultuous in hope of something better, your mom war born. And because she made the same decision all the ancestors you remember and all the ancestors you can't even imagine did, you were born.

And isn't it what you're doing since the beginning? Choosing the hope of something better instead of the certainty of the end? Since you were eight you knew everyone dies. It took you more time to understand that it was really true. And then, since that moment, you knew what it was to be human: to be always sad because you're always aware of the end, but to choose to ignore this feeling so you can go on.

The baby sighed. He slept. He looked happy. He looked peaceful. He looked ready to be taken care of, loved and embraced. Ready to see his parents, his grandparents, his uncles. Ready to understand that he has a body, that he has a mind, and that the two are not so different from what it seems. Ready to walk, cry, love, lose, freak out, dance, sing, live. He looked ready. And so you understood that you were ready too.

"Go," Death took your hands into hers and kissed your knuckles. "Be brave."

You don't know how she knew, but you felt welcomed. You felt seen and understood. So you let Death finish her job, and went back to his realm.

To the realm of dreams and nightmares. The realm of joys and sorrows. Of fears and desires. The realm that once glowed and then decayed with the passing of its lord. For the realm that survived, proving once again that it would always survive.

You found him in the library. It must be a good day. A day without great tasks. You approached trying not to make any noise. Before you could startle him, Morpheus scared you.

"You little shit," you carressed your chest. "You want to kill me?"

Morpheus chuckled. When his velvet voice came to your ears, the fear had already dissipated. "Accept it," his tone was mischievous, but Morpheus' hold you so gently. He stroked your skin. "You lost the ability to surprise me."

You closed your eyes when he kissed your forehead, leaning towards him. Morpheus is so warm. His voice is so tender. His love is so palpable. "I want a baby, Morpheus."

"I take it back," Morpheus kissed your forehead again. He didn't pull his lips away. When Morpheus opened them again, it was as if he spoke with your mind. "As you wish."

And that, the choice to ignore certainty and dream with possibilities, is true immortality.

GENERAL TAGLIST: @suakemi @notanalienindisguiseblink

if you enjoyed, please reblog! i promise it makes a difference ♡

@ madwomansapologist.tumblr.

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redskull199987 · 1 year

Text

Friend

Morpheus x male!reader Request

Words:1.2k

Warnings:none

Summary: You're working for Alex Burgess. As you hear him and his husband talking about a person in the basement, you decide to go check it for yourself...

Requested by Hideto-san on Wattpad

Masterlist

I was striding around the house of Mr. Burgess. He had given me the day off, but since I was his personal servant, my presence could be requested at any time. Nevertheless, I had nothing to do with my time.

I spend the majority of the day reading or taking walks in the garden.

I was sitting on the stairs, as I thought about what I could do when I started to hear yelling.

I furrowed my eyebrows and slowly got up. The yelling got louder and I realized that it was Mr. Burgess and his Husband.

I was used to them fighting a little bit, but I never heard them yelling at each other.

I slowly made my way upstairs and carefully listened to the conversation. I stopped in the hall, before so rounding the corner. I was able to understand them now.

"He will kill me!! And you!!", Mr. Burgess yelled.

"We can't keep him in there forever!", his Husband answered, a little bit quieter.

"It's useless, I will talk to him. I can't riskyou getting hurt!"

"He can't stay in the basement forever, Alex! And you know that!"

I cursed under my breath, as I accidentally knocked over a statue, that was standing on the shelf next to me. I caught it just in time and put it back, but the couple had heard me and stopped talking.

I quickly ran back downstairs, but I didn't stop there. I immediately made my way to the basement.

I had heard all kinds of rumors of course. But I never believed that Mr. Burgess actually kept someone in the basement. And not just anyone, an eternal being, as the rumors said.

Almost out of breath, I stopped in front of the corner that lead to the basement.

I leaned forward and peaked around. The first thing I saw was a giant glass bowl it looked like an overdimensional fish bowl.

The next thing I saw was a desk with two people sitting in front of it, but as I looked closely, I saw that they were both asleep.

I took a step forward and carefully entered the room.

Only now, I noticed the strange symbols that were drawn in the ground, but that wasn't the strangest thing.

What was even more surprising, was the man lying in the glass bowl.

He looked at me for a second but he didn't move an inch. He had his head leaned on his arms and was staring at the ground.

I slowly walked around the bowl. Only now I noticed, that he wasn't wearing any clothes and he looked very pale, unhealthy even.

I started to wonder who he was and if he had done anything to deserve to be in here.

"What could anyone do to deserve this?", I said to myself. I didn't know if the man heard what I said. But he didn't move, so I kneeled down in front of him.

"No one deserves this", I mumbled and Raised my hand to carefully touch the glass.

I could've imagined it, but it looked like the man's eyes softened at my words.

I watched as he slowly raised his hand to put his fingers where mine were laying in the other side of the glass.

I heard shifting behind me and turned around. I saw that one of the guards was about to wake up. I quickly got up.

"I will come back. I promise", I whispered to the man and granted him a smile, before turning around and quickly leaving the basement. I felt like, this was the start of a good friendship...

I was on my way home from work, as I got the message, that Alex Burgess had died in his sleep. To be honest, I couldn't say that I was shocked, after all he was an old man who had lived his life. My he rest in peace.

Nevertheless, I was wondering if it had something to do with the man in the basement. Over the last few months, I had befriended the strange creature. He never talked to me, but he always listened. I started with explaining to him, what had happened over the last 100 years and after a while I started reading to him. He even started to sit up, whenever I visited him.

And after Mr. Burgess had caught us once, I thought that it was over, but as he noticed that the man reacted to me, he decided that I was now officially allowed to visit him. He told me that he was the ruler of the Dreaming, the so-called "Sandman".

At first I didn't believe his words, but after researching a little bit. It all made sense. The sleeping disease, the year he was captured, the fact that he didn't age at all. It all fitted perfectly.

I sighed as I opened the door to my apartment. I was wondering if he got out eventually and killed Burgess or if he was still in his bowl and if he was, what would happen to him now.

I was too lazy to turn on the lights, as I entered my kitchen. A few seconds later, I wished I had turned it on. I bumped into something hard, presumably a person.

I yelped and jumped back, my hand flew to the light switch and I gasped as I saw wvo was standing there In front of me.

It was him, the sandman. But now, he was wearing an entire black attire, adorned with a large black coat.

"It's you", I whispered, "So you got out after all."

"I did."

In all the time, that I knew him, this was the first time that I heard his voice. It was a deep, smoky voice. It was nice listening to him.

"Are you going to kill me?", I gulped. After all, he had killed Burgess. At least I assumed it.

"No.", he stated and stepped closer. I slowly backed up until I felt the kitchen counter hit me.

"I came he to thank you", He mumbled and looked up, "You have been a good friend to me. I, Morpheus want to thank you."

"Morpheus", I replied, "So that's your name. It suits you."

I watched as a smile formed on Morpheus' face. I felt honored, since he looked like someone who didn't smile very often.

I watched carefully, as he raised his hand.

"May I?", he asked quietly.

I nodded and felt how he started to caress my cheek with his calloused hand. He inched closer and slowly leaned down.

"Thank you.", Morpheus mumbled again, before pressing his lips on mine. I closed my eyes, as I melted into the kiss. I could feel his thankfulness, his passion, all of his emotions were poured into this kiss and it was something that I had never felt before.

I gasped as we parted. My eyes opened and he was gone. I carefully raised my hand to touch my lips.

Morpheus was certainly something tgta I would never forget. Who knows, maybe we would meet again. Maybe not in this world, but in another...

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ursulaismymiddlename · 2 years

Text

In the Grip of Despair - Dream of the Endless x Reader

The Realm of Despair is a desolate place, but Dream always answers a formal calling

Rated T for Trigger Warning: Suicide Attempt

Thanks again @captainpoopweinersoldier for all the encouragement You know Morpheus agrees with you on so many things haha Thanks also to @whats-rambled-rambled for squealing with me as well!

“Brother, I stand in my gallery and I hold your sigil. I request an audience. Attend, Dream.”

It was not often that Morpheus heard the call of his sister Despair. She and her twin Desire were close, and as such, Dream found himself with a healthy caution when it came to either. But from his place near the heart of The Dreaming, he could not ignore the formal request. It would be… discourteous.

With little effort, he appeared in his sister’s realm. The misty mirrors and rotten doorways littered the air as ominous as any nightmare he might have created. And it was easy to follow the scurry of rodent feet as they rushed to return to their mistress, to live among her stringy hair and bite at her sallow skin.

“You called, sister?”

“Dream,” she rasped, his sigil still perched upon her worn fingers. “Thank you for heeding me.”

Morpheus shifted slightly, straightening to his full height as he looked down at her. “I presume this is no social visit. What is it you want, Despair?”

It was her turn to move, lumbering to her gallery to replace his sigil in its appropriate spot. Her snort of a chuckle held no mirth, but it also did not hold the malice he was so used to from her twin.

“Call it a professional courtesy then, brother,” she offered. A few rats squealed in protest as her feet shuffled her closer, parting them like underbrush. “Though the matter for which I am calling is a personal one.”

“Speak your piece.” Dream’s voice held all the command of his station, uninterested in being toyed with and thinking, in part, he knew what this could be about.

Despite being their sibling’s shadow, Despair was not quite so cunning as Desire. Not quite so interested in causing trouble for her older, more proper brother. She actually held quite the respect for him, especially after taking up her current mantle. Aside from Desire and The Prodigal, Dream was a close third on her list of favorites. Though she and Delirium had been growing much closer over the last centuries.

“I do not wish to take up your precious time, brother.” She turned to him, sunken eyes averted as she lifted her own sigil to tear at the skin of her cheek. “I only wanted to speak with you in regards to your lover. Your former lover.”

Dream’s jaw clenched, mouth twisting into a grimace. “That matter is not of your concern.”

The mention of you caught him off guard, a bitter taste in the back of his throat. Things had not ended on good terms. In fact, in the interest of your safety, the Dream Lord had made a quick and definitive exit, leaving no room for pleading. No room for second thoughts. He even went so far as to banish you from The Dreaming, to save both you and himself from more heartache.

“Those in my realm are of my concern,” Despair countered, turning to shuffle her way through a row of dingy wall mirrors suspended in the fog. Without needing told, he followed after her before she could disappear from sight.

Her words struck a chord in him. Morpheus had certainly quit himself of you only a handful of months ago, the thought of you still raw in his chest. But he had become too consumed by you, a mere mortal, and the closer the two of you became, the more he feared your ruin. Dream would sooner rip out his own heart than see you waste away from your place in the Waking World. See the vibrancy of your spirit worn down by the stress of loving an Endless being. And so he had done just that, ripped the beating heart from himself and left you behind. Built a wall to quell the temptation of returning to you again and again.

Though he would not dare to call you fickle, he knew that hearts of humans moved swifter than those of the Endless. He'd hoped that his feigned detachment would make things easier for you to move onto some other mortal being, no matter how it ate at him. But to know now that you resided in this desolate realm pained him.

And the pain only grew when his sister stopped in front of a familiar mirror. Even adorned with cobwebs and cracks, he recognized it. The mirror above your bathroom sink. A window into Your Despair. The sight of you alone was a stab to his heart, the blade of it twisting viciously at the dark circles and reddened rims of your eyes, the hollowness of them. The vibrancy he once so cherished had been snuffed; a desaturated gray to match his sister’s realm.

His own eyes swam, head bowing under the weight of his guilt. “Why do you show me this?”

“Because I have no quarrel with you, brother.” Despair’s voice was grit out with the sound of unshed tears from countless eons. “Desire is my twin, my mirror. But I know neither of our powers would be as great without yours. Dreams sweeten the taste of desire and turn it to ash in the mouths of those who dwell here, with me.”

The truth of her words did little to assuage his heart. Neither did the sniffle and quiet sob that drew his attention back to the mirror before him. Your fingers were wiping almost frantic at your cheeks, knuckles dragging tears from your eyes as your other shaky hand tried to steady itself around some sort of orange bottle.

“What are they doing?” Dream stepped closer to the mirror, the rats beneath his feet parting in protest. His eyes narrowed as he watched you close your eyes and take a ragged breath.

“That is why I called,” Despair crept forward to join his view. The hook of her sigil dragged along her jawline in a bloody caress as she regarded the scene before them. “Their sadness is… exquisite, but I take no pleasure in it. I thought you should have a chance before they leave my realm in search of our eldest sister.”

Dream’s gaze snapped to his sister in shock, mouth dry and his heart sinking deeper into the void of his chest. A glance back at the mirror showed you steady, resigned, reading the label on the bottle you held. Your face grim determination as your fingers moved to unfasten the lid.

“Sister?” His voice was a terrified plea.

“Go,” Despair nodded with unaccustomed encouragement. “No door is locked to you here.”

In a blink, Morpheus was gone. A swirl of black sand disintegrating into the ether. Despair plucked a rat from her shoulder to cradle in her arms as she turned away, its teeth gnawing into her ragged flesh. The rest of this story was not for her. It was up to her elders now.

—

“Stop.”

The familiar voice shuddered along your skin, stunning you to stillness even as you clutched the now-open bottle of sleeping pills. It took the breath from your lungs, it always had. But you hadn’t heard it for months now, not even in the sleep deprived recesses of your memory. You could feel as he materialized beside you, goosebumps rising on your skin. And part of you wondered if this was madness finally taking hold of you as your eyes stayed transfixed on the contents of your hands. Not daring to hope. Not daring to breathe.

A broken sob slipped past your lips as Dream’s pale hand wrapped carefully around your wrist. How long had you pined for his touch again? The soft silk of his skin along yours, even as it held you fast. Your eyes rose, first to the mirror and the sullen image of your reflection, then finally to his face. His face as pale and handsome as you could remember. Eyes dancing in the sparse light.

“You will not find my realm with these. Only the Sunless Lands await you at the bottom of this bottle.”

His voice was softer, soothing, and it ached in your chest as you sniffed. “Better there than this.. This nightmare of a waking world.”

Lord Morpheus, King of The Dreaming, proud creature that he is, lowered his head.

“I was a fool.” Pain laced his voice, and guilt. He dared meet your gaze again, closing the scant distance between you slowly, fingers plucking the bottle from your hands with little resistance as you watched him. “I’d hoped you would live a mortal life, free of the complications of my station. I thought it would protect you from further heartache.”

“You are a fool,” you spat, though the quiver of your lower lip hampered the venom of it. Pain and indignation, sadness and fear, and even relief at the sight of his face… it all warred in you. Overwhelmed you. Until all that could come out was a mournful keen as tears welled in your eyes once more. “I couldn’t even dream of you.”

Your knees buckled beneath you, but he was there. Morpheus caught you easily, strong arms pulling you into the warm softness of his jacket. Cradling you against his chest like a precious thing.

“Shhh, my love,” he murmured into the crown of your head. “I will not let you go again.”

#kati writes #dream of the endless #the sandman #netflix the sandman #Morpheus x reader #dream of the endless x reader #dream of the endless fic #morpheus fic #TW: suicide attempt

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darkened-writer · 2 years

Text

Suspirium Into Stupor─| 03

summary || ❝ Well, she sounds delightful regardless of your standing with her. ❞

pairing || Morpheus x Fem!Reader

word count || 4,164

warnings || SPOILERS FOR EPISODE 6!!!

notes || Of course, @beautifulbows924 was my beta-reader, so please go check out her fics! Other than that, my text borders keep glitching so I am only going to use them in moderation. Enjoy!

P.S. I made a Pinterest board and Spotify Playlist for this fic, just for the visuals and overall vibe of the series! Enjoy that as well!

“Hello. I’m John. I’m glad you’re here. The power has gone out. So there’s no TV, and no one left to talk to.”

“What is it you think you’re doing?”

“Saving the world from its lies.”

“The ruby wasn’t made for that.”

“...Oh…You’re the Sandman. My mother was right. She said you’d be coming for it.”

“You must return it to me so that I can repair the damage you have done.”

“I’m not giving it to you, it’s mine.”

“It is harming you, John, and your world.”

“It’s revealing the truth. This is the truth of mankind.”

“No. You’re wrong.”

Fog.

A thin sheet of it fell over the forest of oak and pine trees that surrounded you. A hill of green grass to your right, the sky just the right hue of blue to invoke a feeling of happiness within your heart. Ahead of you was a trail of sand and dirt and rocks, leading to a medieval looking church building with beautiful architecture. Lilacs painted the sides of the path like you were within a painting, the purple hue striking as the eyes of Morpheus; ones you had come to appreciate.

Maybe he was within the church?

You made your way towards the church, taking in the feeling of the sun on your skin, the leaves of the trees brushing against the skin of your bare arm. It all felt so peaceful, so truly perfect. And when you finally came to the front of the church, the stained glass shined various colors down across the green grass. The pointed ends of the stone of the church give it a look of intimidation despite the beauty.

The door creaked open, the wood of them obviously old and worn, but the inside also spoke for itself. The pulpit was broken in half, the wood of the chairs leading to it broken down except for two of them, one of the chairs already occupied by the man you were just starting to miss.

“Morpheus…”

His gaze turned to yours, his previous attention on the racing thoughts in his mind.

“Miss me?”

“Oh, don’t get all cocky with me.”

He chuckled, motioning his hand towards the empty seat directly next to him, and you promptly took a seat.

“Why a church this time around?”

“I took it from your memories, put it in a field of my creation.”

“Oh…”

No wonder it had vaguely looked familiar, it was from a memory from long ago. Going to church as a small child, hand in your mothers, grin on your face.

“I saw you at Little Nina’s shop, through the window. Was it an illusion conjured by my mind or were you really watching me?”

“Do you want to know the truth?”

“Of course, I do.”

“I was checking on you. Making sure you were alright.”

Oh.

There was a feeling of orphic between the two of you, and you nodded to yourself. There is an odd intimacy within being understood.

“You are a very confusing man, Morpheus.”

This aroused a smirk.

“Most ardently.”

The sound of pelting rain filled the inside of the rundown church, some entering due to holes within the roof. Yet, instead of getting up or ending the dream; Morpheus just grabbed your hand. His thumb rubbed the patch of skin just below your own. Your shoulders went slack at the feeling as you finally began to relax, immediately noticing how he allows himself to do the same.

“Will I see you in person soon?”

“I’m sure we will soon meet again. Until then however, I need you to stay safe.”

His eyebrows were furrowed, “I cannot risk losing someone I’ve just begun feeling an attachment to.”

A pause, a steady yet enrapturing gaze, before you dragged him up from his chair and to the outside of the church; into the rain. His wild hair now was settling into a ‘wet cat’ look, causing you to smile and him to scowl.

“Why are we in the rain?”

“Just hold me, Morpheus, and enjoy the moment while we have it.”

Your drenched form wrapped around his, causing him to involuntarily fall into you. Head on his chest, you felt the rise and fall, how his heartbeat began to quicken its pace. He was warm, and inviting, despite his ethereal, almost ghastly appearance. It took awhile, but he finally allowed his walls to fall; gripping you with an intense feeling of longing, an unspoken vow to keep you safe.

“Don’t be a stranger, Morpheus.”

“This dream is over.”

He uttered it almost as if with hesitance, and the ground swallowed you up.

The morning air caressed your cheek, almost like the cold hands of Morpheus. The drapes blowing in the wind of your open window, the sun cascading in gently.

You groan, bringing your arms and legs as far as they could go outwards in a stretch; letting out a moan of satisfaction.

The dream was still present in your mind, the feeling of Morpheus’s touch, his smile, his chuckle, even his messy locks. His chest against your cheek, arms wrapped around you with a sense of longing, it was all so daunting.

“Y/N! HEY! I BROUGHT YOU SOME SAUSAGE ROLLS!!”

Johanna pounded on the front door like a woman on a mission, having you immediately on your feet to greet her.

“I’M COMING, I’M COMING!”

The sunlight of the day was belting down across everyone at the park, many people kicking a ball around. Some people were having a picnic, but Dream was sitting upon a bench, hand filled with bread; and a flock of pigeons awaiting to be fed.

He pulls a piece of bread from the bunch, setting it on his thumb methodically to flick it in the direction of the flock. It was peaceful, putting his mind at ease about the elephant in the room. More like the woman in his dreams.

“Heads up!”

With a simple lift of his arm, he had caught the soccer ball that was barreling in the direction of his head. Impressive to the humans, very average behavior for the endless. Having peak performance was an attribute all of his family had.

“Sorry, man. Nice catch, though.”

Holding out the ball, the stranger took it back with a smile.

“Thank you.” And with a soft chuckle, the human walked away to resume his “activities”. A figure in black however strolled nonchalantly towards Dream, hands in their front pockets, catching the eye of the human for a prolonged period of time.

“Franklin. Come on, Franklin. What are you waitin’ for?”

Death.

Darling, Sister Death.

She took a seat to his left, dark and curly locks falling over her shoulder. Her Ankh necklace was gracefully laid upon her chest, the very symbol of her purpose. She was smiley however, turning her gaze to her down-trauden brother.

“What are you doin’?”

“I’m feeding the pigeons.”

“You do that too much, you know what you get? Fat pigeons.”

She was still smiling, “That’s from Mary Poppins. Did you ever see it?”

“No.”

A blond haired, rather small little girl dressed in blue barreled through the flock of pigeons, making them scatter from their feeding spot, causing a pang of annoyance within Dream. He visibly pouted; face contorted in anger.

“Okay, so what’s the matter?”

“What do you mean?”

“I can tell something’s wrong. I mean, look at you. Sittin’ here, moping, pigeon-feeding. It’s not like you.”

A deep intake of breath, “No. Perhaps it isn’t. I don’t know what’s wrong, but… You’re right. Something is the matter.”

Death adjusted in her seat, ready to hear him elaborate.

“When they captured me, I just had one thought. Vengeance. It wasn’t as satisfying as I’d expected. Meanwhile, my kingdom had fallen apart. My tools long since stolen and scattered. And so, I embarked upon a journey to find them. Which I did. I’m now more powerful than I have been in eons. And yet…”

‘I still feel like I am missing something.’

It would be hard to voice the complications of falling for yet another human woman, and yet, he knew he’d have to tell Death eventually. She was one of the most trusting of the Endless, one of the most mature also.

“Here you are, feeding the pigeons.”

“You see, until then, I’d had a true quest. A purpose beyond my function and then suddenly, it was over, and… I felt disappointed. Let down. Empty. Does that make sense? I was so sure that once I got everything back, I’d feel good. But in some ways, I feel worse than when I started. I feel like… Nothing.”

A pregnant pause, Morpheus’s gaze shifted down, “There. You asked.”

Her ringed hand was suddenly on his thigh, a comforting gesture from a sister he held near and dear to his heart.

“You could have called me, you know?”

“I didn’t want to worry you. Everything is quite complicated…-”

“Oh, I don’t believe it.”

She rolled her eyes, moving her hand off of his thigh and getting up onto her feet.

“Let me tell you something, Dream.” She grabbed the bread from his thin and nimble fingers, “And I’m only gonna say this once, so you better pay attention. You are utterly the stupidest, most self-centered, pathetic excuse for an anthropomorphic personification on this or any other plane. Feeling sorry for yourself because your little game is over and you haven’t got the balls to go out and find a new one. You’re as bad as Desire. No, worse.”

And to prove her point, she threw the bread back at Dream, himself catching it in his arms with a look of shock. He was like Desire? How? Desire was heinous, a liar and a two-faced devil.

“Did it never occur to you that I would be worried about you?”

“I didn’t think you-”

“Exactly. You didn’t think.”

“Heads up!”

And like Morpheus had done previous to this encounter with Death, she caught the fast-paced ball with ease, looking over her shoulder to look at the men.

“Wow. You’re as good as your… friend there.” The previous man, Franklin, came over to retrieve the ball, yet under that action; anyone could guess that he was trying to flirt with Death.

She tossed the ball at him, “He’s not my friend. He’s my brother. And he’s an idiot.”

“I’m just feeding the birds…-”

Defensive, it struck Death as an adorable sentiment.

“Look, I can’t stay here all day. I’ve got work to do. You can come with me if you want, or you can stay here and sulk.”

“I’ll come with you, I suppose.”

This gave Death a sincere smile, her mind drifting to all the many times they spent sibling time together, and the excitement set in.

“Well, don’t do me any favors.”

Morpheus rose from the bench, to head off with Death until Franklin came over, ball still in his clutches.

“Sorry, before you go, um, could I maybe see you again?”

“Sure, Franklin. You’ll see me again.”

Oh.

He was on the roster of her work for the day.

“Seriously?”

“Soon.”

“Okay, cool. Yeah, let me just get your number and…” He turned away from the two, throwing the ball at his mate before turning to ask Death a question.

“Wait, how did you know my…”

But they were gone. The area the two occupied was now empty and devoid of any presence.

“Come on, Franklin! Are you playin’ or not?”

There was indistinct chatter amongst and around the two Endless, civilians in all areas, going about life. Human life was fickle, trivial, and brief, and yet; Death couldn’t help but love every single human she encountered.

“Look!”

There was a small but humble fruit cart, various shapes and sizes and colors of the sweet creation of humanity upon it. Death however was eyeing up the apples, eyes open in delight.

“Yum! Okay, two, please.”

“None for me, thank you.”

“They’re good for you.”

“I’m not hungry.”

“You can just have it later.”

However, Morpheus’s gaze was asking her to just not get him one, and she abided by it.

“Just one. Thanks.”

The owner of the cart grabbed the brightest of red apples, bringing it to his chest to clean it off with his shirt, before handing it to her.

“There you go.”

The sentiment made Death smile, “Thank you.”

“It’s a gift.”

“Aw. Thank you. So nice.”

Death took a large bite of the apple, the juice immediately coming out and coating every bit of her mouth. In her eyes, this gift was the most delicious one she’s had as of late.

“Mmm. That is delicious.” Dream however, was gazing at her with a look that had Death confused.

“What?”

“You are good with them.”

The pair began to walk away from the fruit cart, the owner still smiling from his interaction with Death.

“Apples?”

“Humans.”

“Mmm. And you’re not?”

A small smile graced Morpheus’s face at the thought of you, and that made Death visibly perk up.

“Pray-tell, Brother… What’s got you smiling?”

“A girl I met while trying to retrieve my tools… She was kind and has a way with her words. She wasn’t alarmed by me but seemed comfortable within my presence. It’s been rare for me to meet such humans with the gift of not feeling unnerved by my presence.”

Death laughs, “And is she catching your eye, perhaps?”

“Mmm. Perhaps.”

“Like Nada and Calliope?”

A pang of pain in his chest at the sound of their names, his past lovers, the ones he still cared about even if he banished one to Hell and the other having anger towards him. Calliope and Nada both had their quirks and their skills, very different personalities and looks about them; but it wasn’t the same with you. He didn’t want to mess up.

“I’m still… pondering that fact.”

She hummed in understanding, “Well, she sounds delightful regardless of your standing with her.”

“She is quite delightful.”

“Bite?”

The apple that Death had received previously was now at Morpheus’s lips, “No, thank you.”

“Hmm. Have you seen any of the others since you’ve been back?”

He shook his head to himself, “Have you?”

“Mmm…Mmm.” Chewing on the bite of the apple, finger held in the air, she swallowed to speak.

“We did have one family dinner when you were away. The twins were in high spirits. Mmm, Desire was, anyway.”

“With me gone, I have no doubt.”

Desire was meddlesome, always in others affairs, especially their own siblings. Dream however held a distaste for Desire due to them manipulating the feelings of Killala, one of his lovers of the past. Once one of his favorite siblings, now one that only wished malice upon him.

“I don’t know. I think Desire missed having their usual sparring partner across the dinner table.” Death’s tone was filled with a teasing energy, but Morpheus had more important questions to ask.

“Any word of the Prodigal?”

“No. Still missing. You were both missed.” She gently nudged Dream’s shoulder, but Dream remained quiet, urking Death to the point of outwardly mentioning it.

“”How are you, sis? How have you been keeping?” Aw. I’m well, Dream. Thanks for asking.”

Now that gave Dream a rather large smile to his normally neutral face, “How are you, my sister? How have you been keeping?”

“I’m worried about my brother…And I’m enjoying this apple.”

Violin music however pulled the two out of their moment, the tune familiar, “Can you hear it?”

Up on the balcony, the violin sang out beautifully, making a memory reach out to Dream, “I know this piece. I haven’t heard it in two-hundred years.”

A gentle hand urged Dream to follow, “Come on.”

And, into the apartment building they went.

Human life was so utterly fragile, old age could even kill the strongest soul. Death took the soul of an old man, helped him pass on, with her kind and friendly face, it is no wonder people took her hand. The one after was a man newly married, on his honeymoon with his wife. Her screams of his name were haunting and brought a question that really was difficult.

“How do you do it?”

The street stretched out before the two, the houses looking similar in shape and size and yet so many different people lived within them.

“Do what?”

“This. Be there, for all of them?” Death shrugs, “I have a job to do. And I do it. When the first living thing existed, I was there. When the last living thing dies, I’ll put the chairs on the table, turn out the lights and… lock the universe behind me when I leave. And I’m not there for all of them. There are exceptions. Mad Hettie. And then there’s your ongoing project. How’s he faring up after all this time?”

“Who? Hob Gadling?”

“Hmm.”

“I don’t know. I was forced to miss our last appointment.”

“Well, I’m sure he’d love to see you. They’re never too keen to see me, though.”

“Does it not bother you?” Death shrugs once again, “I actually used to think I had the hardest job in all our family.”

“Oh, did you?” Playful tone.

“They fear the Sunless Lands, yet they enter your realm every night without fear.”

“And yet I am far more terrible than you.”

Death chuckles at his words, “It was fine in the beginning. Dying and living were new things and people did them with the enthusiasm they always bring to new things. And then after a bit, it just got harder.”

“But you continued.”

She takes a moment to ruminate on his statement, “I thought about giving up. Walking out. This was a long time ago, long before this world.”

Death began her pursuit into a specific brick house with a gray convertible parked out front, and in she went to do her job.

“It really started to get to me. I got kind of hard and brittle inside. I mean, people feel as pleased to have been born as if they did it themselves. But they get upset and hurt and shaken when they die. But eventually, I learned that all they really need is a kind word and a friendly face. Like they and in the beginning.”

“Hello!”

A baby cooed from its pure white crib, blue onesie on while it smiled at its mother who was reaching a hand in to say hello.

“Hello, baby girl…Are you hungry? Mum had better get your bottle, then.”

The mom walked away, leaving Death to take her place; the baby still fussing about. Death gently lifted the baby, however, from its crib and the realization hit Dream instantly. The baby was destined to die, at such a young and fical age, it was yet to even learn the trials and tribulations of living in an unforgiving world. It was a cruel fate, but a cruel job for Death to carry out. Into Death’s arms the baby went, relaxing in her arms.

“Yeah. I’m afraid so. That’s all there is, little one. That’s all you get.”

And with a walk out of sight from Dream, Death was sending the baby to move on. The crib was empty unlike his thoughts.

“All right, sweetie. Lunch time.”

“We can go.”

Death took her brisk walk out of the home, Morpheus having to succumb to listening to the mother find her child dead within the once lively crib. Her cries of anguish set his mind to only one thought.

‘I will not let Y/N die.’

Both Dream and Death journeyed to greet and send off numerous humans who were at the end of the line. The work was melancholy and emotion inducing, and Dream felt himself feeling bad for what Death had to do daily. But she was well good at it.

The park had people of all genders, ages, ethnicities, and sizes, having fun outside, the chatter of them all sounding around the duo.

“I used to think I had to do this all by myself.”

“But you do.”

“No. At the end, I’m there with them. I’m holding their hand and they’re holding mine. I’m not alone when I’m doing my job. And neither are you. Think about it.” She gripped his wrist gently, “The only reason we even exist, you and I, and Desire and Despair, the whole family. We’re here to serve them. It isn’t about quests or finding purpose outside our function. Our purpose is our function. We’re here for them. Since I figured that out, I realized I need them as much as they need me. I’ve seen so many cool things and people and worlds. I’ve learned so much. Lots of people don’t have a job they love doing, do they? So, I think I’m really very lucky. Listen, I’ve got to head back soon.”

Morpheus stopped them both within the grass of the park, recognizing it as the same one they had been in earlier.

“You’ve taught me something I had forgotten. I thank you, my sister.”

Death’s lips upturned, “Aw. That’s what family’s about, little brother.”

“To me, man! Over here!”

She sighs, “One last appointment, then I have to go.”

Tires screeched and then a thud, “I, too, am late for an appointment.”

“Tell him I said hello.”

“Franklin!”

“I have to go. Good luck with your lady friend, also.”

The two shared a final smile before Death went off to go help yet another soul. Dream needed to attend to his appointment and then visit the object of his desire, the one who consumed his every thought.

“You’re late.”

“It seems I owe you an apology. I’ve always heard it impolite to keep one’s friends waiting.”

Hob Gadling had been the same man he had known from all those years ago, up until now. He was now a history teacher, which was not surprising in the slightest. And the conversation between the two lasted way longer than any of the other appointments over the various hundreds of years. Hob had plenty of stories to tell about his life, his students, trying to date using an app called ‘Tinder’. And he even wanted to know what had occurred in the years that Morpheus was gone, in which he indulged, telling him about his entrapment, getting free, and getting his tools back. He even mentioned you, and meeting you, which had Hob calling out about how he probably had a ‘total maddening’ crush on you. Which, the poor endless, wouldn’t deny; and that fact sent the immortal man into a fit of laughter. And by the time night rolled around, Hob confirmed that he still wanted to live, as long as Dream would visit him outside of the ‘every hundred years’ rule, which Morpheus agreed to immediately.

At about eleven p.m., Dream wished Hob goodbye and set himself to visiting you. And you were not hard to track considering you were very asleep and dreaming at the moment.

He closed his eyes, focused on your dreams, and when his eyes opened, he was greeted with your body splayed across your bed, arms and legs in odd positions, which Dream noted as fairly endearing.

“Y/N.”

You sturred.

“Y/N.”

This awoke you immediately, eyes opening to look at the popcorn ceiling, then to your bedside clock, then to the looming figure in your room.

“Dream…?”

Your voice was hoarse, rough from the deep sleep you were previously in.

“I’m sorry for waking you.”

“No-No..! It’s fine.”

You flicked the bedside lamp on, taking in the darkness of his robes, and the pale skin you missed the touch of.

“Why… are you here, though?”

“I had some realizations.”

You perked up, watching him sit at the edge of your bed, almost hesitant to even speak.

“Your dreams, Y/N L/N, are beautiful.”

“Erm… okay?”

You weren’t getting it, that was obvious.

“I enjoy entering your dreams. Altering them, observing them, and meeting you within them. Your mind is so very unique. And I can’t help but appreciate it.”

“Wait… are you saying my mind is pleasing and captivating to you?”

“Yes… and, in human terms, I wish to be your friend. If you would allow me such a privilege.”

Friend? The connection between the two of you was balancing on the tight-rope of lovers and friends. Yet, you nodded in your sleep-like vigor.

“I’d love to be your friend, Morpheus.”

And he smiled, a wide smile, an unknown and outlandish occasion for him. But he welcomed it none-the-less, intertwining his cold, cold hand in yours.

“Now, sleep, Y/N.”

THUD!

‘She’s too tired to comprehend a word I am saying. It’s best to let her sleep and contact her in the morning.’

The hand that was in yours was now stroking your cheek, eyes watching your chest rise up and down, up and down. You had no idea just how important you were to him, and perhaps that would be your downfall. Or maybe his.

#xreader #fanfiction #morpheus x reader #suspirium into stupor #morpheus x you #morpheus x y/n #morpheus #dream of the endless #dream of the endless fic #dream x reader #dream the endless x reader #the sandman fic #the sandman fanfic #the sandman x you #the sandman x reader #the sandman #sandman x reader

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hunny-beann · 5 months

Text

You Can; You Will...

Dream of the Endless x f!Reader

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

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

Word Count: 2,644

This had to be torture, surely.

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

Why else would Dream have been looking at you so?

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

"You have returned."

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

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

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

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

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

His own creations.

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

He was the one thing you believed to be permanent.

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

And oh, what a sight it had been.

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

You had never wanted to leave.

And eventually, you would not have to anymore.

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

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

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

Loss.

'I can't do it anymore.'

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

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

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

'You can.'

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

'You will.'

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

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

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

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

'But why?'

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

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

And you never had.

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

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

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

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

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

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

The dream lord,

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

Until one day, that all came to an end.

The king of dreamers left and did not return.

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

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

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

'You can.'

Dream had once told you.

'You will.'

He had assured.

But you could not this time.

You likely would not ever again.

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

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

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

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

You were far from the first to leave.

But you were even further from the last.

"Did you lose faith in me?"

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

Lose faith in him?

Was that what you had done?

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

"No."

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

"Never."

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

You sighed exasperatedly,

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

"You."

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

"Me?"

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

"But I am not-"

"You are everything."

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

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

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

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

He did not try to stop you.

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

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

#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

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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

if you’d like to be added to the taglist, please let me know ! i appreciate all feedback. and thank you so much for all the love on my recent writes! it is heartwarming and i am so grateful to everybody! :)

-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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barbiedragon · 8 months

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The Sandman Masterlist

One Shots:

Somnophilia: Dream x The Corinthian x reader (written for kinktober)

Requests:

Dream kitty fluff

The Corinthian x black widow!reader

Lust is a thing of blood: The Corinthian x fem!reader (period/oral)

#the sandman #the sandman fic #dream of the endless #the corinthian #the corinthian x reader #dream x reader #morpheus #morpheus x reader #the corinthian fic #dream of the endless fic

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preciouslandmermaid · 9 months

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quiet fury in your head [vi]

Dream of the Endless x F!Reader!Goddess / Sandman Fanfiction

Note: Dream is a bit of a voyeur in this one!! The Goddess discovers the fate of the betrayer & Dream is in denial about his feelings, tbh. No use of Y/N. See part 1 for all the tags tbh.

Warnings: accidental voyeurism (kinda?), solo masturbation

Rating: 18+

(Read on AO3) || (masterpost for other chapters)

As a rule born from pure pettiness – you reject any “gifts” the Dream King offers during your years of servitude. You avoid the castle. You avoid the room he gave you and its extensive wardrobe. You do not sleep within the marble walls. You barely speak to the Dreaming’s citizens. They know you—of course they do—and they still whisper your old name “Queen of Nightmares.” But even as they whisper your title: they build no effigies in your honor, they sing no songs, or slaughter animals.

Ultimately, they aren’t your worshipers, they aren’t your friends, and they are a poor substitute for the family you lost.

And yet...you find yourself strolling through the impressive, towering shelves of the library. The air is filled with dead tress and your eyes prickle with heat. Oral traditions had been the norm during your time as a Goddess. What use did cutting down trees and smashing them to pulp have? You pull a book from the shelf and leaf through the pages. The scribbles are nonsense to you.

“Lady,” A scholarly black woman greets you with a respectful nod of her bald head, “I wondered if you might pass through here.”

You snap the book shut and slide it back into the shelf.

“I don’t know why I’m here,” You admit abrupt and honest. What was I seeking? Answers? Hope that my sister’s names are written somewhere in this library? How would that serve me? How could it serve me when I can make no sense of these drawings on the page?

Lucienne adjusts her round glasses, “Does there need to be a reason?” She smiles softly. “You can come here anytime you like. It’s quiet here—which I like—and there’s so much…” Her neck cranes upward while she admires the imposing shelves.

“Perhaps you might be interested in…” Lucienne’s voice trails off. You are gone. She had not even heard you leave.

*********

Another day, a different one, when the skies are as pink as a newborn chick. The cold breeze tickles your exposed skin as you walk through fluffy, blush-hued clouds. You look up and the world flips, as simple as that, and you find yourself standing before a hut made of thunderclouds.

“Don’t get visitors up this way.” A voice says from within before they materialize through the gray, bulbous clouds and stand in front of you. Her thin body is cerulean and her veins flash in brief, sharp bursts of lightening. Her short, white dress moves with the wind.

You purse your lips, “Have I intruded?”

“Not at all, My Queen.” She bows her head respectfully and places one hand over her heart. You are painfully reminded of a similar pose you once gave to your sister, Badb, when you bravely and foolishly proclaimed that you would fight Fate and save your people.

“I appreciate the visit. You may call me Dima.” She says.

“I am not your queen.” You reply stiffly.

Dima shrugs. Her movements echo with rumbling thunder. “I knew you… and have known you for many years...” She waves her arm and the clouds shift, responding to her call, and form two chairs. Dima sits and gestures for you to do the same.

You narrow your eyes. The war of curiosity and caution battles within. No harm has come to me within the Dreaming. You sit in the soft chair Dima has provided.

“I brought the storm that day.” Dima explains softly, her pure-white eyes flash with the energy of a hundred storms. You don’t need her to clarify. You feel the mud beneath your knees. You feel Lugh’s spear. You hear Badb’s ravens—crying out. The rain, the thunder, the rage. You remember all of it.

You harden your heart and tear your eyes away from Dima.

“I am sorry for what became of them.”

“Are you?” You snap, your heart sore.

“I am.” Her voice is gentle and reminds you of the soft patter-patter of rainfall against a thatch roof. “I would bring you a thousand storms, my queen, if I believed it would help.”

You laugh dryly, meeting her electric eyes, “Would you drown the world if I asked it?” You pour all your heartache and rage into that single question. Let the world drown, let the new Gods sink and the Old Gods be reborn. Curse these mortals for forgetting you. Curse them all.

Dima doesn’t flinch. “I would.”

You recline and fold your arms across your chest. “Why are you offering such loyalty to me?” You trusted Lugh and he betrayed you. You trusted your worshipers, yet they stopped calling your name, and let you and your sisters turn to dust. They were overtaken by another faith, but you could not scrub that feeling of betrayal from your skin. You would not make the same mistake twice.

Dima smiles, her teeth as white as the dress she wears, “Because I can feel the storm brewing inside you...for like calls to like. Storm to rage, rage to storm.”

Despite your best efforts, your lips twitch upward. Dima’s forthright and confident attitude is something you appreciate. And it has been centuries since you could call upon someone (Morpheus does not count. He is your keeper and is intent on letting you serve your sentence for however he sees fit. You doubt he would come if you called).

Dima isn’t your friend, but she is not wholly a stranger either. The air thickens with the scent of the ozone and an impending storm. The clouds around you darken into a thick, heavy gray like ash and smoke. You lightly touch the center of your chest—the place where your own storm lives—and a boom of thunder carries out across the field.

*********

A whisper carries through the Dreaming: Morpheus left for an Odyssey. No one can say for how long he will be gone. Or when he will return. You take the opportunity to enter the castle for the second time in years. There is no risk of Dream seeing you, though one of his ravens will likely tattle. You slip through the corridors barefoot on quick, silent feet. You open the door to the room. Your room. Your jail cell. Your tomb—if Dream hadn’t saved you from Lugh’s poison.

Starlight drips from the ceiling and illuminates the room. Your bed is large, lavish, with purple silk pillow cases and black sheets. It is bare of any decorations or trinkets. You inhale deeply. The scents of jasmine and lavender fill your nostrils. Your heart flutters and heat prickles across the nape of your neck. The moonlit forest. The feather-light touch of Dream’s lips on yours. You push the thought from your mind and ignore the tightening of your abdomen.

You pull open the doors to the closet. The dresses and cloaks drape from their hangers. They are pristine. Elegant. Fit for a queen, you think with a sardonic twist of your mouth. The closet deepens. The clothes vary in style and material and color. You find a plain looking black traveling cloak. This will do for the next time I visit Dima. You drape the cloak over your shoulders and fasten the silver, raven’s head clasp. The interior lining of the cloak is buttery soft and smooth where it touches your skin. A small shiver of delight courses through you followed by a lick of hot, burning shame. I told myself I would never accept anything Dream offered to me and yet, I have made myself a liar.

You catch your reflection in the mirror hanging from the closet door. You do not recognize the woman standing in front of you. There is no triumph in her gaze, no glorious smile, and Macha and Badb do not stand beside her as they always have. You trail your fingertips through the empty air. Their absence aches through you like an old wound. A broken bone that has set incorrectly. A black tumor that won’t kill you as it presses into your organs.

You lean your forehead into the glass and close your eyes.

*********

Lucienne looks up at you, her glasses perched on her nose, and her face softens with her smile.

“I was afraid you might not return.”

“Your fears were not misplaced. I almost changed my mind a dozen times before entering.” You slide your hands into the pockets of your cloak, “I have need of your assistance, Lucienne.”

She carefully closes the book she was repairing, “Of course. What do you need, my lady?”

*********

Lucienne sits across from you at a small, wooden table within the library. Although you haven’t kept track of time—there’s no point within the Dreaming when time is fluid and meaningless—but you suspect that it’s been several hours since Lucienne began teaching you how to read and write.

“This,” she tapped her finger against the page, “is the letter phi.”

You trace the letter. Your fingertips are stained with ink. You don’t know why your powers don’t extend into omnipotent literacy. But, if you want to learn what became of Lugh and the others, then you need to be able to read and understand the scribbles on the pages. Your pride will not allow you to ask Lucienne to find the appropriate book and read it to you. And besides, working with Lucienne helps to fill the time. She makes for tender, quiet company. It is a nice contrast to your visits with Dima, the bold and loud Storm-Weaver.

Lucienne says, “I have a question if I may.”

“Hm?” You struggle to trace the next letter, “I’m listening.”

“Will you return to the library?”

Your brow furrows. A curious question. You glance up from your work. The orange candlelight flickers across Lucienne’s smooth, dark skin and reflects in the circular lenses of her glasses. You set your brush down and straighten your shoulders.

“Clarify.”

“Dream will return eventually.” She says, “And I’ve noticed that you tend to avoid the castle.” Lucienne tilts her head to the side. “And now you’ve come when he’s away on odyssey.”

“Generally, the Dream Lord and I avoid each other.”

“Unless he needs you.” Lucienne guesses.

“It’s a big castle,” You pick up the thin paintbrush again, “I will return, Lucienne.”

“Oh,” She replies softly and her tone is pleased, “Good.”

*********

You tuck yourself into one of the cozier corners of the library with your cloak wrapped around your frame and a book open in your lap. You trace your fingers across the green and gold cover. It took some seeking but Lucienne assured you this was the right one. The Dolmens of Ireland by William Borlase, 1897. This is where your answers would be found. A record of Lugh’s fate. The God who betrayed you and accepted sainthood.

Your pulse thumps through your fingertips and inside the hollow dip of your jaw. You flip through the pages until you come upon grave of Saint Molaga.

“Although this stone is known from the Christian era as the cover slab of the grave of St. Molaga, it probably predates the saint by many centuries.” You scan through the rest of the page, “Mo is a prefix and Logha relates to the name of the Pagan divinity Lugh. Therefore, this site is the ‘Bed of the holy Lugh,'”

Your throat tightens. Lugh was given a new life after all. He became a saint. They changed his name and built new places in his honor. There are legends to his name. They gave him a grave.

He lived while you and your sisters were forgotten. The painful prickle crawls up your throat and hot tears glide down your cheeks. You close the book and clench your fingers around it until your knuckles go white. You stare, unseeing, at the shelf in front of you as grief wrecks through your body in painful, sharp stabs.

Part of me...believed that Lugh did not survive the battle. That he did not get his Sainthood. That those heretics, those interlopers, betrayed him as he betrayed us. But no. The truth feels like glass between your teeth. Lugh was victorious. No vengeful Goddess came and struck him down. He lived.

You cover your face with your trembling hands and taste salt.

*********

Dream stops short at the sight of you in the library. His hands twitch at his sides. The joy he feels upon seeing you wearing his cloak is short-lived. Your shoulders shake and a brief, pained whimper reaches his ears. Your sadness penetrates through the space of the Dreaming like a serrated blade. His chest aches. He wishes he could approach you, offer some comfort or solace, but he does not move. He remains in the shadows and shrinks further back and watches you through the slats of the bookshelves.

She belongs to Desire until her time here is done. He reminds himself. This could be one of Desire’s tricks. Their manipulations to make me...feel something...for her. Dream clenches his jaw. You inhale shakily and the book in your lap clatters to the floor.

“Bastard!” You curse, kicking its spine, before you get to your feet. Your sadness sharpens into anger. He tastes it like copper on his tongue. Your cloak swishes around you as you spin on your heel and storm from the library. He watches you leave and the ache in his chest grows.

His affections for you are poison, like a corrosive acid that gnaws at him. He cannot permit himself the luxury of caring for you. He cannot. He has his responsibilities as Lord of the Dreaming and he cannot trust you. You belong to Desire. You were their creation. He can’t trust his feelings as they war inside his chest. What would I say if I went to her? My own siblings are Endless. We lost Destruction, but that was...different.

Your grief-struck face burns into his mind. He touches the ring holding your power. It feels cold. Jessamy caws and flies down onto his shoulder. He gently scratches beneath Jessamy’s beak. He knows he could release you from his service at any time. But, the looming agony of your absence prevents him from finally letting you go. He’d rather you have you, even at pained awful distance, than lose you forever. You move through his Dreaming like a beacon of beautiful, radiant light and shadow. When he returned from his Odyssey, his heart had leapt at the knowledge that you were within the castle.

He walks to where you sat prior and picks the book up. He skims his fingers over the embossed title. She knows the truth. She knows Lugh was granted his Sainthood. Immortalized. Remembered. He sighs. The first few raindrops land softly against the windows of the library.

The words ‘I’m sorry’ are paltry and chalky on his tongue. Does his apology return your sisters? No. Does it soothe your grief? No. A dozen times he’s considered creating dreams in the image of Badb and Macha for your company. But he resists the urge. A dream, no matter how magnificent, could not replace the bond you shared with the two Gods.

And he thinks you might scorn him if he tried to give you a dream-version of your sisters. He would rather witness your sadness than endure your scorn. Dream returns the book to its place within the shelves.

“It’s good to have you back, my lord.” Lucienne says from behind him.

Dream gives her a noncommittal nod. Lucienne’s presence reminds him that there is work to be done. His odyssey took longer than he expected and it was time to refocus. He cannot think of you any longer—otherwise it would be a distraction.

*********

“I think you should come, it’ll be fun!” Dima proclaims. She kicks her blue feet through the water. The sunlight pours through the sky and glistens and shines off the flowing river. You peel your tattered dress over your head. The sting of Lugh’s survival bites at your heart. You are learning to live with the pain of it—though you refuse to shed anymore tears.

“I haven’t been to a revelry in a long, long time.”

Dima snorts, “They call them parties, Mor.”

You shrug and dip your toes into the cold, rushing water. Although Dream returned from his Odyssey some time ago, he has not called you. Nowadays, you spend time with Dima and learn with Lucienne (Lucienne started teaching you a language known as ‘Mandarin’).

While Morpheus is absent from your life. You wish his absence would make your heart yearn less, but it seems the opposite is true. You’ve found yourself glancing around the library during your lessons, seeking him, and instead feeling frustration and disappointment.

You wade through until the pebbled stones beneath your feet dip and the water is deep enough for you to swim. The current is cold and refreshing. A school of tiny silver fish dart past your legs. Dima continues talking about the upcoming party. She is a deluge of dialogue. Her words fast and leave no room for argument or dissent. She reminds you of a younger version of yourself; bold, straightforward, quick and witty.

You cut through the water like a trout. The chill has enveloped you, prickling goosebumps across your flesh, puckering your nipples to hard, pebbled nubs. A flock of blackbirds land on a tree nearby and you float on your back, watching them, and wonder if Dream will attend this ‘party’ as well. Likely not. He does not seem the partying type.

*********

He uses the many eyes of the Dreaming to follow you. He watches you study with Lucienne, your brow furrowed, your teeth toying with your sweet lower lip. He watches you with Dima, the Storm-Weaver, and notices how her company has soothed some of your pain, some of your grief. You still do not smile or laugh, but your expressions are softer. You regard Dima with a...fondness...in your eyes. He clenches his jaw. It doesn’t matter if she takes Dima for a lover. She can do as she wishes. He could forbid it, of course. He could make it part of your punishment—that you cannot court or find release with any residents of the Dreaming. But, Dream resists the urge. Because there is a chance that...if you do take Dima for a lover...then you will return to the Dreaming after completing your final task for Desire. And I see her again within my own Realm.

One of his ravens has taken comfort among a family of smaller magpies. They squawk and flutter among the thin, wavering branches of a beautiful and lush tree. Dream freezes in the coordinator. His awareness is on his raven, seeing through her eyes, and he notices your naked, perfect body move through the river with Dima alongside you walking along the bank.

Dream swiftly teleports into his bedroom. His body trembles with desire as tight as a wire wrapping around his throat. He cannot bring his sight away. Selfishly, he connects himself to the water you’re swimming through. The sensation is like an electric jolt to his spine.

The heat spreads across the nape of his neck as his hand palms the front of his tight trousers. He feels you move through the water. Your thighs, your legs, your arms, and breasts. It feels as if you’re pressing your naked body against him. Every curve, every muscle, it glides against him like liquid desire. He shudders and presses his tongue to the roof of his mouth.

He unzips his trousers and pulls free his hard cock. I shouldn’t...but the thought quickly vanishes as he sees and feels you twirl through the water, the serpentine curve of your spine and swell of your ass visible to him.

He imagines your mouth on him—first your tongue—because he suspects that you appreciate the tease.

He hisses through his teeth and holds the base of his cock and slowly begins to pump his hand over it. He imagines your pebbled nipples brush against his lips. He imagines what sweet noises you might make for him when he suckles on your breast and nibbles your collarbone. His thumb swipes against the beading pre-cum at his tip and Dream catches the groan in his throat. His hand is a poor substitute for the warm, wet heat of your perfect mouth—but it’ll have to do.

He cannot have you, so he will settle for the fantasy. He imagines your tongue swiping over his tip before you draw him into your mouth, your cheeks hollowing, your starry eyes peering up at him through your thick lashes. He cups the back of your neck. You moan around him. Dream hisses, bucking his hips into his hand, his balls tightening. Your tongue flicks along the underside of his cock, massaging it, as you work your mouth over his hard length. He moans. He is no better than a moral man throwing himself at the feet of his beloved.

Your eyelashes flutter. His hand pumps faster—squeezing faintly. He switches the fantasy. He imagines bending you over his writing desk, your perky ass in the air, your went cunt on display. He wants to lick, to taste, but he denies himself the pleasure (even here, even within his own fantasy).

He spreads your legs and enters you ever-so-slowly, feeling you stretch and envelope him, before his hands are on your hips and his bedroom is filled with the sounds of your low, raspy moans. Dream bites his lip. His pulse pounds through his veins. The pace of his hand quickens and his eyes screw closed. Your cunt squeezes him. It’s perfect. A perfect fit. Your slick coats him, the lubrication deepening every stroke, and oh—yes—he goes deep. He holds your hips and drives into you in long, meticulous strokes. You cry out his name. Again and again. Morpheus. Morpheus. Dream’s cock twitches in his hand.

He feels each droplet of water as it glistens down your skin. He watches the sparkly droplets cling to your eyelashes and your delicate earlobe. In his fantasy, Dream bends over and nibbles your earlobe while his hand comes to find your clit between your legs. He squeezes his cock. He imagines you cumming around his cock, cunt tight, voice raw with screaming, rocking your hips back into him with every thrust. The Banshee Queen would be loud in love-making. Dream arches his pale neck, his jaw tight, his breath stuttering as his orgasm hits him.

His chest heaves with labored, his fingers are sticky and glistening, and he quickly returns his awareness to his raven—to watch you again—and you are climbing out onto the river bed. Dima hands you your flimsy dress. He watches it stick in places to your wet skin. He vanishes the mess he’s made, though the knowledge of what he did lingers. What’s done is done. She will no longer be a distraction for me. She is free from my mind. This will not happen again.

*********

You attend the revelry with Dima. It takes place within a crumbling stone and moss colossus. The bones of a giant is what Dima named it. The familiar sight of a bonfire and tables laden with food bring a small, bright comfort to your heart. These events have not changed in thousands of years. The drums reverberate through your bones. The honey wine melts on your tongue. Dima spins you, her skin flickers with lightening and briefly illuminating the space in sharp, blue-white flashes. Her smile white and brilliant. The world blurs into a kaleidoscope of colors, warm and cold, as fire smoke prickles your eyes.

Someone is standing in the shadows. Someone tall and lean with wild dark hair and fathomless eyes. Dream? Dima spins you again. You return your eyes to the place you saw him. He is gone. Perhaps he was never there to begin with.

*********

Additional Note: I resisted the urge to add Dima/Reader smooch at the end, but mostly because their relationship is like...platonic but borders on worship?? with Dima as the worshipper. So obviously the power dynamics there would be a little skewed. I might end up writing it for fun as a bonus chapter or something. the world can be healed with yuri love

#dream the endless x the morrigan #dream x reader #the sandman x reader #the sandman fanfic #dream of the endless fic #dream of the endless x you #dream of the endless x reader #dream x you #dream x fem!reader #sandman x reader #morpheus x reader #morpheus smut #morpheus x you

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mylifeisactuallyamess · 2 years

Text

A/N: Posting and running because I am exhausted! The excitement from the extra episode sent me on a frenzy. I’ve been struggling a lot with myself, imposter syndrome and perfectionism but I am trying everyday to push through it. The interaction I get is really humbling for someone like me and I am so grateful. Also, go watch the new episode, it’s amazing.

Warnings: Do not tag Neil Gaiman in any of my work or he will block me and I do enjoy his page. This fic is an 18+ sloooow burn. I am taking huge artistic license with the world because I am going by the TV series alone. If you don’t like it, don’t read it. Tags will be updated per chapter but if you know how the series goes then you know where the tags are heading. This shit is unbeta’d. Reader is femme and I will always be respectful of characters pronouns throughout the fic. If I do slip up please feel free to message me and it shall be corrected.

Pairing: Dream of the Endless/ Morpheus x F!reader/oc insert.

Summary: Brought to life by the power of the Dreaming, you were tasked with a single purpose. Find Lord Morpheus. However, once your purpose is completed will he find it in his heart to keep you around or was your purpose the only reason you were brought into being. Multichapter fuckery.

Prelude

Word Count: 2.2k+

Tagging: @a-bang-for-your-bucky @lu123sworld @leighanne03 (if you’d like to be tagged or taken off just let me know.)

Chapter 1: The Waking Realm

The sunlight was searing as it broke out all around you. Warmth pillowed beneath you, caressing with the softest of tendrils. Comfort blossomed in your chest as the aching sadness of the Dreaming released its hold on you.

Prying your eyes open the light struck deeply and you cried out trying to cover them only to find you didn’t have hands anymore. The abrupt change in your movement meant your wing wasn’t outstretched and your entire form dipped alarmingly.

Colours of blue and green whipped across your vision as you tried to make sense of what was happening. Nausea clawed at your stomach forcing you to take control. Pushing your wing back out you managed to steady yourself, rising once more on the pillow of warmth and you let out a gasp.

Trees of every green you could imagine lay out beneath you. You had never seen such a cacophony of colours before and all you could think about was how beautiful everything was. The landscape rolled away from you, peaking and troughing hills dotted with multicoloured flowers all crowned with the glory of sunshine. It was nothing like the realm you had just left and that made you realise a balance had been tipped. One that shouldn’t have been messed with.

Turning your head slowly you saw your own outstretched wings, black but shimmering with a blue/purple highlight.

Clacking your beak you began to get a feel for your new physique. Your feet were tucked into your underside, nestled in your downy feathers. The weight of the amulet was evident around your neck even though it wasn’t visible, but you felt the pull.

Carefully you shifted in the air, marvelling at the way you tipped in that direction, hoping it would lead you to the elusive Lord Morpheus.

It felt like hours you’d been travelling in the same direction. Drinking in the buildings that you drifted by, seeing humans for the first time and hearing all their noise and scenting their smells. You’d give anything to explore this chaotic world, to walk among the people and learn their ways. Maybe as a reward, this Lord would set you free once he was found.

Everything was so loud where the buildings were but when you hit greenery again it provided a natural barrier and the world was peaceful once more. You came across other birds following you on different legs of your journey before peeling off when they reached their own destinations.

You watched the sky turn from a bright blue to the deepest of navy, the golden light of the sun casting its last rays wildly into the sky with hues of range and pink. The sight was so breathtaking you almost missed the pull of the amulet as you flew over a lone house.

Circling lazily you made sure the amulet was telling you this was where you needed to be and the pull was unmistakable.

With a rapid flap of your wings you tried to land but you misjudged the edge of the chimney and ended up rather ungracefully slamming into the side of the roof. Scrabbling wildly you managed to push off again and find somewhere better to land. You lay there, your chest rising and falling rapidly with your wings spread as the last light of day fully left this world. You felt exhausted but the need to rest was overshadowed by the constant tingling of the amulet. Gingerly you moved yourself into an upright position, taking a moment to admire the star studded sky that was as glorious now as it was in the daytime.

There was no doubt in your mind that this, Lord Morpheus was in this house. Why would a being such as he, want to reside here while his kingdom fell apart? It made no sense.

You weren’t here to make sense of it, you were here to find out what had happened to him. That was your purpose. Dragging yourself upright you fluttered across the roof, hopping until you reached the edge. There was a light on near a large door and you guessed that was the main entrance. A gravel driveway swept away from the house disappearing into the dark of the trees but you didn’t care where it went. You had to get inside this house. Raising your tired wings and letting go of the perch you flew round the whole place until you happened upon an open window. It took a couple of attempts before you finally rested on the sill and peered into the gloomy interior.

Silence greeted you. A single lamp was on, illuminating a hallway filled with glass cabinets and pointless human trinkets. With a rustle you fluttered down to a chair, flaring your wings when your legs seemed to collapse under your weight. It happened so suddenly, the hallway tipped and your entire body flopped with drastic exhaustion. You couldn’t stop the fall, your raven form melting and to your horror you could catch yourself with your hands. At first it was a relief to release the energy it took to disguise yourself but when footsteps sounded on the stairs all you could think about was somewhere to hide.

Your bare feet were silent as you raced down the hall only to dive into a room at the end and hope no one came in. Your heart was pounding, the palms of your hands becoming slippery and shaking; all sensations you’d never experienced before.

After you’d determined you were safe you looked around the room. The first thing you noticed was how much stuff was in here; a wooden rocking horse, an empty cot, a book shelf with worn titles on. An old rocking chair sat at the back, plumes of dust rose up from the pillow when you swept a hand over the threadbare fabric. For some reason it made you sad. Why keep all these objects only to shut them in a room? Did they hold no value to the owner anymore? It was already something you knew you’d never understand.

Gingerly you sat down and grabbed at the ravens head that rested on your chest. The tingling was driving you a little crazy, the pulling sensation almost making you feel queasy as it tugged you down.

As exhausted as you were you knew you didn’t need sleep. It was merely you trying to get used to your new body and learning it’s limits. Your wings hadn’t made an appearance, maybe they didn’t show in the Waking Realm.

Looking out the window, marvelling in the beauty of the half moon as it glowed amongst the stars you began to notice whispers. They were quiet to start with, just tickling the edges of your mind until they grew in strength. You couldn’t hear what was being said but intrigue pulled you from your hiding place. If you closed your eyes you could almost touch the whispers, muted colours danced just beyond your fingertips and you drew closer.

You ended up in a bedroom. The bed itself was a four-poster, dark wooded monster of grandeur. The man that lay in it was small, frail. His hair was grey and wrinkles lined his face. Bending down you inspected him closely, taking this moment to marvel in being close proximity to a human, feeling the uneven breath on your own face. It was then you realised the whispers were coming from him. You were hearing the echo of his dreams.

Bare feet padded with no noise against the rugs and wooden floorboards. Tentatively you descended the staircase, your hand sweeping down the bannister as the delicate fabric of your dress gently parted with each step. The house was dark with everyone asleep so you could explore in peace.

You found a room of books, so many books that rested unread from floor to ceiling. A drawing room lit by the dying embers of a fire, with hard leather back chairs and a grand desk. Another room you came across was filled with a long table and many chairs, far too many for the occupants of the house. Everything was tidy, in its place but you couldn’t help touching. Fingertips explored a large vase that sat on a sideboard, your hand trailed along a shelf of books feeling each bump as you moved from one spine to the next; even the leather chairs beckoned you to swipe them. It was all so fascinating but none of it helped you find Lord Morpheus.

Clutching the raven once again you frowned at the pulling sensation seemingly trying to pull you below the house. Carefully you walked in the dark, hands caressing the wooden panels in the hope you might find something you’d missed. There, another door. This one had a handle of metal and a hefty lock that drew your eye.

Shock cascaded through you as the handle moved, twisting with the clunk of the lock and a man came out, soft light spilling all over the carpet. You watched from your hiding place, crouched behind a huge sideboard as he lumbered towards the kitchen. Taking the opportunity you slipped through the open door and began to descend down the cold stone steps.

A soft orange light guided your way as you tentatively took each step as silently as possible. You happened upon a metal gate which the guard had thankfully left open and you slipped inside with the barest of whispers. Crouching in the corner you watched for any sign that you’d been noticed but the female guard carried on staring at her book.

Your gaze wandered, taking in the many pillars that split the room only to rest on a huge contraption in the very centre. It was round, huge bars of metal folded and melded around a glass bubble. Strange golden lettering encompassed the whole device, the magic was old with a feeling of wrongness to it. The same wrongness you’d felt within the Dreaming. You had to get closer. Carefully manoeuvring yourself across the stone slabs you quickly made your way to the device, avoiding touching the gold symbols incase they rendered you useless.

Your breath hitched at the sight of a pale form laying on the bottom. He was completely bare, his hair as dark as the night sky outside and his skin as bright as the stars that littered it. He seemed to be sleeping, his face partly hidden by his arm as he clearly tried to make himself comfortable. You couldn’t help but study him, taking in each line of his chisled body and you wondered what it felt like to touch such skin. Was he hard like marble? Smooth like ivory or did he feel just like a human. For human, he was not.

Cautiously you crouched down so you could see your own face reflected in the dirty glass but you were level with him. His eyes were shut, shoulders rising and falling in a steady rhythm to indicate he was fast asleep. The amulet was almost burning now, wanting to pull you closer to the man in the glass trap but you couldn’t cross the golden barrier.

Unfettered rage bloomed from somewhere deep within you. Fists curled tightly at the idea of these morals keeping the King of Dreams locked up for their own personal gain. This was why he hadn’t come home, why Lucienne had been left all those years and why his kingdom was dying. Because he was cut off from everything.

Resting a hand on the glass you wanted to tell him you’d be back, to let him know that help was here but then you remembered what Lucienne had said. Retreating back into the shadows you made your way back through the gate and up the steps until you reached the door. As you exited the male guard was coming out of the kitchen but there wasn’t time or anywhere for you to hide. Instinct told you to freeze and for a few nerve wracking heartbeats the pair of you stared at each other.

“Knew I forgot something,” he muttered to himself before turning back towards the kitchen. The raven amulet pulsed on your skin and you knew it was doing far more than you were aware. Without anymore hesitation you raced up the stairs, following the whispers once more. They sounded far off and muted, dull and grey just like the Dreaming. How humans had not noticed anything was wrong astounded you as you crouched beside his bed, leaning gently on the covers near his head. You closed your eyes, delving into the whispers, desperately trying to catch a slip of information when you heard a name. The human’s name.

“Paul…” with the barest whisper you infiltrated his nighttime thoughts. Weaving between the threads you coloured his visions showing him as well as telling him. “It’s time he was freed, Paul.” The man snuffled in his sleep, a frown deepening on his brow. “You cannot keep him here.”

“What must I do?” He mumbled.

“Break the binding circle. Cut through the magic and he will leave.” Your voice was light but commanding, the whispers burying into his subconscious like the seeds of an oak tree. Growing and entwining roots into the very reaches of his mind until he wouldn’t be able to think about anything else except breaking the binding circle.

Retreating into the darkness all you could do now was wait.

Dividers by: @firefly-graphics

#dream of the endless x reader #dream of the endless #morpheus x f!reader #lord morpheus #oneiros #morpheus x you #dream of the endless fic #the sandman #the sandman netflix #the sandman fanfic #the sandman fanfiction

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flightlessangelwings · 2 years

Text

Kinktober Day 19- Masturbation

Dream x gn!reader (no use of y/n)

Word Count- 989

Warnings-smut (18+ only), consensual voyeurism, established relationship, teasing

Notes- I loved writing this one so much!! I feel like smut with Dream is very delicate so this was a perfect prompt for him. And it was very important to me to keep this one gender neutral too. Enjoy! List provided by the lovely @the-purity-pen!

To say up to date on when I post, follow my update blog too and turn on post notifications @flightlessangelwings-updates. Reblogs highly appreciated!

You sighed as you sunk into your bed with your hand between your legs. Most nights were spent alone, but you had the image of a certain someone in your mind whenever you needed a release. You knew that being with the King of Dreams meant he had to be away from you for long periods at a time, and though you missed him terribly you understood.

But there were nights like this when the need within you was just too great to ignore, so you made yourself comfortable and ran your fingers along the front of your body. As you ghosted your skin with your fingertips, you imagined it was Dream instead caressing you. And when your hand reached its goal, you moaned his name as you pretended it was his hand and not yours.

A whimper escaped your lips as you worked yourself, and the room quickly felt warmer around you. You ran your hand across your chest as your other stayed between your legs and your mouth dropped open to let your moans flow freely. You arched your back as you pictured Dream hovering over you, his hands on your body instead of your own.

“Morpheus…” you breathed as you continued to pleasure yourself. The sounds of your arousal echoed in the room.

But the sound of your name in a familiar voice from your bedroom doorway made you freeze. You looked up, wide eyed as the man you just fantasized about stood just a few feet away from you. His eyes held an intensity that made you gasp, but he also had a slight smirk on his face.

“Enjoying yourself, are we?” he teased.

A rush of nerves ran through you, “I’d enjoy myself more if you were over here instead.”

Dream’s body stiffened as a tinge of red highlighted his cheeks, “You know, I can hear your voice louder than anyone else when you do that…”

“That’s why I do it,” your voice dropped as you suddenly felt bolder. This wasn’t the first time you thought of him while you touched yourself, and every time you did, you secretly hoped he would hear you and come to you. Tonight, you finally got what you wished for.

His jaw tightened as he swallowed hard. It took a lot for Dream to lose his composure, but seeing you spread out on the bed like that awoke something in him. And knowing that you imagined it was him with you made his pants feel tighter.

“Are you just going to stand there and watch?” you cooed as you shimmied your shoulders subtly and moved your hand away to fully expose yourself to him.

Dream’s gaze intensified, and for a moment you thought he was about to pounce on you like a cat on its prey. But, instead, he played it cooler and toyed with you right back, “Yes,” he hissed.

You let out a pathetic whine as you pouted.

“Let me watch you,” Dream’s voice was dangerously low as his hands balled into fists, “Show me how beautiful you are when you think of me.”

His words went right to your core and you felt a fresh wave of arousal crash through you. Unable to disobey him even if you wanted to, you traced your hand along your body. You grabbed your chest and gave it a squeeze before you ran your fingers over your nipples. A gasp escaped your lips at the sensation, and your skin burned as you felt Dream’s eyes watching your every move.

You whimpered as you moved your hand across your chest and gave the other side the same treatment. All the while, you felt yourself getting more and more turned on. And so was Dream.

He groaned softly through his gritted teeth as he watched you play with yourself, and as you ran your hands down the front of your body, it was harder and harder for him to keep still. “That’s it,” he encouraged you in a low grumble.

The moment your hand reached between your legs again, you let out a loud moan. Your hand was almost instantly covered in slick from your arousal and both you and Dream had never been more turned on in your lives.

Dream braced himself against your doorway as he watched you work yourself once more. Your hips bucked into your hands as the sounds of your wetness filled the room. The way you cried out made him growl, and he almost didn’t recognize the sound that came from deep in his chest.

“Oh fuck… Morpheus… I’m gonna…”

“Do it,” he grunted, “Show me how I make you fall apart… Show me how beautiful you look when you cum with my name on your lips.”

“Fuuuuck… Morpheus!” you screamed as you bucked your hips as your climax washed over you. Your entire body trembled as wave after wave of pleasure crashed through you. And even through your intense orgasm, you still felt Dream’s eyes on you.

As you came down from your high, you suddenly felt embarrassed at what just happened. You wanted it, for sure, but being under Dream’s piercing gaze made you feel sheepish. Your skin burned as you fumbled to cover yourself, but a rush of movement and a firm grip on your wrist stopped you.

“Morpheus?”

“Don’t,” his voice was low as he touched his forehead to yours, “Don’t feel embarrassed, my sweet,” Dream’s words and tone soothed you and your shoulders dropped, “That was lovely.”

A soft laugh escaped your lips before you reached up and cupped his face. Dream exhaled sharply, not being used to this type of affectionate touch. But, much like you did, he quickly relaxed, calmed by your presence. Slowly, you closed the gap between your faces and placed a soft and tender kiss on his lips.

“Will you join me now?” you whispered against his lips.

Dream smirked subtly as he murmured, “Yes.”

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