#matthew the raven x reader | Explore Tumblr Posts and Blogs

daddyjackfrost · 2 years

Text

Chapter 2: Hello, Again

╰┈➤ ❝ [stay with me ; morpheus ] ❞

morpheus x fem!reader

warnings: third person pov, 7k+ words (wtf), not a lot of morpheus in it (sorry), each break is a time jump, if u don’t like it don’t tell me i’ll cry. i obviously haven’t read the travels of marco polo… so

read chapter 3 here

stay with me ; masterlist

A light, summer breeze brushed against Y/n’s cheek, like a parent greeting a child for the first time.

Fluttering her eyes open, Y/n stared up at the bright blue sky. The grass beneath her was soft, a pillow of green scattered with bright flowers.

Pushing herself to sit up, Y/n took in the scenery before her. She laid in a beautiful clearing, one filled with flowers and tall grass. There was nothing beyond the field, not a tree or person in sight.

She was completely alone.

Breathing in the crisp air, Y/n stood. She smoothed her dress, a colour she did not recognize, but instantly fell in love with. Spreading her arms, she twirled. The grass tickled her feet but her laughter came from within.

Y/n began to walk. She had no destination, but her curiosity would not leave her still. The clearing, one she was sure she had seen before, had to have an end.

“Am I… dreaming?” Y/n asked herself, softly. She was afraid she might have disturbed the peace if she spoke normally. Bringing her fingers to her face, she began to lightly trace the structure of her face. Although she felt like herself, she could not be too sure.

A sudden thunder-like noise erupted around her, causing the land beneath her feet to shake. The once blue sky cracked, revealing darkness before it stitched itself back together.

Blinking, Y/n found herself standing in a forest. The empty field had been replaced with tall trees. The peaceful hum of wind was now accompanied by the sounds of birds. The forest felt different, dangerous, luring.

Y/n heard hurried, rustling footsteps approach her. Hiding herself behind a tree, Y/n’s eyes fell on a man dressed as a merchant. His hair had become unruly and his eyes were crazed, like an animal locked in its cage for too long.

“I am Marco Polo, and I am lost.” His words were slurred, hurried. Y/n watched him as he stood in between two trees, head darting to the left, and then the right in a loop. “I am Marco Polo, and I am lost.”

Stepping out of the tree’s safety, Y/n stood in the open. If this is a dream, surely I cannot be harmed, she reasoned. Taking a step towards the man, Y/n put her hand up in greeting. “Hello, there.”

The man, Marco Polo, jumped, letting out a quiet yelp. Snapping his head to Y/n, his eyes grew in size at the sight of her. Minutes later, he raised his hand. His lips parted but he shut them quickly, looking disheartened.

“My name is Y/n.” She smiled at the man, eyes trailing his dirty, worn out clothes. “Are you truly lost?”

The man nodded, solemnly. Licking his cracked lips, he spoke. “I am Marco Polo.”

“Greetings to you, Marco Polo. How long have you been lost?”

Digesting her words, Marco Polo held up both hands, spreading his fingers. He pressed his lips together, stopping himself from speaking.

Raising both her eyebrows, Y/n’s mouth fell open. “Ten years?” Her heart broke at the sight of his insanity. Staring at the man, she tilted her head. “Am I not dreaming? Have you been lost within a dream?”

Marco Polo nodded, his lips turned downwards. He wanted to tell Y/n his story, but he had lost the ability to speak normally long ago. His language consisted of eight words, and they had been his companions for a long time.

Y/n pursed her lips, in thought. She was sure this was a dream, but the man before her felt real. His anguish felt real. With a softer voice, she asked him, “have you forgotten how to speak?”

Nodding once again, Y/n sighed. “I wish you could speak more than eight words, Marco Polo. I would love to hear your thoughts. Your story.”

As water flowed through the Nile, words flowed down Marco’s throat, rushing to his head. His eyes widened as he tasted his thoughts on his tongue for the first time in a long time.

Y/n watched as Marco Polo’s eyes brightened, she took the slightest step back as he jumped, clapping his hands.

“Oh, thank you! Thank you! Thank you!”

Y/n let out a disbelieving laugh, her eyebrows furrowed as she clapped along Marco Polo. “You can speak!”

Marco Polo danced around Y/n, singing a merry song. She relished in his joy, deciding to put aside her curiosity. This is a dream, she thought. Anything can be possible.

Smiling brightly, Marco Polo grabbed Y/n’s hand, kissing it. “May you reign The Dreaming forever, Y/n. I will remember your kindness and worship you. You shall become my home’s patron.”

A confused smile rested on Y/n’s lips. “Pardon me, sir? I am afraid I do not understand.”

“You are a Goddess, yes? A ruler of The Dreaming?”

Y/n’s eyes widened and she brought her hands up in protest. “I fear you have mistaken me, Marco. I am not a Goddess. I am human. I do not know what I have done.”

Marco Polo’s eyes narrowed, raising an eyebrow.

“You wished me to speak.”

Y/n’s eyes widened, understanding him. “I wished you could speak, Marco. I could not have wished you to speak.”

Marco Polo did not understand. He smiled easily, waving his hand in dismissal. “Politics do not worry me. I have been separated from my father and uncle for far too long. No one here has yet to aid me.”

Looking desperate, he grabbed both of Y/n’s hands gently, capturing her full attention. “Help me, Goddess. Wish me home.”

Feeling helpless, Y/n played into the man’s fantasy. She could not wish him home. She was only human. She had no power, and he was just a dream.

“What is home?”

Marco Polo sighed in delight. “A caravan. It is old, but beautiful. Filled with candles and honey.”

Squeezing Marco Polo’s hands at his yearning, she whispered. “I wish you could go home, Marco Polo. Back to your beautiful, honey filled caravan.”

Y/n and Marco Polo stared at each other, one with hope, the other with sadness.

The sound of crushed grass and bricks travelled to their ears and they turned towards the sound. Trees to their right disappeared and in their absence, a path of brick lay. The brick path was long, fading into the distance.

“You have done it!”

“How?”

Marco Polo and Y/n shared a look before he dropped her hands, running to the path. Y/n watched with confused amazement as Marco Polo ran down the path, waving to her. She raised her hand, waving limply.

“Goodbye, Y/n! Bless you!”

Y/n watched Marco Polo disappear. Curious, she yelled, “Marco?” After a beat, from a distance, she heard a response. “Polo!”

Walking to the path, she crouched down and brushed the red bricks with her fingers. Solid under her fingers, she stood and stepped upon the path. Walking slowly, she thought of the strange man’s words.

The Dreaming.

Goddess.

She was not a Goddess, she knew that much. She was human. A human who had dreamed for the first time in over two hundred years. “I wonder why that is,” Y/n questioned herself.

Looking ahead, Y/n found her path coming to an end. The bricks ended and a new path, one made of stone that crossed a moat greeted her. Past the vines and stone, Y/n saw two beautiful homes.

Stepping off the brick path, Y/n’s feet swayed beneath her. Noises invaded her ears and she began blinking harshly. The stone path before her began to flicker, and Y/n let out a small sigh.

She was waking up.

“Next time,” she whispered. Y/n fell to her knees and shut her eyes. When she opened them again, she was looking up at her ceiling.

A secret smile on her face.

Finding herself at the entrance to two houses, surrounded by forest and green, Y/n was back in The Dreaming for the first time in ten years.

Every night for the last ten years, Y/n had tried to dream. She had tried every tea, herb, and scent, and yet she slept dreamless.

It was an odd feeling, to be back. And to have been gone.

This night had been the one night in ten years where Y/n felt truly alone. She had laid in her bed content, filled to the brim with love, but had wished to share it with someone. Immortality was a blessing hidden in a curse. And yet, she wished to live.

Being alone was a privilege Y/n had great acquaintance with, but she loved it. She had trouble identifying the difference between freedom and loneliness.

Lifting her maroon dress, Y/n walked towards the stone path she had seen ten years ago. She could hear faint voices from the houses.

Stepping on the stone path, Y/n felt a chill press into her skin. With each step, the chill pressed harder and harder until Y/n was gasping, in pain. Pushing herself, Y/n reached the end of the path, and laid her eyes on two houses. Before her eyes fell on two men.

“For heaven’s sake, Abel, if you cannot keep your gargoyle’s waste off my property, I will kill you.”

“Sorry, Cain. I promise Goldie’s trying.”

“Do not blame the gargoyle, Abel. They are intelligent creatures. You on the other hand…”

Y/n slowed at the sight of the two men. They were both short, with similar dark hair, beards, and brown skin. The one slightly taller had a sharpness to him. He was dressed slightly less proper than the other, shorter one. His ears were also pointy. The shorter one, Y/n noticed, had a softer look.

Staying on the edge of the stone path, Y/n raised her hand. “Hello, gentleman!” She called out.

Both of the men whipped their heads to her, mouths falling agape. The taller one tightened his grip on his yardstick. The shorter one smiled, raising his hand.

Y/n slowly walked towards them, taking in the beautiful scenery. She noticed how both houses complemented each man. They resembled countryside cottages.

Stopping before them, she smiled. Before she could offer her name or another greeting, the one with pointy ears spoke first.

“Who are you?” His eyes narrowed. “What are you? How did you get here?”

Before she could answer his questions, the shorter one cut her off. “Be nice, Cain. She’s a visitor!”

Cain turned to his brother, ready to wage a war. Y/n, having been quiet long enough, spoke.

“My name is Y/n. I am human. And I woke up here.”

“What do you mean you woke up here?” Cain’s words were accusatory, loud.

“Last time I fell asleep, I walked along a path that brought me here. Then I woke up. When I fell asleep today, I dreamt of being here.”

Cain and the other man she assumed to be her brother, stared at her. The other one’s eyes widened.

“You are a human?”

Y/n nodded. “Yes. Mind I ask what your name is?”

“Abel. I am Abel and this is my brother,” he pointed at the man next to him, “Cain.”

Y/n blinked. Once. Twice. “Cain and Abel? As in the sons of Adam and Eve?”

Cain and Abel looked at each other and then at Y/n. They both nodded. “Yes and no,” Cain said. “We are dreams that embody who we once were on Earth.”

Y/n’s eyebrows furrowed. “Dreams that embody…” She glanced at her hands, making sure she had ten fingers. “This is my dream. Have I dreamt you?”

Y/n felt confused. First, it was Marco Polo. A man she had never met, nor heard of. Now, it was Cain and Abel, men who had died a long, long time.

Cain scoffed. “We are not your dreams, we are part of The Dreaming. And you should not be here. You do not belong.”

“Cain,” Abel said. “She’s the first visitor we have had in a long time. I want her to meet Gregory! Oh, and Goldie.”

Cain’s eyes burned with rage, but he swallowed it. Y/n tried to remember their story, but all she could recall was murder. Unconsciously, she shifted closer to Abel.

Abel and Y/n looked at Cain, expectedly. With a resigned sigh that promised a war, Cain nodded.

“I suppose since you are already here, we can entertain you.”

Abel smiled at Y/n and waved her closer. As soon as Y/n stepped onto the grass, the land beneath her rumbled and her knees buckled. Cain and Abel held each other.

Once the land stopped shaking, Cain and Abel looked at Y/n. “Are you sure you are human?” Abel asked her. Y/n nodded, hoping to convince them and herself. “Promise.”

Abel, satisfied, smiled at her. “Well, come on then. Let me show you my home first.”

Y/n walked towards Abel. He motioned towards his home. “This is The House of Secrets. It is a focal location here, in The Dreaming.”

Y/n took in the cottage. It looked welcoming. “It is very beautiful, Abel.” Abel smiled, pleased. “It changes periodically,” he explained. “Secrets change, develop, as does the House.” He stopped just outside the door, frowning. “This is as far as I can take you.”

Y/n smiled, content. She had already seen so much.

“Thank you, Abel. Can I ask you a question?”

Abel nodded, giving Y/n his full attention. “What is The Dreaming? How can I dream…this?”

Abel scratched his beard. “Well, this is The Dreaming. When humans sleep, they come here. As for your second question, you should ask Lucienne.”

“Who is Lucienne?”

“The chief librarian. She has almost all the answers. However…you could ask Lord Morpheus. If you ever meet him.”

A wave of warmth washed over Y/n at the name. The pit of her stomach fluttered and her heart skipped a beat. “Lord Morpheus?”

“Yes,” Abel said. “He is the Ruler of The Dreaming.”

“Of course,” Y/n said. “How can I meet Lucienne?”

Abel raised an eyebrow, bringing his finger to his chin. “Not sure. Human’s can not enter the Heart of The Dreaming.”

Before Y/n could ask anymore, a small, golden, winged animal flew by her, landing on Abel’s shoulder. Y/n watched with utmost curiosity and amazement at the animal. Its large eyes looked at her, and she could have sworn it smiled.

“Y/n,” Abel smiled at her. “Meet Goldie.”

Y/n’s eyes softened at the animal. She gently reached out, hovering her hand over its head. Goldie tilted his chin up, her fingers brushing against his head.

“Beautiful,” she whispered. Looking at Abel, she asked him: “What is it?”

Abel blinked, he had never met anyone who did not know what a gargoyle was. With a jolly laugh, he patted Goldie’s head. “Goldie’s a gargoyle. Just a baby, though.”

“A gargoyle?” Y/n thought back to palace statues and old paintings. They did not look like this. They had been used as symbols of fear, but Goldie looked anything but.

“Have you yet to meet a gargoyle?”

Y/n nodded, suddenly shy. “The animals where I come from are not so… magical.”

“Would you like to hold him?”

Y/n’s eyes shifted from Goldie to Abel’s smiling face. He scooped the gargoyle in his hands and held him out. “Goldie is very friendly. His baby teeth have yet to come in.”

Y/n put her hands out. They trembled softly. She had been fine with mysterious lost men and biblical brothers, but a gargoyle felt different. Real. A proper dream.

Placing Goldie in her hands, Abel stepped back. Y/n laughed when Goldie rubbed his head against her thumb. His skin felt similar to the scales of a snake, yet softer. She brought Goldie closer to her face, smiling at him.

“You are exquisite,” she told him.

“Abel!”

At the sound of Cain’s loud, thundering voice, Abel and Y/n jumped. Frightened, Goldie flew out of Y/n’s hands and back to the roof of the House of Secrets.

Y/n and Abel turned to find Cain standing with his arms crossed, an impatient look on his face.

“That is enough,” Cain said. “Send her to my side so she can leave.”

Abel nodded, frowning. “Thank you for visiting, Y/n. I hope to see you soon.”

Y/n smiled, patting Abel’s hand. “Thank you, Abel. I shall never forget this.” Before Y/n walked to Cain’s side, she leaned towards Abel. “Cain is harmless, correct?”

Abel laughed but his eyes felt strained. “Do not worry, Y/n. The only person Cain will ever harm or kill is me. You will be fine.”

Mortified by his confession, Y/n wanted to ask questions, but Cain’s expectant voice interrupted her.

“Any day now!”

Smiling at Abel, she walked to Cain’s side. She noticed how his cottage was taller and darker looking. It looked imbalanced, like a story with one truth told many times.

Cain waited for Y/n with his arms crossed, his foot tapping the ground beneath him in a rapid, steady pattern.

Once she reached him, Y/n smiled. “Your house is very beautiful, Cain.”

Ice melted from Cain’s eyes and he dropped his arms. “Thank you.” He began walking and Y/n followed him. “This is the House of Mystery. My home.”

Y/n’s eyes followed the intricate patterns of the vines, each leading to its own mystery. The cottage had its own tower at the very top, with a dark window.

“Does your home change as Abel’s does?”

“No,” Cain answered, shortly. After a moment, he sighed. “Come. I will let you meet Gregory.”

Cain began walking towards the side of his home, and Y/n quickly followed behind him. Her eyes wandered, taking in the scenery. There was a shed and piles of flowers, scattered along the property.

Cain stepped aside and Y/n’s eyes fell on a large, sleeping gargoyle. Letting out a surprised laugh, she looked at Cain, amazed.

“This is Gregory.”

“He is… green.”

Cain blinked, surprised at her conclusion. “Yes. Gregory is green.” He raised a bushy brown eyebrow at her. “Not very bright, are you?”

Y/n stared at Cain before breaking out in a wide smile. Her smile blinded Cain, and he looked away.

“I have been told worse.”

Ignoring her, Cain tapped Gregory’s nose. Gregory released a long breath through his nose, fluttering his eyes open. Waking his body, the large gargoyle pushed himself up, shaking away slumber.

For the first time in her presence, Cain smiled when Gregory brushed his nose against his hand. Watching him, Y/n realized how much love Cain truly carried within him.

It was not his fault, Y/n thought, that his story had been written this way.

“What a good boy you are,” Cain whispered.

Gregory, with his large eyes, shifted his gaze to Y/n. Curious, he tilted his head. Grunting.

“Yes,” Cain answered. “She is human.”

“You can understand him?”

Cain nodded, stepping aside. “All residents within The Dreaming can understand Gregory.”

Gregory stared at Y/n and she smiled, unsure of what to say. “Hello, Gregory.” She raised her hand in a limp wave. “You are magnificent.”

Gregory grunted, and Cain looked bewildered. His eyes darted to Y/n before settling on her.

“Are you sure, Gregory?” Cain asked, hesitantly. Gregory grunted, to which Cain stepped back. Looking at her, Cain spoke his words slowly. “Gregory would like to speak to you. Alone.”

Y/n eyes widened and she looked from Cain to Gregory. “I cannot understand him.”

Cain’s lips lifted into a lopsided smile. “Yet, human. Yet.”

Cain turned and walked away, leaving Y/n alone with a large gargoyle. She threaded her fingers together, trying to keep her excitement and fear at bay.

Stepping towards Y/n, Gregory lifted his head. Striking eyes stared at her, swirling with wisdom she had yet to earn. Gregory parted his mouth and licked Y/n’s cheek. Y/n stared at Gregory, her mouth agape in surprise.

Y/n felt Gregory’s drool seep into her skin, she reached to her once wet cheek with awe. She looked at Gregory with questions that rested on the tip of her tongue. “What have you…?”

Y/n felt a soft prodding within her mind. A push at her conscience. With little hesitance, she opened her mind, welcoming a rush of warmth.

A low, slow voice whispered in her mind. It felt ancient, all-knowing. “You are not human.”

Staring into Gregory’s eyes, Y/n knew the gargoyle was speaking to her. “I am,” she responded. “I am human. I have always been human.”

“May you always be connected to your humanity, Y/n. Immortality is water, and you are but a stone. Slowly, with time, you will erode. Fragments will wash away and your humanity will dissolve.”

Y/n stepped back. Gregory’s words felt remorseful, promising. The concept of immortality had been left untouched by Y/n for years. She simply wished to live a mundane life for as long as she loved.

“Thank you, Gregory.” Hesitantly, Y/n lifted her hand and rested it upon Gregory’s snout. “You said I am not human. Why?”

Gregory’s head shook slightly. “Not all curiosity is welcomed, Y/n.”

Receiving the message, Y/n nodded. She rubbed Gregory’s snout, enjoying the feeling of his skin under hers. She breathed in the fresh air, feeling content.

Y/n heard footsteps approach her and she turned her head, smiling at Abel and Cain. The brothers watched her with a newfound appreciation, once she could not place.

In the distance, a loud caw echoed. Y/n lifted her head to the sky. She had heard that sound before. Y/n, Cain and Abel, and Gregory watched as a black and white raven landed on a nearby tree.

Narrowing her eyes, Y/n smiled. She lifted her hand off Gregory and waved at the raven.

“Jessamy!”

Jessamy croaked in response, watching Y/n with the same precision she used in the Waking World.

“You know Jessamy?” Abel asked Y/n.

Y/n nodded. “Oh, yes. I must have dreamt her here. She is a friend from…”

“The Waking World?” Abel finished.

Y/n smiled at him. “Yes. I wonder why I dreamed of her here.”

Abel opened his mouth, but Cain dug his elbow into Abel’s stomach, quieting him.

At her stare, Cain lifted his shoulders. “I think you should leave, human. Follow the raven back to your own dream.”

Y/n sighed, feeling dreadful. She did not want to wake up. She loved it here. It fulfilled her heart and yearning for company.

“I see,” she said. “Thank you for having me, Cain and Abel. I shall remember you both forever.”

Y/n turned, walking towards the stone path. Abel waved and Cain stood still, his arms beside him. Stepping onto the stone, Y/n turned back and smiled at the brothers. With each step further away, Y/n felt the thread of loneliness tighten around her heart.

Walking towards Jessamy, Y/n noticed how she looked bigger, more regal than she did in the Waking World. Nearing the raven, Y/n smiled. “Now, why would I dream you?”

Jesammy’s head tilted. She had been a raven for Morpheus and The Dreaming for a long time. And yet, she had never met a woman like Y/n. The raven, Morpheus’s most trusted, quite liked watching over the human.

Jessamy perched on the branch before she flew off towards the edge of The Dreaming, guiding Y/n to the place meant for her. The part of The Dreaming Morpheus instructed Jessamy to bring Y/n. Making sure the human followed, Jessamy flew low to the ground.

Y/n ran behind Jesssamy, wind brushing her hair and tussling her dress. The trees pulled towards her, grass parted as she stepped, and the air hugged her. She felt young, free, and so infinitely loved.

Jessamy stopped on a low hanging branch. She had reached the edge of The Dreaming. Looking down, her black orbs stared at Y/n’s huffing figure. Letting out a final caw, she flew off towards the heart of The Dreaming. Returning to Morpheus.

Y/n watched Jessamy fly away. She tasted a tinge of a bittersweet goodbye. Although it was a dream, Y/n could not help but feel that when she woke, she would never see Jessamy again.

“Goodbye, friend.”

The smell of cigars wafted through the air, mixing with the sweet smell of flowers and freshly cut grass.

Y/n’s eyes opened to the sound of haughty laughter. Brushing her hair away from her eyes, she pushed herself up into a sitting position, her gaze settling on a black raven and a man with a pumpkin head.

Shifting her eyes from the odd pair, Y/n breathed in the fresh air of The Dreaming, glad to be back after thirty years. She stood, patting down her soft pink dress. At the sound, the raven and pumpkinhead turned to face her.

“Merv, she’s awake!”

“I see that, bird. Great observation.”

Anxious as to what her time in The Dreaming would show her, Y/n waved at the pair before she walked towards them. Upon closer inspection, she realized that the man with the pumpkin head had a body made out of wood, and he was smoking.

“Hello, there.” Y/n smiled. “My name’s Y/n.”

“You shook The Dreaming when you appeared, Y/n.”

Y/n blinked. Thirty years was enough to forget about the magic The Dreaming held. And a speaking pumpkin was beyond her imagination.

“Merv,” the black raven sighed. “Just introduce yourself.”

Blowing out cigar smoke, Merv extended his gloved hand towards Y/n. “Mervyn Pumpkinhead, at your service.”

Y/n carefully grasped his hand before gently shaking it. She could feel the hardness of wood beneath his gloves.

The raven cleared his throat. “And I am Matthew, Lord Morpheus’s most trusted emissary.”

That name, Y/n remembered. I have heard it before.

Staring at the raven, Y/n smiled, remembering her old friend. “I did not know ravens spoke. The only raven I knew, Jessamy, never spoke.”

Merv and Matthew stared at Y/n before Merv narrowed his hollow eyes. “You know Jessamy?”

Y/n nodded. “I do. I have not seen her in years, but she was a friend.”

“Interesting,” Merv said, curiously. He glanced behind Y/n before looking at her. “Any reason as to why the ground shook when you appeared here?”

Y/n pursed her lips. She did not know why The Dreaming always had a moment of imbalancement when she made an appearance. Instead of answering the man that resembled bogeyman that farmers used to scare away birds, she clapped her hands.

“I have not visited The Dreaming in quite some time. Would you care to show me around?”

Matthew nodded, cawing. He spread his wings and lifted off the ground, setting himself on Merv’s shoulder. “Merv was just doing rounds. You should join us!”

Before Merv could disagree, Y/n smiled and began walking. Merv looked at Matthew with exasperation before following her. His legs were long and caught up with her quickly, until they walked side-by-side.

“Are you a dream, Mervyn?”

The pumpkinhead sighed, seemingly annoyed with the conversation that had yet to begin. “Just Merv, please. And yes. I take charge of the construction, maintenance, and demolition work in The Dreaming.”

Y/n hummed, listening. “I see. I did not realize that The Dreaming did not repair itself.”

Merv scoffed. “Oh, kid, trust me. It can. Dream can will The Dreaming to change. I exist because of free labor.”

Y/n’s eyebrows furrowed. “Funnily enough, I know someone named Dream as well.”

Y/n looked at Matthew. “You called yourself an emissary?”

Matthew nodded. “That’s right. Ever since Jessamy chose jobs in the Waking World, I have replaced her as Morpheus’s raven.”

“Can I meet Morpheus?”

Merv halted midstep, turning his head to stare at Y/n with his mouth agape. “Humans do not meet the Ruler of The Dreaming. He’s dramatic that way.”

Disappointed, Y/n’s shoulders sagged. “Oh. Very well, then.”

“Say,” Matthew began. “What were you doing just laying there?”

“I always lay on the grass before I open my eyes.”

Matthew and Merv shared a look Y/n was desperate to translate. Before she could ask, Merv pointed to their left. “I have a house to repair there. Let’s go.”

Turning, they walked towards the house. Y/n’s eyes deceived her as the scenery changed from a forest to rocky mountains.

As if stepping into a new world, her eyes soaked in all it had to offer. A small cottage sat in between two mountains, a river intricately placed, protecting it.

“How is this possible?”

Merv glanced at Y/n before knocking on the door. “The shorter answer is magic. The longer answer is too long.”

A winged woman with pointed ears and light hair answered the door, her dress shimmered in the sun. Y/n’s mouth parted in awe, having never seen a fairy.

Merv tilted his head upwards in greeting. “What is it this time, Fae?”

“Back door, Merv. I keep hitting it.” Her voice was soft, child-like. Bright, golden eyes met hers and Y/n grinned. The fairy smiled, waving shyly at her. “You brought a guest, Merv.”

“I came too!” Y/n was unsure whether ravens could frown, but she assumed Matthew was doing so.

Fae giggled, motioning them inside. “Matthew! How lovely to see you.”

The inside of Fae’s home was magical. It was beyond anything Y/n had ever seen, and she had seen many homes. Merv walked through the cottage as if he owned it and pulled a singular tool from his belt.

Y/n watched Merv work from afar as Matthew and Fae spoke to each other, quietly. She basked in the normalcy she felt being here, in The Dreaming. It was unlike anything she felt when awake.

“Can I offer you anything?”

Y/n turned to find Fae looking at her with shy eyes and a small smile. Shaking her head, she introduced herself. “My name is Y/n.”

“Fae,” the fairy responded. “Are you a new dream?”

Y/n’s eyebrows lifted. “A new dream? I do not think so. I am human.”

Fae’s nose scrunched and she looked at Matthew before looking back at her. “Human? But you are here.”

“Yes,” Y/n said. “Merv and Matthew brought me along.”

Fae was beyond comprehension. She chose not to speak further and simply smiled at Y/n.

“Done,” Merv said. He turned to look at Fae with a frown. “Try not to break anything for some time.”

Fae smiled a secretive smile. “I shall try.”

Merv and Matthew walked out the open door, and Y/n followed. She turned to look back at the fairy and waved. “Goodbye, Fae!”

Fae raised her hand, smiling. “Farewell, Y/n.”

Turning, Y/n found herself back in her treasured, familiar forest. Mervyn leaned against a large tree, smoking. Matthew flew in circles, stretching his wings.

The sight felt comforting to Y/n. A small part of her wondered if this is what she missed in her waking life. The magical nonsense an immortal being should be surrounded with.

“Well, kid,” Merv smiled. “Duty calls elsewhere.”

Matthew landed on her shoulder and Y/n pet his head. “Can I ask you a question before you leave, Merv?”

Merv nodded. “What is it?”

“Can a human… stay in The Dreaming?”

Laughing jadedly, Merv shook his head. “Funny, kid.” At her wide eyes and downturned lips, he sighed. “The Dreaming is a realm for humans to visit.”

“Unfortunate,” Y/n tried to smile. “I suppose I will have to visit often, then.”

Mathew chirped beside her. “When you visit next, come find me! I’ll give you a tour.”

Y/n grinned. “Thank you, Matthew.”

Mercy pushed himself off the tree, beckoning Matthew to follow. “See you later, kid.”

Y/n watched the pumpkinhead and raven walk away until they disappeared within the trees. Releasing a long breath, she decided to wander until she woke up.

Walking in the opposite direction, Y/n mulled over all she had learned about The Dreaming. She had yet to meet other humans, and she wondered about the Ruler of The Dreaming.

Lord Morpheus.

A warm pull tugged at her, making her stumble.

“Careful, there.”

Y/n’s eyes snapped to a man with golden hair and white clothing. He leaned against a tree, his eyes covered with round, black lenses. His smile was menacing, and everything about him, despite his light look, felt dark. Dangerous.

Y/n smiled at him, pushing away ill feelings. She had yet to meet an unpleasant creature in The Dreaming.

“You alright?”

Y/n nodded, smoothing out her dress. “Yes, thank you. I’m Y/n.”

The well-dressed man pushed himself off the tree and walked towards Y/n, the way predators stalk their prey. Y/n tried her best not to cower.

Extending his hand, the man bowed lightly.

“Corinthian.” He kissed Y/n’s hand. “A pleasure.”

Y/n smiled. “I was just walking aimlessly. Would you like to join me?”

The Corinthian’s smile was unlike anything Y/n had ever seen. It repelled the forest, pushing the trees away. “It would be an honor.”

Linking arms at the elbows, Y/n and the Corinthian began walking. Their skin did not touch, but Y/n could feel chills run through her.

“Are you a dream, Corinthian?”

Corinthian let himself dwell on the notion of being a dream for a moment before he answered.

“Unfortunately, I am not.” He watched Y/n’s reaction. “I’m a nightmare.”

“A… nightmare?”

The Corinthian nodded, feeding off her slight fear. She hid it well, Corinthian mused. Very well.

“Does that frighten you?”

Y/n considered her answer. It did not frighten her as much as it surprised her. In her mind, nightmares were dark and terrifying creatures. Words she would not use to describe the man beside her.

“No,” she decided. “A human must dream and have nightmares for a balanced life. I suppose I did not expect a nightmare to be so… charming.”

The Corinthhian smiled, pleased. “Is that right?” He swiftly turned them towards the direction of the Gatekeepers. “Can I ask you something, Y/n?”

Y/n nodded. “Anything.”

“What is it like to be human? Free?”

Y/n tilted her head in thought. She had not been expecting a question about freedom. After a few quiet moments, she answered.

“To be human is to be alone. Wrong. Free, yet not completely. I am fortunate enough to be able to do what I please, but many others cannot. Freedom is not definite, and means something different for each person.”

The Corinthian said nothing as he digested her words. Her words were human enough, and they quietened the hum in his heart.

Y/n’s eyes grew heavy and she slowed. She recognized the feeling. Her body was waking, and she silently cursed it.

The Corinthian unlinked their arms, tipping his head. “A pleasure, Y/n. We will have to do this again.”

Before she woke, Y/n watched him walk away until the world around her grew hazy and she shut her eyes.

The smell of oak and ink invaded Y/n’s nose as she opened her eyes, finding herself at the entrance to a vast and never-ending library.

Aisles and aisles of books surrounded her. Some with names and others with titles she had never read. Low, yellow lights illuminated the library, reminding her of her own library. She swallowed her disappointment, replacing it with awe.

With a gentleness only a scholar could afford, she traced the spines of the books as she walked down an aisle, whispering the titles under her breath. It had been seventy years since Y/n had visited The Dreaming for the first time, and she was glad she had dreamed of a library instead of a forest.

Reaching the end of the aisle, Y/n found a staircase leading to a higher level. Curious, she climbed the stairs quietly. Walking down the corridor, she found herself mesmerized by the architecture of the library. Much like her own, this library was made completely of wood and metal.

Reaching large wooden doors with intricate designs made by vines, she pushed them open. The walls of the room held an uncountable amount of books, and in the middle, a large pedagogical desk rested. Walking into the room, Y/n’s eyes drank in the room.

The organized chaos was pleasing to her. It resembled her own library, her life. She silently praised the occupant of the room, hoping to meet them. An inkling told her she would be good friends with them.

Brushing the spines, she breathed in the familiar smell of ink and wood.

“Can I help you?”

Startled, Y/n spun to face the office doors. Her eyes landed on a black woman wearing a brown suit. Her hands were locked, resting on her stomach. Her shaved head displayed her pointed ears, which resembled Cain and Abel’s. Circular, vintage eyeglasses rested on her nose.

“Oh my, you surprised me.” Y/n placed a hand on her resting heart, willing it to slow. At the woman’s expectant eyebrow, she explained herself. “I apologize,” she said. “I woke here and began to wander. This room looked very tempting. All these stories…” There was awe in Y/n’s voice.

The woman’s eyebrow lowered until they furrowed.

“Woke here? In the library?”

Y/n nodded, giving the woman her full attention.

“Yes.”

The woman pushed her eyeglasses back onto the bridge of her nose. “That is not…” She paused before smiling. “I am Lucienne. The chief librarian. This is my library.”

A relieved laugh escaped Y/n before she grinned. “Lucienne? Oh, how I have wanted to meet you. I am Y/n.”

At her name, Lucienne’s smile dropped and her eyes widened. Y/n watched an infinite amount of emotions dance across Lucienne’s face before she settled on nonchalance.

“A pleasure to meet you, Y/n.” Lucienne’s words seemed earnest, but Y/n was no fool to faux pleasantry. She had, after all, spent centuries with all kinds of men and women.

Lucienne walked into the room and sat at her desk. She motioned for Y/n to take the opposite chair.

“Please,” she said. “Join me.”

Y/n joined Lucienne, sitting on the opposing chair. Both women looked at each other before smiling. Y/n’s eyes travelled along the book titles. “The books,” she began. “I have never seen nor heard of many of them.”

Lucienne laid her hands flat on the desk. “My library consists of the books and stories that have ever been dreamed, volumes that do not exist in the waking world.”

“That is magnificent,” Y/n whispered. Lucienne could not help but smile at her awe, knowing Y/n loved books as much as she did.

“The names…”

“The library consists of records of every human’s life in the Waking World as well as The Dreaming.”

Y/n’s eyes widened. “Does that mean I have a book?”

Lucienne pursed her lips, contemplating. She was unsure of how much to share with Y/n.

“Not entirely,” Lucienne finally answered. “You are a special case, Y/n.” Before Y/n could ask questions, Lucienne spoke again. “I am afraid I cannot share anymore.”

Deflating, Y/n sat back in her seat. She decided she would add Lucienne’s words to the never-ending list of questions and the unexplained. Changing course, she asked Lucienne a question that had been on the tip of her tongue.

“Abel said you had all the answers. Do you, Lucienne?”

Threading her fingers together, Lucienne tilted her head, curious. “That would depend on the question, Y/n.”

Hesitancy dancing on her tongue, Y/n pursed her lips. Sighing, she met Lucienne’s penetrating gaze. “Is it possible to meet someone here, in The Dreaming?”

A list of potential names appeared in Lucienne’s mind. “It is.” After a moment, she asked, “who are you looking for, Y/n?”

For the first time in a long time, Y/n felt nervous. After many years, she finally understood why she had begun to dream.

“Immortality is a blessing,” she said. “I am thankful for it everyday. I have loved and lived. However… I never realized how lonely it would get.”

Lucienne drank in her words. Her interactions with humans were limited, and hearing Y/n speak opened Lucienne’s mind to human wants and needs. Books could only teach so much.

“There is a man, well, not a man, but a being who visits me every century on the same day. He is not a conversationalist, nor has he many manners, but his company washes away the loneliness. Perhaps it is because he too is immortal, and understands.”

Lucienne’s breathing stopped, and her heart sped up. From context, she knew it was Morpheus that Y/n spoke of. Lucienne assumed it had been a loved one, perhaps a husband or friend that Y/n yearned to meet.

Lord Morpheus had never been an option.

“This… being,” Lucienne kept her voice light, “what is his name?”

Y/n smiled. “Oneiros.”

Against her better judgement, Y/n missed the strange man’s company. It was comforting to know she would see a familiar face when those around her passed, and that he would find her anywhere.

A hundred years was too many years. Even for an immortal.

Lucienne released a long breath. She could not tell Y/n that the being she wished to see was the King of Dreams, the Ruler of Nightmares.

“I have never heard of him.” Lucienne’s voice wavered.

The lie burned Lucienne’s tongue, a dark mark on her once clean record. Lucienne was not a liar, but she had become one now. For The Dreaming, she reasoned. That is all.

Y/n’s shoulders sagged and she frowned. Years of interactions had her fluent in human behaviour. She knew Lucienne was lying, but Y/n was in no position to call on a dream.

Compared to Lucienne, Y/n was a singular file, one in millions.

“I see,” Y/n hummed. “Perhaps that is for the best. I will see him in thirty years.”

Lucienne smiled. Her eyes drifted behind Y/n for a moment before settling back on her. “I apologize, Y/n, but I have business to attend to. You are free to explore my library as you wish.”

Y/n smiled at Lucienne. “It was very nice to meet you, Lucienne. I hope we meet again.”

Lucienne walked out of the room and turned down the hall, disappearing. Y/n sat in the chair for a minute before standing and making her way back to the main floor. The closed walls and infinite books soothed her spinning mind.

Strolling down a random aisle, Y/n said every name she read outloud. These were stories of actual people that lived, had lived, or would live. Y/n’s eyes landed on a name she had not thought about in years.

Pulling out the maroon book, she read the title softly, a laugh bubbling in her throat.

“The Travels of Marco Polo.”

Flipping through the book, her eyes widened as she saw her name. Sitting down, she read the passage written about her out loud:

“‘A dream holds enough treasure to please an ordinary man, but an ordinary man cannot be lost in a dream in search of treasure. He [Marco Polo] had been trapped in a dream for ten years before he met a Goddess. Her name was Y/n and for the first time, his wish was not for treasure or for travels, but home. His dream had changed, and it had come true. With the kindness of a Goddess, Marco was sent home.’”

“Well ain’t that just sweet?”

Y/n lifted her eyes from the page to the familiar face of Mervyn Pumpkinhead. She smiled at him, shutting the book. “Hello, again.”

Merv raised his hand in greeting. “Should have known it was you.”

Y/n raised an eyebrow. “Sorry?”

“The shaking? It broke a shelf and Lucienne asked me to fix it.”

Y/n stared at Merv before glancing at the books around her. “I did not feel any shaking.”

“Huh…” Merv shrugged his woody shoulders before looking above her. “You’re an interesting thing, kid. See you around.”

Merv walked away and as Y/n called out to him, small soft grains of sand hit her face and she grew immensely tired. The book slipped from her hands and her eyes drooped.

Slumping, Y/n’s head rested against a shelf. Before she shut her eyes for good, a blurred familiar face whispered in her ears.

“Sleep.”

Lucien was a proper and sophisticated dream. She was the chief librarian of The Dreaming. She had innate responsibilities and yet, she could not find it in herself to walk to Morpheus’s throne room.

She ran.

Pushing open the doors, Lucienne bowed hurriedly before threading her fingers together.

“Not even a knock, Lucienne?”

Tilting her head to the ground, Lucienne winced. “I’m sorry, my Lord, but there has been a significant development.” A pause, and then, “about Y/n.”

Morpheus stood on the tenth step, facing his throne. His back was to Lucienne but he could sense her worrisome mood and distress.

“What is it?”

Lucienne stepped forward, her throat dry. “She appeared in the library, sir. She woke up there and walked around it. It is very rare for a human to make it close enough to the gates, and yet she reached my library?” Lucienne rubbed her hands together. “What is she, my Lord?”

Morpheus listened to Lucienne with his utmost attention. He could not tell Lucienne that he knew she had woken in the library. Morpheus did not know how to explain to his librarian that he knew when she was here because he felt a pull in him and it did not let go until she was gone.

Morpheus could not declare to Lucienne that everytime Y/n came closer to him, he allowed it. There was no explanation for his behaviour, for his unconscious need to quiet the hum she rose in him.

Morpheus would not tell Lucienne that Y/n washed away his loneliness, and that his curiosity about her overpowered his need to implement his rules.

And so, the Ruler of The Dreaming said nothing of importance.

“If she brings no harm to The Dreaming, Lucienne, then she is welcome. Just as all humans are.”

“Do you believe she is human, sir?” Lucienne could not believe that her Lord would dismiss her concerns as so. “She sent Marco Polo home. She appeared before Cain and Abel. She visited another dream. Humans cannot do that.”

Morpheus turned, facing Lucienne. His librarian was distressed, and to ease her mind, Morpheus spoke again. “There are some humans that are stronger dreamers than others. I will look into her, Lucienne. You shall not worry.”

Lucienne pursed her lips before nodding. After all, it was his realm.

“Understood, sir.”

Lucienne hurried out of the throne room and Morpheus sighed. In thirty years, he would see her again and ask his questions.

Morpheus would know the woman haunting his dreams.

1K notes · View notes

igotanidea · 1 year

Text

Be careful who you bring home : Morpheus x reader

part 2 is up

request/summary by anon: you know how people get pets for emotional support? reader with anxiety or fear of loneliness finds a big black cat in a park and she is just: yeah, you are coming home with me. cat happens to be post imprisonement!morpheus. he wants to argue, but she quickly takes him to her apartment which is conveniently close to the park. reader cooing to cat: who is my little baby and Matthew seeing it from the street and laughing at his boss. with 142 for reader (maybe he said something while being a cat) and 153 for morpheus.

142 was "it's just your imagination", 153 was "put me down" I might have changed the request a little bit but I hope you'll like it. Also thete is a bit of a twist/ crossover in the story. Wonder if you'll get it :D

***

„Have you ever considered getting a pet?”

The girl in her mid-twenties, dressed in comfy, black clothes sitting in front of the therapist frowned in confusion.

“A pet” she repeated “and why would I need that?”

“You know, it is proven that they have positive effect on people who suffer from depression and anxiety, so maybe this would be a good idea for healing process”

“Do you give such advice to all of your patients, doctor Raynor? Did you give such advice to Bucky, as well?”

“We both know he is not that kind of guy.”

“Really, why not?” the girl shrugged “he had some goats in Wakanda after all.”

“Stop joking around.”

“Jeez, fine. I won’t get a pet. In my current mental state I can barely take care of myself, let alone any other living being. Any other words of wisdom coming from you?”

“Not with this attitude. You may leave for now.”

“You know if I was paying you that would be the shittiest session not worth a dime.” She grabbed her coat and without a word, hands in the pocket left the room and not-so-pleased therapist.

A pet. Good joke. A four legged animal who would wake her up in the morning and at night asking for food or caress. A being that would turn her life upside down since it would require constant care and supervision to avoid destroying her apartment. Nope. Thank you very much. She was good enough by herself. Determined to get her head and broken soul back together and get clearance to get back to SHIELD and field operations. She missed that, but apparently beating up a bunch of bad guys leaves you in emotional trauma and in need of recover. Bullshit! She was an agent, for god’s sake, not a crying mess. Her attitude was far from cheerful and optimistic but just today she had to curb her murderous thoughts since one of her nieces were supposed to visit. Jemma was five years old and was still going through her princesses, pink glitter and unicorns faze. She was a challenge to be around, but definitely worth it. Her father, agent’s sister were supposed to drop her in straight to the house, but just a minute ago she got the message about the change in plans. Since the weather was beautiful and it was not often this time of the year, he took the chance for a little walk in the park and decided to meet his sister there instead of in the four walls. As she approached the park, she noticed her family amongst other walking people. Jemma was running around, picking leaved and jumping into the pools with loud, happy squeals. She could not hold back the tiniest smile on her face.

“She’s gonna get all wet and dirty and then who will tend to that?” the girl mocked while coming closer

“Hm, don’t know. I think at this point she would be someone else’s responsibility.”

“Hello, brother.”

“Hello sister” he hugged her tightly “how you’ve been? Life still kicking you in the guts?”

“I mean, when it doesn’t? You know my line of work….” Her brother was convinces she was just some regular office worker dealing with boring documents, since that was simply safer for everyone.

“Right, so mundane and ordinary…..” he rolled his eyes

“Auntie!” Jemma turned around and run straight to her favorite relatives not caring about the mud she left on her trousers while clutching to her legs.

“Hi, cupcake. Don’t you have to much energy?”

“I have so much to tell you! About the rhyme I’ve learned and some new letters I came across and my friends and everything” little girl jumped around in excitement “And I know a new magic trick dad showed me. But I still don’t quite understand it….” she frowned

“It;s ok, cupcake, we can work on that.”

“Oh, thank god. Like I said, your responsibility now. Good luck.” Girl’s brother was quick to get himself some freedom “just don’t give her too much sweets, you know how she gets after that”

“Yeah, too well. See you in a couple of hours then. Come on, Jemma” she took her niece’s little hand sticky with some mysterious substance “ let’s go home.”

If only it was that easy. They only took a couple steps when the little one broke out from aunt’s grip.

“Look, auntie, a cat!” she run over to the bench where unusually big and beautiful animal was soaking up the sun. Before he realized what hit him, he was squeezed and carried by a little pair of still sticky hands and it was visible he did not like it.

“Jemma! Leave that animal alone. It may hurt you.”

Do not refer to me as “it”. I am a male personification. And put me down! Immediately!

She could swear she heard something in the back of her mind, but let it go. After all, cats do not talk and she was in therapy for mental trouble so it was probably just her mind playing tricks on her.

“Can we take him home, auntie, he’s so sweet, please” little girl pouted

“No. Of course not, look at… him. He is very good looking, so most probably belongs to someone. Not a chance he’s a stray cat. “

“I can’t see anyone looking for him” a couple tears showed up in Jemma;s eyes. “Please, auntie, please….” Great, now she was crying out loud getting the attention of few pedestrians.

“Ok, fine, fine, just please stop crying.”

“Thank you” Jemma stopped her actions in a second and smiled widely showing the jags in her mouth. “I will carry him so don’t worry about it, auntie” she held the cat even closer not caring about him writing in her embrace.

“Just be careful so he won’t hurt you” she warned following her niece, wondering what the hell she got herself into.

I will not hurt this little mortal.

At this point, the older girl was pretty sure she was going crazy. And to think that Raynor wanted her to have a pet to help her mental health, not deteriorate it.

***

“Auntie, look, I made him pretty”

“Mhm, great” she did not even bother to look up from some records she was currently reading “wait, you did what, Jemma?” a second later she came to realization what a five-year-old girl can mean by saying “made pretty”.

“Look, auntie” said five year old was quick to get the cat out from behind and proudly present it. Despite her rather gloomy attitude the older one could not hold back a laugh. Black fur was now embellished with colorful glitter and was wearing a crown. If it wasn’t for the lack of resources at home Jemma would probably extend her imagination even more.

“Oh” she cooed “look who’s pretty boy” her grin was now getting wider and wider. She was no expert on animal behavior but the look on its face clearly indicated it was not happy with the situation.

“I wanted to give him a braid, but the fur was too short” Jemma saddened

“Don’t worry sweetie, it looks just perfect. Like a ….”

“Princess!” Jemma squealed and turned around with the cat still in her embrace.

“Don’t you both dare. This is humiliating”. Once again there was this little voice inside girl’s head.

“Ok, honey, why don’t you let go of the cat now. I got a snack for you.”

“Chocolate cake?” Jemma asked innocently while playing with her fingers and shyly looking at the floor

“Apple and carrots”

“That is boooooring. And I don’t like carrots” Jemma whined

“Well, too bad for you. I heard veggies give you strength. And then your skin looks healthy and shines almost like the cat’s fur. Wouldn’t you like to look beautiful?”

“I’d rather be smart” Jemma retorted taking her aunt aback with maturity of this sentence “but I guess beauty can help in future. I saw on TV that pretty girls always have what they want so whatever” she shrugged and rushed towards the kitchen where the snack was already waiting for her.

“Unbelievable” her aunt shook her head “but she’ll be busy for a while, so how about we get you all cleaned up, huh?” she picked the cat from the floor and walked towards the bathroom ignoring the writhing animal, who was not happy about forced wash.

Put me down! It demanded again and the girl stopped looking him straight in the eyes trying to check out if she was really going nuts.

“Oh come on, girl, get yourself together. It’s just your imagination.”

She walked straight into the bathroom and started gently combing out the fur. Surprisingly, her action bring the animal comfort because surprisingly to both of them he started purring.

***

Two hours later, tired and sleepy Jemma was picked up by her father and her aunt could finally let the cat out into the wild. It was impossible earlier since the little girl was checking on him every five minutes, refusing to drop this action.

“Sorry about today. “ she muttered opening the door “but hey, on the bring side at least you have a nice story to tell to your fellow cats. Besides, you really are a pretty animal.” maybe it was another impression or the flicker of lights, but it seemed like the cats fur became a bit reddish and he squinted. “go, now, find your owners, get home safe, fella.”

It was just a couple of hours, but the girls was actually starting to think that maybe, hypothetically, Raynor was right about this whole “emotional support pet” stuff.

***

Morpheus bristled and crossed the street. Only on the other side of the road he changed back into the anthropomorphic personification of dreams.

“Um, boss?” his loyal yet rebellious Raven perched on the branch, tilting his head slightly. If he was still human he would probably laugh himself silly.

“Not a word, Matthew. Not a single word about it. To anyone” he reached for his sand and completely ignoring further words of the bird transported them back to the Dreaming “Do I make myself clear” he made sure before entering the palace.

“Sure thing, boss. But it was funny don’t you think?”

“Hold your tongue, Matthew!”

@somest1 @pinksirensong

790 notes · View notes

madhattervanessa · 10 months

Text

Valerian Root

This is a blurb I have been writing on for a while - it might spin off into a longer fic but I’m not sure I’ll ever upload it... if I’ll ever do it, you’ll find it on ao3

Pairing: Morpheus/Dream of the Deathless x f!Witch!Reader

Summary: As you suffer from another wave of migraines, an unexpected guest returns to your home to take care of you... in more ways than one.

Warnings: Migraines, consensual-ish drugging (It’s for the reader’s health) and sudden appearing in readers living spaces, nipple play, biting, scratching, grinding/dry humping, rough-ish p in v sex

Words: 4646

Masterlist - Mobile Masterlist

“I seldomly see you return this often, little witch.”

Your eyes stray from the beautiful scenery and towards the edge of your dream, the fibrillation coming from the deep timbre catching your attention - because despite opium and valerian root making for potent sleep and pain aiding drugs, this was not one of the usual effects.

You find him wandering through the darkness at the edge of the clearing before he manages to come closer, through the soft grass and into the light.

His long coat swishes through the moss and ferns as he slowly approaches, like someone attempting to feed a stray cat. Centuries of experience make him know to be careful - your dreams had always been fragile bubbles of calm and you’d grown protective of them even as a child. Now, more than ever, he was reminded of your first few meetings.

He knows, even cats who have grown docile will bite if given reason.

You purse your lips and avert your eyes towards a pile of books off to the side. He lets his eyes trail over you, the long, lightweight gown that floats just shy off the ground as you sway back and forth on the padded swing you sprawled out on.

He stops just shy of the swing, his presence carefully pushing into your personal space, gently intruding, waiting for you to pounce, retreat… or stay.

His coat is shed as he takes another form, jumping up into the swing with you to rub a soft cheek against your bare leg, carefully nudging the thin fabric covering you.

You smile and set your eyes upon the large, black cat nuzzling into your skin. You reach out and carefully pet his chin, moving on to his cheek before it smashes against your skin again.

A low rumbling purr starts as you continue caressing the soft fur behind his jaw, your other hand reaching for a book to read.

You keep the illusion for a while but then the walls of it shudder again and a slither of pain runs down your spine as the connection to your body strengthens again, the dreaming barely holding on.

You groan as you wake, still trying to hold on to the comfort your dream had brought you but it’s too late: The sharp pain and thrumming behind your eyes has returned with viciousness. You forcefully try to relax the muscles in your face as you look over your sun filled apartment.

It’s of no use, though.

So you carefully detangle from your sheets and pad through your apartment towards the kitchen.

There’s already some darkness creeping over the smooth tiles there. You sigh as the first step brings a cooling sensation underneath the soles of your feet, a short lived comfort.

You click the electric kettle on and grab a fresh thermos before filling it with your hand mixed tea as well as some honey.

As you wait for the water to boil, you hear the pearl curtain in your hallway clatter softly, despite it being absolutely windless in your apartment.

You’ve reached for a knife without much thinking. Your heartbeat immediately feels more prominent than your nausea as you peek around the fridge, down towards the hallway.

No one there.

You’re about to sign off of it being all in your imagination. But checking other rooms would not hurt. It had never been a bad idea in any century.

The kettle clicks and you hear as the water starts boiling.

But as you take a step backwards, the hair on the back of your neck stands and goosebumps litter your arms as you feel a presence stepping closer.

“Put the knife down, little witch.”

You jump, despite the soft murmur, and the knife clatters to the ground.

Two hands quickly envelop your shoulders and pull you back, the knife’s edge only just missing your bare feet.

You turn your head. “Morpheus”, you murmur, returning the fond look he has leveled at you, his hands slowly smoothing down your arms as he takes you in. “I- I have not called upon you-”

“I made time, after sensing your distress.”

He lets you go and carefully picks up the knife from the ground. Meanwhile you are still standing, quite starstruck, trying to make sense of this.

The last time you had seen him had been just months ago, a brief meeting after a hundred or more years of his disappearance. Nothing but a quick reassurance that he was back and would return to you once the rebuilding of the dreaming was done. Paired with a short request to look after a particular member of the Constantine family.

He strolls past you and into the kitchen. As you turn to follow him, another wave of nausea crashes against you and you hold on to the doorframe before deciding to sit down at the desk on the other side of the hallway.

The clinking and clattering from the kitchen grates against your sensitive nerves and you hesitantly open an eye to watch as he fills a teacup with boiling water before sprinkling some of your tea mixture into it.

The clattering stops and you close your eyes again, trying to focus on the distinct silence and the way the air seems filled with his presence.

A soft touch to your knee makes you open your eyes again to find Morpheus kneeling in front of you, the cup of tea in one hand and a small, white pill in the other.

You roll your eyes, contrary to your smile, despite the pain it causes.

“You know I don’t like painkillers-”

“Amuse me.”

You glare at him, your smile falling as you look back towards his offerings. As you reach for the teacup, purposefully ignoring the pill, he levels another soft and openly amused look at you.

“I’ll have the tea. Thank you”, you murmur and he sighs before tilting his head in silent acceptance.

You tentatively sip at your tea, finding at the perfect temperature. He watches closely as he gets up and you take another gulp. The pill is placed on the desk, well in sight of your weary eyes.

“Have it your way, then.”

“I always do. You know Hecate makes sure of it.”

The reference to the Moirai makes him straighten up for a second before he smiles - no doubt catching your remark as what it is.

You had not just idled around, you had found out where he had been all this time, what exactly he had been up to.

As you sip your tea, he follows his own curiosity, doing what he hadn’t been able to do the last time; carefully cataloging your apartment, the changes, the new additions. One of them being a plush armchair, the blue hues of its padding close enough to his eyes to have reminded you of him, just like the dark wood had reminded you of his attire and hair.

The dull ache in your head goes on and you hardly listen to the sounds surrounding you, trying to focus on your heartbeat.

That is, until you hear the dull sounds of boots falling, one by one, harshly interrupting your meditation.

“What are you doing over there?”

You turn to find him carefully draping his coat over said armchair as a wave of drowsiness overcomes you, his boots already neatly stacked underneath.

His pants follow, leaving him in underwear and a shirt, just like you.

You look him up and down before meeting his eyes and your breath hitches, the urge to get up and join him increasing with every second of eye contact shared between the two of you. But then there’s another wave of drowsiness and the pounding pain in your skull dulls to a gentle knock.

“You put something in my tea-?”, you murmur, your tongue feeling sticky and heavy in your mouth.

You put the tea down and your head lolls to the side before a gentle hand caresses your cheek and your temple rests against the soft fabric of his shirt. The smell of moss and old books from your dream fills your nose, a clear testament to his visit in it just mere moments ago.

“I do have access to more elusive ingredients for potion mixing, aiodos.”

The endearment runs down your spine soothingly as you frown, even though the energy to do so is leaving you steadily.

“Though I admit your mix of opium and valerian root to be quite potent.”

You blink again and feel your old heart slow as if you were a bear about to enter hibernation, your lips tingling pleasantly as if you had sipped some spiced wine instead of tea.

You want to say what you think of his little betrayal, want to curse and spite him-

“Come now, let’s get you to bed.”

You find yourself in his arms, despite your pitiful whine, despite trying to push him away. Your head falls against his chest and suddenly you feel frail like glass.

He carries you through the short hallway with care, his lips at your temple as the fight in you returns for a second, the need to prove you can damn well take care of yourself but a shush and his lips pressed to your forehead makes the seed die before it can sprout.

You sigh and go limp in his arms, then, the numbness traveling from the toes of your feet and your fingertips, up your body with every breath you take.

“Rest now. There’s nothing you need to fear. I am watching over you.”

When you next wake, the moon is barely peeking through the curtains, bathing everything in a cool, glittering light.

The heaviness you feel in your bones makes you feel like you have slept for eons.

It takes you a moment to remember, to become aware of the warm nook of a shoulder you are pressed into, the arm wound around you, the soft breaths fanning over your head.

You glance up at him and find him resting. A rare sight, even in your living spaces, thoroughly secured by runes and protection circles.

You can’t help but smile as you turn and let the flat of your hand carefully roam over his chest. There is no shame in staving off the inevitable a little longer, not after all this time.

So you watch the moon slowly illuminate the altar off to the side of the room and wait, relishing in the calm. It is then that you notice the absence of your pain and exhaustion.

“I trust you are feeling better?” The low grumble underneath your ear almost makes you jump had there not been the steady climb of a second hand towards your thigh.

You sigh in response and rub your leg against his underneath the plush blankets. A low hum sounds in return and you know there’s a pleased smile on his face without turning. The hand on your thigh moves in calming back and forth motions like a pendulum.

You lose yourself in the gentle touch before your hand travels higher, up to his collarbones and you feel him tense for a moment as you trace the lines up to his neck, the links of his necklace. As your touch travels to his jaw, he relaxes again.

It’s quite telling, really, that he is still laying here, instead of leaving you, knocked out cold.

“I feel... exhausted. Thoroughly rested.” You take another deep breath and prop your head up as your fingertips dance over his chin and back down to his throat. There’s the slightest hint of stubble there, underneath your touch and you wonder if it’s to feed into your own desires or if it’s an unwanted symptom of him not resting before taking care of his kingdom.

“You worried me.”

You hum and keep appreciating his form, wetting your lips as your fingers trace the lines of his chest. Inside, the admission had made you freeze and almost catch your breath.

Your eyes flick to his but you find him looking anywhere else, your sleep mussed hair, your shoulder peeking out from underneath the blankets - anywhere so as to not meet your eyes. It is more telling than him looking back but you simply take it in stride.

“I do apologize if I distracted you from your duties, milord”, you murmur, a teasing smile on your face as he finally returns your gaze. He tugs you over himself by your thigh, fully covering himself in you. His fingertips tickle the back of your thigh and you bite your lip.

However, before either of you can start to banter, a distant flutter, followed by a quiet squawk distracts you.

You turn your head and catch a shadow moving outside, then another flutter and the distant sound of bird’s claws on the balcony just outside your living room and kitchen.

You level a glare at Dream from the corner of your eye before you shuffle out of his grip and out of bed.

A call of your name and another sigh follow your footsteps through to the other room. Still barefoot and only in a shirt and underwear. You fumble with your fingertips at the seam of it, only then realizing the black color, the soft fabric- it lifts your sour mood just slightly. The smell of petrichor and sandalwood envelops you, following you, just like Dream’s eyes do.

There.

You spot just the slightest hint of a beak through one of your windows before the small, black shadow flutters to the next.

You hasten your steps in turn and manage to pull the window open before they can hop any further.

They jump, visibly shocked as you face them with a grim smile.

“Hello there. May I help you with something?”

After a few inquisitive turns of their head, they clear their throat.

“I-I-” You take your time to muster the bird, thinking them to be the familiar of another witch but then there’s that smell, that energy surrounding the little spy.

“You’re quite handsome.” The nervous flutter of feathers makes you perk up and you look him up and down a bit more intently as you lean onto the window sill. “You’re Dream’s new raven, aren’t you?”

“Oh- uhm... yeah, I keep an eye out for him, he... he tends to... get into trouble.”

You smile sweetly at him and nod.

“He does. But he is safe here, you know. And I do appreciate my privacy.”

“I-I understand but he’s been-”

“Matthew.”

The raven nearly jumps off of the sill at the low growl from behind you.

Pretty name for a pretty bird.

You welcome the warmth pressing against you from behind as an arm winds around your waist. “I told you not to spy on me.”

“I know, Sir, but after yesterday-”

Out of the corner of your eye you see Morpheus reaching towards the window.

“Give Lucienne my regards, Matthew. And please do visit again, I feel like we have much to talk about”, you quickly manage, sensing the impending end of your conversation, and as soon as your last word leaves your lips, Dream slams the window shut right in front of Matthew’s beak.

“I’m sorry about him.”

You arch an eyebrow at that, the word sorry had seen few uses in Morpheus’ vocabulary over the centuries. His nose presses against your cheek, just shy of a kiss.

“Let’s head back to bed.”

You spot the point of a raven’s beak as you just outside the window as he presses you impossibly closer, his lips trailing over your cheek to your neck.

Another arm wraps around you and you watch his hand trail over your collarbone before a thumb briefly rubs against your nipple: cheeky, and yet not to be unexpected from your lover.

“Morpheus-”, you whisper, rendered breathless at the overflow of tender motions. You give into the distraction and avert your eyes from the window.

“Mhm?”

“I’m barely back on my feet.”

“So let’s return to your bed, lover”, he murmurs, already pulling you back, away from the window and out of your kitchen.

You chuckle and turn in his arms, meeting his eyes before you lean against his forehead with your own.

“You should not be so harsh on him, you know? Jessamy’s footsteps are big ones to fill.”

“He is too curious for his own good. He needs to learn.”

“Is that what this is, then? A lesson for your raven?”

“It does present itself as a welcome side effect. Though my visit was motivated by very selfish cravings.” The low murmur makes heat lick up your spine. A knuckle tilts your chin up to his and your lips are captured in a kiss, his nose nudging against yours as his lips delicately press against your own.

The kiss leaves you in something akin to a trance and you follow him through the apartment to your bed, his hands steadily wandering over your body as do yours.

You are tempted to push him against a wall instead but as if he were able to read your mind, then, he kisses you again and holds you tight against him, his hands sneaking underneath your shirt. It sends a thrill up his spine to hear you moan in response, to feel you fit into his hands once more.

He grunts as he walks backwards into your bed but you just chuckle and redirect him.

He sits back and you crawl into his lap, before pressing another kiss to the frown that had presented itself on his lips.

“You know this would be easier in my realm.”

“Mh- but I dislike the journey there too much and you know full well.”

He sits back against the headboard and you settle there together, your hands trailing over his chest as he grabs you by the nape of your neck to pull you into another kiss.

You hum and grab the hem of his shirt tightly as he opens your mouth with his own, your breaths mingling as you inhale each other’s presence.

His hands fit themselves into your waist, relishing in the bare skin underneath as he seems to swallow you whole. He could, potentially. Kidnap you and keep you, like Hades did with Persephone. But he knows better than to upset your matron goddesses.

“You know I struggle with the waking world just as much.”

“If you insist”, you whisper back, a faint smile on your lips before you peck his lips again. As you lean back to take your shirt off, however, he leans in to press more kisses to your jaw and down to your neck.

You sigh in content, melting in his grasp as you let your head fall back. However, when you shoot a quick glance towards your alarm clock, you find the space empty.

As teeth scrape over the thin skin covering your collarbone, you do another double take. But it’s gone.

“Dream-”, you mutter, still distracted, especially as he gentles the rasp of his teeth with his tongue. “Morpheus, where is my alarm clock?”

“Irrelevant.”

You frown and this time it’s you who grabs him by the chin to make him look at you. You lean back to look at him, even though you miss the proximity immediately.

“How long did you make me sleep for?” He purses his lips, the annoyance clear as day on his features. Oh, you could picture it perfectly well now, that glare towards the alarm while you were sound asleep on his chest. One time must have been more than enough, then, for him to make the poor thing disappear.

He sighs.

“Two days.” He trails off, his eyes caught on your lips for a moment before they flick back upwards. “I think.”

“You think?” You let go of his chin and shake your head at him. “Two days. I have a job, Morpheus.”

“That job is pointless. You’re a witch”, he grumbles, pressing another furious kiss to your neck. “Besides, you had fallen ill. No use in working when you can hardly stand.” He tugs you back to fully sit in his lap again, winding his arms around you as if you were a dream about to catch flight in the world. Your boiling anger simmers at the tender motion, if only for a moment.

“You’re not usually this disagreeable with me.”

The murmur is almost lost on you but the memory it procures definitely isn’t. Images of past meetings make your still weak head spin, make you bite your lip at the memory of hastily rucked up skirts and wanton moans that had left neighbors in many a century both flustered and angry.

You lean in to kiss him again, then, because that is usually all it takes, especially when he frustrates you: The memory of time you had spent together when you could.

“Next time you are in distress, call for me.” Teeth nip at your bottom lip, a silent reprimand and you let your fingertips trail over his neck, towards the nape where you can sneak into his hair.

“I have friends and other, less busy lovers for that, Dream. You don’t need to take care of me”, you mutter, tongue too quick and nudging against ancient disputes between the two of you.

The hands on your hips tighten at the mention of the others. While he tolerated your need for more than his sparse visits, he didn’t necessarily like it.

“I’m sorry, I-”

Instead of a wrathful reply, you receive a fierce kiss, one that makes your teeth click. You can taste a hint of blood from where teeth must have pierced your lip but you can’t find it in yourself to care.

His hands gently cup your face and he grunts as you cant your hips against his. He turns the two of you so you’re flat on your back. Your mouths never part, locked in a hot and messy tangle. A tongue nudges against yours and you lose your train of thought. The soft touches quickly escalate into something more desperate after that.

One of his hands grabs your ass to hold you steady as you squirm underneath him, the soft touches underneath your shirt turning into rough groping, his thumb steadily rubbing against your nipples.

You hold on to his shoulder, losing yourself in the kisses exchanged as you gasp for air. He lets you grind your pussy against his hard length, the damp fabric catching on your clit with every one of your combined movements.

It’s a stubborn game, the silence between the two of you. Every time one of you moves to kiss the other’s neck, their jaw, the other muffles their own sounds. When you bite down on his earlobe, a small gasp escapes him and you grin triumphantly as the thrust of his hips jolts you up the mattress with your own moan.

You let your lips trail over the shell of his ear. As you grind your pussy down against him, you moan into his ear and the groan he responds with makes you shudder. Out of the corner of your eye you see him furrowing his brows and both of his hands tug you down harder, his own hips searching for the friction.

Finally, he rips your underwear off of you - you scramble to get your shirt off but he is faster than you, pinning you down to line himself up with your pussy.

You’re abruptly shoved up the mattress and gasp as he presses into you with a rough shove.

“Morpheus”, you whisper and grab his chin to lead him into another kiss.

“What is it? Tell me.”

Your fingertips dig into the bone of his jaw. You would be drawing blood with any of your human lovers, you know that, but he is leaving imprints of his teeth in your skin and you can’t help yourself. You bare your teeth as he leans down to suck at your pulse.

“What do you want?”, he murmurs over the wet skin and you feel yourself growing wetter as you grind against him.

“You know exactly what I want, you just want me to say it. I shouldn’t give you the satisfaction”, you sigh and roll your hips against his a little harder, finding that perfect spot to rub your clit against, a perfect bit of friction that makes your cheeks heat up. “Undress me, Morpheus. I want to feel you. Please.”

He hums and slides his hands over your back, up, underneath the shirt. He pulls it off very carefully and your hands move on to his shirt before your own is even fully discarded. You’re less careful than he is and he seems to approve, visibly impatient as he shuffles you until your chest presses up against his before his lips find yours again.

He starts moving his hips again and you keen into his mouth at the friction. You pull at his shoulders, wanting more but unable to voice it.

You let your hand trail over his back, down until you can scratch your nails over his thigh. It makes him moan, his hips jutting forward until you can grasp it in one of your hands.

“Cunning”, he murmurs but he doesn’t resist your pull, doesn’t so much as blink an eye. Instead he pushes two of his slender fingers against your clit, the slick sound drowned out by your moan.

"Morpheus, more-"

"Be patient", he murmurs and you want to bite at him, your lips already searching for the skin of his neck.

You faintly hear your phone ring but Morpheus pushes his slick fingers between your lips.

You meet his eyes, fully entranced, your legs haphazardly nudged to the crooks of his elbows as he pushes closer, closer until you can feel him bottoming out.

You bite down on his fingers. It changes his sullen expression, his brows furrowing, his lips twitching as he presses his hard cock deeper until you keen and let go.

Spit slick fingers trail down over your bottom lip before he leans in to kiss you again. The spit smears against your arm before he intertwines his fingers with yours. Your moans are muffled by the kiss, a harsh and passionate thing, aided by tongue and teeth as he thrusts into you.

The headboard creaks with great offense as you grab a hold of the wood and dig your nails into it.

He drags his palm over your arm before it settles next to yours on the bedframe, his nose dipping down to press against your cheek. His thrusts are almost punishing. Every single one is making the breath in your throat catch.

You lean your cheek against your knee that is pushed up next to your head. He follows the movement, his lips smearing against the tendons in your neck.

“Is this what you wanted?”

“Yes, yes”, you gasp, mindless in the pursuit of your own pleasure.

He doesn’t let up until your orgasm burns through you and he has to muffle your sounds with another kiss before he follows with his own orgasm.

You pant heavily as he lifts his mouth from yours. You detangle carefully, your whole body aching. Meanwhile Morpheus is quick to get dressed again before he is off to your bathroom.

You awake to a warm feeling and crack one eyelid open to watch as Morpheus carefully cleans you with a wet, warm towel.

When he is finally done, he joins you in bed again, his hands dragging over your still naked body, his lips pressing a lingering kiss to your temple.

“How do you feel?”

You snort and scooch closer until you can put a leg over his hip.

“Godlike”, you finally sigh. It earns you an amused chuckle and another murmur that you don’t catch over your increasing drowsiness.

#morpheus x reader #the sandman x reader #the sandman netflix #dream of the endless #dream x reader #matthew the raven

155 notes · View notes

knowbodytoldmethat · 2 years

Text

Child of The Dreaming pt. 2

Part 1: Child of The Dreaming

Request from @fangirlmary: "Reader is a child who died in their sleep so Morpheus decides to adopt them as his child rather than have them just be a dream or nightmare. (Can be a one-shot or headcanon list)."

Trigger warning: Mentioned death

Platonic Paring: Morpheus x child!reader (Father-child relationship)

I changed basically everything about this after seeing the bonus episode

Sorry to everyone who wanted to be on a tag list for this update. I haven't figured out how to do that yet.

Morpheus stood in front of the youngest of the Nine Muses as she stared out the window,

"You came," The disbelief and relief were evident in her voice when she turned to face him as he stepped out of the shadows,

"You called,"

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

"There you are!" Lucienne let out a sigh of relief when she found the child hiding among the stacks of books in the library, "I've been looking for you everywhere! You almost gave me a heart attack, Little One!" The child kept quiet and just pressed themselves further into the shelf they'd wedged themselves into.

Lucienne sighed. She knew the child was missing their father. Lord Morpheus may deny that he was and continually insist he just watched over them, but Lucienne knew better. He saw them as his own child like they saw him as their father.

The librarian sat outside the small barrier that had been made to separate them from the rest of The Dreaming and looked at the child,

"I know you miss him. I can promise you, he misses you just as much," They curled up tighter and pressed their head to their knees before asking a muffled question,

"Then why'd he go?" Lucienne sighed again.

The child was young, would forever be young, and hadn't fully grasped the duties that were placed upon their father's shoulders. And they had no inkling about his past. They'd felt their father's love since the first day they'd arrived in The Dreaming and Lord Morpheus had done everything he could to shield them from the darkness that rested in every corner of the universe. His past was no different,

"He was called by, an old friend of his, who is in desperate need of his help," She said, "He is the only one who can help," The child sniffed before nodding then slowly crawled out of their fortress and grabbed Lucienne's offered hand,

"Alright then," The librarian said while smoothing out (y/n)'s clothes, "We've got to get going. Cain and Abel are expecting us,"

"What about Goldie?" She smiled down at the child,

"Yes, Goldie is expecting us too,"

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

"You've changed, Oneiros," Calliope said as they walked away from the house she'd been held captive in for the last few years, "The one I was married to would've left Madoc to suffer through his punishment despite my wishes," The Muse glanced over at Dream.

Her former husband was silent for a long time before answering her unasked question,

"Many things were different when I returned from my capture. One of them has taken a large part of my time alongside my other duties, and it was something I never thought I'd experience again," Oneiros paused slightly which prompted Calliope to ask,

"And what would that be?"

Oneiros stopped walking, forcing the muse to pause her gait and turn to him. He was visibly hesitant to answer but eventually said,

"A child died while in my realm. Murdered by their own father. I've been watching over them since," Calliope was silent as she processed the information, which Dream saw as her being angry, thinking that he was replacing their son with the Little One, "I will not apologize for taking care of them-" "I would not expect you too, Oneiros," Calliope said,

"If anything, I would expect nothing less from you. You were a wonderful father to Orpheus, and you are no doubt a wonderful father to this child," She said, "Though you try to hide it for fear of being seen as weak, you have much love to give. You gave it to me all those years ago, and you gave it to our son. A child who wandered into your real would have been no different," Morpheus was still silent when they began walking again.

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

In the House of Secrets, Cain, Abel, and Lucienne were sitting around the table while Goldie, who had grown to be about the same size as the child, was curled around the Little One as the two dozed in front of the fireplace. There was a gentle knock on the door that cut off the quiet conversation and Abel jumped up to answer it,

"Lord Morpheus!" He exclaimed, getting shushed by his brother and Lucienne while stepping back to allow the King of Dreams into his house, "Sorry! Sorry!"

"They've fallen asleep, my lord," Lucienne said while pointing toward the fireplace. Dream felt a smile creep across his face at the site and decided that it wouldn't hurt to let his Little Star sleep a while longer and sat at the table while the three caught him up with all that he missed.

In the middle of the conversation, Morpheus felt a gentle tugging on his cloak and looked down. His Little Star was awake, though still on the brink of sleep, and was trying to climb up into his lap. Dream carefully picked them up and let them curl into his chest.

Their fist gripped the edge of his coat as they fell back asleep and Morpheus kissed the top of their head while cradling them to his chest.

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

Calliope's first visit to The Dreaming was in a few weeks, and while Morpheus was glad that the two of them were going to attempt to heal and grieve what they lost, he was also nervous. Lucienne had told him it would be best if he told the Little One why he and his former wife were meeting.

Which was why he was currently sitting in the meadow with his Little Star, watching them twist flowers into a small wreath. They were determined to make one that would fit Matthew,

"Did you eat a lemon?" Morpheus glanced sharply at the child who was staring up at him, "Your face is squished and it looks like you ate a lemon," They drew their face into a pinched expression and pursed their lips, no doubt mimicking the expression on Morpheus' face,

"No. I did not eat any lemons,"

"Then why is your face like that?" The King of Dreams sighed,

"I'm thinking,"

"'bout what?" They asked while leaning toward him,

"Do you remember when I had to leave The Dreaming?" A frown landed on their face,

"Are you leaving again?"

"No. But the person I had left to help is coming here," They looked up at him, "Her name is Calliope, she and I were close a long time ago. There are some things the two of us need to talk about,"

"Like what?"

Morpheus thickly swallowed, "We had a son. And we lost him,"

The Little One paused their diligent work on the wreath and quietly asked,

"Like how I lost my mom?" Morpheus nodded,

"Yes, Little Star. Like your mother," He sighed while pulling them into his lap, "Calliope and I felt anger toward our loss, and we turned that anger on each other. But when I left The Dreaming, we spoke. Our anger has been put aside, and we've agreed to have a chance to grieve properly for the son we lost," He felt the child nod while they hugged his arm,

"You're not mad anymore?"

"There is still anger that will always be there," The child tensed so he quickly continued, "But we are determined to not let that cloud our judgment anymore. That is why Calliope will be in The Dreaming, so that we may grieve Orpheus without that anger," Morpheus waited with baited breath.

His Little Star wriggled so that they were looking up at Morpheus before wrapping their arms around his torso and burying their face into his chest. He hugged them back and held onto them tightly before they pulled away and clumsily patted Morpheus' cheek before settling back against him.

The father and child sat quietly in the meadow, watching the butterflies wander by in the breeze.

#the sandman #the sandman x reader #morpheus x reader #dream of the endless x reader #dream of the endless #lucienne #matthew the raven #sandman netflix #calliope sandman

404 notes · View notes

rosaren2498 · 1 year

Text

Sweet Dream or Beautiful Nightmare

WARNINGS/TAGS: Fem!Reader (no use of y/n), 18+ MINORS DNI!!!!!! SMUT, Vaginal Fingering, Multiple Orgasms, Vaginal Sex, Possessive!Dream, Possessive!Reader, Violent Reader (Not Towards Dream), Hair-Pulling Kink (?), Creampie, Rescue Fic, Violence (Unsure If It's Graphic, Please Be Safe), They Are Just So Unhinged Guys, Slight Angst (Dream Being Left Alone With His Thoughts Is Rarely Good), Blood, Rough Sex, Nightmare!Reader, Dream Totally Has A Compentancy Kink, As Well As A Damsel In Distress Kink, Claws, Fangs

Someone please inform me if I missed anything in the tags, I'm trying to hard but I've never been good at tagging

Part 7 of the 'It Isn't Abduction If You're Willing' series

I've had this finished (as well as at least two others) for a while (at least a month.) I've had no motivation to transfer any of them, so I apologize for the delay. This is the longest one I have written (I believe) as it's 35 pages on my notes. Hope you enjoy it!

Title is from 'Sweet Dreams' by Beyonce which is basically the song I associate with Dream the most right now. If you haven't heard it, listen to it

---

The day had started just like any other.

Like nearly every morning, you woke in Dream's arms, your head resting on his chest, your body aching pleasantly from the previous night's activities. Dream pressed a loving kiss to your forehead, but you lifted your head with a soft whine, pouting. He chuckled and gave you a proper kiss, slow but deep, tongues tangling lazily; your favorite way to wake up, if you were being honest with yourself. When he finally pulled back, he rested his forehead against yours and you gave him the brightest smile you were capable of so soon after waking; the awe in his eyes made you feel cherished.

You both lounged in bed for as long as possible, enjoying the closeness, the tactile sensation of someone's body pressed against yours, Dream's body. You shared more than a few lazy, hot, messy kisses, and a little heavy petting, but not much more; you were both mostly just content to bask in each other's presence. When you finally extracted yourself from his arms, albeit very reluctantly, you made your way to the bathroom he had created just for you. Most people wouldn't like a dark-colored bathroom but seeing the black, purple, and blue colors never failed to make you think of Dream; you loved it for that alone.

You kept the lights dim when you flipped them - bright light often hurt your eyes and gave you headaches, though they also reminded you of your time imprisoned - as you approached the shower. Said shower was big enough to hold at least three people comfortably, though the massive bath half-sunk into the floor across from it could hold five people. Maybe you would take a bath later; for now, you turned the shower on, letting the water get hot before stepping under the spray. You shuddered at the heat of it as the water rolled down your body, relaxing your sore and aching muscles; Dream always left you sore in the best ways.

As you began washing your body, you traced the bruises and hickeys that you could see, smiling at the sight of them. Most people seemed to have an issue with being marked; you had never understood why. For you, the bruises and hickeys were reminders that you were wanted; that you were loved. The fact that Dream enjoyed leaving them thrilled you.

You didn't jump when arms wrapped around your waist from behind, merely sighing contentedly and leaning back in Dream's embrace. You stood there together for a quiet moment - as neither of you had any need to speak - before he grabbed his shampoo. He began to massage it into your hair, nails lightly scratching your scalp as he did, causing a happy hum to leave you. Once the shampoo was rinsed away, he lathered your hair in conditioner and left it to sit for a bit. You took the opportunity to turn around, shifting the both of you around until he was under the spray. When his hair was sufficiently wet, you grabbed your own shampoo; you both did so love smelling like each other. He ducked his head just a bit and you smiled, returning the gentle care he had easily offered. When his conditioner was in, he rinsed yours out and then you began to gently wash his body, placing soft, open-mouthed kisses everywhere you could reach.

When you were both completely clean, you kissed him. Dream tugged you closer by your waist with a pleased noise, wrapping his arms around you again. The kiss quickly grew heated and you whimpered into his mouth when one of his hands slipped between your legs. He slid his finger along your slit and you pulled away from his mouth just enough to pant, fighting the urge to rock your hips. He slipped a finger into you and you moaned softly, your eyes fluttering. You bit your lip as you rocked against his finger in little motions, unable to help it; when he added a second one, your knees nearly buckled at the lick of pleasure up your spine, but his arm around your waist kept you upright. He shifted, crowding you against the water-warmed tile and you moaned his name as he began steadily fucking you with his fingers.

"Always so wet for me, little dreamling."

Your breath hitched and you whimpered.

"Only for you."

His possessive growl had you shuddering and clenching around his fingers. He added a third, and you couldn't contain your breathless cry of pleasure when he curled them inside you. His fingers were long, like an artist's, which allowed him to easily rub against that spot inside you that had you seeing stars; or maybe that was just his eyes.

"Yes." The word came out almost as a growl. "You are mine, and only mine, forever."

Your body began trembling as your orgasm rushed towards you embarrassingly quick, high-pitched whimpers and moans filling the room.

"Yes, yes, yes! Yes, I'm yours. Always yours, only yours." You gasped for breath, whining as he curled his fingers again; your mouth was quickly getting away from you. "My Dream, my North Star. I belong to you in a way I have never belonged to anyone. I swear that I will never belong to anyone else ever again; just you."

Your voice was beginning to tremble with the effort it took to speak around your pleasure. You allowed your head to fall back against the tile, looking up at him, at your North Star. His eyes were wild with a possessiveness that would scare - and had scared - anyone else, but not you. You would never be afraid of how much he felt, you reveled in it, for you felt the same. "I am yours, as you are mine. No other shall get to see you like this. No other will get to feel your fingers inside them like this. No other will have your heart as I do." You placed your hand over where his heart was, the heart he didn't need, but manifested just your you.

Dream kissed you until you were dizzy with it, your head spinning with pleasure. When he pulled back, his free hand left your waist and slid up your body, resting at the base of your throat, fingers against your rapid pulse; he didn't squeeze, but you still shuddered, another high-pitched noise slipping from your mouth. He brought his lips to your ear, his voice a deep rasp. "No one will ever see your beauty as you cum, trembling, and shaking, and crying. None but me." He gave a vicious twist of his fingers, rubbing cruelly against that special spot, and the coil in your belly exploded. You rose his fingers through your orgasm until you were a panting, shaking, and trembling mess just like he wanted. When he finally removed his fingers, he immediately sucked them into his mouth, cleaning them off; you whimpered at the sight and he flashed you a smirk.

"Menace." Your voice was still shaky, but you couldn't bring yourself to mind. Not when he kissed you again, and certainly not when he dragged one of your legs up and around his waist, rocking his hips just enough to rub his cock against you.

"I would have you again, fill you like I know you enjoy, if you would but allow it."

You shuddered and nodded rapidly, using the leg now around his waist to pull him even closer; you couldn't have given less of a fuck about the fact that you had just gotten clean. "Yes, yes, always. I could never deny you anything, my love, least of all your pleasure."

His deep groan had yet another shudder racing down your spine, then he was pushing into you in one smooth stroke, burying his cock to the hilt. Your back arched off the tiles as you moaned loudly, pressing your chest against his. His hand left the base of your throat, sliding back down your body to grip your waist again to keep you upright; he rolled his hips in slow thrusts, punching moans and whimpers out of you each time he sank in to the hilt.

You panted into each other's mouths, sharing breath as your eyes locked; you couldn't look away from the sheer intensity in his eyes; you didn't want to look away. You slid one of your hands into his wet, silky hair and tugged, crying out when he groaned deep in his chest and gave a particularly harsh thrust; oh, you wouldn't last much longer. You threaded your other hand into his hair and then tugged with both hands. You enjoyed the growl that slipped out of his mouth almost as much as the way his thrusts turned rough, the wet sound of skin slapping against skin echoing against the tile' the slick slide of your bodies was downright obscene. Your sounds were quickly turning breathy.

"Dream, my Dream, please. Cum inside me, fill me up. Need it, Dream. Need to feel your spend coat me from the inside, like a claim, need to feel it dripping out of me because there's so much of it that I couldn't possibly hold it all inside. Please, I'm so close."

A dark, guttural noise slipped from his mouth, causing a shiver to race down your spine and you to clench around him. You felt his cock twitch heavily inside you before feeling the sudden rush of hot liquid and a desperate cry left you as your orgasm swept you away. Dream didn't stop, fucking both of you through your orgasms until all that was left were little aftershocks that had you clenching erratically around his cock. You could feel his cool breath against the heated skin of your neck as he panted, causing you to shiver as you tried to get your own gasping breaths under control. When he finally, slowly, pulled his cock out, you felt a gush of liquid down your thighs that had a high-pitched whimper tumbling from your mouth. He smirked before kissing you, delving his tongue into your mouth to taste you; you kissed back eagerly.

"I'm going to feel that all day."

Something that could only be called a purr rumbled through his chest, and his smirk turned outright wicked. "Good. I want you to spend the whole day thinking of me. And when we're no longer busy, regardless of where you are, I am going to find you and fill you again and again. When you're full to the brim, I will put a plug in you so that not a single drop escapes. You will sleep with my seed buried as deep into you as possible and come the next morning, I will add more."

You whined, squirming at the thought, pupils dilating. "Promise?"

He kissed you passionately, harshly, sucking on your tongue before pulling back. "I swear."

---

After cleaning up, again, you went your separate ways for now. Dream had Kingly duties, dreams and nightmares to create, and you had promised to help Lucienne in the library; a ton of new books had appeared and they needed sorting. It was several hours before you saw him again, though it had felt like an eternity - as being away from him always did - and you accepted his greeting kiss with relief. Unfortunately, for both of you, he was not quite done with being a king for the day - there were a few particular books he needed to check - but you simply sent him to his throne room with the promise of getting the books for him; you absolutely loved doing anything you could for him. Once gathered, you made your way to the throne room, to him, humming a song from the Waking World under your breath.

You pushed open the doors and made your way to the base of the stairs. Dream was perched on the fifth step, robe spilled out around him; you couldn't help but admire the veritable night sky you could see inside. You would never get over the fact that he sat on the stairs that led to his throne, rather than the throne itself when he didn't have to be political; it was both adorable and sweet. You handed him the books, getting a chaste kiss as a thank you. You turned and began making your way back to the doors of the library, freezing mid-step at the abrupt feeling of wrongness that flooded your awareness like ice. You heard a sharp intake of breath and a small thud as pain and panic, feelings that did not belong to you, thrashed in your head. You whipped around to see the books on the floor and Dream hunched over, the edges of his form blurring.

"Not... again."

You were confused for only a second, crying out for him as you quickly realized what was happening. No, no, not again! Don't do this to him again!! He was gone before you could close the distance, and as you felt that precious bond between you go completely silent, you s c r e a m e d.

---

Dream awoke feeling dizzy. He'd fought the pull of the summoning spell with all his power, but it had dug into his very core, hooked him like a fish and he was powerless to stop it. He couldn't feel his power, and his chest - and the back of his head - felt empty in a way he'd never experienced; as if something he'd never noticed was there was suddenly gone. It wasn't the emptiness of being disconnected from the Dreaming, nor the collective unconscious; he was intimately familiar with the feeling of that after a century, and that feeling had already settled in his gut. No, this was a hollow feeling, an emptiness that was like he'd been cut off from something else. Something potentially more important, something vital that he truly hadn't even known was there; it left him feeling bereft.

The first thing he saw when he opened his eyes was the cursed golden binding circle; he suddenly wished he had found the grimoire before and had burned it. The second thing he saw were the three people standing just outside it, staring at him; the one standing slightly in front of the others was eying him gleefully, while the other two were studying him warily. A quick glance around revealed a mostly bare room; it was clear that he was in yet another basement.

Once they realized he was awake, he learned their names - Mark, Tristan, and Ryan - and that they had found the grimoire, deciding to summon Death like Burgess had tried to before them. It seemed Burgess had never explained that the summoning spell had never caught Death; it figured he wouldn't admit to his own mistakes. However, they seemed to know even less than Burgess had about what they were doing, or even who he was. Unfortunately for him, as long as the binding circle remained intact, there was little he could do. He refused to answer their questions or demands, giving them the same silence he had given Burgess. Eventually, they grew bored and irritated and left the room; they left no guards behind to watch him and he was, thankfully still fully clothed; he would have already used his sand to escape, but he knew it wouldn't work with the binding circle intact; he couldn't use his sand without access to his power. He shifted in the circle to get more comfortable, settling in to wait. He would not need to wait long; surely you would come for him.

---

Time passed excruciatingly slowly. His new captors came down frequently, demanding the same gifts that Burgess had demanded of him, but he merely glared silently at them whenever any of them showed; while Mark and Tristan were clearly shaken by his rage, Ryan was not to be deterred and refused to let the other two leave. He, once more, could do nothing but think. The more time that passed, the less certain he was that you would come; why would you? He had taken you from your home realm, against your will, and had claimed you as his without a thought as to whether it was what you wanted; he knew it was wrong and yet he had still done it. Surely you were happy that he was gone.

His captors were getting more angry with his silence now; or rather, Ryan was as Mark and Tristan seemed to only get more and more freaked out; he couldn't deny he felt a bit of pride at that. Ryan shouted at him, cried that he had captured him by the laws of magic and that Dream owed them boons now; that Ryan owned him. It made him furious, made him feel sick, but still, there was nothing he could do.

He was unsure how much time had passed when he suddenly heard the flutter of wings; his captors were not in the room at the moment and he'd lost track of how long it'd been since he'd last seen them. His head snapped up and his heart dropped into his stomach when he saw Matthew creeping closer to the edge of the circle.

"Don't worry, Boss, help's on the way. We'll get you out."

Dream barely registered the words, too panicked by Matthew's appearance; he could only see Jessamy's determination to free him, see her blood splattered on the glass sphere that had kept him imprisoned.

"You have to leave." It isn't safe, he didn't say. They will kill you, he thought.

Matthew cawed in protest. "I'm not leaving you alone down here! They're right outside the house, and I'll keep out of sight, but I'm not leaving you."

He watched as Matthew flew around the edge of the circle until he was at the back of it, hidden from the view of the doorway by Dream's body; who were the they that Matthew spoke of?

Less than a minute later, the very foundations of the house shook. His captors spilled into the room, two - Mark and Tristan - gripping guns in shaking hands while the third, the leader Ryan, held a knife tightly in his hand. Matthew kept still, and silent, behind Dream as Ryan stalked over to the circle, scowling; Dream could have laughed at the attempt to intimidate him.

Before Ryan could speak, the house shook again and the door to the room was practically blown off its hinges; Ryan spun around to face the door as the other two raised their guns; they looked like they were going to piss themselves any second except for Ryan. Shadows were spilling into the room from the open doorway, shadows much like Dream's own, but these swirled with deep blues and purples that he'd never seen in his own before; a veritable galaxy of color amongst the black. Then, a voice rang out, echoing with power.

"Release him."

It was a voice he recognized, and he would've sobbed in relief at hearing it if he weren't more than a little confused.

Ryan snarled. "We have captured it by the laws of magic; it's ours!"

A growl reverberated so loudly, so strongly, in the room that Dream felt it in his chest. He caught the sound of two other growls, quieter but no less furious; one more animalistic while the other more human.

"He does not belong to you. Release him or you will meet an end so cruel, the devil will weep."

He shuddered at the barely contained fury and possessiveness in his Queen's voice. When none of his captors made a move to free him, the shadows in the room - still with those strange and beautiful colors - began to form a familiar shape. Directly out of the shadows stepped his Queen, but you looked... different.

Shadows dripped from your form, and your hair moved and shifted in the air, defying gravity like you were underwater; there were swirling blue and purple inch-long claws tipping your fingers. The breath in his throat, the breath he didn't need, hitched when he saw how your eyes glowed with the white-hot fury of a thousand stars. Was this what he looked like when he was angry? He'd never seen anything more stunning.

He choked on a panicked shout when two gunshots rang out, but it took him a moment to realize the cries that followed were not from you. The two captors that had been wielding guns were now on the floor clutching at their respective calves, which were spilling crimson blood onto the floor; the shots had come from the doorway, still cloaked in your shadows. He watched, startled, as Ryan stalked forward, surely stupid rather than brave. Dream heard the sound of a blade slicing through air and then Ryan grunted in pain; a very familiar knife was sticking out of his right thigh.

Dream settled back to watch in awe as you advanced on the human now kneeling on the floor; Ryan pulled the knife out with another grunt and tossed it to the ground, giving you a pathetic snarl that cut off quickly when you wrapped a hand around his throat. Dream felt heat slowly creeping up his neck and spreading across his face as he watched, heavy-lidded, as you lifted Ryan clear off the ground, as you defended him. No one, save for Hob in 1789, had ever defended him before: it was just as heady a feeling now as it had been then.

You allowed a dark growl to fall from your lips as you held the stupid human by his throat, baring a mouthful of fangs rather than human teeth. "You dared to take what is mine. Dared to steal my King right in front of me." You dragged a claw down the human's cheek, and Dream couldn't repress his pleasurable shudder as blood welled up from the ragged cut. "Death is too kind for the likes of you. Your friends, oh they will die, but you... your mind will be trapped in our realm, hunted by our nightmares, by me, and you will be torn to shreds over and over again until your body, here, gives out. Then, and only then, will you finally know peace. We will make Hell feel like Heaven."

Your shadows rushed out, enveloping the man that began screaming as soon as they tuched him, before he abruptly went limp in your grasp; you dropped him without care, turning to the other two. They immediately burst into pleas for mercy but you merely ignored them, advancing on the closest one. You dug your claws in and tore at his flesh; his scream had Dream shuddering again as he watched you tear and rip both of the remaining humans o shreds; there was little left of them but broken bones, blood, and strips of flesh. When they were dead, you turned to him, giving him a quick once-over before picking up the discarded, familiar, knife and holding it out behind you.

"I believe this is yours."

Dream tilted his had at you before, through the still-shadowed doorway, Corinthian stepped into the room, immediately followed by Hob: your shadows had kept them hidden from view, kept them safe. Oh, he loved you so much.

Corinthian silently took the knife, cleaned the blood off, and put it back in his holster; both he and Hob looked almost as murderous as you did. Your voice rang out again.

"We cannot break the biding circle; you'll have to."

Hob didn't hesitate to step forward, dropping to his knees and ripping his jacket off to use it to scrub at the paint on the floor; the material gave way quickly enough and Dream gasped sharply as his power flooded through him once more. What nearly made him cry out was the bond - the bond he hadn't even realized you had - bursting open in his chest and the back of his head, your feelings filling him; a protective fury, the likes of which he had never felt before, whirled through him, quickly followed by desperation and a relief that nearly choked him. Then, he was in your arms, your hands - still ripped in those beautiful claws and dripping with blood - caressing his face oh so gently.

"Are you alright? Did they hurt you?" Your hands trailed over his body, gentle as a feather, checking for any wounds.

He could resist no longer and dragged you bodily into a fierce kiss. He shoved his tongue into your mouth, curling it around one of your fangs with a deep, vibrating groan. When he pulled back, he was panting. "You are... magnificent."

You practically purred at the praise even as you jerked your head towards Hob and Corinthian. "You should thank them. Corinthian kept me from tearing the entire world down while trying to find you, and Hob managed to track the grimoire down; it's how we found you. I was beside myself the second you vanished; I'm sorry it took so long."

Dream shushed you softly, pulling you into his embrace with a shuddering sigh. He looked over your shoulder at his dearest friend and his little nightmare. "Thank you both; I will not forget this."

Hob smiled and nodded once. "No need to thank me, my friend."

Corinthian, however, seemed startled. He suddenly shrugged, affecting a look of indifference. "Couldn't exactly have her ripping all the realms apart."

Dream smiled at his masterpiece. "Still... thank you."

Corinthian visibly hesitated before nodding once with a quick jerk of his head. "You're welcome, my Lord."

You nuzzled his chest, voice soft when you spoke. "Home?"

Dream tightened his arms around you. "Yes. Home."

---

Less than half an hour later, having gotten Hob home safe, and sent Corinthian and Matthew off to do their jobs, you and Dream were finally back in your chambers. A week. He'd been missing for a week, and though it technically wasn't a long time, it was far too long for you. It was taking every ounce of self-control you still had to not pounce on him; you'd missed him more than you'd ever be able to explain but you figured he'd likely need some time. You were just about to make a move towards the bathroom in order to wash the blood off you when Dream pounced on you, pushing you onto the bed and crawling over you like a predator; it sent a pleasurable shiver rolling down your spine.

"Do you have any idea how stunning you look right now? I hadn't even realized we were bound, let alone that you could wield my power with such ease."

You moaned as he devoured your mouth in a desperate kiss, shoving your tongue into his mouth to finally taste him. You clung to him, keeping his body pressed tightly against yours even as your clothes vanished into sand. He pressed you back into the bed, eyes like the black void of distant space from side-to-side, twin stars shining where the pupils would be. You automatically spread your legs wide for him and he settled between them like it was where he belonged.

"You're absolutely gorgeous. Covered in the blood of those who would have done me harm, wielding my power like you were born for it.... Breathtaking. My sweet dreamling, my beautiful nightmare."

You shuddered and whined, power no longer echoing in your voice, though you still had claws, your hair was still wilder than ever, and your eyes still shined like his. "Please, I can't wait; I need to feel you."

Thankfully, he didn't make you wait any longer, plundering your mouth as he buried his cock as deep inside you as possible. Your back arched at the sudden burn of the stretch, but you only moaned desperately. You clung tighter to him, smearing still-drying blood along his skin as he started an almost punishing rhythm; it was clear that any control he had was long gone. You traced a path along his skin with your too-long-to-be-human tongue, following the trail of blood you had left behind, licking him clean and causing him to growl. His hand threaded through your hair and he pulled your head back sharply, muffling your loud moan as he shoved his own not-quite-human tongue into your mouth, chasing the iron tang of the blood.

You rolled your hips in time with his, meeting him thrust for thrust, the slap of skin-on-skin contact loud in the room; fuck, you had missed him so much. You sucked on his tongue and smirked when he abruptly pulled back with an absolutely wild look in his eyes. He growled deep in his chest, his free hand gripping your hip tight enough to bruise; you hoped it would. The hand still in your hair yanked your head further back - far enough that your back arched with it = and latched onto your neck, biting and sucking marks almost viciously into your skin as he fucked into your harder. You dug your newly-acquired claws into his back, dragging them down and ripping an absolutely filthy growl from his mouth that caused you to shudder; you whined high in your throat at the sharp scrape of fangs that you knew he didn't have seconds before, clenching around his cock; you kind of hoped he'd bite you, hard enough to draw blood.

You could feel the pressure in the air as his power rose, could taste the slight humanness of him that usually lingered vanish completely when he kissed you again; you let the power resting inside you rise to meet his, intertwining in the air like silver ribbons. You rocked your hips into his, both of you chasing your pleasure, gasping and moaning into each other's mouths due to how rough and desperate you both were.

You keened at a particularly deep thrust, pulling away from his sinful mouth to speak. "I'm so close." Your voice was hoarse and breathless, but you continued nonetheless. "Please, can I cum? Please let me cum, my Dream, my North Star, please."

Dream gave a deep groan, snapping his hips harder into the cradle of your thighs, causing your back to arch again. "So good for me, asking permission. Yes, yes my love, cum for me."

You didn't need anything more than his permission, that coil in your belly, which had been tightening, snapping abruptly as soon as the words left his lips. You gasped his name as your orgasm crashed into you, sweeping you away in a tidalwave of pure bliss. You whimpered when Dream's hips stuttered once, twice, and then he buried his cock deep inside you, head thrown back with a silent cry as he came. You clung to each other in the aftermath, hands roaming each other's bodies as if reacquainting yourselves, gentling each other. You pressed your mouth to his in a loving kiss and he sighed blissfully into the kiss. Without pulling out, he carefully rolled you both onto your sides, holding you as close as possible. As most of your more inhuman features finally faded, until only the stars in your eyes remained, you traced random shapes over his heart before giving his chest a small kiss. You met his curious gaze and allowed that power to bleed into your voice once more.

"I will never allow anyone to hurt you, and I will never allow you to be taken from me; I would slaughter any who dare attempt either. I will never allow anyone to take me from you, nor will I allow anyone to get in between us. And if something happened, something like this, I would fight to get you back, or fight until I was returned to you. I would fight with teeth or fangs, nails or claws, with every last breath in my body, and I would not rest until we were safe in each other's arms again. I will always come for you, and I will always come back to you, because you are mine, and I am yours."

You felt more than heard his breath hitch as he tried to pull you even closer, despite no space actually existing between you. He took a shuddering breath, and then spoke.

"I swear to never doubt your love, and to always love you in return. I will never allow harm to come to you, and I will punish all who attempt to do so. I will never allow myself to be taken from you, nor allow you to be taken from me. And if we are separated, I will not know peace until we are reunited once more. I will protect and love you as fiercely as you would protect and love me. For you are mine, as I am yours."

Both of your oaths rang with power, and you felt them twine around you, settling into your skin with a shudder.

"I love you."

"As I love you."

You shared another loving and gentle kisss, then settled, allowing your bodies to relax for the first time in a week. You were more than content to simply hold each other once more, everything else could wait; right now, you needed to hold, and be held by, him.

#dream of the endless x reader #morpheus x reader #dream of the endless x you #morpheus x you #the sandman fanfic #the corinthian #hob gadling #matthew the raven #rescue fic

132 notes · View notes

thepaintedlady00 · 1 year

Note

So there’s something I can’t get out of my head. Jealous morpheus. That’s it, but I’m a cute way, nothing obsessive or dark. Just imagine reader being too friendly with the Corinthian cause she find him a funny nightmare or they get along just too well, and the Corinthian watching the grumpy morpheus only goes more gentlemanly with reader to annoy him. Or just reader spending too much time with Mathew cause hey, he used to be human so they have much in common. Grumpy morpheus till he gets her attention back at him

The Corinthian and Reader being best friends is an idea that I'm OBSESSED with!!! Dream would try so hard to be supportive but Corinthian is such a little shit that he'd just immediately know Dream was seething with jealousy and do everything he could to make it worse 🤣 So, enjoy!!! 😍

Dream watched as his sweet dreamer laughed at his nightmares side, the sight should be comforting and fill him with relief at the knowledge that she loved all his creations, dream or nightmare. But this did not make him feel good. Not when The Corinthian looked up and tipped his hat to his creator with a smug grin. Not when you seemed to be so close with his most fearsome nightmare.

You had spent so much time with him, walking through The Dreaming and laughing at the jokes he told you, giving him handmade gifts and kisses on the cheek, seeking him out to tell him about something funny you'd heard earlier. The two of you had become near inseparable and Dream was jealous. Not of The Corinthian in particular, though he did manage to just know exactly how to get under Dreams skin, but of everyone that blessed to your attention and affection.

He was not a particularly possessive man, not anymore at least, but he couldn't help the persistent itch to toss you over his shoulder and steal your attention for himself. Instead, he'd taken to moping. He sat on his throne and watched you giggle with his raven at the bottom of the steps, a deep pout evident on his face. You glanced back at him and shook your head. "It's been fun, feathers, but I think someone needs some attention."

Matthew looked up at him and chuckled. "Damn I don't think I've ever seen you look so sad, boss."

"Don't you have duties to attend to?" He practically growled.

The bird took flight, laughing quietly as you ascended the steps to stand in front of him. "Have I neglected you, Dream Lord?"

"No," he said. "You have given me much attention in the past days."

"Then why do you pout?" You asked, running your soft thumb over his bottom lip.

Dream sighed, pulling you into his lap, gently nuzzling his face into your neck. "I liked having your attention too much, it seems."

"Ahh, so you're jealous then?"

"No."

You laughed and pulled his face up to yours, pressing light kisses to his head and cheeks before pressing one to his lips. "Want to know a secret?" He only hummed in answer. "You're my favorite."

Dream smiled now, holding you tightly against him. "I should hope so."

"Just don't tell Corinthian." You added. "He'd be very offended."

"Yes... That would be horrible."

You should have known you'd come back the next night to a very offended Corinthian demanding to know if uptight Dream of the Endless was really your favorite, but the sight was well worth it in Dream's mind.

228 notes · View notes

hoodievixen · 1 year

Text

I can't get this out of my head ever since I add the song to the playlist I listen to at work.

Lucienne: My Lord, you must see what I've discovered.

Dream: What is it?

Lucienne *to Y/N and Matthew* : Could you spell bananas for me.

Y/N and Matthew at the same time: It's bananas B-A-N-A-N-A-S (to the rhythm of Hollaback Girl)

Lucienne and Dream (who both were occupied in the early 2000's): *confused by this*

Y/N and Matthew (alive in the early 2000's): *knows this is how anyone spells the word anymore*

#dream of the endless #the sandman #sandman comics #morpheus #netflix sandman #morpheus x reader #dream of the endless x reader #matthew the raven #lucienne

131 notes · View notes

withoutyouimsaskia · 2 years

Text

Remember Me, Special Dreams

Part VIII.

GIF: Originally posted by @sic-vita

Summary: Self-insert. You're having trouble with recurring night terrors and Morpheus pays you a visit. (Title from the lyrics of Placebo’s Special Needs)

Warnings: language, angst, mentions of night terrors.

Word Count: 1.4k

A/N: Hiya! Hope this message finds you well. I’m so excited to be able to introduce a couple of familiar faces in this chapter. Let me know how you like it and enjoy your evening/day.

Sandman Masterlist

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

Morpheus’ sand swirls softly around your body for the second time in two nights. You pay more attention to the process this time round since you are aware of what is happening. Your understanding does nothing to delay things however. The pull towards sleep is inexorable. Your eyes fall closed and your mind drifts.

The next sensation you are aware of is a surface coming up to meet your soles.

The impact with the flagstones is jarring. You wobble like a new-born lamb taking their first steps.

Morpheus is unaffected, his posture is perfect, his dark locks unruly but not messy. You suppose you should not be surprised; this is his realm after all.

You are standing in a corridor fashioned from a pale stone. Steady flames in torch brackets emit a warm light. A large wooden door sits before you.

“Where are we?” You ask.

“This is my palace.”

His reply catches you off guard.

You have no idea what to say back so you smile and nod a few times.

“Walk with me,” he requests politely.

The doors open of their own accord which sends your eyes widening, but the view through them goes one step further. Your mouth genuinely drops.

You see a library. A library beyond your wildest imaginings. One with lots and lots of windows and walkways and spiral staircases. Grand and majestic and yet inviting and peaceful.

Morpheus begins to move. His strides are long and you are so enraptured by your surroundings that you struggle to keep up with him.

You somehow reach a table. You barely notice the scarlet upholstered chairs or the blue reading lamps, let alone the presence of another person standing at the head of it. You are too distracted by the never-ending morphing of the shelves and the impossibly large amount of books that sit on them.

"Why didn’t you mention this place sooner? I would have been much easier to persuade if you had led with this.” You are still looking up as you tease the Dream King.

You manage to drag your attention away from the magical scene.

A person watches you bemusedly over the top of their round rimmed glasses.

Colour rushes to your cheeks.

"Oh!"

You shrink backwards in the throes of a cringe attack.

"Lucienne."

"Lord Morpheus."

You watch their simple exchange but cannot help but notice the warmth in their eyes.

Then, those two pairs of eyes fix on you.

“Y/N, I would like you to meet Lucienne. Lucienne is the custodian of the palace library and provides me with invaluable counsel regarding matters of great importance in the Dreaming. You can trust her with your life.”

You can barely contain your excitement; not only had Morpheus brought you to his literal home, he had also just introduced you to a friend.

Embarrassment suppressed, you approach Lucienne and offer your hand to shake.

“Hi, it’s a pleasure to meet you. I’m Y/N.”

Between her returning beaming smile and fantastic outfit, you realise that you are quickly beginning to like Lucienne.

You step back beside Morpheus. A soothing vibration spreads through you as his hand hovers near the small of your back. You instinctively lean towards him, but the sensation disappears when Lucienne visibly notices the declining space between you.

Morpheus starts to explain the circumstances of your presence.

“I have recently confirmed that Y/N’s parasomnia is responsible for the unusual activity we have been experiencing in recent times.”

The smile drops from Lucienne’s face.

“Sir, are you sure it is safe for someone with that kind of influence to be at the heart of the Dreaming? I cannot help but compare the events to those created by vortexes.”

“Y/N is not a vortex.”

“But Sir-,”

He speaks again with quiet authority, “Y/N is not a vortex, Lucienne, and she is here because she is under my protection.”

“Of course My Lord. Forgive my caution.”

“You need not apologise, you have every right to be cautious, and I thank you for voicing your concerns.”

Lucienne nods. “Will that be all My Lord, or is there something I can assist you with?"

Morpheus gestures to the pile of books on the table.

Your eyes track down the spines. Your full name stands out in gold lettering on a couple of them. At the bottom of the stack, sits the first volume from ‘A Song of Ice and Fire.’

He had looked up Game of Thrones like you had suggested.

You suppress a giggle as Morpheus starts talking to Lucienne again.

“I made a start yesterday in cross referencing the records of seismic disturbances in the realm against Y/N’s nightmares. I would appreciate a second pair of hands to reach a conclusion more swiftly.”

“I would be happy to, My Lord.”

Lucienne sits down, moving the tails of her coat out the way. Morpheus sits opposite.

“Let me get this straight. Everyone’s dreams are recorded here in these books?”

“That is correct, as well as every book that has ever been imagined in the Waking World, even if they are unpublished or unwritten.” Lucienne says.

"So this is how you were able to look up my dreams for the cottage dream?”

“It is, yes,” Morpheus affirms.

He and Lucienne begin to read. After less than a minute, they are talking out loud about your night terrors in explicit detail.

It brings them back with disgusting clarity, and reinforces to you just how much trouble you seem to cause everyone you come into contact with.

Then, more and more technical words and phrases that mean nothing to you start to be woven into the already triggering conversation.

You look back and forth between Lucienne and Morpheus, an uneasy sensation in your gut.

You are very aware of the fact that you are becoming overwhelmed.

Your inferiority complex starts a berating inner monologue.

In your already heightened emotional state, this thought process quickly spirals out of control.

The word burden stands out. It bounces around your neurons with persistence.

You are already so wounded by your guilt and self-loathing that every insult sticks like toffee to a molar. Not impossible to remove but likely to stay around for a good while and exacerbate the ache in your heart.

It all becomes too much.

You are checking your surroundings for a way to leave.

It appears that backwards is your only option so you take it. You move slowly at first, tiptoe stance engaged.

“Y/N?”

Morpheus speaks your name but you know you are too far now for him to be able to see you.

“Let her go, My Lord.” You hear Lucienne say.

“But-”

“Let her go. In my experience, humans only slip away when they do not wish to be followed. Give her some time alone.”

“Very well,” Morpheus acquiesces softly.

Despite this comment, you do not trust that he won’t change his mind.

You run the remainder of the way from the room and also in some of the corridors beyond.

It is only when you find the palace entrance do you finally stop.

Tears start to fall as you walk across the bridge over the mirror lake. You find a sheltered spot in amongst some trees and try to stem the flow of sadness.

There’s a creaking noise as an imposing black carrion swoops down to sit on a branch above you.

The bird caws once.

"Hello," you say meekly.

"Hi!"

Your eyebrows rise.

"What the f-" You start to exclaim before catching yourself. "No, remember, this is the literal place where dreams are made, of course there could be a talking bird."

"I am way more than just a bird, I’m Matthew, one of Lord Morpheus’ ravens.” His tone is sassy and little proud.

You huff. “Did Lord Morpheus send you to come and check on me, Matthew?”

“Nope.”

You look down. “Oh, I’m sorry.”

“Don’t worry about it.” He flies down and sits beside you on the verdant grass.

“What’s your name?” He asks, fixing a bright, beady eye on you.

“Y/N.”

Matthew squawks. “You’re Y/N?! The Dreamer that Morpheus has been going to visit.”

“The very same.”

”Well, Y/N, I can’t help but notice that you’ve been crying. You want to talk about it?”

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

"Oh no what's this, a spider web and I'm caught in the middle. So I turned to run. The thought of all the stupid things I've done."

Taglist: @pinkcyclewitch @layla2-49 @shoidy-cat @silverhart93 @boofy1998 @dotieeee

226 notes · View notes

book-place · 2 years

Text

The Nature of Things

Warnings: none (I think), let me know if I missed any :)

Pairings: Matthew the raven x reader platonic

Request: Matthew the raven x child reader. Imagine an 11 or 12 year old just came across the raven

Request by: @popfishjr

*not my gif*

Summary: Matthew decides to visit the waking world, meeting an unlikely friend along the way

A/N: Sorry this is so short and really bad writing

Please don’t plagiarize my work, you may reblog if you like but I’m asking that you don’t steal my hard work

Matthew flew, hundreds of feet above the waking world, taking it all in.

Since he had become a raven, he found that flying had quickly become his favorite pastime. And as much as he loved to do it in the dreaming, where there was always a nice breeze that flowed across his feathers in just the right way, he missed his home, where he grew up.

Sure, the waking world wasn’t nearly as clean, or as beautiful as where he now resided in, but it was a place that was so familiar that it brought him momentary peace.

He hadn’t meant to begin in the direction of the place that he had once lived, his wings sort of just brought him there without allowing him to think much of it.

Eventually, he was on the tree that was right in front of the house he had, once upon a time, owned and lived in for years.

He supposed that he should have expected a new family to have moved in, but there was still a bit of surprise that hit him as he looked through the windows, watching a family move about their daily lives.

One member in particular caught his attention, a young girl, about eleven years old, sitting at a seat near an open window with her head in her hand, staring out.

Matthew cocked his head to the side in curiosity before slowly lifting off the branch and flying over until he was in the air a couple feet in front of you.

Instead of stumbling back and screaming at the close proximity of the bird like he had expected you to, you just blinked up at him, not saying anything.

The two of you stayed in silence for a few moments, staring at each other without really knowing what to do.

“You’re a pretty little thing.” You eventually spoke up softly, switching to leaning your head into your other hand.

Matthew didn’t reply, not knowing how you would exactly react to a talking bird, especially at your age. It was so hit or miss.

“I like animals,” You continued, “And nature. It’s all so beautiful.”

“I like nature too.” He hadn’t meant to speak up, but as soon as he did, his beady little eyes widened.

Your head came out of your hand immediately and you sat straight up, but you didn’t run. Or scream. You just sat there, once again allowing silence to fill the void and blinked at each other.

“You… talk.” You finally spoke up slowly, eyeing the small bird up and down.

He sighed, preparing for the worse, “Yeah… yeah, I do.”

A grin broke out onto your face and you excitedly began speaking, “That is so cool! Oh my gosh, how long have you been able to do that? How do you do that?”

Matthew was taken aback. You, a human child, were not afraid of the bird that could talk as if he were still human.

“My-my name is Matthew.” He stuttered out, not even answering any of your questions with that statement.

“Awesome,” You looked up at him in awe.

“Y/n!” A voice from deeper inside the house called, “Dinners ready!”

A small frown pulled at your lips as you jumped up from your chair, “I have to go, but… will I see you again?”

He was silent for a moment, thinking of how to answer, but then he realized that he really wouldn’t mind coming back to the waking world and visiting his old home again, visiting you again.

He nodded his head, “Yeah, you will.”

You smiled and called out, “Bye, Matthew!” Before turning on your heel and scurrying out of the room.

Matthew stayed there for a moment, hovering in midair, before smiling and turning away, going to return back to the dreaming for the time being.

The next time he saw you, he figured he would tell you about it there. He felt like you would appreciate how beautiful the place sounded, and it would be nice to have a friend in the waking world again.

The Endless 🌌- @popfishjr

#platonic #platonic imagine #x reader #child reader #the sandman fanfic #the sandman x reader #matthew the raven #matthew the raven x reader #matthew the raven x child reader #matthew the raven x reader platonic

90 notes · View notes

emomensimp · 2 years

Text

When your emo boss ghosts everyone

5K notes · View notes

daddyjackfrost · 2 years

Text

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.

764 notes · View notes

igotanidea · 1 year

Text

The perks of injuries : Morpheus x reader

Request: Reader is able to enter the dreaming physically, not just while asleep. Time pass, she starts to feel comfortable around lord and acting like they're friends (she thinks they really are, but we know Dream and his "I don't need anyone"). One day something awful happened, maybe reader was being followed in the night on her way home or some natural disaster appeared, so she went to the dreaming out of fear, but Morpheus being his moody self with a lot of work thought she would just get on his nerves or something like this and just sent her back to earth, maybe with saying about her being too loud/clingy for him to normally work. In the real world she got badly hurt and the only person who helped her out was Hob/Matthew/Death. The same day or the next dream found out about it from her saver (if it's hob maybe during their meeting which was due the same day everything happened, matthew when he came back, death when she was just passing by his realm). Ending with guilty, comforting Morpheus.

Oh, hello there. I haven’t seen you lurking in the shadows.

I don’t think we’ve meet before so let me introduce myself. In this story my name is irrelevant and it’s better if you only know me by my function. I am the spirit, that little spark that lives inside every human and stays there even after people die. Of course, I am dressed in human form but you should not be tricked with that outside.

Because of my purpose and abilities, during my lifetime I have already met a lot of different creatures, god, embodiments of human believes. Funny how their faith and imagination brings all of them to life and keep them that way.

The Endless are the ones I have to work with most of the time. I already mentioned Death – surprisingly she is the sweetest girl you have ever met, full of optimism and joy but there are another 6 of them. Destiny, Destruction, Desire, Despair, Delirium and Dream. I purposefully left Dream at the end since I have the strongest relation with him. He rules the sleeping domain, but even when people dream their spirit stay active so it’s my job to ensure nightmares or dreams do not become too vivid. It’s my duty to watch over them all the time, much to Dream’s displeasure.

Despite his attitude during the years we were able to make this relation work without interfering too much with one another and that required my presence in the Dreaming from time to time to check out if everything was going smoothly. Therefore I was granted the ability to project myself in his Kingdom not only while sleeping (since I was still a lot like human) but also in my psychical form. At some point I started considering Dream as my friend, but he was far more reserved with the use of such word.

***

It was heavy day. October mood started to settle in and people were slowly indulging in their autumn sadness, sleepiness and weariness. Focusing only on the most important things, rarely leaving homes and spending days in front of TV, tucked in blankets. Lack of sun and happiness could be felt by everyone and Despair slowly started to pull her claws on those who were prone to seasonal mood swings and depression. I would lie if I said it all had no effect on their spirits and in result – on me. I was losing energy and focus and motivation to do anything and it was not good. Definitely not. Despite my best efforts I felt all the emotions and instead of acting like a spiritual being I was behaving like human. Which also meant I was more vulnerable than usual.

“Heading home?” my friend from work stopped by my desk on her way out, worry all over her face

“Sorry?” I raised my head from the pile of documents, not sure of the day or even the hour

“It’s late” she said “you should finish for today. You have been working too hard lately.”

“Yeah, maybe you are right” how could I even begin to explain that work helped me get my mind busy. And being a scientist required constant focus on the experiment and researches so it really helped “but you know how it is, if you don’t keep up the pace you will be left behind and we don’t want another team to outrun us, do we?”

“Nope. But we also don’t want a member of the team to die on the shift, so try to remember that. Team, right, we are all in this together so no reason to act like a martyr.”

“I don’t….” I started but she cut me off

‘You do. I don’t know what’s been going on with you lately, but something’s different.”

“Must be the weather.” I smiled innocently not revealing the true reason behind it all.

“Right. Lame excuse. Go home. I’ll see you tomorrow” she fastened the belt and I waved her goodbye.

Honestly, deep inside I knew she was right. It was almost 7 p.m., the streets were dark and deserted and I was in need of rest. Even if I hated it. Reluctantly I stood up, turned off the lights, closed the door and started walking home. But as soon as I stepped out of the office I felt something was wrong. Seemingly quiet and dimly lit street, instead of radiating calmness and peacefulness was eerie and terrifying. I felt it in the pit of my stomach and my heart instantly started beating faster. Don’t get me wrong, I am not a coward and I’ve seen a lot of dark, scary things inside humans souls, but this…. This feeling was something different. Something more primal, carnal and definitely not coming from Earth.

“Come out now, show yourself!” I spun around searching for the threat. Yes, I know I’ve learned nothing from the horror movies. I should have run the other direction instead of walking straight into the arms of it. “Are you chickening out now?” I mocked, using all the efforts to make my voice sound firm and confident.

There was no response but the lights flickered slightly and out of nowhere the wind broke off.

“Oh, great” I mumbled “someone needs some demonstration of powers. Why not bring the earthquake or a hurricane.”

“If you wish so, I can make it happen.“

“Desire” I hissed while spotting black-dressed, thin and high figure moving in front of me “are you alone this time?”

“Hello, spirit. Despair sends her regards, but she could not visit this time.”

“Such a shame.” I pouted “but her presence seem to be …. Pervasive, lately. I suppose she is in high spirits?”

“My dear, you can’t even imagine.” Desire purred “and what brings her the most pleasure is you suffering because of your beloved humanity.”

“I bet it is” I groaned as a sharp sting run through my stomach “do you have a business with me, Desire? It’s not often I see you in the Waking.”

“This is an exception from a rule. I know you’ve been suffering lately and I came for the aid.”

“Aid?” I raised an eyebrow “Did you bump your head, Desire?”

“You misunderstood me. My aid is more like ending your suffering”

“I don’t suffer” I folded over in sudden pain and started catching my breath rapidly.

“Liar” Desire put on the widest smile and took a step forward

“What are you doing to me?” I was now kneeling on the ground, feeling worse and worse with its proximity.

“You should know better, spirit. Desire is something that is detrimental to the …. Metaphysical aspects of human existence. Don’t you ever read any religious texts?”

“I know them too well, actually” I gasped

“Good. Then you will know what is coming next for you” Desire popped a squat next to me and grabbed my chin forcefully causing me to look at them. “You are going to suffer, a lot. I will make you beg for …..”

“Why?” I groaned trying to yank myself.

“Because you are a nuisance. You make people better, more noble and gentle. I don’t like that.”

I hissed in pain once again, not able to hold it back.

“Yes.” Desire purred full of vengeful satisfaction “ it hurts, doesn’t it? And there is nowhere to run.”

“That’s where you are wrong, Desire” I looked them straight into the eyes, sudden crazy though popping inside my mind.

“What? What are you talking about?” their smile slightly dropped

“Goodbye, Desire. I would say it was a pleasure to meet you, but as you know I am not the best liar in the world” I said and hissing and pain gathered all my power to transport myself to the only place that could possibly ensure my safety from one of the Endless.

***

The portal I opened was so powerful that it made me lose my balance and fell onto the sandy shore by the Dreaming’s gate. Coughing and panting I used my hand for support before my head got injured due to the impact.

“Shit! Shit, shit!” I really hoped I would be able to get straight into the castle but apparently the stress influenced my focus. Even though I was safe now and Desire could not get me here without invitation to Dream’s realm (which was never happening) I jumped and rushed towards the entry. “Please, open up” I put a hand where normally the doorknob would be and whispered silent pleas. I was lucky enough to made it move, in painfully slow and glitzy way. I was not patient enough to wait and slipped through the gap running towards the palace.

“Dream!” I panted running straight into the throne room catching my breath

“Spirit.” His cold voice made me straighten up immediately to safe the rests of the dignity, but my messy hair and reddened face did nothing to help me. “Why are you here?”

“Oh, you know, I was just nearby and decided to pay you a visit.”

“You were not invited. Your unexpected visitations are becoming a bother to the Kingdom”

“Morpheus ….” that was painful “you surely don’t mean that…..”

“What seems to be the matter this time?” he raised his gaze and looked at my messy figure. “Did something happen?” the last question was barely a show of acknowledgement more

“Yeah, just your sibling came at me trying to destroy my inner peace. No biggie.” I fixed a single strand of hair trying to give shaking hands something to hold on to.

“Desire?”

“Who else?”

“I shall deal with my sibling soon then, if you were not able to do so. Anything else?”

“Yes, actually” I started fiddling with my fingers nervously

“What is it?” the way he was towering over me made me feel weak an completely at his mercy. As much as I hated begging there was no other option.

“Please, don’t make me go back to waking. At least not straight away. Let me stay, Morpheus”

“I’m busy, spirit. I don’t have time for that. And I see no reason to do so. “

“You know well enough I have no power against Desire, Morpheus and if they are after me, Waking is not safe. I’m really scared, please. I thought as my friend you would help me.” Oh, forget the dignity, fear got the worst of me.

“Waking is your realm and you should go back there immediately. Dreaming has its own affairs and it’s not a hideout for you, spirit. Go back to your Realm, protect it and I will take of Desire after I’m done with my duties.”

“Morpheus, please…. I….”

“That’s all, Spirit.”

“Fine. Thanks for your help, Dream. Hope everything works well for you here. I suppose I see you when there’s another vortex or some other threat to your Kingdom. You never had any inhibitions to ask for my help."

I marched out the palace and with still shaking hands returned to the same place in the Waking. Luckily, Desire was out of sight, for now, but knowing them, this was far from over.

***

I had a sleepless night. After my little banter with Morpheus no dream came to me and obviously I did not even enter the Dreaming. He was either acting like a child or was truly busy with some serious and urgent matter, most probably both those reason combined. So when the morning came I was even more tired than before. And there was one more thing, just a little something that normally would not get my attention but since I knew that I was on Desire’s radar I was far more alert. I was becoming paranoid and there was no way I could go to work like that, so the only option was to call in and excuse myself with being sick. The last thing I needed was ending up in the mental hospital or someone discovering my true identity. Muttering some protective spell I walked round the apartment searching for the source of something dark and evil I could clearly feel. It was not Desire, for sure. This was more… infernal, cruel and well, less sly than Dream’s sibling. Suddenly, the though dawned on me. They send a demon after me. The worst kind of the Hell’s servant, known as Hellfire. Talk about a threat to a spirit. This one could crash me with a single snap of his fingers.

“Spirit.” he spoke contently “such a pleasure”

“I did not expect you in my flat.” I trembled “what brings you to me?”

“A debt to Desire. Seems like today I will finally be able to pay it.”

“I’m not going down willingly.” I raised hand creating some sort of shield between us

“Funny, I was not asking” he looked at me and I felt this kind of pain that really make you wanna give up and die. My whole body was on fire, my insides being twisted and turned and I could only see the blackness. My light and soul power was still there, but it was not enough to go against the demon. Darkness slowly started to creep in, every positive though I had gone and suppressed by negativity, sadness, evil. There was no good in the world, people were ungrateful, greedy creatures, life was meaningless.

“Death….” I whispered faintly before losing conscience and giving in to the devilish powers.

***

When I opened my eyes I was lying under cover, the demon gone and my flat looking like nothing happened. Was that a dream? But why would Morpheus allow something like that? Was he really that mad at me for seeking his help? I tried to move but my whole body was aching and even breathing was problematic. I also felt some pressure on my abdomen and after lifting up the shirt I discovered some dressing across my stomach.

“Who’s here?” I screamed at the space once again alerted. I was in no condition to fight but I would if I had to.

“Hey, no! Lay back down” black-skinned woman came running off the kitchen forcing me back onto the cushions. “You got pretty badly hurt, dear. You need rest.”

“Hello, Death” I closed my eyes, enjoying her warm hand on my forehead “What happened?”

“How much do you remember?”

“I remember Hellfire coming after me. “

“That is not something you can forget" she muttered” you called for me and that was good decision.”

“Guess my human instincts kicked in. Thank you. Amongst the Endless you are the only one I can count on.”

“How so?” she raised an eyebrow “Actually, wait. I was a bit surprised when I heard your voice. I mean, usually you are rather more fond of collaborating with my brother, so why me?”

“I did ask Dream for help, but he….”

“Wait.” She raised hand stopping me from talking “He denied you?”

“He was busy.”

“He is always busy. And his affairs are usually about him sulking and going through something. I love my brother, but he is an idiot. This could have ended up so bad….” She shook her head and the curly hair bounced around emphasizing her annoyance. “Did you tell him Desire was after you?”

“How do you know that?” I propped myself on the elbow but the injuries made me fall back hissing. “Shit!”

“It does not take a genius. Only Desire would send a demon after you. unless you also have some affair with Morningstar I should know about?” I shook my head denying that “Good. But Dream…., I think I will need a word with him.”

“The boss is already on his way. Will you let me in?” familiar Raven perched down on the sill looking through the raked window.

“Sure, come on in, Matthew” I sighed reaching for the handle and letting him in.

“Are you all right?”

“Besides dizziness, third-degree burns and scarred pride I think I will pull through. Not thanks to Dream, though. “

“He is ……” Matthew started but quickly stopped

“Do not speak in my name Matthew.”

“Oh, hello brother. Seems like you and I have a lot to talk about” Death smiled at her younger sibling appearing in the room, but tone of her voice was far from happy, rather reprobative.

“Guys” I captured their attention “as much as I appreciate you all coming here, can a girl get some peace and calm to heal? You know, you don’t confront a demon every day. Death, thank you for your help, truly, but can you and your brother get your little fight somewhere else?”

Death eyed her brother carefully while he was hunched, his gaze focused on the floor.

“Sure” she shrugged “you need peace, you are right. But I think Dream might have something to tell you, so I’ll leave you two alone. Matthew, care to join me outside?”

“Sure thing, Lady Death.”

“We will have this conversation, brother, just later. What comes up must go down” she went to hug him and whispered into his ear “tell her!” then the older endless turned back to me, still in bed “see you soon, dear, take care of yourself and if you ever need something don’t hesitate to call me. Bye.”

Without her presence the atmosphere in the room suddenly became more tense. Dream was standing in the same position, his feet rooted to the ground, while I was just biting my lip and trying to look everywhere but on him. Awkward.

“Dream…..” I spoke

“Spirit……” he said at the same time and this made us silent once again.

Finally, after what seemed like eternity he came closer and sat down on the edge of the couch making me move away instantly.

“Please, don’t” he whispered

“Don’t what?”

“Don’t …. Run from me.”

“Run from you?! Are you serious Dream? I run straight into you when I felt the danger coming. And what was your response? I am busy. Isn’t that what you said?” the anger and hurt found the way out at last.

“I did….I…..I….” he stuttered

“What?”

“I apologize, spirit. I should have taken you seriously.”

“You should have.” I agreed looking away, still hurt. “Well, apologies accepted I guess.”

“No.” he grabbed my hand gently

“No? I don’t understand.”

“You should be mad. You should scream and shout and call me an idiot. But you are just too good for me, aren’t you?” he searched for my face and as our gazes met I finally came into realization

“Morpheus?” I coughed out “what are you…..”

“When you came to me…. I panicked. You make me…. Feel things and that is something I haven’t experienced in some time. “

“Is that bad?”

“It’s dangerous. Every woman I loved, every feeling I held for anyone always ended up badly.”

“Loved?” I opened my eyes in surprise “Dream…..”

“Yes. It’s true. I love you, spirit. And now I feel so guilty for letting you get hurt. And ‘m terrified for your safety. We still have joint affairs and business and I don’t know if I can keep it up like that. Maybe it would be better and safer for you with me gone”

“Shut up, Morpheus!” I interrupted his teary confession unable to take it anymore. “Your sister is right, you are an idiot. Why do you think I came to you in the first place? Why do you think I project myself in the Dreaming every time I get the chance? Why do you think I meddled with humans mentality so they would get your attention and you would come to me for change. Did you believe it all to be coincidental?”

“I…” oh, now he was speechless “I never ....”

“Well, now you know.” I looked down, my cheek turning red. “It’s your decision what to do with it. You can leave but you can…. you know, stay.”

“My love” he whispered and before I realized what was happening he was kissing me gently and mindful of all the injuries “I am sorry. I’ll stay with you as long as you’ll have me.”

“Then you are up for a long ride. But I believe you have a word to exchange with your sister first.”

“She can wait” he whispered moving in once again but I stopped him by putting hand on his chest.

“She cannot. Before this gets serious you need some sense knocked into your head. Go talk to her and be quick. You made me wait for you long enough.”

“Anything for you, love. “ he kissed my temple and reluctantly, yet obediently left to be scolded by Death. @somest1 @pinksirensong

506 notes · View notes

writinggraveyard · 5 months

Text

|| The Sandman Collection ||

Main Collection || Navigation || Inbox [request closed]

☞ Timestamps ⌈✦⌋ Miscellaneous ☞ dividers / banners by @ cafekitsune

|| Do Not Copy Or Upload Anywhere Else ||

✦⌈ Dream Of The Endless ⌋✧

n o n e . . .

✦⌈ The Corinthian ⌋✧

n o n e . . .

✦⌈ Hob Gadling ⌋✧

n o n e . . .

✦⌈All Characters Collection⌋✦

n o n e . . .

42 notes · View notes

nocturneindream · 1 year

Text

Gallows of the Dreaming

~ Chapter two: The Exorcist ~

~ 18+ | Minors DNI | AFAB Reader | No Y/N ~

AO3 | Chapter One

Disclaimer: I do not claim to own any characters from The Sandman comics or Netflix series. This is purely creative writing.

Word Count: 8.5k

Chapter warnings: Violence, graphic depictions of gore, religious themes (exorcisms & demons), relived trauma (childhood memories of abuse), foul language, Dream unintentionally being a bit of an ass.

If you might be triggered by any of the above, I'd recommend skipping this chapter entirely (especially the gore TW). There will be enough context in the following chapters to understand what happened.

A/N: Strap in, this chapter’s a long one. Could it have been split up into multiple? Probably. But I like my fics long & wordy. I know this took a while (and that’s an understatement) & hope it was worth the wait for those of you who read the first chapter. If you would like to be added or removed from my tag list, please send me a DM. They will be listed in the comments just to keep the actual post length manageable.

As always, feel free to comment, send in any questions, and like/re-blog this post. Enjoy!

- Kathryn ;)

Do NOT re-write, translate, copy, re-post, or claim my writing as your own. Thanks!

“It’s a bit late for a cup of coffee.” You remark tiredly, flopping into the opposite end of the small booth. The brunette’s eyes don’t meet yours as you settle into your seat, too engrossed in people-watching through the dew-drenched café window. She rests her head in one hand whilst the other mindlessly sirs her drink.

“I could do without sleep for a while.” She says, bringing the plain mug to her lips, face scrunching at the bitter taste. You make note of the light purple rings beneath her eyes as she reaches for a miniature cup of half-and-half between you, wondering how long she’s been awake and what’s kept her up. “Besides, I’ve got a job after this.”

“Well,” You sigh. “Then I won’t keep you for long. Did you find anything?” You hope she did, hope you’ll finally have something - anything - to point you in the right direction. Wordlessly, she snakes a hand into the tote bag at her side, retrieving a manilla envelope and sliding it across the sleek table.

“What’s this?” You question, pinching open the prongs and pulling out the scraggly piece of yellowed parchment inside.

“A family heirloom.” A small smile graces her lips as her eyes glaze with memories. “My Gran used to tell me stories all the time. Fairytales, really.”

You scan over the drawing in your hands: Two men seated at opposite ends of a tavern table, dressed in period clothing. Late eighteen-hundreds if you had to guess. Beneath the sketch, the parchment reads: ‘The Devil and the Wandering Jew.’

“What’s the fairytale behind this?”

“According to my Gran, an ancestor of mine hunted him down.” She pauses to peel open and stir the creamer into her coffee. “She was shit with managing her money. Nearly lost it all to god knows what, and with creditors pounding at the door she was starting to run out of options. By some miracle, she found that drawing stitched inside a dead man’s pocket and figured anything would be worth the gamble to save her from losing her status and being forced to beg on the streets - or worse.” She sips from her mug, a hum of approval sounding in her throat. “So she hunted him down, and when she found him, demanded riches and immortality.”

“What happened then?” You press, and her brown eyes finally meet yours. “Well, obviously he didn’t grant her immortality, or else she’d be the one having this conversation with you. But, he did offer her a few odd jobs. She earned his respect, and his money.” Respect and money from the Devil. An interesting story, but not what you’d asked for. Perceptive eyes catch your disappointment from beyond the rim of her mug as she takes a long swig.

“What’s the matter? You seem a bit edgy.” You fight against the knit of your brows, the disheartened frown tugging at the corners of your mouth. Her mug gently clangs against the table as she sets it down and leans over her elbows into your line of sight, redirecting your attention from the page.

“I appreciate you digging this up but,” You shake your head, slipping the drawing back into its envelope. “I didn’t need information on the Devil. I needed information on the Sandman.” Your former classmate nods in understanding.

“It wasn’t the Devil she’d tracked.” She reaches across the table, swiftly pulling the envelope from under your fingers and back toward her. “Dream, she called him. Dream of the Endless.” Dream. It’s no lead, but it’s certainly more than you’d managed to find out for yourself over the last three weeks, and you’re grateful for her effort.

“Thank you, Johanna.” She waves away your earnest gratitude, pinning you with an inquisitive glare.

“Tell me why you’re digging about the business of an Endless.” Her demand catches you off guard, though it shouldn’t. She’s always been quick and to the point, never missing a single piece of the puzzle. If there’s information to be gained, she’ll find a way to get it. No matter the cost. Precisely why you’d enlisted her help.

“It’s a long story.”

“Then make it short.” Frankly, you’re not sure you should tell her. She might think you’ve gone mad. What should it matter to her? But, the truth - with a mind of its own - erupts under her intimidating stare.

“Roderick and Alexander Burgess are why” You admit, fidgeting with the tag of your coat. “Had him locked in their basement for almost a century, naked and alone in a glass cage.”

“Jesus fuck.” She hisses, eyes wide. “So you’ve met him?”

“I freed him.” You shift uncomfortably in your seat, eyes cast down toward your twiddling thumbs. If you thought long enough about it, you could still feel the grains of sand against your cheeks - in your eyes, his chilled hand against yours as you tugged him loose. Your palm tingles with remembrance, and you clench your fist. A poor attempt at replacing the sensation. Johanna spots the movement. Nothing gets past her.

“If you’re as smart as you were back in school, you’ll move on.” She speaks truthfully, as though that’s the obvious - sane - answer to your situation.

“Why would I do that? I’ve already put so much time and-” “Move on.” She urges, placing a warm hand atop yours.

“I need to make sure he’s ok.”

“You want to make sure the immortal personification of nightmares is ‘okay’?” She chides, eyes rolling at your sentiment. “You’ve lost the plot, mate.” Ouch.

You yank your hands from under hers, grabbing at the coat in your lap, muttering, “I should go.” You wiggle out of the booth, ready to leave, but nimble fingers catch your arm.

“I don’t work for free. You still owe me for getting you that interview,” She takes the envelope between her fingers, waving it near her face. “And for this.”

“How much?” You watch the cogs turn in her mind as she eyes you up and down, determining her price. No doubt expensive.

“Nothing you can’t work off.” Headlights flash through the window, sharpening the shadows of her cheekbones and jaw as she slides out from her seat, gathering her things. “Let’s go. Cab meter’s ticking.”

The London street lights gleam like a beacon off the silver circle on Johanna’s belt as she steps out of the cab, popping the collar of her pristine, white coat. Her sleek hair whips against her cheeks as she turns to you with a mischievous glint in her eyes.

“If you’re going to be messing about with primordial entities, then it’s time you learn what I do for a living.” She rotates on the heel of her boot, long strides swiftly carrying her up the concrete steps ahead. “Maybe that’ll change your mind.”

“It won’t.” You stubbornly assert. Her pace slows to a stop as she throws a patronizing glance at you over her shoulder. “Look, I appreciate your concern, but believe me. I already know the risks.” You don’t need a lesson in the dangers of magic. The aftermath of the Sandman’s release had been enough of an example.

You’d awoken the following morning tucked neatly between your soft sheets, unusually well-rested. The memories of the night before were so…hazy, as though they’d been no more than another nightmare. Until you heard them, the muffled sobs that floated down the hall and into your groggy ears. Only then had you realized the severity of the matter - the countless, horrible possibilities.

Though you shouldn’t have cared - not after all you’d seen and discovered, you shot toward the shared bedroom of your bosses, your heart a lump in your throat. The cries grew louder and louder, and as you flung open the door, you realized they’d been coming from Paul. His shoulders shook as he clung to the clammy hand of his partner, pleading into deaf ears, “Come back to me, Alex.”

Alexander Burgess laid before him, cold sweat dripping from his brows, head thrashing against his damp pillow. Continuous, frightened whimpers fell from his open mouth, as though he’d been trapped within his worst nightmare. A fitting fate, you thought as you stared at him, somehow knowing - sensing - the Sandman had delivered his due punishment. You couldn’t help the guilty satisfaction the sight brought you.

Paul hadn’t noticed your presence at first, not until you’d placed a soothing hand on his shoulder, as he had done for you many times before. For his role in releasing their captive, he’d been granted the small mercy of being spared. Though as you watched the tears cascade down his red, swollen face, you wondered if it could be considered mercy at all. He was utterly powerless, forced to watch as his lover suffered a fate worse than death.

“Do something!” He pleaded. Despite knowing there was likely nothing you could do, you stepped around the bed and peeled back Mr. Burgess’ eyelids. His pupils shifted, dilating and constricting rapidly. Heavy, panted breaths heaved from his chest as his body struggled to adjust to his affliction.

You shook your head, softly confirming, “There’s nothing I can do, Paul.”

There was no cure for this. Not even trained, award-winning doctors had been able to wake patients with the Sleepy Sickness. Nearly one hundred years had passed and patients still suffered, trapped within their dreams and nightmares. Some never slept at all. No cure, no known recoveries, no miracles. In one night, Mr. Burgess was lost to the world. A resentful, nasty piece of you silently thought, good riddance.

“What do you mean?” He scoffed. For the first time since you’d met the man, his usual pleasant tone was nowhere to be found. “Aren’t you his caretaker?! Fix this!” He demanded. Your eyes searched his twisted expression for some sense of reason, finding nothing but seething, misplaced rage.

“This is your fault, you know! I’d still have my Alex if it weren’t for you!” Snot dripped from his nose, mixing with the avalanche of tears free-falling from his bleary eyes. “Get out!” He bellowed, voice reverberating throughout the room - rattling your chest. He had never raised his voice at you.

Though the words had been born from grief, you couldn’t shake your outrage. How dare he? You wanted to yell, to stoop to his level and throw his actions back in his sniveling face, but part of you understood his perspective. While he had finally pushed himself to right the wrongs of his past, you had been the catalyst. Had you not snooped through the library, Paul would have lived out the rest of his life with the person he loved most, complacent - happy. You bit your cheek, closed your eyes, and held your tongue as he continued his fit.

“I want you out of this house by nightfall or so help me-” He wiped his tears away with the sleeve of his robe, eyes dulling as he turned back to his lost lover.

You weren’t naive. It had been apparent from the moment you laid eyes on the man in the glass that your time at the mansion would soon run out. Though you’d grown fond of Paul, you knew there was no coming back from what had happened, from the knowledge of what he’d allowed. You blinked away your tears, grabbed your things, and haven’t looked back since. You’d done the right thing, even if the fallout had been difficult to witness.

“Constantine.” You’re torn from your memories by the familiar depth of the voice that calls, breath catching in your throat at the sight of your stranger.

He’s clothed this time, clad in an all-black ensemble. Your eyes trail down the buttons of his knee-length coat to his slender hands as he tucks them inside his pockets. He’s focused solely on the woman in front of you, and you’re unsure whether he’s unaware of your presence or has purely chosen not to acknowledge it. Does he even remember you? How could he not? Three weeks. Three weeks of searching tirelessly only for him to stumble upon you.

“We have business, you and I.” He speaks confidently, demanding her immediate attention. She scoffs, squinting at him as though she can’t decide if they’ve met before.

“Get in line.” Her shoulder knocks against his as she pushes past him, unaware of who he is and the power he holds. “Can’t keep God waiting.” You remain frozen in place, baffled by the coincidence at hand.

His eyes settle on your figure, a dazzling shade of light blue, far from the feral, black celestial portals you’d seen behind the glass. The arrogant confusion from his interaction with Johanna ebbs away, replaced with recognition. Though wrapped tight within his gaze, you’re faintly aware of the fact that Johanna’s left you behind, entering the church to attend to her work for the night.

“Hi.” You exhale, forcing yourself to remember how to breathe as butterflies swarm in your stomach. Nearly a month had gone by since his release, and seeing him now - outside the glass - floods you with a sense of victory and relief.

“We meet again.” He offers a slight tilt of his head toward you in greeting before going after Johanna. The butterflies wither, dropping dead in the pit of your stomach as he nears the church behind her. You’d risked your job - your life - to free him and the most he had to say was ‘We meet again’?

“Hey!” You call, hot on his heels. “Wait up!” His figure slips through the slim opening of the large doors, and as you catch up, pushing them open further, he’s seemingly vanished. The only beings occupying the room are Johanna and another woman who, based upon the white collar around her neck, you presume works within the church. They speak in hushed tones, Johanna visibly wound up by their conversation as the other woman tries to state her case.

“No! It’s too risky with the royals. I already told the queen.”

“But-”

“If this goes sideways we’ll have a dead princess on our hands, a demon on the loose, and I’ll have no one to pay my fee.” You softly clear your throat and their heads whip in your direction.

“There you are!” Johanna waves you over. “Ric, this is an old university mate of mine. She’ll be assisting tonight.” Ric’s wary eyes skim you from head-to-toe.

“Brave soul you are, working with Johanna. You’d probably be better off with the demon.” She laughs, nudging your arm with her elbow in a failed attempt at lightening the palpable tension. Her joke falls flat, smile dropping as Johanna shoots daggers in her direction.

“What if I triple your fee?” Ric offers, hands wringing the spines of the leather-bound books she holds as distant screams echo from the far end of the church. The scent of rotten eggs permeates the room and you gag, pulling the collar of your shirt over your nose to block out the stench.

“What the hell is that?” You ask, disgusted.

“Sulfur.” The women confirm simultaneously.

“You’re an exorcist?” You question, remembering a Demonology class you two had shared as part of your undergraduate degrees. You never thought she’d make anything of it beyond research. The unbridled shock on your face doesn’t go unnoticed by Ric.

“You didn’t tell her?” The older woman’s worry-filled eyes flit between the two of you. Johanna simply shrugs.

“Well,” Ric sighs. “You’ll be needing these.” She hands a book to you both with a tight-lipped smile and offers - mostly to you, “Good luck.”

The church is nearly empty as you step atop the altar platform, illuminated by the golden glow of the few remaining candle stands. The room had been cleared, pews moved out of sight - out of the path of destruction, as though Ric knew things would get messy. You admire the painted figures within the grand mural, heart thumping to the rhythm of the growing footsteps outside.

An exorcism. You assumed these were rare occurrences in modern times. But according to Johanna, they’re far more frequent than she’d like. You fiddle apprehensively with the book Ric had given you - the Rītuāle Rōmānum, spine straightening as the doors creak open.

Johanna and the Princess enter with another, unexpected figure lagging behind, his fingers entwined with the Princess’. Her immaculate, white smile matches the sleek, floor-length gown she wears, not one blonde hair out of place on her head. Her partner - you presume - appears less than enthusiastic. He forces a small smile as she turns to share her excitement with him, his face falling as soon as it’s out of her sight. It dawns on you at this moment that you and Johanna are about to ruin what should be the happiest day of their lives. Or at least the happiest day of the Princess’ life. Johanna slips around your side, a white collar now tucked into her black shirt, and lightly grips your arm.

“Just go along with it.” She speaks to you through pearly, clenched teeth as she grins happily at the couple, stepping forward to begin the ceremony.

“It’s a pleasure to be your officiant tonight, Princess. This,” She waves her hand fluidly in your general direction. “Is my assistant and your legal witness. Any questions before we begin?”

“Are you sure you wanna do this?” The question comes from the Princess’ fiancé, followed by cold, calculating silence.

“Of course I do, Kevin.” She tongues her cheek, a poor attempt to push back her anger. “Why else would we be here?” Her fixed glare pins him in place, a warning that should he press further, there will be hell to pay.

“I just meant like-” He gulps. “Don’t you want all your family and photographers and stuff and-”

“No!” She snaps, startling herself and her jumpy partner. She quickly softens her expression and voice, reeling in her irritation. “I just want you.” She nods to Johanna, beckoning her to continue the ceremony.

“Do you, Princess, take-”

“I do.” Johanna’s brow raises at the interruption, but she continues. “Do you, Kevin, take the Princess to be your-” An audible crunch echoes through the room as the Princess’ hand bears down on Kevin’s. You hold in a surprised gasp, feeling awful for the young man before you. He has no idea that he’s hitching himself to a demon.

“Then repeat after me,” Johanna begins, flipping her book open. “Dā locum, dīrissime,” Your mixed voices fill the empty space as the words are recited.

“Dā locum, impiissime.” Kevin’s stomach releases a loud gurgle, discomfort overtaking his expression.

“Sorry,” He grunts out. “Probably just hungry. Y’know how it is before a big game-”

“Kevin!” The Princess whispers sharply. “It doesn’t matter.” She gestures for Johanna to continue. “Keep going.”

“Dā locum, Chrīstō.” Kevin doubles over, coughing and gagging as his hands claw at his throat. The princess is beside herself, scoffing and rolling her eyes at her partners’ obstructive behavior.

“Kevin, seriously? At our wedding?” Johanna ignores the woman, a lioness targeting her prey as she stalks toward the man, continuing to read from her book.

“Quī tē spoliāvit, quī rēgnum tuum dē strūxit!” Two large, meaty fingers emerge from Kevin’s mouth. He chokes on them as they slither out, veins protruding from his forehead and neck, eyes beginning to bulge from their sockets as the hands become wrists.

"Quī tē victum ligāvit, et vāsa tua dīripuit!” The sickening crack of Kevin's jaw echoes throughout the room, his body jerking backward as two full, muscular arms emerge from his mouth. His flesh rips and squelches around them, blood oozing down his neck from every facial orifice. The hands reach around to grip the back of Kevin's head, claws sinking into his scalp as they pull from either side. A loud roar bellows from the Demon inside Kevin as his body shreds in half, leaving the Demon standing amidst a gooey puddle of flesh and shattered bone.

Intricate, runic scars line its abdomen, spine visible outside its back and pierced between each vertebra with large silver hoops. Blood splatters stain the Princess's white gown, her eyes wide with shock, mouth agape as she stares in horror at the remnants of her fiancé. Pushing your own terror aside, you rush for the Princess, wrapping an arm around her waist to pull her out of harm's way.

"Come with me." You direct her. "It'll be alright, Ric will get you out and safe." You call out for the older woman, guiding the princess toward the nearest exit. Ric promptly takes her from you, stumbling back a step as she fleetingly takes in the gruesome scene.

"Fucking hell." She gasps, steering the Princess out of your grasp.

"It was Kevin, not the Princess."

"You don't say." She sarcastically intones, swiftly guiding the Princess out the door. As much as you want to follow them, you - perhaps idiotically - can't bring yourself to leave Johanna behind.

"Tell me your name!" Johanna demands, Holding a crucifix up to the Demon as it towers over her. The Demon merely laughs, lurching forward and striking Johanna with the back of its massive fist. The impact sends her flying across the room, her back slamming into the mural. She groans as her body drags down the wall and hits the floor, but quickly regains her senses. She rolls over, pushing past the pain to search for her book through blurred vision. Without hesitation, you crack open your copy, hell-bent on finishing what you and Johanna had started, shaking hands making the small text difficult to read.

"Vīsitā, quaesumus," Enraged, the Demon whirls, its long, hoofed legs carrying it in three mere strides across the room. Your knees buckle as it launches toward you. "Domine, habitātiōnem istam et omnis-”

“Silence!” It snarls at you, surging forward with its giant arm raised like a club, ready to strike again. You shield your head with your arms and squeeze your eyes shut, bracing for the impact that never comes.

“Agilieth!” You risk a peak, eyes cracking open to find the Demon’s arm halted just before the top of your head. A wicked, sharp-toothed grin splits across its face as it turns to address its caller - the Sandman. He stands in front of the altar and Johanna, hands casually tucked into his coat, undaunted by the sheer size and strength of the Demon.

"Lord Morpheus," It growls. "You're almost unrecognizable without your helm." It mocks, tone dripping with disdain.

"It was traded to a Demon."

"Yes, but which demon?" Its grin stretches as the Sandman's eyes gleam with hope. In your peripheral vision, you catch Johanna pulling herself upright against the altar. Rītuale Rōmānum back in hand, she cracks open the book, resuming her recitation of the Latin prayer and interrupting whatever business the Sandman seeks with the Demon. Her face is that of the cat that caught the canary. Knowing the Demon's name, she holds the power to condemn it straight back to Hell.

“Constantine, stop this at once!" The Sandman shouts as the ground below Agilieth twists into an open pit of bright-orange fire and smoke. With eyes even more desperate than the night of his escape, he stretches his arm toward Johanna, begging her to stop. Why would he have her free the Demon? What could be worth the risk?

“Dream of the Endless commands you!” Agilieth roars, cursing at her as she ignores their pleas. Tendrils of smoke form into hands that scrape and pull at the Demon's mountainous figure, hauling it inch-by-inch into the pit. “I’ll tell you everything I know, my lord!" Its claws leave tracks on the ground as it sinks deeper, only its head remaining above ground level. "Don't let her send me back!” Ash and embers whirl through the hot air, stinging your cheeks. You hold your breath as Johanna fearlessly stands over the Demon, the reflection of hellfire flaring in her eyes.

“Exī, ergō, Agilieth!” With her final words, the Demon slips into the pit, and the ground seals over. The silence deafens you as you watch the Sandman’s shoulders slump, his face turned solemn, staring at the claw marks left across the wooden flooring.

"You have no idea what you’ve cost me." He speaks softly - defeatedly, and the words are a boulder of guilt crashing into you. You did the right thing. Didn’t you? You couldn’t have let the Demon roam free, free to find its next victim, free to create a larger mess than any mortal could be capable of cleaning up.

"I'm sorry," You stutter, apologizing nonetheless. "I thought-"

"Don't apologize, mate," Johanna winks at you, entirely satisfied with herself as she snaps the book closed and tosses an arm around your shoulders. "We've just tripled our fee." You're reluctant to follow as she guides you out of the church, your eyes still locked with the Sandman’s, but her grip is firm and commanding.

Thunder rumbles above as you step outside, Johanna pausing in the doorway of the church to converse with Ric, likely discussing payment. You step aside to grant them some privacy, leaning against one of the giant stone columns that uphold the awning, and watch as the lightning within the clouds reveals various shades of lavender and coal.

You’re lucky, you realize. Lucky to have come out unharmed. Johanna will be lucky if she isn’t as bruised as tonight’s sky tomorrow morning. You wonder how she could willingly subject herself to this on a regular basis. The money must be phenomenal, you think, hands still trembling from the commotion - the rush.

"Why are you here?" Your ears tingle at the pleasant depth of the Sandman’s voice, the whisper of pleasant chills rolling across the top of your skull and down your spine. He’s closer than expected, his shoulder brushing yours as he eases into the open space beside you. Icy, piercing blue eyes shimmer beneath the gloomy night lighting, studying - questioning.

"Why are you?" You counter, residual adrenaline governing your words. “Dream of the Endless.” A faint smirk curls the corner of his mouth at your boldness, but it doesn’t quite meet his eyes, and that guilt… it gnaws at the last remaining sliver of your confidence.

"Something of mine came into Constantine's possession." He divulges, watching you - reading you.

"What could she possibly have of yours?"

"I answered your question, you will answer mine." A give and take, so be it. You open your mouth to speak, but the words catch on the nervous knot forming in your throat. Your feet shift in place, crunching against the cobblestone as you attempt to clear it away.

“After everything that happened with Mr. Burgess,” You swallow. “I wondered where you went, what you’d done to him,” His eyes implore you to continue, but you can’t seem to produce another coherent thought under their intensity. So you avert yours, once again finding the colors in the flashing clouds.

“I-” You take a deep breath, rubbing your arms to settle the goosebumps. “I guess I just wanted to make sure you were ok.” You admit, embarrassment tingeing your cheeks. You know how silly it sounds given the danger involved in pursuing him, but you had questions that needed answers, and - much like your former classmate - you’ve always been relentless in your quest for knowledge.

When you find the courage to meet his unwavering gaze, you find him scanning your features. Your reddened cheeks, the tense pull of your brow, your lips as you nip uneasily at the chapped skin. For a moment, he seems as though he may apologize, his small smirk and studious stare softening into concern. But, you’d made your choice. He’s no need to apologize when seeing him outside the glass - free - is enough to resolve any lingering guilt over what happened to Alex and Paul - to you.

“My sand.” He answers your earlier question.

“The Sandman without his sand.” You find yourself giggling, hardly noticing how close he’d stepped until you could feel the comforting heat radiating from his body, shielding you from the harsh wind like a fluffed blanket, pulled fresh from the dryer. It’s dizzying - distracting.

"Morpheus." He corrects.

"Hm?" You hum, mouth disconnected from your mind as it scrambles to process what he’d said and the sudden, intoxicating warmth. He’d been so cold when you’d first met, when you’d pulled him from the glass, when he’d held and guarded you against the nightmare smoke.

"My name."

"Hate to interrupt your little chat,” Johanna begins, approaching the two of you. She shoots a cagey glance toward Morpheus before opting to ignore his presence entirely, aiming her words at you. “But it’s about time I bugger off.” Her fingertips tap the back of your arm gently. “I’ll be in touch.” Her eyes speak without words, questioning your safety - your comfortability - with the Sandman’s proximity. You offer a small nod, simultaneously confirming your security and acknowledging what she’d said.

"Constantine." Her name rumbles from his chest as she moves to scurry away, more of a demand than a request. She begrudgingly turns, hands smacking against her sides as she confronts him.

“What do you want with me?” She sneers, arms crossing over her ribs. “I don’t have time for this.”

"You have something of mine.” His expression hardens. “I'd like it returned."

“What could I possibly have of yours?"

“His sand.” You chime, watching in amusement as two of the most strong-willed individuals you’ve ever come across continue their stare-down, wondering who will be the first to concede. You’d never known Johanna to back down for anyone, and Morpheus, well, you’d witnessed his endurance firsthand.

"That was yours?” Her brows raise. “Couldn't even get the damned drawstrings open." Her tongue pokes at the inside of her cheek as she ruminates on where she left the sand. “I've no idea where it's at. It's been missing for ages." She concludes.

"We must find it." He asserts, towering over the woman as he emphasizes its importance. "Without it, my realm - humanity - will cease to exist." She rolls her eyes, considering his words far too dramatic for the circumstance.

"Alright,” She tilts her head to look up at him, a playful smirk sliding up her cheeks as she realizes how vital her compliance is. “I'll help you find it first thing tomorrow-"

"No-"

"Tomorrow." She reiterates firmly. "I'll help you. Trust me, I wouldn't want you and your little friend following me all over the place." You and Morpheus share a look of confusion, focusing your attention in the direction Johanna points. A raven, perched on the edge of the base of another nearby column squirms under each of your stares.

"My friend?" He squints at the bird, stepping closer to investigate. Its eyes quickly shift over Morpheus before scooting aside a few inches to gain some space, head twitching side to side, up and down. Morpheus raises his chin, shoulders squaring as he looks down his nose at the raven. “Tell me your name.” He orders.

"Matthew, Sir." This night is full of surprises, you think, delighted by the nasally voice that comes from the talking bird. Morpheus, however, appears rather indifferent - displeased, even.

"Matthew,” He scowls. “Tell Lucienne that I have no need for a raven-" You turn, ready to share your bewilderment with Johanna, searching your surroundings for a glimpse of her dark hair, only to find that she’s disappeared into the night.

"Morpheus." You call. He ignores you - or maybe doesn’t hear you - as he continues lecturing the raven.

"If I require assistance, I shall ask-"

"Uh, y-you do, actually, Sir." Matthew stutters, catching on to your distress and Johanna’s absence.

“Morpheus!” You shout. Tired and frustrated by his blatant disregard, you tug harshly on the sleeve of his coat. His head whips toward you, initial fury at your action quieting as he notices the absence of your friend - his only chance at reclaiming his sand.

"She's gone." You sigh. He draws his gaze from over your shoulder, down to your fingers, still curled around the soft fabric of his coat, and back to your eyes. You release him immediately, mumbling a curt apology.

“Go back to the dreaming, Matthew." Morpheus dismisses.

“With all due respect, sir. The boss lady sent me here to help you because, like it or not, you need me.” Matthew declares, hopping closer to Morpheus. “Less than twenty-four hours ago, I had thumbs, lived my whole life here. I know how to navigate this world.”

"My last raven was sent to help me too." Morpheus’ cold gaze has the bird’s feet shuffling again, his tone low - warning, rumbling in tune with the rolling thunder.

"Yeah, and what happened to them?” Matthew sasses. “You fire them too? Send them back to the dreaming?" You’re amazed - jealous, even - by Matthew’s confidence as he stands up for himself.

"She died while trying to save me." You wince as images of the white-bellied raven from your nightmare flicker in your mind's eye. The splattered blood across her bright feathers, her desperate caws as she beat herself against the glass. You doubt you’ll ever be able to rid yourself of the haunting memory.

"What was her name?" You dare to ask.

"Jessamy." As he meets your pitying gaze, he quickly blinks away the tears that threaten to form, steeling his expression, pretending the memory no longer carries any weight in his heart.

"I'm sorry for your loss, Morpheus." You feel awful, awful for describing even the smallest crumb of your nightmare to him when you first met. You want to apologize for that too but decide against it, not wanting to push the subject any further.

“Well,” Matthew continues after a moment of respectful silence. “I don’t plan on dying again anytime soon. We'd better get moving if we want to find her by morning. We should have a good eight hours while she sleeps. If we put our heads together, I’m sure we can figure out her-”

"Sleep," Morpheus murmurs to himself. "Yes. If she is asleep, I know exactly where to find her." He extends a hand for you to take, and you do so without a second thought, allowing him to pull you into his chest the same way he had the night you’d freed him. His hands skim the small of your back as they circle around your waist, his head dipping beside your ear, voice just above a whisper as he instructs, “Close your eyes.”

You comply, digging your fingers into the side seams of his coat as a vortex of wind envelopes your bodies. Your feet lift and float away from solid ground, the vortex pushing and pulling your limbs in every direction. You hang onto Morpheus as though your life depends on it, daring to open your eyes just long enough to catch a glimpse of the black smoke that carries you. Your skin blanches with fear, mind sucked back into that bone-chilling darkness, the nightmare void that had nearly swallowed you whole.

You’re left breathless and wobbly as the smoke clears, continuing to cling to Morpheus’s coat with a death grip. Your mouth opens and shuts, words refusing to flow freely. His hands slide from your back to cup your upper arms, squeezing reassurance and holding you steady as you struggle to pull yourself together. You know the fear is irrational, know that he - as proven before - would not allow the smoke to harm you, but the sensation of the nightmare refuses to leave you in peace.

"Breathe.” He reminds, thumbs rubbing soothing circles into your shoulders as he tilts his head down to draw your frightened eyes back to his. “You are unharmed." You savor the touch, your heartbeat gradually slowing to match the pace of the soothing strokes.

"What was that?"

"A method of travel without my sand."

"Well, it was awful." He retracts his hands, almost as though the words had offended him, fingertips skimming down the length of your arms as they fall back at his sides.

"Then you will not experience it again." He promises.

"Wait-"

"The pouch is here.” He confirms to himself, surveying the apartment building he’d brought you to with assurance. “You will remain outside with Matthew." As if on cue, the raven swoops down beside you. His feathers ruffle and twitch as he settles on the ground, beady eyes darting between you and Morpheus.

"How do you know? Didn't Johanna say she lost it?" You watch as he glides toward the building, as though being lured by some invisible pull.

"I can feel its power." Morpheus steps inside the ominously dark building, leaving you alone with Matthew.

After a while, you find yourself enjoying the raven’s dry, witty humor, chatting to pass the time. But as what should have been no more than a few minutes becomes well over an hour, your playful banter begins to slow, both of your eyes anxiously tracing and examining the apartment complex.

Strange, you think. Something about the building rings every alarm bell within you. Though the hour has hardly passed midnight, not a single light shines from the building. Not from the lobby, the porch lights, or any of the visible windows. As you observe the building, you notice the piles of untouched mail littering the main entrance, moving to pick up a few of the grimy envelopes.

"Matthew,” You begin, scanning over the unpaid electricity bills, violation notices, and letters dated as far back as three months ago. “Something's not right."

He titters over, talons faintly clicking across the concrete, and you squat beside him, holding your findings out for him to see. He tilts his head, eyes darting over the envelopes in your hand and all across the floor. After a moment of careful consideration, he opens his beak to say, "I think we should let the boss handle it." You scoff, tossing the mail aside as you stand.

“What happened to that confidence from earlier? I thought you weren’t afraid to help him.” You shoot for the doors, hands clamping over the sleek, modern handles. Matthew’s caw startles you, winds flapping as he lands on top of your hands.

“That-That’s not a good idea.” He warns, stalling your movement. “You have no idea what’s in there. The boss said-”

“Your boss, Matthew. Not mine.” You remind, and his feet squeeze around your skin. “If you won’t go in there and help him, I will.” He kicks off your hands, talons scraping the concrete as he lands back on the ground, mumbling under his breath, “He’s not gonna like this.”

You tug open the heavy door, streetlights instantly absorbing into the black hole of the lobby, revealing nothing to your squinted eyes as you cross over the threshold. The door clicks closed behind you, leaving you vulnerable in the dark. There’s a sickly-sweet stench lashing at your nose, rolling in your gut. As much as you’d rather not find out what the smell belongs to, your fear of the dark drives your shaky hands into your pockets, reaching for your phone.

The contents of your stomach turn to lead as the flashlight winks to life, illuminating the half-decayed corpse of a woman not two feet in front of you. You stumble back, feet squelching and sticking to the floor as acid rises in your throat. Her flesh droops and pools beneath her, melting and mixing with other various fluids into the tiled floor. Hollow cheeks and cloud-white eyes stare up at you. The foul scent strengthens, and suddenly you’re retching up the contents of your stomach, mindful enough to avoid her body. You wipe your mouth with the sleeve of your coat, willing yourself to face the woman again. How long has she been left here, fusing with the floor?

“What the fuck happened here?” You breathe feebly, stepping around her. You notice - as you avoid inching too close - the faint twitch of her left eye. “I’m going insane.” But the nearly inaudible gurgles emitting from her throat confirm you’re not. Alive. She’s still alive. How?

Unable to face her any longer, you shine your light further into the room, revealing a messy trail of gooey footsteps. You follow them, vicious chills spidering down your spine with each step as they lead you up the staircase and down the eerily silent second-story hallway. Some primal instinct inside you screams for you to turn around. You know you should, know that you’d be safer waiting outside with Matthew. But what if Morpheus needs your help? What if he’s been captured again? What if?

At the end of the long, looming hallway, yellow light flickers beneath a chipped, word-down door. You head for it, ignoring the sticky substance coating the silver knob as you turn it.

Much like the rest of the building, the room is pitch-black as the door creaks open, no sign of the light you’d spotted. Maybe you’d imagined it. The same way you’d like to believe you’re imagining the slithering, shifting shadows that lurk along the walls and ceiling. Maybe the shock of everything you’ve experienced tonight is finally catching up to you. The flashlight of your phone fizzles out, a red battery symbol mocking you as you frantically shake the device.

“Just my fucking luck.” You hiss, reaching for the switch on the wall, shuddering at the cold, moist goo that coats your fingers as you flick it upward.

To your surprise, the room brightens, dimly illuminating the crumb-coated carpet and various discarded dolls strewn about. You carefully step around them, hesitantly following the muffled sound of cartoons playing to your left, the living room - your living room. You lean over the familiar grey couch, mutely stunned, sight caught on the mess of tangled hair poking above it. A little girl, no older than five or six, sways from side to side as she sits on her heels, inches away from the TV screen. Sweet, high-pitched giggles tumble from her belly as she remains unaware of your presence, sucked into her show. Though you cannot see her face, you know - feel - that she is you.

A woman’s voice grates through the laughter, calling your name. Your mother, you realize. Something in your chest tightens with pain as the little girl - little you - doesn’t seem to hear her. Another call of your name, followed by thunderous footsteps. Your sore stomach clenches, heart pausing a beat as you watch your mother’s figure overshadows the young girl. She watches a moment, waiting for little you to notice her in the doorway. When she doesn’t, like a bat from hell, your mother flies into a rage. She snatches little you upright by the collar of her oversized nightshirt, teeth bared as she barks at the child, “You will answer me when I call your name!”

“I-I didn’t hear you! I swear!” Little you stammers, eyes swelling with stinging tears.

“Of course not! You’re selfish!” Your mother yells, spit stringing between her teeth, the strong smell of alcohol wafting off her hot breath. “You think you can just ignore me whenever you want?!” You close your eyes, body jerking at the sharp smack reverberating in your ears. Your muscles tense, becoming rigid as you listen to the gut-wrenching sobs coming from your younger self.

“I’ll give you something to cry about!” You weren’t selfish or ignorant. You were just a child, completely wrapped up in your favorite escape from this - the abuse.

Your body relaxes as you hear your mother stomp away from the room, allowing you to open your eyes, to see your younger self. She stands before you, her face cupped inside her palms as she sobs with such soundless intensity that her breath remains stuck in her chest. You round the couch, dropping to your knees before her, your own tears falling as you embrace her. One hand strokes her hair as the other soothingly rubs her back, offering the comfort you wish you’d received.

“Shhh.” You try to calm her. “It’ll be okay. You’re not alone.” You coo. The pressure in her lungs releases, and she gasps for air, bawling against your shoulder as her small fists curl into your sleeves.

“I-I didn’t mean to- to-”

“Shhh…I know. I know.” You hug her firmly, providing as much support as you possibly can. Eventually, as her sobs dwindle into light sniffles, her arms circle around you as best as they can, returning the affection. You rock her gently, swaying from side to side as she had been earlier, humming that special lullaby you’ve always loved.

Preoccupied with comforting little you - healing that broken shard of your past, you’re inattentive to the preternatural strength of her hold. You rock the child, even as her arms constrict, a boa around a mouse. Your shoulders strain, joints aching under the increasing pressure, threatening to pop from their sockets. As the air begins to thin, you wriggle and writhe against her, leaning back to see her face - its face.

Sickly green and filled with malice, its mouth - where her cheek once was - opens into a blood-curdling, razor-toothed grin as it says, “We’re ssso hungry.” Its voice is at once one and many, splintering into that of a hundred - a thousand - sneering, distorted children.

Through your bleary eyes, the facade of your childhood apartment fades away, leaving you in a slime-coated, moldy, abandoned apartment. Choked whimpers bubble from your throat as you watch its face continue to shift, features slipping and sliding across slimy skin. How could you have been so blind, so easily betrayed by your senses?

"Feed usss." Comes another sinister voice from behind, just above your left shoulder. "Itsss been ssso long." Now above your right as the creature’s nails dig into your skin, warm liquid - blood - dripping down your arms. You hardly register the pain as you watch its eyes roll back into its mutating skull, replaced with glowing, yellow orbs. Its flesh becomes a viscous, gelatinous substance, seeping into your clothes.

Your mind empties of all words except one name, “M-Morpheus!” You rasp, the plea scarcely audible through the many, ravenous voices mimicking and mocking around you. I’m going to die, you think. Your face, heated from the rushing blood and lack of oxygen, twists with dread as you’re suffocated by the creature.

“We’ll devour you whole!” It growls the words as it opens its cavernous mouth, lining you up to ease you down its slick, greasy throat. You thrash in its grasp, hysterical sobs tearing the inside of your throat.

"Enough!" The creature retracts at the bellowed command, a hand gripping and pulling you up by the back of your neck. Morpheus, you realize, brings you to your feet, shielding your quaking form behind his. His arm lingers protectively across your front, his hand gripping your opposite hip, steadying and reminding you that you are safe now.

"Massster?!" The voices shriek. As you take in the full expanse of the room, you see the many glinting, beady, yellow eyes all along the walls. The creatures cower into their shadows at the sight of Morpheus. You think you might do the same until you feel the gentle, reassuring squeeze of his hand, the only thing holding you upright.

"We thought you left forever." The monsters chorus, echoing the word over and over.

"You have taken advantage of my absence,” Morpheus says - almost snarls, tone dripping with revulsion. “It ends now."

With the wave of his free hand, the creatures shrivel, crumbling to dust on the floor until you’re left in the now vacant, dusty room. Johanna leans against the wall a few feet away, looking almost as shaken as you, teeth gritted, fists clenched and trembling at her sides.

"You disobeyed me." Your eyes flick up to meet his stormy gaze, blood still pumping loudly in your ears as you throw a weak glare his way.

“You-” You’re still out of breath, each word a strain to your aching ribs. “You were in-” Your head shakes. “You were in here a while. What-” You force down a deep breath. “What was I supposed to do?”

"Wait. As you were told." You gawk at him incredulously, taking the time to catch your breath. ‘Wait as you were told.’ You’d strangle him if he hadn’t just saved you. You’re not a helpless child. Were you not the one saving his ass no less than three weeks ago, freeing him from nearly a hundred years of captivity? Could he truly fault you for trying to help him again?

“I was trying to help you.” Your voice is hoarse, throat sore as you attempt to defend your actions. “I thought you were in danger.”

"I do not need saving from a mortal."

Despite the ache, you square your throbbing shoulders, head held high as you quip back, “You did less than a month ago.”

His mouth folds into a firm line as he breaks your stare-off, sharp profile lit by the moonlight now peaking through the window, eyes darkening into ink-black, cosmic pools.

"Right, can we save the bickering for later?” Johanna intervenes, slicing through the tension. “I'd like to get the hell out of here."

Rain pours around the stone awning of the building as you limp behind Morpheus and Johanna, nearly drowning out the sound of Matthew’s relieved caws. He swoops up to mount your shoulder chastising, “I told you not to go in there!” His talons dig into your skin for balance as you whip your head to scowl at him. Skittish, he jumps away, hopping after Morpheus. “Boss, I-”

Morpheus gives him a stern look, silencing the raven. His lips purse, brows knitting as he pulls a dark, leather pouch - no larger than the size of his palm - from his coat pocket. The sand. Golden beads glimmer along the strings as he tugs open the pouch, tilting it into his open hand.

He got what he came here for, and now he’ll leave. He’ll leave you and Johanna behind after all that happened inside that wretched apartment complex, the waking nightmare you’d faced to save him.

“Morpheus!” You snap, watching in disbelief as grains of sand slip through the gaps of his slender fingers, spinning into a sandstorm around him. He pauses, eyes flicking toward you.

“Where are you going?!”

“Hell. In search of my helm.”

In a blink, he’s encased in a swirling tornado of sand, and then…he’s gone. Matthew spirits away in your peripheral vision, a brief fluttering shadow and flap of wings as he follows after his master. You loose a frustrated breath and lean on the opposite wall from Johanna. Whether or not she’s still as shaken as she appeared - as you are - you’ll never know, her face now a mask of perfect calmness. You look to her for any semblance of validation for your discontentment, but she merely shrugs her shoulders.

“I’ll say this once,” She starts. “Only because I consider you a friend.” Her words are steady, not an ounce of residual fear behind them as she warns, “Don’t go after him again. It’ll only get you killed.”

#the sandman x reader #the sandman fanfic #the sandman netflix #the sandman comics #morpheus x reader #dream of the endless x reader #johanna constantine #matthew the raven #slow burn #eventual romance #eventual smut #angst #gallows of the dreaming #nocturneindream #nocturneindreams

96 notes · View notes