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moonmaiden1996 · 2 years

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Claiming his Queen

Taking a break from the real world and wanted to write a random idea I needed to get out after watching the Sandman. I loved the book but the casting was amazing. I am literally dying with how good it is. REQUESTS OPEM

Soulmate Fic

Summary- You spent your summers at the Burgess Manor with your parents, but stumbling upon captive in the basement is going to change your life forever.

Slightly dark fic- Warnings include imprisonment, possessive thoughts, pain and soul branding.

You remember playing at the Burgess Manor as a child. The gardens were stunning, a sea of green against the glimpses of colour. You spent many days happily frolicking outside as your parents attended the meeting within the house. Many staff had whispered about the devil trapped in the basement behind the Grand Magus's powerful spells. Some said the Grand Magus himself had discovered the secret to eternal life and hid it behind the door. One staff member even said it was a vampire who would creep upstairs in the dead of night and steal away his victims.

There was a sort of glee at taring around the ancient house, discovering secrets, chasing the ghosts and battling monsters. As you grew older, the monster did not lose their appeal; it was more that you had discovered everything that could be discovered, apart from the mystery of what was in the basement. In the long summer breaks away from school, you spent great lengths observing the guards disappearing and not reappearing till they changed in the early morning. Was it the demon? Buried treasure? Or something more?

The summer humidity clung to your brow as you absentmindedly perused one of the many books in the library. The ruckus from the party had long ago distracted you from reading. Your parents were regular attendees of the Burgess coven meeting; as a child, the cloaks and candles held some romantic notion, but as you grew older, you saw what it was, a chance for bored people to play dress-up and dance around naked.

'You should get to bed.' The soft voice of Paul pulled you from your musings.

'Come on, Uncle Paul, it's early.' You smiled, sliding the book off your lap as you stood.

'Hmmm, well, I won't tell if you won't; there is some chocolate in the study; I think I can trust you not to get caught.' Paul wagged his finger.

With a new sense of glee, you abandoned your attempts to read, slipping into the library unseen, eyeing the bright pink box lined with cherry cordials. Yet it wasn't the chocolates that distracted you; it was the guards. Normally they never emerged outside their shift hours, but the hot night drove them above stairs. Quietly, munching on your chocolate, you watched as the squat men shuffled away.

Biting your lip, you suckled the smears of dark chocolate off your fingers as you hurried along the hallway. Carefully, you pried the door open, willing the squeak away. The staircase of crumbling stone was dimly lit, and the smell of mould and dust loitered in the air, tugging at your nose. Crouching down on the steps, you surveyed the open recess of the room. A frown tugged at the corners of your lips. It was empty save for an out-of-place Ikea desk next to one of the walls. Then something under the white neon lights caught your attention. Moving down the stairs, your eyes adjusted to the almost blinding light. No wonder the guards sort to escape the intense heat given off by the strips of bulbs that hung above you.

Your eyes flickered back to the strange glass ornament in the middle of the floor. For a moment, you thought your eyes were playing tricks. In the centre of the orb sat a naked man, skin almost translucent in the light. Only his ebony black hair seemed to show that he was there. Moving forward, you could not help but let out a horrified gasp. The man was almost painfully thin and painfully naked; you thanked all the gods that he was crossed-legged.

'Hello? Are you ok……' your voice stuck in your throat as the man's head snapped up to meet her gaze, his steely silver eyes piercing through you, drawing you in like a magnet.

Xxxxxxxxxxxx

Even behind the thick glass of his prison, Morpheus felt a sharp sting pierce his soul. His eyes greedily watched as a shiver ran through her body as the invisible thread between them bound them.

A fire had been lit inside him, and hunger he had never felt before clawed up from within him. His gaze had her transfixed; their connection fizzled, desperate to touch. Morpheus always believed that love always ended in pain. Experience had given him definitive proof; Nada, Goodrich, Eric, and Susana all ended in betrayal or anguish. It was messy. Humans were proof. Their love was not real, a fleeting respite from the loneliness, a belief they clung to. Real love was rare. Soulmates were extraordinary magic that the creator bestowed onto humanity at the beginning. It was the only pure magic left in the world. It was strange magic that none of the endless cared to fathom. Why would they? Soulmates were gifts to humans, not the endless, yet there she was—his soulmate.

His silver eyes watched as she moved hypnotised across the short distance. Even through the thick glass, the hum was violent, deafening, and maddening. Lifting his hand, he placed it over the glass beckoning to her.

Xxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxx

Your body felt free, impossible light as it surged forward towards the man. You weren't sure he was real; he was pale and perfect like he had been chiselled out of a piece of alabaster marble. A painful jolt passed through your open palm every step, yet it spurred your movement until your hands met, the glass separating them. It was almost too hot to hold your hand in place, but your body refused to flinch.

His eyes burnt into yours, engraving themselves onto the back of your mind. The swirling silver spheres were the last thing you saw before your body crumpled to the ground.

Xxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxx

The soft mumble of voices was what broke through your unconsciousness, and for a few seconds, your body felt light and free before the heaviness sunk into your bones. The searing pain surged across your left palm and arm until it finally rested in your heart.

'What happened?' Your voice was weak and raspy.

'You were electrocuted, sweetie; you were told never to go down into the basement.' Your mother whispered. 'The burn… is only small. Not worry.’ Her voice cracked a little as her gaze rested on the tightly bandaged hand.

'I….The glass. There was a man.' Your voice sounded so strange to you, so rough and weak.

'There was no man, sweetie. You touched one of the exposed cables; we are lucky Alex found you.’ T

'But there was a man…I…’ you tried.

‘Shhhhh sweetie, we will be home soon. Rest. ’ Your eyes felt too heavy to fight against the command, but they stayed open just long enough to see the look of guilt past your parent's faces and the worry that set deeply in Alex Burgess’s eyes.

xxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxx

After that, you saw your parents less and less. They never did return to the Burgess Manor, and neither did you. All mention of the man in the sphere was forbidden. You had skin graft after skin graft, but nothing could cover the red mark on your hand. A reminder of the man in the sphere. As if you could ever forget. He scared you, the silent creature. In her mind, he was always watching, never speaking, but his eyes seemed to devour you, drawing you in. You wonder if that is how sharks get their prey. They wait for a careless swimmer, too mesmerised by the eyes to notice the teeth before it is too late. You wonder if he has cursed you. Then you wonder if it is too late to save yourself. But you know, it's too late anyway.

Xxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxx

The travel back to the Burgess estate passed quickly. It was almost a relief to see the ominous grey house standing proudly against the green lawns. It was hard to believe ten years had passed already; everything still looked the same, apart from Paul. He stooped a little more now, and his hair, you think, is much greyer than you remember.

'I’m glad to see you again, but you have come at a rather bad time; Alex has had one of his nasty turns.' Paul started.

'I didn't want to see him. I want to see you.’

There was a flash of understanding over his face as he took your arm, leading you away from the house, across the lawn and into the maze that hung off the side of the house, not stopping till only the top of the manor could be seen.

'It's about the man in the basement…’ you began.

'Dear child…’ Paul sighed, interrupting you, but you remained strong in your goal.

'I am not a child anymore. You can't explain it or ignore my questions anymore. I know what I saw…what gave me this.’ You rolled up your sleeve to reveal the angry raised burn that decorated your hand. ‘You can't keep him chained down there anymore.'

'I know…I know… but I can't. Alex… is delicate; you don’t know the power of that thing' he sighed, sitting on the little bench he had walked you to.

'I know exactly. This mark is proof of that. I dream of him; he haunts me. No matter what I do, I still feel that burn through my veins. I cannot get rid of it. …It…it hurts. And I can’t… won't bare it anymore.’ Your bite out the last part as you look down at the man you once tenderly regarded as an Uncle.

He gazed up at you with weary eyes. Only now did you see how old he looked, the worry lines that wreaked his beautifully dark skin.

'You know, in the beginning, I feared him getting out, but now, after all this time, is there anything that he could have done worse than all this?' Paul shook his head as they watched the birds glide across the sky. ‘We should have done more for you, helped you somehow, but Alex was so scared….’

‘What's done is done; just please help me now.’

Paul said nothing, but you saw the slight nod of his head.

Xxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxx

'You know she came by the house today. You remember her, don't you? She has grown into a rather pretty young woman. You can have her; all you need to do is promise.' Alex Burgess was an older man now, made feeble by time and despair.

Often, the man would talk to Morpheus about the future Queen of the Dreaming, forcing pictures of her in front of him like a cruel taunt. Endless questions about the mark, Morpheus’s mark on her skin. Promising to give him her name, not that it mattered, she was HIS Queen, or she would be soon.

The more time passed, the more arrogant his pleas became. The mere fact that he thought he had permission to speak of her insulted Morpheus; the pathetic man thought he could use his future Queen as a bargaining chip. It was an offence the human could ill afford. The King of Dreaming would bide his time and have his revenge on the Burgess before he claimed his future bride and Queen.

Xxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxx

News of Alex Burgess's sleeping sickness came not long after you visited the manor, and the world seemed to fall into some sort of madness. Mass murders, strange weather, people who had been asleep for decades suddenly waking up.

You nibbled your bottom lip. Maybe asking Paul to release his captive was a selfish thing to do. People had died, and for what? That feeling clawing up from within you was still there. Your tanned palm was unchanged; the burn remains like a brand of ownership. It seemed you were still damned, and now the world was in utter chaos. With silent tears rolling down your face, you laid back against the mountain of the pillow and willed yourself away to the only place you found peace, your dream.

Xxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxx

You still dreamt of the silver-eyed man, but the fever and pain seizing your soul were gone. This dream was one of your favourites. It was comfortable and snug. Where nothing mattered because nothing happened, it was just you and your dream. Till you heard the voice. Dreams were always silent, or at least that was how you remembered them. But the low, velvety voice was clear, invading the silence. So deep and rich, it had to be a dream.

It floated around you till it you. Faceless arms stretched around your waist, pulling you against a hard body. Lips ghosted across the nape of your neck and drifted across the plains of your shoulder, working their way back toward your throat.

'My Queen.' The thick voice growled.

The lips were small but soft, worshipping a spot at the base of your neck. Out of the corner of your eye, you could see the familiar mop of black hair that haunted your dreams. A wanton moan escaped your lips as your eyes fluttered shut, knees weak as their teeth scrapped just in the right place.

'Soon, my love, soon. After I complete my unfinished business, I will come for you.'

You woke with a start, a desperate wetness gathering between your plush thighs, the voice echoing across your mind sending shivers of desire across your body as you remembered the gruff voice. You had dreamed about his lips, face and boy before, but never had he spoken.

Wearily, you ran your hand over your neck, freezing as you stared down in disbelief at the angry purple hickey that stained your skin.

Anyone for a smut-heavy part two?

#Morpheus #morpheus x y/n #morpheus x reader #morpheus x you #the sandman #dream #king of dreams #the endless

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daddyjackfrost · 2 years

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darling ; dream x f!reader

sandman masterlist

read my sandman series stay with me here

The Dreaming, a realm of dreams and nightmares, was the home to many, including Dream of the Endless and his wife, Lady of The Dreaming.

In contrast to her husband, Lady of The Dreaming was a soft and gentle soul. The light to his dark. The dream to his nightmare. While Dream managed everything that occurred in the night, the nightmares and creatures, His Lady managed The Dreaming in the day, the more mundane of dreamers. Those who drifted in and out of their realm; the children, the elderly, and the night owls.

It was a good life. A happy, loving, joyful life. One that Morpheus and his Lady wouldn’t have traded for anything. They were content, and so in love.

Until the King of Dreams and Nightmares was captured. For over a century.

80 years later…

Lucienne, the head librarian of The Dreaming, paced in front of the crumbling library doors. The library was one of the only places in The Dreaming that remained upright. As the rest of the realm withered away, Lucienne and the Lady tried their best to keep the Library—Morpheus’s favourite place—as intact as they could. All their belief and love was channeled towards the tower filled with books as old as time.

With a hesitant knock, the librarian waited for an invitation.

“Come in, Lucienne.”

Pushing the door open, Lucienne’s eyes landed on the slumped figure of her Ladyship. As she had been doing for years now, the Lady of the Dreaming stared out of the Library’s grand window. She watched her realm, the one she had loved and taken care of for thousands of years, deteriorate into rubble.

Lucienne threaded her fingers together. Not only had she watched her home turn into nothing, she watched her Queen, once lively and the heart of the Dreaming, turn into an empty shell of the God she once was.

“Can I make you some tea, my Ladyship? Perhaps a meal?”

The Lady turned her head and smiled at her old friend. Without Lucienne, the Dreaming would have crumbled completely long ago. She patted the empty space next to her. “Come sit, Lucienne. I could use the company of a friend.”

Lucienne smiled and sat next to her Lady. Together, they both travelled deep within their minds, recalling old memories of their home, when it was once beautiful and filled with imagination.

“I wonder what Morpheus thinks about, trapped in that glass. I have not seen him since Corinthian made Burgess place a shielding spell. Do you think he knows we have not abandoned him?”

Lucienne hesitated. Ever since Jessamy was killed, there had been no news about the King of Dreams. Shifting her eyes to the Lady, Lucienne took in her sullen eyes, her glazed skin, and the slight tremble of her hands.

“Lord Morpheus is smart. That being said, I’m sure he does not know that his absence has resulted in… this.” Lucienne wanted to console her Ladyship, but there was little to offer. “He thinks about you, I’m sure.”

The Lady of The Dreaming clapped her hands and stood, smoothing out her long black dress. “Yes, he must. Let’s make our rounds, Lucienne. Perhaps we shall find something unusual today.”

Together, a librarian and a God in love walked the planes of their home, hand in hand, welcoming the warmth and comfort they offered the other, knowing they had little time left.

100 years later…

Dark, silver and blue eyes watched as Alex Burgess’s wheelchair wiped away the containment spell that had kept Dream, King of the Dreaming, captive for over a century.

Paul, Alex’s lover, turned back to look at the strange and powerful man. With the slightest nod, he pushed Alex’s wheelchair towards the door. This was the last time either man would come to the basement. They had hoped that this final offering would spare them.

Dream let out the softest of breaths, he could feel the freedom that awaited him. With the slightest stretch of his muscles, Dream stood. The hum around him grew louder, and settled deep within his heart.

With what remaining power he had, Dream broke free from his prison. Putting the guards to sleep, Dream rolled his shoulders. Before he reunited with his love, his wife, he had someone else he needed to take care of.

Alex Burgess had to pay for his crime. And the crimes of his father.

An unfortunate becoming, Dream thought. To pay for a father’s crime.

With a deep breath, Dream travelled to Alex Burgess’s dreams.

“Hello,” Dream spoke slowly. His voice carried through Alex’s mind, wrapping around his subconscious and drowning him.

Alex Burgess's eyes widened into a look Dream had come to familiarize with.

Fear.

“It’s you. You’re… you’re free.”

Dream stood, in all his dark glory. “I am. Do you have any idea what it was like? Confined in a cage for a century?” There was malice in his voice, running deeper than Dream’s thirst for vengeance. “Do you understand the damage you’ve done to your world?”

Alex shook his head, trying to back away from the very entity that had haunted his waking hours for years. “I’m sorry,” the man cried, “I didn’t know. Please.”

Dream stepped closer to the frightened man and leaned down. His eyes glowed and his anger simmered. “Your punishment, then, shall be a gift.” Dream had not missed the wince that came from Alex Burgess. After all, it was his father’s selfish need for a gift that had killed him.

“I give you this, the gift… of eternal… sleep.”

With a blow of sand, Alex Burgess was put to sleep for eternity.

Morpheus, now completely free of human control, thought of home. His realm. His love.

With no time wasted, Dream opened a gateway to The Dreaming. He was going home, back to his sweet lover.

Dark grains of sand prickled Dream’s face. With power he seemed to lack, Morpheus had gracefully landed in his realm on his side, weak.

“Sir? Sir!”

A familiar, feminine voice called out to Dream, and for just a human second, he imagined it to be his lover. Footsteps ran closer, and Dream tried to open his eyes.

“Oh, my goodness. It’s me.” Lucienne crouched beside her Lord. “It’s Lucienne.”

With a soft gasp, Morpheus opened his eyes. A burst of something warm washed over him, seeing his librarian. His loyal, forever liable librarian.

“Lucienne,” Morpheus said weakly.

Lucienne's lips pulled into a smile, her eyes glazed. “You’re home, my Lord.” She put her hand out.

Reaching for her hand, Morpheus’s eyes twinkled. “I am.”

Pulling her Master up, Lucienne and Morpheus stared at each other. Unspoken words, apologies, and questions hovered in the air between them. But Lucienne just smiles, and Morpheus nodded once.

They both begin the trek back to the palace, and Lucienne watches as her Lord takes in the outskirts of The Dreaming. How dull and unkept it has become.

Once they reached the doors to The Dreaming, Lucienne cleared her throat. “Forgive me, sir, but the realm… the palace… they are not as you left them.”

Morpheus pushed open the large doors. His eyes scanned the view before him. A piece of his heart broke, seeing his creation, his realm, in this state.

With a deeper, emotional undertone, Morpheus asked, “What happened here? Who did this?”

Lucienne threaded her fingers together. Her eyes on the tower, where she knew her Lady was residing.

“My lord, you are The Dreaming, The Dreaming is you. With you gone for as long as you were, everything began to crumble and decay.”

“What of the residents? The palace staff?”

Lucienne did not miss his true intention. What of my Queen? Where is she?

“Gone, sir. Most are gone.”

Morpheus' eyes lit with a dull fire. “Had they so little faith in me? That I would return?”

Lucienne wishes she could have been honest with him. Tell him just how his absence had affected the realm, the residents. She wished she could have reminded him of the Endless that had abandoned their realm. But she held her tongue. Like the loyal servant she was.

“What of my Queen, Lucienne? Where is she?” Morpheus wished he sounded less fearful.

Lucienne hesitated, and then she sighed. “She is here, my Lord.” Stepping next to Dream, Lucienne pointed at the palace tower, the library. “She is there. Waiting for you.”

Without hesitation, Morpheus began walking towards the palace. Once he reunited with his love, held her in his arms, he could think about his realm and the damage he had yet to repair.

Lucienne followed her Lord quickly behind him. As they reached the palace, Lucienne opened her mouth. “Sir… If I may?”

The hesitation in Lucienne’s voice put Morpheus on edge. Turning his head slightly back, he raised his eyebrow at Lucienne. “Speak, Lucienne.”

“In your absence, The Dreaming began to fall apart. The only reason it is still standing, is because her Ladyship has commanded it to. She is powerful, sir, but not as strong as you. For a century she has used power she does not hold, and it has taken a toll on her.”

Lucienne watched as Morpheus' back became rigid, how he flexed his fingers just to clench them.

“Like The Dreaming, I’m afraid she’s dying, my Lord. She’s carrying the weight of The Dreaming, and it was not meant for her.”

Morpheus stopped in front of the Library doors. He stood stiller than Lucienne had ever seen him. Power and anger rolled off him, and Lucienne squeezed her hands together harder. With a tone she had yet to hear, Morpheus spoke.

“Thank you, Lucienne. Leave me to mend the heart and strength of my Queen.”

Lucienne nodded, bowing. “Of course, my Lord.”

Before Lucienne could walk away, in a smaller voice, Dream asked her the one question that had haunted him for a century.

“Does she hate me, Lucienne?”

With no hesitation, Lucienne answered. “No, sir. She loves you just as much as you love her. If not more.”

Morpheus waited until Lucienne’s became a faint whisper. With a newfound fear, he brought his pale, slightly trembling hand to the door and knocked, once.

“Come in, Lucienne.”

Morpheus’s eyes fluttered. With a deep breath, he pushed open the library doors. Morpheus’s eyes landed on his Queen, sitting on a simple seat that looked like a throne. Morpheus’s dark eyes travelled the length of his lover, taking in her weaker body and sullen eyes.

“Darling,” Morpheus whispered.

With speed that had long died, Lady of The Dreaming turned her head to face her husband. Her eyes met his, glazed and remorseful, and she stood.

With parted lips, the Lady whispered, “Morpheus?”

As magnets do, or souls bounded by fate, Morpheus and his lover pulled towards each other. Arms and bodies tangled together, and they both took their first breath. Scents of the other filled their bodies and their hearts beat as one.

Morpheus tightened his arms around his lover, and let out a sigh at the feeling of her hands in his hair. Their bodies fused together as one, unknown to them where one started and the other ended.

His Queen pulled away, just enough to rest her forehead against his. “Am I dreaming, Morpheus? Please say no, I cannot handle it. Are you really here?”

Morpheus’s voice, thick with emotion, came from deep within his body. “I am here, my love. I am here.” At the sound of a quiet, broken sob, Morpheus pressed a kiss to his Queen’s forehead. “Oh, my darling. My love. My Queen. I am here.”

Fragile hands tightened their grip on his robes. Morpheus lifted his hand from his lover’s waist and placed it on her cheek. “You’ll never be alone again, I promise.”

Lady of The Dreaming nodded, believing her King. She could feel his trembling fingers. “It was horrible without you, my love. I…” She lifted her eyes to meet Morpheus’s. His eyes were screaming at her. Tell me everything. Be honest with me. I’m sorry. I love you.

“I am tired.”

Morpheus shut his eyes. When he spoke, his breath tickled her cheeks. “I know, darling. I’m sorry.”

Then, Lady of The Dreaming asked her husband for the thing she had wanted–needed– for over a century.

“Kiss me, Morpheus. Please.”

Knowing he owed her much more, Morpheus brought his lips to hers. Her lips were soft, almost silken, and untouched against his. Morpheus could feel the soft tickle of her breath beneath his nose, fingers carding through his hair and he breathed her in.

Pulling each other closer, the King and Queen of The Dreaming used their bodies to convey all their words, the apologies and confessions that had gone long unsaid.

Their reunion pleased The Dreaming, and as the King and Queen mended their relationship, The Dreaming began to mend itself.

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natalihall · 1 year

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Morpheus • The Lord of Dreams

(digital fanart based on Netflix show "The Sandman")

I recently watched "The Sandman" from Netflix and caught an overdose of another character from the category "my personal fetish" ❤️‍🔥 Of course, I assumed that I would like Morpheus, but so much 🔥 However, it's not surprising. Gothic-aesthetic men with a sculpted face and dressed in a black cloak have always been a separate kind of my love. And also here is my favorite atmosphere of Dreams and Mysticism. So, +1 to the collection of fandoms and definitely +1 to the collection of TOP male characters.

Of course, I have a couple of objective complaints about the show, but if in general – I was in love ❤️ The plot of the series corresponds to the comic almost verbatim (jeez, how cool!). And for me, as a lover of aesthetics and beautiful visuals, the darkly atmospheric show has become an inspiring addition to the graphic novel. Although some moments are too smoothed out. The original source is still tougher and much mature 😅

BUT! The Lord of Dreams in this adaptation is amazing! He conquered me 🖤😍 So I'm waiting for the Season 2 and drawing ✍🏻

BUY PRINT

@netflix @tomsturridge-blog

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4typercent · 5 months

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A super wrinkly update 👉👈 and he's in the sun!

Dream Stitch Update 11 🧵 🪡

How is this only (almost) 28%?

I'm still blown away by how this looks up close and bamboozled by how striking he looks from afar. This is the larger trail of sand from his hand 👇 *I'm still working on it* It has five different colours so far and many more to come.

Will I ever sell this pattern? No. Find out here as to why.

#the sandman #dream of the endless #morpheus #lord morpheus #dream!stitch #lord shaper #shaper of forms #king of dreams #king of nightmares #my cross stitch #my cross stitch wip #not for sale #not for commission #not for donation

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teejaystumbles · 2 years

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This just somehow...happened?? I don’t even know anymore where to put my love for this character, can I just have him in my dreams forever pleeeease? have a Shakespeare sonnet instead of my rambling:

When most I wink, then do mine eyes best see, For all the day they view things unrespected; But when I sleep, in dreams they look on thee, And, darkly bright, are bright in dark directed; Then thou whose shadow shadows doth make bright, How would thy shadow's form form happy show To the clear day with thy much clearer light, When to unseeing eyes thy shade shines so! How would, I say, mine eyes be blessed made By looking on thee in the living day, When in dead night thy fair imperfect shade Through heavy sleep on sightless eyes doth stay! All days are nights to see till I see thee, And nights bright days when dreams do show thee me.

#own art #dream of the endless #morpheus #king of dreams #the sandman fanart #sonnet 43 #teejaystumbles

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redundantz · 2 years

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some dreamy bois

#the sandman #morpheus #king of dreams #sandman #rotg #rise of the guardians #my art #redundantz art #sketch #dream the endless

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enchantingqueenkitten · 2 years

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‘Next time, I’ll draw blood’ ~ Desire ~ The Sandman

BONUS

#thesandman #thesandmanedit #desire #the sandman desire #desire the endless #desire of the endless #mason alexander park #the sandman comics #netflix edit #the endless #lord morpheus #morpheus #lord of dreams #king of dreams #dream of the endless #desire sandman #the sandman spoilers #the sandman series

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minorcrisis1 · 2 years

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Me @ Morpheus, King of Dreams, tumblr’s new sexy man

#the sandman #Morpheus #dream #dream of the endless #king of nightmares #king of dreams #sandman #Netflix #deep voice #voice #his voice #tom sturridge #sandman netflix #netflix the sandman #lord morpheus #during all of ep. 1

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talktolwt · 10 months

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I would like to focus on the music chosen for Hob Gadling's 80s sequence.

I'm extremely late to the world of The Sandman (finally binged it two weeks ago after my mother had been begging me to watch it with her and now I'm more obsessed than her) Bottom line: I'm unbelievably glad I finally watched this beautiful piece of television.

I have yet to read the comics but as for the first season, I have to say, without a doubt, my favorite episode is Chapter 6: The Sound of Her Wings. Death's 20-min segment is a beauty unto itself, but I'll be focusing on Hob's segment today. Specifically, his 80s scenes.

Considering I'm so late to this fandom and exploring all of its wondrous details and themes, excuse me if this has already been noted. I've been thinking about these details over and over but I need to get it out there in the Sandman world and hear everyone else's thoughts.

*Also excuse the terrible photos - Netflix doesn't let you screenshot and I was too lazy to get another app to let me bypass it. Please bear with my photos of my laptop screen.*

There are three songs that play throughout this sequence.

#1 - "She Drives Me Crazy" by Fine Young Cannibals

I accidentally deleted half my post mid-writing this but here I go again.

As we can see, after the breakup scene, we open up on Hob Gadling (he looks amazing in his 80s look, by the way) and this song plays.

Here are the lyrics:

I mean - where do I even start LMAO.

*Let me just give another note - regardless if you ship Dreamling romantically or not, I will be merely analyzing these lyrics as they are and how they convey Hob's feelings for Dream in general. But, I mean, the songs are THERE, the text is THERE. So do with that what you will.*

This will go for the following two songs as well, but these songs are placed with meaningful intention. Each of these offer a unique lens and dive into Hob's feelings.

I won't be annoying and over-explain anything, but the lyrics are clear I feel:

"She drives me crazy" - cough

"Things you do don't seem real" - in Hob's view, Dream literally is an enigma. Hob has no idea the capacities, the limits, and even the name of this being he meets every century.

"This waiting 'round's killing me" - well.

"Everything you say is lies" - now I wouldn't say particularly lies, but Dream does keep and omit things from Hob. Understandably, Hob would find himself in a confused limbo with Dream.

Here's the kicker:

"I won't make it on my own/No one likes to be alone." - HELLO. I mean, if this isn't the core message and pinnacle of Dream and Hob's lesson to immortality.

As Death mentions earlier in the episode, around 18:10, "Most of us will be glad for the company of a friend."

I feel I could go on forever and ever about the beauty of this episode and how well The Sound of Her Wings and Men of Good Fortune intertwine. They beautifully complement each other as stories lamenting the dichotomy of life and death, and the joys of humanity.

But essentially, Death reteaches Dream how beautiful humans can truly be, and in this pivotal moment, she says this zinger of a line. The camera was initially on Death but for THIS line, it cuts to Dream.

BECAUSE - poor Dream is definitely in need a friend.

Which is then shown to the audience by the 30-min long Hob Gadling sequence that ensues, and we see Dream's aversion to needing someone, to needing a friend.

But I digress - back to the song, and that one line about not wanting to be alone.

That is such a poignant line, because as much as Dream felt alone and needed company, so does Hob? An immortal, constantly seeing the death of others around him, his companions and family long gone, he needs someone.

Considering this 80s sequence ruminates so heavily on post-breakup feelings, Hob is missing Dream dearly. His constant in life.

I'm rambling too much, onto the next one!

#2 - "Shattered Dreams" by Johnny Hates Jazz

Time skip to perhaps a few hours later, who knows. We see Hob still waiting for Dream, alone in the pub.

Hm.

Literally what else could I say. I'm being slapped in the face with pining and angst and longing.

Here are the lyrics:

Some noteworthy lyrics:

"So much for your promises/They died the day you let me go" - this breakup man

"Caught up in a web of lies" - another lie motif

"I thought it was you/Who would stand by my side" - the theme of Dream and Hob being constants in each other's lives

"Shattered dreams" - I could scream. The title of the song. SHATTERED. DREAMS. giggling rn.

"Woke up to reality" - I think that's a very interesting line toeing between the constant references of the Waking and the Dreaming

Basically, I've been noting these evident similarities within the songs to align themselves to Dream and Hob's situation, and it's clear that the director/writers chose these songs with intent of it paralleling Dreamling.

So that makes it even more insane when lines like "From this empty heart" are meant to parallel Hob. Like.

Okay, last song.

#3 - "Keep On Moving" by Soul II Soul

This song plays as the night progresses. It's late, it's clear Dream isn't showing up, and Hob is feeling pretty final about that, and perhaps he's accepted it at this point. Dream isn't coming.

So this is where he speaks to the bartender and that scene ensues.

Here are the lyrics:

The themes of time and clocks are super prevalent within this song, and again it's once more clear how heavily this reflects and represents Hob.

Noteworthy lyrics:

"Why do people choose to live their lives this way?" - I think this also uniquely touches on the general aspect of humanity and one's reason to live/love life. Dream battles with his confusion/slight disappointment for humanity at the beginning, as he asks Death, "Why would any sensible creature crave an eternity of this?" And then Hob helps Dream realize why there's so much to live for. (24:30)

"I know the time will come today/The time will come one day"

"Walking alone in my own way" - Again this idea of walking alone and needing company.

"You'll be in my life, my life always" - Dream and Hob being constants again.

This all goes to say - Hob cares. He cares for Dream.

And I just think that's very beautiful. The magnitude with which Dream's absence means to him and how much their friendship/companionship both means to each of them. I just think their connection is a beautiful thing that I love seeing and rewatching. Wonderfully, these songs give the audience even more layered insight into this connection.

This was super long, and I apologize if I went on some tangents. But I also just couldn't help it, The Sandman is so incredibly rich in its storytelling and its connections and dynamics that I had to write this all down. I also just very much appreciate the amount of care and detail that goes into every aspect of television, and needle drops such as these three songs are no exception.

Thank you for sticking with me through this! Can't wait for season 2!

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moonmaiden1996 · 2 years

Text

Claiming his Queen Part Two

Honestly, you so much. I did not expect to get such as wonderful response. Thank you so much.

Warnings- Smut, dark love, possessive love, obsessives love, soul branding, kidnapping

The hickey took a week to disappear, the purple hue mocking you from beneath your clothing. It took a further week before you realised you had an interloper in your dreams. You could never see him; he was always just on the edge of your sight, almost like he was teasing you and begging you to see him again. Despite that, you could feel him watching you, touching you, willing you to submit to him. The worst part was that you wanted to. He made you weak and desperate.

Dreams were no longer a sanctuary; they were a prison to your desire and need.

But you would not waver to him. Not submit to his power. The burn might still be there, but you weren’t beaten yet.

Your research had been fruitful. Demons could not manifest themselves in the physical world without a host or a spell that would bind them to a particular spot. With the spell ring destroyed and the manor, the demon was harmless; the only place it could get to you was your dreams. Thirty more minutes of research were enough to realise you could only manifest a dream if you were in REM sleep, a deep enough sleep that the physical world had no bind to you. In which the perfect plan presented itself.

You brought a ridiculously expensive sleep monitor system and alarm. If we set the alarm to wake you every hour and a half, you could fight off the dreams without falling into the depths of sleep deprivation. It was the only plan you had, and if it didn’t. You shivered. It didn’t bare thinking about.

Xxxxxxxxxxxxx

You were lounging on a pile of cushions on your bedroom floor, the sound of rain pattering against your window. In your hands, you fiddled with the alarm. It was a little white box with a thin set of wires, now securely attached to your wrist. This could work.

A small smile etched across your face as a pleasant warmth caressed against the side of your neck. A small mew escaped from your mouth as lips moved across your throat before nuzzling against the side of your face. The familiar mop of obsidian locks tickled at your skin.

Fuck. Fuck. Fuck.

‘I have missed you. My business is almost complete; then, we will be together.’ His low voice vibrated across your neck and straight to your core.

Squeezing your eyes shut, you tensed. Where was that freaking alarm?

‘I just need a little touch to sustain me. Will you grant me this one small thing, my love?’ He mumbled into your skin, hands roaming across your body as his lips devoured your neck, teeth scraping across your delicate skin.

You didn’t respond; you didn’t need to. A throaty moan escaped your traitorous mouth as warm fingers ran across your panties, ghosting across your clit. It was not enough for you to feel anything but to abandon all logical thoughts and surrender yourself to his sinful embrace.

You bucked your hips forward, pushing your wet pussy into his hand. Your treacherous body succumbing to its base instincts.

‘Let me hear you.’ His voice was like liquid sin, fuelling the fire in the pit of your stomach.

A gasp ripped from her throat as the pads of three of his fingers rolled tight circles across the top of your clit. You were clenching around nothing, chest heaving as you tried to remain still, biting your lip in a feeble attempt to control the unbridle moans that spewed from your mouth. But your stubborn resolve only earnt an increase in pressure that made you whimper, as his fingertips burrowed down directly, working into the sensitive bundle of nerves through the thin cotton of your underwear. Beside you, you could feel his breath becoming laboured- impatient, frustrated grunts as his gaze absorbed the tremble of your hips.

Your gaze clung to the thick mop of hair; the side profile of his face was beautiful, with white skin and an elegant nose dipping gently down to the pretty pink lips parted in a growl. You wanted to see him fully, but you feared if you did, all resolve would collapse, and you would be lost in the grasp of this demon.

‘I NEED to taste you.’ He growled primally.

Cool air attacked your bare skin causing a needy whine to tumble from the back of your throat. A dark chuckle vibrated against your thighs as the black figure pushed them apart and kept them wide. With a flick of his fingers, your underwear disappeared in a cloud of dust before he nestled down between your legs. His smooth face nuzzled in between your thighs. Full lips mouthed against your tender flesh before his tongue slowly descended across the recesses of your core. Oh god. Your fingers dug into his thick mane as you watched him burrow deeper into your folds, licking a heavy stripe up the length of your pussy. Before slowly, he drove the tip of his tongue inside you, moaning wantonly at the taste of your wetness, before returning his attention to your clit, suckling it between his lips

‘Oh my…fuck!’ Was all you could stammer as you arched your back off the bed.

Fluttering lashes shot up to you, framing the beautiful mercury eyes of your predator. He dared to smirk against your pussy before his furious tongue lashed against your clit, thrusting his jaw deeper to pull a series of pathetic cries from you, hungry like a starved man eating the forbidden fruit. His eyes burnt into you, never blinking, never moving an itch as you writhed against his mouth.

You were powerless against his moans, the vibrations strumming on your sensitive core as he suckled between your clit and your begging opening.

You were already close, but who could blame you when he devoured you, his silver eyes pulling you in? Tears pricked at your eyes, unable to look away from him, lapping at your centre. You babbled, moaned and cried, dark eyes drinking you in. Suddenly, his tongue plunged into you. Your lips parted to make a desperate plea.

Then.

Then the dream shook. You couldn’t hear your moans anymore or his soft grunts as he ate you out, just the piercing wail of an alarm. Your alarm. His eyes darted away from you to glare at the black strap tightly bound to your wrist as it ripped you away from the dream.

Xxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxx

You awoke whimpering.

You were dripping with arousal, clit throbbing. Yet your brand on your palm was suspiciously pain free. Tentatively glancing down, you felt a gush of relief as your saw the flash of cotton, your underwear was still firmly in place. It was all a dream. You were safe.

Yet.

‘What. Is. This.’ The voice roared.

Your eyes darted up, resting on the figure of the man standing directly next to you on the bed.

‘You…you can't be here…you’re a demon, I am dreaming. This isn’t real.’ You knew it was, but you hoped it would be true if you said it aloud.

He looked the same as he did ten years ago. However, now he was dressed in an immaculate black suit, yet he looked rumpled, hair a dishevelled finger thread mess. His mouth and chin shone in the moonlight with your sticky essence.

‘I am no demon’, he spat, angry silver eyes glinting menacingly in the darkness. ‘I am the King of the Dreams.’

Dreams? Shit.

‘I will ask you one last time, my love, What. Is. This?’

‘I…’ What could you say?

‘Master…’ a voice called behind, pulling away his gaze. Behind him, an inky black raven emerged from the dark, nudging the white box. ‘it’s a sleep tracker; it wakes her up’ it paused, flapping its wings before resuming ‘if she starts to dream,’ The bird sounded almost disappointed, sad even as it shook its feathers.

You didn’t want to, but you looked back at the looming man. He stared at you coldly, fury swirling in those silvery depths, but now they turn grey and icy, like a winter’s sky.

‘I am disappointed; I tried to be patient, but you trick me with this.’ As he spoke, the slim box shattered in his hands, the deep rich voice now a bitter mummer as a delicate finger tugged open a small pouch, and with a majestic flick, a swirl of sand tugged you into darkness.

‘Shhh shhh, sleep for now.’

Yes, I am evil, and yes I am a whore for Dark Morpheus. For the next chapter, I think... more smut is in order (obviously), Morpheus POV? and Morpheus's big sister might appear. What do you think? Please leave comments below as they make me so happy!

@daydreamin1220 @starsleeping-m @jesllianaquilesrolon @columbinathedove @ultimatreality @startdust-and-starlight @duhitzdae @songbirdcannabe @musemaniac42 @wt-fxck @quillycrow

#Morpheus #morpheus x y/n #morpheus x reader #morpheus x you #the sandman #king of dreams

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daddyjackfrost · 2 years

Text

Chapter 1: A Fated Meet

╰┈➤ ❝ [Stay With Me ; Morpheus] ❞

morpheus x fem!reader

warnings: third person pov, 5k+ words, i have not read the comics

read chapter 2 here

stay with me ; masterlist

The air was warm and husk as the full moon illuminated the small village, livelier than it ever was during the day. Peasants swarmed around, singing and drinking. That was the power of the dark, it brought upon such comfort. Hidden, yet not concealed, had been humanity’s favourable way of living.

Death, the maternal eldest sister of her siblings, quite enjoyed small towns. The first act of life and the final act of death felt intimate among villages, and perhaps it was her yearning to understand humanity, but a mourning village was humanity’s greatest display of love.

Walking beside Death, was her younger brother: Dream. Both of the siblings, The Endless, were out in the Waking World for different reasons.

Death, while doing her job, wanted to walk amongst humans with her brother. She wanted him to connect to the living, awake humans that visited his realm. It had been an old conversation that had carried on for thousands of years.

Dream, in all his ancient and sullen glory, had left his realm to appease his sister.

Death smiled at Dream, motioning her head towards the lively tavern to their right. “Let’s go inside, Dream.” Death began walking towards the tavern, her dress following behind her.

Dream held back a sigh. When it came to Death, there was not a single place he would not follow. As much as he disliked leaving his realm, he had yet to decline an offer from Death. For her, Dream would do anything.

Dream’s original impression of the tavern did not do it justice. The inside of the wooden pub was filled with village folk, men and women alike. Loud, overlapping conversations and lit torches welcomed the siblings. In the midst of the chaos, Death and Dream walked slowly through the tavern.

“Must we spend time here, dear sister? I assumed we would visit those who called to you.”

Although the tavern was loud, overwhelmingly so, Dream’s voice wrapped around Death.

“Patience, Dream.” Grabbing two jugs of alcohol, Death handed one to Dream, who looked at her unimpressed. “Look around you. This… this is humanity. This is what they live for.”

Dream scanned the tavern, taking in the scene before him. His eyes trailed their clothes, their hair, and their mannerisms. Dream did not know how his sister could see beyond what mortals were, temporary. Humans were nothing special, not to Dream. They had simply been created to give his siblings and himself a purpose. A job.

“I do not know how one could want to live this life. They are miserable. Why else do they sleep as much as they do? Spend much of their life in my realm?”

Death rolled her eyes, and took a sip of her drink. As she did, Dream placed his drink on an empty table, abandoning it.

“Humans are so much more than you give them credit for, Dream.”

“Doubtful,” Dream said, slightly amused. Death’s relentless pursuit was admirable. “A human could not love this life. This is why they kill and return to you so quickly.”

Death raised an eyebrow, a challenging glint in her eyes. “Is that so?”

Dream nodded, once. He controlled the realm of dreams and nightmares. He was the King of The Dreaming, he knew what humans yearned for, dreamed for, and it was not this. Nightmares for humans consisted of happenings from the Waking World; debt, illness, loss, and fear.

Mortals feared their own creations, as well as his.

Death began walking. “I want to introduce you to someone, Dream. Someone I believe may change your stubborn mind.”

Curious, Dream followed his sister. The Endless were not supposed to mingle with mortals, not unless absolutely necessary. And his sister was not one to break the rules.

Death stopped in her tracks, staring at a table of women. Dream paused next to her, his eyes landing on a woman half standing in her seat, her voice passionately carrying through the tavern.

“I will never die, Karisa. I recommend you do not as well. Look around you,” the woman spread her arms, motioning to the tavern, “there is so much to live for. Why would death take me from a world I was born to love?”

Dream’s eyes darkened. There was something in the woman’s voice that called to him, cut through the noise of the tavern and reached his ears. Intrigued, Dream shifted closer to the woman.

At the slight movement next to her, Death’s lip twitched. She leaned into Dream, speaking quietly.

“This, Dream, is Y/n L/n. A mortal not afraid of death, but afraid of not loving enough.”

Dream stood straighter. “You once asked me if a human could love their life enough to live it forever, and I believe we may have just found our answer.”

Dream hummed in response. With the slight tilt of his head, he considered this human. At first glance, she appeared to look like any other woman that visited his realm. Dream’s eyes travelled the length of the woman. Her hair seemed to shine, her eyes twinkled, and something magical seemed to run in her blood.

It was with distraught as Dream of The Endless realized he found this human to be beautiful.

From the corner of her eyes, Death tried to decipher the look on her brother’s face. Yet, Dream remained stoic and unmoved.

“We all die, Y/n. There is no escaping it.” Karisa, the blonde woman sitting across Y/n, stated.

Y/n shook her head, tucking her escaped hair behind her ear. “No,” she disagreed. “If this life was a gift, Death shall not take it back. Surely it cannot be that hateful.”

Death grinned, and Dream’s soft pink lips twitched.

“Are you hateful, sister?”

Death let out a small laugh. “Not even close,” she whispered back.

“What do you propose, then? How will you live your life to escape death?” Karisa asked, amused.

Death, Dream, and the other women around the table leaned closer, intrigued by Y/n’s answer.

“Simple,” Y/n sat back on her stool. “I will simply live my life, promising to love openly. There is such a wide sea I have yet to explore, land I have yet to see. I know I shall live my life to the fullest. And my love for living will save me.”

Dream let out the softest of sighs. He had never heard a human speak in such a way. The very reason he existed was because when the Waking World left humans wanting and weary, they would enter his realm.

If humans began to love their waking life, would there be a need for The Dreaming?

Dream planned to ask Lucienne about Y/n. What she dreamed of. What scared her. Why did he not recognize her from his realm?

Karisa, seemingly familiar with Y/n’s passion, laughed. “Love is not that strong, my naive dove. It cannot save you.”

Y/n’s eyes seemed to glow brighter, determined. “On the contrary, my dear Karisa, I believe love to be very strong. And I have much to love, much to give my heart to.” With a smile that only a friend could decipher, Y/n said, “you know how much love I have to give.”

Karisa let out a small smile, shaking her head. “Yes, darling. You and your overly large heart.”

Y/n brought her jug to her lips, smiling at her friend.

Death shared a look with Dream. Many, many, eons ago, Death and Dream laid their opinions about humans on the table. Dream, confined to the human unconscious, believed that mortals could never love their lives, hence his very purpose.

Death, closer to humanity than any of her siblings, argued that a human’s capacity to live their life had little to do with eternity, and more with their ability to love.

With a nod, Death straightened and laid her hand upon Dream’s shoulder. “I grant Y/n L/n immortality. For as long as she loves her life and yearns to live, she shall live.” Turning to look at Dream, Death continued. “I, Death of The Endless, grant Dream of The Endless to take her life, if the chance arises.”

Dream tensed under Death’s touch, his lips parting for the slightest of moments at Death’s change of tone. Dream had taken lives before, but Death’s permission seemed intimate, like a ribbon of fate had been tied to his name.

Death released her grip on Dream’s shoulder and smiled at him.

“Learn from Y/n, Dream. Let her guide you to the meaning of humanity. And more importantly,” Death’s voice turned breathy, ancient, “she is yours.”

Dream’s lips twitched down. The air around him grew heavy and darkness crept into the tavern.

“Explain the meaning behind your last sentence, sister.”

Dream’s voice was huskier, taunting. It prickled the nape of Death’s neck. Although Death was older and wiser, she had seemingly forgotten that Death also ruled Nightmares, and his company was not all pleasant.

Stepping away from her brother, Death smiled. “I’m but a messenger of fate, Dream.”

Dream stared at the space Death occupied before she vanished. Flexing his fingers behind his back, Dream slipped into the shadows. He would wait to speak with Y/n, once they were alone.

Positioned at her highest, brightest point, the moon stood proud as the tavern emptied and the village-folk found their way back to straw mattresses and the cold floor.

Y/n, the last of her friends to remain, walked out of the tavern with the energy of a child. Hours within the crowded bar did little to hinder her appearance. Among the dirty, poorly mannered villagers, Y/n appeared to be a dream.

Dark calculating eyes watch the mortal from the shadows. Dream emerges into the moonlight with grace, his black robes dragging against the dirt road. Hand clasped behind his back, he stands tall as Y/n walks away from him.

“Are you the one who speaks of defying death?”

Dream’s voice is low and he speaks his words slowly, drawing her in. Y/n halts, her back instantly straightening. With caution, she turns and a small gasp escapes her.

Standing before her is a tall, lean man with snow-white skin, and long black hair. She recognizes the embroidery on his black robes as those of the wealthy. Shadows hide his features, but Y/n does not miss his sharp jaw or the downward curve of his lips.

Strange, she thinks, everything about him is dark, except his lips.

“Love, was it?” The stranger’s voice vibrates against Y/n’s spine. “Your love for life will be your saving grace?”

Y/n turned completely, coming face-to-face with a being that resembled a man, yet felt anything but.

“Are you mocking me, sir?” Y/n raised an eyebrow at the man. She had not seen him in the tavern, and the man before her was not dismissable.

“Anything but, human. I find your love for living intriguing.” Dream took one step closer, his voice ticking Y/n’s cheek. “You must tell me how far love gets you.”

Dream’s lips curve upwards briefly, and Y/n pinches her hand. “Let us meet every hundred years, Y/n L/n, and you shall tell me if you truly love this life.”

Before Dream can slip back into his realm, Y/n asks him: “How will you find me?”

Dream had forgotten how conscious humans can be. As Dream prepared to respond, he noticed a glint in Y/n’s eyes, one that seemed to already know his answer, but yearned for the words to be spoken aloud.

“I will find you, Y/n. Even if you may not want me to.”

With that, Dream slipped back into the shadows and into his realm, The Dreaming. Before the gateway closed, Dream caught Y/n’s brief smile and turned his head. He had experienced enough of humanity to last him a thousand years.

Waiting in Dream’s throne room, Lucienne, the chief librarian, stood patiently. She had received word from her Lord to find everything they had on a Y/n L/n, and to Lucienne’s frustration, there was very little.

“Lucienne.”

Lucienne bowed as Dream walked by her and sat on the steps of his throne. Raising her head, Lucienne faced her Lord, smiling. “How was your trip in the Waking World, my Lord?”

Dream paid little attention to the librarian.“Interesting,” he answered, shortly.

His eyes landed on Lucienne’s empty hands and Dream frowned. “I asked for records, Lucienne. Where are they?” Dream’s voice remained as soft and emotionless as it always did, but Lucienne did not miss the flex of his fingers.

“I’m sorry, sir, but I checked very thoroughly and there is no record of Y/n L/n in The Dreaming. The only information I could find was that she is an only child, and her parents died when she was a mere babe.”

Dream rose to his feet, his long black coat following him down the steps until he reached Lucienne.

“How is that possible, Lucienne? Every mortal dreams. We have records of every single human.”

The weight of Dream’s words pressed down on the librarian and she winced. “I know, my Lord. However, Y/n simply does not exist within The Dreaming.”

Dream stared at Lucienne’s earnest expression and let out a small hum. It seemed that Death’s chosen human would be more interesting than Dream thought.

Lucienne cleared her throat and Dream’s eyes shifted to her, attentive. “Perhaps, my Lord…” Lucienne chose her words carefully, “Y/n may not be completely human.”

Dream lightly exhaled through his nose, releasing the tension that had gathered between his shoulder blades. He let himself breathe in the scent of The Dreaming, knowing it cleared his mind/

“A God?” Morpheus questioned, mused.

Lucienne shook her head. “Not quite, sir. I checked the Book of Gods, and did not find her in it.”

Dream walked back to the steps, sitting down. His coat spread out around him dramatically and he rested an arm on his knee, rubbing the skin under his chin.

“If not a God…”

“I am not sure, my Lord. But as you said, mortals dream, yet Y/n does not. She is an enigma.”

“Yes, Lucienne.” Dream thought back to the woman with a profound interest in living. “She is.”

“What will you do, my Lord?” Lucienne tried to keep her curiosity to herself, but she wished to know what her Lord would do. Y/n L/n was unknown to The Dreaming, and therefore, a possible threat.

“Nothing,” Dream answered. “I am not to worry myself with her, Lucienne. I will meet her in a hundred years time, and have my questions answered then.”

Holding her tongue, Lucienne nodded and bowed.

“As you wish, sir.”

As Lucienne walked back to her library, Dream ran his thumb over his lips. There was something about Y/n that irked Morpheus. He was unsure whether it had to do with her overwhelming love for life, or because he did not know her.

“Jessamy,” Dream whispered.

As a master calls upon a servant, a black and white raven landed before Morpheus. The raven bowed at her master, waiting for instructions.

“The mortal, Y/n. I need you to keep an eye on her. You must tell me if she has any relationships with any Gods, or…” Dream paused, “my siblings.”

Jessamy, ever the faithful servant, bowed her head and flew off.

Morpheus stood and dusted off his coat. He would not think about Y/n anymore. He was an Endless, he had a job to do. Responsibilities to adhere to.

Transporting out of his palace and into Fiddler’s Green, Dream clasped his hands behind his back and began walking. He would travel through The Dreaming, visiting each resident and balancing dreams and nightmares, imagination and reality.

As a kingdom does for its King, grass parts for Morpheus and trees loom over him, protective of their King.

100 Years Later…

Y/n brushed her fingers through her hair, tucking the loose pieces behind her ear. She smoothed out her dress and sat down, pressing her back against the large tree. Although she brought a book to read, the tied pages lay untouched next to her.

A hundred years had passed since Y/n had met that strange man and made an unspoken deal with him. She thought about the man often. His eyes, voice, and most of all, the presence he carried.

Y/n breathed in the fresh air. Her eyes danced across the field, filled with children and their families. A wave of loss washed over Y/n. The man she had loved had died long ago, and her children had grown old.

“I see you are well, Y/n.”

A raspy, lowly pitched voice invades Y/n’s mind, vibrating against her skull. Blinking, she looked up at the figure standing to the left of her.

Y/n’s eyes took in the being clad in black robes. In the sun, Y/n got her first proper look at Dream. His dark raven hair was shorter than she remembered, his eyes held indifference, and his skin looked bone-white. His face was sculpted to perfection, straight nose, sharp jaw, and soft pink lips.

He was beautiful.

“I am, yes.” Y/n smiled at him. “You really did find me.”

“Had you any doubt?” Morpheus asked, curious.

“No,” Y/n answered. “I hope it was not easy, though.”

“Why? Is this a game?” Morpheus’s head tilted to the right slightly.

“Is it not?”

Straightening his form, Dream motioned toward the park. “Will you accompany me on a walk?”

Y/n did not know this man—being—but his voice, soft and raspy, was not asking a question. It was a hidden command, and Y/n was to obey.

Y/n answered by extending her hand to Morpheus, an invitation to appease her curiosity about him. After living longer than anyone she knew, Y/n cared less about etiquette and more about enjoying and loving her life.

Dream’s eyes narrowed at her outstretched hand but his expression remained stoic. With a gentleman’s grace, Morpheus stepped towards Y/n and slipped his curved hand under hers, his thumb resting on her fingers.

Y/n tightened her hold on Morpheus’s hand as he pulled her up. Their hands, locked and pressed together, resembled a sign Y/n had seen once in a book.

Yin and Yang.

Standing, Y/n and Morpheus stood close, their hands no longer connected. Y/n held her breath as she saw a glimpse of stars in his blue eyes, and Morpheus stood still as he recalled Death’s words: “she is yours.”

Morpheus stepped back, turned, and began walking. Y/n let out a breath before running after him. Standing close to him felt uncomfortable, like he knew the secrets kept hidden deep within.

Walking side by side yet with considerable farness, Y/n and Morpheus walked through the forest clearing. Y/n cleared her throat and Dream looked at her from the corner of his eyes.

“Will you ask me?”

Morpheus looked straight ahead. “How has life been for you, Y/n? Do you still love it?”

Y/n laughed, surprising Morpheus. “Life has been hard. My husband, family, and friends have died. Many from famine and the plague. Do you know how hard it is to explain why you are not aging? I think I may have caused mental anguish to some.”

Dream listened attentively. Her words held painful stories, and yet her tone was light, happy. Before making his presence known, Dream had watched Y/n for a moment. She looked content, uncomfortably so.

“Do you wish to die?”

With furrowed eyebrows and a smile, Y/n looked at Dream like he had asked an absurd question.

“Wish to die? Absolutely not, my goodness. The pain of loss dulls over the years, but I love my life. The feeling of falling in love is so enamouring, I wish to feel it again, and again.”

Dream stopped walking, turning towards the strange woman with the same passive expression.

“You love your life?”

“Yes.”

Morpheus nodded, once. “I see.” His tone remained soft, yet rumbling. “I shall meet you in one hundred years, Y/n.”

Before he could slip away from her, Y/n took a step toward him on instinct. Dark blue eyes glanced at her feet before flickering to her face.

“Can I ask you a question?”

Dream considered her words for a moment, before nodding. “If I may ask you one.”

Y/n shrugged, nodding. “What can I call you?”

Morpheus stared into Y/n’s eyes, looking for any ulterior motives. Names were powerful, and Morpheus had many.

Morpheus parted his lips, and changed his mind.

“You may call me Oneiros.”

Y/n tilted her head, her eyes wide with curiosity as she let his words sink in. “Oneiros”, she repeated slowly.

The sound of his name, old, unused, awakened something in Morpheus. He had chosen to give Y/n that name because it existed before her time.

“What does it mean?”

“You have asked your question.”

Y/n’s face dropped before she laughed. “Yes, I suppose I have. What is your question, Oneiros?”

“Do you dream, Y/n?”

For the first time since Morpheus learned about Y/n, she tensed and her lips twitched downward.

“Pardon me?”

Morpheus took a step closer to Y/n, tilting his head to match eye-levels.

“Do you dream, Y/n?” Morpheus’s voice was soft, but his question—and it was a question—felt taunting.

Y/n considered lying, but when Morpheus’s blue eyes caught hers, she knew that lying would be unorthodox. Such eyes, as ancient as they were, would see through her.

“No,” Y/n answered. Surprising herself, and The Dream Lord. “I do not dream when I sleep.”

Oneiros stepped closer to Y/n, until they breathed the same air.

“Why?”

For the first time since Y/n had met Morpheus, she heard the slightest hint of curiosity.

Stretching her lips into an uneasy smile, Y/n took a step back. Needing to breathe her own air.

“You have asked your question, Oneiros.”

Dream blinked, slowly. His lips twitched upwards.

“Yes. I suppose I have.”

Without a word, he slipped back into the shadows. Hidden from mortal view, Morpheus watched as Y/n stared at her hands before clenching them into fists.

When she turned and began walking, Morpheus slipped into The Dreaming.

200 Years Later…

“Are you on your way to visit the mortal, sir?”

Morpheus nodded at Lucienne. He stood on his palace balcony, taking in the sight of The Dreaming. His affection for his realm was beyond words, and his tenderness towards his creations often rendered him speechless.

“I have been checking the library for any new information on her, but nothing new has appeared.”

Morpheus turned his back to The Dreaming and stood upright as Lucienne spoke.

“Y/n told me she does not dream. She seemed… upset about the fact.”

Lucienne raised an eyebrow. “Did she?”

“Yes. That was all I asked.”

Hiding her frustration, Lucienne smiled. “Right. Well, perhaps you shall find out more today.”

Morpheus slipped into the Waking World. When his eyes opened, Morpheus stood in what he assumed was a library.

Scanning the old, abandoned library, Dream’s eyes landed on Y/n. She sat on her knees, facing an elderly man. The man’s hair was white and his eyes had grown old. Morpheus recognized the man.

Adam Khan.

Using the shadows to get close, Morpheus decided he would remain hidden until Y/n was alone.

“I do not understand,” Y/n said, quietly. “You have many children, why me?”

Adam Khan smiled, and the room brightened. He laid his brown wrinkled hand on top of Y/n’s.

“Because, my dear, you are my child as well. You love these books, this space, more than any of my other children. I will die, but you will not. Let my love for knowledge live through you.”

Dark eyes watched Y/n’s lips tremble. Her emotions were written over her face, empathy had never been painted clearer.

“Thank you, Khan. I will love and protect this library for as long as I live.”

Adam Khan laughed, standing. “I imagine that to be a long time.” He tipped his head and walked away, leaving Y/n alone.

“You can show yourself, Oneiros.”

Morpheus stepped out of the shadows, arms hanging beside him. “How did you know?”

Y/n pushed herself up, standing. She turned to look at him briefly before smoothing out her gown and walking down an aisle. Morpheus followed her, silently.

“The air chilled, and I felt your eyes on me.”

Morpheus hummed. His fingers skimmed the books on either side of him, thinking of Lucienne and her library.

Y/n tried to keep a stable pace as she walked. Dream’s presence behind her had her body on edge, like she needed to outrun a nightmare.

Reaching the end of the aisle, Y/n motioned at the seat facing hers. “Can I get you anything?” After a pause, she tilted her head to the side, eyes calculating. “Do you eat? Human food, I mean.”

Morpheus sat down, smoothing out his coat. “No,” he answered her first question. “And, yes.”

Y/n nodded, realizing that was the second thing she knew about him. “Are you human?” Intrigue coated her voice.

Morpheus took a moment to contemplate his answer. “Would you like to play a game?”

Y/n smiled, leaning forward. “I love games.”

“I will answer two questions, if you answer two of mine.” Morpheus decided to withhold any rules. Why set them if they are not needed.

Y/n kept her calculating eyes on Morpheus. She leaned away from him and crossed her legs.

“What could a being like you want to know about me?”

Morpheus lifted his chin to meet her gaze. “Quite a bit, actually.”

Y/n’s head dipped as she tried to hide her fleeting smile. “Fascinating.” She looked up, meeting Morpheus’s penetrating stare. “What are you?”

Dream’s expression remained impassive. “Have you any guesses?” His voice was honey, soft yet raspy, like a summer storm.

Y/n tilted her head and bit her bottom lip. She had her theories, but Dream’s stare made her feel exposed, hesitant. “You cannot be human. And defining you as a God… feels inadequate.”

Morpheus’s head tipped to the side, his blue eyes studying Y/n in a way a sculptor studies his muse. “I am not a God. I am more. Endless.” His tongue caressing the syllables of the last word as one would a sonnet, or the name of a lover.

“That is not an answer.”

For the very first time since meeting Oneiros, Y/n felt the slightest inkling of fear. Two hundred years ago, Y/n guessed she may have made a deal with the Devil, but she realized that the Devil was a subsidiary among beings like Oneiros, more than a God.

“That is my answer.”

Y/n smiled, uneasily. “Very well. My second question is,” Y/n spared a glance at the wide window, “why does your raven, Jessamy, follow me wherever I go?”

Y/n watched his expression very carefully, looking for any signs of surprise. Morpheus remained still, his eyebrows furrowed and his stare bold, but not withering. Y/n watched hesitancy dance on his lips and awaited his answer.

“To watch you.”

A disbelieving laugh escaped Y/n and she slapped her hand over her mouth. Dream’s eyes narrowed, slightly.

“I know that much, Oneiros. But why?”

Morpheus’s eyes twinkled. “You have asked your questions.”

Y/n looked at him, bewildered. “You barely answered them. You are not a conversationalist, are you?”

Ignoring her words, Morpheus leaned forward in his seat. “Why do you not dream?”

Gone was Y/n’s teasing smile. Her lips fell into a frown and she threaded her fingers together, leaning back into her seat, seeking comfort. “I do not know. My slumber has always been dreamless.”

“That is not possible. You are human. Human’s dream.” Morpheus’s voice was gentle, flowing with thinned curiosity. “Do you lie?”

“Is that your second question?”

Morpheus’s lips curve upwards. He had forgotten what a good conversation felt like. “No.” Dream wanted to ask more about who she is, what she is, but at the last second, he changed his mind. “How has your life been this last century?”

Y/n failed to hide her surprise. She was sure he was going to ask something else, but she accepted the change of conversation.

“With honesty?”

Morpheus nodded, once. “I invite honesty. You shall do well to remember it.”

“The last sixty years have been hard. I was called a witch and taken as a slave for a very ruthless man. I escaped, along with Adam Khan’s children. My time as a captor was filled with hardship. Hunger is a feeling I wish upon no man.”

Morpheus leaned back, his hands folded. “Do you wish for death?”

Y/n laughed, and Morpheus’s eyes remained on her.

“Not in the slightest. I had a few hard years, but that does not mean I do not love my life. I escaped, made friends, learned a great deal about humanity and the power of knowledge.” Y/n turned her head to look at the old, withering building. “I have been given this learning center. I have so much to live for.”

Morpheus looked away from Y/n. Her passion and empathy prickled his skin until he had to look away. A small, hidden part of Morpheus was glad she had not asked for Death. He found her company interesting.

A universe studying the atoms it is made of.

Morpheus stood, tipping his head. “Until next time, Y/n.”

“In a hundred years time, Dream.”

Morpheus’s head lifted and his burning gaze fell on Y/n’s smiling face. “Greek is a very beautiful language, agreed?”

Morpheus closed his eyes and slipped back into The Dreaming, a small smile on his face.

That night, in over two hundred years, Y/n dreamed for the first time.

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