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withoutyouimsaskia · 2 months

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Sometimes It's Fated (Sandman Short Story Part 2)

Part 1 | Part 3 | Part 4

GIF: Originally posted by @harleytudinous

Pairing: Morpheus/Dream of the Endless x AFAB reader

Summary: Reader Self-Insert. 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. (Title inspired by Placebo's "This Picture".)

Warnings: Minors DNI. Dark!Morpheus. Soulmates. Angst. Obsessive and possessive behaviour. Tension. Threat. Dream manipulation. Masturbation. Voyeurism. Plot related cigarette use. Dubious consent.

Word Count: 2.5k

A/N: So I know I initially billed this as a two shot but the story has run away with me in the most lovely way. Part 3 will be coming soon. Thank you for all your kind responses to part 1, it honestly means so much to me. Hope you enjoy this one too. All my love, Saskia xx

Sandman Masterlist

---------------------------------------------

The veil of sleep comes down upon your weary body with a feather-light touch, trying to coax your mind back into the world of dreams.

Dreamscapes have been a whole new experience for you in the past month of your life. Before, you would wake with no recollection of what had played out. Not even the slightest inkling. Now, you remember everything.

They are staggering; bursting with details and ideas beyond your most outlandish daytime imaginings. The emotions that are conjured by them, both when asleep and also awake are just as bold.

And even though it's been 23 nights since it started you are still finding them predominantly jarring and disorientating. You are baffled by how other people cope with the sheer vividness. The unpredictability. Maybe they have become desensitised. You can only hope that the same will happen for you in time.

One thing you tell yourself with each sunrise:

Thank goodness they weren't nightmares.

At least, you don't think they are. There's no resemblance between yours and what you have heard others describe over the years, nor to those outlined in a dream decoding book you had checked out of the library last week. There's no obvious threat or fear. No re-living of traumatic events. Just weird subtext.

The first dream found you standing barefoot on a beach. A mirage distorted the particulars of the scene making it impossible to see further than half a meter in front of you. The temperature of the sand under your soles was verging on painful and as such, it forced you to walk into the unknown before you.

A groaning wind started to brew and lifted the sand into sparkling flurries. You shielded your eyes from the abrasive particles.

The sun was at its apex when you heard the ear splitting bangs. Unmistakably gun shots; you didn't last much longer in the dream and woke with a start.

For the next week, your dreams had been like a series of video clips edited into a supercut.

Raven wings. Black cats. Hellfire. Ruby red glow. Sprawling library shelves. Landscapes hewn by earthquake fissures. Hotel corridors. A handsome, blond haired man wearing sunglasses, holding a blood covered knife.

If you didn't know any better, you would begin to suspect that your new box of tea bags had been laced with a psychedelic. Alas, no. Your hypothesis was unequivocally disproved when you friends had been completely unaffected after stopping by for a Sunday afternoon catch up.

This quick fire of snapshots eventually stopped, transforming into lucid long form dreams. You often think back to the first one where it happened.

Standing in the the empty room, and the appearance of the figure dressed in black. The colour that had flashed in their midnight eyes had the quality of liquid silver. Sometimes you wonder if you see the same image in other dreams, standing in amongst a crowd.

From that point on, regardless of what dream you are in, you cannot shake the intuitive prickle down your spine that tells you someone is watching you.

You reason that it is nothing to be concerned about. Humans dream, and you cannot deny that some of them - swimming in a sea of clouds, re-visiting childhood haunts, trying out superpowers - have been quite fun.

You roll over on to your left side and close your eyes.

You dream.

The room you see is expansive in breadth and depth. Impressive windows bring brilliant light into the space which bounces off the ivory stone of the floors and walls. There are statues positioned at equidistant intervals, implying that the chamber is a gallery of sorts.

One effigy, fashioned from bronze, and rich in colour draws your attention. The lines and curves of its form intrigue you, despite not knowing the creature it was portraying.

You are about to move on when the feeling of being watched sparks through your skeleton.

Everything changes.

Clarity gives way to haze. Sun is swapped for moon.

You see a man across the room. He stands with a perfect posture. Graceful, powerful. His elbows are bent, fingers interlaced, palms facing upwards. Sheer black fabric floats around his frame. It moves languidly, giving glimpses of his bare body beneath.

The man's face is imperceptible. The distance between you too great but somehow you know you are the focus of his attention.

His robes fall to the floor with a gossamer sigh. The pale, unmarked skin of his slight form glows beautifully in the moonlight. You look down in embarrassment as arousal flushes through you, and you see that you are suddenly as naked as he is.

You gasp, and snap your gaze back up.

The sight you see is rather unexpected. The man is intimately touching himself.

You feel compelled to mirror him. You immediately reach between your legs. The man groans as you make contact.

All it takes is a little bit of attention on your clit before you are ready to slide two fingers into your core. The noise you make at the feeling of the stretch is salacious. The man echoes you with a sound that is just as dirty.

It spurs you on and you burrow deeper.

You curl your fingers until your legs are weak and quivering. You long to sink to your knees so you can finish in a more comfortable position yet you can't. An invisible force is preventing you.

It keeps you on display.

Just like the statues to your left.

You wonder if it is for the man's benefit.

You try to focus on him but it is impossible to do so through the trembling glaze over your eyes. All you are able to sense from him now is the sound of the rhythmic pump of his palm around his cock and his panting breaths.

Desperate whines escape your lips. You are teetering on the edge of an orgasm but you can't seem to lose your balance and fall into the abyss. The unsteadiness in your legs is too much of a distraction. You rub at your clit again in the hope that it will bring the satisfaction you need.

It does nothing.

You are so frustrated by your body's disobedience that it is almost painful.

"Please. Please. Please," you mutter under your breath.

A voice suddenly speaks next to you ear. A velvet voice with the timbre of a thunder rumble. It pours like a soothing syrup into your brain and commands you to do exactly as it bids.

"Let go."

You climax intensely, crying out in relief, squirting all over your fingers and onto your hand as you legs finally give way.

The fall jolts you back into consciousness and you wake with a barely contained scream of pleasure in your throat and adrenaline lighting up your nervous system.

Daylight is peeking through a little gap in the curtains. You take a deep, grounding breath.

That was obscene.

The context, the actions, the sounds. That sultry voice at the end. From the throbbing in your vulva and the twitching of your legs it seems like you didn't just finish in the dream.

There is really no point in looking it up in the dream decoding book.

You were clearly horny on a subconscious level. Or craving attention, hence the exhibitionist behaviour. The latter is not usually in your nature to seek out but if it is the reason, you might not have to wait long before the desire is fulfilled. There is a work event happening this evening that may require you to accept an award and address the crowd.

You love this time of year where community projects get recognition; a nomination alone is a sure-fire way of garnering publicity which in turn helps the charity's outreach.

But first, a normal day at the office. You throw back the covers and go straight to the bathroom to rinse off the evidence of your wet dream.

---------------------------------------------

Your right hand connects with the metal push plate of the function space's front door. The heels of your boots click and clack as you cross the threshold, moving from floor board to paving slab.

It's fortuitous that you brought a long, thick coat with you this evening for the wind is wintery and unforgiving. You stay close to the wall of the building to try and shelter from it as much as possible.

The pavements are slick with recent precipitation, streetlamps bouncing off of the water with caustic white light.

Then you see him; a figure cut from shadow.

He's breathing in such a laboured way that you wonder if he is sick.

Your phone is still inside the venue, currently being guarded by a colleague along with your bag but it wouldn't take long to retrieve it and call for medical assistance.

"You okay?" Concern colours the simple question.

His reply comes quickly and assertively, "I am well, thank you."

You nod, not entirely convinced for the stranger's response was as stiff as his posture, and reach inside the pocket of your coat for the box of cigarettes and lighter stashed within.

You settle one of the sticks between your lips and use your thumb to bring forth a flame. The crackle of smouldering paper and tobacco perforates the damp air and you take a needy drag. The nicotine taints and tantalises in equal measure, filling you with guilt and relief. You've been trying to give up but the little voice inside your head had won this evening. You close your eyes and focus on the pleasure it brings before flicking some ash into the tray mounted to the wall.

Your attention now back on your surroundings, the stranger steps into the scope of the streetlight. The angles of his cheekbones, jaw and nose are accentuated to an incredible extent in the gleam. His dark hair is being buffeted about the wind, locks of it very close to falling in the blue eyes that are unwaveringly trained on you. He begins to talk again, showcasing his deep baritone.

"I'm afraid I wasn't entirely honest with you just now. It is not how I envisaged our first interaction transpiring. I hope that you can forgive me for my deception."

You laugh nervously and take another quick drag. "It makes no difference if you're honest with me or not. I don't know you."

"You are correct. You don't know me. Not yet -"

"Oh," you cut in quickly. "I'm not looking for a hook up."

While you cannot deny that he is arrestingly beautiful, you are technically working and have never been one for one-night stands.

"You mistake my meaning. I have been searching for you for so long. I oftentimes doubted your existence however I was wrong and I find myself humbled to be in your presence at last."

The grandiose declaration is one of the stranger things you have heard in your life and you used to deal with drunken patrons when you worked at a university bar. Maybe he was intoxicated; it would explain a lot.

"Look, this might work on other people but I just came out here to have a cigarette -"

It is his turn to interrupt you now. "You will have no need of those going forward. Your addiction to them will be replaced by me."

"Excuse me?"

You are trying to sound incredulous, however, inside you are rather frightened by the turn the conversation has taken. His gaze is not helping either.

The crystalline eyes are embodying every part of the descriptor; a hard, chill inducing blue. Ash drops from the smouldering cigarette as a tremble of fear rattles through you. The man sees this and the ice suddenly melts to a warmer hue.

His tone turns soft and gentle. "We are supposed to be together. Our union is fated."

He's staring at you expectantly even after your two attempts at rejection. You swiftly stub out the part-finished cigarette and take ownership in ending the interaction.

"I've had enough of this. I'm going back inside now. If you try and follow me, I will speak to the venue's management. If you are still here when I leave later, I will call the police."

You turn towards the door.

He calls your name. Your full name. Middle name too.

Despite your brain chanting at you to go inside, you can't stop yourself from looking back at him. "H-how do you know my full name?"

The profound rumble of his voice resonates deep in your ears. "I know everything about you, Y/N."

He's right in front of you now. His posture is bordering between desperate and predatory. Like he can't quite decide if he is seeking comfort from you, or if he wants to consume you.

You are fumbling behind you to find the door handle. "Please get away from me," you say hoarsely.

He reaches for your hand.

You jump back and struggle to get out of his grip but his strength is inhumanly strong. His skin of his palm is glacial against yours and yet somehow, the touch makes heat snake up your arm and settle in your chest.

You become aware of an internal feeling that you've always had, like that of chapped lips. Low level but something that constantly nags. Something that existed every minute of your life until the moment he touched you.

You grip his hand and look up at his face in astonishment.

"Good. That's it. Look into my eyes. See what you know is there."

You do as he says, totally stunned by the depths that seem to reside within them. It's as if there are universes suspended inside. Maybe there are. Perhaps you could float among the celestial bodies if you asked him to show you how.

You feel so alive and overstimulated that you welcome the delirious thoughts taking over your mind.

You welcome him.

It's like there is a cord connected between your heart and his that is shortening in length. The intensity scares you.

You obey, feet moving of their own accord and then you are standing before him, just centimetres apart.

"Give into the pull," he urges darkly, sensing your anxiety.

He smiles triumphantly and presses you flush against his body.

His free hand comes up to cup your jaw, fingers brushing the sensitive skin of your neck. More heat sears through you from the additional skin-on-skin contact.

Your peripheral vision closes tighter and tighter with every passing moment. The outside world is gone.

He leans in further and you wonder hazily if he is going to kiss you or break your neck. Both options are equally viable given the behaviour he has exhibited. You keep staring at him regardless.

His irises flash silver as he intones his next sentence. "Y/N, I claim you as my soulmate."

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Taglist: @herfantasyworldd @kpopgirlbtssvt

"Am I your dream girl? You think of me in bed. But you could never hold me. You like me better in your head."

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thoughtsfromlayla · 2 months

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Layla's Masterlist

Hello, I am Lady Layla of the Lagoon and I tell stories to travelers. Come, stay, listen, and read ₊ ˚ ⊹ ⋆

Meet me at the Lagoon under moonlight and good drinks ~

✩₊˚.⋆☾⋆⁺₊✧ Dream/Morpheus (The Sandman)

One Shot Masterlist

☾ Drabbles, thoughts, requests, galore!

26 Ways of Taking You (18+) Total 11.6k words

☾ 26 Worlds, 26 ways of pleasure

Destined Dreams of Love

☾ As no stranger to arranged marriages, your parents excitedly marry you off to the king at his request. He is contradictory, cold yet caring, strict yet liberating, it's all too much! He said he could never love another for reasons you do not understand either, didn't he just meet you? Perhaps in time, you can learn to love him, too.

My inbox is always open but I'm currently not taking any requests!

You may now also find me on Ao3 (It's all the same works)

It's so nice to meet you all

♡ Forever yours, Layla

#masterlist #dream of the endless #morpheus #morpheus x reader #the sandman #the sandman x reader #dream x reader #the sandman fanfic #lord morpheus #morpheus smut #morpheus x reader smut #dream the endless #dream #dream of the endless smut #the sandman netflix #i write a lot of angst #dream of the endless x reader

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seiya-starsniper · 1 year

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❛ it would have been better to die. ❜

WHOO BOY HERE WE GO KRIS, have some midnight angst cw: mentions of torture, blood mention

--------------------------------------- Dream cradles Hob’s broken body in his arms. It is his fault this has happened. The spell Roderick Burgess performed had been meant to capture an Endless, had meant to capture Death, or even Dream himself, but instead, the trap took hold of his oldest friend.

His friend. How foolish it is now, to realize he cares so much for Hob Gadling, while the man bleeds out on the Burgess’s basement floor.

He could have prevented this, Dream thinks. He could have stopped this as it happened, if only he’d thought to pay attention.

But Dream’s arrogance has cost him once more. After their fight in 1889, Dream had withheld himself from Hob’s dreams, had not even bothered to check to see that the immortal still visited his realm night to night. Which of course, he hadn’t after his capture in 1916. But Dream had washed himself of Hob by then, had resolved he would not address the matter on their next meeting, that a hundred years of silence would be enough to relieve Hob of his foolish notion to consider them friends.

And then, Hob did not appear in 1989.

Dream had thought himself stood up. He raged once returned to his realm from the Waking World, feeling every bit the fool for waiting. The Dreaming was clouded with storms and fire for days after, and not even Lucienne would try to go near him in the throne room.

It was only when, in his anger, Dream sent a nightmare to haunt Hob’s dreams that he realized something was amiss.

The nightmare had returned, shaking and terrified, and reported it had been unable to perform its function. Because Hob Gadling had not been seen in the realm in almost 70 years.

Dream had set out to find Hob then. Had hired the services of one Johanna Constantine, who like her ancestors before her, performed her job brilliantly and had triangulated Hob’s location within days.

“I don’t like this,” Johanna had said as they descended the stairs of the Burgess estate together. “Something’s not right. Something smells wrong here.”

She was right.

Roderick Burgess and his followers had all desired one thing: immortality. And what better way to gain immortality, they thought, with their stupid, simple human minds, than to cut it out of another immortal?

Dream glances at the unconscious bodies of the Order of Ancient Mysteries, and resolves to curse them with all manner of nightmare, waking and dreaming. They will never know peace for the rest of their pathetic short lives.

But then Hob is gasping in his arms, finally conscious, and Dream shoves all thoughts of revenge to the back of his mind as he tries to stall the bleeding.

“You are safe now, Hob Gadling,” Dream murmurs, trying to be as quiet and gentle as possible. “Your captors have been punished for their hubris,” he promises.

Hob coughs, and blood gurgles from his mouth. Dream wipes it with his sleeve, willing the fluid to disappear as quickly as it appeared. He inhales as deeply as his lungs finally regain their function, and it is only then that he truly sees Dream.

“It would have been better to die,” Hob rasps, his vocal chords hoarse from disuse, “than live as I did, chained down here for so long.”

Dream stutters and despite himself, his whole body begins to shake. He cannot believe what he is hearing. Hob has not once wished for his sister’s gift in all the centuries they have met with one another, had not even given the slightest inclination that he had grown weary of living. Even at his lowest point in 1689, destitute and with no prospects, Hob’s expression had shone with endless hope and vitality for life.

Now there is no hope left in Hob’s eyes.

Could Dream let him go like this? When he had just realized how much Hob means to him? How much he loves him? Was there nothing he could do to convince Hob to continue, despite the unforgivable atrocities committed against his person?

But that has never been Dream’s choice to make.

“So do you no longer wish to live?” Dream asks, voice steady, even as his heart is breaking.

Hob stares up at Dream, eyes resolute, and opens his mouth to speak.

Angst Prompts

#dreamling #dream x hob #hob x morpheus #sandman fanfic #seiya writes #seiya drabbles #whew lord there is something in the air tonight because the fandom is full of ANGST #angst prompts #these are exciting keep them coming #I have at least one more sitting in my inbox I'm excited to get to #seiya writes dreamling

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thebatshitcrazyfangirl · 10 months

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Sleep Of The Corrupt- Morpheus x Goddess!Reader

Hello all! Sorry for not posting in a while, I had some health issues and struggled to get back into my writing schedule. But I am back now!

Summary: “Sleep Of The Just” AU. While searching for your daughter, Elaina, you’re summoned and imprisoned by Roderick Burgess. Mistaking you for Death, he demands the resurrection of his son and other unworthy gifts. Instead of fulfilling his demands, you make him realize his horrific mistake.

TW: None really. Cosmic horror (heavily inspired by H. P. Lovecraft). Some fluff, some angst.

WC: 8.4k (Oof…)

Divider by: @firefly-graphics

“Ellie!” You shouted down the palace corridors and in every room, frantically scouring from top to bottom for your little girl- only to come up empty.

This wasn’t like her. Your daughter never ventured beyond Fiddler’s Green and the House of Secrets. No matter where she wandered, Elaina was always under the trusted supervision of dreams, while you and Morpheus tended to your realms and responsibilities.

An irritated huff heaved from your lips as you strode down another corridor. This stressful game of hide and seek was beyond exhausting. Alas, you and Morpheus have no choice but to play.

The abrupt sound of a slamming door clapped through the air like thunder, ascending into the rapid approach of Morpheus’s footsteps.

“Any sign of her?”

He shook his head. “None. The dreams and nightmares have found no sign. Even Jessamy has had little luck.”

“We’ve been searching for hours. How have we not found her?” You huffed in distress, wringing your hands as your thoughts spun in overwhelming worry.

If she was nowhere to be found, then wouldn’t that mean- No. Elaina couldn’t leave The Dreaming on her own… Not unless-

Your heart sank, crumbling into lifeless dust at the horrific possibility. Stressful tears glazed your eyes, lighting your nerves ablaze in a dreadful panic.

“Love, we’ll find her.” Hands warmer than sunshine caressed your shoulders in soothing circles. He pulled you into his chest, wrapping his arms around you in a comforting embrace. Effective as always, your body slowly relaxed in his arms; against all maternal intuition blaring like an alarm, begging you to search for your daughter. “It’s likely she just wandered off farther than usual.”

“Beyond a dream’s reach?” You muttered dejectedly into his coat. “What if she’s not even here?”

“That shouldn’t be possible unless she had an escort. Besides, where would she go if she had the chance?”

Your eyes grew wide. There was a realm Elaina was highly affiliated with, one she loved to visit every chance she could.

Your birthplace. The Waking World.

“How did we forget?” You grumbled, suddenly pulling yourself from the embrace.

“Forget what?”

Unlike Morpheus and his siblings, your divinity was gifted to you nearly two decades ago, after the former Goddess of Chaos passed her crown and abilities down to you. The succession ultimately stripped you of most of your mortal life; all except your loving parents.

“If she could go anywhere, would it not be The Waking World? To my parents?” You asserted, turning down the corridor in bolting strides.

You both knew how much your parents adored Elaina. Since the day she was born, they were instantly wrapped around her little finger. They spoiled her rotten and treated her like a princess, showering her with new toys and pretty dresses every chance they could.

There was rarely a weekend or holiday where they didn’t invite you and your family over for dinner, or offer to keep Elaina for sleepovers and day trips. (Perhaps to give you and Morpheus some ‘alone time’; hopefully resulting in more grandchildren, you theorized.)

“It’s a valid theory, but an unlikely one,” Morpheus argued as he caught up to your hurried pace. “My dreams are always watching over her. They would’ve noticed her leaving with an escort.”

“Maybe, maybe not. It’s still a possibility, and far more favorable than others.” You paused your pace and spun to face him; already expecting the heavy skepticism gracing his features.

“One hour. Allow me one hour to search my old home, while you continue the search here. Please,” you negotiated and pleaded with a desperate look in your glistening eyes. “For the sake of my sanity. Before we consider the very worst.”

Morpheus sighed in thought, considering every outcome of your plan.

As much as he loves and adores you, you were still the embodiment of Chaos. He couldn’t deny the potential havoc your mere presence could wreak on The Waking World. Even with your totems, which stabilize and hinder Chaos’s effects, it was still risky. Especially during a world war.

However, if you remained true to your word and wore your crown and pendant, an hour in The Waking World would hardly cause any impact.

“One hour, and not a moment more.”

You smiled in victory, launching yourself to the tips of your toes, and pressed a kiss to his lips.

“I won’t be long.” You promised, before disappearing in a whirlwind of black fire.

You stood before your parents’ home, dark and eerily quiet; not a soul to be found.

Must be out at the tavern, or visiting a friend, you reckoned. An irritable groan rumbled in the back of your throat as you strode down the road with tears brimming in your eyes.

Every hope you had crumbled into dust. Your worst fear has come to fruition. Your little girl was missing; only protected by the Fates’ mercy, wandering whatever realm in careless adventure.

What if she’s hurt? What if I’m too late? What if-

Breathe.

You halted your feverish pace; standing in the gentle trajectory of a cool breeze. It whipped through the sleek satin of your crimson gown in flowing waves, effectively cooling you down.

It was oddly refreshing; recollective in a way. Your thoughts slowly simmered down into a hushed calm, refined to focus on your next move.

“Ellie!” A child’s voice echoed in the distance.

Your vitals halted, skipping several beats as your eyes bulged out of your skull. It couldn’t be, could it-

Your feet moved on their own, taking off into a violent sprint through poorly lit alleyways and side streets.

With every step, the distant, delighted giggles grew louder and clearer, filling the crisp air and echoing into the inky night. You rounded every corner frantically, chasing after the laughter like your life depended on it. Please be her, you prayed. Please be her…

The series of small streets led you straight to the laughing culprits- two young girls swinging on a swing set in a park. Of tangled midnight and sunshine tresses you could instantly pick out of a lineup.

You could finally breathe, praising all the stars in the sky that your daughter was safe. You should’ve known Shivering Jemmy was watching over her, upholding her role as Elaina’s self-sworn protector. The little Lord of Chaos has never left her side since she was born, destined to be her partner in crime from the very beginning.

“Where did you find this place? It’s amazing!” Jemmy exclaimed, thrusting her legs forward to swing higher.

“My grandma brought me here when I stayed over last week,” Elaina said, kicking a rock with her filthy slipper from under her lavender nightgown, thickly caked in mud and grass.

The little vein on your forehead was about to pop. You and that nightgown are getting scrubbed with a brush when we return home…

As quietly as you could, you approached the girls and leaned against the swing set’s A-frame with your arms crossed.

“A bit far from home, are we now?” You said suddenly.

The girls nearly jumped out of their seats. Jemmy dragged her bare feet against the gravel, sputtering to a halt. As white as phantoms, they slowly turned to face your impending wrath.

“H-hi, Mommy…” Elaina greeted in uncertainty with large (E/C) glossed over in a silent plea as her lower lip jutted out in a quivering pout.

“H-hello, Your Grace…” Jemmy muttered quietly with a bowed head.

“Are the play gyms at home no longer to your liking?” You asked with a stern edge to your tone.

“N-no, no, it’s not that!” Your daughter exclaimed, flinching at her loud, impolite tone. A solemn frown fell over her face. “It’s just… I had so much fun when Grandma brought me here, I wanted to show Jemmy. I won’t do it again, I promise! Please don’t be mad, I’m really sorry…”

A small, sad smile twitched on the edges of your lips. You should be angry, you know. You should scold her for disappearing from The Dreaming. You should forbid her from leaving the palace for at least 10 years; solely for the stress and upset her little adventure sparked.

No, you were far too relieved to be angry with her. Jemmy, on the other hand, was a different story…

“I’m not mad.” You shook your head as you settled in the empty swing beside your daughter, swaying back and forth in a gentle rock.

“However, you cannot wander off like this again, Ellie. Not even with Jemmy. Realms like The Waking World are not like The Dreaming, it’s very dangerous to be alone here. That’s why it’s important that someone like me, Daddy, Grandma, or Grandpa are always with you when you’re here. Do you understand?”

Elaina’s dark brows furrowed at your warning. “Why is it dangerous here? Are there monsters?”

Your gaze shifted, falling on the amusement gleaming in Jemmy’s eyes. Oh, if only Elaina knew the irony in her interest…

As products of Chaos, you held the ability to bend Reality itself to create unspeakable horrors and magnificence alike. Powerful in every sense, it struck fear in those who knew the vast scale of your prowess.

Because of this, you’ve been called a monster more times than you could count. Shivering Jemmy even more so. Often by those who were more monstrous than you could ever be, ironically.

“In a way… Most beings are friendly and kind, but some are cruel and monstrous. Some that wish to hurt others…” You said with caution, not wishing to scare her. “That’s why you always need to be careful here. Alright?”

“Okay.” She nodded through a yawn. “Can we go home now?”

“Of course.” You smiled as you stood, holding a hand out to her. “It’s far past your bedtime, sweetheart-”

Here in the darkness…

A chant echoed in the recesses of your mind, growing increasingly louder with every step you took. You froze, suddenly paralyzed by excruciating pain unlike any other. It felt like you were being ripped apart-

Here in the darkness…

You fell to your knees, eyes glistening in fresh tears, choking and gasping for air. What’s happening?

“Mommy! What’s happening? What’s wrong?” Elaina cried, crouching beside you, watching in complete terror as grainy smoke slowly engulfed you.

Here in the darkness…

It took all you could not to scream. The smoke was like a torrential current, pulling you under with unbridled force. You don’t know how much longer you can hold on…

With the last of your strength, your eyes locked with your most trusted Lord of Chaos. “G-get Mor-phe-us!”

You let go- suffocated in unfeeling darkness.

Here in the darkness…

“I give you a coin made from a stone.”

‘What is this place…?’ You stirred in the void.

Here in the darkness…

“I give you a knife from under the hills, and I give you the blood from out of my vein…”

‘Ugh…’ The void lightens in a crimson hue.

Here in the darkness!

“I give you a song I stole from the dirt, and I give you a feather pulled from an angel’s wing for you to lift up into the heavens…”

Slowly, you ascended from the depths, towards a growing light.

Here in the darkness!

“I summon you with poison!”

You choke; your floating body contorting in unbearable pain.

HeRe In ThE dArKnEsS!

“I summon you with pain!”

‘Yes. Very much in pain…’ You screamed silently into the void, thrashing against its soul-crushing depths.

HeRe In ThE dArKnEsS!

“I open the way, I open the gates…”

‘Let me out!’ The light grows brighter, blinding and burning…

HERE IN THE DARKNESS!

“I summon you in the names of the old lords. Namtar, Allatu, Morax… Maborym calls you. Horvendile calls you. We summon you together. Come!”

Cold and hard as Reality’s forge, you fall from your otherworldly prison onto stone tiles with a sickening thud. Your ruby crown slipped from its place atop your head, and your matching ornate pendant smacked harshly against your jaw and clattered into your tresses from the brutal impact.

A pained hiss huffed against the stone faster than you could stop it- a sharp ache erupted on the side of your skull in strong, harrowing waves. Faintly, you could feel blood seep in thick rivers from the fracture’s wound, tangling your disheveled strands and staining the tiles below.

You winced at every sharp shift of jagged bone mending back in place; slowly subsiding into a dull throb beating in sync with your pounding heart.

Had you retained your mortality, you would be lucky to be alive, or hindered with severe mental impairments. It was a wonder you were still conscious, even with your godliness rushing to your aid.

The room erupted in hushed whispers and startled gasps. You peeked under the strands of hair slipping over your face. Archaic summoning, based on the binding circle and sigils used. Black robes and hoods? Occult perhaps? Cold stone floor and no windows that you could see. A cellar?

“Alex?” The caster’s voice called out. You slammed your eyes shut as a shadow loomed over you. “Alex!”

You cracked an eye open, as small, timid footsteps slowly approached beside the caster. His face was hard to see, but from their stature, they were young. Perhaps five years older than Elaina, if you were to guess.

“Get that crown for me,” the man barked. “But be careful. Don’t break the binding circle.”

Heedful hands reached forward and gently untangled the woven strands around the crown’s ornate frame.

“Hurry, boy!” The boy gasped in panic, ripping the last few strands free with a sudden tug, and handed it to the man.

“Hmm. Gold and rubies.” The caster inspected it before handing it off to one of his disciples.

You repressed the urge to smirk. They must not know who you are, or the true purpose your jewels served…

“Now the jewel. There.” The man pointed to the dazzling gem around your neck. The child reached forward and snatched the ruby. “Good.”

Fools, you nearly broke your façade.

“Well, let’s see what other treasures you have for us.” The caster said with beaming eyes, as he reached forward and grabbed the neckline notch of your fiery bell sleeve.

“What barbarity…” Your amusement loomed through the air with the cold, harsh sting of venom. The grip on your sleeve was abruptly released with shaken gasps and scuffling footsteps. You couldn’t help but laugh, rolling over with a triumphant grin aimed at your captor. “Disrobing a vulnerable woman? What a disgrace you must be to your lover and mother.”

The man smirked, an unspoken equal to your taunting quips. “Awake, are we?”

You nodded, shifting to your knees under your crimson skirt. “I’ve been. Your spell work is impressive, however, flawed.”

His smirk fell with disdain, rousing your own. “Though, I suppose it performed as intended… Somewhat.” You rose to your feet, radiating the very essence of power- of a true goddess. “So, what do you want?”

“I captured you under the laws of magic. Therefore, I command you, Death, to return my son Randall, who died in the Gallipoli Campaign. If you give him back to me, alive and well, I’ll release you from this binding circle. A fair deal, wouldn’t you agree?”

You chewed on the inside of your cheek, suppressing every mocking quip running through your mind.

Oh, this is rich!

“Barbaric and benighted… I’m afraid your demands are impossible to fulfill.” You smiled, enjoying the fallen look plastered on his face. “Death cannot revive the dead. Especially souls long passed on and corpses reduced to dust and bone. Your efforts are fruitless, Summoner.”

It wasn’t a complete lie, nor the entire truth. There were other ways one could revive the dead- albeit at an extravagant cost, often a life for a life, or paired with severe consequences. Something he may have considered, given his talent in magic. Perhaps he refused to get his hands dirty or aimed at cheating the age-old rules of magic.

“Resurrect him,” Your summoner pressed with a dangerous gleam in his eyes. “If you wish to regain your freedom, you’ll answer my command.”

Your jaw clenched in your simmering irritation. “Do we speak in different tongues? Death leads souls to the afterlife, not back. Therefore, your request demands what cannot be done. No matter how untimely, Death makes no mistake. Your son was destined to die that day, and you cannot change that!”

Your summoner reeled back in disbelief, abhorred by your words.

Calm down…You sighed deeply, recollecting yourself from your burst of anger. “Please forgive my harsh words, it was incredibly insensitive of me. You have my condolences, I cannot imagine the pain of losing a child. But death is never the end. When your time comes, you shall be reunited with your child on the other side. That’s the only solace I can provide.”

“So, what can you give me?”

“I beg your pardon?”

“Since you refuse to fulfill my request, I ask this in compromise: If I were to let you go, if I promise to give back your jewels… Power? Wealth? Immortality? Is there anything you can offer me?” The caster asked with a supercilious smirk.

Your lip curled in disgust. He’s demanding ransom for your tools now? Divine rewards for your freedom, for your totems’ theft, for ripping you away from your daughter?

“All I will offer is my word not to curse you and your followers.” You snarled in rising fury. “Release me and return my belongings and I shall forget this encounter ever happened. You’ll live out the rest of your days in peace, so long as you never cross paths with me or the Endless again.”

His eyes hardened at your harsh tone, visibly dissatisfied with your offer.

“Take the deal.” You hissed through gritted teeth. Your totems’ absence was taking its toll. Chaos’s full effect ran rampant in your veins like pure adrenaline, fanning the flames of latent corruption and masked madness, engulfing all semblance of morality and sanity in mayhem’s blaze. “It’s my most generous offer, given the circumstances. Consider yourself fortunate. Had you summoned any other member of my family, they would not be as kind.”

“Well, then. Make yourself at home in your binding circle. Until you are ready to comply, I’ll enjoy the gifts you’ve already given me.”

A cold, dark cackle echoed throughout the room, sending devastating chills down the followers’ spines. Many glanced at the exit, ready to sprint from your sinister presence at the drop of a hat. “You truly believe a chalk drawing will contain me?”

Scarlet lighting pricked along your fingertips and sparked the surrounding air ablaze in midnight cosmic fire. With each flicker, your power spun hazy tapestries of bleeding crimson stars and humming supernovas, emanating a horrific sense of fear your summoner had never experienced.

What fools they were, they realized too late.

This wasn’t Death. The caster realized in horror, unable to look away at the eldritch magic spinning from your fingertips in glowing waves. “W-what a-are you?!”

“Reality’s nightmare, so to speak.” You smiled darkly, watching the flames of Chaos roll from your fingertips in curling wisps. “You should’ve taken the deal, Magician. All this could’ve been prevented…”

With a twist of your wrist, the golden binding circle floated from its stone canvas and twirled around you at waist level. The gold cracked in a ruby-red glow, streaking slowly around the ring in lightning-like divots.

Your summoner stumbled back with eyes wide in disbelief, watching in horror as weeks of preparation fell effortlessly on the verge of destruction.

A devious, taunting smile curved across your lips, savoring the fear in his eyes.

With a flick of your wrist, the binding circle shattered.

“Why is it that when something goes awry in this prison, I’m somehow to blame?” The Corinthian huffed in disinterest, twirling his bloody blade while rocking lazily in his chair. His mud-covered heels propped up on the library table, dragging sludge in crusty streaks across the grain.

Lucienne wrinkled her nose at the mess, glaring daggers into the nightmare’s skull.

“Given your rogue nature and hatred of me, it’s hardly unreasonable to question your potential involvement.” Morpheus nearly growled from across the table.

The search in The Dreaming resulted as you predicted: Elaina was nowhere to be found.

Evidently, the Corinthian’s whereabouts were a bit of a mystery. Morpheus was aware of his murderous escapades in The Waking World; kidnapping, amongst other horrific crimes, was hardly beneath him.

Morpheus gritted his teeth and dug angry crescents into his palms. If possibility became reality, if the Corinthian hurt Elaina in any way, he wouldn’t hesitate to condemn him to fate worthy of his monstrosity. Morpheus already had more than enough reason to destroy his creation, why not make him beg for his demise?

“You really think so ill of me?” He chuckled, tapping the tip of his knife against his smiling lips. “See, if I truly hated you, I would’ve found some way to be rid of you once and for all, and kill that spoiled little brat. As for that powerful beauty you call a wife, I might keep her around for my entertainment… I’m certain she’s a screamer in more ways than one.”

“Do you wish to be unmade? Watch your tongue if you value your existence.” Morpheus hissed through his teeth as his eyes narrowed into dangerous slits.

A mocking laugh fell from the nightmare’s lips. “Is that your favorite threat? You’ve over worn its impact long ago. It’s just another one of your empty threats-”

“Enough!” His voice boomed in a burst of sinister rage, reverberating in powerful, poignant waves. The library shook with an earthquake’s wrath, toppling magnificent chandeliers and infinite bookshelves to the floor into crashing heaps.

“I’m in no mood to play games, Corinthian.” He warned in a dangerous tone. “Did you harm my daughter? Yes or no?”

All amusement fell from the nightmare’s face, slouching in his chair with a huff. “No.”

“Did you abduct Elaina?”

“No, I didn’t take your kid.” He asserted with an aggravated sigh as he lifted his feet off the table. “As much as I hate to rat myself out, I wasn’t in The Dreaming much today. If you don’t believe me, there are eyes all over your domain, right? Ask any of them if they saw me today; especially before your kid disappeared.”

“Where do you claim to be when Lady Elaina disappeared?” Lucienne inquired.

He smacked his lips together in thought. “Out.”

“So, The Waking World then? Indulging your bloodlust, no doubt-”

“My point is, I had nothing to do with Elaina disappearing. It may come as a shock, but the brat is terrified of me. Every time our paths crossed, she’d dart in the other direction. She’d never let me anywhere near her without screaming her head off.”

He chuckled to himself. “How ‘bout that… The King of Nightmares’ kid is easily frightened. Heh. What a treat...”

Silver eyes scanned the nightmare’s demeanor in harsh scrutiny. All taunting remarks had vanished (mostly) and his inflection felt genuine (for once!). Though he was a brilliant liar and skilled manipulator, Morpheus felt inclined to believe him.

And it drained him of all hope.

Perhaps he was too confident in the Corinthian’s involvement; too focused on ending this heartbreaking search.

He just wanted his little girl home; safe and sound.

“Daddy!” A child’s voice screamed at the top of their lungs, as the pitter-patter of tiny feet rumbled through the library.

Morpheus’s sunken heart leaped in his chest- whipping his head around with enough force to snap his neck.

Please be her…

Instant relief washed over him in icy waves; darting across the piles of strewn books and broken glass, with tangled midnight tresses, and speckled from head to toe in a thin layer of grime, was his missing daughter.

“Ellie…”

He fell to his knees with his arms extended wide in welcome, careless of the glass shards cutting through his pants. Tears streamed down the young girl’s face in trembling rivers. She sprinted as fast as she could into his outstretched arms, waiting to engulf her shaking frame in a bone-crushing embrace.

He could finally breathe, as mountains of stress and worry dissipated into thin air.

His hope was restored.

Elaina was home.

“I told ya it wasn’t me…” The Corinthian remarked snidely, shifting back in his seat with blatant disinterest and boredom written on his face.

“‘I’m sorry! I’m s-s-so sorry!” She sobbed in breathless heaves against his shoulder.

“Darling, you’re safe. That’s all that-”

“No!” Elaina cried, ripping herself out of his arms. “There-therewasthisstrangesmoke-and-and-Ididn’tknowwhattodo! Thisisallmyfault! WehavetogosaveMommybeforeithurtsher!”

“Take a deep breath and calm down.” He said in a soothing voice, wiping her streaming tears away with his thumb. “Now, tell me what happened-”

“Ellie!” Another child’s voice called from outside the library. “Where are you?”

Jemmy?

Ragged blonde hair scurried through the entrance. Her wide, mischievous eyes now shimmered in odd distress as they fell on the scene. Without a thought, she sprinted over the scattered mess at a frantic pace and latched a relentless grip on Morpheus’s coat sleeve.

“Come on! Let’s go! Let’s go! We gotta help her!” Jemmy exclaimed, tugging on the sleeve and dragging him towards the door.

Confusion distorted his handsome features. Never had he witnessed these girls behave so distraught and hysterical.

“Girls, tell me what has happened!” He demanded, tugging his arm out of Jemmy’s grasp.

Elaina sniffled. “S-Something took Mommy…”

And just like that, all sense of relief lit furiously ablaze once again.

He froze; stunned and dumbfounded, with wide eyes shining in panic. A deity’s capture was unheard of. Cosmic divinities, such as the Endless and unique gods like you, made virtually impossible prey; even by magical means.

Your captors were either formidable foes or fools graced by dumb luck.

A forced smile curved across his lips; despite his worry and rage crashing over his being in devastating waves. Despite every compelling desire to hunt your captors down like animals and inflict a hell worthy of their actions. (If you hadn’t already). Despite everything, the need to protect you and Elaina took precedence above all else.

“Elaina,” he called out softly. Her tearful (e/c) eyes gleaming with guilt and panic met his own, sending a twinge of pain straight to his heart.

“Don’t believe for a second that you caused this. In no way is this your fault. Dry your tears, darling. I’ll bring her home.” His hand wiped the lazy streams rolling over her cheeks and tucked her dark locks behind her ear.

“Alright.” The Corinthian huffed as he emerged from his seat. “You got what you wanted. The brat’s safe. Can I leave now?”

“You may,” Morpheus grumbled, glaring lethal daggers at the nightmare. “Leave The Dreaming again, and I will uphold my every threat. Remember, my dreams are always watching...”

The Corinthian rolled his eyes beneath his glasses; falling on Elaina with a sinister smirk.

The young girl squeaked in distress and cowered into her father’s chest. Morpheus wrapped a protective arm around her in a makeshift shield, glaring a look of a thousand threats at the nightmare.

An animalistic growl rumbled from The Lord of Chaos like ominous thunder; quick to root herself between her best friend and The Corinthian’s vile gaze like a defensive wall.

“Heh. See you around, kid.” He laughed as he sauntered out of the library.

In slow shifts, Morpheus relaxed; only daring to drop his arms from around the frightened girl when every trace of the nightmare’s presence had vanished.

The theatrics of his departure consumed more time than he’d liked. There was no telling what sort of torture you were enduring; or inflicting. He needed to leave soon. Your safety and Reality’s stability depended on it.

“Darling,” Elaina lifted her head with a frown at his gentle tone. “I want you to stay with Lucienne until I return with your mother. Alright?”

With a sniffle, she nodded; throwing her arms around him in one last hug. “Be careful, Daddy.”

He smiled, planting a kiss on the top of her head. “Always.”

Pain. Infinite agony.

Swallowed whole by the corrupted dark and vast emptiness, Burgess crumbled to his knees under the pressure of dreadful despair and maniacal lunacy. The vast abyss resonated in a tormented cacophony of his followers’ frightful screams and deranged cackles. Some begged for death, while others wreaked in its promise. What horrors could warp their minds to such a degree?

“How does it feel, Summoner?” your voice echoed beyond the distorted cosmos.

Burgess stared into the abyss with panic; all rational sense failing to comprehend this cruel reality.

“Confined in an endless cage of my creation…”

This shouldn’t be possible… This cannot be possible! How did it come to this? He followed the grimoire’s instructions down to the punctuation! How could the ritual mistake the Angel of Death for a Chaos Goddess?

With what little strength remained, he lifted himself to his feet. In his hurried desperation, he stumbled- trampling over his writhing followers, either falling into Death’s welcoming embrace or shoving them to their untimely end.

An extended hand shot out instinctively to catch his fall, colliding with the barrier’s edge. Burgess smiled, reveling in the faint glimmer of hope coldly brushing against his fingertips.

So even reality-manipulating deities have their limits, the man mused. How pitiful.

With the wall as his guide, he lurched into a sprint.

“Is this not the fate you designed for Death?”

Boom…

Colossal footsteps rumbled like a devastating earthquake. His teeth chattered and knees wobbled under its violent intensity, he clung to the invisible wall for dear life.

“Had you been competent enough to catch her?”

Burgess shuddered at the brutal chill in your taunts and ridicule. What had he done to be punished so harshly? He only sought after what any grieving parent dreamt of achieving by any means necessary. Any entity with a shred of decency or compassion would recognize this!

No, he supposed a chaos demoness like yourself could never understand. Your monstrosity was beyond mercy and reason.

“Ignorance is bliss, my foolish summoner…”

Boom…

Intense tremors reverberated in such ungodly strength, Burgess was surprised the vibrations didn’t shatter his bones. He needed to move; he knew. Your footfalls were drawing near, albeit at a sinister snail’s pace. Staying put was suicide, running away guaranteed grave injury in his old age.

As the rumbles died, Burgess bolted. He gritted through the strain ripping at his joints, desperate to get away. If he could somehow evade your wrath and wait out your patience, perhaps he had a chance of escaping with his life and sanity-

BOOM!

His balance rocked and wavered in a fatal stumble; stomach clenching in surprise, quickly throwing a hand out to catch his fall. But found nothing.

With a screech, Burgess fell.

The inky darkness faded into a spectacle of roaring colors and freezing devastation. He screamed, twisting and contorting in an oscillating tunnel of blue and purple clouds twinkling in stardust, plunging into the heart of the universe; the soul of reality.

“Wandering blindly into the dark unknown, far beyond this vast and magical reality…”

Fearful eyes widened as the screech of rushing comets and planet-sized meteors whistled past him in blazing intensity. Stars around him buzzed and blazed in a sweltering dance of dust and light, raising thick beads of sweat on his brows.

Burgess couldn’t move, barely able to shield himself from the bursting blaze of dying stars. Fiery cinders seared like blazing bullets through clothes and bones alike. His cries of excruciating pain and babbling pleads fell on deaf and uncaring ears.

Utterly helpless, an unfortunate victim of reality’s wrath, he plummeted further into the maddening dark.

“Stranded before otherworldly truths and horrors mankind was never meant to witness…”

Swirling galaxies and glittering supernovas warped into a scarlet hollow faintly cracking in thunder’s roar. It emanated a heinous stench- something akin to burning brimstone and rotting meat. It seemed to loom in thick, noxious billows, weaving through the bloody chasm with strange sentience.

A living creature this far down?

Through watering eyes and bile burning his throat, he observed the strange fog dancing in helical patterns through the void. They seemed to move with purpose; for what, he did not know. Besides spreading its horrendous funk.

An improper omen, Burgess realized quickly; a vague warning of what waited in the darkness below. Nothing could’ve prepared him for what real horrors lingered beyond the shadows of time and space.

His eyes widened in their behold, witnessing firsthand the unholy creatures of madness and nightmares.

Beyond misty trails and beats of thunder, the raucous, high-pitched cries of a thousand broken flutes blared in a toneless tune. It was deafening- maddening; ringing in his eardrums like amplified tinnitus.

To his right, short humanoid creatures with pale gaunt faces and fibrous bat wings swarmed a twister-covered islet. They flailed in a strange dance, almost mindlessly, to the blaring broken wail. The rampant vortices easily swept their fluttering bodies in their currents- even that failed to hinder their ridiculous dance.

To his left- may the gods have mercy- colossal tentacles coated in thick scales and blister-like pustules emerged from the dark in sluggish sways. Their scale was incomprehensible; one languid swipe could destroy planets! The godless beast could swallow entire star systems, he feared.

“Lest what semblance of sanity rots into chaos and madness.”

Burgess’s eyes fell forward, to his sanity’s dismay.

Before him was the center of it all. The creator of beasts. Primordial madness.

It was an eyeless cyclopean entity; a bloated and unsightly mass of bulbous knots covered in leathery tendrils and mucus-like sludge. Rows of razor-sharp teeth lined the infinite orifice masking its featureless face; ready to devour any careless creature that fell into its jaws.

Much like Burgess.

His lips peeled back in a hopeless grin under his powerful sobs, cachinnating in a crazed chorus under the flutes’ insipid tune.

So this is the truth behind madness? Behind reality itself? He wondered in chortling delight, falling straight into the jaws of fate.

Oh, he couldn’t wait to tell Randall of this wondrous truth! Of all the majestic, abominable marvels lying dormant at reality’s edge!

This truth… Reality’s glorious truth! It was far superior to power or wealth, beyond the hollow values of humanity and sanity’s restraints.

Here, he was a tiny insignificant speck about to be swallowed by a cosmic leviathan, and never felt more doomed and freed.

***

You hummed with a smile, hovering above the crafted reality with amusement in your fiery eyes. The nonsensical ramblings of madmen never ceased to amuse you. Especially those driven to the brink by your own hand.

A low chuckle spilled from your lips. Oh, how you missed this! Basking in chaotic corruption was such an invigorating thrill! You couldn’t remember the last time you felt so free; so unhinged.

Fiery darkness danced at your fingertips in weaving flicks, fabricating every twinkling star and horrid monstrosity alike. This reality is becoming one of your favorites, you think. It was inspired by the terrifying dreams Morpheus had created for an aspiring writer in America. You were captivated by the concept of unfathomable deities from the depths of the cosmos, able to influence sensitive minds through dreams and evoke chaos and madness with their presence alone.

You wonder what inspired the idea…

Screams of pain pulled you from your thoughts. You glanced into the void- oh, how wonderful! Your summoner impaled himself on a colossal tooth in the monster’s gullet.

You laughed in sadistic delight, watching him wriggle and writhe in his last heaving breath.

Well, that’s no fun…

With a jerk of your finger, Burgess slid off the tooth in a sickening squelch as the gaping cavity in his chest laced back together like a corset- just enough to keep him alive a little while longer.

Much better! Now then, what else could you inflict on your pompous captor-

“Love, that’s enough.”

You froze; paralyzed by a voice softer than silk. All baleful thoughts halted in their fiery rant, instantly snuffed out by calming tidal waves.

A gentle hand slipped past the cosmic flames’ flicker and curled over your own- silencing every violent and vengeful desire Chaos had spurred in an instant.

His joy clashed with your rage. His hope battled your despair. His light defeated your darkness.

Regretful tears rolled in rivers down your face and fell into the corrupted reality below. How could you have strayed so far? How could you abandon all the goodness that he taught you?

How could you let yourself become the monster so many believed you to be? Including yourself…

You gripped his hand as tight as you could, clinging to the warmth of his touch, terrified of letting go. Of losing control again.

Guilt washed over you with a hurricane’s wrath. Your actions reverberated like a torturous echo; the screams of terror, the pleas for death, the horrific pain your rage created…

What have I done?

In resisting flickers, the blazing black flames slowly suffocated into a dying hush, compelling Reality’s unravel.

***

“Argh-”

THUD!

“Ugh…” Burgess stirred in the bone-shattering pain coursing through his body. He groaned into something cold and hard like concrete- The belly of the beast? The bottom of reality?

He lifted his head with a sharp jerk, his forehead gleaming in a sheet of sweat and eyes wide with madness- darting in hyper dashes all over the room.

How odd… Wherever he was, it took the likeness of his cellar. No- that can’t be right! Perhaps his new surroundings were so unfathomable, his mind replaced its nonsense with memories.

His thoughts cackled as he rolled onto his back in a careless flop. How curious… The clarity of his memories was exquisite! Insignificant details seemed to burst off of the constructed reality his memories painted. Every speck of dust and cobweb beamed with undeniable certainty; even his (surely) deceased followers writhing and groaning in their stupor beside him seemed too real.

“Love, it’s alright,” Morpheus whispered softly over your muffled cries.

“I-it happened a-again… It’s a-all m-my f-fault…”

A furrow creased Burgess’s white brows; he didn’t recognize that voice. This was a memory! He was certain! Who was this man? How did he get into his head?

Burgess turned his head towards the voice with a twitch in his neck and sparkling paranoia in his eyes. The man was tall like a tree with a face paler than snow and dressed in a black darker than the night sky. He nearly towered over a woman dressed in red, wrapping his arms around her in a protective embrace and holding her close to his chest.

Another entity perhaps-

That woman! The ethereal goddess of Reality’s truth! Is she an alternate version of the other deity? Was this still a memory, or did she submerge him into another reality? One with secrets that demanded to be explored?

No! No! No! His mind still spiraled in the truth of his former plane of existence!

His sanity would surely combust if he faced another truth!

“…let’s go home,” Morpheus said, and you pulled from his embrace with a sniffle.

“M-my totems…” Your tearful eyes glanced at Burgess with strange sorrow.

What for? He should thank you! Praising you, worshiping the ground you walked on for opening his eyes to reality’s wonderful truth!

The man’s steel eyes followed yours, hardening instantly with contempt.

“I’ll handle it.”

Burgess jumped back with a trembling hiss like he had been burned by the entity’s searing stare. His eyes of steel seemed to pierce far beyond flesh and bone, beyond the blood pumping erratically in his veins, and the fluttering ventricles beating out of his chest. He pierced something much more hallowed and precious. Cold and relentless, it intended to punish several lifetimes over.

Billows of fine sand suddenly engulfed the entities into a grainy vortex. His trembling arms were quick to shield his face from the sand’s whipping wrath.

As quick as it appeared, the wind died down- and the entities had vanished.

Burgess did not sleep that night.

He couldn’t- he wouldn’t. No- they’ll be waiting for him in his dreams! Those eldritch monsters beyond reality’s veil, lingering in the chaotic dark… Waiting. Biding their time for God knows what.

To swallow the universe whole? Wreak chaos and destruction to every plane?

He paced his study in a hysterical flutter. The pleas of his followers and physicians, even the desperate cries of his son couldn’t reach him. Their voices were all drowned out by the blaring sound of cracked flutes.

It was stuck in his mind, playing on a relentless loop like a tortuous record. Ear-splitting and harmonious, a monotonous symphony!

No! He refused to let his guard down. The dark couldn’t be trusted!

Burgess halted in his pace; dashing to his desk and grabbed a pen from its well.

Godless. He sprawled messily over a loose page. Those abominations were far beyond any god’s reach. Perhaps they were gods themselves…

“How could I be so blind? Randall-” He spun from his desk, facing a cheerful young man in military attire sitting comfortably in an armchair across the room. “My boy, don’t you see? Those monsters must be gods! Everything- molecules, elements, magic!- it all stems from them somehow-”

Meow…

For one blissful, merciful moment of clarity, the consuming madness within him froze in dead silence. A small sense of rationality glimmered in his eyes like diamonds, turning cautiously towards the subtle mew.

Black as night, sat a cat in the lurking shadows just beyond his study’s threshold. Its slitted eyes shone like a freshly minted sixpence in the moonlight. What a magnificent little creature.

Burgess approached the dark feline slowly in cautious measures. His canines pierced the thin delicate tissue of his lips with more force than he knew. Faint crimson streams trickled undetected down his chin in lazy rivers, too immersed in the creature before him to notice.

With a lithe leap and a skip of the man’s heart, the mysterious feline pranced with grace down the corridor. Burgess stuttered in his dash, nearly tripping over the ornamental runners striping the hardwood as he staggered into the hall.

The cat seemed to wait for him; patiently perched on the ornate curtail of an iron-wrought spiral staircase. How odd…

“Wh-what d-do yo-you want?!” The feline only blinked its moonish eyes; unfazed and uncaring, it ascended the staircase.

Every few steps, it would cast those strange eyes over its shoulder, as if it was assuring he followed into the attic space. A sweat broke over the old man’s brow, he heaved in anxious whimpers as paranoia hindered his every step. It was impossible to think; the thunderous pounding of his heart muffled his thoughts, fanning an overwhelming sense of fear like a rousing fire-

Perhaps this was an envoy of sorts from Reality’s Protectress; perhaps to open his eyes once again.

What was there to be afraid of? He knew the Truth; the Goddess protects the Truth; Therefore, She will always protect him!

Anticipation outweighed anxiety; he dashed up the stairs behind the cat with a maniacal smile smearing his face.

His eyes locked on the cat’s back, watching in wild mania as it strutted towards a black ornate chair seated in the corner of the circular attic. It hopped and circled the cushion, sitting powerfully tall in its center; somehow radiating the elegant essence of a king. The feline flashed its silver-slitted eyes in its rest, blinking at Burgess in a torpid blink.

“Hello.”

A dark voice suddenly called out, inciting a surge of fear and dread within the madman. His eyes grew wide and tumbled back in shock, mumbling incoherent huffs and babbling nonsense. Sitting before him sat a shadowy man with eyes of angry white stars burning into his skull.

The man from before, the one that comforted the Goddess. The one that embedded unwavering fear into his soul.

“N-no…” The man shook at the shadowy man as tears of terror rolled down his cheeks in trembling streams. “Please! Have mercy! I beg of you!”

“Have you any idea what you have done? The torment you inflicted on your own mind and to her?” The dark deity asked calmly, with striking eyes sharpened in rage. He rose from his black throne to his full intimidating height, slowly approaching the whimpering madman sobbing on his knees. “Can you even fathom the damage you could’ve done to your world?”

Those eyes… Colder than ice and sharper than a knife. Utterly relentless in slashing his delicate soul into ribbons! What had he done wrong to deserve his wrath? She gave him a gift! The gift of sight, of freedom, of Reality’s Truth- the glorious Truth!

Burgess cackled through his tears; all fear dissipating under the blissful warmth of this bestowed knowledge. This painful, burdensome, unholy knowledge.

“It was a wonderful mistake! I sought the Angel of Death- instead I gained something much, much more valuable! That woman- that Goddess! She opened my eyes and showed me horrors I can never unsee! They live in my mind now and feast on my brain- how incredible! It hurts! It hurts… Her reality is too cruel, too monstrous to bear. Please, have mercy on me!”

Morpheus frowned at his ramblings, cocking a brow in confusion.

What Chaos ravaged his mind? What reality had you created for this man?

“If her Reality is too cruel, perhaps my Dreams will be kinder.” The deity said as a sudden gust of wind whipped through the room. Through wide, fearful eyes, Burgess watched as wisps of dark thundering clouds emerged from the attic’s shadows, splitting the air in storming light.

The man shrieked as the looming storm drew closer, throwing his arms over his head in panic.

“Don’t fret. Your punishment shall be a gift…” Morpheus reassured, lowering himself before the cowering madman. “I give you this… The gift… of eternal… sleep.”

A hand unfurled before the entity’s lips, blowing sparkling waves of golden sand across Burgess’s eyelids.

Eyes of lead drooped in slumber’s dark embrace, screaming in a nocturnal silence that stirred his raging mind. With no fight left, Burgess surrendered to his nightmarish fate.

***

“Father! Father! Please wake up! Please!” A hysterical child cried, shaking Burgess’s arm as he whimpered and thrashed in his sleep.

“Doctor, what’s wrong with him?” A blonde woman asked, dabbing the chilled sweat from the man’s wrinkled brow.

“Blood pressure is normal, lungs are clear, no fever, no signs of trauma… His coma has no apparent cause, I’m afraid.”

Morpheus loomed like a shadow in the bedroom’s threshold with a cold glint in his eyes as they fell upon the sleeping man. His punishment was kindness; entrapped within the darkness of sleep, he was free from the Chaos that ravaged his mind, unable to hurt or capture another soul ever again.

For targeting Death, for ripping his wife from the arms of their daughter, all in the name of a reckless endeavor- this was the most compassion he could muster for this horrid man.

Neither in Dreams, nor in Reality, will you ever know peace again, Roderick Burgess.

He slipped down the corridor like a thief in the night, set to reclaim your stolen jewels.

Luminous moonlight streaked The Dreaming’s sky in pearlescent radiance, shining brightly in harmony with twinkling stars on the midnight canvas. Most nights, the cosmic brilliance elicited a sense of wonder and happiness; even more so when wrapped in Morpheus’s arms.

But tonight, it felt cold and empty; a terrible reminder of the horror you conjured.

You leaned on the balcony’s stone rail, bathed in the silver light with a cheerless frown aimed at the stars. Harsh thoughts swarmed your head like berating bees, slowly eating you away into an emotionless husk, numb to everything around you.

“Love?” A warm hand brushed over your shoulder, hardly shaking you out of your thoughts.

“Did that man lose his mind?” You asked in a sorrowful voice, eyes still pinned on the vale below.

“He did.” Morpheus said reluctantly as a sad frown claimed his features. “However, from what I gathered, grief and obsession has taken a drastic toll on his sanity. Madness was destined to claim him with or without your hand.”

“And what of the others?” Your question quivered over a lump in your throat.

His hand fell from your shoulder, gripping your fidgeting hands, and tracing soothing circles into your skin. “Flustered. But they’ll recover. They’ll only remember what occurred as a harmless nightmare.”

Your brows twitched in a brief crease, a faint twinkle glossing over your eyes, but only for a moment. So distinct, but unmistakable under his observant gaze; the faint embers of hope flickering in Chaos’s torrential gale.

“Here.” A hand slipped into his coat pocket and retrieved your pendant, glinting in gilded opulence under the silver moon. A sigh of relief fell from your lips with a thankful smile. Morpheus stepped behind you, looping the necklace over your front and fastening the clasp behind your neck.

You closed your eyes as the pendant fell over your heart, basking in the waves of relief flooding through your chest, washing away every speck of dread and despair weighing you down.

“Don’t be so hard on yourself, (Y/n). After all they’ve done, they were more than worthy of your wrath.” He said, spinning you around to face him as he pulled your crown from his pocket. “In this instance, your corruption was just.”

He gently placed your crown atop your head with his hands falling to cradle your cheeks. He placed a loving kiss on your forehead, sealing it with his own.

Your eyes fluttered shut with a smile, as all turbulent thoughts fell in peaceful silence. Numbness and despair melted away into joyful warmth, as all you could feel now was Morpheus.

Your light in the darkness. Your hope in despair. Your Dream in this chaotic nightmare.

Feedback is always appreciated. I hope you enjoyed!

#The Sandman #The Sandman Fanfic #the sandman netflix #morpheus x reader #dream x reader #dream of the endless #the sandman fanfiction #lord morpheus #Morpheus x You #morpheus x y/n #goddess!reader #light angst #the sandman fluff #horror

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daddyjackfrost · 2 years

Text

Chapter 4: Perhaps, Friendship?

╰┈➤ ❝ [Stay With Me ; Morpheus] ❞

morpheus x fem!reader

warnings: third person pov, 10.5k+ words, angst, mean dream, hurt/comfort, yeah

a/n: i’m so terribly sorry this took so long to write…. anyways 😛 i hope u like it!

read chapter 5 here

stay with me ; masterlist

The scent of ink and wood carried through the library, the yellow lights were dim, and Lucienne was at peace. Her study was organized, her quill was perfect, and she was ready to get a heap amount of work done.

Her quill had just touched the paper when she heard the sound of vaguely familiar laughter nearing.

Sighing, the librarian put down her quill and looked at her large, wooden doors expectedly.

Loud voices pushed her doors wide open, three culprits standing before her, all indulged in their own conversation. A reluctant smile pulled at Lucienne’s lips at the sight of Mervyn laughing, his wooden shoulders shook and his head was tipped back.

“Ahem,” Lucienne cleared her throat.

Mervyn, Matthew, and Y/n looked up at Lucienne, a guilty smile on Y/n’s face. Lucienne took a moment to inspect the woman. She looked healthy, but there was a sullen sadness behind her eyes. One she often saw in her Lord.

“Some of us,” Lucienne threw a pointed look at Mervyn, “have work to do.”

“Sorry, Lucienne,” Matthew said, perched on Y/n’s shoulder. “We wanted to ask you if you wanted to come with us?”

Y/n nodded, her eyes lighting up. “You must, Lucienne. It’ll be so fun.”

“Where to?” The librarian asked, slightly intrigued.

Y/n and Mervyn shared a look before turning back to her.

“Fae said she would use her dust on Mervyn and I.” Y/n’s smile was wide.

Lucienne blinked. “Pardon?”

“We’re gonna fly, Luci. The kid and I. Then we’ll fight Matthew and Fae in the air.” Mervyn rested against a bookshelf, nonchalant.

Lucienne stared at Mervyn for a moment, deciding to ignore the nickname for the time being. She turned to Matthew and Y/n, both staring at her with wide eyes. “What?”

“Told you she’d freak,” Mervyn whispered to Y/n. The woman slapped his arm in return.

Lucienne inhaled a long breath, closing her eyes and counting to three. When she opened her eyes, she straightened in her seat and picked up her quill.

“You three are going to get yourselves in trouble, and I will not be part of it.” She paused. “Tell me how it goes.”

Matthew chirped. “We won’t. Not when the Boss has a soft spot for Miss demi-god here.”

Y/n turned to Matthew, her mouth agape and eyes wide. She brushed him off her shoulder, rolling her eyes at Matthew and Mervyn’s laughter. “He does not.”

Lucienne said nothing in response, just smiled briefly before motioning towards the door. “Get out now, please.”

Bickering, the three left Lucienne’s study. She shook her head in amusement before returning to her work. She was sure she would hear about their time with Fae at some point, and the disaster of it all.

Leaving Lucienne in her study, the trio made their way out of the palace. Fae had agreed to meet them outside the palace, past the bridge.

“Do you think this is a good idea?” Y/n asked Mervyn.

The pumpkinhead shrugged. “Probably not, but it’ll be fun.”

Matthew nodded his head, landing back on Y/n’s shoulder. “I can’t wait to see you guys fly.”

Y/n spotted Fae and raised her hand in greeting, waving to the fairy. As they walked across the bridge, they passed many dreamers. Y/n smiled at them, unaware of their stares of awe.

“Greetings, friends.”

Fae’s soft voice reached their ears and Y/n smiled as Matthew cawed in greeting. Mervyn nodded his head at the fairy, trying to keep his eyes off her.

Y/n walked towards Fae and the fairy opened her arms. Mindful of her wings, Y/n hugged Fae.

Pulling back, Fae clapped her dark, brown hands. Her golden eyes shone. “Are you ready?”

Y/n and Mervyn nodded, excited. Matthew flew off Y/n’s shoulder and landed on the grass next to Fae.

Reaching into her pouch, Fae grabbed a handful of bright pink sand. It shimmered in The Dreaming sun. Y/n’s heart fluttered. She could feel the magic.

“Lord Morpheus granted me this sand to aid in dream-making. He would be disappointed that it is being used this way…”

Merv tsked, putting his cigar away. “Come now, Fae. You promised.”

Fae smiled, shaking her head. “I did. Step forward.”

Y/n and Merv stepped towards Fae and she sprinkled sand over them. She mumbled incoherent words, and when she blew the last remnants of the sand, Mervyn and Y/n began to float.

Y/n screamed in surprise when her feet lifted off the ground. Her arms spread wide as her body tried to stabilize itself in the air. Her laughter was loud.

Merv let out a small laugh when he kicked his legs and pushed his arms, moving. He looked stiff in the air, unnatural, but he felt so free.

Matthew chirped, happily. He pushed off the ground and flew around Y/n and Merv. He tried to teach Mervyn how to move properly, and in the process, the pumpkinhead kicked Y/n’s arm.

“Ow, Merv.”

“Sorry, kid.” Merv was upside down, his smile wide.

Fae laughed before flapping her wings and kicking off the ground. She flew up to Mervyn, giggling when Y/n pushed him.

The four of them stayed in the air, laughing and pushing. Dreamers watched them with glazed eyes, enjoying the unusualness of their dream. One they hoped to remember.

“You look like a starfish,” Matthew told Merv. The pumpkinhead had his arms and legs spread out, following Fae’s advice. At the comment, Merv grumbled and Fae consoled him.

“Is this how you feel when you fly?” Y/n asked Matthew.

The raven chirped, nodding. “Yup. It’s nice, right?”

Y/n nodded, soaking in the sun and the feeling of complete freedom. At this moment, she was not tethered to anything. Not the ground, humanity, or sadness. She was free of immortal bindings.

“What,” a low, dark voice interrupted them, “is going on here?”

The dreams and Y/n looked down instantly, finding Morpheus standing before them with his hands behind his back and his lips pulled into a frown.

His eyes were bright, curious. When they landed on Y/n, they sharpened.

“We, uh,” Y/n licked her lips, fixing her dress, “we’re flying?”

“Yes,” Morpheus said. “I see that. Why?”

Y/n looked at Fae, then at Merv, before looking back at Morpheus. “For fun?”

Morpheus blinked slowly, swallowing his initial amusement. “You are disrupting the dreamers.”

His tone, soft and plain, free of accusation, just fact, sobered the dreams. Fae grabbed onto Merv’s leg and Y/n’s arm, pulling them back to the ground. Once their feet landed, the sand fell off their bodies and they were once again binded to the ground.

“Forgive me, your Majesty.” Fae bowed, an unwelcome frown on her lips. “I understand if you wish to take back your gift.”

Morpheus’s eyes were on Fae, his lips thinned. Unconsciously, his eyes drifted to Y/n’s frown, her pursed lips and conflicted eyes, and Morpheus shook his head once.

“I will not. However, do not misuse, Fae. A gift is a gift, its purpose is in the hands of the receiver.”

The fairy nodded, smiled briefly at Y/n, and flew away.

Matthew and Mervyn were quiet, standing beside Y/n. They hid behind her shadow, knowing that the human–half human–would protect them from Moprheus’s silent rage.

“Come, Y/n.” Morpheus’s voice tickled Y/n’s neck. It pulled at her heart, the intimacy of her name on his tongue.

“Or stay.” His second comment felt colder, a push Y/n had grown familiar to.

Morpheus’s eyes turned to Mervyn and the pumpkinhead straightened. “Abel calls for you, Mervyn. Cain has broken his well.”

Saluting Morpheus, Merv bumped his shoulder against Y/n’s. “See ya later, kid.”

Matthew landed on Y/n’s shoulder, his designated place on their adventures. Morpheus turned and began to walk away, towards the Barren.

Falling into step with him, Y/n smiled as she passed dreamers and dreams alike. She had begun dreaming more, yearning to spend more time in The Dreaming then the Waking World.

Although she loved her waking life, her dream life had become one of joy and pleasure.

“You have a significant way with my creations, Y/n.”

She turned her head, drinking in his side profile. “Do I?”

“Yes.” The Endless nodded. “They cannot stay away from you.”

Can you? Y/n wondered. Do you?

She bumped her chin against Matthew’s head. “Is this about the Corinthian?”

Morpheus said nothing, and she knew it was. A few days ago, she woke at the edge of the gates of Ivory. The Corinthian found her, and kept her company. They walked around The Dreaming, and she learned more about the nightmare.

Word spread that the immortal and the nightmare were spending time together, and Y/n realized that disgust was a universal emotion, not just a human one.

“Jealousy is not a pretty emotion, Lord Morpheus.”

Dream’s jaw tightened. He was an Endless, the Lord of The Dreaming, and yet, a halfblood had the nerve to insult him. His nostrils flared at the formal title. It felt teasing, taunting.

“I am not one to succumb to petty human emotions, Daughter of Bast. Do not forget it.”

There was not a single fleeting sight of fear in her eyes, just amusement. Her grin widened and she turned her head, hiding her snicker of laughter.

Matthew was silent, observing the interactions between his Master and his friend. There had been an ongoing conversation between Lucienne, Mervyn, and himself about the two. Questions, theories, and bets had been discussed in private.

All in due time, the raven mused.

Once they reached the Barren, Y/n’s smile dimmed. Her eyes drifted across the plain, dark land. It reminded her of her village, once upon a time. Burned to the ground by those who held the flame.

“The Barren is… barren.”

“Yes,” Morpheus answered, walking towards the middle. “I believe the name is quite fitting.”

Y/n stepped off the soft grass and onto hardened purple sand. It was cold below her exposed feet, and a shiver ran up her spine. As she began to follow, warm brown boots appeared on her feet and she stumbled. Matthew pulled the shoulder of her dress, stabilizing her.

She looked down at the boots and wiggled her foot, one by one. Then, she lifted her head and stared at the back of Morpheus’s head, her heart tightened and she blinked slowly.

Morpheus felt her stare, it burned him.

They walked towards the middle, where three blobs of gray, sandy matter awaited them.

Morpheus stood before them, his arms hanging. His head tilted and his blue eyes twinkled. His mind quietened as he inhaled a long, deep breath.

Humans had become cruel, creative. Their dreams had become nightmares for others.

“What are you making?” Y/n asked quietly, her voice a caress on Morpheus’s touch-deprived face.

“I am unsure,” he responded, quieter than her. Y/n leaned in closer, her arm brushing his.

“A dream,” she whispered. “There are enough nightmares in the Waking World.”

Morpheus’s lips parted slightly. He wanted to ask what she meant, why she refused to tell him more, but he said nothing. Instead, he said, “very well.”

Matthew’s beak fell open, his eyes wide. He never thought he would see the day when Morpheus would so easily accept the recommendation of another.

Lucienne will love this, he thought, and hate it.

Morpheus stepped back, forcing Y/n to as well. The Endless raised his pale, delicate hands, and began to move them in calculated, smooth movements.

Y/n’s eyes stayed on his hands, the way a flick of his finger sculpted a cheek, feigned pressure created the space for an eye. She had seen sculptors sculpt before, but none had ever moved with grace the way Morpheus did.

He poured his love, his empathy, into the dream. The tenderness in which he performed had never been witnessed before, and it tingled the depth of Y/n’s heart. It felt private, something that was hers until the end of time.

In a way incomprehensible to a lesser being, Morpheus finished creating the dream, and when he did, he dropped his hands and released a small breath.

Y/n’s eyes widened in amazement, her jaw close to the floor. In a blink of an eye, Morpheus had created something so beautiful, majestic.

Before them stood a large, eagle-like bird with red and golden feathers. The bird had dark red eyes and an indigo beak. It was surely a creature worthy of only The Dreaming.

“A phoenix?”

“That’s a big bird,” Matthew whispered, puffing his chest.

Morpheus’s eyes were round, filled with love. The dream before him was perfect, and it had been the first he had created in a long time.

“The phoenix, a mythical creature of human thought, is a symbol of hope, renewal, resurrection,” his eyes drifted to Y/n’s momentarily, “and immortality.”

He reached out to the bird, gently petting the bowed phoenix’s head. “Humanity is in need of hope and healing, perhaps this dream will guide them to a better renewal.”

Y/n listened to Morpheus closely. The way his words fell off his tongue, precise and knowledgeable. He spoke as if he knew humanity well, and he did.

“Yes, humanity could use some hope and healing.” Y/n hesitantly reached out to the bird, awaiting Moprheus’s approval. When he nodded, once, she laid her hand gently on the phoenix’s head.

Morpheus wondered when Y/n had begun to separate herself from humanity.

“There is an Egyptian mythological creature that resembles a phoenix.” She paused. “The Bennu.”

Morpheus scratched the underside of the bird’s chin. “I see.”

Y/n petted the bird’s neck, gently. “I thought learning about my mother dearest and her history would be beneficial.”

Matthew crackled, quickly clearing his throat at Moprheus’s unimpressed look.

“It is not wise to taunt the Gods, Y/n.”

Y/n ignored Moprheus’s sharp look, a warning he wished he could have told many before her.

“I will burn that bridge when I get to it, Morpheus.” Y/n smiled when the bird leaned into her touch. “What are you naming him?”

Morpheus turned his head back to the phoenix, his head slightly tilted to the left. “Its name is Phoenix.”

“Oh,” Y/n tried to hide her disappointment. “What about Blaze?”

Morpheus stilled, turning to face Y/n’s amused smile. His lips were pulled into a frown and he shook his head. “No.”

Y/n shrugged. “I’ll call him Fi-Fi, then.” Her grin widened when Matthew laughed. “Isn’t that right, Fi-Fi?” She patted the bird's cheek.

Morpheus chose not to respond, knowing if he indulged her, she would win.

Everything is a game, he reminded himself.

Everything.

He nodded once at the new dream, and the bird cawed loudly once before flying away. Y/n watched the phoenix fly away with big, curious eyes.

The red stood out in the dull purple sky and she counted the seconds it took for the red to disappear.

Morpheus, in turn, watched her.

“Have you read every book in this library, Lucienne?”

“Yes, I have. These books are my responsibility, in my care. How can I call myself the chief librarian if I do not know the books in my library?”

The women stood in an aisle, sorting books. It was comforting to them, surrounded by ink and paper. Y/n felt at home, her library in the Waking World mirrored Lucienne’s, except here, there was a friend.

“Have you?” Lucienne asked her, curious.

She kept her knowledge on the Waking World up to par, but felt conflicted asking Y/n about her life. From the strain of her eyes, and the way her smile had dimmed in the slightest, she knew that Y/n suffered the fate of every immortal.

Human life was meant to be lived temporarily, short.

Y/n nodded, smiling as she slid a book into place.

“Yes. My library is not as grand as yours, but it is big. I try to read at least ten books per day, if not more.”

Lucienne did not see the soft, reminiscent smile on Y/n’s face. They faced opposite shelves, their backs to each other.

“Does it not get tiresome?”

“Not in the slightest,” Y/n said. “Everyday, there is something new to do. To read. To see. And sometimes, life does get boring but I am so privileged to think so.”

Lucienne smiled, amazed at Y/n’s love for her life. The librarian knew that she had seen many horrible things, gone through unimaginable loss, and yet, she could not find it in herself to hate any part of her life.

It was honorable, and a bit fearsome.

“You carry a lot of love, Y/n.”

Y/n’s smile turned remorseful, Lucienne’s words sounded familiar. “I do.”

Lucienne turned, and the movement made Y/n turn as well. They stared at each other, a secret forming between them. A bond tightening and looping around them.

“Have you ever wished for your time to end?”

Y/n leaned against the shelf, thinking. She had lived many lives, for many years, and the memories had begun to blur together.

“Yes,” she answered quietly. “Once. Long ago.”

Lucienne stared, staying quiet. She would not ask, but her silence invited conversation.

“I had no family growing up. No brothers or sisters. But I had friends. People I loved like my own. When they all passed, the thought of going with them crossed my mind.”

Lucienne’s eyes softened. She had been in The Dreaming for a long time, and no longer remembered human attachment, but the anguish in Y/n’s voice was enough.

“What changed your mind?”

Y/n smiled, twisting a single band on her finger. “My friend, Karisa, on her deathbed, made me promise that I would live for the both of us. She reminded me of the love I had for living, and told me I was too strong to die.”

“She sounds wonderful.”

“She was simply splendid. Crazy, loud, improper, but splendid.”

Lucienne’s smile tightened, and Y/n noticed. Turning, the librarian finished organizing her shelf. Y/n watched Lucienne, the stiffness of her shoulders, the way she tried to shrug off her sadness.

“If there is one thing humans did right, it is the concept of friendship.”

“Right? Having even a single friend can change your life.”

Lucienne said nothing in response.

“Lucienne.” Y/n said her name in a way she had yet to hear, free of authority and want, just love.

The librarian turned, eyebrows raised. Y/n smiled at her, a knowing look on her face.

“Thank you for being my friend.”

Lucienne’s lips parted and she blinked. A genuine smile pulled at her lips and she pushed her glasses up.

“Thank you, Y/n.”

Morpheus found both women staring at each other, smiles on their faces. He stepped out from within the shadows, standing tall.

“Lucienne. Y/n.”

Lucienne turned her head to Morpheus, tipping her head in a bow. “My Lord.”

Y/n raised her hand and smiled at him. His hair was unruly, sticking up in a way that was heartwarming and irritating. His porcelain skin glowed under the warm library lights, and his coat was longer, different.

He was ethereal.

“Have you completed the drafts on the new dreams and nightmares, Lucienne?”

The librarian nodded, handing her book to Y/n. “Yes, my Lord. It is on my desk. I’ll just be a moment.”

Lucienne walked away, leaving Y/n and Morpheus alone between the aisles. A scene familiar to both.

Morpheus watched Y/n as she slid the book into place. Lucienne had her own system, unbeknownst to anyone. It was hers to understand, hers to know, and yet, Y/n had learned.

“You do not have to help Lucienne.” He knew that his librarian was very capable and used to working alone.

Y/n turned, leaning against the shelf. She crossed her arms, staring at the ancient being before her. “I know. I want to.”

Morpheus did not ask, but the question was clear in his icy blue eyes: why?

“I love spending time with Lucienne. I love this library. It’s a pleasure to be here.”

“Lucienne enjoys your company.”

“Do you?”

Y/n froze, her eyes lifting to meet Morpheus’s blue ones. They were sharp, free of any emotion. Her question did not seem to have affected him, but she saw his stiff shoulders, the way he reeled away at confrontation.

Hurried footsteps broke their stare. Moprheus turned, staring at an approaching Lucienne. “Here it is, My Lord.”

Morpheus grabbed the papers, nodding appreciatively at Lucienne.

The librarian looked between her Lord and Y/n, her eyes slightly narrowing.

“Y/n,” Morpheus said her name quietly. A whisper. A prayer. His eyes drifted to hers, and he almost answered her question.

I do, he wanted to say. I have no reason to, and yet, I do.

Instead, he said, “Accompany me to the dreamwalk?”

“Dreamwalk?”

“The waters of The Dreaming.”

Y/n’s eyes lit, her smile widening into a grin. She loved exploring The Dreaming. Learning more about the Dream realm quenched a thirst she had long forgotten about.

“Oh, yes. Please.”

“Come.”

Morpheus turned, giving the women a moment of privacy. Y/n smiled at Lucienne and squeezed her hand. “I will see you soon, Lucienne.”

The smile Lucienne returned was small, secretive.

“Have fun, my friend.”

Y/n turned and looked up at the back of Morpheus’s head. His head turned slightly, the corners of his eyes meeting hers.

“Do not get lost, Y/n.”

“Lost? What do you mea—”

Dark smoke clouded them, and they were pulled, twisting and turning. Y/n closed her eyes and reached for Dream, grabbing onto his arm. When they landed, she opened her eyes to dark, dangerous waters.

They stood on a dock, sky purple and water blue, swimming with dreams and nightmares.

Y/n let go of Moprheus’s arm, stepping back. She smoothed out her dress, ignoring his heated glare. Hesitantly, she took small steps towards the edge of the dock, passing Morpheus’s still body.

A strong, yet gentle hand grabbed her shoulder, halting her. Y/n stilled at the contact.

“Do not go further, lest you fall and get lost within the waters.”

Morpheus’s voice tickled her neck, his hold on her shoulder tightening for the slightest of moments before he let go and stepped away.

“These waters are consuming, filled with dreams and nightmares almost as old as Time itself. No one besides myself can navigate these waters.”

Y/n’s eyes wandered the dock, fixing on certain dreams that swam close to the surface. The Dreaming was magnificent, it was beyond beautiful, but here, this dock, it was the realm of nightmares.

The coldness of the air, the depth of the water, the uncertainty of what is hidden was enough to remind Y/n that while Morpheus was the King of Dreams, he was also the Ruler of Nightmares.

This was the other, hidden side to the coin.

With the raise of his hand, the waters lifted, danced. His hand swayed, and the water swayed as well. The dreams and nightmares performed, basking in Y/n’s full attention. Morpheus’s lips twitched at the sight of Y/n’s amazement.

“Do you do this for all your friends, Dream?” Y/n turned her head, a teasing smile on her face.

Morpheus stilled, his expression turned to stone and his eyes narrowed. His hand dropped, as did the water. His presence shifted, grew colder and distant. He stood taller while shadows around him darkened.

Y/n’s words had broken the unfortunate spell he had been under, and his eyes darkened, turning the same colour as the deep blue waters.

“What did you say?”

Y/n turned around at the low, menacing tone Moprheus used. Her eyes widened as her lips parted. In all the years they had known each other, Morpheus had never shown this side to him.

“I–”

“Is that what you think we are?” Morpheus took a small step towards Y/n, his eyes rimmed with red. “Friends?” He spat the word, as if the very notion pained him.

Y/n swallowed, standing tall. “Are we not? Do we not speak and interact as friends?”

“I am an Endless, Y/n. Do you truly believe that a being such as myself has any value for a pathetic halfblood such as yourself?”

Morpheus’s words were harsh, unredeemable, and yet he could not stop himself.

“Halfblood?”

Morpheus stepped closer. “Half human and half God. It is what we call those that were abandoned, unloved.”

Y/n’s eyes watered, but she stood tall. Her lips shook, but she did not remove her gaze from Moprheus. He was enraged, furious. She could not recognize him, his fury matched those of brutal Kings and harsh Rulers.

“You forget yourself, human. You have inserted yourself in The Dreaming. Do you truly believe I would waste precious time on you?” His voice dropped an octave, reaching the depths of Y/n’s heart.

“A being such as yourself has no value to me. You are a single atom in my vast universe.”

“Morpheus,” Y/n’s voice wavered. “You’re being mean, and I won’t let you take back your words.”

Morpheus tilted his head down, eye levels matching. The blue had darkened, replaced with black. These were the eyes of an Endless. The eyes and anger of the Ruler of Nightmares.

“You have bewitched me, halfblood.” Morpheus’s nose almost touched Y/n’s. “You are not welcomed in The Dreaming as a guest any longer. If you shall dream, you shall do so as every human does.”

Morpheus ignored the tears that gathered in her eyes, his heart racing and blood boiling. “I will pity you no longer. There will be no more exploring.”

“You, Y/n,” Morpheus’s voice lowered, touching the very bottom of Y/n’s shattered heart, “are no friend to The Dreaming.” The shadows on his face darkened, and he looked like Y/n’s worst nightmare. “Nor I.”

Morpheus stepped back, and tears spilled from Y/n’s eyes. It had been the first time she had cried in years, and her heart began chipping away, the one she spent so long trying to rebuild.

“You may not pity me any more, Morpheus, but I pity you. Imagine,” she stepped towards him, her eyes glistened with tears, “being as old as Time, and lonelier than Death.”

Y/n’s arms dropped, as did her facial muscles, and Moprheus finally saw the price of immortality on her face. The way her eyes had slightly sullen, the way her lips naturally turned downwards, and the look of utter heartbreak on her face.

“I never wish to see or speak to you again. Awake or dreaming.” Y/n’s voice falters, but her eyes are hard, unforgiving.

She pushes past Morpheus, walking away from him. Morpheus listens to her footsteps, his stoic expression cracking with each step she takes.

The King of Dreams stands in the Barren for a long time, realizing that the silence around him will be his company until the end of this world, and the next.

Alone, he mulls. Forever.

Chills run across Moprheus’s skin, and the Endless lifts his head, his eyes closing and lips thinning.

Y/n is in The Dreaming.

The throne room is dark, colder than it usually is. Morpheus leans back on his throne, itching for something he cannot identify.

Straining his ears, he can hear Lucienne and Y/n’s laughter from the library, and it pulls at his heart.

Years had passed since Moprheus and Y/n had last spoken, and he had felt the time like a heavy weight on his shoulders.

Once, he had called upon Mervyn and felt her presence nearby, but she never showed herself.

It was within his power to scope The Dreaming, watch every resident or dreamer, but Moprheus refused to use his omnipotence unwisely. And so, he kept away from Y/n.

Often, Morpheus found himself closing his eyes and opening his ears. He listened to her laugh, her stories, the way she breathed and the calmness of it.

His words from the Barren haunted him, replaying in his mind. He had not realized the weight of his words until fifty years had passed and Lucienne had accidentally told him that Y/n had expressed anger at the thought of him.

Morpheus knew that he had been the one to push Y/n away. His words broke her heart, pulled her away from him, but he did not think about the repercussions of his words.

Immortals often tended not to.

He sighed, dropping his head into his hands.

He knew that Y/n still explored The Dreaming, except it was no longer with him. Her usual companions were Matthew and Mervyn, and sometimes Cain and Abel.

The murderous holy brother had become friends with the woman, and it ached Morpheus every day.

A foreign force pushed at Morpheus’s mind, and he waved his hand. His sister did not visit often, and the thought of her brought ease to his racing mind.

“You look terrible,” a teasing feminine voice said.

Dream lifted his head and his eyes softened at the sight of his sister.

Death stood in the middle of the throne room, her hands on her waist. She wore black leather, and her sigil hung from her neck. Her curly black hair was longer, and her dark brown skin glistened.

“Sister,” Morpheus greeted, standing. He walked down the steps and towards Death until he stood before her. “What brings you to my realm?”

Death’s eyes trailed Morpheus before she raised an eyebrow at her brother. “Are you a child, Dream?”

Morpheus blinked. “No.”

“Then why,” Death sighed, “do you behave as such?”

Morpheus said nothing, but his lips pulled into a frown.

“Your hundred year meeting with Y/n L/n did not happen today.” Death’s voice lowered slightly, heavy with wisdom. “Why?’

Morpheus’s heart tugged at the thought of Y/n. It had been a hundred years since he heard her voice, been pestered by her questions and inane energy. Their distance had resulted in a dull pain behind his eyes.

“Y/n and I will no longer be meeting every hundred years.”

Death snorted, her other eyebrow raising. “And why is that? Has she taught you the meaning of humanity? Are you convinced of a human’s capacity to love?”

Dream’s eyes narrowed. “Y/n is not human.” At the sight of Death’s unchanged expression, his lips parted. “You knew that.”

Death shook her head, her eyes softening.

“Being human does not come in portions, Dream. Although Y/n is the daughter of Bast, she is the most human of beings I have ever known. Do you not know of her pain? Of all she has suffered? And yet, she continues to love. To live.”

Death stepped closer, placing her hand on Moprheus’s chest. “Fate is not straightforward. It is unknowing, unchangeable. Why do you break your own heart?”

“I do not know what you speak of, sister.” Morpheus’s eyes were red, glazed.

“I made Y/n immortal so she could live her life to the fullest, and so you could finally learn a thing or two about humanity. She is tied to you, Morpheus. Through history, through Bast, through it all.”

“I do not understand, sister. Why would Y/n be tied to me?”

Death sighed, a breathy laugh escaping her. “Get off your high horse and apologize to her. I do not know what you said, but I know it was you who ruined the balance of fate.”

She smiled at him, patting his chest once. “Fix it.”

Death stepped back, smiled at her brother, and disappeared.

Morpheus stood still, Death’s words ringing in his ears. He could not make sense of any of them, except her last words.

“Fix it.”

Releasing a long breath, Dream stared at his large throne room doors. He was not one to apologize, or forgive. He was an Endless, superior to every other being. He did not need to fix things. He created them.

When the time was right, she would come to him. And he would let her.

Until then, Morpheus would do his job, complete his responsibilities. He would learn to ignore her laughter ringing through The Dreaming.

Inhaling, Morpheus straightened. As he turned to make his way back to his throne, a solid knock rang through the room.

“Enter,” Morpheus called out.

Lucienne pushed open the large doors, bowing. She walked towards Dream with paced steps and a soft, professional frown on her lips.

“My Lord,” Lucienne greeted. “I have some unfortunate news.”

Morpheus’s heart stilled for the briefest of moments. A question of Y/n’s wellbeing was on the tip of his tongue, but he said nothing.

“The Corinthian… he seems to be looking for a way to the Waking World.” Lucienne paused, her words dying on her tongue. Dream’s eyes narrowed. “I believe he is trying to get some sort of information from Y/n.”

Her name on Lucienne’s tongue was hesitant, light. But it had the same effect on him it always did. His heart pulled and he took a moment before answering. Her name had become taboo around him.

“What sort of information could The Corinthian want from Y/n?”

“I am not sure, my Lord. She briefly mentioned her meeting with the Corinthian. But I have heard speculation from other nightmares as well.”

Morpheus crossed his arms behind his back, tilting his head up. “I shall speak to Y/n.” He wished to do anything but.

Lucienne winced. “My Lord… I do not think that is a wise idea.”

Icy blue eyes stared down at Lucienne. “Why is that?”

The librarian pursed her lips. “Y/n is stubborn. I do not think she wishes to see you.”

Lucienne’s words pierced Dream’s heart. “I will make her talk.”

“My Lord,” Lucienne’s eyebrows furrowed, “surely you would not misuse your authority?”

“I am your King, Lucienne.” Morpheus’s tone was harsh. “Do not question me.”

The librarian nodded, biting the inside of her cheek. “Of course.” She bowed her head and walked away, ignoring the way The Dreaming began to darken by gray clouds.

The Dreaming remained sullen, dark, for quite some time after that.

A warm breeze tickled Y/n as she laid sideways in Fiddler’s Green. A story about man’s pride and a woman’s prejudice that had yet to be written laid forgotten beside her. A picnic basket filled with small desserts sat near her, empty.

As she laid in her bed that night, she wished to be alone. Her thoughts had been heavy and company had been rampage. She wished to find peace and solitude in her dreams, and she did.

The grass below her caressed her skin, comforting her. Trees blocked the sun from her face. Fiddler’s Green was a place of comfort, and it loved Y/n as much as she loved it.

Against her better judgement, Y/n began to think about Morpheus. She missed him. His presence, his way of speaking, and the comfort he provided her. His words from the Barren often haunted her waking hours. The harshness behind them. The truth behind them.

If there was one thing Y/n learned over the years, it was that people—beings—always meant what they said when angry, unprovoked. If drunk words were sober thoughts, then angry words were hidden thoughts.

After the Barren, The Dreaming had become a bit uncomfortable for Y/n. She loved it and the residents, but she knew that it was his realm, and if he wanted to, he could remove her from it.

Closing her eyes, Y/n released a small shaky breath. She wished to see Morpheus, to hear his low, raspy voice. She wished for his apology.

Y/n’s lips pulled into a frown. The Endless was stubborn, much like her. She knew he would not apologize, and she would wait for it forever.

A chill ran through Y/n’s spine and she opened her eyes to find a black cat with yellow eyes staring at her.

Y/n did not move, her breath hitched. She stared at the cat, amazed at the size of it. It was a large cat, with black fur. It was beyond any feline she saw at her Mother’s palace.

Y/n pushed herself up, sitting with her back against a tree. She slowly bent her knees, hugging them as her eyes stayed on the cat.

“Hello,” she said. Y/n was unsure whether being the daughter of Bast gave her the ability to speak to this cat.

When she visited the palace, the other cats seemed to understand her, but this cat had a different presence.

Darker, superior, regal.

“I will not hurt you,” she whispered. “I promise.”

The cat took one step closer to her, its head tilting. Its yellow eyes glowed, narrowing at Y/n.

“I thought I wanted to be alone but I don’t.” She smiled at the tomcat. “I would really like it if you kept me company.”

The cat stared at Y/n before it slowly walked towards her. Her eyes widened as it neared, mistaking just how large this cat really was.

When it stood before her, she slowly blinked. The cat stared at her for a few minutes before slowly blinking.

Y/n grinned, tilting her head to the side. Slowly, she reached out to the cat, her hand limp to the side of its face. She stared at her hand, and then back to the cat. “You let me know if I can touch you.”

Hesitantly, the feline tilted its head towards her hand, sniffing it. It then bumped its head against her hand. Once Y/n realized it was okay, she gently rubbed its chin. It pushed into her soak, yellow eyes closing.

“Enjoying it, are you?” Y/n pet its cheek. “Are you a boy or girl?” Y/n laughed when the cat opened its eyes, staring at her.

“Girl?” The cat slightly pulled away.

“Boy?” He pushed into her hand.

Y/n’s smile widened. “A boy, huh?” Y/n ran the back of her hand along the side of his face. When he purred, Y/n laughed. She patted the grass next to her.

“Lay with me?”

To her surprise, the cat circled the grass once before laying next to her, his head resting against her thigh. Gently, she stroked his forehead to the base of his tail. He closed his eyes, purring.

“You remind me of someone,” she spoke gently to the cat. “Perhaps I dreamt you thinking of him.”

Y/n continuously stroked the cat, her own eyes closing. She rested her head against the tree.

They spent a long time in Fiddler’s Green, enjoying each other's company. Y/n had forgotten how much she loved cats, especially since she vowed to never get another after hers died in the Waking World.

Two loud male voices interrupted the comfortable silence. Y/n opened her eyes and a smile pulled at her lips at the familiar voices.

“Kid!” Mervyn appeared from behind a tree, Matthew close behind him. “There you are. Do you know how hard it is to find you?”

“Y/n!” Matthew greeted, landing on Merv’s shoulder.

At the sight of the large, black cat, their eyes widened and their mouths fell open. The cat stood in front of Y/n, protecting her.

Y/n looked at Mervyn’s disbelieving look and the cat before resting a hand on the cat’s back.

“Quiet down. You’ve scared him.”

“Scared him?” The pumpkinhead looked at Y/n with wide eyes. “Y/n, do you know this cat?”

Y/n shook her head. “No. He just showed up here a little while ago. I think I dreamt him.”

Merv looked at Matthew, and Matthew looked at Merv. The raven and pumpkinhead then looked at Y/n and plastered fake smiles on their faces.

“Yes,” Merv said. “You probably dreamt him.”

Matthew cleared his throat. “You wanna come with us to visit Lucienne? She misses you.”

At the sound of the librarian’s name, Y/n’s eyes brightened. The cat watched her with an unbreaking gaze. Pushing herself up, Y/n smoothed out her dress. She smiled down at the cat and rubbed his head.

“Come on,” she said. “We’re going on a little walk.”

Merv turned and began to walk, Y/n fell into step with him. The trio spoke and laughed and the cat walked behind them, drinking in the sight.

Glancing behind her, Y/n paused and waited until the feline fell into step with her. As the cat began to walk beside them, Mervyn stiffened, and Matthew slightly lowered his voice.

Y/n did not notice.

When they reached the library, Mervyn held the door for Y/n, and slightly bowed his head as the cat followed behind her.

Walking behind them, Matthew whispered in Merv’s ear.

“Is that really the Boss?”

Mervyn nodded, once. “Yeah, man. It is.”

The pair followed Y/n to Lucienne’s study.

Knocking, Y/n pushed open the large wooden doors. Lucienne stood in the corner of her study, scratching her chin as she glanced between two books.

“Working very hard, I see.”

At the sound of her voice, Lucienne turned and smiled at Y/n.

“Always,” the librarian responded. She stepped towards Y/n before gasping at the sight of the large cat, a hand on her heart and eyebrows raised.

Lucienne stared at the cat before looking back at Y/n. The librarian looked past Y/n, at Mervyn. The pumpkinhead nodded once and Lucienne dropped her hand, straightening her suit.

“I see you’ve made a new friend, Y/n.”

The woman smiled, petting the cat’s head. “Isn’t he lovely? He showed up in Fiddler’s Green just when I needed company. What are the chances?”

“I’d say pretty high,” Merv whispered to Matthew.

Lucienne shot Merv a warning glance before motioning towards the door. The pumpkinhead and raven tipped their head to the librarian before saying their goodbyes to Y/n and leaving.

When the doors shut, Lucienne motioned at the seats. “Sit, Y/n.”

Y/n sat down on her favourite chair and the cat followed her, sitting right beside her on the ground. Lucienne took the seat opposite of Y/n, her dark eyes glancing at the cat ever so often.

“How are you, my friend?”

Y/n’s smile fell momentarily before it widened. Yellow eyes watched her carefully, unblinking.

“I’m okay, Lucienne. Better.”

“You woke in Fiddler's Green today?”

Y/n nodded. “I did. I love Fiddler’s Green. It…” She looked away, a distant look in her eyes. “It reminds me of the place where Moprheus and I had our first meeting. All forests and clearings do.”

Lucienne looked at the cat, who had not moved his eyes from Y/n. Lucienne pursed her lips before gently smiling.

“Do you miss him?”

Y/n turned towards Lucienne, a conflicted look in her eyes. “I do. I miss his terrible company. More today, I suppose. Since it is the second meeting we have missed.”

Lucienne’s eyes softened. “I cannot imagine.”

An unprompted laugh escaped Y/n and she stared at Lucienne expectantly, an eyebrow raised.

“Yes, you can. You know him, Lucienne.” Y/n’s smile dimmed. “Time means nothing to him, does it?”

“No,” Lucienne’s eyes met yellow ones. “It does not.”

“I figured,” Y/n sighed. “How is he, Lucienne?”

The librarian lifted her eyes to meet Y/n’s.

“He is fine, Y/n. You must understand, Lord Morpheus is a complicated being. He loves his realm, but unlike his siblings, his responsibilities consist of the entire human unconsciousness. He is responsible for every human’s imaginative process when they sleep.”

Lucienne ignored the piercing stare and focused on Y/n’s intrigued eyes.

“He has a very bad habit of bursting into fits of rage and jeopardizing his own happiness, but it is not because he wants to, but because he takes his responsibilities very seriously and has no time to entertain anything else.”

Y/n leaned back in her chair, her hand resting on soft, black fur. “I understand, Lucienne. However, a busy schedule is no excuse. It is a reason, but not an excuse. He broke my heart that day. Said we were not friends. King of Dreams or not, Morpheus was mean.”

A sad, soft smile tugged at her lips. “If time means nothing to him, then it means nothing to me. I will wait for his apology.”

Lucienne sighed and pushed up her glasses. “You may have to wait quite a while, Y/n.”

Y/n grinned, holding up two fingers. “I’ve waited this long. What’s another couple hundred years?”

Lucienne smiled, shaking her head softly.

Y/n waved her hands. “Enough about Morpheus. Tell me, Lucienne. How are you?”

“I am well, Y/n.”

“That is not enough.” Y/n whined. “Tell me more! Any new interesting books?”

Lucienne raised an eyebrow and smiled. “Actually, there was a very interesting poem I read recently.”

Y/n’s smile turned secretive, her eyes bright. “Is that so? What did you think of it?”

“I loved it.”

Both women smiled at each other, both with secrets in their eyes.

Curious, yellow eyes watched them.

The Waking World was cold, lonely. The air pierced skin, a chill settling deep within Morpheus’s bones. He was immune to weather, and yet, could not help the shiver that ran up his spine.

Morpheus stood in front of a vaguely familiar building. His blue eyes narrowed at the figure moving about through the large window.

Morpheus watched Y/n walk around her library, tending to guests and readers.

He watched as she interacted with children, guided young girls to appropriate sections. He eyed the tall man who stood in front of the entrance, blocking the door.

Curious eyes watched as the man, one Dream recognized from The Dreaming. He stood rigid against the door, and Moprheus realized he was protecting it. A stir of emotions settled in his chest at the thought of Y/n needing protection.

Morpheus stood outside the library until nightfall, watching Y/n. He watched her as she laughed, sighed, and wrote. He could not see what she wrote, but when the quill was in her hand, nothing around Y/n existed.

She was in a realm of her own.

Once the library quietened, and people disappeared, Morpheus slipped into the shadows and hid between aisles. His heart beat loudly, and his fingers twitched. He had not been this close to Y/n as himself in a long time.

Morpheus had forgotten that although he was an Endless, his body resembled a humans. Nerves ate at his sanity, and he sunk into the shadows, glowing blue eyes watching Y/n.

Y/n carried a pile of books, tipping her head up to see where she was going. Once she reached the right shelf, she dropped the books onto the shelf, letting out a sigh. Stretching, she began to shelf the books, sliding them into their correct spot.

She had begun holding book clubs for women, and today had been her largest group yet. She realized that many of the townswomen did not know how to read, and some needed space from their husbands and family, so she gave them an escape.

There were a few girls living upstairs, in the empty rooms. Y/n could hear their muffled laughter and smiled to herself.

This is what she wanted. To help, to love.

Pushing the last book into place, Y/n clapped her hands, dusting them off.

“Alright,” she spoke, quietly. “Now, where is that little bastard?”

Y/n whistled, snapping her fingers. “Here, Nala.”

Y/n waited, hands on her hips. After a few moments, Y/n heard a quiet meow a few aisles over. Brushing off her dress, she made her way to her silly little kitten.

“Nala? Where are you, love?”

Y/n poked her head at every aisle until she found her Siamese cat sitting in the middle of a Romance aisle.

Shaking her head, Y/n walked towards her kitten. “A romantic, are you?”

Y/n smiled at her kitten before noticing the way she was sitting. Nala was looking into the shadows, her small head tilted sideways as her tail swayed.

Staring at the empty space before her, Y/n crouched down, petting the top of Nala’s head.

“What are you looking at, girl?”

Nala meowed again, and Y/n wished her Mother had granted her the ability to speak to cats.

A chill ran down Y/n’s smile and a familiar tug pulled at her heart. Her breathing hitched and she stilled.

“Is someone there?” Her voice was barely a whisper.

A tall, dark figure stepped out of the shadows and the world around them stopped. Y/n’s eyes stared at black boots, and traveled upwards. Her heart squeezed at the sight of a familiar black coat, stars hidden inside it. Her head tipped upwards and her breathing stopped when her eyes landed on a face she had yearned to see, one she had painted and written about.

Her muse.

Rigidly, Y/n stood. Her widened eyes traced every curve and dip on Moprheus’s face. Her lips curved upwards at the sight of his messy, black hair. His ebony skin glowed under the warm, yellow lights.

Y/n swallowed the lump in her throat, her eyes glistening. Her lips parted and as gently as a captain called to the sea, she felt Moprheus’s calling. His bright, blue eyes stared into her. A whirlpool of emotions danced in his eyes.

His soft, pink lips parted. “Y/n.”

Her name on his tongue was a prayer, the way a worshiper calls to a God. He spoke every syllable of her name, as if each letter was worth all the treasures in the world. Her name fell off his tongue like a burden one carried. His shoulders lightened, his eyes widened.

He said it again. A reminder, a promise. She was here, right in front of him.

Morpheus watched keenly as Y/n’s lips fell open and she whispered his name.

“Oneiros.”

It struck him, his name. The emotions and pain in her voice broke him. The way his name wavered on her lips, unbalanced him. As relieving as her name was to him, his name was trepidation on her lips.

“What are you doing here?”

Morpheus’s breathing had stilled, his eyes glazed and filled with emotion. When he appeared in the Waking World, he had not planned to apologize to Y/n. She pulled him to her, and before the Endless knew it, he was standing outside her library.

He raised his head, exhaling. An apology danced on his tongue and yet, when his lips parted, it died.

“There is a man standing outside your doors. Are you aware?”

Y/n’s expression fell, and her lips turned downwards. Before she could answer him, the library doors opened and the pair turned towards the interruption.

A deep, accented voice called out, filling the silence.

“Y/n? Darling? Ready to go home?”

Morpheus’s entire body went still, his eyes darkened and shadows crept onto him. He knew Y/n had lovers—partners—but the idea of a human man taking her home awakened something in Morpheus.

Something ill, sickening.

“Coming, love!” Y/n turned towards Morpheus, her eyes filled with conflict. She lowered her voice. “You must leave. He knows nothing, and I shall keep it that way.”

Morpheus heard something shatter in the distance, and with great displeasure, he learned that it had been his heart. He had taken a step towards mending the broken, and Y/n had taken several steps back.

“I…” Morpheus licked his lips, hesitant.

Y/n sighed, rubbing the space between her eyebrows. “I told you that I wished to never see or speak to you again.” Her eyes betrayed her and softened. “If you are not here to apologize, leave.”

They stared at each other. Stars stared at Y/n and she tried to find anger, a hint of annoyance in his eyes. Tension filled the space between them, millions of things unsaid tiptoed between them.

The sound of footsteps broke their stare and Y/n stepped back.

Crouching, she picked up Nala and turned away from Morpheus.

Walking away from him once again.

Morpheus raised his hand, unconsciously reaching for her. His fingers grazed the cloth on her shoulder as she walked away, and his hand fell.

He stepped back into the shadows, glowing eyes watching as the man he had seen outside smiled at Y/n, leaning down to press a gentle kiss to her forehead.

At the sight of her smile, one he had dreamed about, Morpheus fell back into The Dreaming.

Stone dug into Y/n’s elbows as she stared at the ships and dreams below her.

She stood on the bridge that connected Dream’s palace and the rest of The Dreaming. Dreamers stood around her, staring at the Sleeping Island and palace in awe. She relished in their amazement, finding solace in their wonder.

She inhaled, smiling at Martin Tenbones, a massive dog-like creature, as he explored a pirate ship below her.

Y/n heard a familiar cry, an elegant song, above her and looked up. Phoenix flew in circles above Y/n. She watched him with soft, sad eyes. A beautiful reminder of what she had gained and lost at his creation.

She had missed this. The magic of The Dreaming.

The wonder of it all.

After Dream’s visit years ago, Y/n had begun dreaming less. She forced herself to stay awake, finding companionship in the Waking World. She had missed The Dreaming greatly, but she could not handle the thought of Morpheus.

His visit had made her spiral. She had spent a long time coming to terms with the end of her relationship—association—with the King of Dreams and Nightmares.

The pain had become a dull ache, a wound that would never heal.

Leaning on the ledge of the bridge, Y/n tried thinking of things she would say to Morpheus if she saw him.

She knew she would. It had been her one wish before falling asleep tonight. She wanted to see him, speak to him. Give him the chance she denied him before.

“Think any harder and you may get some ugly forehead lines,” a familiar voice teased.

Y/n turned her head, raising her eyebrows at the nightmare. The Corinthian stood before her in his signature white suit, his hands in his pockets. His dark sunglasses stared back at her, a narcissistic smile on his lips.

“Know about them, do you?”

Smirking, The Corinthian walked up to Y/n. He leaned against the ledge of the bridge, facing the opposite direction. They stood shoulder to shoulder, a comfortable silence surrounding them.

Y/n had spent many hours with The Corinthian. She knew him, and he hated her for it. She had carved a space for herself in his personified heart, listening and spending time with him. He wanted humanity, and she was it for him. The closest he could get.

Reaching into her pocket, she pulled out a rolled up parchment. She stared at it for a moment before holding it out to the nightmare, hitting his arm with it.

The Corinthian looked down at the parchment.

“What is this?”

Y/n smiled. “A gift.”

His smirk faltered. The Corinthian had never received a gift before. Even he was not a gift, but a mirror, a challenge.

With gentleness Y/n had never seen, The Corinthian grabbed the parchment and unrolled it.

Upon the parchment was a painting; a man with blonde hair and a white suit stood with his back to the viewer, face hidden, he stared at the room before him filled with men and children, an ebony hand clocked in black on his shoulder.

The man in the painting was not alone, he stood at the brink of humanity, his creator standing behind him.

It was The Corinthians dream. One he had never said aloud, but conveyed in his actions, his words.

Y/n watched his expression with anxious curiosity. She had gifted her art many times before, but there was something different about gifting art to art.

“Do you… like it?”

The Corinthian said nothing for a moment. His hold on the parchment tightened and when he lifted his head, for the first time since his creation, he was glad he did not have eyes, for they would be glazed and teary.

Heavy with emotion, foreign and human, he nodded. “I do.” He licked his lips. “You painted this for me?”

Y/n nodded, smiling softly at his crestfallen expression.

The Corinthian was truly a dark mirror made to reflect humanity; he hated humans but loved them so passionately he wanted to consume them, he loved his creator although he despised him, and he craved power as much as he faltered at the sight of it.

“Sometimes, only art can take us to where we need to be.”

Rolling up the parchment, The Corinthian pocketed it. He vowed to protect it and hold it sacred for as long as he lived. Pushing his sunglasses up, he turned his head towards Y/n.

“Tell me, human. Would you gift me paintings if I became a killer?”

His words were spoken lightly, but the curiosity behind them was real. Y/n faced the water, her eyes on a mermaid that swam near the surface. She mulled over her answer, a hundred thoughts racing in her mind.

“Perhaps,” she finally answered.

“You would not hate me if I killed your kind? Ate their eyes?” The Corinthian moved closer to Y/n, his lips near her ear. He needed to instill fear in her, control the situation. “Terrorized humanity?”

Y/n did not move, nor did she falter. She had spent her fair share of time with men crueler than the nightmare. A human’s brutality could never compare to an unconscious thought. He did not scare her, as much as he tried.

“I don’t think I could ever hate you, Cori. Humans kill humans all the time. If a nightmare killed a human, it would be poetic.”

The Corinthian exhaled a laugh, her words fuelling a fire neither had noticed had begun. The air around him grew colder and the nightmare lifted his head, finding his creator staring at him with cold, blue eyes.

Pushing himself off the ledge, he straightened his suit and tipped his head.

“Until next time, trouble.”

Y/n smiled at him, snorting at the nickname. “See you, Cori.” She watched him disappear, and turned her head to face The Dreaming.

The hairs on Y/n’s neck stood and her spine tingled. She could feel his presence, smell his arrival in the air. Her breathing stilled as she waited, her fingers trembling.

“Y/n.”

Her name fell from Morpheus’s lips as if he craved it, raspy. It tugged at her heart. Biting her bottom lip, she slowly turned to face him.

With the ledge pressing into her back, Y/n lifted her head and drank in the being before her.

Morpheus stood tall, his hair a mess and coat the same. His pale skin glowed under the clear sky, but it was his eyes that captured Y/n’s attention. Blue, bright eyes stared at her, an eloquent emotion in them she could not decipher.

They were on her, traveling up and down until they settled on her face, searching, memorizing.

“You are here.”

All of Y/n’s initial anger and ache dissolved with that single sentence. It held every apology, every question, the very essence of every poetic rekindling known to man. It was soft, a plea.

Do not leave again, it said.

I am glad you are back, it whispered.

“I am.”

Her voice was the prettiest sound to ever reach his ears, and his eyes fluttered. He had longed to hear it, afraid she would never speak to him again. He often found himself leaning at the edge of his throne, listening for the sound of her laughter.

When Y/n had fallen asleep tonight, he felt her calling. His name reached his ears beyond hundreds of dreams, a quiet whisper of wanting. He set aside his duties, and vowed to apologize.

Five hundred years had been too many, and he could not stay away any longer.

Morpheus took one step closer and Y/n’s heart began beating rapidly, it rang in her ears.

“The Dreaming has missed you,” Morpheus said, quietly.

His eyes said something different: I have missed you.

Y/n’s lips lifted into a small smile. “I have missed The Dreaming.”

Her eyes said: I missed you.

He took a small step towards her, her chin tilting upwards to maintain eye contact. They stared at each other, millions of things going unsaid.

Y/n waited, held her tongue. She could see Morpheus’s struggle, the way his breath shook his shoulders. His lips parted, and Y/n felt herself lift off the ledge, eager for his words.

“My duty… my very purpose… it is crushing. Overwhelming.” He stepped closer, his deep, low voice wrapping around her heart.

“I am every dream, and every dream is me. I am responsible for every human’s sub and unconscious. For years, I have tried to push all that does not concern my realm behind me. Distractions are for the weak, and I am anything but.”

“Dream,” Y/n whispered. His words squeezed her heart, the admittance of his lonesome broke her heart.

Morpheus raised a hand, silencing her. His eyes were pleading. Let me say this, they said.

“If your feelings from the Barren have not changed then stop me at once, Y/n. I will never approach you again, you will never see or speak to me again.” His eyes were red, glazed with unshed tears.

He stepped closer, their air mingling. “If your feelings have changed, then let me be the first to say that I apologize for my behaviour, my words. You are a friend to The Dreaming.” The outsoles of their shoes touched. “To me.”

“Forgive me, Y/n.” Morpheus’s voice dripped like honey, soft. “I have heard that it is unkind to treat your friends the way I have.”

Y/n raised her hand, gently resting it on Morpheus’s forearm, soft black cloth separating their skin. She stared into his red-rimmed eyes, swearing to paint a sea the colour of his bright blue eyes.

“Morpheus,” she whispered. “You’re very good at apologizing. Have you done it much?” Her eyes twinkled, shining. At the sight of her smile, Morpheus’s lips twitched.

“I forgive you,” she said. Her voice turned wistful. “I am sorry I did not understand it before.”

Morpheus shook his head, unable to stomach her empathy. He wished she would have yelled, cursed him. Her acceptance, her forgiveness, felt unearned.

“You are not in the wrong, Y/n. I am.”

Dropping her hand, she smiled widely at him. “It is all in the past, yes? Do not burden yourself with this any longer, Morpheus.”

Morpheus’s lips trembled and he looked away, blinking. When he turned back, Y/n was still smiling at him and he basked in it.

“Would you accompany me on a walk?”

Y/n’s eyes disappeared as she smiled, and it physically pained him. He itched to make her grin permanent, unable to accept any other expression on her face.

“Always.”

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unlikely-gravestones · 2 years

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Lord "I have many names," Morpheus and Hob "I only need one." Gadling. Send tweet.

#The angst people give me the ANGST #Me frantically switching between using the full title of Lord Morpheus or Dream of the Endless for this #But fr I see it everywhere and I just NEED hob to say this #Just once I want to see it #He doesn't need a hundred different names #He just needs one true one #Sandman #the sandman #the sandman netflix #dream of the endless #hob gadling #Dreamling

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xmalereader · 2 years

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— Sorrow — || ONE ||

Lord Morpheus X God of Happiness! Male Reader

|| Masterlist ||

Authors Note: Finally! First chapter of this series too, just to let you know this one won’t always be a very cheerful one because I’ve got to add the angst into it and the dark secrets…not gonna lie I’m kind of shipping reader and Lucifer in this one 👀 for some reason I wrote their tension too good. Also, some tags don’t seem to be working, sorry am advance if you did not get the tag!

Summary: Reader, God of Happiness and Dream of the endless, king of dreams and nightmares have come to an engagement. Bringing to powerful beings together, but perhaps one of them still has a lot to share with the other. Readers brother Void seems to be stirring up trouble for the newly couple, perhaps some chaos and pain.

Warnings: Fluff, angst, reader goes by many names, Morpheus being a good husband and, tension with reader and Lucifer, void being an asshole, language, kissing, pain, dark past, past memories, chaos, sad reader, Greek mythology, mentions of amnesia, reincarnation, past lovers, marriage, gods.

Word count: 3.7k

—

News had spread quickly amongst both families, the endless hearing about their brother, Dream, getting engaged with the god of happiness while Sunny’s siblings hear of the great news too. Both Love and Gaia where happy for their younger brother, leaping with joy as they chattered about their brothers new future. Everyone was excited but Void.

Void had made slight amends with Dream but after finding out that his own brother was the one who asked for the dream lords hand in marriage he couldn’t help but grow a little furious, expecting the opposite from the two. He would be happy for his brothers love life if it wasn’t dream of the endless who was apart of it, anyone but him. Void never had the likes for Dream and for him to swoop in and take his brothers innocence was something he couldn’t allow.

He watched as his sisters cheered happily in the human realm, the three were enjoying their time together at the park where Gaia was mending some new changes and wished to show them, then they received the news about his brothers engagement, love is the first to turn to him as he leaned against a tree with arms crossed and a brooding look on his face while she smiles widely. “Aren’t you happy for Sunny? He’s finally found someone he loves!” She approached void, taking notice of his dark aura that surrounded him. Her own smile slowly fades away into a scowl. “Can’t you be happy for your brother?”

“I’m leaping with joy.” Void slumps down on the grass, crossing his leg over the other while laying his head back against the trunk as he enjoys the sun shining down on him, pulling out some sunglasses from his coat pocket and slipping them on, ignoring his sisters eye roll. “Void—“

“Love, my sister. Whatever business my brother has it’s all his. Don’t get me involved.”

Love has her hands on her hips, giving him a disapproved look as she shakes her head and says. “Sunny will be upset.”

Void tilts his head to the side a little, glancing at her and smirking. “Sure he will.” He turns back to focus on the sky while Gaia watched form a distance, not wanting to get involved with her siblings argument, knowing how bad it can turn out. Love turns back to join her other sister, the two leaving void behind while the ruler of chaos and darkness frowns deeply at the thought of his little brother being engaged to Dream.

—

Y/n didn’t expect himself to be visiting hell after centuries of not seeing his fallen angel. The last time he met up with Lucifer was during his first time spreading happiness and starting off with his duties. The first person he’s ever given happiness too was none other than Lucifer Morningstar, an angel banished from silver city and Y/n was their to offer the fallen angel a hand. Helping them back up to their feet and providing him a small smile of empathy.

Since he was the first to ever grow close with Lucifer he didn’t think that the fallen angel would still welcome him into their realm after years of no communication between the two. Throughout the years he’s heard rumors from demons and creatures that lurked the dark world that Morningstar had a short temper and wouldn’t hesitate to give anyone hell. He expect himself to go through the same thing for not taking to them for years but Lucifer never came after him or sent any of his demons after him.

It seemed that the fallen angel had stuck to their promise of not causing any trouble amongst the god of happiness without given a reason too. Now, he’s afraid that he’s giving the ruler a reason to come after him and perhaps torture him in many ways that are considered brutal and traumatic. The god of happiness shakes the doubt away, exhaling deep sigh before walking up the steps, entering Lucifer’s throne room as he watched him in awe as his fallen angel stands over their realm, watching the demons below as they chant their name.

Y/n’s steps are light but Lucifer can still sense him entering his throne room. The rulers wings flutter as they turn around, grin on their lips and dark eyes landing on the god. “Welcome, God of Happiness.” Their voice is smooth and charismatic, full of persuasion. “Your, Majesty.” He gives the ruler of Hell a small bow, his chin dipping down in greeting before lifting his head up high. The two stare each other down, the tension grows between them until Y/n ks the first to break it.

His face breaks out into a wide smile as he skips forward, hands behind his back as he stood only a few feet away from his fallen angel. “How are you today, Lucy?” His own voice is full of joy and wonder, causing the ruler to soften a little but still hiding it from anyone’s sight. No one could know that the ruler of hell had grown soft towards the god of happiness, their one and only true companion. Lucifer’s grin softens into a real, rare smile towards the other. “Y/n, I am doing well. Hell provides me a lot of work but it is my job and duty to fulfill them.” They respond back, their eyes looking at the god up and down, taking notice of the flower crown upon their head, made of real gold and silver a perfect fitting for the god.

“I see you’ve changed—how long has it been? Three hundred? Perhaps six hundred years?” They raise a brow as Y/n chuckles. “Around six hundred.” He clarifies. It’s been much longer since they’ve last met, he could’ve visited more often but the two had their own duties to accomplish.

“And I see that you’ve changed your appearance?” Lucifer quirks a brow, reaching up to graze their index around their crown upon their head, humming to themselves. “A god like you never wears such things, why now?” Their curiosity grows on them, wings spreading as they stand next to the god, using one wing to pull then closer and guiding them away from the throne room and through another set of doors that lead them to a much more open and private area.

Y/n follows close, next to Lucifer’s side as he sighs to himself, nervously fiddling with fingers. “I guess time does change someone.” He mumbled, keeping his eyes ahead as they continued to move forward. “Time does change someone but this is the first I’ve ever seen you change, Sunny.” Lucifer uses his other names to get his attention.

Y/n looks up to lock eyes with Lucifer, the fallen angel looking deep into his heart and soul as if he could read him like the back of their hand. It only takes a few seconds before the ruler finally gets it, finally knowing why he is here. “Something happened.” They blurts out. The two reaching a much large room, a table in the middle with demon servants setting up the table for the two and preparing their meals. Y/n swallows nervously as he makes his way to his usual spot, sitting on one end of the table while Lucifer takes the other end. The two sit down at the same time as stare at each other from a distance.

“I came to visit, not only as a social call, but as a friend.” Y/n starts, crossing his arms over the table and giving his angel a smile. “I’ve been wandering the human realm for years and doing my own duties alongside with my siblings, during my own journey and adventures I’ve encountered many new people, new traditions—!” He says with excitement. “During my time in the human realm I met someone who respected me and appreciated my gift. I guess you could say that I’ve fallen for them.”

Their dinner arrives, trays set in front of them as Lucifer clears their throat. Slim fingers taking the silverware, looking up with a faint smile. “At least your journey through the human realm is full of adventures.” They says, looking down at their own meal, cutting into the meat in front of them.

Y/n stares down at his own meal full of fruits and sweets. His first few times in hell he couldn’t quiet stomach the meat or the smell of rotten flesh, he didn’t want to offend Lucifer but the angel took notice of his disgust and ordered to have his meal removed and to be provided something to his liking. Ever since he started visiting, Lucifer always knew what to serve him and what was to his liking. The god takes a bite of his favorite meal, licking his lips as he says. “I am engaged.”

Lucifer nonchalantly takes a bite from their own meal, eyes lifting from their tray and to land on Y/n. “I know.”

“Oh.” Y/n taps his finger against his plate, cutting up some fruit and giving Lucifer another glance before adding. “Then you must know that I am to be Lord Morpheus Consort.”

This causes Lucifer to freeze, eyes slightly wide as they looked up to eye god, trying to find a hint of sarcasm or a hint of lying but he shows no signs. The God is tell the truth, he is to be married with Morpheus, Dream of the Endless, the Endless that Lucifer loathed with a passion and wished to bring Dream to his knees. To have him begging for mercy as he destroyed the dreaming and claiming it as there’s. Now this changed everything, Sunny was the one god he does not wish to hurt and now that he is to wed with Lord Morpheus, he has no choice but to try and make amends with Dream.

“That’s—very surprising news. Who knew that Dream of the Endless could love again after what he did to his first lover.” They grin, focusing back on their meal as Y/n tilts his head to the side. “Do you mean Nada?”

“So, he has told you. Poor soul, banished by their own lover into my realm for thousands of years.” They coo out in shame, frowning a bit as they set their silverware down. “I wouldn’t want you going through the same, what if Lord Morpheus banished you here too? I have rules that I cannot break, Sunny. If you were to be banished to Hell then you will stay here for eternity.” They don’t wish to frighten the god of happiness but a good warning wouldn’t be so bad. He deserved to know the truth of Dreams wrath and what the man was capable.

Y/n frowns. “Morpheus wouldn’t do that. He regrets sending Nada to hell for what happened between the two.” He spits back, defending the one they love. “Yes, he’s made some terrible choices that he regrets not just with Nada but with Calliope too. But, don’t you forget Lucifer. Not everyone is perfect, I’ve done my own far share of mistakes.” His voice grows dark, glaring at lucifer as he takes their words by heart, knowing the consequences but refusing to believe that Morpheus’ mistake would be repeated again.

“Mother and father didn’t like the idea of Happiness and Evil becoming friends let alone lovers.” Y/n points out to Lucifer, hitting a sore spot at the fallen angel. It was Y/n who rescued Lucifer during their downfall, offered them a hand and a smile that brought such hope in lucifer for the first time in eons. Y/n would risk his duties to meet with lucifer everyday, asking about their day and rambling on about their own duties. The god was happy around the fallen angel that it was him who fell in love with such dangerous beauty.

Lucifer, too, had fallen for the peace that he brought into his realm. But, the two knew that what they felt is something they could never have with each other. It was forbidden for the two and instead remained close friends who still reminded each other that they were their for anything.

Y/n had set his own silverware down, pushing his chair out and coming to a stand. He held his head up high as he sighs. “I wish to see you at the wedding but we both know that you are welcome into the dreaming or human realm. My only wish is that we remain friends after everything.” His voice quivers, afraid of losing what the two had after eons of being with each other.

Lucifer closes their eyes, inhaling softly as they speak. “Your wish is something sacred and important to me too. This marriage won’t ruin anything.” They reassure the god who gives them a faint sad smile, one that shows true meaning of their relationship.

Y/n knows that It’s time for his leave, giving Lucifer one last bow and goodbye before leaving Hell and returning back to the dreaming. He had promised Morpheus that he would visiting an old friend of his, still not brave enough to tell Morpheus about his past relations with the Ruler of Hell. His walk back to the palace is full of peace and silence, enjoying his own time before he enters the chaos of the other dreamers.

Matthew standing below Morpheus as he and Lucienne converse. “—my siblings are to not cause any disturbances.”

“Geez boss, can’t even invite your own family?” Said Matthew.

“Perhaps Death is acceptable but regarding the rest—I have a feeling that they will complicate things a bit and still need to come to terms that a new member is to join the family.” Morpheus clarified as Lucienne sighs. “Sir, it’s best to speak with your sister for further advice on this change.”

“You are right, Lucienne. Please send word to my sister and that I wish to speak with her.” He orders his librarian as she gives him a low bow before leaving the throne room. The Dream Lord was focused on his own thoughts that he doesn’t feel Y/n entering his chambers. It isn’t until Matthew caws at the new presences. “Look who’s back! How’d it go with your old friend, they coming to the wedding?” The raven flies onto his shoulder as Y/n smiles.

“I did speak with them and unfortunately, they won’t be able to make it.”

Y/n’s voice grows small and full of sadness. “But, it’s alright. They wish me luck and I’ve convinced them to give me a great gift.” His smile is back on his face, lightening up the mood a little.

“Bummer, maybe we can invite your siblings?”

“Love is already on the list along with Gaia, it’s only my brother who doesn’t wish to come.” He pouts. His brother void was always a stubborn child and loathed anything that included celebrations. He was never one for such big occasions, he wasn’t even there during his birth and his own parents had to drag him back home to at least see their little brother, which void later terrorized in the future. The two brothers always finding ways to fight and argue with each other.

“Perhaps their is a way to convince him.” Morpheus steps into their conversation as Y/n shrugs his shoulders. “Void is complicated to reach an agreement with.” Morpheus, hums to himself, hands behind his own back as he listens. “Will find a way to persuade your brother.”

“Just how will invite your own siblings too?” The god slips in, giving Morpheus a big smile but the Endless can only frown. His relationship with his siblings wasn’t too great and had a hard time dealing with them, including Desire and Despair, the rest he could handle well. “Will have to wait and see.” Y/n leans up to press a soft kiss to his pale cheek. “This doesn’t have to be something big, a simple ceremony and vows is good enough for me.” He reminds his lover.

Morpheus gives a rare smile. He’s held different weddings with his previous lovers and they were all simple too, but for Y/n he wanted things to be special for the god of happiness and wanted to reach his deepest desires and bring the light. “As you wish, my love.” Morpheus leans down to press their foreheads together, enjoying their small intimate moment before breaking apart.

“I have to continue my duties in the waking world, I’ll be back later tonight.” Y/n tells Morpheus, stealing another kiss from the Endless who smiles again, his fingers pushing back some of Y/n’s hair that covered his eyes. “Be safe, I’ll await in the dreaming for your return.”

Y/n gives Morpheus one last smile, helping Matthew down his shoulder as the raven flaps down onto the floor, staring up at the god as the two watch Y/n leave the palace. “Do you wish for me to follow?” Matthew chirps in.

“No.” Morpheus glanced down to Matthew. “His duties are to be done on his own, just how you are to remain by my side.” He reminds Matthews true duties as they allowed the god of happiness to resume with his daily tasks.

—

Y/n enters the human realm, arriving in the same location that he is to meet the rest of his siblings. The four of them usually meet near the country side where the four can speak freely and expose their own power without anyone noticing. He approaches the large tree that stood in the middle of the clearing, noticing his older brother sitting against it along with Love and Gaia scolding him.

“—he won’t be happy.”

“Who won’t be happy?”

His two sisters gasp in surprise as they turn around to see Y/n while void rolls his eyes underneath his sunglasses. “Nothing.” He gives him a large fake smile.

“Of course it’s something,” love shot back. “Void isn’t too happy about your engagement.”

Y/n sighs. “I figured—void why do you hate Morpheus so much?”

“Excuse me?” Void comes to a stand, dusting the dead grass off his dark clothing. “I don’t hate him Y/n,” he laughs out. “I loath him.” His face falls blank again, hands on his hips as Sunny rolls his eyes again. “Whether you like it or not this engagement is happening and you’ll have to get along with him.”

“Why?” His voice is childish.

“Why—? Because, I want you two to get along.” Y/n groans out.

Void hums to himself, looking anywhere but at Y/n. “Why marry an Endless? You and Lucifer seemed to have a better relationship then with the dream lord.”

“Void—“ Loves voice is quiet and stern, giving him a glare as she shakes her head. “That’s enough.”

“Does he even know?” Void challenged l, stepping forward as Y/n coward a little. His hesitation giving Void a clear confirmation as he smirks. “He doesn’t know,” he gasps. “And here I thought that relationships never held secrets, how would he react if he found out about your past relationship with the ruler of hell?”

“Void.” Love says again, but void ignored her. “Do you think he’d still stay by your side when he finds out that you shared the same love to a ruler that he himself hates, wouldn’t it be a shame if he knew that you were their bed warmer.” He whispers out, causing a reaction from Y/n as he shoved void back, glaring at his brother.

“No matter my past or his it’ll never stop the feeling that we have for each other.” He shot back. “But, you still love Lucifer.” Void shot back.

“Of course I do!” Y/n confessed. “But that doesn’t mean that I will take up then back after everything. Morpheus still loves Nada and Calliope but his love for them won’t change the way he loves me! Whether you like it or not void this engagement is happening and I cannot let you take this away from me! You always ruined everything that I had, took from me, stole from me! For once in my life let me be happy, let me find my own happiness without you getting in the way and causing chaos.” He shouts, letting out his anger to his own brother his other half as he steps forward to jab his finger against his chest over and over again.

“If you hate my happiness so badly then why don’t you take it away?! Just how you plague the darkness and loneliness in humans—“ he continued to jab on his words causing voids blood to boil.

“Y/n that’s enough, please.” His sisters plead but he continues to push.

“You will always cause grief and pain into everyone’s life because it’s who you are, you are the darkness in the souls of humans who wish to find that slight bit of happiness that only I can provide. Without me you are nothing, without us we are nothing, if I was never born. Mother and father would have never of let you free!”

Void snaps, growling in anger as he grips Y/n by the hem of his shirt, pulling him forward as he slams his fist against his face, stumbling back as the two sisters gasp in shock and froze in spot.

“I don’t need you to get my freedom.” Void hissed out, stepping up to pull Y/n up again, the god bellow him glaring in return. “Mother and father didn’t need another child to free me, they only took pity on a lonely star with no home.” Y/n’s glare softens, eyes glistening with tears as void shoved him to the ground. “I wouldn’t be surprised if Dream took pity on you. Perhaps your bewitchment of happiness got to the endless, tricking him into loving you.”

“That’s not true—“

“Please, brother mine, you’ll never find the happiness you deserve.” He gives him a pity laughter, his brothers worry and faded joy brings him wondrous feelings. “Never forget brother, your merely a child. This dream of yours will soon disappear.” Void reminds him, stepping back to cast his siblings one last look before disappearing.

——————————————————————————

Tags: @un-namedmalereader @byler4lifeblog @boulevardofgalaxies @fanficsforheartandsoul l @gaysimp614 @mfairycow

#male reader #lord morpheus x male reader #lord morpheus x reader #lord morpheus #dream of the endless x male reader #lord of dreams #dream #dream x male reader #the sandman x male reader #the sandman x reader #the sandman #series #god of happiness #angst #fluff and angst

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all-hail-draculaura · 1 year

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Once Upon a Dream

Valentine’s Day oneshot whoop whoop. Hope that you like it. No summary because I wanted it to be surprise as you read. Only thing I will give is that this is a Morpheus x lucid dreamer! reader. Based off the cover that Lana Del Rey sings in Maleficent. Listen to the song as you read.

Word Count : 765

Warnings : angst

Meeting him in your dreams, and being able to connect instantly. Like the stars aligned just for the two of you to meet. An accidental meeting, when you stumbled into him when you were singing at a small festival in the village of the Dreaming when you were lucid dreaming. Meeting eye to eye, there was a spark that lit in his eyes, and you knew it was love at first sight. How his blue eyes always seemed to pierce right through you. Oh, how they shined like twin stars in the night sky, for only you to long and observe. They always seemed to glimmer in your presence, making you feel like the only girl in the world.

Spending nights in your dreams, walking the vast land of Fiddler’s Green, always getting lost with him in the beauty of his kingdom. Always singing around on these journeys, creating music and poems about him and your love for him. He made sure to read all about you and your work in his free time, your books having many tabs from his favorites and him making you sing them for him. He called you his little songbird, and praised you after you were done, encouraging you to continue and create. Being with him, you always wrote your best work, he was your muse and just wanted to please him.

It wasn’t long before you professed your love for him, and him accepting it. Making sure you know that he will always love and worship you as his lover. Constantly finding a way to touch each other and giving affections, holding hands, his hands always finding a way around your waist, how your foreheads touched when he held you close, breathing in his scent as you held him back, giving him soft, peppering kisses all over his face that made him want more, how he would make you beg for more touches, endlessly giving into whatever you wanted.

You told him all the time of your own love for him, becoming patient over his antics and bursts, in time becoming a part of his routine, becoming his rock in his life.

It wasn’t until one night that he returned from his brother’s realm, he came into the library with fury. You went to go comfort him, but he needed to release his anger, and he released it onto you. Spitting out words that torn through your heart, making you question every decision you have ever made in the relationship. Tears falling from your eyes, “My love, surely you don’t mean the words you speak? I’m your little songbird, your rogue dreamer, your love.”

“You think I felt something for you? You’ve forgotten what I am. I am Dream of the Endless, and I do not need or care for anyone.”

It was like your world crashed down all around you, “You may pretend to loathe me Morpheus, but know this, I will always love you, and I am yours eternally.” you said leaving the Dreaming, never traveling ever again.

Feeling as though life had been drained from you, a part of you now gone. Finding it hard to create again, deciding it was best to create one last song for the Dream King that was once your muse, knowing he will regret his actions, but his pride will never let him come back to you. Completing the song, with full intent of knowing that he will read it, as he will reread the myriad of songs and poems you made for him.

He did find your song, reading the lyrics, stinging his heart, hearing the words being brought to life in his head, with only the voice that only you could project out into the world.

I know you, I walked with you once upon a dream

I know you, that look in your eyes is so familiar a gleam

And I know it's true that visions are seldom all they seem

But if I know you, I know what you'll do

You'll love me at once, the way you did once upon a dream

But if I know you, I know what you'll do

You'll love me at once

The way you did once upon a dream

I know you, I walked with you once upon a dream

I know you, that gleam in your eyes is so familiar a gleam

And I know it's true that visions are seldom all they seem

But if I know you, I know what you'll do

You'll love me at once, the way you did once upon a dream

This is my first time ever writing angst, so I do apologize if it isn’t good. I honestly could have done better on this, I will probably fix it later on. If you guys have any tips, I will greatly appreciate them. Also this is for sad girlies on Valentine’s Day, like me.

Taglist : @emarich7 @chantzmar

#dream of the endless x reader #morpheus x reader #lord morpheus x reader #the sandman x reader #the sandman x y/n #morpheus x you #morpheus x lucid dreamer reader #angst

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melancholypancakes · 1 year

Text

✨ Rewrite the stars ✨

Definitely reminds me a lot of Morpheus and Y/n

Just think about it 👀👀

Y/n and Morpheus are pinning for each other but Y/n fears the worst if she will end up like Nada and Morpheus won’t love her like she loves him.

Y/n refuses this love, refuses him because of her fears but he confronts her and tries to reassures her they are meant to be together and their relationship wouldn’t be like his and Nada.

Because Y/n isn’t nada and it’s not the same situation, but Y/n knows their relationship is forbidden for she is a mortal and he is an endless.

Y/n wants Morpheus that much she will admit, she wants to be his Queen and have a future with him but the cosmos won’t allow it.

Y/n would feel Morpheus hand holding hers as she attempts to run away, “Please…don’t punish yourself. Y/n I do love you I always will.” He says as she turns around with tears in her eyes.

“I love you too…but it’s forbidden as much as I want to be with you…to fall into your arms if only the stars were rewritten.” She whimpers.

Morpheus gets closer to Y/n, “ it doesn’t have to be that way…we can love each other. You may not able to be with me in the dreaming, ruling by my side not until your death but I want us to be together.” He says as he holds both of her hands.

Y/n tears fall slowly as she looks at Morpheus and blushes, maybe they could be together but not until her death will she truly be with him forever without the consequences…

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writing-fanics · 2 years

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𝕯𝖆𝖓𝖈𝖎𝖓𝖌 𝖎𝖓 𝖙𝖍𝖊 𝕸𝖔𝖔𝖓𝖑𝖎𝖌𝖍𝖙 𝔐𝔬𝔯𝔭𝔥𝔢𝔲𝔰 𝔵 𝔉!ℜ𝔢𝔞𝔡𝔢𝔯

chapter four: the wedding

«summary: it’s their wedding day and all the dreams and nightmare are intending»

«warning: Dream (yep again): implied sexual intercourse : honeymoon (Dream) : hinted future pregnancy»

Wedding Song / First Dance Song

previous chapter > Epilogue

(Y/n) opened her eyes, and as she sat up in bed a soft yawn escaped her lips. The blanket no longer covered her bare chest. A smile grew across her lips remembering last night's events. The passionate steamy kisses. Both on her skin and lips and the way he held her as they made love. It wasn't like it was in the dream she had no it was real. Letting out a breathless sigh she got out of bed. Walking into the closet she smiled, seeing her wedding dress. Her eyes began to water as the realized she's finally found the man of her dreams. Literally. Getting dressed in a morning gown.

She couldn't wait for what their future held. Maybe they'd have a couple of kids. Watch them grow up together. Then the realization hit her he's an Endless. He told her what that meant the moment he brought her here. How he's' lived for many years. While he stays young and living. She'll grow old and wither away. She wanted to spend the rest of her life with him, yes. But she wanted to spend more than that an eternity. Until the end of time. Even past the end of time.

There was a knock at the door and she made her way towards it, opening the door she smiled, it was Death. Who she became quick friends with when she found out, that she was going to become her sister-in-law. "How's my future sister-in-law?" Death asked, and (Y/n) smiled sadly.

"What's wrong?" Death asked as she entered the room and closed the door behind her, "I've just realized that I don't want there to be 'Till death do us part.' I don't want to leave behind the man I love." (Y/n) says, looking up at Death.

"I don't just wish to spend the rest of my life with him. But I wish to spend eternity." She says, and Death sits down beside her on the bed. "You wish to become immortal?" Death asked and (Y/n) looks up at her, "C-Can you do that?" (Y/n) asked, and Death could only smile.

"My little brother loves you more than anything, and just the thought of seeing his face when it's your time. Already pains me." Death says, and she smiled. "For my brother, I'll grant you immortality." She says, and (Y/n) smiles looking at Death.

"Now, let me see your wedding dress." She asked, and (Y/n) smiled walking towards the closet. She opened the door revealing the wedding dress inside, "It's gorgeous!" Death exclaimed.

"It belonged to my mother." (Y/n) says looking at the wedding dress fondly. Death remembered Martha L/n, such a kind, and caring woman, a soul she had to take too soon from the world. She'd just given birth to Lily and never had the chance to hold her newborn child. It broke Death's heart, to see the young (Y/n) crying as she held her mother's cold hand.

(Y/n) smiled as Death helped her get ready for the wedding. Doing her hair, and helping her to get the dress on. While occasionally shooing away Jessamy, knowing Morpheus is trying to see his beloved in her wedding dress before the wedding. It was almost time, and she had the wedding dress on and froze.

"I'm so nervous." (Y/n) says as she looks at Death, "It's going to be alright," Death says, giving her that friendly smile. "I can't wait to become a part of your family." (Y/n) says, smiling and Death, "You already were the moment my brother laid eyes on you," Death says, and (Y/n) smiled, taking a deep breath.

Lily sat on Susan's lap in The Dreaming; watching as the wedding between Morpheus and (Y/n). Lily gawked at how beautiful her older sister was in their mother's wedding dress. She looked like a princess ripped right out of a fairy tale. Morpheus couldn't stop looking at her in awe of his love. Yes, he's had many past relationships all of them turned sour. And he hopes and prays that she wouldn't become another. He wanted her to be by his side.

He noticed that her hand was shaking, wedding day jitters. Taking her hand into his own he squeezed it gently. Seeing the smile on her lips as she turned to look at him. Maybe all of those relationships turned sour just leading up to this. One where he'd met someone he could cherish forever. He wasn't going to make those past mistakes. He was determined not to lose her.

Lily walked down the aisle holding the rings on a pillow. Lilly smiled looking up at her older sister. Morpheus couldn't help but smile as he watched (Y/n) hugged her little sister. It wasn't long before.

'I do,'

(Y/n) pulled him into a kiss while everyone cheered. Susan and Lily ran over to (Y/n) hugging her, "You looked just like a princess." Lily says, looking at her older sister.

"You do as well!" (Y/n) exclaims, then the music began and she started dancing with her little sister. "Daddy is angry you left," Lily says, and (Y/n) frowned slightly.

"I know, he was going to make me marry someone I didn't want to marry. By the time he announced it. I'd already found the one." She says, and Lily giggles.

"It's true love!" She exclaimed.

"It is." (Y/n) replied, as the two sisters continued dancing. Morpheus eventually knelt down tapping Lily on the shoulders, asking her if he could dance with (Y/n). Lily nodded, not before giving him a hug catching Morpheus by surprise, she pulled back and ran over towards Susan.

"She likes you," (Y/n) says, smiling at her husband. "She is adorable." He says, and she giggled. (Y/n) smiled as she danced with her husband, "You are beautiful," He says, pulling his wife closer to him. "You are handsome." She says as she rubs her thumb across the palm of his hand as they danced.

Then suddenly the song Merry-Go-Round-Of-Life began to play. A gasp escaped her lips, as she looked up at him. The corner of his lips curled upwards into a smile. The lovers danced the night away in The Dreaming, to the song that played on the night they first met.

Morpheus picked her up bridal style. Carrying her down the hill of the garden he made her, and towards the small cottage while kissing her on the lips. She giggled, as he planted the occasional kiss on her neck. Once inside the cottage, they didn't even make it to the bed. Lying on the floor underneath a blanket, they'd pulled off the sofa. (Y/n)'s hair was frizzy and undone her neck covered in hickeys. She laid fast asleep on her husband's bare chest. His fingers gently ran through her hair.

The newly married couple spent the next twenty-seven years, cherishing every moment with each other. With dinner, love making, talking, dancing anything. Loving each other unconditionally. (Y/n) was excited for what the future would bring for them still. Especially, with the life growing inside her belly.

a/n: so 27 years later the year would be 1916.

Taglist

@nebulosa-reina @stygianoir @catcher11 @pinksirensong @all-things-fandomstuck

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eviesaurusrex · 2 years

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ᴛʜᴇ ꜱᴀɴᴅᴍᴀɴ ᴍᴀꜱᴛᴇʀʟɪꜱᴛ

ʟᴏʀᴅ ᴍᴏʀᴘʜᴇᴜꜱ

ɢʀɪᴇꜰ

In the wake of his own capture, his queen was imprisoned too (angst)

“ɪ ᴛᴏʟᴅ ʏᴏᴜ ɪ ᴡᴏᴜʟᴅ ꜰɪɴᴅ ʏᴏᴜ.”

After being killed by Roderick Burgess during her attempts to free her husband, YN returns to Morpheus shortly after he himself reincarnated (fluff) Pt. 2 to Grief, but can be read on its own!

headers by the amazing @theronina

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withoutyouimsaskia · 2 months

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Sometimes It's Fated (Sandman Short Story Part 1)

Part 2 | Part 3 | Part 4

GIF: Originally posted by @tavners

Pairing: Morpheus/Dream of the Endless x AFAB reader

Warnings: Minors DNI. Dark!Morpheus. Soulmates. Angst. Obsessive and possessive behaviour. Tension. Home invasion. Voyeurism. Implied masturbation. Dream manipulation.

Word Count: 2.6k

A/N: Wow, this took way longer to finish than I had originally planned. My head's been all over the place with trying (and thus far failing) to find a new job. The themes are very different to what I've written before; I hope it reads okay. Please let me know what you think. All my love, Saskia xx

Sandman Masterlist

---------------------------------------------

Fate.

A phenomenon that governed every particle of matter within the known universe and even those beyond.

Some considered it a comforting concept that excused them from the burden of decision making, citing: "I'll leave it up to fate." For others the phrase was a cursory, throw-away comment or a romantic line they heard in the lyrics of a song.

The real truth of the matter was that Fate was a trio of immortal beings, goddesses, with sight so potent that they knew the past, present and future of every individual to have lived. The mythology of the Greeks, Romans and Norse hadn't been too far off with their stories of the Moirai, Parcae and Norns but of course, no humans really believed there to be any realism in myths. They were just stories. It didn't matter either way; they existed and had influence regardless of what the majority believed.

For beings such as The Endless siblings, the presence of Fate in the cosmos was not only real, but also something that affected even themselves.

For the King of Dreams, an eventuality had been prophesised long ago by The Kindly Ones that spoke of a bond that was to be forged between himself and a mortal.

Lord Morpheus, in his pride, had tried to be above such a foretelling, even questioning its validity because the notion of a mortal accepting his version of the universe seemed wholly implausible.

But he could not truly stop himself from wondering about you, reaching out to see if he could feel your presence in the minds of the dreamers he hosted.

It wasn't something he indulged in with frequency. More of a once-in a-decade interval. Enough to appease his curiosity.

Of course, this was put on hold during his imprisonment at Fawney Rig.

Morpheus had had much to contemplate during this period. The damage his absence caused to the collective subconscious, the decay of his realm, the loss of freedom and dignity. There was also a chance that you had been born and died in the 106 years he spent in captivity.

What if he was too late and had lost the chance of discovering who you were?

It was a nauseating prospect that scraped and scratched a space deep within his being; bleeding him of his remaining stores of hope that were so significantly depleted after the death of beloved Jessamy.

Despite the nasty emotional wound, finding you was a charge that he assigned at the end of his priorities after his escape.

Recovering his scattered tools, restoring the Dreaming, locating his absent creations, unravelling the mystery of Rose Walker and confronting Desire all had needed to come first.

The latter interaction had left Morpheus with a seething rage that was currently propelling him down the boards of the dock that sit above the Ocean of Dreams.

The dense mist in the air is buffeted by his movements and the only sounds are the tread of boots, the creak of wooden slats and the lap of water.

With each step, the liquid becomes choppier as it reacts to its master's mood and by the time he has reached the end of the dock, the surface of the water roils fervorously, completely in line with Morpheus' dangerous temperament.

The words of Desire's final silken-toned taunt echo in his mind with grating persistence.

"Oh, poor Dream. I really got under your skin this time, didn't I?"

He is loathe to admit there is truth in the question.

There are moments where Morpheus ponders the turn that the relationship between them has taken. How Desire went from being his favourite sibling to someone one shade shy of an adversary. Their faultless adeptness at provoking his temper and manipulating the events that encircle him would be impressive if not for the danger posed to humanity.

The agitated water eventually draws focus to how out of control he and his emotions have become. Morpheus knows he must get them in check, and quickly, for he knows the consequences all too well should he ignore it.

He clenches his fist and swallows it all down, pushing it deep inside his belly until the crackling entropy of the anger is fully dispelled.

Morpheus then sweeps his coat out behind him as he sinks lithely into a crouch. Trepidation nips at his heart and tugs his attention to a sobering thought.

This foray into the water may be fruitless.

You may be long gone and there would be no way of ever knowing you.

His nostrils flare as he takes a deep breath; he has run out of excuses to not look, even if he is afraid of the outcome.

Long, delicate fingers dapple the surface of the inky ocean. The waves still at the touch, obedient to him with instancy.

He repositions to full height and reaches into his coat to find the pouch of sand stashed in the pocket. A handful of twinkling grains slip off his palm into the ocean, lighting the water it touches to a luminous green.

"Find my soulmate," Morpheus commands silently.

The intention is set. He steps off the dock into the water.

At first, like every other prior attempt, there is no sign of you. Morpheus floats submerged in the tepid liquid, filtering through the hubbub of countless other dreams and nightmares.

Then there is a pull.

It is faint yet indisputable. Warmth explodes in his chest and he groans inwardly from the delicious sensation of relief.

You are alive, and you are dreaming.

A path of radiance appears in the water, a line that shows your connection, and provides a location for him to hone in on.

Morpheus dives deeper without hesitation.

As he reaches the edge of your subconscious, he rejoices that he got a handle on his emotions. He wouldn't want your first perception of him to be one tinged with rage, however unaware you were of him, with your soulmate being the source.

He hesitates for a moment before entering the dream you are in and is somewhat taken aback by what he finds.

A room comprising of four blank walls, a floor, a ceiling and a door. There is but one other feature; a window, and its view is as non-descript and inoffensive as the internal space.

You stand by said window, head turned from him.

Despite being unable to see your face, he sees your anxiety with immediacy. It is an aura hovering about your body, being sucked into your lungs with every fast-paced breath.

You begin to throw glances towards the door. Morpheus filters through the layers of the dream. No one is scheduled to come across the threshold.

The more he observes, the more questions arise in Morpheus' mind.

What was making you so affected? What were you expecting to happen?

There's nothing in the scene that is intended to be unpleasant yet you are reacting in a way that most observers would characterise as unsettled.

Morpheus, despite not yet knowing you, doesn't like to see you this way. His dominant instinct is to end the dream but he quashes the desire to review the bigger picture.

The empty room dream was symbolic of a beginning.

It clicks into place.

What you were feeling, even if on a purely instinctual level, was the anticipation of meeting your soulmate and starting your new life.

Morpheus steps into the frame, just a couple of paces behind you.

You feel his presence instantly, eyes full to the brim with tears as you whirl around with a soft gasp.

You see him.

The tears spill and patter onto the white floor.

Morpheus reaches out, overcome by his need to provide comfort.

You disappear.

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Morpheus is sat on his throne. He pores over the book he had located in the Dreaming's library a little over a week ago that contains the details of your life. It is something he has taken to doing when the impatience of waiting for you to fall asleep becomes too keen.

Your subconscious has him enraptured, watching it every night as if it is a stage show. Each dream he delves into is like the tug of fingers on a loose thread, your psyche has begun to unravel before him.

Everything from whims to cravings, hopes to fears. Your temperament, the things that delight and irk you. What drives you and demotivates you. He consumes it all with an insatiable hunger.

Based on the projection of yourself that he sees, there is no doubt that he is attracted to you.

All that prior haughty disregard for the Fates' prophecy has been cast aside like a negative thought in a meditation session. Morpheus is a romantic. A believer. He is ashamed to have even doubted your coming.

He wonders if it would vex Desire to learn of him finding his soulmate and by extension, the prospect of companionship, perhaps even physical intimacy or love.

It is all too easy to imagine the sickly sweet grin they would smile at him, shown to be fake by the almost imperceptible contempt glinting in their golden eyes.

Would his triumph drive them to distraction?

It is this smug sentiment that spurs his next decision. He wants more. The next logical step is to find you in the waking world.

He rises from his throne, a sure hand ready to bring forth his pouch of sand when he falters.

Tears pool in his eyes.

His mind is suddenly marred with the memories of what happened in 1916. The agony, mortification and rage that followed. He couldn't go through that kind of treatment ever again and the waking world expanded the risk of it transpiring.

"No," he says resolutely. His sadness turns to resolve, the hard line of his grimace matching those set in his brows.

He will not let the actions of a group of mortals dissuade him from going to you. And besides, he has researched everything he can about you from within the safety of the Dreaming.

He takes a measure of sand and uses it to materialise within your bedroom.

It is obvious from a quick scan of it that deliberate attempts have been made to ensure the space is cosy and calming.

Two marshmallowy pillows support your head. The cotton sheets have been meticulously tucked to avoid drafts. A lavender reed diffuser fragrances the air with a subtle scent. There are no devices or screens visible.

Everything has its place. A coaster supported glass of water within reaching distance. Touch activated lamp in case of emergency. The diary lined up with the back left corner of the bedside table, pen placed parallel in the spine dent. All clothes are in the wardrobe or stashed in the laundry basket.

Morpheus moves to the curtain-shrouded window and delicately moves the dark, heavy fabric to catch a glimpse of the outside world.

The scene is sepia stained from an old streetlight positioned right outside your home. It explained the choice of curtains.

You stir slightly from the change in environment and Morpheus allows the curtain to fall back in place. He remains stationary until your breathing returns to its previous pace. It is imperative that his presence remains undisclosed. He knows that mortals do not take well to home invasion.

Then, your right hand slips out from the duvet cocoon revealing a cushion cut ruby ring on your middle finger.

He smiles exultantly. The similarity between the jewel and his own now-destroyed dreamstone was undeniable.

The Fates were making it transparent.

You were the one.

Morpheus approaches the side of your bed now. In your momentary discomfort, you had moved your head, making your whole face visible to your uninvited guest.

He bends gracefully so his face is closer to yours and observes you with an intent fascination.

Even in the gloom, Morpheus asserts that your features are even more captivating now that he is able to look upon them in person and is certain that if he could guarantee an absence of fear then he would fall to knees and worship you right there.

Fingers stroke a lock of hair splayed across the pillow and his thoughts turn darker still, imagining what he would do with you if he could get you alone in the Dreaming. How he would seduce you with words, and then pleasure your body with his own until you were senseless.

Getting you there would be so easy, all he needed to do was move his hand up and touch your skin and -

Morpheus stops himself, deciding that now is not the time for an introduction. He will wait until tomorrow. You need to rest. It will be quite the revelation for your sweet mortal heart.

Morpheus whispers a promise, "We will be together soon, my precious soulmate."

He leaves after taking one last look at your peaceful form.

When he returns to the Dreaming, Morpheus discovers that the visit has riled him way beyond what he thought possible.

It was supposed to sate his curiosity and answer some questions.

It has done the opposite.

His craving for you is sublimely intense, opiate-like in its ensnarement.

He needs to possess you. To have you all to himself. Everything would fall into place. Loneliness, disillusionment, jealousy; they would never darken his outlook again. You would heal him, he is certain of it.

He paces restlessly in the low light of his private chambers as heat ripples beneath the surface of his being, charging him with pure sexual lust.

He hungers for the moment when you feel the same about him.

For now, all he can do is stand and touch himself while thinking of your face, an act that has been carried out repeatedly in the days since he found you in the Ocean of Dreams.

An erotic idea enters his mind.

Your subconscious is still in the Dreaming; he knows the feeling of it intimately.

Perhaps he could bring you a dream mirroring his own current fantasy.

To give you a taste of what was to come.

A gift that only he could bestow.

The mere thought of it turns him on even more. His back arches and his eyes roll back as he choses the words through which he would deliver the offering.

"Dream of me," Morpheus murmurs breathlessly. "Dream of me."

He repeats the phrase until he is unable to continue, moans taking over the darkened space around him.

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It is dusk the next day when Morpheus returns to the waking world.

The instant he touches down on the Earth's surface, he knows exactly where to go. The metaphysical connection between you is as strong as the energy pulsing through a ley line.

The city he is directed to is thrumming with life but the side street he stands in has been spared from the furore.

It is fortuitous that he is permitted to be unobserved for Morpheus is struggling now with the urge to get closer.

Providence is pulling him in and also locking him out.

He walks up to the door and then an invisible force makes him back away.

He doesn't even try to fight it.

The Fates hold all the cards. Morpheus is beholden to their each and every whim.

It is surprisingly liberating.

He is dancing in the cross hairs. Blinkered by the tie the universe has fashioned for you.

All he has to do is wait.

The door to the building is pushed open.

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Taglist: @herfantasyworldd

"Fate. Up against your will. Through the thick and thin. He will wait until you give yourself to him."

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thebigsl33p · 1 year

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Emotional Affair, Overly Sincere

A/N: All of the fics I've read have a reader who's so willing to welcome Dream back and I want a reader who is so fucking angry that he left that they're blinded by rage and they're so perfectly mortal so here it is

Y/N had been a part of The Dreaming for as long as she could remember. Once upon a time, she was a lost soul, wandering Death's realm with no concern for the laws of the universe, and eventually, she was placed into the care of The Dreaming.

At first, the ruler of the realm was reluctant to take her in, not feeling the need to have another problem on his already full hands. But upon observing the mortal woman he found that she slotted into place next to Lucienne in the library just perfectly, and that was where she stayed.

Morpheus spent a lot of time in the library, and more often than not Lucienne was busy categorising books and such. So he'd go to Y/N for help in finding something. She'd be happy to assist him, grinning from ear to ear with mortal joy as she found the book or scroll he had asked for.

In return he'd ask about the books she liked to read when she was alive and she would start off on her favourite books, suggesting and recommending title upon title. Morpheus found her enthusiasm endearing.

And that's how an overexcited mortal woman and Dream of The Endless became friends. While Morpheus would rather the word "companion" they were friends nonetheless. They spent whole weeks together walking through Fiddler's Green, creating new Nightmares and Dreams, reading to one another, or just sitting in mutual silence. It was a friendship that made Y/N enjoy (after) life and made Morpheus realise just how adventurous and wonderful Mortals could be.

But everything changes the day Morpheus disappears. She remembers that day with ease, how she had wished him well and as she had said the words there was something else in his stance and eyes. Something more than friendship...

He had leaned down, took her hand, and gently kissed her knuckle, "I shall return to you within seconds." he had promised before throwing on his Helm and disappearing in a whirlwind of sand.

...But he never returned. He never came back.

Within three months of the Dream Lord's absence, the Dreaming began to crumble and decay, Dreams and Nightmares fleeing from their homes and parts of the realm disappearing. The only people who stayed were Y/N and Lucienne, the librarians of the dreaming. And when the library disappeared, they found themselves stranded.

Y/N's attitude began to change. Once a happy and cheerful woman, she became harsh and cold to everyone but Lucienne. She let her anger consume her and by the end of it all, she was a completely different person. She had split off from Lucienne to live somewhere else in The Dreaming, a place that had appeared overnight with no explanation.

It was a forest, dark and threatening, wary of visitors to all but Y/N. Just looking at the place from the castle balcony made Lucienne's stomach turn and she watched as the figure of Y/N walked through her garden every morning and every evening...until he returned.

Upon Morpheus' arrival to The Dreaming, he explained all, his imprisonment, his captors, and his regrets. Some of the first words out of his mouth were, "What of Y/N?"

"She-" Lucienne falters before picking back up, "She lives just outside what's left of the dreaming. Really, the area shouldn't exist but I think her anger fuelled its creation." she theorises aloud.

"Anger?" Morpheus asks, walking with Lucienne through the winding streets of his city.

"...She hasn't been well." Lucienne sighs as they reach the start of the forest. It parts willingly for Morpheus and Lucienne was sure she could follow him in but...she's not sure she feels like it, "Good Luck, my lord." She whispers and then he is gone.

Morpheus' return comes as a shock to Y/N. She feels a presence in the dreaming and presumes it's Lucienne's doing, but when the Lord of Dreams is standing in front of her she is taken aback.

"This place isn't good for you. It's feeding off your anger." this is the first thing he says and she knows he means well: I care for you, let me help your wellbeing, but she doesn't see rationally.

"I have a right to be angry, Morpheus."

"I know-"

"You left. You left us, you left me." The words cut through him like a searing knife and he forgets who he is for a minute.

His eyebrows scrunch together and his words quieten, "I know. I'm sorry."

"Sorry." She doesn't look up from where she's sitting in her garden as she spits the words back at him, "Lucienne and I waited for two hundred years, you finally return, and the best you can do is sorry? For Fucks sake, Dream, I loved you! I loved you and you promised me you'd be back and then you weren't!" She's standing now, so close to him he can see the tears forming in her eyes, "God...it took me so long to realise how I felt about you, it's a shame it hit me after you'd abandoned your realm." She throws at him.

She turns her back to him, "Being mortal is so...overwhelming at times. You feel everything." She tilts her head to the sun in the sky, "I waited for you, every night in this garden, to see if you would descend from the cosmos."

"I was captured," He explains and guilt hits her like a truck.

There's a beat, a minute's silence for the regret of her words to fester, before she speaks, "I'm sorry." it's somewhere between a whimper and a whisper and it's all he needs to take her into his arms and hold her close, finally with the woman he thought about every single day for two hundred years.

#dream of the endless X reader #morpheus X reader #the sandman X reader #anrgy reader #angst #angst with a happy ending #lord morpheus X reader #dream X reader #thebigsl33p

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zoeysdamn · 2 years

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I know exactly what I'm doing

(my heart shattered too while writing it, don't worry)

#Do it for the angst #there shall be night series #why am i doing this #no beta we die like men #dream of the endless #dream of the endless x reader #dream x reader #morpheus x reader #reader insert #the sandman #the sandman netflix #morpheus #lord of dreams #morpheus imagine

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pingguins · 2 years

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When Dreams Despair

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

↳ Navigation | Series Masterlist | Next Chapter

Dream of the Endless x F!Reader

Word Count: 9.1K

Warnings: Cursing, drowning (kind of)

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

Summary:

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

* * *

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

This time, however, it called to her.

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

* * *

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

But perhaps it did not need to be that way.

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

“Hey! Everything okay? How’s Amelia?”

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

“Sweet dreams, dad.”

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

“My little daydream” he would call her.

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

Instead, she dove in.

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

“Only you can see me,” she mouthed.

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

***

“I think they’re true—the rumours.”

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

But perhaps she was wrong.

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

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

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

“Yeah?”

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

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

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

“I changed it.”

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

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

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

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

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

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

She wondered if she could see them someday.

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

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

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