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daddyjackfrost · 2 years

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Chapter 3: Welcome to The Dreaming

╰┈➤ ❝ [stay with me ; morpheus ] ❞

morpheus x fem!reader

warnings: third person pov, 8k+ words (wtf), lots of morpheus in it (ur welcome), don’t think too much about the politics of it

read chapter 4 here

stay with me ; masterlist

The King of Dreams sat on his throne with all the regalness a King ought to have. His throne room was dark, the only light came from his stained windows, the murals taking shapes of his most recent dreams.

A census laid in his lap, forgotten and untouched. Earlier, he had asked Lucienne for an updated census, using it as an excuse to better know his residents.

It was easier to know them through Lucienne’s words, her effort, than his own.

A quiet hum vibrated through his mind, his heart. It had begun many years ago, and he could never seem to quieten it. He had become used to it, a comforting tune that was his. It lulled him to sleep, and the King of Dreams did not sleep. Today, the hum was stronger, louder.

A firm knock interrupted his comfortable silence. Opening the census to a random page, Dream straightened his posture. “Enter,” he called out.

Lucienne pushed open the throne room door, bowed, and walked to the center of the room. Her brown eyes fell on the census she had given Dream hours ago.

“My Lord,” Lucienne smiled. “Are the findings to your satisfaction?”

Lucienne had asked with a smile and no ill intentions, but Morpheus knew that his perceptive librarian could sense the lie on his tongue. He was Endless, but his facial expressions were not so easily concealed.

“Yes, Lucienne.” Morpheus shut the book. “Well done.”

Lucienne’s smile widened for a moment before it turned professional. She knew Morpheus lied, but she also knew her work was well done, and when the time came, her Lord would appreciate her effort.

“Before I forget,” Lucienne started, “a new book appeared in the library this morning.”

Morpheus raised an eyebrow, curious. “What about?”

Humans had begun to get creative, imaginative. He loved reading new works by humans, works he knew his dreams and nightmares had inspired.

Lucienne’s smile stretched. “You. Me. The Dreaming. Y/n will write a book about her visits in The Dreaming. I believe it will be well written. All her other books are.”

Lucienne was correct, of course. All of Y/n’s works had been beautifully written. He would never admit to it, but Morpheus had read them all.

Her words spoke to him in ways no dream could.

At the mention of her name, the humming loudened in Morpheus’s ears, before he released a small breath.

“I see. Speaking of Y/n,” Morpheus turned to his right, staring at the statues that lined his walls, “is there any more information on her?”

Lucienne shook her head. “Unfortunately, all remains the same. However, only five years remain until your vis— ”

Lucienne was cut off by a quiet tear in the fabric of The Dreaming. Her words died on her tongue as the humming around Morpehus grew louder until it rang in Lucienne’s ears as well. The throne room shook briefly before a muffled hmph was heard.

Lucienne’s eyes fell on the crouched figure before her. Dropping her hands, she ran to Y/n. Resting a light hand on Y/n’s back, Lucienne bent her knees slightly.

“Y/n? Oh my goodness, are you alright?”

Y/n stood straight, stretching her arms. Her eyes adjusted to the darkness before settling on Lucienne’s concerned face. “Lucienne?” Y/n whispered. Her eyebrows lifted and she smiled widely. “How lovely to see you!”

Lucienne dropped her hand from Y/n’s back and stepped back, smiling lightly.

“Pleasure is all mine.”

From the corner of her eyes, Lucienne watched Morpheus stand to his full height. The temperature in the throne room dropped, and the chills on Y/n’s arms captured her attention. Turning away from Lucienne, her eyes roamed the throne room, taking in the beautiful architecture. Her eyes paused on the hanging statues and murals.

Finally, Y/n’s eyes fell on a tall, dark figure. A shadow of a man faced her, stars for eyes stared into her, and the familiar pull of her heart tightened.

With a gentleness that had yet to be graced in Dream’s throne room, Y/n whispered the name that haunted her waking life and had become the object of her dreams.

“Oneiros.”

Y/n’s tongue caressed every syllable of his name, tasting every memory they shared. Her eyes were wide with curiosity and delight. Although the room was wide, large, fit for a King, Morpheus had never felt so small. There was a secret in his name he had yet to learn.

Lucienne stepped back, observing the exchange with narrowed, intrigued eyes. She had not heard that name in quite a long time. It reminded her of her place.

Morpheus stepped forward, into the light. His eyes remained on her, watching her every reaction, counting her every breath. He walked down the steps slowly, tauntingly. He had not even the slightest clue as to how Y/n could have appeared in his throne room. It was impossible.

His black robes trailed behind him. Morpheus could hear Y/n’s short breath. As he neared, the hum between them roared, demanding to be acknowledged.

Y/n watched the man she had dreamed of walk towards her. His facial characteristics lingered between human and regal but also something old, ancient. His expression remains stoic, not an emotion behind those icy blue eyes. His dark raven hair hangs over his forehead, and in the light, he looks like a dream.

Stepping off the last step, Morpheus stands almost ten feet away from Y/n but the distance feels less. She can feel his power wrap around her, vibrate against her skull. There is no doubt in her mind that the being before her is the same being that visits her every century, but his presence feels different here.

Powerful and alive.

Halting, Morpheus stood as still as a statute. With hidden wonder, his eyes danced across Y/n’s face. A few scratches had scarred on her right cheek, and her jaw was discolored. He knew humanity was cruel to those it did not understand, and Y/n seemed to be a victim.

“Y/n.”

Morpheus’s voice was low, raspy, and it vibrated against her spine. Her name carried through the throne room until it melted on his tongue. His stare burned her, his eyes unwavering as he took a slow step toward her, measured.

Y/n’s breath hitched as Morpheus neared. She could hear her heartbeat in her skull, pounding until she blinked.

“You have returned.” His words were spoken gently, but his eyes were hard and his nostrils were flared.

Y/n smiled, knowing that a smile was all she could offer. “I have. Though… I did not expect to see you.”

Morpheus’s eyes narrowed slightly. He tilted his head, studying her. “No?” His words felt luring. “Tell me, Y/n.” He took another slow step toward her. “What brings you here, to my throne room? To my palace?”

Y/n’s eyes widen and her lips part in surprise. “Your palace?”

Lowering her eyes to the floor, Y/n takes a moment to think. Morpheus watches the gears in her mind work, the way she licks her lips and narrows her eyes. He cannot seem to look away, enamored by the transparency of her emotions.

“Lord Morpheus.” His name is a prayer on her lips, a welcomed praise. “You’re Lord Morpheus. The King of The Dreaming. Aren’t you?”

Morpheus nods, once. He takes another step closer. “I am the King of Dreams. Ruler of Nightmares. I am Lord Morpheus, Dream of The Endless. This is my palace.”

Y/n mouths his name, his title, and Morpheus watches. Y/n lifts her head and meets Morpheus’s hardened gaze. “I’ve finally found you, Morpheus.”

Morpheus takes another step closer. Her breath tickles his chin. Standing close, Morpheus tipped his head to the side, studying the woman before him. At their closeness, Y/n remembered the first time he had found her, many years ago. He had taken her hand and pulled her up. Y/n wondered how it would feel to take his hand instead.

“Yes, human, you have.” Lowering his voice to match shallow thunder, Morpheus asked, “Tell me how.”

Before Y/n could answer, someone cleared their throat and broke the spell Morpheus and Y/n had been under. Stepping away from her, Morpheus looked up and found Lucienne and Merv watching him. Y/n turned her head and let out a small laugh, walking away from him and towards Mervyn.

Y/n paid no attention to the way they looked at her. She stopped in front of Merv, a smile on her face. Merv looked away from Morpheus and looked down at Y/n, a reluctant smirk on his face.

“Hey, kid. Happy to see you.”

“Thank you, Merv. It’s wonderful to see you. How are the repairs going?”

Merv shrugged. “They’re going. If you got time you should come visit me. I’ll show you around.”

Morpheus watched the exchange with heated, conflicted eyes. A woman who had met the pumpkinhead twice had more of a relationship with him than his creator.

“Lucienne. Mervyn. Leave us.”

Lucienne bowed, unable to meet Morpheus’s eyes. She had never seen her Lord behave the way he did. The passion between Dream and Y/n had left Lucienne in awe, and it left Merv with something to talk about.

Merv and Lucienne turned and walked out of the throne room. As the doors shut, Y/n stiffens. She had been alone with Oneiros before, but that had been before she began to dream. Before she realized she missed him. Before she realized he was a King, an Endless with a realm.

Y/n turned to face Morpheus. He stood tall, still. His raven hair was wild, his alabaster skin glowed, and his soft pink lips were turned downwards.

Taking a step towards him, Y/n could not help but stare at him. He was breathtaking, beautiful.

“Answer my question, Y/n.”

Y/n smiled. “Play a game with me.”

Morpheus took a small step towards Y/n. His head seemed to tip on its own until their eye levels matched. “This is not a game, human. This is my realm. And you will answer my question.”

Y/n held her breath. If she breathed, it would tickle Dream’s face. Staring into his eyes, she noticed the way stars danced within his irises. “Pity,” she whispered. “I love games.”

Morpheus held her gaze for a prolonged moment before dropping it to her lips. She was biting her bottom lip, and it was distracting. His eyes studied her face before looking back at her.

“You want to play a game? Very well, human. We shall play a game.”

Morpheus straightened, creating distance between them. His hands were behind his back and he stood with the grace of a King. “Answer my questions honestly, and I will answer yours.”

“Promise?”

Morpheus exhaled. “I am an Endless. Have you any doubt of my honesty?”

Y/n shrugged. “You never told me you ruled a realm. You lied.”

“I did not lie, human. You simply did not ask the right questions.”

Y/n stared at him with pursed lips, a laugh behind them “Or maybe, you answered them too simply.”

Morpheus ignored her words. “How did you appear in my throne room? It is impossible for a human to get so close.”

Y/n shifted her gaze to the three stained windows behind Morpheus. Each window held a different being. They were beautiful.

“I do not know,” she finally answered. “When my eyes shut, I began to think about… I then heard my name. When they opened, I was standing in your throne room.”

Y/n’s eyes fell to the floor, her attention captured by the intricate markings. A warm, light hand captured her chin, tilting her head up. Morpheus stood close, his eyes held a low fire.

“You dare keep things from me?” His words were whispered, but the authoritative anger behind them was not.

Y/n could not help but twitch her lips upwards. She had never expected a man who seemed so cold to have such warm hands.

“I began to think about The Dreaming, Morpheus. The people. You. I began to think about you.”

Morpheus released Y/n’s chin, stepping back. Her words burned him, and no amount of space could cool him. He watched her as she stood before him with a teasing smile and wide eyes.

This is a game to her, Morpheus thought. She has every intention to win.

“Shameless, are we?”

Y/n grinned. “Immortality does that.”

Choosing to ignore her words, Morpheus began to circle Y/n. A hand on his chin. “That does not explain how you appeared here. Waking in the library I could dismiss, but this? I cannot.”

Y/n watched Morpheus as he circled her. His long coat crushed against her dress. “Why do you rule The Dreaming?”

Morpheus stopped. He turned his head, staring at Y/n. Choosing his words carefully, he answered her with a low voice. “It is who I am. My responsibility.”

Y/n nodded, like she had expected his answer. Morpheus began to walk again. His mind tried to find answers to his question. A human cannot appear in the palace, much less into his throne room.

“Have you considered house plants?”

Morpheus paused his pacing right in front of Y/n. With slightly exasperated eyes, he looked at her, only to find her grinning. The smile blinded him and he looked away.

“No,” he answered. Unsure as to why he played into her delusions. “Why have you begun to dream? And why do you dream inconsistently?”

Y/n sighed. As beautiful as the throne room was, she wished to explore more of The Dreaming. She wanted to see Abel and Goldie, speak to Matthew and Mervyn.

“I think it is because in the Waking World, I am lonely. Consistent company is the one thing I lack, the one thing I dream of. As for why my dreams are inconsistent, I believe it is because my yearning is profound some days, and dull otherwise.”

Morpheus digested her words, picking them apart in his mind. He could understand yearning for company. Humans died rather quickly, and they loved greatly. For a small moment, Morpheus realized that he too yearned for company. Perhaps he was not too different from humans.

With a satisfied nod, he said, “I see.” After a moment, he met Y/n’s eyes. “Have you found worthy company here?”

Y/n smiled softly at him, a smile so earnest he drank it up, locking it away so he would never forget it, nor think about it.

“I have.”

The silence between the human and Endless was comfortable, and it irked Morpheus. He clenched his hands behind his back. “You are hiding something, Y/n. Humans cannot be here, and yet you are.” His words were soft, accusatory.

Y/n frowned. “I’m not hiding anything. I have been honest.”

Morpheus’s eyebrows furrowed, framing his penetrating stare. They were close once again, seemingly unable to find their own space within such a large room. Y/n looked up at Morpheus, feeling smaller than she had in a long time. Morpheus looked down at her, noticing different flecks of colours in her eyes.

“Humans are not honest creatures, Y/n. Dreamers, destroyers, liars, imaginers, but not honest.”

Morpheus was angry. Not because he had a right to be, but because he didn’t. He knew Y/n told him the truth, she had no reason to lie. But it was her earnest expression, her smile, the way she loudened the hum in his heart that pushed Morpheus.

“You speak of humanity like you created it.” Y/n held Dream’s glare. “You didn’t. We created you. How can you call me dishonest when you cannot even answer my questions?”

Y/n’s words slapped Morpheus across the face. He looked away, knowing her anger was not misplaced. He placed it there, purposely. Before he could say anything, Y/n winced.

“Sorry,” she whispered. At her apology, Morpheus’s head turned to her, a surprised glint in his dark eyes. Y/n stared at his slightly glazed, rimmed eyes. They both breathed heavily, chests rising and falling.

“Why do you apologize?”

Y/n scratched her neck. “I can understand where your hesitancy comes from. I’m an enigma to you. Plus,” she shrugged. “I do not want to anger a being greater than a God.”

Morpheus’s eyes softened slightly at Y/n’s words. He had forgotten that Y/n was the greatest display of humanity he had ever seen. He should have known that she was wiser than he had thought.

“Your scratches,” Morpheus changed the subject, “where did they come from?”

Y/n’s eyebrows furrowed before she reached up to her cheek, a small ah escaping her. “These? These are nothing. Just a small gift from a parting village.”

At her words, Morpheus turned towards her. At the attention, Y/n laughed, waving her hand in dismissal. “It is not that serious. There has to be consequences to my wish, doesn’t there? Many think I am a witch. If only it were true.”

“Does the pain not hurt?”

“Of course it hurts,” Y/n looked at Morpheus with a deadpan look. “I am immortal, not immune.”

“Not that,” Morpheus nodded to her face. “Does the pain there,” he pointed to her heart, “not hurt?”

Y/n looked down at where Morpehus pointed. “Oh. Yes, I suppose it does. One gets used to it, though. Time is a great remedy.”

Her words held no substance. She spoke them lightly, like they did not matter. Morpheus could hear the pain, though. It was the kind of pain he felt in nightmares, the ones filled with loss and regret.

Morpheus parted his lips to ask her more questions, to understand the role she played in The Dreaming, but at the sight of her frown, he could only ask her one thing:

“Will you accompany me on a walk?”

Y/n’s head lifted and she smiled at him, a small secretive smile. It washed his scarce dilemma away. Unknown to him as to why, but her smile made him feel like he had done the right thing.

“You’ve asked me that before.”

“Have I?’

“Yes. The first time.”

Morpheus remembered well. It was the first time he touched her, and when he swore it would be the last.

“What is your answer?”

Y/n’s smile tightened something in him, and unconsciously, he was already extending his hand.

“I would love to.”

The King of Dreams and Ruler of Nightmares felt like a shadow as he walked behind Y/n. There was a jump in her step as she skipped down the aisles of the library. Her long, flowy dress brushed against the wooden floor, and Morpheus watched with sullen eyes.

Y/n’s arms were outstretched on either side, her fingers brushing the spines of all the books she passed. It was exhilarating, to touch the stories of people she would never meet, brush her fingers against the books she would never read.

Morpheus had yet to say a word to her since entering the library. He quietly followed her, walking in her shadow. It felt comfortable to have him behind her. She felt watched, protected, like she was worthy of all his attention.

Y/n’s eyes fell on a familiar woman. Y/n smiled as Lucienne mumbled to herself, writing on parchment with a dipped quill. “Working very hard, I see.”

Lucienne lifted her head, smiling gently at Y/n. She put down her quill and pushed her round, vintage glasses up. “There is much to do,” Lucienne answered. Her eyes shifted behind the human and Lucienne stood quickly. She bowed her head. “My Lord, I apologize. I did not see you there.”

Morpheus tipped his head in acknowledgement. He did not move from the shadows, finding pleasure in watching Lucienne and the human interact.

“Would you like to join us on our walk, Lucienne? I could use the feminine company.”

Morpheus watched Lucienne’s expression shift. Her eyes softened and her lips pulled into an unfamiliar smile. Lucienne was honoured by the invitation, and Morpheus realized that his librarian had never smiled at him as such.

“As lovely as that sounds, Y/n, I have quite a bit of work to do. Next time,” she promised.

Lucienne did not meet Morpheus’s stare. He could not know she refused because of him. It would not be proper, and Lucienne would not know how to act.

Y/n’s shoulders sagged for a moment before she smiled at the librarian. “I understand. Next time, then.”

“Come, Y/n.” Morpheus’s voice reverberated around Lucienne’s office.

Y/n smiled at Lucienne before waving. Morpheus turned and walked away. Before Y/n could follow him, Lucienne called her name.

“Lord Morpheus… he does not do tours.”

Y/n let out a breathy laugh. “I figured.”

Lucienne could not help but raise her eyebrows in question. “You are special, Y/n.”

“I certainly hope so.”

Y/n smiled at Lucienne before turning and briskly walking in Dream’s direction. Lucienne watched the human walk away. At first glance, there was nothing special about Y/n. She appeared to be like every other human woman in The Dreaming.

But upon further inspection, Lucienne saw the way eyes shone, the brightness of her smile, and the enamoring tone of voice she used. She did not blame her King for being fascinated by the human.

When Y/n turned the corner, Lucienne sat back down and continued her work. She would think about her Lord and the human later. For now, she had her books to tend to.

Walking through the library, towards the large doors, Y/n watched Morpheus move with rigid stillness. His black coat followed him obediently. Everything about him was dark, black. His very presence felt off in the warm, brown-coloured library.

“Can we visit Cain and Abel?” Y/n asked from behind him. Her head was tilted, and she looked like a curious child following the bogeyman.

Morpheus did not turn around to see her smile, one he knew she would be wearing. He continued on, reasoning in his mind. He asked her to join him on his daily walk through The Dreaming.

She was an addition to his plans, not the reason for them.

“We shall meet them when we get to them.”

Morpheus spoke his words lowly, decisively. He was a King, and there was a reputation to uphold.

“Okay.”

Y/n pushed herself, walking instep with Morpheus. There was considerable distance between the two, but it did little for their hearts.

The humming around them grew louder.

A familiar stone path laid before Y/n, and she grinned at the sight of two houses. How she had missed the House of Secrets and the House of Mystery.

She had painted this very scene before her, but paint and memory did not do it justice. The greenery of the lot, the vines and their intricate patterns, and the cottage-like houses had been greatly missed by Y/n.

Morpheus watched Y/n as she breathed in the fresh air. His own lips twitched at the sight of her grin. He had never quite appreciated The Dreaming the way Y/n did. Her fascination made him proud.

“You painted this.”

Y/n’s head turned to face Morpheus, her eyes wide. For a moment, she looked guilty. It puzzled him.

“How did you know?”

Morpheus was silent. He did not want to admit that he had seeked her painting out. It was below him to appreciate human art, but Morpheus could not help it. He found joy in admiring paintings, reading poetry, and listening to odd melodies.

Human art paralleled human dreams, and he created dreams.

“Lucienne informed me. She cares for human creations.”

“Oh.” Morpheus did not want to imagine disappointment in her voice. “Is that all right?”

Without looking at her, Morpheus stepped onto the stone path and began to walk near the entrance. “What is?”

“Painting The Dreaming. Writing about it. Can I?”

Morpheus slightly turned his head, watching Y/n follow him from the corner of his eyes. “You ask permission after you have already done both?”

Y/n shrugged, a soft resting smile on her lips. “Better to ask for forgiveness than permission.”

Stopping at the edge of the path, Morpheus’s lips lifted into a brief bare outline of a smirk. It disappeared before Y/n could fully comprehend it.

“Yes, Y/n. It is fine.”

Y/n’s head dropped before she smiled at her feet. “Good to know.”

“Cain,” Morpheus called out. “Abel.”

Two sets of footsteps were heard from behind the houses. Morpheus and Y/n watched as two short men with slick black hair and long beards walked towards them. One seemed to be yelling, and the other seemed to bare it.

Abel saw them first, and his eyes widened. A wide smile broke out on his face, replacing his frown.

“My Lord! You grace us with your presence.” Abel bowed his head.

“Lord Morpheus,” Cain greeted, bowing his head.

“Are you well, Abel, Cain?”

Both brothers nodded, pleased by Morpheus’s question. Their attention shifted to the woman standing beside Morpheus, and Abel’s grin widened while Cain’s dropped.

“Y/n!” Abel laughed, stretching his arms. “How nice to see you!”

Y/n grinned, waving at Abel. “Abel! Lovely to see you!”

Y/n’s gaze shifted to Cain’s less enthusiastic one. With a knowing look in her eyes, she tipped her head to the side, smiling at Cain. “Hello, Cain. Thrilled to see me?”

Cain sighed. “Human. You’re back.”

“I am.”

“Why?”

“I missed you greatly, Cain.” Y/n’s words were teasing, and Morpheus watched the exchange with blank, intrigued eyes. At the sight of Cain’s reluctant smile, Morpheus’s lips dried.

“You’re a fool, mortal.” Cain’s words were harsh, but his smile was visible.

“Lord Morpheus,” Abel started. “What brings you to our home?”

Morpheus wished he knew the right answer to Abel’s question, instead, he threaded his fingers together behind his back. His lips parted, and as he was about to answer Abel’s question, Y/n cut him off.

“We’re on a walk around The Dreaming. Morpheus is doing his job and I have come along.”

The brothers stared at Y/n before shifting their gaze to Morpheus’s unreadable expression. Unaware of the effects of her words, Y/n turned in a circle, admiring the land. “Is Goldie here, Abel?”

Blinking, Abel nodded. “He is! Let me call him.” Abel whistled and they waited for a brief moment before a golden winged animal flew above them, diving towards Abel.

Goldie, the once small gargoyle, had grown a bit. He landed on Abel’s shoulder, staring at Morpheus. The Endless stared at Goldie with a soft, scarcely perceptible smile. Y/n’s heart fluttered at the sight of it.

Goldie’s dark eyes shifted to Y/n and the little gargoyle released a throaty gurgle. He pushed off Abel’s shoulder and flew right into Y/n’s hands. The brothers and Morpheus watched as Goldie snuggled into Y/n’s hands with a smile.

Y/n brought Goldie closer to her face. Her nose touched his snout. “Hello, lovely,” she whispered. “You’re as beautiful as I remember.” Goldie tilted his head up, hitting his snout against her nose.

The exchange was wholesome, private, and it warmed Morpheus’s heart. His eyes softened at the sight, and the pull within his heart tightened. He had to look away, needing to ground himself.

“Wow,” Abel smiled. “Goldie loves you!”

Y/n smiled and lowered Goldie, rubbing his head with her thumb. “How have you two been? Fill me in on all I’ve missed.”

“Well,” Abel started, “We planted more flowers. Oh, and Cain taught Gregory more tricks.”

At the mention of Gregory, Cain’s eyes lit. “Shall I wake him?”

Y/n’s lips parted. “Yes, please. I would love to see him.”

Cain nodded and walked away. Y/n stepped towards Abel, engaging him in conversation. Their eyes were bright and their hands moved as they spoke. Abel laughed freely, like a child unafraid of his fate.

Morpheus could feel simmering jealousy. He had created this realm, its residents, and yet a human who had visited a few times had more of a connection with his creations than he, the creator.

Below the jealousy, the hum that Morpheus had grown used to had quietened. A very small, miniscule part of him felt content standing there, watching Y/n and Abel speak. Everytime she made eye contact with him and smiled, he felt the pull on his heart tug.

Heavy footsteps interrupted Abel, and he turned to find Cain standing next to Gregory. Y/n laughed at the sight, her hands clasped together in delight. Cain and Gregory walked towards them.

Gregory bowed his head towards Morpheus and the King of The Dreaming smiled briefly. The large gargoyle then turned his head towards Y/n and when he bowed his head, Cain and Abel gasped. Y/n froze and turned to Morpheus, who said nothing and silently watched.

Moments passed and Y/n cleared her throat. “Hello, Gregory. Still very green, I see.”

The gargoyle stepped towards her, tilting his head down. Y/n placed a gentle hand on his snout, rubbing it softly.

“You feel stronger, Y/n. Different. I almost could not recognise you.”

“I feel the same, though.”

Morpheus turned his head, his eyebrows furrowed.

“He speaks to you?”

Y/n nodded. “In my mind.”

Morpheus said nothing, choosing to focus his attention on the gargoyle.

“If you so choose, you may speak to me within your mind.”

Y/n held Gregory’s gaze as she tried to communicate with the gargoyle through her thoughts.

“Can you hear me?” She asked him, silently.

“Yes, child. You have brought the King of the realm to us. However did you manage that?”

Y/n glanced at Morpheus from the corner of her eye. He watched her with a blank stare, eyes unwavering.

“He asked me to go on a walk.” Oddly enough, Y/n felt shy admitting the fact to a gargoyle.

“I see.” Gregory’s deep voice invaded y/n’s mind. “How is immortality, Y/n?”

Y/n’s smile turned tight, and Morpheus did not miss it. “It is wonderful. Very painful, and hard, but if you could see all I have created, you would be in awe.”

“And if I saw all you suffered?”

“You would ask me to repent. Beg for death. But I am not ready for it. I do not want it.”

Gregory said nothing, just pushed his skin into Y/n’s palm. His comfort was enough, she did not need his words.

Morpheus cleared his throat, a conflicted feeling fleeting through his mind. Gregory was his creation, and yet, he chose Y/n to converse with.

“We must move along,” He said. His voice felt raspy, having been unused. He watched with impassivity as Y/n said her farewell to the brothers and gargoyles. Without a word, he turned and walked down the stone path.

Running after him, Y/n walked beside Morpheus. A small content smile on her face.

“Thank you, Dream.”

Morpheus faced ahead, his hands behind his back and his coat dragging against the grass. “What for?”

“For taking me to them. I forgot just how magical The Dreaming is.”

“You seem to fit right in,” he said. “I have never seen Cain so happy.”

Y/n shrugged, swaying her dress. “It is easy to find a man’s favoured indulgence. Once you know what it is, you can use it to better know him. Cain loves his home and Gregory.”

Morpheus let her words sink into his skin. “Is that so?”

Y/n nodded, her attention on a kaleidoscope of butterflies. “Men are easy creatures.”

They walked side-by-side, shoulders barely touching. They were alone in the vast forest, nothing but trees and animals to keep them company.

In their silence, Morpheus asked her, “What is my favoured indulgence?”

Y/n did not turn right away, but when she did, her eyes held secrets and her smile was wicked.

“Do you believe I would tell you, King of Dreams?”

“I do.”

Y/n tsked, turning her head to watch the butterflies again. “As I said, men are easy creatures. I am not.”

A bright coloured butterfly landed on Y/n’s outstretched hand. “It is my secret to know, and yours to find.”

“Another game?”

“Always.”

Morpheus and Y/n walked, and walked. The Dreaming was infinite and had no end, and it brought Y/n immense joy.

She ran, skipped, laughed, and smiled as they walked by different dreams. She was not allowed to walk through any dreams, but Morpheus told her the gist of every single one.

They had run into Mervyn and Matthew, and the duo walked with them for a while before Merv was needed, and with a smile and wave, he left.

Matthew flew above them, close enough to listen, and far enough to feel comfortable.

The silence was pleasant, welcomed.

Y/n walked ahead of Morpheus, who walked at a steady, unchanged pace. His black coat, dark hair, and pale skin stood out in the forest, but The Dreaming knew it’s King. Morpheus watched Y/n with all his attention. There was something serene about her, it calmed him, and it confused him.

Y/n halted, her head turned to the right. Her eyes were wide, shining. Slowly, she turned and walked. Morpheus and Matthew made eye contact before following her. They stood before an arch entrance made of trees and vines.

“Magnificent,” Y/n whispered.

At the same time, Morpheus whispered,

“impossible.”

Y/n walked through the entrance, her skin glowing and questions dancing on her lips.

Matthew landed on Morpheus’s shoulder. “Uh, boss, isn’t that Fiddler’s Green?”

“Yes,” Morpheus answered. “It is.” He followed Y/n. “It seems our human is an avid dreamer.”

Y/n felt the magic around her. It was nothing like the rest of The Dreaming. The air in this forest whispered to her, words she could not understand. It tickled her cheeks and played with her dress.

Taking a deep breath, Y/n felt her heartbeat steadily in her chest, the pull in her stomach pushed her deeper within the forest.

“Where are we?” She asked, whispering. It felt wrong to speak loudly, to disrupt the peace.

Morpheus stepped beside her, their shoulders touching briefly. “This is Fiddler’s Green.”

“It’s beautiful.”

Matthew cawed, softly. “It sure is. This is my first time here.”

Y/n turned to the raven, eyebrow raised. “First time?”

Matthew nodded, his small head bobbing. “You don’t find Fiddler’s Green. It finds you. Guess luck is on your side today, missy.”

Y/n’s confused expression turned towards Morpheus’s blank one. His eyes betrayed nothing. With a calm, measured tone, he answered Y/n’s unspoken question.

“Fiddler's Green is a sentient part of the Dreaming which all travelers dream of someday finding. It cannot be dreamed, nor visited. It exists within all planes of The Dreaming.”

Y/n nodded slowly, digesting Dream’s words. “How did I…?”

Morpheus turned his head, his blue eyes scanning the land before him. “You continue to surprise me, human.” Morpheus’s voice vibrated against Y/n’s spine, sending chills down her back.

Y/n began to walk, Morpheus close behind her. Trees parted for her, branches created cover. She had never seen anything like it.

The further away they got from the entrance, the louder the whispers got. Y/n pushed through them, figuring they were part of the magic, until they said her name.

“Y/n L/n.”

Y/n froze, the hair on her neck standing. Slowly, she turned to face Morpheus, and his eyes hardened at the sight of her frown.

“Did you hear that?”

Matthew tipped his head. “Hear what?”

Y/n’s eyes darted behind Morpheus, scanning. “My name. It was whispered.”

Matthew turned his head, making eye contact with Morpheus. Slowly, Morpheus raised an eyebrow. “I did not hear anything.”

Y/n’s frown deepened. Just as she was about to turn, she heard it again.

“Y/n L/n. Come home.”

The words were soft, almost purred. They were feminine, and when Y/n closed her eyes, she realized the voice sounded vaguely familiar.

Morpheus watched Y/n’s expression. The tightness of her lips, the way her eyes fluttered shut. She was hearing something he could not, and it displeased him.

Unconsciously, Y/n began to walk further in the forest. Her steps were slow, dragged.

Morpheus called her name. When she did not respond, he followed. Morpheus did not know what could be whispering to Y/n, there was nothing beyond Fiddler’s Green.

Except, Morpheus thought. There is one place…

Y/n walked all the way to the end of Fiddler’s Green. Her eyes opened and her lips parted in confusion. “Where is it?”

Morpheus stopped right behind Y/n, her back almost against his chest. A turmoil of emotions swam in him, his fingers itched to return to the palace.

Matthew was quiet, perched on his shoulder. He too could sense his Lord’s ill feelings.

“Where is what, Y/n?”

“I’m not sure… It called to me. It said it was here.”

“There is nothing beyond Fiddler’s Green.” His words were spoken with authority and finality.

Y/n shook her head, her eyes closed as she listened. Morpheus was beyond fear, beyond confusion, but he was not beyond feeling uncomfortable.

“There is something beyond here, Morpheus. It is calling to me.” Y/n lifted her hand, stretching it until her fingers landed on an invisible wall. She pushed, and Fiddler’s Green parted.

Large, invisible doors open to an ancient, forgotten city.

Y/n’s eyes widened as she took in the broken city before her. The palace was deteriorating, ruble coated the ground. Stepping towards it, Y/n whispered the one word Morpheus thought he would never hear again.

“Bubastis.”

Morpheus’s head snapped towards Y/n and his lips parted. He could not stop her as she ran into the forgotten city. Slowly, the King of The Dreaming walked towards what had once been a gift.

“Boss,” Matthew said. “What is this place?”

Watching Y/n with an unwavering glare, Morpheus straightened. “Bubastis, the holy city of the Goddess, Bast.”

Y/n stood before the crumbling palace with stillness Morpheus had yet to see. He stepped beside her, questions on the tip of his tongue. Y/n crouched, her fingers grazing the broken stone. As soon as she touched it, the ground beneath them rumbled.

Morpheus’s hand touched Y/n’s lower back, steadying her. It was subconscious, and the first time he had not meant to touch her.

He did not remove his hand, his touch gentle.

Ruble and stone flew as the palace rebuilt itself, sand poured until the ground was covered. With Y/n’s touch, the holy city of Bast was alive for the first time in several millennia.

Y/n watched with child-like curiosity. She was unaware of her growing presence; her hair grew fuller, her skin cleared, her eyes lightened, and she grew slightly taller.

In barely any time, the once broken city had been rebuilt to its original glory. The palace was built with golden sand, an air of ancient architecture surrounding it. It was littered with cats, small and big. They crawled from behind the palace, appearing from the sand. Their sharp feline eyes stared at Y/n, waiting for her.

Hesitant, Y/n turned to Morpheus. His eyes were already on her, astonishment shining in them. It was the first clear emotion she had ever seen on him. With the smallest nod of his head, Y/n walked further into the city.

The city which welcomed her with open arms.

“Go,” Morpheus told Matthew. The raven flew away.

Y/n walked towards the palace and the cats that awaited her. She stood before them, nerves dancing on her skin. She was confused, her mind racing.

“Is this my dream, Morpheus? Have I dreamt this place?”

“No.” Morpheus’s voice was a whisper and it barely reached her ears.

“How… what?”

Morpheus said nothing as he shut his eyes, trying to think. Bubastis had crumbled long ago, as the world stopped believing in Bast. She had given up on her holy city, and allowed him to shut it away.

The way lightning strikes trees, theories striked Morpheus. He released a long breath, opening his eyes. If his theories were correct, then he had much to think about.

“Come, Y/n. We must enter the palace.”

Morpheus walked up the hardened sandy steps, leaving Y/n standing alone. With a deep breath, she followed him.

The inside of the palace resembled Egyptian tombs. Everything was made of sand, and yet it looked sturdier than Dream’s own palace. Hieroglyphics littered the walls, stories upon stories written from the beginning of time.

Ancient artifacts were on display, and Y/n paused to examine every single one.

Morpheus guided Y/n to the center of the palace, where a large, maroon book, binded by string, awaited them on a tall wooden book-stand.

Morpheus stopped before it. His eyes lingered on the book before he stepped aside. His expression gave away nothing, but his lips were turned downwards.

“Place your hand on the book, Y/n.”

Raising a cautious eyebrow, Y/n took a small step back. “I don’t understand. What is this place? Why did it call to me?”

Morpheus’s head tilted back, his high cheekbones on display. He looked at Y/n through his eyelashes, calculating.

“What is the name of your mother?”

Y/n was taken back. She blinked, frowning. Her mind was racing, names and faces appeared and disappeared but none of them were her mother. She could not remember a single detail about her mother.

“My parents died when I was very little. I do not remember.”

Morpheus stepped towards her, a dim fire lit his eyes. “Think, Y/n. Not a single memory of the woman who birthed you?”

Y/n’s expression fell, and she looked down. “No. I can’t remember anything about her.”

Morpheus stepped back, straightening himself. “Place your hand on the book.”

Y/n did as she was told. She placed her right hand on the book. Her palm was centered, and her fingers spread. A moment passed before she tried lifting her hand, only to be met with Morpheus’s sharp glare.

“Morpheus, what is this—”

A bright white light began to shine from within the book, cutting Y/n off. Gasping, she shut her eyes as the light grew bigger and bigger, until it momentarily blinded her.

Fluttering her eyes, Y/n removed her hand from the book and rubbed her eyes. Once her vision was back, she opened her eyes to find Morpheus standing before her with a look she had never seen before.

A mixture of wonder, curiosity, understanding, and apprehension swirled in Morpheus’s blue eyes. His theory was correct, and it brought him no pleasure.

Y/n turned to face the book. Her eyes widened as she realized it was now open to a random page filled with hieroglyphics she did not understand.

“This book, Morpheus, what is it? And what does it say?”

Morpheus’s eyes stayed on Y/n, his stare awakening something deep within her. When he spoke, he spoke his words softly, breathily.

“You are a daughter of Bast, the Goddess of protection, pleasure, and the bringer of good health. The patron of the moon, cats, women, and secrets.”

Licking his lips, Morpheus took a small step towards her. “She has given you her holy blessing as her servant.”

Y/n stared at Morpheus, his words falling short on her ears. She could not comprehend what he had said, and instead, she laughed.

“Do you joke, Dream?”

Morpheus shook his head once. “I do not. You are of Godly blood, Y/n. It explains much about you.”

“I don’t understand,” Y/n whispered. She breathed heavily before lifting her dress and sitting on the sandy floor. With her legs crossed, she rested an elbow on each knee, and held her head in her hands.

Morpheus watched as she spiraled, her known world collapsing on itself. His fingers twitched and he almost rested a hand on her head.

Y/n lifted her head, glossy eyes stared at him and Moprheus’s throat dried. “What did you mean when you said she gave me her holy blessing?”

Morpheus hesitated, deciding to tell her enough, but not all.

“Bast has an affiliation with The Dreaming. When I created Bubastis for her, she added some of her power to the city. She prevented you from dreaming until she saw fit. Because you are her daughter, she is giving that small amount of power to you. It is why you dream the way you do. It is what allows you to wander The Dreaming.”

Y/n let his words sink in, picking them apart in her brain and putting them back together again.

Morpheus thought back to Death’s words all those years ago: “she’s yours.” It suddenly made sense to him. Y/n was Bast’s way of repaying him for the creation of Bubastis. Y/n’s kindleship with Bubastis allowed for an influx of dreamers. And Y/n was fate’s way of offering him the companionship Bast had once offered him.

Morpheus released a small sigh. It had all begun to piece together. Y/n was nothing more than a peace offering from Bast.

“Get up, Y/n. You are waking up.”

Y/n pushed herself up. She glanced around the room once before she slowly made her way out of the palace. Her mind was racing and her thoughts had spun a web.

The further she walked away, the louder the hum rang in Morpheus’s ears. He watched as she slowly disappeared, her body waking. Before vanishing completely, she turned her head and smiled at Morpheus.

The sight of it left Dream slightly breathless, and he stood there until she was gone.

The Waking World was brighter than usual. The sun shone a little brighter, the sky wore a beautiful blue, and the air was playful.

In the park, Morpheus looked out of place. His long black coat and dark raven hair made him standout, and yet, not a single human looked his way.

The Endless looked around the park, his icy eyes narrowing on a woman playing with a child.

His hands behind his back, Morpheus walked towards the duo.

“You have to stop biting my hand, lovely. You have teeth now, it hurts.”

The child stared at the woman with big, round eyes. His small hands were clenched into fits and his smile was lopsided.

Morpheus stood behind the woman and stared at the child with slightly softer eyes. Children had a soft place in Morpheus's mind.

“Y/n.”

Y/n turned and smiled at him. It was unchanged, familiar, and it settled the turbulence in his heart.

“Morpheus.”

Y/n said his name like she could not believe he was standing before her. She patted the grass next to the child. “Come, sit.”

Y/n turned back to the child, missing his look of contempt. As he sat, Morpheus made eye contact with the child who stared at him with newfound curiosity.

Spreading his coat dramatically around him, Morpheus sat rigidly, his hands in his lap.

“The child…”

Y/n laughed before patting the child on the cheek.

“This is my great-great-great-great grandson. It was a beautiful day and I wanted to spend time with him.”

“Your family knows?”

Y/n nodded, making a face at the child that made him burst into heavy giggles. “Yes and no. Most do, but we lie to the others. I have one of those faces, you see.” She said her last sentence with a soft smirk.

Morpheus took a moment to bask in the sun. He did not spend a lot of time in the Waking World, preferring his realm over it, but he could appreciate a good day.

“Are you…” Morpheus licked his lips, uncomfortable. Y/n turned to him, giving him all her attention. “Alright?”

Y/n knew what he spoke of, and her heart warmed at his concern. She took a moment to collect her thoughts. After her last visit in The Dreaming, she had many restless nights, but after a handful of days, she found herself sleeping soundlessly.

“I am. I realized that I am still me, and being the daughter of Bast does not change anything.” She pursed her lips, turning to Morpheus. “Does it?”

“No,” Morpheus responded. “Your touch awoke the city which means that Bast’s followers will now be able to dream.”

“Sounds like you will become very busy.”

Morpheus did not need to see the flicker of disappointment in Y/n’s eyes to know that he had heard it.

The child reached for Morpheus’s hand, and before Y/n could slap it away, Morpheus extended his hand until the child grabbed his long, pale finger.

Morpheus gently moved his finger to the left and then the right, his lips lifting into a small smile at the sound of the child’s laughter.

Y/n watched with wide eyes, memorizing the interaction. It warmed her heart and the pit of her stomach and she wished to never forget it.

“I will have time for you,” Morpheus whispered. His words were so soft, carried by the wind. He almost worried she did not hear them.

But Y/n’s lifted into a soft, unknown smile, and he knew they had.

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goblininawig · 7 months

Text

Gault's First Kiss

Lucienne looks out over the Dreaming from a window in a tower of the library. Gault’s glinting form is gliding about, swirling through cotton candy clouds, making them twist into ribbons and dance through the sky. It’s beautiful, enchanting even, and Lucienne can’t look away.

Which is how Gault catches her staring. The Nightmare-turned-Dream flits over with a barely-concealed smirk on her face, landing gently on the window ledge. At a thought from Lucienne, the window melts away, and Gault steps inside. The window reappears behind her. Lucien clears her throat and adjusts her spectacles.

“Hello, Gault. Lovely to see you.”

“Isn’t it just?” Gault replies teasingly, dark eyes sparkling; one flashing shut in a wink.

Clearing her throat again, Lucienne tries to keep her composure, stating, “Yes, well, Lord Morpheus did ask me to look after things while he’s working.”

“Hmm,” Gault hums, wings flapping slightly as she shifts closer to the librarian. “And how are you finding… things?”

Lucienne feels the corners of her mouth turning up. She gathers up her courage, looks Gault in the eyes and confesses, “I find them quite enchanting.”

Gault’s skin shimmers as her face radiates quiet joy and patient anticipation, waiting for Lucien to continue.

Lucienne swallows and adds, “I find you quite enchanting, Gault.”

Gault’s feet don’t touch the floor as her wings move her closer. She reaches out and Lucienne takes her hands, marveling at the play of light and shadow across Gault’s skin. Impulsively, she lifts one hand, bows her head, and presses her lips to the back of Gault’s shimmering hand.

When she straightens back up, Gault closes the remaining space between them. Lucienne and Gault melt together, arms going around each other’s waists, pressing their foreheads together.

“Can I kiss you?” Lucienne whispers, as if too loud a sound would mar the moment.

Gault breathes out “yes,” in reply.

Hesitantly, Lucienne and Gault join their lips in a tender touch. The next kiss is more confident and urgent, and the lights in the library all brighten tenfold at the surge of emotion it sends through the Dreaming.

Far off, on a sandy shore, Morpheus senses the shift in his Realm. A brief smile plays about his lips. It seems that Gault has affected more change than he anticipated. Though he finds he approves of this one rather more easily than the rest.

#the sandman #the sandman netflix #gault x lucienne #lucienne the librarian #gault the sandman #lucienne x gault #the dreaming #first kiss #sandman fanfic #fluff #goblininawig

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melancholypancakes · 2 years

Text

Y/n: dream… it’s not that hard just say “I’m sorry” just repeat what I said

*y/n smiles*

Morpheus:…..I’m…..

Y/n: almost there.

Morpheus: I….I’m sorry?

*Y/n smiles nervously*

Y/n: that’s it, you got it! Now all you have to do is tell Lucienne that and mean it.

#y/n #morpheus x reader #the sandman #dream of the endless #morpheus #i am a simp #morpheus x y/n #lord morpheus #dream x reader #dream of the endless x reader #morpheus fluff #the sandman netflix #the sandman x reader #dream #tom sturridge #lucienne #morpheus headcanons

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littledollll · 1 year

Text

Littledollll’s main masterlist

☆ Lucifer Morningstar ☆

♡ Larissa Weems ♡

❂ Brienne of Tarth ❂

★ Into The Dreaming ★

✿ Extra characters ✿

#it’s littledollll #the sandman #larissa weems smut #lucifer sandman #wanda smut #morpheus sandman #Enid Sinclair #wanda maximoff #brienne of tarth #lucienne the librarian #ser brienne of tarth #the sandman lucifer morningstar #lucifer sandman smut #the sandman fluff #principal larissa weems #the sandman smut #Larissa weems #lucienne sandman

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immacaria · 1 year

Text

Fluffbruary: February 3 - Coast

Tags: Outsider’s POV; retired!Dream au (kinda); Canon Divergence; Fluff;

There is a little house at the coast, on top of a cliff and the people say that there lives an old witch and his companion. They live their lives quietly, keeping most to themselves, and go down to the village when they really need to. They are good neighbours, friendly with the kids, respectful with the others and, when someone needs help, their door is open all the time for everyone, tea waiting at the table and biscuits in the oven.

One of them, the witch, is tall and pale, lean muscles covering his bones and blue eyes that seem to know anyone's secrets. He says his name is Dream Gadling, a joke he and his siblings had that had gone too far, but more than once the villagers saw strangers call him Lord Morpheus, Oneiros, Lord Shaper and Dream of the Endless. He is strange, but he is kind and his stories help to keep the kids' eyes shining and their laughs loud.

The other one, the companion, is smaller than the witch, but his shoulders are broader and darker than him. His eyes are brown and warmer like honey, surrounded by crinkles that appear every time he smiles. If you ask him for his name, he will say it's Robert Gadling, but insist you call him only Robby because Robert was my father, only the witch called him Hob and their strange visitors called him Hope.

No one really knows when or why they arrived at the shore. One day they weren't there and the other they just appeared, no explanations, no trucks being unloaded. They had just popped into the abandoned house and never left.

Not that the village minds. They are a happy old couple who like to walk on the coast, hand in hand, and tend to the massive garden around their house. It was not unusual to see them walking on the sand, Hob leaning down every now and then to collect seashells and look at particularly interesting whirls of sand and Dream looking out to the sea, eyes closing when the wind surrounded him as if kissing his flushed cheeks.

The people they once helped, the teenagers they welcomed into their home say they are kind and love each other very much. It’s visible in the way they look at each other when they think the other doesn’t notice, the fond look on their eyes that tell them they passed through a lot together and still came out on the other side together and in love. In the way they treat each other, almost as if they know what goes in the other’s mind without having to ask. In this way they are never too far apart from each other, a touch away from each other all the time.

Even when Dream is watering the plants, Hob sitting down in one of the garden’s benches, they don’t look apart from each other, eyes crossing every few minutes. They are the type of couple that always knows where the other is without having to search, the one who spent so many years together that they know every quirk, every sound, every breath the other makes. The type of couple that almost doesn’t exist anymore, the type that stuck together through everything and now is simply looking for a quiet place to rest.

Sometimes, when life goes too quiet, strange visitors appear at the village, looking for the witch and his companion. Too tall women and men with teeth in the place of the eyes parade through the village, following the unpaved road that led straight to their house. They, like the ones they visit, are gentle with the villagers, not minding the questions only small children have the courage to ask.

“Are you a fairy?” Young John asks the dark woman with pointy ears and a raven on her shoulder. The woman smiles and nods, patting him in the head before following the road to where Dream waits for her. At night, sweets and a book full of fairy stories appears in his room without anyone putting them there.

“Can you see with those teeth?” Young Amelia says to the blonde man with teeth for eyes when his sunglasses fall one morning.

“I can,” the man says, hands stopping in the middle way of putting his sunglasses on.

“Don’t they hurt?” Amelia says, her little hand coming up to caress his cheek.

“No, I was made like this,” he whispers, voice almost too soft and eyes closed for a moment. “Are you not afraid of me, little girl?”

“No, not really,” She shrugs and, in a bold movement, kisses his forehead and smiles before adding: “I think you are beautiful and kind, actually,” the strange man stares at her for a moment before smiling and nodding, putting his glasses back on and getting up.

“You are kind, little girl, never change,” he says and leaves, a smile on his face as he walks to the old house on the top of the cliff. From that day and on, all the nightmares Amelia has weren't truly scary, but rather comforting and gentle.

“What are you?” Young Adam inquires one time, eyebrows furrowed and looking up to the new visitor. The person in front of him is tall and could be mistaken for a man and a woman at the same time. “Woman or man?”

“Both, none, woman, man or whatever you think I am, boy,” they say, golden eyes staring at him as they kneel in front of me. “What do you think I am, young Adam?”

“Beautiful as fuck,” He says and the being’s laugh could be heard minutes after they went away, the shock of Adam’s parents forever engraved on their memories. When Adam grows up, his beauty is unmatched and almost everything he desires he conquers.

There are ones that appear more than others, like the little being with colourful hair that talks alone and appears like a different person every time or the tall, albino man with long clothes or the women with pointy ears and the black women with an ankh around her neck and black clothes. Still, most of the time, it is just the two of them, together in that big house on the top of the cliff, and living one day after the other happy and in peace.

#dreamling #fluffbruary #fluffbruary 2023 #my writing #macca writes #dream of the endless #hob gadling #dream x hob #fluff #the corinthian #lucienne sandman #death of the endless #desire of the endless #delirium of the endless #dreamling nation

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thepaintedlady00 · 1 year

Note

My darling,

I'm thinking about something with dream and the reader making out like a couple of teenagers either in the dreaming or in the waking. Dealer's choice ❤️

You just know Dream doesn't care where they are, he's private of course, but I feel like if you catch him at just the right time he'll throw that out the window to just take your breath away! 😍💋😉 Thanks for the ask!

You'd never get used to this feeling. The perfect mixture of hot and cold that consumed every inch of your body as Dream's hands pulled you closer into his dark arms and midnight coat. Everywhere he touched tingled as his lips moved slow and passionate against yours, intent on savoring every second of you. There was little you could do, with your back firmly pressed against the bookshelf and your body held in the impossible strength of Dreams grasp, so your hands clutched at his coat, tugging him closer and using the feeling of the soft fabric to keep you at least somewhat grounded.

Moments like these weren't every day occasions, but they weren't rare either. It was no secret that the great Dream of the Endless was touch starved, nor was it a secret that you were his favorite person to touch. And god did he know how to touch you. He only pulled away when it became clear you needed to breathe, but even then his lips never left your skin. They moved along your jaw and down your neck, kissing and licking and biting until you were gasping and moaning, pulling his hair until he brought those wicked lips back to yours.

You could do this forever. Kiss him, hold him, love him. Though, perhaps it would be best done in private to avoid a certain librarian walking in with a sharp gasp that forces Dream to straighten up against you and fix his clothes and hair before turning to Lucienne with a reverent look. "Apologies, Lucienne."

"It is alright, my lord," she replied with a smug grin as she bowed her head. "I trust you two found the book, our dreamer was searching for."

The book... Right... That was why you'd been here. You cleared your throat and nodded. "We couldn't find it, actually. But we can come back later, maybe someone else is reading it right now."

Dream chuckled and took your arm. "Yes, we shall return later."

Lucienne shook her head as Lord Morpheus and his Lady Dreamer retired to a more private room in the palace. She looked at the book the dreamer hand inquired about, neatly tucked away right where they'd been standing. "They are absolutely oblivious."

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cosmictapestry · 8 months

Note

I'd like to request B22 pls cause. Cause Lucienne

B22. lucienne's ears

me wh. when lucienne e,,,

prompt list + fills here

Lucienne rarely needs to sleep, given that her body is made of dreamstuff—it is only when her mortal consciousness grows heavy with exhaustion that she might find rest in her lord's arms. On nights she need not sleep and Lord Morpheus is able to stay and their lovemaking has run its course, she is perfectly content to just hold him.

Or to be held, as the case may be. His arm holding her close to his chest, his breath soft on her neck, Lucienne finds, sometimes, that she is not quite as satiated as she thought herself to be.

The moment she decides this he snuffles cutely against her nape as though roused from sleep. He hums questioningly when she turns her head to see him, but that hum turns happy when she raises her hand to beckon him to kiss her. He obliges, propping himself up on one elbow and leaning in to slide his lips with hers at an odd angle that neither of them mind. The arm around her waist pulls her flush to him, and she pushes her hips back into his. “Why are you hard?”

“Why are you beautiful?” her lord retorts, and he kisses her to swallow up her laugh. His hand splays over her belly, caresses down over her hip and thigh and back again. “And warm. And soft.”

Lucienne coos and raises her hand to hold his cheek. “All the better to seduce you with, I suppose.”

“It is effortless,” he agrees with a grin that crinkles the corners of his eyes and that he presses to her cheek. “You need only exist in my proximity and I am done for."

"If I'm awake, you need only ask," she scritches her hand up through his hair.

He blinks at her. "That would be rude."

Lucienne tilts her head and frowns. "I do it to you all the time."

"I like when you are rude. It's funny," he says, and he takes her full-bodied laughter as an opportunity to drop his head to her neck and bathe her in kisses. She arches her neck for him, and he licks at the vibrating laughter in her throat, makes her breath hitch and waver and spill from her lips.

Lord Morpheus sets his teeth light and teasing at the tendon in her neck, his hand wandering down to grip her thigh and knead and stroke. Lucienne pushes her hips back and he grinds forward to meet her, his mouth falling open the slightest bit. He pants on her neck while his fingers descend to brush teasingly over her slit, and Lucienne mewls, and her lord shushes her softly. "Sore?" he murmurs.

"Sensitive," she corrects, and she tugs him up by his hair to kiss him again. "Wanting you."

He groans against her lips. His fingers dip between her thighs, nudge gently between her lips, stroke over the hood of her clit. Lucienne lets her head fall back on the pillow, and she pulls him down with her to rest his forehead against her temple. He rocks against her idly while he plays with her, and she strokes his hair, and she feels his lashes brush her cheek when he closes his eyes in contentment.

Lucienne finds herself doing the same, relishing in the heat and flush of her body, the sparks and the dampness between her legs. She rolls her hips forward into his hand, backward into his erection, feels as warm and soft and resplendent as he sees her. When his fingers on her get a little rougher and his grinding gets a little wetter and his breath on her cheek gets a little more ragged she concedes defeat to his seemingly limitless patience. "My lord, please."

"Mm?" he blinks his eyes open innocently. "Ah, you want—"

"Yes, I want," she hisses, because she is not at all convinced he does not tease her like this on purpose. She grinds back on him, and he bites down on a noise, and his next exhale washes over her ear and makes her shiver. "And if you do not give me what I want—"

"What will you do?" Lord Morpheus asks mildly, with a little rush of a laugh that makes Lucienne's entire body thrum, makes her nearly stop breathing. He noses up along her jawline, lays his lips soft under her ear, then his teeth. "Tell me how you would punish me."

Lucienne swallows several times before the fog of arousal clears enough for her to respond. "Would?"

"Well, I am going to give you what you want," he says, and his hand grips her under the thigh, slides down to the hinge of her knee and hoists her leg up. "So it won't actually be necessary."

Lucienne does not try to respond beyond a tiny whimper, and then a gasp when the head of his cock nudges at her. He kisses behind her ear, licks around the shell of it, and she shudders and reaches back to grab his hip, to try and tug him forward. He hums to her, soothing, and he rubs against her folds, and he sinks in at the same moment her nips at the sharp tip of her ear.

Lucienne's back bows, her mouth open in a long keen as he pushes into her, slow and sweet and dragging, a jolt racking her with every touch of his hot tongue to the gentle sting of his teeth. He traces his lips down the shell of her ear, suckles at the lobe just when he bottoms out, and Lucienne lays there and trembles, helpless.

Lord Morpheus stays still for a long time. "Alright?" he whispers finally, when her body begins to fall lax again.

She pets his hip, flush to her own, shivering with his own pleasure already built close to his limit. Speared on him, full of him, Lucienne manages a garbled moan before she speaks. "Good, love," she says. "Come on, now."

Her lord begins to move, rocking into her shallowly, grinding himself deep. It keeps her steady enough for him to continue lavishing his attention on and around her ear until she is squeaking from the oversensitivity of it, cool wetness of saliva and hot stinging of teeth and soft gentle press of lips.

He buries his nose behind her ear when his rhythm begins to falter, breathes in her scent like a hound, rolls and circles his hips and twitches in her. "Touch yourself, Lucienne," he murmurs. "Let me feel it."

Lucienne does as she's told without hesitation, bringing her hand down to rub at her clit—and she need only do it once, twice, before her mouth is falling open and her toes are curling and she's wailing, high and warbling and nearly inaudible.

The heat and the shivers and the ecstasy recede quicker than does the clenching of her body, and she comes back to herself in time to feel Lord Morpheus tense and shudder and hear his tiny, shattered moan, followed by a sigh so pleased it makes her want to kiss him.

So Lucienne raises her hand behind her again, takes him by the hair, and tugs him up to do exactly that.

#PURE fluff. absolutely nothing but sweetness.#to make up for. everything else #the sandman #x #minors dni #morphienne #lucid dreaming #the sandman fanfic #morpheus #dream of the endless #lucienne the librarian

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cissyenthusiast010155 · 9 months

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Peace Dreams ~Lucienne xGN Reader

You need a place to escape and you find your way to the library of the Dreaming. You aren’t supposed to be there, but it’s the only peace of mine you have.

Mommy… Master List

Requests & Prompt-List

Warnings: Angst, fluff, crying, breaking down, comforting, implied unsafe situation, unhappy ending…

Enjoy (:

“Hello?” You called out, wandering through the endless isles of this seemingly massive library.

Suddenly, a woman appeared from another isle, holding a book which she appeared to be reading. Your eyes were still red and brimming with tears.

“Hello… I think you might be lost…” the librarian spoke, “What’s your name?”

“Y/N.” Your voice trembled slightly.

“Well, Y/N, I’m Lucienne. What were you dreaming about before this?”

“I wasn’t.”

“You weren’t?” The woman quizzically asked.

“No, I’m awake, or I was… It was day…” you stuttered, a tear rolling down your cheek.

“Then why are you here…? Are you alright, dear?”

When you didn’t answer, the librarian placed the book down and came over to you. She guided you to a two seater chair, in which she had you sit next to her.

“I just… I just wanted to be safe. At peace. Not there.” You whispered, your body trembling as silent tears came down your face.

“May I touch you?” Lucienne gently asked.

You nodded. At this, the librarian took you into her embrace slowly, which you happily accepted. You eventually were snuggling completely in the woman’s embrace, simply happy to have a warm, comforting body. For once, you felt it. Peace.

“I’ve never had this…” you whispered after a while.

“Had what?” She looked down at you caringly.

“Comfort. Someone who was physically there for me.”

Lucienne sighed at your words.

“You do now…” she hummed.

“No I don’t…” you whispered.

Your eyes opened, waking you back up into the waking world.

“It’s only ever a dream…” you whispered.

~~~

Lucienne Masterlist ~Coming Soon (;

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morpheusbaby3 · 4 days

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Lucienne headcanon (The sandman):

I think Lucienne likes ice skating and Morpheus knows that;

Sometimes when it's snowing in the Dreaming, Morpheus creates an ice rink/path where Lucienne can go wherever she wants, skating instead of walking around the kingdom while she has to do her duties outside the castle.

She does this in a very natural and graceful way, and Morpheus enjoys watching his librarian happy about it.

#lucienne the librarian #lucienne sandman #lucienne the sandman #lucienne a bibliotecária #lucienne #dream of the endless #the sandman imagine #the sandman headcanons #the sandman headcanon #sandman headcanons #sandman headcanon #lord morpheus #the sandman #dream of the endless fluff

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daddyjackfrost · 2 years

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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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autistic-dream · 2 years

Note

Hello. Could I have a Corinthian fic where the reader is sweet and wholesome and the Corinthian just feels a strong urge to protect the

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Sweet Like Ice cream

Protective Corinthian x Wholesome Reader

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Fandom: The Sandman

Plot: Reader is a total sweetheart and Corinthian feels the urge to protect them

Warnings: Little bit of stalking, implied misgendering

A/N: here is some wholesome fluff :) I used gender neutral description for reader. I also

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Corinthian never thought he would actually give a fuck about a human. He saw them as something to toy with. But with you it was different.

There was something about how kind you were that made him want to protect you.

He found it ironic that he who was suppose to reflect the worst of humanity wanted to protect the best.

Here he was again watching you. He couldn't help it. He felt drawn to you. Drawn to your warm smile. Drawn to your eyes. If you were anyone else he would have collected you. But he couldn't bring himself to hurt you. Not with those beautiful deep eyes so full of life.

He remembered the first time he had bumped into you. How apologetic you had been. It was cute, the way you stuttered and the way your face flushed with embarrassment.

Currently he was at a diner, the same diner you happened to work at. You walked up to him.

"What can I get ya darling?" you smiled

"Just a coffee for now, sugar" he smiled back.

"One coffee coming right up," you nodded before heading back to the kitchen. You came back with a fresh mug of coffee. "Here ya go,"

"Thank you," he nodded to you.

"Well if ya need anything don't hesitate to wave me over."

"Of course," he said. He watched you walk off catering to a few other customers. Sipping on his coffee. He noticed one customer was giving you trouble. Disrespecting you, you just brushed it off but he could tell that it bothered you.

Corinthian never understood humans and their strict gender rules. Maybe it was because he was not human. But it had never really made sense why someone couldn't just respect other's gender.

He wasn't going to make a scene in the diner, until the customer grabbed you by the wrist. He stood up and walked over.

"I would let go of them if I were you," he told the customer, putting a hand on the man's shoulder. "My friend here clearly doesn't want you touching them." the man let go of you. "I suggest that you pay and then you leave."

"I didn't even finish-" the man began

"You can find somewhere else to eat." he said. The man just nodded putting a couple twenties on table before he left. Corinthian turned to you.

"You alright sugar?"

"I am fine," you say. "Thanks for that." you tuck the pencil in your hands behind your ear. "You didn't have to do that,"

"I don't take kindly to people disrespecting others," he said

"I have seen you before," you say. "I umm...get off of work in a little bit would you maybe want to go get ice cream or something after?"

"Sure," he says. "I would love that."

"Great," you smile. "What's your name?"

"I am not a big fan of names," he shrugs. "I find that people only ever use them when they are upset with you,"

"Huh...Never thought about it like that," you smile. "Well if you wait a little bit longer. We can go get that ice cream."

"I would love that," He said.

#The sandman #the sandman #the corinthian #the sandman netflix #dream of the endless #morpheus #lucienne #sandman #corinthian x reader #netflix sandman #sandman netflix #fluff

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melancholypancakes · 2 years

Text

youtube

You can Interpret this as either tom or dream in either version :)

(acting scene for Tom)

*Dream talking to Lucienne about rose walker book*

*CRASH*

*Y/n flat on the floor*

*cast and crew gasp or either cover their mouth*

Neil Gaiman: Cut!

….

*Tom walks to y/n*

Tom: hey, y/n…

Y/n: hey, Tom *smiles* well that hurt…

Tom: Alright, don’t move a muscle.

Y/n: I’m fine…*proceeds to sit up*

Tom: no, you’re not. don’t move!

*Patton Oswalt comes in*

Patton: why is there a hole in the ceiling?

*Y/n tries to move again*

Tom: Don’t move.

*Y/n lays flat on the ground*

*one of crew members proceeds to take pictures*

(Dream version)

*Dream talking to Lucienne about Rose Walker book*

*CRASH*

*y/n flat on the floor, in pain internally*

*Dream and Lucienne go to y/n side*

Dream: hello, y/n…

Y/n: hey, Dream *smiles* well that hurt…

Dream: don’t move a muscle..

Y/n: I’m fine :)

Dream: don’t move.

*Y/n attempts to sit up *

Dream: don’t MOVE.

*Matthew flies in*

Matthew: why is there a hole in the ceiling?

Dream: y/n. Don’t move.

*Lucienne picks up y/n gently to take her to the infirmary*

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scarletv0id · 1 year

Text

To create the perfect gift brings a feeling of purpose to such an act Dream has long since forgotten. Yet he can’t help but doubt that the landscape he’s lovingly crafted for Hob will not illicit the reaction he hopes he’ll have.

#sandman #the sandman #morpheus #dream #dream of the endless #dream the endless #hob gadling #dreamling #dream sandman #the sandman netflix #the sandman series #lucienne the librarian #lucienne #fluff

2 notes · View notes

roguelov · 2 years

Text

Only in Dreams

Summary: Married to Dream of the Endless, for centuries, you never expected to feel neglected. Yet even after his return, his attention turned to the Dreaming and ensuring its stability and future. While, your own needs and wants pulled at you. And soon your dreams were slowly filled with pleasure. Just not exactly from Morpheus.

Word Count: ~4k

Reader: Afab

Warning: smut (unprotected sex, oral receiving (afab), switch!reader, switch!dream, dirty talk, fingering), bits of angst, and some fluff

Tags: @lizajane2, @layla2-49

MINOR DNI/ 18+ ONLY

Soft light filtered through the tall windows. Specs of dust glowed in the light, casting a dreamlike hazy in the air. The royal library was a spectacular sight. Endless floors, and winding mazes of shelves, continued to grow and grow.

Comforting, and welcoming.

Yet, a squeaky cart echoed, disrupting the peace. Or it would if anyone else were here enjoying the thousands and thousands of books.

It was you, and you alone. You wheeled around the infernal cart, shelving new books added to the Dreaming. While, Lucienne was off collecting a new census, and as you suspected, a reason to step outside the library’s walls.

But, company soon appeared.

“And what are you doing?” A presence loomed behind you.

Smiling to yourself, you barely turned your head in acknowledgement. “Shelving books.”

Morpheus hummed. “Care to have some company?”

“I would love some,” you smiled. You continued to move down the bookshelf with Morpheus trailing along like your shadow. “So, what have you been up to, my king?”

Morpheus moved to the side of you. “Usual business.”

“How vague,” you teased a bit.

A smile twitched on his lips. “I do not wish to bore you with all the details on how to run a kingdom.”

You hummed, twisting to shelve another book. A mistake. Instantly, like a spring loaded viper, Morpheus pressed himself against your back. His hands curled around the shelves above, white knuckling it. Still facing ahead, you smirked to yourself, “Yes, my king?”

His hand fell from the wooden shelves, and circled around your waist. “Why do you address me as such? Call me by my name, sweetness.”

You leaned your head back and whispered in his ear. “Morpheus.”

A groan rumbled in his throat.

Your heart skipped. It was such a beautiful noise. You laughed through your nose. “I think you have lied to me. I think you are the one in need of some company.”

“Is that a problem?” He buried his face into your neck.

“No.”

“Good.” He pressed a gentle kiss, almost desperate to refrain himself, in the crook of your neck. “Oh, how I have missed you.”

“Have you?”

“Yes,” he breathed into the shell of your ear, sending pleasant shivers down your spine. “You have tainted my thoughts all day, I could not focus at all.”

You spun around in his grasp. Books and shelves dug into your back. But, you didn’t mind. “Oh, have I? And what have you thought about?”

His lips skimmed over your neck. “Treacherous things.”

You bit your lip, and craned your neck. “Tell me.”

“Where do I start?” He nipped at your skin, eliciting a low hum from you. “One was you, your lovely bare body, laid out for me on our silk sheets. And you were squirming under my constant touch.” His hands travelled over your body. A hand snaked up, skimming over your breast and wrapped around your throat. He lifted his head, gauging your reaction. Your eyes were glassy with lust. A mimic of his own. He laughed through his nose. His hand trailed down and gripped your hips. “And you were making the most wondrous noises.”

You sighed, lost in his touch and spellbinding words. Your hands latched into his hair, needing him closer and needing to ground yourself.

He hummed as you carded your fingers through his hair. His thumbs rubbed teasing circles on your hips. All of it calculated, all of it to pull you in. It was so far, yet so close to where you truly needed him. “One was us on my throne with you on top. Your head was thrown back as you cried out in pleasure.”

You let out a shaky breath. Fuck. You rubbed your legs together wishing for some sort of relief.

“Another was here in the royal library,” he pressed his forehead to yours, “tucked away in a corner, like now. And we have to be, oh so, quiet but you, my love, could barely contain yourself.”

You tugged on his hair, making him moan quietly. You laughed, “I could not contain myself? Are you sure it wasn’t yourself you were mistaking?”

His eyes sparked with hunger, his lips curled into a devious smirk. “Shall we test this theory?”

You opened your eyes.

Black silk drapery. Not the captivating blue of a certain Endless. Soft cushioning hugged your back. Not sharp, somewhat uncomfortable, edges of books and wooden shelves.

It was a dream.

A idiotic dream.

You laid here in bed, and not in the royal library about to have a battle of wits and pleasure. Yet, you couldn’t shake off the dream. His voice still echoed through your head like a siren’s call. You rolled over. Empty. You reached over touching the spot where Morpheus would sleep.

Cold.

You sighed, frowning slightly. He must have left a while ago. It was sweet he did not wish to disturb you, but you wished he did.

You needed him.

In many ways right now.

However, you did not blame Morpheus. He had finally returned after so many years away. He had regained his tools, and had more power which he hadn’t had in ages. He was stronger, and wiser too. But, the years away, also brought paranoia. He didn’t want the Dreaming to fade as it did. Rebuilding it all from ruins was a long tiring journey, and now the Dreaming was thriving. Dreamers rejoiced. But, he still worried. He had busied himself with every detail, with every minor issue, to ensure an everlasting success.

And in doing so, he had started to neglect you.

His love.

Of course, in the first week of his return, he hardly left your side. He worshiped you like a fallen devotee begging for your forgiveness, he murmured his love on every square inch of your body, and he showed you again and again how years away had ruined him.

But, a kingdom needed their king.

His attention drifted back to the Dreaming, and ever so slowly he drew away from you.

You sighed, sitting up.

Your hands rested in your lap. You fiddled with the black band on your left hand. A simple band dipped in an inky onyx black, yet when you twisted it, it shone like far off galaxies: purples, blues, flecks of green, and twinkling stars. It resembled Morpheus, and his love, in every way.

You softly kissed the ring. “Morning, my sweet king.”

With a heavy heart, and a droop in your shoulders, you got out of bed and went off to find work.

Day after day.

Night after night.

The fissure between you and Morpheus grew. And so, those dreams became more and more frequent, and more intense.

And you couldn’t turn away from it.

Morpheus slid down your naked body. His eyes, once a delicate enchanting blue, now sharp and filled with a dangerous hunger. His lips dragged the curves of your body. Goosebumps chased after him. You wiggled, and hummed.

His lips skimmed further and further then -

He darted around where you so desperately wanted him. He peppered butterfly kisses across your inner thigh. Fleeting and soft, all of it left you wanting.

“Morpheus,” you whined.

He chuckled and nipped at your thigh. You gasped. “Patience, my love,” he whispered.

He moved to the other side, leaving a new trail of kisses, and marks, on your thigh. You bunched up the bedsheets. “Please, Morpheus.”

Off, in the outer edges of the Dreaming, a king heard his love call out his name. Morpheus, who was diligently working on new dreams and nightmares, spun around. He cocked his head. Did he truly hear you?

“Morpheus.”

His eyebrows knitted together. Why did you call him? Why now? Has something happened?

Curious, he stepped away from his soon to be creations. The bind that connected the two of you, tugged at his chest. Taking a single step, the dark sandy beach vanished like wisps of fog. It was all replaced with a bedroom: your shared bedroom.

And a sight was there to greet him.

You sprawled out on the bed, legs spread, as himself - a copy - buried his head between your thighs.

A dream. You dreamt all of this.

The fake gently blew on your needy core. His eyes flickered up. Your face was turned and buried into the pillow. Your lips parted. Your heavy breathing filled the silence, anticipating - begging - for his next move.

Morpheus stared stunned. His mouth agape.

The fake swiped over your folds with the flat of his tongue, then sucked on your clit. Your jaw dropped as your eyes shut in pleasure. The fake finally dove in. His expert tongue swirled and stroked all the right spots.

“Morpheus,” you moaned.

Your hands flew to his tousled hair, gripping it for dear life. Your back arched in pleasure. The fake hummed, sending your mind spinning. You squirmed. His firm hand pressed on your stomach forcing you down and still.

Morpheus, the real one, couldn’t look away.

Emotions clashed inside of him: anger, sorrow, jealousy, and also spikes of desire. Each one desperate to dominate him, yet he couldn’t grasp on one. He could only watch numbly as a poor copy of himself pleasured you.

You bucked your hip, trying to ride his face. The fake chuckled. The vibrations sent another wave of pleasure through you. You began chanting his name over and over like a broken prayer.

“Come, my sweetness,” the fake mumbled against you.

Morpheus left.

He didn’t wish to see anymore.

Now, he had something he must do.

The next morning, you still woke to an empty bed. The dream from the night before was muddled and hazy but a dull ache lingered in your heart. Yet, you continued on. You put your head down and got to work. Lucienne mentioned something the other day about needing assistance, so you went there.

Hours passed.

You never saw Morpheus. Unfortunately, as you predicted.

You and Lucienne chatted and laughed. Your own sorrows were forgotten for a fleeting moment. However, neither of you were aware of the shadow looming around you. A certain someone who still couldn’t comprehend what he saw last night.

He watched as you smiled and laughed as if nothing happened.

And in a way, nothing did.

Morpheus simply saw something he wasn’t supposed to. But, it continued to dig at him. Why? Why didn’t you come to him? Why did you act as if everything was fine? Why were you hiding this?

Later, he decided. He would address this later.

In the waning hours of the day, snuggled in a plush chair in your grand bedroom, you mindlessly flipped through a book. One, you weren’t truly reading. Your eyes scanned over the pages. Letters barely formed words. They skittered over the page and swirled tirelessly in your mind.

You huffed, setting your book down. You turned your attention to the flickering fireplace. Its heat warmed your cheeks, surrounding and filling you. As you stared at the whipping colors, your mind drifted to where it wished to go since the beginning.

Your dreams.

Your damned dreams that ran rampant.

You couldn’t free yourself from them. Morpheus now consumed your every thought, consumed your every needs. Physically and emotionally.

A door creaked open.

You peered behind you to see Morpheus. You smiled easily, your head resting back. “Hello, my sweet king.”

“Hello, my love.”

Not expecting any more of this conversation, you turned back to the fire. You suspected Morpheus to go to bed, weary from a day’s work. However, he surprised you. He sat down in the chair across from you. His coat wiped and flourished. His fingers threaded together resting them on his lap. His matching onyx band twinkled in the fire light. His eyes slid over to the flames.

The crackle of fire filled the pressing silence.

You glanced at him out of the corner of your eye. His gaze was solely on the fire. His lips puckered in thought.

You may not have been physical in weeks, but it was daunting seeing how in recent days you hadn’t properly spoken to one another. It was awkward, and a little unnerving. It felt as if a stranger sat across from you.

“Are,” you began, getting Morpheus’s attention, “are you okay?”

Morpheus cocked his head in minor confusion. “Am I?”

“Yes, are you?”

“My sweetness, I am perfectly fine.”

You nodded.

“It is you who I worry about.”

Now, you were confused. “Me? Why?”

He sighed. The time has come. He got up and strolled over to you in three easy strides. Standing over you, he cupped your face. “Have I truly made you feel so abandoned?”

You scrunched up your face. “Abandoned? No, not -“

“My love, please, do not lie.”

“Morpheus, sweet Morpheus,” you hummed, smiling at him. Despite the obvious ache in your heart. “I don’t feel abandoned. I know of your duties and everything you must do.”

“But.”

You smiled softly. “I’m okay, I swear. You simply worry too much.”

The Dreaming is more important, you thought.

“Worry? Is it wrong to worry when I have forgotten the one I love?” He huffed. His thumb began to rub soothing circles on your cheek. “Yes, I do worry but, right now, I am more upset than anything.”

“Morpheus -“

“You needn’t lie for my pride. I already know the truth.”

You blinked.

He sighed, dropping his hand. “I have left you alone - needing - so you sought pleasure elsewhere.”

“What?” Your heart skipped. Fearful and slightly ashamed.

“You have used the Dreaming to create another me to fill your needs. I heard you calling out and to say I was surprised at the sight I saw is an understatement.”

Your cheeks warmed. You didn’t think he - “Morpheus, it’s fine. Honestly I don’t know why -“

“Tell me what you want.”

“Excuse me?”

He cupped your face with both hands, gently tilting your head back. He bent down. His lips brushed over yours, instantly drawing you in. “Tell me what you want, my love. Use me to fill your needs.”

“Morpheus -“

“Don’t,” he murmured against your lips. “A husband should care for the one they swore to love for eternity. And I have put my attention elsewhere. I’ve hurt you.”

Your hands slowly moved up bunching the front of his shirt. You haven’t had him - the real him - so close in a while. “You didn’t hurt me.”

It was the truth. You still loved him, always will.

He laughed once through his nose and smiled. “You are too good for me.”

Your hands wandered up further threading into the ends of his hair. You curled your fingers softly, nails scraping against the base of his head. He closed his eyes and hummed.

You bit back a knowing smirk. “It seems you have also neglected your needs, my sweet king.”

He chuckled. “I suppose I have.”

You finally pulled him in.

Your lips melded together. Like two puzzle pieces. Electricity ripples through your body. You tilted your head, deepening the kiss. He greedily followed your lead. You forcibly yanked on his hair. He moaned, opening his mouth. The perfect opportunity. Your tongue snuck in.

He groaned.

Your heart jumped. Oh, how you loved the noises he made. It drove you crazy. Each hum, each moan, seemed to go through you.

He smirked against you.

Although he may give himself over to you, he did enjoy teasing you. As your tongue swirled around, soon Morpheus quickly gained control. He knew exactly what to do and knew your own body better than yourself. In seconds, you were a puddle in his grasp.

You whimpered.

He gently guided you to your feet. His expert fingers trailed down your spine leaving sparks. Morpheus’s hands moved to your hips. You threw your arms over his shoulders bringing him impossibly close. You both clumsily stumbled around. Yet, your chest started to constrict. Your lungs burned. Air, you needed air. You broke the kiss and rested your forehead on his. Your chest heaved in chaotic unison.

Morpheus drawed your hips closer.

The simple friction was fire across your starved skin. You bit the inside of your cheek, humming.

“What do you want?” He whispered.

“You,” you breathed out.

You walked forward, pushing Morpheus backwards until he hit the edge of the bed. He flopped. His arms sprawled out to the sides, his coat draped behind him, his hair pointed in all directions, his cheeks flushed, his lips parted and swollen, and his eyes - oh his eyes - were soft in absolute adoration.

He smiled lovingly up at you. “Use me as you wish, my love.”

You didn’t need to be told twice.

You crawled up on top of him. You pulled him into another deepening kiss. He hummed, his hands flew up gripping your hips.

But, you ended the kiss quickly.

He groaned, disappointed.

You kissed the corner of his lips, down his face, over and up his jaw, then to his neck. He craned his neck back. You peppered kisses up and down his neck, and when you hit a certain spot, right at the crook, Morpheus’s hands tightened, possibly bruising your hips.

You smirked against his skin.

You nipped at him, starting to mark his perfect skin. He groaned, “(Y/N).”

It sent shivers down your spine, and directly to your core. His deep resonance, his pleas, it was dizzying.

Your hands snuck under his shirt tracing every taunt muscle. Your lips moved over his neck to the other side. He leaned, giving you easy access to nip, bite, and mark more of his skin. Your palm laid flat over his chest. His heart thrummed.

You leaned back.

He breathed heavily. His brilliant eyes darkened.

You grabbed the front of his shirt, yanking him up. Your lips smashed together, hot and heavy. And now, he decided to return the favor. His lips ghosted over your neck. Such a simple touch made your head fall back as you groaned.

He smirked.

Needing more, you grinded down.

Morpheus moaned, dropping his head on your shoulder. “Do that again, my love, and I won’t be able to control myself,” he mumbled.

You smirked, grinding down again. He chuckled darkly. He pulled back looking at you in the eye. His index finger and thumb wrapped around your chin, bringing you closer. “Is that what you want?”

Your pleasure meant the world to him. He wanted it to be about you.

“Yes,” you murmured.

“As you wish, my sweetness.”

You feverishly tore off each other’s clothes. Each layer fluttered to the bedroom floor, piles upon piles. Morpheus laid you gently on your back on the dark sheets. He hovered over you. He bent down kissing you softly. You hummed, knotting your fingers in his already messy hair. He pulled away, licking his lips.

Biting back a smile, you slowly pushed him downward. He smirked, taking your not so subtle hint. His lips trailed down your body.

His talented mouth kissed down the valley between your breasts then over to one. Slowly, taking one his mouth, he swirled his tongue over your perked nipple. You sighed, tightening your grip in his hair. His hand kneaded your other neglected breast. Working you, sending you into pleasure. He pinched your nipple.

“Morpheus.”

He popped out your breast and switched, working on the other one. You arched your back, moaning. He knew exactly what to do. He knew how to rile you up in the most delicious taintilizing ways. All of it, leaving you needing and begging for more.

His eyes flickered up. Your eyes were closed, as you fell apart to his touch. Smiling against your skin, he moved farther down, kissing and nipping at your skin. He nipped at your hips, then down your inner thigh.

You squirmed.

You were dripping, desperate for any friction, for some sort of relief. One finger dragged between your folds collecting your wetness. “Morpheus, please,” you begged.

“Patience, my love.”

One finger slid in, soft simple strokes. He was teasing you. Not offering you enough. You bucked your hips begging for more, desperately trying to ride his one finger.

Then he dove in.

His tongue swirled around your clit. You sighed in pleasure, and tugged on his hair. Another finger slid in. He pumped you, a soft rhythm, gently stroking your walls.

He curled his fingers, beckoning you.

You gasped. Your eyes flew open, and peered down at him. His dark eyes met yours. Buried between your thighs, he stared unwavering up at you. Heat spread throughout you. He curled his fingers again.

You moaned, your head falling back.

Each stroke brought you closer and closer and -

He stopped.

He removed his fingers and pulled away completely leaving you feeling utterly empty. You whined. Looking down at him, he put his two fingers, covered in your juices, in his mouth. He moaned at your taste. His tongue swirled around his fingers leaving you wishing it was you.

You bit your lip, whimpering.

He chuckled. “Do not worry, my sweetness. I’ll help.”

Crawling over top of you, he paused. He stared lovingly down at you. You smiled reaching up, cupping his face. He turned his head kissing your palm and down your inner wrist. He brought your hands over your head. Your fingers intertwined together. Your band and his clacked together.

He lined himself up.

He bent down kissing you.

Without warning, he slid in.

You moaned against his mouth, and he eagerly swallowed the noise. Breaking the kiss, he rested his forehead against yours. His dazzling blue eyes bore down at you. You smiled softly at him.

He rocked his hips.

Your face twisted in pleasure.

Slow and steady pace. Each movement filled and stretched you, each movement a show of his undying affection, each movement an apology for leaving you.

“Morpheus,” you whined.

“I know, bear with me, my love.” He dropped his head onto your shoulder. He kissed your skin as he gently rocked his hips. “You are truly too good for me.”

You tightened your hands in his. “I love you, Morpheus. Nothing will change that.”

“And I love you.”

He bucked his hips at a different angle. You moaned, arching your back. “Morpheus, please, faster.”

He smiled, and teasingly said. “If that is what you want.”

“Yes, more than anything.” You mewled.

He snapped his hips.

A new relentless pace. A string of curses left your lips. You instantly wrapped your legs around his hips. Pressure build and build. Your walls hugged his cock wonderfully, as he hit all the right spots. Like before, he knew your body well.

His heavy breathing fanned across your already hot skin.

He slipped one hand free from your grasp. Tracing down between your molded bodies, his finger circled around your clit. “Fuck,” you hissed, squeezing your eyes shut.

“Ah, look at me, my love.”

You cracked open your eyes to see the endless blue. He expertly swirled his finger again. Your mouth fell open.

“You are divine,” he whispered. Your wall fluttered around him, warning him. He groaned. He knew you were about to reach your end, and soon so was he. “Come for me.”

You whined.

“Come for your dear husband.”

His words fueled the already burning fire.

You cried out his name as you clamped down around him.

He smiled to himself.

He continued to work you through your orgasm sending you higher than before. Until, you were completely filled with ecstasy. You writhed beneath him, repeating only his name. Your mind clouded in only absolute pleasure.

Morpheus soon followed after. Your name tumbled off his lips in a low groan. He hovered over you, breathless. You smiled lazily, brushing his hair out of his flushed face.

He smiled down at you.

He fell down into the sheets. You instantly crawled over to him laying your head on his chest. Your ear pressed to his heart listening to its erratic beat as it began to slow down. His arms wrapped around you, unwilling to let you go. Not ever again. His finger drew lazy shapes on your still hot skin.

“If you need anything, do tell me,” he said, breaking the silence.

“Of course,” you whispered against his skin.

His index finger titled your chin back. His eyes connected with yours, and he smiled softly. “Please,” he repeated, “do not think your needs are less than. You are more important in every way.”

You matched his smile. “Do not say that or I’ll have you trapped in here.”

He laughed once. “Please do from time to time.”

You laughed.

He bent his head pressing a loving kiss to your lips. You sighed, closing your eyes. Slowly, he pulled away and whispered. “I love you.”

“I love you too.”

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