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#dream of the endless fluff
Note
hello, can i request
the reader is getting frustrated because she is having trouble coming, so she tries to fake it. Morpheus figures out what she's trying to do because he knows how her pussy feels when she's tight around him, so he gets mad and stops, leaving her wanting for the next few days....then when he finally gives in , is she sharpened all night as punishment? I hope this makes some kind of sense.
Good Thing
Dream of the Endless x Reader
Summary: Lord Morpheus does not appreciate you faking it and your sweet dream turns into a nightmare.
Word Count: 2k+
Warnings: fem!reader, petty!dream, MDNI, smut (pwp, free use, overstimulation, dom/sub dynamics, light sadism, vaginal penetration, edging, temperature play, cunninglingus), typos, etc.
A/N: this has been in my drafts for ages T_T me so sorry. but ya know nonnie, what was so wild, when you sent this i was reading an aemond targaryen fic with he exact same prompt i was sent into orbit Tagging: @pinksirensong @aralezinspace @sloanexx @deniixlovezelda @shadow-pancake9
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I squirm as I am hoisted on his lap. I feel Dream's hot breath on my neck. My flesh was spilling between his fingers as he kneaded them. My hands were shaking as they latched around his neck.
He felt good. He felt so good-- he really did. But I was exhausted.
Dream brushes his nose against me, palms by the curve of my hips as he maneuvered me in sync with his movements. He snapped into me with a need that could not be quelled. His thighs and abdomen were hot and sticky with my slick. My whole body was burning with sweat and remnants of the multiple orgasms he's left me, he's left in me. He mutters against my ear, his deep voice making my shaky one even more unstable, "one more, my love."
One more.
But see, he's been saying this for hours.
And when I say hours, I mean there's no sense of time in the Dreaming, and he's taken fuck me to oblivion way to fuckin' seriously. And yet -
"I assure you," he crooned as he clutched the back of my head when it got too heavy for me to keep up, "my sister will not touch you. I will not let her take what's mine. She will not come near you," he sucks on my skin, "not when I have you in such a servile state."
Fuck me.
And he did.
And he was.
Still is.
My head rested on his shoulder. My body jolted with each of his thrusts. I felt my eyes water all over again, and now even my mouth was crying. I dribble on his skin as I whine, "D-Dream."
"Shhh," he kisses my head, "let me relax," he holds me firm in my place, "we have an arrangement, don't we? You want me to do this, don't you?"
I whimper when his thumb rubs on my oversensitive nub, "p-please-"
"I know," he tuts, "I know," he purrs, claiming my mouth with his, "just one more. Can you not give your beloved king one more sweet orgasm? Don't you want me to relax, darling? You said you'd let me do anything I want-"
"Dream-"
He sits up straighter, "and I want to feel you take pleasure in my love making."
A tired cry leaves my mouth.
"I need you to feel how much I love you, my jewel," he licks my neck and nips on my skin, "one more time."
"B-but you've been s-saying that-- for hours," I feel tears streak my cheeks.
He nods and licks my tears, "I swear to you, my love," his fingers dig into my flesh, "one last rupture is all I will ask of you now."
"Promise?" I blurt desperately.
Dream peppers kisses on my neck, "you have my word."
And fair enough, fair enough, he did promise me relief after. The words of an Endless were not fickle and I should have trusted in him. I mean I did! I do! But my mortal body could only take so much and so, I did what I had to do.
I faked it.
I faked it and immediately he stopped.
Thank. Goodness.
At least... it was a thank goodness in that moment.
I caught my breath as I melted like putty on him, allowing my body to bathe in its exhaustion though I did not feel pleasure from the squirming show I just put on.
Dream's hold on me relaxes. His hands come to my thighs as he adjusted me on him.
"T-thank you," I mutter.
"What was that?"
I heave as I look at him, "I said t-"
"You did not finish," he cuts, one hand coming to my back to keep me in place as he pulled back to scowl at me.
My silence proved me guilty. My stutter decided my sentence.
Dream's nostril flare and his jaw hardens, "hmmm." He reaches out for my face and pushes back my sweat soaked hair, "did you think I would not realize?"
I squeak when he pulls me off him and sets me down on his side. I fidget as I feel the cushion of the bed on my swollen, dampened thighs. I reposition myself uncomfortably as he leans on his knees and sighs.
"Dream-"
"I will not forget this."
"... w-what?"
Dream turns to me, eyes darker than normal, face tense and clearly irritated, "you will learn not to resort to trickery with me, insolent girl."
Well, fuck. "My love-"
I don't get to speak as he stands and eyes me in disdain, "if you do not want me to touch you-"
"I didn't say I don't want you to touch-"
"-then I shall have my leave and keep my hands to myself."
I sigh in frustration as I watch him walk away from me. I crumble on the bed and slam my head on the sheets. I look up and see he's already by the door, his clothing already manifested on him, "Dream. Dream, please-"
Dream reaches for the knob and slams the door shut on his way out.
For the next week, the whole Dreaming would be walking on eggshells around their king and it was all my doing.
A harsh winter fell on the Dreaming. Everyone was fighting for their life in the cold and I could no longer let them suffer because of my unintended offence and his exaggerated pettiness.
I manage to get Mervyn make Dream go to the throne room.
The throne room echoes, "so, you've resorted to trickery once more, brat."
I turn over my shoulder and jolt when I see Dream already looming over me. I clutch my chest as I look up at him, "don't be ridiculous. Am I not guest who can ask for the attention of the king?"
"No," he rebuts.
The windows of the throne room begin to get battered by hail. I flinch when a large, icy stone breaks through the glass. I turn to the thing on the floor, back to the being that was the reason why there was an eternal frost, "Dream, please-"
"So, I do not please you?" his voice reverberates through my rib cage as his form is obscured and grows larger.
My heart races as I reach out and try to touch him. My hands go through his form and I whimper, "my love."
He growls.
I gasp when his icy hand takes my cheek.
"You have offended me beyond reparation."
I flinch at his touch. Cold begins to creep up on me. I bite back the quip lingering on my tongue. How dramatic of him.
I try to reach out to him again and this time, he lets me touch him. I feel something like shoulders and I pull on him, "puppy, please-"
"Do not insult me," he barks, face coming into view as he looks down on me, "I've had enough of you."
A shiver runs down my spine.
His hand dig into the roots of my hair. He pulls my locks back and tilts my head up, "so..." he inhales deeply, "how shall I get retribution? What will you to to appease me?"
My pulse quickens. I bite my lip, "anything."
He scoffs, "and have you trick me again?"
"I -" I shudder when he circles around me, "I promise I won't complain. I'll be a good girl."
"I do not believe you," he leans into my neck from behind, "insect."
Goosebumps form on my skin, "Dream-"
He places a hand on my mouth, "silence."
I squeal into his hand and do my best not to squirm at the ice cold of his palm now scouring my body. He breathes against my skin and I flinch at the cold.
"Oh," he mocks, hand coming off my mouth, "are you cold, my love?"
I suck in a sharp breath, "y-yes."
He hums and kisses my jaw. His lips are ice cold, "my poor girl."
I flinch when his hands trace upward underneath my shirt, "perhaps removing your clothes will help you," he pulls my top off, "don't you agree?"
I shiver and pant at the notion.
"Well?" he coaxes.
I find myself nodding, "y-yes."
Dream kisses my cheek repeatedly, "very good."
He turns me around and begins to strip me naked. I begin to shiver more violently when I'm left bare. I feel my nose begin to clog.
Fuck, I'm going to die.
"D-D-Dream," I shudder, "I'm fre-eezing."
He pulls me into his chest. He is an icicle. He caresses my cheeks, "shhh," he leans in and kisses me, "you're mine. Nothing else will touch you but me," he lifts me up, "isn't that right?"
"R-r-r-r-ight," I wrap my legs around him.
I let out a hiss when I am upon a cold surface. I realize then that I was sat on his throne.
I continue to shiver as he pulls away and looks down on me. He tilts his head as snow begins to powder the room, "you will not touch me," he bends down, "am I understood?"
I nod quickly as I watch him drop to his knees.
He sighs, steam wafting up from his lips, "good girl."
I hiss, nails digging into the armrest, when his suddenly hot fingers touch my shaking knees and part them, "sweet Mary- fuck-"
He snorts, steam coming out of his nostrils, "you will not say any other name but mine."
I pant heavily as he takes my legs and throw them over his shoulder. I whine and so badly want to grab at him when I feel how warm he is. I lean into him and cry out when his mouth connects with my freezing skin. My belly quakes for multiple reasons when his large hand rubs my skin. My nails scrape the wood on the armrest. I scream his name out helplessly.
He sighs in satisfaction. I hear him in my head: very good.
I screw my eyes shut and rut into him, "please let me touch you."
"Never," he rather instantaneously retorts.
It continues like this. I tremble at his ministrations while snow continues to build all over the throne room, save for the area around him.
"Fuck," I shake off snow from my shoulder. I flinch when I feel his tongue working on me. I could barely feel my fingers though my lower half was warm, "p-please, my hands-"
My cries fall deaf on his ears.
It continues like this up until my voice is hoarse and my calves are shaking at the feel of him eating me up.
"F-fu- D-Dream-"
"Mmm," he finally looks up at me, face wet with slick and saliva.
Fuck, I hate him but he was so pretty. "P-please- m-my hands," I shudder."
I could see the warmth radiating off him, "what of your hands, little bug?"
"T-they're so cold-"
I whimper when he takes my hands and places them on his cheeks, "better?"
I nod, "thank y-you."
Dream smiles softly, placing a burning kiss on the inside of my thigh, "good girl."
My belly spasms when I feel his hot breath on my core again, "tell me. Will my beautiful toy trick her master again?"
I let out a overwhelmed sound when he slowly sinks his teeth into my aching core. I arch my back and dig my fingers in his hair, pulling firmly. My toes curl as I whimper, "n-no."
He hums against me. It makes me squeal.
He takes my legs and pushes me back, hanging my legs on the armrest, "you swear it to me?"
I whimper when he pulls away from my thighs and rises to his feet to kiss me. I bring him close and relish the feel of his warmth, "yes," I sink my face into his neck and rub my cheek on his skin, "yes! I swear, I swear-"
"Mmm," he places his arms around me, "I believe you."
Dream rubs his hands down my shoulders then my thighs and pulls back.
I look up at him as snowflakes fall onto his hair and lashes. He smiles at me then rubs my cheek with his warm hand, "best find your clothes in the snow, my love. It would be unfortunate if you caught a cold."
"W-What?"
With that, he retreats and wraps his coat around himself.
I shiver and watch my breath condense in the air Dream walks off, treading easily through the snow.
When I realize what was happening, I curl into myself and feel my body shake. Was it the cold? Anger? Betrayal? Who knew.
"Come quick, pretty girl. I will prepare a cup of tea for you in the kitchen," he calls over his shoulder, licking his lips as he heads for the door.
I hiss when I attempt to step into the snow. I whimper and look up as I clutch my chest, "you're not seriously leaving me? Dream?! DREAM!"
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writethrough · 2 months
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Hello! I just finished reading your Morpheus fics and I absolutely love them! So I thought about requesting something, too. Morpheus x reader where reader is feeling well and calls for him. They spend all evening togheter after a long time. reading togheter, watching some movies, talking and sharing their thoughts... until Morpheus notice it’s really late, almost midnight, and it’s time for reader to sleep, but she doesn't want to ‘cause Morpheus is always busy and she misses spending time with him, even whe she's asleep lately he was never there. Morpheus feels guilty and promises her he’ll be more present, especially in her dreams. A nice ending where he stays with her until she falls asleep, and him appearing in her dreams as he promised? Thank you 💖
A Homemade Remedy
(Morpheus x Female Reader)
Synopsis: After days of dealing with your sickness by yourself, you give in and call your boyfriend, hoping he'll come.
Warnings: Minor language
Word Count: 815
A/N: Stop two on the apology tour. I'm so sorry this has taken so long! And I want to thank you profusely for your patience. And for sending the request in. I really hope you enjoy this fluffy little fic!
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Normally, you wouldn’t bother Morpheus with this. He had more important things to deal with instead. But you felt as if Death would appear at any moment, and all you wanted was some comfort from your boyfriend. 
You pressed the ruby pendant he gifted you to your heart, croaking his name. 
“Beloved?” 
You blinked, seemingly slower than usual. 
“Hi,” you whispered, covers pulled to your chin. 
He took you in for a few moments, brows pinched slightly. You could only tell he was worried because of how long you’d known him. 
“You are unwell.” 
“S’just a—” A coughing fit started, only ceasing when he handed you your glass of water. “Just a cold.” 
Between the tissues piled in the trash beside your bed, the bottle of medication without its lid, and the two additional blankets on top of you, he knew that wasn’t the case. You’d been here much longer than a few hours. 
“Why did you not call for me when your ailment began?” 
And there it was, the look you were dreading the more you prolonged summoning him. You’re not even sure he’s aware of his “kicked puppy” look. 
You shrugged, pulling the covers just below your nose.  
Morpheus made no sound—as graceful and Endless as ever. The only indication he had moved was the lifting of your blankets as he slid in behind you. 
“Turn around, my love.” 
You were far too weak and needy to refuse. 
Settling with your head on his thigh, he rested a hand on your hair. 
“I am here now, and I will take care of you,” he said. “Whatever you may need, I will gather.” 
“Just this.” Your voice barely carried on a whisper. 
“Then here I shall remain.” 
Morpheus always spoke softer than you would expect while still containing all the authority in the universe, but it sounded even softer. It held gentleness—kindness—a quality that said, “You are precious to me.” 
“What about the Dreaming?” you asked, eyes closed. 
“In Lucienne’s capable hands,” he replied without hesitation. You were so considerate of him and his duties, for once, he wished you’d be selfish.  
“What if she needs you?” Even as you said this, your arm settled over his lap. 
“She has looked after my realm much longer than you will be ill.” 
You squeezed him as best you could at the reminder. You didn’t like to think about what had happened to him. Though you met long after that, it hurt to know someone could do that to another being—human or not. 
Morpheus had reassured you he had healed. Much of that having to do with you. 
“Could you read to me, then?” you asked. 
A book appeared in seconds, his voice matching perfectly to the cadence of the lines. It didn’t matter what he was saying, hearing him speak in that hypnotic rumble was enough. Even the flipping of the page didn’t distract you. He was captivating from the first word. 
He’d read two chapters when your stomach growled. 
“When did you last eat?” His smile was soft, thumb grazing your arm. 
You shrugged, not wanting to be scolded. 
“Can you eat?” 
You weren’t sure if it was how shitty you were feeling, how tired you were, or how helpless you felt, but his words went straight to your heart. 
He considered how you might feel. He wasn’t pushing you to eat, but asking if you thought you could stomach anything. He wanted to help, but not at the risk of causing you more discomfort. 
You nodded, keeping your eyes closed so he wouldn’t see them watering. 
“Here.” He helped you sit up before picking up the bowl of broth that had manifested on the nightstand. 
You went to grab it, but he tutted, picking the spoon up himself and bringing it to your mouth. 
“I can feed myself,” you said after swallowing. 
“I know,” he said. “Please. Let me help you.” 
You ate the next spoonful without complaint, and soon, the bowl was empty. 
“Thank you,” you mummered, head nestled into the crook of his shoulder. 
“It’s late, you must rest,” he whispered into your hair. 
You shook your head, and tried to snuggle yourself closer to him, like if you planted yourself firmly enough, he wouldn’t be able to leave. 
“Haven’t seen you in forever,” you mumbled. “Don’t wanna waste it.” 
Guilt flooded Morpheus. He knew he had been neglectful of you, but you had been so patient with him. You were the embodiment of understanding—and he had taken advantage of that. 
“Go to sleep, dear one. I will meet you in the Dreaming.” His lips pressed to your crown. 
You hummed, head growing heavy. 
And when your eyes opened, there he was, holding you as you laid in his chambers. 
He smiled fondly, brushing your chin with his knuckles. 
“What shall we do now, my love?” 
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Taglist: @sayumiht, @hatterripper31, @snowsatsu, @1950schick, @navs-bhat, @bookshelf-dust, @sapphireonline, @fictional-hooman, @steph-speaks, @ladyredstar1991, @secretdreamlandmentality, @ababycake, @morpheuss1mp, @boofy1998, @alice-the-nerd, @herfantasyworldd, @poemfreak306, @tronnily, @commanderfreethatdust
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morpheusbaby3 · 1 year
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Morpheus telling Lucienne about the problems he has been through:
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silversweetpea · 1 year
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A Promise Made
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word count: 1543
Summary: It dawns on him, in that moment, that you are much more fragile than he had expected. And equally so that this revelation unsettles him.
Warnings: Offscreen injury mentions, Reader gets lightheaded and slightly dizzy from blood loss. 
Author’s Note: It is four am and I would like to imagine a bit of a protective situation as a bedtime story thanks. Also I’m not sure how I feel about this writing because I’m worried that the style is too similar to other writings i’ve done but again, it’s four am, I don’t know if I can trust my own opinions here. 
❀✿❀✿ ❀✿❀✿ ❀✿❀✿ ❀✿❀✿ ❀✿❀✿ ❀✿❀✿
Dream was a difficult man shaped amalgamation to read, but that never stopped you from trying. Telling the difference between jaw clench of amusement and jaw clench of anger never got easier in the months since Johanna had called in an old favor for some help and you had met him, but you had  a feeling you knew what emotion it was that darkened his gaze in this moment.
“I’m fine.” You said again, and you had to commend yourself on keeping the shake from your voice. The nightmare hadn’t seriously hurt you, part of you wondered if it would have though had Dream not found you when he did. Splitting up had seemed like a good idea at the time, it had made more sense to cover more ground, ask more people who they may or may not know the locations of. Even nightmares had friends, after all. 
Dream hadn’t moved an inch in the chair beside your bed since you woke swaddle in the comforters. You didn’t know the details of what had happened after you passed out, there was just a vague memory of fear and then safety. 
“Dream-” His gaze didn’t move from the bandages across your chest. A precaution, nothing more, but the wrappings were large enough to peek up under the collar of your shirt. There was a thought that maybe he hadn’t heard you that was gone as quick as it came when he spoke.
“When you are healed, I will have Mathew escort you home. Your assistance is no longer required.” The safety you had felt was a distant memory replaced with a chill.
“Excuse me?”
“I will find the rogue nightmare on my own.” Dream stood, eyes snapping shut. There was something in his features, or maybe the way that he held himself, that made your entire being bristle.
“The whole reason you asked Johanna for help was because you couldn’t.” Your body ached ever so slightly as you forced yourself into a sitting position. The sound of the bed creaking seemed to startle him, those eyes you had such complicated feelings for finally meeting yours. “This is ridiculous I’ve been more than helpful in this whole ordeal and you’re going to just send me home because of a scratch?”
“(y/n),” He took a step closer to the bed, hand reaching up as if to usher you back down to rest. A motion that never quite finished as his hand hovered in the space between you. It took you only another second to force yourself to your feet and enter his personal space.
“No, I want to see this through. I told you I would help and I’m going to.” You had never thought of the king of dreams and nightmares as a particularly intimidating person. Sure, he was brooding, but in a wet cat sort of way. Tall and lanky and dark, yet never scary, not when you had seen him so gentle with his friends.
“I do not want your help, nor do I need it any longer.” The words that should sting instead make you scoff. You were nearly toe to toe with him now, the hand that had hovered so noncommittedly in the air still airborne. 
“And why’s that? Did you suddenly find her while I was passed out here?” It occurred to you for the first time that Dream was taller than he had ever been. He seemed to tower over you. It was harder to ignore the chill you felt this time than when you had been wrapped in blankets. “Or maybe the asshole that tried to kill me had a bit more information than I thought and you know exactly where she is now?”
“This is not up for discussion.” His narrowed gaze draws out a scoff. 
“You’re being ridiculous. You can choose not to work with me but I’m going to help you.” The room spins ever so slightly as you turn to leave the room. You weren’t sure where you were going to go yet but you were sure you would figure it out as you went. The library maybe? Lucienne was busy but she knew more about the kingdom than anyone right now.
You had barely made it to the door before you could feel the soft pressure of a hand around your wrist.
“It would help me more,” Dream’s voice was soft and strained. As if the things he was saying pained him to put to words. “to know that you are safe.”
The room spins slightly harder and it occurs to you that maybe the nightmare had gouged you a bit more than you thought. The turn to face him is slower than any you have ever made and behind you you can glimpse the window. It isn’t quite raining out but the sky is unnaturally dark, clouds swirling like the stars in his eyes.
“What?” You can’t remember if blood loss can cause you to mishear people. You don’t want to risk embarrassing yourself even if it’s not. 
“I could not protect you in my realm. How can I trust in my ability to do the same outside of it?” The silence feels deafening, like a creature with its own presence trying to pry the two of you apart. You try not to focus on its weight, however, instead distinctly aware of the fact that Dream is still holding your wrist. His touch is cooler than you had thought it would be but not quite unpleasant. In fact its quite the opposite. 
“And you think sending me away will keep me safer than if I stayed with a literal king of dreams and nightmares? Really?” Your voice tremors and your skin feels electric from the contact. You want to rip your hand from his grasp and take his hand in both of your own at the same time. “Do you know how many beings out there would love to catch me alone right now?”
“You will not be alone, you will have Constantine.” Dream’s voice was barely more than a whisper. You wouldn’t think his lips had moved at all had you not been watching his face so carefully. 
"You’re being an idiot,” The clouds are darker now, you hadn’t thought it possible but the sky seems to be absorbing the light that tries to warm it. 
“You need to rest.” For the first time since you met Dream seems to be genuine in asking instead of assuming you will follow through with what he says. It almost makes up for the way that his eyes flit to your point of connection and slowly releases his grasp.
“Do you promise to be here when I wake up?” The bedroom is suffocatingly small in this moment, not helped by the waves of nausea rushing over your person. 
“Why must you be so obstinate?” For what is meant to be an insult, Dream’s gaze and and tone are softer than one would expect. Or maybe not. For all the times the two of you have bickered you’re not sure you can remember ever hearing any sort of heat in his words towards you.
“Its the only way I can get you to notice me.” Usually your remark would earn you a slight smile, maybe a particularly strong exhale if Dream is particularly amused. Now though, you see only concern.
“I notice you regardless of your temperament.” You’re not even aware you’re reaching out until the man startles ever so slightly. Heaviness weighs upon your body and your grip tightens just barely. Just enough to try and pull him back from the way his thoughts visibly surround him.
“Dream,”  Blue eyes search your own but you’re not sure what he’s looking for. His height is returning to that which you’re familiar with and its strange to see. To watch him shrink and soften before you all the while holding his hand in your grasp. Even as Dream nods, a just barely there movement you’re not even sure of at first, you think that he looks better this way. Familiar is good on him. So is Kind.
It’s easier to lean into him than you had thought it would be. The hand you insist on holding begins to gently steer you both back towards the bed, his free hand circling to hover over your lower back.
“Rest, we can continue this conversation when you awaken.” You’re scared to loose contact with him in case your...whatever Dream is at this point, will slip away in a moments notice. Even as he convinces you to sit you’re not entirely convinced that he’s not just waiting for a moment to usher you back to the waking.
“Do you promise?” Its your turn to whisper as you allow him to help you back to bed. For a heart stopping moment he stands at your bedside and you think he’s leaving. 
And then, the chair is pulled closer to the bed, enough so that his knees touch the side of the mattress when he sits.
“I give you my word.” Dream’s voice is warm and soothing as hot chocolate on a winter night and from the window behind you you notice sunlight begin to filter through the window. 
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stevesbestgirl · 10 months
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Dreamweaver
Dream of the Endless x f!Reader
Warnings: mentions of depression, a few curses, briefly mean!Morpheus, soulmate tattoo bs, I took liberties with the lore
A/N: I started this forever ago when I was dealing with some stuff with my brother, so if it feels like a self-insert 🤷‍♀️ (no descriptions of reader's appearance)
5775 words
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"Dream."
Lord Morpheus, also known as Dream of the Endless, raised his head from his desk, where he was pouring over a book.
"Dream!"
He heaved a sigh, pinching the bridge of his nose before standing.
"Dream of the Endless, I hold your sigil and I call to you."
"Yes Death, I am on my way to my gallery as we speak."
"Forget your gallery, come here."
Morpheus suppressed a sigh. But with a sound suspiciously like the flutter of a raven's feathers, Dream disappeared from his library, appearing instead beside his sister. Death's gaze did not waver; she appeared to be watching a young pair seated on a mattress on the floor of a simple bedroom. One, a young woman, seemed to be comforting the other, a young man with enough resemblance to be a sibling.
Dream spared only a quick glance, "Why am I here, sister?"
Death finally tore her gaze from the two mortals, "Can't you see it?"
Morpheus watched the pair again, unsure of what he was supposed to be seeing.
"Maybe I'm just bad. That's why she left." Dream could see the wisps of despair puffing up around the boy, evaporating like drops of water on a hot pan.
"You took the fall when I broke Mallory's lamp when we were ten. Don't tell me you're bad," the woman insisted despite her soft tone. "And nothing you did made Bella leave."
"Yeah, I guess so."
Dream's gaze swiveled back to his sister, "I am unsure what it is I should be seeing."
Death huffed impatiently, "Open your mind for just one moment and consider that a mortal may surprise you." When he still stared at her, his jaw growing tight with impatience, she rolled her eyes, "She's dream weaving, Dream. You of all people should be able to tell."
"The dream weavers died out hundreds of years ago."
Death grabbed her stubborn brother by the shoulder, twisting him to face the girl again, "Watch."
Dream watched, albeit a bit disdainful, as the young woman continued to speak. She offered musings about their past. Their childhood seemed to have been a difficult one. But she made jokes, reminiscing and reflecting on what they could learn- how they could create better for themselves. And then he saw it.
Human consciousness, all consciousness really, clung to the Dreaming with tethers. Needless to say, humans clung particularly closely compared to most other sentient life. Each dream, though they varied in strength, was a connection to the dreaming. When a being began to lose the will to live, those tethers weakened.
Her brother's tethers were weak; not quite on the brink of severing, but looking rather exhausted. And while it wasn't possible for her to strengthen the tethers- only their owner could do that, she was reinforcing their connection to the Dreaming. The dreams she was sharing were indeed woven into an intricate web, right on the cusp of his realm.
Her own web was vast, ethereal silver glimmering in elaborate knots and designs, each one a waking dream. This girl's very existence was tied up in his realm.
His only show of emotion was a small parting of his lips, but that was enough for Death. "I told you so."
Dream said nothing, watching the girl speak.
"What are you thinking, brother?" Death prompted, clearly awaiting some kind of response.
"It appears that a new age of Dreamweavers may be upon us, sister."
"Are you going to speak to her?"
"I suppose I am duty-bound to make contact. Soon, more like her will appear, if they haven't already. If they go on unsupervised, they could damage the realm."
Death cocked an eyebrow, "Why do you sound so reluctant? You've never had issue with dream weavers in the past, have you?"
"Not yet. But I have an odd feeling about this one."
*
After departing with Death, Morpheus tasked Matthew with keeping an eye on the girl. She stayed with her brother through the night, the pair of them departing early in the morning and returning a short while later with what appeared to be a third sibling.
Only once the two young men were in each other's company did the girl leave, returning to her own home a short distance away.
She seemed lost in her own thoughts as she puttered around the house, cleaning up odds and ends before changing into a tee-shirt and climbing into bed. Underneath her eyes, dark circles were beginning to swell. She was exhausted.
Morpheus almost felt bad for her; this sleep would not be as restful as she might be expecting.
*
Y/N always had vivid dreams, both waking and while asleep. But she immediately knew tonight was different. Dressed in nothing but her tee-shirt and underwear, her bare feet were chilled against the dark stone floor underfoot.
A shadowed figure sat in a throne at the head of the large room, as though waiting for her.
"Hello?" She took a hesitant step forward, hands clinging to the too-short hem of her tee-shirt, which was barely covering the tops of her thighs.
"Approach, Y/L, L/N."
She did as the voice instructed, stepping forward on unsteady legs. It was male, authoritative and nearly stern. But it wasn't aggressive, or even raised in volume. He simply spoke and expected compliance.
It was also beautiful, deeply toned and unrushed in its delivery. He had an accent she couldn't identify, her mind reeling with thoughts as she approached the throne, still cloaked in shadow.
She felt exposed, painfully aware of his gaze on her. She gave her shirt another nervous tug down, trying to make sure she was covered. Swallowing the lump in her throat, she asked, "What is this place?"
The silence stretched, her fingers abandoning the hem of her shirt in favor of fidgeting with the cuticles of her fingernails. But her hands parted hastily and she sucked in a gasp as she suddenly found herself fully clothed in a pair of dark jeans, socks, boots, and a black jacket over her tee-shirt.
She was relieved for both the privacy and warmth granted by the clothes, but her heart was pounding at the magic, "Am I dreaming?"
The figure remained in shadow, "Yes," he confirmed. "But more importantly, you are in the Dreaming."
She blinked, willing her eyes to make out the figure in the dark as questions bubbled up inside her, "And that would make you-?"
He rose slowly from his chair, towering over her at his full height, somehow still shrouded in shadow, "I am Dream of the Endless, creator of the Dreaming, King of Nightmares."
It suddenly became quite clear to her as she gazed up at him that he wanted her to be intimidated. The question of why still loomed.
"King of Dreams then too, right?" She couldn't find it within herself to give him the reaction he wanted, king or no king.
His voice remained level, "Yes."
"Am I forbidden from laying eyes on the King of Dreams?" She cocked her eyebrow, only slightly, in a challenge. She took a step backwards, inviting him to step into the light.
There was another long pause before he answered, "No, you are not." But instead of moving, the shadows seemed to loosen, pale skin blooming behind the darkness until his face was wholly visible.
It seemed the perfect match for his voice, slim with sharp cheekbones and a shock of deep ebony hair. Long, dark lashes framed his eyes, which were dark, almost entirely black in a way that should have been eerie. But they glimmered like stars, little specks of light dancing deep within their depths and seeming to invite her inside. She felt as though she was falling forward until the darkness swallowed her up.
But inside was far from dark. It was a massive stretch of blackness, yes, but far from nothing. The black was a canvas, swirling with color and light and looking like entire galaxies.
A mess of incoherent thought washed over her, driving her own thoughts from her mind. The galaxy showed her a beautiful woman. She felt insecurity, fear, but also something warm and safe she could only describe as love. Then she saw the sun, but the sun as she'd never seen it before. The sun through the eyes of someone who couldn't go blind. And then came pain, rejection, grief-
"You should not be here."
Then she was back in the throne room, balled up on the floor, her cheeks wet with tears. She sat up, hastily wiping her cheeks, but Dream was already hauling her up by the shoulder of her tee-shirt, her extra layer of clothing stripped away in an instant, "You dare to invade my mind?" His dulcet tones were reduced to a mere hiss. "As the King of Dreams, it is my responsibility to warn you that if you or others like you meddle in the affairs of my realm, it will cost you dearly. It seems that every time I show compassion to a human, you are determined to make me regret it. Cross my path again and you will not receive such mercy a second time."
She wanted to plead with him, to make him understand that it had been an accident. She didn't even understand what she'd done- were those his thoughts?
His change in demeanor stung more than it should have. But his sudden rage combined with what little she'd seen made it clear he would not leave himself vulnerable to her, and perhaps for good reason.
"I apologize for any offense, it was not my intent. I will do my best not to get in your way again." She offered him a sad smile, "And I'm sorry for your suffering."
His eyes glimmered in a brooding smolder and then she found herself jolting awake in her bed, a sheen of sweat glittering on her skin. She made a half-hearted attempt to tell herself it had only been a dream, but there was no denying what she'd seen- what she'd felt.
She felt out of place going back to her everyday life, but her work wouldn't wait for her. And there was plenty left to do for her brother, so she put it behind her, hoping that whatever she had done to draw the King of Dreams' ire was a one-time thing. Their interaction had left a lingering bad taste in her mouth.
She had hoped that her responsibilities would drive the memory from the front of her consciousness, but it continued to creep up on her each time she had a moment to breathe, haunting her rare moments of rest with nightmares. She suspected the King of Nightmares was wholly capable of sentencing her to a lifetime of nighttime terrors, but she wasn't convinced this was his intention. But if she was connected to Dream, as he'd called himself, the only way to fix it would be to visit the Dreaming again.
And now she was thinking about it again. She gave herself a shake; she had another long night ahead of her. So she turned up the music in her car and left for her brother's apartment.
*
"I thought I might see you back here, brother." Death looked smug as Dream appeared beside her in the same place they'd watched from last time.
"And why are you here again, Death?"
"To catch you in the act, obviously."
Dream made a disapproving noise at her joke, but didn't press further. He watched as she and her brother played a video game together. He'd done some reading in her book after her uninvited foray into his mind, though mostly out of spite. It had done nothing to reassure him that he'd acted appropriately.
Her childhood had not been an easy one. Teenage parents, poverty, and drug use had rendered her functional guardian to her two younger siblings at a young age. Once he arrived at the abuse resulting from her first romantic relationship, he'd stopped reading.
The two Endless watched for quite some time before speaking again, but surprisingly to Death, it was Dream who broke the silence. "Why are you truly here, sister?"
"It is part of my responsibilities to check on the humans whose ties grow weak."
"Do you spend this long on every one?"
She huffed a sigh, "No." Stealing a glance at Y/N, she admitted, "When she weaves the dreams, that strengthens the connection, giving a weak tie more time to recover."
Dream tipped his head, "Yes, as you explained last time."
"I'm starting to suspect that the dream she's woven around the center tether may be permanent."
"Is such a thing possible?"
"I don't know. Like you said, this could be a new kind of dream weaver." They both watched her laugh, drawing a laugh from her brother as well. "I wish I could just ask her what she's capable of."
Dream looked back on the way the girl had collapsed in his throne room, realization making his stomach sink, "She is unaware of her abilities."
"As far as I can tell." At Dream's silence, Death glanced at him sharply, "Why do I get the sense that you may have done something foolish?"
Dream was silent, reassessing his interaction with this new information. He'd brought her into his realm, exposed and confused, then put on a show of being intimidating and immediately lost his temper, resorting to threats and expulsion.
He refused to feel shame over actions taken to protect his realm, but he couldn't identify the strange pit that seemed to have opened in his gut. She likely thought him a monster, a nightmare himself instead of their king.
"Dream, what did you do?"
Death's voice broke him from his stupor, though he kept his gaze on the girl, "I brought her to my realm and lost my temper."
Death couldn't suppress an eye roll, but Dream didn't seem to notice, "What was it this time?"
"I suspect one of those new abilities allows her access to memory."
There was a long pause. "She got inside that thick skull of yours?"
Dream broke his gaze to send his sister a scathing look, "Yes."
Death sent her an appraising glance, "She seems to be holding up rather well, all things considered." It was meant to be a joke, but Dream thought the circles under her eyes were damning.
"You are typically far slower to admit you are wrong, so I ask you again, brother, what are you doing here?"
"After my meeting with the girl, I spent an entire evening working on new dreams and nightmares. It was the best work I've done in ages."
Now Death did smirk, "She inspired you then? Is she your latest muse?"
"My days of muses are behind me, sister. Aside from the fact that she is a mortal, my realm needs my full attention."
"Of course, brother."
*
That night, when Y/N fell asleep in her bed, she found herself back in the throne room. Muttering a curse under her breath, she stood, grateful that she'd slept in a pair of shorts this time.
"Approach, Y/N."
She did not obey the voice this time, stubbornly remaining in place and gazing resolutely into the dim light, which was only slightly improved from her first visit.
A moment, then two, passed before there came a sigh. "Very well." Several long strides later the King of Dreams had left his throne to stand before her. She avoided his eyes, afraid to repeat her mistakes.
"Dream King."
"Yes, I suppose I deserve that as well."
Tipping up her chin, she nodded, "You do." She seemed to catch herself, "I'm afraid I'm not sure what I did to end up back here."
"I brought you here- in both instances. You've done nothing wrong, I have realized too late."
She was stunned. She hesitantly met his gaze, relieved when her feet remained planted on the floor.
Dream held his expression steady and nodded, "I apologize for my prior behavior."
She surprised herself by tipping her head, "Thank you." She chewed her lip for a moment, "I'm sorry too. For before. I'm really not sure how I did it."
She knew she didn't have the leverage to flaunt a grudge against the Kind of Dreams. She was pleased with her own politeness, but she would not trust easily.
Dream was silent for a long pause, "What exactly did you see?"
She looked away, "Not much. A woman- a beautiful woman. The sun. And I felt-" His eyes seemed to pull her gaze back in, "I felt some of your pain, I think."
"I apologize."
Her brow furrowed, "For your suffering?"
He shook his head, "For yours, at my hands. We have much to discuss, but you will not struggle with nightmares from tonight on."
The corner of her mouth twitched upwards in a smile, "So, I can rest assured?"
Dream either didn't catch the pun or was ignoring it, nodding, "You may. Now come, have a seat." He led her back toward his throne, where a small tea table and a wooden chair sat on the dais beside his own.
She waited, watching him take his seat on the throne before she sat on the wooden chair, ruefully thinking of her own chair at home. And then it was her chair she was sitting in. No sound or movement accompanied the change, it simply was.
Dream raised an eyebrow, as if challenging the action, "Did you just alter the Dreaming?"
Face flushing with warmth, she stumbled over her words, "Not with intention."
His gaze seemed inquisitive, "Have you always manipulated the Dreaming so skillfully?"
She raised a brow, a reluctant smile forming at the corner of her mouth, "I'm not sure that was a compliment."
"Simply an observation."
"Sounds a bit sinister though, doesn't it? 'Manipulating the Dreaming.'"
"What would you call it if someone were to create their own clay sculpture on a block already used by someone else?" Dream wasn't offended by the action so much as he was curious.
"If it serves a new function, I would call it repurposing," she replied thoughtfully.
There was a long pause, "Indeed." She couldn't decipher his tone. "What if I told you that the person who made the original sculpture also created the clay? And that the only clay that would ever exist was his creations."
She sobered up a little, "I'm sorry if I've ruined your work. Once again, not my intention. I have a lot to learn about your realm."
His gaze trailed over the chair she'd conjured, noting the details. The golden colored thread in the stitching that glinted in the dim light of the throne room. The slight wear to the fabric around the arms. Dreams were often vague, even half-formed, because mortals struggled to shape the Dreaming. But Dream suspected he'd find a perfect match to this chair if he were to visit her home.
"Clay is never ruined for having been used for creation. However, some do not take kindly to their working being- repurposed. But that is what I brought you here to discuss."
She gave him a nod, "I'm listening."
His dark gaze seemed to pierce her, "You are something known as a dream weaver. Historically, dream weavers used their abilities to tether many humans to the same dream."
She blinked at him, expression blank for a long time, "I don't mean any disrespect, but could you be mistaken?"
"I could be, but my sister is almost certainly not."
"Your sister?"
"Death."
She shook her head, trying to clear the thoughts that had grown thick and slow.
"Why would you want humans to have the same dreams?"
"Back in the early days of human development, human dreams were chaotic and disorganized. Dream weavers helped drive human development by uniting many humans under the same dream."
"Dreams affect human development?"
That drew a surprising chuckle from the Dream King, "Dreams are human development. The world exists as it is because of dreams- because of the Dreaming." There was a marked note of pride in his voice at that.
"Everything?"
"Everything."
"So like, the depths of the ocean and all the scary stuff down there was all dreamed up by humans?" He nodded. "What about space- the entire greater solar system? Is any of that real?"
"Created by dreams, but very real." She took a moment to process that, stifling a sigh. "You are displeased?" Dream raised a curious brow.
"That's a very human-centric reality. I kind of liked it when we were just little specks of dust among the vastness of the uncharted cosmos."
The corner of his mouth lifted in almost a smile, "You still are. But only because humans have dreamed it so."
"How have we survived this long? It seems to me that human beings have a tendency to destroy more than we create."
"Humans can be very destructive. But they are also very clever. No other species has demomstrated such an capability to dream up solutions to its problems like humans."
"So like, climate change. The solution to all of the pollution, to the whole climate crisis, exists?"
"Not exactly. It may or may not exist now. But it could exist if enough humans were to dream of it."
She rested her head in her palm, forcing a breath; she was starting to get light headed. This was overwhelming. Her next breath did not come as easily as the first, a fact not unnoticed by the Dream King.
"Are you alright?"
"I-" she swallowed hard, trying to get past the lump in her throat, "I think I'm having a panic attack."
Dream calmly reached out and brushed his hand over her forehead, his intent to soothe her distress. Instead, a sharp spike of heat burst through his palm, quickly going icy. He heard her gasp, but couldn't tear his gaze away as the trails of ice left behind dark lines of deep purple criss-crossing over his wrist.
"What the fuck?" Her voice was barely over a whisper, the only evidence of distress the high-pitched strain that overtook her tone. Tearing his eyes from his hand, he saw the same design decorating her hand in a blue so dark it was almost black.
Her wide-eyed gaze flicked up to his, "Did you-" She left the question unfinished, not wanting to make an accusation and unsure of what to ask even if she did.
"No."
"Do you know what this is?"
"No." His voice had gone cold and hard, just like it had been their first time meeting. Her eyes flicked back to the lines marking her skin and Dream saw the panic begin to rekindle in them.
After only a split second of hesitation, he pressed his palm to her forehead again, "Sleep, now. We will speak again soon."
Her eyes grew cloudy, but she fought against his magic with surprising vigor, "No- the- n-nightmares-"
Dream's hand seemed to slide down over her cheek to cup her face of its own accord as her eyes started to glisten with fear, "You will suffer no bad dreams tonight, Dreamweaver."
And as she faded from his realm, her consciousness joining her body in sleep, Death's words about the girl's resilience to seeing inside his head echoed again. But the lines swirling over his wrist stretched from his fingertips all the way up his forearm, nearly to the elbow, demanding his attention. They were delicate, weaving together and knotting at the crossroads between, like a tangle of flower stems and intricate lace. And at the apex of it all, the palm of his hand had an empty circle at the center.
As he stared at the mark on his hand, Dream of the Endless felt something he was neither accustomed to or fond of- he felt lost.
*
"You look like a kicked puppy today, brother," Death remarked, not breaking pace on her way to the next destination. The city street seemed to blur behind her, though her pace appeared normal. Dream's long strides quickly made up the distance, though he said nothing.
Death's raised eyebrow slowly lowered as she noticed the markings on his hand. "It appears that congratulations are in order."
The frown lines on his face only seemed to grow more pronounced.
"Unless-"
"Unless." Dream was unamused.
"Unless you are not pleased to have found your soulmate."
If he were mortal, those words might have rung in his ears, the vibrations enough to make everything he'd known crumble. But they were not enough because he was not mortal and he did not have a soulmate.
"You believe such foolishness, sister?"
"You are so confident it is foolish with the evidence staring you right in the face?"
"This?" He raised his right hand, "This is not evidence. I have never encountered such delusion in any text or reading-"
"And you will not. But if you sought out the people who can remember the farthest back in human history, they would remember."
"If it is so certain, why is it not documented?" Dream sounded annoyed that it was becoming more difficult to be skeptical.
"It is. But it has been changed in writings, splintered and embellished, transformed into something not quite the same. They never quite get it right. But they dream of it. Surely you have seen that."
"I have. Yet I have never met a mortal with markings like this."
Death suppressed a chuckle at his determination to disprove her theory, "I myself have not seen a soul mate marking in a long time. But they exist. I suspected as soon as you'd told me the girl got in your head."
"I suppose that was a sign as well," he mused bitterly.
"Yes, it was. Why are you so determined not to believe, Morpheus? You aren't usually the type to ignore evidence. I thought you would be happy."
"Happy at a cruel joke? Even if I accepted this as truth, it is clearly the result of Desire's interference once again."
Death shook her head, "Soul mates go even beyond Desire."
"Then why is my soul mate a human?" he demanded. "Am I meant to destroy human-kind in my pursuit of happiness, sister?" He knew he was being unfair, demanding such answers from his sister, but he would not allow her to light the hope inside him. He would not have what he wanted, that much he knew.
"Of course you aren't. I don't have all the answers, Dream. But be patient. They will make themselves clear over time."
That was not what he wanted to hear. "Thank you, sister. I must go." And he did, leaving Death alone just as a sigh fell from her lips.
*
All day long, Y/N got remarks about the lines twisting up her wrist. After a night of blissfully peaceful sleep, she woke up feeling refreshed, taking a moment to examine the designs that had followed her from her dreams.
The lines had filled in more since while she slept. What had been dainty lines had thickened to nearly an eighth of an inch- she'd measured. What was more, the deep, rich blue that had made up the original color was deeper now, with glimmers of royal purple, black, and the occasional glint of something golden- like a raven's wings.
The lines seemed to connect at every possible juncture. The empty circle at the heart of her palm seemed like the center, although she didn't quite understand why.
There was a lot she didn't understand; why did she have a tattoo at all? It wasn't exactly normal to wake up with new ink. And based on the Dream King's reaction, it was also not normal for ancient royalty to find themselves with a flash tattoo. But she would hopefully get more answers tonight.
She was embarrassed- mortified actually, at the way she'd freaked out last night. But she had to go back. He'd called her a Dreamweaver, whatever that meant.
But when she climbed into bed that night, she tossed and turned, anxious thoughts keeping her mind active. She felt a strange sense of trepidation whenever she visited the Dreaming; she wasn't exactly in a hurry to piss off the Dream King any more than she already had at their first meeting. But more concerning than the shadow of fear was the sliver of excitement at the prospect of seeing him again.
Despite her efforts to convince herself it was the remnants of the dream, muddling her emotions, even now she could feel his pull. She could practically feel him waiting for her on the other side of her consciousness. And when she finally did drift off to sleep, she never reached a state of rest.
Instead, she found herself seated in the chair she had left behind the night before in the throne room of what she presumed was the Dream Castle. Dream was waiting for her, his throne no longer shrouded in shadow. In fact, the whole throne room was warm and well-lit, her breath catching as she gazed around at the stunning architecture.
"Did you sleep well?" Dream's voice broke her stupor, somehow managing to catch her off guard.
"What?" Her head snapped to the throne, where he was waiting.
She watched the corner of his mouth curl up in a faint smirk, "You were concerned about nightmares, if I recall."
"Oh. No- yes, I um, slept fine." She wasn't sure why she was so flustered.
Dream let out a low hum, "Excellent."
She wasn't sure what to say, especially since Dream hadn't seemed to be in the best temper when she'd been here last. She had questions, starting with what had happened to her arm and ending with what the hell it actually meant to be a Dreamweaver.
"I'm sure you have questions."
She nodded, "A couple, yes."
"I will answer to the best of my ability."
Though her gaze lingered on the marks on her arm, the words that came out were, "What do I need to know about being a Dreamweaver?"
Dream was pensive before answering, "You must remember that the Dreaming, no matter how it responds to you, is my realm. What I say goes." You had to consciously suppress the shiver that wanted to rattle you at the intense way he held your gaze while he spoke.
She nodded, "You mentioned others- who may not take kindly to my abilities."
That elicited another pause, "That question leads to many more questions. Rest assured, I will provide an overview on my siblings, but not tonight."
She bit back the torrent of follow-ups and asked instead, "Are there more like me?"
He gave his head a solemn shake, "There were a great many Dreamweavers at one point in time. But eventually they stopped emerging and died out."
"No immortality then, I take it?" She was only joking, but he shook his head seriously. She suddenly felt shy meeting his eyes, "Are you immortal?"
He cocked his head like he was determining her intentions, "Not as you might think. I am not mortal- I do not age, grow old, or die by natural causes. Though it is exceedingly difficult, I can be killed."
The silence seemed to stretch as she processed what she had just learned. Everything should have seemed overwhelming- she shouldn't believe it. But she could feel the truth of it.
Finally, she held up a clenched fist, her eyes on the dark lines glistening in the light, "What is this?"
Dream was silent for so long that she almost asked again, but he finally said softly, "It is a soul bond."
Her gaze flicked to his eyes; the dancing lights there seemed to be waiting for her reaction. Then it fell to his own left hand, where the matching lines seemed so much more elegant on his pale skin.
"What does that mean?" She asked even though she already suspected.
"I do not know." That caught her off guard; she expected him to know everything. He certainly seemed to know more than she did.
She surprised him by asking, "Is there anything you want to ask me?"
He'd expected her to push for more information. "Have you always had these abilities?"
She offered a chagrined smile, "I didn't even know I had abilities, to be honest."
"You are quite skilled."
He made a vague hand gesture and she wasn't sure what he'd done. Then she caught a glimpse of light above her head, her mouth falling open at the intricate web of silvery white that seemed to hover over her head. She didn't quite understand how she had created this masterpiece of dreams, but she believed him.
It took her a moment to realize that he had paid her a compliment, "Oh- thank you." Her face felt a bit hot. "I have another question." At his nod, she continued, "Will I see you again?"
She couldn't explain it, since his eyes were so difficult to read, but he seemed pleased as he mulled that over, "You are not bound to me; you are free to go back to your life. But should you have need of the Dreaming, it is always here. I trust you can make your way back."
She couldn't place why she felt as though he were flirting with her; he clearly avoided expressing any kind of desire to see her again of his own volition.
She felt the urge to admit she wanted to see him again, grateful to her own good sense for stopping her before the words formed. Dream hadn't spelled out what kind of being he was to her, but she knew he was likely high above whatever a 'soul bond' meant. He was the definition of being out of someone's league.
So she nodded her head, "Thank you, Dream King."
A beat of silence. "Morpheus. You may call me Morpheus."
Her lips curled into a half-smile, "Thank you, Morpheus."
He wasn't prepared for how his name sounded when spoken from her lips. She wasn't prepared for the soft smile that graced his handsome face. Even solemn, he was beautiful. But a smile, faced directly at her- because of her- it was like knowing the sun was shining because of her.
She was so unprepared that she blinked, waking up in her own bed, her heart beating rapidly in her chest. A wave of emotions washed over her; loss, frustration, hope, longing. She felt desperate to fall back asleep, to see that smile grace Morpheus' face again. But if that was going to happen, she would have to go to him.
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thepaintedlady00 · 1 year
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Hi! can you write a Morpheus x reader where the reader is a primordial being of love and is older than the endless and was present during the birth of the universe and they have like a hades and Persephone relationship combined with with a zebalba (I’m so sorry if I’m spelling that wrong) and la muerte relationship from the book of life. Maybe? With the dialogue “not today my love” from the same movie
Yes! This is such a cute concept! 😍😍😍 I'm excited for this one! Thank you for the request and I hope you enjoy it! 🥰
You were a being of love and life, one of the oldest beings in the universe. You had been there at the start of it, had watched the vast darkness fill with light and swirl and explode and rage together until it created the universe you now knew. The Endless came quickly after, Destiny then Death and then Dream and the rest. Death was your friend, though your roles were quite literally opposites she was loving and warm and everything you were drawn to. Her younger brother Dream, however, was cold and distant.
The first time you'd met had been in the dreams of a mortal. He dreamt of love and thus drew you to him, you were however surprised to find the King of Dreams there, watching the mans unconscious fantasies from afar. He even had the gall to question why you interrupted his work, to which you gave him a firm reply. "He has called asking for my blessing, Dream Lord. It is you that is an unwelcome guest here."
"I am the ruler of dreams, I cannot be unwelcome in my own domain."
"This is his domain as far as I'm concerned." You said placing a glowing hand on the mans unconscious form.
The dream around you both faded and you stood in front of the gates of The Dreaming, of the broody Endless' domain. "All dreams are my domain, goddess. You'd do well to remember that."
"And you would do well to remember your purpose, sweet Dream." You met his gaze unflinchingly, something that made him fall for you. "Humanity does not exist to serve your function."
Then you were gone, back to your own domain of dawn and flowers and quiet whispers of love and life. That had been centuries ago. The second time you met was when Death had invited you to meet her for a quick catch up while there was a lull in her ever present work. You'd agreed quickly, excited to see your friend once again after so long, but the mood soured quickly when Dream appeared beside her, shoulder length hair and an ever present scowl.
Not even the stars in his eyes glowed as he looked up at the old building. Death greeted you with a bright smile and a warm kiss to the cheek. "Try to play nice."
"Tell that to him," you mutter as Dream moved into place beside his sister.
He bowed his head only slightly. "My sister did not mention that you would be here, goddess."
You ignored the way his voice made you tingle. "She failed to tell me as well, Dream Lord."
He whined as the three of you entered the tavern, smoke and livestock and the smell of something slightly off swirled around you, your body humming with the sensations of humanity. Death took one drink of the ale handed to her and grimaced. "Ugh. This is terrible."
Your lively spirits were dampened by the dark cloud that was the Dream Lord. He moved through the building with nothing but cold eyes and annoyance clear on his face. You found it odd. Dreams were supposed to be lovely and beautiful, though you did suppose he was quite beautiful in this form he'd chosen. He stood beside you and his sister and nearly groaned. "They are such crude beings."
"Crude can be beautiful to the right eyes," you reminded, focusing on the pair of lovers sitting side by side in the back, talking softly of their coming marriage.
"Look, I've seen Death," another voice said from the center of the room. "I lost half my village to the Black Death. I fought under Buckingham in Burgundy. It's not like I don't know what death is. Death is..." All of you looked at the man. "Stupid."
"You're a fool, Hob."
The men at his table laughed, but a flash of pain crossed over your friends face as she quickly erased it to look up at an angry Dream with a soft smile. The man, this Hob, continued. "Nobody has to die. The only reason people die is... is cause everyone does it. You all just go along with it. But not me. I've made up my mind. I'm not going to die."
The siblings held one another's gaze. "Hobs, death comes for every man."
"You don't know that. I might get lucky. There's always a first time. There's so much to do, so many things to see. Women to swive. Ale to drink. People to drink with." They clinked their large cups with laughs.
"Why would any sensible creature crave an eternity of this?" Dream asked quietly.
You rolled your eyes. "Life is full of many beautiful and wonderous things Dream Lord, if you ever cared to look out the window of that posh tower of yours."
Death smiled. "You could both find your answers."
"How?" Dream asked, a slight mischievous upturn of his lips.
"I could grant him his wish."
"Do that and he will be begging for death within a century, I assure you."
You watched this man, the one who wished to live forever, and shook your head. "No, I think this ones different."
Dream followed your eyes and scoffed. "Humans are all the same, goddess."
"This will prove very interesting," Death said before you could rebuttal her brothers statement. "Are you going to tell him or should I?"
"I shall."
"Very well, little brother. Very well." You watched Death for a moment, trying to decipher her intentions while Dream informed the man of his newly granted wish.
It was outside the tavern after Death had departed that you and the Dream Lord made your first bet. He would meet with this human every hundred years. Each time he chose to live you would be granted unrestricted access to the dreams of mortals wishing for love, but if he chose to accept death Dream would get to claim whatever prize he saw fit. And so began the years of you and the Dream Lord.
It had started out with you turning up in his realm, doing your duties and then leaving. That lasted only a mere eighty years, and then the allures of his well crafted realm began to cause you to pause. You met Cain and Abel and Gregory, adored each of them with all you were. You spent much time with Lucienne in her endless library with tales of love and life and books of every living being in the universe at your fingertips. Jessamy, when not glued to Dreams side, was full of tales and jokes that you simply loved to listen to while you walked.
Dream had come to the library one night in search of a book, only to find you reading on the floor. You read a book of love, a thing he thought was cliché but did not say it. You helped him find his book, your fingers brushing as you handed it to him and from that night forward you spent much of your extra time in his realm with him beside you. The two of you disagreed on nearly everything, and you felt a harsh resentment from him, especially as the years passed.
Eventually, you demanded to know, "Why do you detest me so Dream Lord?"
"Because love has only ever brought me distractions and misery."
You sighed, the realization of his coldness finally becoming obvious. "Not even I can change ancient laws or rewrite what has already been written."
"No," he said. "You cannot. But you could have at least blessed the matches I found."
"I did," you admitted gently.
Dreams face shifted, no longer tense and angry but now shocked. "When? Why?"
"I blessed them from the start, Dream. As for why... I wanted you to be happy."
For a moment you thought he wouldn't reply to you, but when he did it hadn't been at all what you expected. "I am happy when I am with you."
"What?"
"You make me happy, goddess," he said again, plainly. "Though you infuriate me to no end and insist upon arguing at every turn."
"You make me happy as well, Dream Lord."
"Was that agreeance?" He teased, a rare smile gracing his lips. "Here I thought you'd wish to argue more."
You smoothed a hand down his chest as you slid past him, "Not tonight, my love."
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"Lay your head on me" - Morpheus x Reader & The Corinthian x Reader
A/N: Based on Crush's Lay Your Head on Me. Couldn't decide for which one of our fav weirdos to write this so here's both. It's just some tiny comfort fics knock yourselves out lovelies
The Corinthian's ver.
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Sometimes he would rile you up just for the sake of it. "You're cute when you're angry," he'd argue. But that night you appeared far more than just annoyed or irritated - you were done. As far as he knew, it wasn't him that put you in such a mood which only worked as a fatal omen for whatever upset you so much. Before he sees to that, however, Corinthian was set on tending to you first:
"I just... I want to give up already," you admitted quietly. "Just screw everything, I don't care anymore."
"Well, now, that's unlike you."
"I'm tired of trying and things always going to shit no matter how much effort I put in. There's hope, there's being stupid and then there's me waltzing between those."
"Lay your head on me," he instructed you and although it was framed as though the decision was up to you, his hand gently guided your head to his shoulder. Too tired and upset with the state of your life, you let him. With the strong grip he had around your shoulders, you weren't going anywhere until he decided you could. "The more you love, the more you lose," he summarized your tears. When he put it in such a literal, simple phrase, it was an even more devastating discovery but he wasn't one to leave a wound to fester - at least not when you were involved: "The more I'm there for you."
Morpheus's ver. ⬇️
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"Sometimes I feel like I can no longer tell who cares and who doesn't. I know people don't explicitly hate me but they don't necessarily want me around either. It's this bland ambivalence of being no one... Just one time, I wish someone went out of their way to specifically spend time with me."
Morpheus could be doing about a thousand different things - half of those he's going to have to do anyway because of his royal title. Nonetheless, he was here, right next to you. He was entitled to shove this sacrifice in your face, accuse you of being ungrateful but he remained quiet for now.
Unconsciously, his body went slightly stiff as you laid your head on his shoulder. Your hands wrapped around his arms tightly as though the moment you let go he was, as befits a dream, going to dissolve, disappear without a trace like he never once belonged to this world. But your strong grip could not fool him - he knew perfectly well it was an expression of momentary weakness. Not something one should be ashamed of, mind you. A small sigh escaped your lips and it was perhaps that little sound of relief that allowed his muscles to relax once more.
Hesitantly, his lips brushed against the top of your head. "You're not alone, in case you're wondering. I'm thinking about you always," he whispered.
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lemoneyshipz · 7 months
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Cuddles🥰
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hunny-beann · 4 months
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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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jceekay · 2 months
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original from @messmonte
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hardly-an-escape · 1 year
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just thinking about Hob and Dream and acts of service as a love language and how Hob would react as Dream gradually reveals more details about just how horrifying his imprisonment was…
Hob realizing exactly how long it’s been since Dream was touched by another person and deliberately seeking out opportunities to touch him in casual and gentle (and plausibly deniable) ways. passing him a mug of tea and just briefly cupping the back of his wrist. a gentle hand on his shoulder as he points at something. Hob’s knee against Dream’s under the table or his toes tucked under Dream’s leg on the couch. after a while he starts hugging Dream hello and goodbye and each hug lasts a fraction of a second longer than the last.
Hob makes a random comment about breathing and Dream mentions that the glass sphere was basically airtight - mentions it in an offhand, ‘it didn’t really matter because I don’t technically need to breathe anyway’ kind of way - but it matters to Hob. so wherever they are he starts making sure there’s a window cracked or a door propped open so Dream can feel fresh air.
Hob, thinking about how cold and hard glass is, starts offering Dream his coziest sweaters and softest, most worn-in t shirts and pajama pants. fleece blankets and fluffy pillows multiply in his flat like there’s an infestation. he considers buying a four poster bed with curtains, like in the olden days, in case Dream ever wants to sleep with him take a nap.
Hob just doing everything he can to fill Dream’s time in the waking world with pleasant sensations. beeswax candles and delicious cooking smells. there’s always music playing on his stereo when Dream is over. fresh colorful flowers on the coffee table every week (sometimes he makes Dream come along to the farmers market and pick them out).
and Dream knows what he’s doing, of course, because subtlety is not Hob Gadling’s middle name, and at first it almost offends him, and then it amuses him, and finally it unlocks something inside him - because he comes to understand that Hob is not trying to fix him; he’s trying to fill in the holes that Burgess drilled in him with something new, something warm and kind.
and one fall afternoon they’re coming back from the farmers market with flowers and this spicy chili oil Hob has been wanting to try, and it’s raining so they’re crowded under one umbrella and Hob’s shoulder is pressed warm against Dream’s, and Hob is extolling the virtues of a hot bath on a chilly day. and they come inside and shed their wet jackets (because it was a rather small umbrella) and Hob immediately gets a fluffy towel to wrap around Dream’s shoulders.
and Dream just can’t help it anymore, he’s in this space that has been filled with soft, warm things for him and he’s looking into Hob’s soft, warm eyes which are brimming with love for him and he leans in and kisses him. and Hob’s mouth is as soft and warm as his eyes. and the last vestige of that cold glass sphere that was lodged under Dream’s ribs cracks and dissolves under the warmth of Hob’s care.
and it turns out Hob didn’t need to get a four poster bed after all because his bog standard ikea one serves its purpose just fine.
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Hello, can I request a dream x reader where reader is his girlfriend and she gets pregnant and how they would both deal with that situation. Maybe a scene with there daughter years later
Aisle 43
Pettiness knows no bounds, especially when you're one of the Endless. This means that if a toddler is what's standing in Dream's way, then it's still very much fair game.
Dream of the Endless x Reader | 800+ | cw: fem!reader, pregnant!reader, vague themes of pregnancy/motherhood, jealousy, super-megapetty!Dream of the Endless, Matthew the 'I'm just happy to be here' Raven, fluff, typos, etc.
A/N: hi my love... i may have totally forgotten I had this in my drafts asfhasfha;sfhasfh sorreh. I JUST DID A DRABBLE BECAUSE MY BRAIN IS MELTING CURRENTLY. I HOPE YOU LIKE IT <3
Tagging: @pinksirensong @aralezinspace @sloanexx @deniixlovezelda @shadow-pancake9
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I hum as I make my way out of the soup aisle. The little girl that's been following me around the supermarket tugs at my hand repeatedly. I look down at her and she immediately points, "cereal?"
I turn to the pink cereal box she wanted and flatten my lips into a smile, "sorry, kiddo, you're gonna have to-"
"Why are you with a child?"
Both said child and I look up and see a darkly dressed man in the middle of two shelves with brightly colored items. The girl that barely reached my hips looks up at the dark silhouette then grabs my hand. She mumbles, "nightmare."
Said nightmare raises a brow. It was almost as if a dark haze began to form around him. A raven swoops down and lands on his shoulder.
In stark juxtaposition, Matthew the raven chirpily greets me and adds, "mind getting me some cornflakes?"
I push my cart forward, drawing near both them, and the item. I grab the cornflakes and go to the side of the sullen looking being. I tilt my head, "Dream?"
Dream, who has not torn his gaze away from the child, finally spares me a glance. I free my hand of the cornflakes, dropping into my cart, and use it to cup his cheek. His expression softens.
My other hand, still being tugged by the baby girl, is now tucked behind me. She peeps cautiously from my shoulder.
"I'm going grocery shopping with my coworker."
"Your coworker is a child?" Dream says with a hurt expression.
I make a face but sigh. Suddenly, the dull pain on my back is blatant. I rub my round belly that was the cause of it, "yeah. Beatrice is a prodigy. She does our work better than anyone in the department."
Dream frowns and deflates even more.
I raise my brows.
Matthew croaks as he cocks his head. He whispers, "he's been upset that you haven't been sleeping properly."
"You've not been in my realm for ages," Dream knits his brows tightly, "yet here you are with a child that is not even your own."
When Dream comes close to touch me, Beatrice whimpers and pulls me back. She panics, "nightmare! Nightmare!"
The strength of the child is not enough to make me fall back, but it is enough to make me lose my balance. I feel myself slowly lose my footing. Dream grabs me before anything happens though.
The glare that he throws at Beatrice makes her instantly clamor.
If her wailing wasn't enough to make me panic, then it was when she ran away. I turn to run after her, but Dream grabs my arm before I can get anywhere.
"Let me go!" I snap.
"But-"
"I can't lose my coworkers kid!"
"Don't worry!" Matthew takes off, "I'll keep an eye on her."
I watch as Matthew soars above the aisles and then look back down to glare at Dream. I pull my arm out of his grip, "you terrified a four year old."
Dream glares back, "she was stealing you away."
I am flabbergasted. "You literally put a baby inside me!" I motion to my baby bump and give an exasperated look, "yet you're intimidated by a 40 pound little girl- who, by the way, barely even makes up a fraction of how old you are."
He does not argue with this. He has no argument with it. Instead, he mumbles, "you dreamed of her when you napped."
I roll my eyes, "and how many times have I dreamed of you, my lord?"
He turns away, eyes landing on my belly. He pouts and stares a moment before he rubs it, "I do not enjoy when I must share your dreams with others."
The idea is equal parts exhausting, irrational, and somehow darling.
"What if I dream about our baby?" I raise a brow.
He lifts his eyes. He looks like he actually was mentally debating in that split second it took for him to reply. Dream speaks, "I would be willing to share with the blood of my blood."
I scoff and roll my eyes yet again.
He kisses my temple. A part of my hard expression chips away. I offer him an exasperated look.
Dream makes a face, "was I too much?"
I nod.
"I've got good news and bad news," Matthew calls as he swoops down, "good news, Beatrice found her mom and stopped crying!"
I release a sigh of relief.
"Bad news, she may be traumatized for life, because when a man wearing a black trench coat passed by, she started breaking down all over again."
My relief evaporates and I shoot a hard glare at Dream before pushing him out of the way. I drag my cart along with me as I walk off to look for them.
Matthew perches on the edge of the cart, "oooh, mind if we get some sunflower seeds too?"
"Not at all, my love."
Dream grumbles upon hearing this and watches as we take a turn on the candy aisle.
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writethrough · 11 months
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feel free to imagine a sexy interpretation. Also, I'm going to add a loss of virginity here just for fun. In this scenario, Dream is finally willing to admit to himself that he loves the reader, but he's still not willing to confess (and he's also still a possessive/obsessive jerk), so instead he chases after the woman's dreams, especially until even your wet dreams. And 2 possible catalysts here, either Dream sees that the reader is dreaming about having sex with someone else and becomes insanely jealous or he sees someone flirting with the reader in the waking world and becomes insanely jealous XD. This is so Dream, like a king, he feels entitled to the reader and his time, and while he's trying to work up the courage to confess, he makes sure the reader can't hook up with anyone else.
I Am Yours, But Are You Mine
(Morpheus x Female Reader)
Warnings: Minor language, suggestive situations, kinda possessive Morpheus
Word Count: 1651
A/N: Oh my goodness, thank you so much for being so patient! Unfortunately, Morpheus has been one of those characters that I haven't been as motivated to write. And I hate forcing myself to write when I'm uninspired. Thankfully, I found sparks of it here and there.
I tried to follow your request as truly as I could (the lost of virginity didn't quite make it), but I ran with your possible catalyst options! I do think I need to work on my jealous/entitled Morpheus, though. I think he could've turned out better.
Nonetheless, I hope you enjoy it! And thank you for requesting it!
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Images of you and that human haunted him. It was all he could think about as he sat on the staircase to his throne. How that man approached you. How he smiled, and you returned it. How he made you laugh, soft and delicate.
Morpheus’ jaw tightened, and he snapped his book shut.
Was it too late?
Had he lost you before he could have you?
He closed his eyes, trying to fight those thoughts with the ones of you and him.
How, when Morpheus appeared, you greeted him with warmth and tenderness. How you touched his arm in reassurance or when you were startled. You knew he would protect you. It was instinctual how you moved closer and tucked yourself behind him.
He had never felt more vital.
And yet, earlier, you had that same kindness for that man.
How long had you known him? When did you meet him? What was he to you?
You would have told Morpheus about any romantic partners.
His fist clenched as his arm hung off his knee.
To think, mere days ago, he had realized that he loved you. He would have been content to dedicate himself to you silently. An ever-present confidant for his heart’s deepest desire. How quickly things could change.
He had to do something.
Morpheus had grown more agitated throughout the day. The more he thought about you and that man, the darker his mind became. 
He had finished crafting new nightmares when he sensed you had entered the Dreaming.
He had to go to you. He needed to know what that man wanted from you—and if you wanted anything from him.
You didn’t need anything from that human.
He was quick to find you within your dream.
A replica of your home, which he found strange. Rarely did your dreams play out here. You were usually conscious within the Dreaming. And his heart went out to you, knowing your day must have been stressful.
He peered into your room and nearly unleashed every nightmare in his realm.
You were laid bare with that man hovering over you.
Morpheus’ knuckles whitened. And before he could think better—before he could calm himself. He swiped the dream away and sent you into the Waking World.
You woke with a frustrated groan.
Of course. Of course, you had to wake up when things were getting good.
You scrunched your nose when you recalled who had been in your dream.
You sighed. At least your subconscious knew not to dream about Morpheus in his kingdom. You might actually die if that happened.
Though, the replacement for him wasn’t all bad. You had noticed the similarities when you met him right away. Tall, black hair, lithe, but his eyes were brown and not the blue you had come to love. And where Morpheus’ presence held authority and power, the stranger’s had a shyness, a quiet confidence that you may have been attracted to in a different time. However, you only wanted one being.
You stretched before climbing out of bed.
You weren’t sure when you realized you loved Morpheus, but after you internalized it, you promised to never act on it.
There had to be hundreds, if not thousands, of creatures who had fallen for the Dream King. And yet, you had only heard of two that captured his attention. Who were you to think you stood a chance of being his? He was one of the most important beings in existence. You were a measly human—here and gone before he could blink.
You shook your head.
You were grateful for Morpheus’ friendship. He listened and held an interest in you that you couldn’t understand. You would gladly take whatever relationship you could have with him. 
You slowly got ready for your day. You had more time with your early waking and decided to do more with your makeup. It had been years since you applied makeup for someone else’s benefit. But you wondered if Morpheus would notice anything different.
Scrunching your nose again, you rid that thought from your mind. Morpheus didn’t care about how you looked. He’d told you appearances meant little to him, that it was dreaming that held someone’s true soul.
You wished you could know his.
Morpheus would’ve broken his teeth if he were human—and perhaps his wrist, too, if he squeezed any tighter.
He stood with his hands behind his back, staring out the stained glass windows in his throne room.
He had stopped your dream from continuing, but the reality was different.
His entire arsenal of power was at his disposal. Morpheus could do whatever he wished to that human, but that would only end in you being upset with him—or furious if extreme enough.
No, Morpheus had to prove himself. He had to make you see that he was the only one for you—that only he could provide for and protect you—stand by you in the way you deserved.
And he’d do so tonight.
Morpheus appeared in your kitchen doorway, mind racing. Anger and fear and uncertainty beneath a stony exterior.
And then he saw you. As stunning as ever.
And it all vanished.
All except his desire to tell you.
Your kindness and strength had lured him to you the moment you met. He’d come to know how closely you held those you cared about, and somehow, he was one of them.
And the thought of letting you go, of you choosing someone else…he couldn’t fathom that.
You brought him so much peace.
You spun from your refrigerator to your island, produce in hand, and finally saw him.
“Shit, Morpheus!” You held a hand to your heart. “Give me a warning next time.”
His face remained as still as ever, but you swore you saw a passing gleam in his eyes.
“My sincerest apologies,” he said, stepping toward you.
You waved it away, half believing him.
“Want anything to drink?” you asked, chopping the first ingredient.
He scanned the food, but you weren’t entirely sure he was seeing it.
“I must ask something of you,” he said.
“Okay.” You placed the knife down. “What is it?”
“Have you found someone?”
You tilted your head, brow pinched. “Found someone?”
Morpheus never hesitated when speaking—and you weren’t sure that was the word for it now—but something made him consider his next question carefully.
“Are you spoken for?”
You opened your mouth, then closed it, slowly connecting the dots.
“Are you asking if I’m dating anyone?” Your heart picked up. He had never asked something so intimate before.
“Yes.”
“No.” You licked your lips. “No. What brought this on?”
The faintest pink graced his cheeks. His eyes shifted to the side, then back.
“...You dreamt of him.” He breathed like something terrible would happen if he spoke louder.
Your heart clenched at his look of betrayal, trying to recall what he meant. Then, your eyes widened. He must have seen what happened at the coffee shop.
“Are you talking about that guy who came up to me?” you asked.
Morpheus shifted his chin downward, the most movement he used for a nod, and didn’t break eye contact.
“Morpheus…I don’t even remember his name,” you said, being as gentle with him as possible.
The space between his brows twitched. “You dreamt of him.”
Your head dropped in embarrassment.
You shrugged. “It’s been a while.”
It wasn’t much of an explanation. Although the guy had been attractive, you weren’t interested in him when he spoke—something unnecessary in dreams. All he had to do was get the job done, but with Morpheus' attitude, you could guess why that dream ended before anything could happen.
“Are you…jealous?” you asked.
“I am a king. I do not experience jealousy.” His head lifted ever so slightly.
“Historically, you do,” you said pointedly, trying to hide your smirk.
He hummed as if annoyed, but you knew better. You had stumped him.
“You are fortunate I hold you dear,” he said. “Not many can speak to me as such.”
You laughed breathily and stepped forward, grateful your answer pacified him.
You regarded him carefully. The smooth plains of his face, the sharp lines of his jaw and nose, his blue eyes. His lips. Your feelings for Morpheus were bubbling to the surface in a way you couldn’t ignore, and to think he possibly returned them? It nearly sent your head spinning.
“You know…I wouldn’t mind if you were a little jealous,” you said.
“And why is that?” He arched a brow, trying to remain composed.
“Because then it would mean you share my feelings,” you whispered. “It would mean I could kiss y—”
Lips were on yours—warm and powerful, a surge of pent-up passion. He’d waited far too long to taste you, to know the curves of your hips and the dip in your spine.
Your body melded into his as if he was the lock and you were the key. You opened him up to things he never thought he’d want to experience again. And you kept his secrets. You protected him. Made him feel safe. He was desperate to do the same for you.
You pulled away, but Morpheus followed, giving you quick kisses until you put a hand on his chest, laughing.
“Just…give me a second.” You inhaled. “One of us needs to breathe.”
The faintest pink graced his cheeks, and you grinned.
“I apologize. It slipped my mind,” Morpheus said.
You shook your head. “Don’t. Never apologize for doing that.”
You pecked his cheek, then the corner of his mouth, and lingered just beyond his lips.
“Guess I have someone else to dream about,” you whispered, each word brushing your lips against his.
He let out a low rumble. “There is no need to dream.”
His hands grasped the back of your neck and pulled you into him. You moaned when his sand whirled around you, knowing exactly where you were headed.
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Taglist: @sayumiht, @hatterripper31, @snowsatsu, @1950schick, @navs-bhat, @bookshelf-dust, @sapphireonline
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morpheusbaby3 · 6 months
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me trying to get into heaven:
god:
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withoutyouimsaskia · 6 months
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The Sandman Works Masterlist
Hello there! I figured it was about time that I made a comprehensive list of all my fics set in the world of The Sandman so here it goes ❤️
Remember Me, Special Dreams
Table of Contents and Playlist - Self-insert. You're having trouble with recurring night terrors and Morpheus pays you a visit. (Warnings: language, angst, mentions of graphic night terrors. Smut in later chapters.)
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Sometimes It's Fated
Part 1 | Part 2 | Part 3 | Part 4 | Part 5 Coming Soon
Self-insert. AFAB reader. Dark Morpheus. After restoring the Dreaming and locating the missing dreams and nightmares, Morpheus turns his attention to finding you, the human he believes fate has chosen for him. (Warnings: Minors DNI. Dark Morpheus, smut, possessive behaviour, voyeurism, dub con/non con.)
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One Shots
Healed - Fluff. Gender neutral reader. You hurt yourself at home and Morpheus tends to you. (Warnings: injury, blood.)
Fever Dream - Fluff. Gender neutral reader. You develop a flu-like illness resulting in fever dreams. Morpheus helps you with the nightmares and cares for you. (Warnings: sickness, nightmares, physical intimacy.)
Decisions - Fluff. Gender neutral reader. You and Morpheus are due to attend an Endless family gathering and you ask Morpheus for points on what to wear. (Warnings: physical intimacy, suggestive themes.)
Low - Angst/comfort. Gender neutral reader. Morpheus attempts to bring comfort to a dreamer who is managing depression, while in his cat form. (Warnings: angst, talk of depression.)
Autumn - Fluff. Gender neutral reader. Morpheus has made you a dream based on one of your favourite things and you explore it together. (Warnings: physical intimacy.)
Don't Stop - Smut. You and Morpheus are in the exploratory stages of your relationship. Morpheus asks to worship you, and all is going well. At least, that is, until you start to wake up... (Warnings: Minors DNI. Smut.)
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landwriter · 11 months
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Picnic | Dream/Hob | 1.7K | G light and happy fluff, Hob loves springtime, Matthew hates giving dating advice, and the only pining is Dream pining for an A+ in dating, a thing that is both normal to want and possible to achieve
for Domaystic Drabbles, Day 4: Packed Lunch ty to @softest-punk for twigging me to the sweet @domaystic prompts. It got a little out of hand!
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Hob had seen several thousand fine spring days. He’d seen keen snowdrops surfacing in February, a hundred congregations of crocuses bursting forth to greet the turning of the seasons, and entire delegations of wild daffodils lancing through leaf-fall and trumpeting their blossoms with an attitude that suggested they knew themselves to be the first and only creatures to master the colour yellow. He’d watched six centuries of human habitation dusted with the same fine pollen as alder and birch unfurled their catkins like festival garlands, and he’d— he’d gotten distracted again.
He blinked at the paper in front of him. He’d forgotten it was there. Or that he was meant to be grading it.
That, too: six centuries of the wild joy of spring distracting him from whatever passed for worthy toil at the time. Six centuries of the whiff of warm breeze setting off some yet-unexplained chemical reaction in his brain that made him want to dash outside and not come back in for weeks. Six centuries of him becoming temporarily mad and cheerfully insufferable to all those around him with the joy of it. He’d never get used to it, and Christ help him if he let anyone around him get used to it either.
“What a gorgeous day,” he remarked, to the untouched stack of student work.
It said nothing back, but he beamed down at it anyway, and then, sighing in the manner of a man happy to be defeated, turned his office chair to face the cracked-open window and watch the house martins build their newest nest.
---
“Matthew.”
“Yeah, boss?”
“I require your counsel. For a human matter.” Dream’s brow was furrowed, his manner grave. Hob, then.
Matthew inclined his head and hopped sideways in what he’d decided was the corvid equivalent of girding his loins.
“Hob keeps commenting on the weather on our outings.” He sounded anguished.
“The weather?” he repeated dumbly. Thank fuck. Two days ago it had been the number of orgasms human males required. Daily. Which, good for the two of them, but c’mon. Matthew had really not needed that knowledge about the kind of refractory period and appetite you acquire after half a millenia of boning. Hob, unfortunately, was Dream’s first human boyfriend, and the boss was setting about his new function with all the usual terrifying intensity and insane demands of perfection. In service of this, Matthew (unilaterally and undemocratically, he might add) had been named Arbiter Of All Things Men, which seemed kind of like a reach considering he was a bird, and one who’d been only, like, a little bisexual in his human life. The Corinthian was always skulking around. He wasn’t human either, but at least he’d fucked dudes. He’d have tips. Or Loosh! Loosh knew everything. She could give Dream books and send him off. Instead of Matthew trying to remember how the fuck dating worked.
“-time we’ve met this week.”
“Right,” said Matthew vaguely.
“What does he mean by it? He knows I cannot change the weather in the Waking. He asks nothing of me, and yet it is incessant.”
“Complaining about it, huh? Humans love to complain, boss.”
“No,” said Dream, looking wretched. “Worse. Earnest, ceaseless praise.”
“Oh. Sure. Of course.” What?
Dream was pacing the throne room like he was auditioning for community theater. “At the National Gallery, he daydreamed of the city park outside while feigning to contemplate a Pesellino. I took him to a production of Macbeth at the Globe, and afterwards, he said that even after centuries, it was never less than marvelous to watch. He was referring to the swifts feeding above us in the third act. Naturally.”
Matthew made a sympathetic noise. If he didn’t know when to keep his mouth - er, beak - shut, he’d say that Dream sounded like an insecure lover. Jealous, as best he could tell, of the change of seasons for stealing away some of Hob’s uncannily boundless affections.
“Well?” Dream stared at him in askance.
“Uh.” He floundered. Spring shit, spring shit. “You could take him on a picnic.” Yeah. Chicks loved picnics.
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Dream had appeared in his office with a wicker basket that looked stolen from a Beatrix Potter story. A delicate gingham square peeked from the lid. It looked big enough to set up a naughty rabbit for life. He set it on Hob’s desk and then primly folded his hands behind his back.
“Hullo, you.” Hob stood and kissed him on the cheek. “What’s the occasion?” He suspected that there was none. Dream had been taking dating him very seriously. It was delightful.
“Matthew has suggested you require a picnic,” said Dream. Except he said it the way someone else might say The doctor has suggested it’s terminal.
Dream had been taking dating him very seriously. It was also, sometimes, awful.
“Oh, darling. That’s so sweet. But I don’t require anything special, you know. Just you, when you’ve got time to drop in. We could do something else.”
“We shall not. I have packed us lunch.”
“Alright, you stubborn creature. Maybe I do require a picnic.” He offered his arm to Dream. “Come on, I know a place.”
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Lunch was too piddling a word for the spread Dream had packed. Lunch was a crust of bread and ale, or pottage. Lunch was a Sainsbury’s Egg & Cress Sandwich wolfed down with the last of the morning’s flask of Yorkshire Tea. This was a feast. A temple offering. For Hob. His chest twinged a little with affection. God, he was in love.
“This pleases you,” said Dream, who was looking unfairly elegant for someone sat on a gingham blanket with a bit of clotted cream on the side of his mouth.
Hob kissed it away. “Oh, yes.”
“More than our other...dates.”
“Oh,” said Hob, who was sometimes slow on the uptake, but after several centuries, didn’t miss much at all. “I’ve loved all of them. But this-” he gestured sweepingly around at Primrose Hill, the green ash shading them, the pleasant urban pastoral of joggers and families and dogs and other love-struck couples, all breathing in the same warm afternoon air, “-is exactly where I want to be, today. Outside, among all the life. In the thick of spring. It’s perfect.”
Dream followed Hob’s gaze, and studied the tableau. “There is nothing exceptional about this weather or setting.” He sounded as nonplussed as creature with nearly infinite age and knowledge could sound.
Hob laced his fingers through Dream’s, and tried to see what he saw. No great stories, really. Pedestrian daydreams of food and sun and sex, probably, of pay raises and summer vacations to Mallorca and Ibiza. Humanity being predictable, and life doing the same thing it did every year, to Dream’s uncountable thousands.
“No, I suppose not, but that’s why I love it, too. It’s familiar. Constant. Centuries, and it catches me out each time. It’s always arrived, no matter how bad things were for me. Always been there to celebrate with me when they’re wonderful. Like now.”
Dream looked sidelong at Hob. “Like now,” he echoed. Unsure, and stubbornly unwilling to make a question of it. The ache in Hob’s chest redoubled itself.
“Like now,” he promised. “It reminds me of you, too, you know. We always met in June, Dream. In 1789, watching the first trees budding nearly drove me mad with anticipation. Ninety-nine years and nine months. And you were always heralded by the same signs.” He traced circles on Dream’s pale palm, imagining it sun-kissed. “In 1989, when spring turned all the way into summer and you were still gone, I think my heart broke a little. I’d hoped, until then. That you were just late. With the swifts,” he said, quiet.
“Hob.” Dream had moved across the picnic blanket in his preternaturally fast way, and was now more or less in his lap, gripping Hob’s shoulders.
“Sorry,” he said, grimacing. “I’m being horrifically soppy. Must’ve been the scones. It’s alright. You’re here now. All that matters.”
“Robert Gadling,” said Dream. Hob blinked at that. He’d only ever gotten the full name treatment when Dream was still his Stranger, and only then when he’d disappointed him. “If you dare apologize for such a fine expression of your sentiment, I will be wroth with you.”
“Sorry,” he said again, smiling this time.
“I am honoured you associate me with the season you most adore. I would have it that you never pass another Spring waiting for me. If you wished such a thing.”
It sounded a little like a marriage proposal, which was something his heart really could not cope with the full size of at the minute. Not with so much love already around. Not if Dream didn’t intend to say it like that. He went for levity instead.
“Even though it’s driven me to distraction every time you’ve taken me out this week? Even if all I want to do for weeks is lie around outdoors and hold hands?”
Nearby, a baby started wailing. Dream, to his credit, didn’t even glance away. “Yes,” he said, perfectly solemn, perfectly certain. “Even then.”
“Well, that’s alright then,” said Hob, fighting an urge to start crying a little as well. “I would, as a matter of fact. Wish such a thing.”
They looked at each other, besotted, while the wailing continued.
“Only,” murmured Dream, “must it be in Anthropocene?”
“What?”
“Lie down, lover.” Hob did, a delighted suspicion creeping over him as Dream reached into his jacket pocket. Dream stretched over him, and spoke it low into his ear: “And I will take you to a Spring no man has seen.”
---
Matthew was eating scone crumbs and congratulating himself on his good sense to suggest a picnic. Birds loved picnics too. He hadn’t realized how much until this moment. Jesus. Picnics were a great idea. He was going to tell Dream that human men required them weekly during courtship.
“Thanks for bringing home leftovers, boss,” he said, spraying crumbs all over Dream’s shoulder.
Dream was too preoccupied to mind, or even notice. He waved an imperious hand. “It’s nothing. We absconded from the Waking shortly after we arrived. I have finally given Hob a worthy date. I showed him the virtues of picnicking in a Dreaming Spring.” Oh my god. Dream actually had been jealous of the weather. Because he hadn’t made it for Hob.
“What, no ants?” he offered.
“Hardly so prosaic,” said Dream. He glowed with satisfaction. “The very first.”
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