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kingbonercar · 2 years

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Bring Me a Dream- Morpheus X Reader

A/N: I wrote this in the middle of the night, so I hope it’s not absolute drivel. Also I didn’t proofread it so… hey! Idk what’s gonna happen! Also it’s very long bc I just WENT FOR IT! I hope you all enjoy!

Word count: 2k

Warnings: mentions of death

Major fluff alert! Slow burn for a oneshot!

Paring: Morpheus x Gender Neutral Reader

Summary: y/n is Alex Burgess’s adult Grandchild coming to visit, but they uncover the “family secret” in the basement, and they vow to release the man trapped for so many centuries.

Nature was outstretching its urgent arms and beckoning me to frolic within its verdant forests and fields. The greenery was speckled with buds of a multitude of pastel colors. I lost myself in this world of sweet-smelling daffodils and buttery rays of sunshine-

“Hey! Uh, you’re here!” The gruff cockney voice of my cab driver jolted me out of my trancelike slumber.

“Oh! Yes! Thank you!” I swallowed, shakily thumbing through my wallet to retrieve my credit card to reimburse the driver.

With a tight-lipped smile, I lugged my suitcase from the trunk with an ungraceful thud, and slammed the banana-yellow lid of it a tad too aggressively. I was still halfway prancing in the dream world like a daft idiot.

As I ambled down the cobblestone walkway of my grandfathers’ estate, I thought to myself, what a lovely dream. I lingered on this moment, as I had been pervasively afraid of the “sleepy sickness” which had affected my mother before her death just three years ago. It seemed as if no one dreamed anymore. I rapped on the door eagerly, for it had been years since I had seen my grandfathers, I had been but a mere child. The heavy door swung open to reveal the grinning face of Alex Burgess, my favorite relative.

“Oh how you’ve grown!” He cooed, beckoning me inside.

“I have a room for you upstairs, but drop your bags anywhere, we need to catch up!”

The man struggled to arise from his wheelchair, but after a few grunts, he stood tall, smiling with open arms.

“Grandpa!” I scolded, “you didn’t need to stand up!”

I embraced him, giggling through my chides.

“Ah but I did! You know that’s my favorite trick to play on people? I’ll be in my chair, looking as if I’m on Death's door, then BAM! I’ll stand up, and not only that, but I’ll rant about how some miracle has cured me! Gets ‘em every time!” Alex sung, clearly proud of his pranking achievements.

“I missed this. God, ever since mom passed away it’s like I was farther away from you. She was like an extension of you, despite being adopted, she really did reflect everything about you.” I sighed. “But I’m happy I’m here now.” I patted him on the shoulder, prompting my grandfather to settle down into his wheelchair.

“Now let me show you to your room.” He uttered.

“I believe it is time for you to learn our family secret. Venture to the basement if you wish to know. But be warned, you must keep this firmly under wraps. We cannot risk knowledge of this being getting out.

Yours,

Grandpa Alex”

A note on yellowed parchment read. I had discovered the letter on my bedside table, waiting to be discovered. I looked upon it with a perplexed demeanor.

“Well, if this is some elaborate plot to kidnap me, it’s better than paying rent in my New York apartment.” I thought.

I descended a myriad of stairs, enough to make my calves groan.

I reached a sinister looking gate barring a larger room from access. Two guards stood beside it, unyielding. I brandished my letter with a shrug.

“Uh, I was told to come down here.” I squeaked.

The individuals nodded at one another, then punched in an unseen code to a pin pad which triggered the barred doors to swing open. I cautiously stepped in. The room was a sweeping expanse of grey, dimly lit walls. If only that were the only thing within. In the center of the area, a giant glass ball was perched in the center of some strange gold circle drawn onto the concrete below. Within the sphere was a man. This person’s skin was as white as an early winter snow, and his hair was obsidian black, so black that it could devour worlds in its endless void of color. The imprisoned man was also lacking clad, he crossed his legs to preserve a shred of dignity for himself, even in this state. I was taken aback at this sight. Why would my family be harboring a human being in their basement, along with keeping this poor soul in the confines of a glass globe, with no clothing or even a blanket? A swarm of emotions floated around my head as I approached the person. I stopped my stride as I reached a safe distance from the metallic circle on the floor, thinking it to be some sort of protective spell, although I couldn’t place it. For even I, someone who dabbles in witchcraft, it was foreign to me. The pale man lifted his chin slowly to meet my gaze with his icy eyes. They narrowed, his face awash with untrusting hatred.

I stepped away, a stirring in my soul told me to avert my prying eyes. I tore my gaze from the floor to look at him again, budding tears clouding my vision.

“God, I can’t believe they did this to you.” I whispered, bringing a hand up to touch the glass empathetically.

His gaze was unfaltering.

“Um, what is your name?” I inquired gently.

His lips remained sealed.

“I-I’m going to have a word with my grandfather about this.” I stated, turning on my heel.

“So just because he hasn’t promised not to harm you, you haven’t let him out? That’s IT?” I cried after Alex had enlightened me on the story of why the man was in the basement.

“Well, yes! Can’t you understand?” He hollered hopelessly.

“Are you sure he can even hear you in that thing?”

“Of course I’m sure! He’s a stubborn bastard!”

“If I weren’t your house guest I would break that fucking glass on my own.”

“But you are my house guest, and he’s a dangerous entity, Y/N.” My grandfather's hands met his head.

“Well at least you could show him some decency. He is the lord of dreams for fucks sake.” I spat as I turned towards the basement door. “And just so it’s clear, the reason your daughter died was because of you keeping him imprisoned. Without that, we wouldn’t have any of the sleepy-sickness bullshit. So just know that.” Words dripped like venom off of my mouth.

The man looked astounded, tears began to form in his eyes as despair clouded his face. He sunk into his wheelchair and wept.

I had been attempting to get the Lord of Dreams to converse for five hours, and I was constantly unsuccessful.

The being had shifted his position so he was laying, his eyes peeking out from behind his forearm. I sat down on the cold concrete, defeated.

“I know your name now, Alex told me. But I guess I am a sucker for proper introductions.” I sighed. I fished a minuscule sketch book and a graphite pencil out of my jacket pocket and began to craft a picture of The Sandman, in all of his foreboding glory. I found his strange muscle patterns endlessly fascinating. My pencil scratched paper for an undetermined amount of time, resulting in a gorgeous piece of Dream himself. I slowly pressed the page to the glass, he gazed upon it with curiosity. He lifted his hand to meet the wall of his entrapment, almost as if to reach for the drawing. His lips parted for mere seconds, just before he slumped into the deflated position that he has been roosting in for hours. I retreated as slumber beckoned me with balmy promises. I scooted to rest against the unyielding wall, eager to submit to the realm of sleep, not caring what consequences were in store for me. My eyelids felt as if they had contracted weights, and my vision blurred as my eyes closed, immediately introducing me to a world so vibrant that it had to be the one of dreams. I stood in the field, the same one in which I had visited in my nap in the taxi. I spun, my unclad feet meshing with the fertile soil below them. I allowed a laugh to escape my lips as I tumbled onto the soft ground. I gazed at the fluffy dandelions perched atop hairy stalks, and the razor-sharp blades of grass concealing the miniature insects within. Although my wonderment was tampered by two combat-boot-adorned feet trampling on the greenery. My eyes shot up accusatorily to view none other than The Lord of Dreams. I regained my bearings and shot to my feet, standing a few inches shorter than he. The being was now wearing clothes, pervasively black ones at that.

“Hi.” I uttered breathlessly.

His presence was strong, overwhelming. I suppose it’s not surprising when one is met with a God.

“Hello. You never told me your name.” He spoke, his voice was rich like oceans of time and caves dripping with jewels. He held universes on his tongue when he crafted his words so calmly.

“My-my name? Oh, well, I’m Y/N. It’s more than a pleasure to finally meet you properly.” I extended my hand, feeling awkward and shaky.

“Y/N,” he let the syllables roll off his silver tongue. “I like that name. I’m Morphius, but you probably were told my name was Dream. Which I suppose is true to some extent.” He obliged to my offer of a handshake. His fingers were freezing, his touch was fleeting.

“Morpheus, that’s a beautiful name. What would you rather I call you?” Speaking his name ignited a flame in my soul.

“You may call me whatever you like, Y/N.” He stated, a small smile gracing his lips.

“Ah, yes. Thank you, Lord Morpheus.” I bowed shallowly, not sure what to do at that particular moment.

“No need for such formalities. I am only here to speak to you.” Morpheus tutted.

“I’m sorry. What are you wanting to speak about?” I swiftly corrected my position.

“I wanted to tell you that I haven’t beheld such bewitching beauty in a thousand years. I have been confined so wretchedly, alone, for so long. And you are the only hope I have ever seen.” The wiry man grew closer to me as he gently took my hand and planted a tender kiss to the top of it.

I was on the verge of fainting, despite being in a dream.

“I see I have made you uncomfortable. Many apologies, dear Y/N. I shall go now.” He turned with sad eyes away from me.

“Morpheus, wait!” I tapped his shoulder urgently.

He turned to meet my gaze. Those eyes held a million words. “Wait. I have never encountered a being who harbors such complex emotion, such confusing luster. But why would The Lord of the Dreamworld want a mere mortal like me?”

“Do not diminish yourself to such titles. You have touched me, Y/N, with your compassion and kindness. I used to think that every human was like Roderick Burgess, but I was wrong. You are different.” His white hands snaked up my forearms and ascended to my shoulders.

“Kiss me. Please.” I knew what I was asking of the Dream Lord and I didn’t care. Lust pervaded me completely. He bored into my eyes as he leaned in, our noses brushing, his arm coiling around my waist, and my fingers playing with his spiky hair. Our lips were almost brushing….

“DON’T FALL ASLEEP IN HIS PRESENCE!” My grandfather awoke me by shaking my shoulders urgently.

“Gah! What?” I spluttered, dazed.

“God it’s all my fault! He’s probably gotten to you now! I forgot to tell you- it’s all my FAULT!” He wailed.

I turned my attention to Morpheus in his cell. He watched, he raised an eyebrow mischievously.

“You know what? Maybe he has gotten to me. And I don’t care if it was all a ploy to get me to release him- but you can’t keep someone caged like this! It’s not right!” I screamed as I leapt towards the circle, scratching out a chunk of it with my heel.

The atmosphere in the dim basement room shifted. The air grew colder and malicious. All I remember is the force of my back hitting the wall. Then, it was silent.

My ears rang nonstop, tears leaked from my eyes uncontrollably. I opened my moistened lids to see a ceiling foreign to any that were in the house. I sat up, confused and disoriented.

“Everything is safe now. Calm yourself.” A sultry and familiar voice droned.

My view came to meet Dream, sitting on a bed adjacent to mine. I noted that we were in what appeared to be a hotel room.

“What… what happened?” I inquired groggily.

“Don’t worry about that. What matters is that we are both out of harm's way.”

“Okay.” I said plainly, not satisfied with his answer. “Um, in the dream, was that… real? Or was that just a plot so I could help you escape?” I bit my lip.

“I suppose it was both.” He arose and made his way over to me. He took my hands and knelt in between my legs. “Everything I said was true.” He uttered. His tone was enough to make me melt. “Ah nervous, are we?”

“Wherever would you get that idea?” I chuckled.

He slowly ascended from his kneeling position to stand in between my legs. His movements were leisurely and deliberate. He tilted my chin up with his thin finger.

“Now, let’s finish where we left off, yes?” He breathed, connecting his lips with mine.

He tasted like starlight and fresh mint. He felt like adoration incarnate, and he was mine; I was his.

#morpheus #morpheus x reader #the sandman x reader #the sandman #Netflix #Netflix the sandman #neil gaiman #Dream x reader #tom sturridge #oneshot #Morpheus oneshot #one shot #fanfic #x reader #x gender neutral reader #Morpheus x gender neutral reader

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writethrough · 1 year

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Hello!! Could I request a Morpheus/powered reader? Powered like witch, elemental magick, whatever floats your boat! Action with fluff and camaraderie? Romantic or platonic is up to you! I love your fics!!

To Dream of Magic

(Morpheus x Female Reader)

Warnings: Minor injuries, mention of death, Matthew gets a little love interest

Word Count: 2377

A/N: Okay, so I love anything that has to do with witches, so the fact that you requested this was like the best cup of tea! I actually had this idea for a bit, and then you submitted this so it gave me the motivation to finish it!

I consider this a part one. But in the sense that if someone wants more Witch!Reader, this will be the character they get. I'm really excited to dive into this world/relationship. And once my requests are open again, I'd be happy to hear any ideas anyone has.

The residents of Thelma’s Grove were an eclectic bunch. A small community tucked just outside the city—modest homes perched along the street that led back to the highway. It was the type of place you didn’t know was there until you were in it.

That suited the residents fine. The hustle of the city and its traffic and crowds was what led everyone to Thelma’s Grove. It provided serenity, privacy, and above all, secrecy.

They were an eclectic lot indeed—beekeepers, a preschool teacher, a few single parents, and their children. But the woman who lived in the little white house with the sage-colored door was the most secretive.

You were kind—incredibly so—a wonderful neighbor. Everyone in Thelma’s Grove knew one another from where they were before to what they did, so when you arrived with your trunks, plants, and a lovebird, the street was abuzz.

They suspected something was different about you when you told one of your neighbors to take his dog to the vet. He had given you a funny look at first, but you made up an excuse, saying your friend's dog had similar symptoms. A day later, he was at your front door thanking you.

It grew from there. Your neighbors trusted your “instincts” more—that’s what they called them anyway. If someone had trouble with headaches, sleeping, anxiety—you name it—you’d give them a concoction of your making.

It wasn’t until the woman across the road broke her leg that the word “witch” attached itself to you.

You had thought you heard a scream. When the man who lived beside her looked up from his weeding, you knew it was real.

You rushed to her door, unlocking it with a flick of your wrist, and found her at the bottom of her stairs.

Her leg was bent at an odd angle as she lay on the floor, sobbing.

“It’s alright. I’m going to help you,” you said.

Searching around, you grabbed the hand towel hanging from the oven, folded it, and held it to her mouth.

“You need to bite down on this.”

She did as you said, too in pain to register what you were saying or doing.

You moved to her feet, kneeling above her.

“This will hurt, but you’ll be fine once I’m done.”

You didn’t hesitate as you grasped her behind her knee and ankle, straightening it. The scream she let out was muffled by the towel, but you didn’t let it phase you as you aligned her leg.

You muttered to yourself, a language lost in time. Beneath your fingers, the muscles and tissue reconnected. And your neighbor's cries slowly ebbed.

You shifted to sit and pulled the towel from her mouth.

“How does it feel now?” you asked, wiping the tears from her face.

She sniffled and looked at you with a mixture of wonder and confusion.

“Better,” she whispered, hoarse.

You gave her a small smile. “Good.”

You later found out the man had witnessed the whole thing. And between him and her, they had told the entire community what you did.

It all made sense after that. Your “instincts” were really magic. You knew the dog was sick because you spoke to her. Your concoctions were healing potions. And that little bird of yours was your familiar.

Yes, Thelma’s Grove was full of an eclectic bunch, indeed.

—

You were tending to your greenhouse in the backyard. It wasn’t much, no bigger than a shed, but it held life in every square inch. Planters lined the three walls with large terracotta pots on the floor below and other plants hanging from above.

You had finished watering the elderberry tree when Hope flew in.

“Come quickly! Someone needs you,” she said, zipping away when you started to follow.

The cries hit you before you saw who made them.

Hope landed beside a raven whose wing was unfurled and lay limp in the grass.

“It’s alright now. She will heal you,” Hope reassured.

You kneeled slowly, hands raised, so you didn’t startle the poor creature.

“Let me see,” you said, cupping the wing from underneath.

The bird yelped.

“I know,” you hushed. “I know.”

You rested your other hand over the wing, the lost language passing through your lips until the limb was healed.

The bird hiccupped but tentatively moved to test if the pain was gone.

When no zap occurred, the bird hopped closer and bowed its head.

“Thank you! Thank you!” he cried.

“There’s no need for that. I’m just happy you’re okay,” you said.

“I’m more than okay! You fixed my wing!”

You giggled. “What’s your name?”

“Matthew, my lady.” He bowed again.

You shook your head and told him your name and Hope’s. “No need for that. Why don’t you come in and rest?” You held out your finger, and he hopped on.

Hope flew in before you and perched on the back of a barstool as you set Matthew down on the counter.

“So, what exactly happened?” you asked.

He looked down as if embarrassed. “I was running an errand. And…may have gotten distracted.”

Your brow furrowed. “Distracted?”

Only when you caught his tiny eyes glancing at Hope did you understand.

You hummed. “Well, I guess it doesn’t matter. As long as you’re alright now.”

“I am!” He jumped at the subject change. “Never better.”

“Good.” You nodded. Then after considering what he said, you asked, “Who were you running an errand for?”

You knew most, if not all, of the witches in the area. You couldn’t remember any of them having a raven as a familiar. And even if one did, it wouldn’t explain the odd sensation this bird carried. Like…well, it reminded you of the lost language—ancient and powerful.

“The King of Dreams,” he said.

Your eyes narrowed in confusion. The King of Dreams? As in, not a witch?

Matthew shifted from foot to foot, getting the sense this was news to you.

“Are you…Are you not a goddess or something?” he asked.

You pulled back in surprise. “No. No, I’m definitely not.”

“Oh.” He dragged out, coming to a realization. “So, what are you?”

“A witch,” you said blankly, glancing at Hope, whose head was tilted. At least she was just as lost as you.

“Wait. Witches are real?” he asked.

“And apparently, so are gods,” you breathed, laughing in disbelief.

Yes, you were a witch. And yes, you thought of your gifts from the goddesses Hecate and Circe, but to have confirmation that the God of Dreams was real? It was almost too much.

You shook your head slightly to clear it.

“Morpheus is a little more than a god, per se,” Matthew said. “It’s…It’s kinda complicated. And thinking about it gives me a headache.”

You waved a hand. “We’ll save it for a rainy day then.”

—

Matthew had stayed a few more hours, asking questions about your powers and nearly preening when Hope wanted to know more about him.

You were exhausted by the time you crawled into bed. And sleep took you quickly.

The man before you wasn’t familiar. His porcelain complexion and onyx hair contrasted sharply but in an entirely transfixing way. He seemed larger than he was, possessing this energy that encompassed everything around him.

This feeling wasn’t new. You experienced it before…

The raven. Matthew.

This was Morpheus.

“You know me,” Morpheus spoke first, deep and honey-rich.

It was less a statement and more a question, making sure you knew who stood before you.

“Yes,” you said.

A breeze rustled the grass, and the distinct smell of citrus floated upward, but you couldn’t place where it came from. There were no orange trees here.

“It’s in the field,” he said. “I thought it would make you comfortable.”

You smiled at the images it conjured.

Hours upon hours of running through your grandmother’s orange grove. She was the one who first taught you about your heritage. Her skills had laid in plants. She knew everything there was to know. No one could brew a potion like her or heal an ailment quicker. You were happy she saw some talent in you.

“How is Matthew?” You looked back to him, coming out of your memories.

“As if nothing happened.” Morpheus had gotten closer. Or the stretch of green between you had shortened. You supposed it didn’t matter.

“Good,” you breathed, reaching to play with your pendant.

“I wanted to thank you for your aid,” he said.

You shook your head. “That’s not necessary. I’m just happy he’s alright.”

The corner of his mouth ticked up, but it was gone so fast you thought you imagined it.

“He’s spoken quite fondly of you.” He turned to the side, hands in his pockets, and you knew he wanted to walk with you. “And your familiar.”

“Hope,” you said, biting your lip at how Matthew had acted around the lovebird. “I think he has a little crush.”

“I think he’s fallen in love.”

You looked up, surprised at the slight tease in his tone. You never expected someone of his position to joke so readily. Then again, you hadn’t met anyone of his caliber before.

He led you to a pond with water so clear you could see the fish below. A dolphin-sized koi fish swam with half-fish half-cat creatures and so many others you weren’t sure how they all fit.

Morpheus sat on a bench, waiting for you to do the same.

“You are different from the witches I’ve encountered,” he said, regarding you with curiosity.

“How so?”

“You are kind.”

He said it as if it were foreign. Like he hadn’t seen kindness in eons. And, maybe, he’d seen so much that all of the bad had clouded the good.

You opened your mouth, unsure how to respond, then began slowly. “My grandmother used to tell me, ‘Do not put into the world what you do not wish back.’ She said it was the only lesson she wanted me to master.”

“Your grandmother was wise.”

“Yeah, she was.” You smiled softly, watching as willow trees dipped their leaves into the pond. “Is it always this peaceful?”

He stared ahead as if seeing something other than what was in front of him.

“It hadn’t been for some time,” he said. “All is well now.”

You hummed in thought. “‘The only thing that is eternal is hope.’ Another thing she used to say.”

“Is that the origin of your familiar’s name?” His eyes were soft, an endless galaxy on a warm summer’s night.

“She came to me the day my grandmother passed. I thought it was fitting.” You shrugged.

Everyone who had known your grandmother attended her celebration of life—family members, friends, patients—it made you cry harder knowing she was so loved.

You had walked away from the group for a moment to yourself—for a moment of grief and remembrance—when this beautiful little bird landed in your path.

She gazed at you with an intelligence unlike the animals you often healed, and you felt the connection bridge between you and her. And the name came to you when the last piece fell into place. Your utterance of “Hope” solidified your bond.

“My brother was with you that day.”

Your brow furrowed. “Your brother?”

“Destiny,” he said.

You let out a small laugh. “Yes, I suppose he was.”

Conversation flowed easily between you two. Though Morpheus didn’t say much, he was insightful and intelligent, and he listened with keen attention that made you almost shy. He controlled every speck of dirt and beam of light around you yet held an interest in you.

When you felt the tug of consciousness, you couldn’t believe how quickly time had passed. You could have sworn you only arrived in the Dreaming a few minutes ago. But you woke to the sunrays filtering through your curtains.

In the following days, you scoured every source you could think of for information on Morpheus. There were Greek myths, but your search grew more fruitful when you stumbled across an ancient tomb in one of your grandmother’s chests.

She taught you about destiny—how it influenced you and how you influenced it—so to see it written in her delicate scrawl wasn’t unusual. But when it changed to capital-D "Destiny," you shifted your tactics. It led you to the beginning.

Destiny, Death, Dream, Destruction, Desire, Despair, and Delirium.

Personifications of otherwise intangible consciousnesses—all more powerful than any god or goddess you could think of.

And you had unknowingly saved one of their emissaries.

You had spoken to one of them.

You felt the vastness of his power by simply looking at him—it both terrified and thrilled you.

Dream. The perfect name for a creature so enthralling.

Mere days passed before Matthew appeared in your garden once again. You only noticed when you heard Hope speaking to someone, and his voice carried into the greenhouse. You thought it best to give them their privacy.

You could feel Morpheus’ presence through the raven even from here. It was stronger than last time, but you assumed that was because of Matthew’s injury.

And when it moved closer, you paid it no mind, thinking Matthew and Hope were joining you. It only occurred to you that their voices had stayed the same volume when the energy was standing in the doorway.

You glanced over your shoulder, eyes jumping in surprise.

“Good morning.”

“Morpheus,” you said. “I…What are you doing here?”

“Matthew wished to visit Hope,” he said, stepping forward, hands behind his back. He scanned over the pots of flowers and herbs, trailing from the one at your fingertips, up your arms, to meet your eyes. “I wished to visit you.”

You bit your lip lightly, glancing down then back. “Well then, how about a cup of tea?”

He nodded once, letting you lead the way.

You moved to Thelma’s Grove because something pulled you toward it after your grandmother died. You found a home in the community. People who would protect you and who you’d protect in return. It didn’t matter if you had lived here for twenty years or visited for a few hours. Once you found this little corner of the world, you were part of it forever.

And you hoped the same could be said of the Endless behind you.

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endless-ineffabilities · 2 years

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Hi, I was wondering if would you be able to do something where the reader is with Morpheus when he tells Nada he still loves her? Only if you’re comfortable with writing about Nada or just angst in general ofc

Only you can set alight the fire in me

pairing: Morpheus x reader

warnings: allusion to smut, angst

summary: Reader is the half human, half immortal (take your pick - goddess, angel, witch, etc.) soulmate of Morpheus. When they come across Nada in hell, Morpheus makes a confession that the Reader simply doesn't like, to say the least.

Main Library

When I found out that he came back, I was elated.

It had been nearly a century since I last saw my beloved Morpheus, who suffered captivity in the wretched hands of Roderick Burgess. I tried everything in my power to free him, but even I cannot stray from the rules of magic.

I was able to communicate with him several times, and each time I had strained my power completely, to the point where he discouraged me from attempting to do so.

I knew that I just had to wait. Somehow, someday, my love would come back to me.

And he did.

He came back different, broken. But in my arms, he was still the same. I could sense a rage had developed within him - against his captors, from finding out that most of his subjects had left, from losing Jessamy.

From being away from me. I could also see that he tried to temper it down, for my sake, simply being content with basking in the glow of our reunion.

"My love," he whispered, voice breaking. We held each other for the longest time, Lucienne having excused herself much earlier to give us some space. Whispering sweet nothings, and promises of devotion repressed through the years. Sitting there in his throne room, almost wrapped in each other's skin, I never wanted to let him go.

"I'm sorry, I'm so so sorry," he breathed against my skin, nose nuzzled in my neck.

"You have nothing to be sorry for, my love. They did this to you."

"But all of that caused you pain. You have no idea how," he runs his fingers down my arm, "badly," his hand now gently moving up my knees to my thighs, "... I needed you."

"Morpheus," I whispered, voice getting caught in my throat, "welcome back."

His lips crash to mine, gentle yet demanding, and all else was forgotten.

--------

Of course, there was much work to be done. My love had been robbed of his tools during his time in captivity.

We ventured off to London to retrieve his sand from Johanna Constantine, whom I've grown quite fond of, due to her tireless wit and devil-may-care attitude. I made a note to catch up with her another time.

And now, where else would we be but in the cold, depths of hell -myself, Morpheus, and his new raven Matthew, determined to take back his helm from a demon. Being here feels excruciating, as if hell is pricking through my damn skin. The ceaseless tortured screams of the damned don't do much to help, either.

Morpheus firmly holds my hand, as we follow Squatterbloat through each cursed area of hell. I was distrustful of the demon immediately, knowing that their kind was prone to acts of deceipt and malevolence, no matter how mild-mannered they may show themselves to be in the moment.

We start to climb the cells of the damned, a sprawling block of dreary towers covered by a sky of smouldering fumes. We pass cell after cell, and I try to avert my eyes from every tormented soul, as I don't think I can bear it.

"Take heart, my love," Morpheus squeezes my hand, sensing my discomfort, "We'll be out of here soon."

"I know," I try to focus on him, and nothing else, "Let's get your helm, and get out of this hellhole."

"I am grateful that you came with me. You give me all the strength that I need." He lifts my hand, and leaves a loving kiss.

"I would go anywhere with you, my love."

"Aww, you guys are so cute." Matthew intervenes, "It almost made me forget that we are literally in hell. Almost."

"Well, I nearly forgot that you were flapping about with us, Matthew. Almost." I turn to him playfully.

"Ha-ha," he responds dryly, "Leave it to you two to get all loved-up in hell, of all places."

Matthew and I had gotten into a routine of friendly banter, ever since Lucienne assigned him to be Morpheus' new raven. I appreciate the reprieve that it offers in this situation.

"Just walk on, you two," Morpheus says, feigning disinterest, but I could tell he was amused.

We walk on, and I dread the view that surrounds us, but I dread coming face-to-face with Lucifer even more.

I shuffle closer behind Morpheus, when a strained voice echoes from inside a cell.

"Kai-ckul?" A woman breathes heavily, peering through the jarred bars of her entrapment. "Dream Lord?"

Morpheus halts. He recognizes her voice.

"It is you." Her eyes well up in tears. I can't even imagine what she is going through.

"I greet you, Nada." Morpheus responds, his grip loosening on my hand.

So this is Nada. Morpheus had once revealed to me all of his past lovers. He said that he didn't want to hide anything from me, he wanted me to know what exactly being with him entails. All the good and the bad that came with it.

"But now, there is only you. There will only ever be you, my love. If you'll have me," I remember that he had said to me then, eyes ablaze in passion.

I stay silent as they speak, even when Morpheus drops my hand entirely.

Then I hear her ask, "Do you not still love me?"

I feel myself tense at her question, and Matthew and I exchange a knowing look.

A moment passes, and I assume that he is simply choosing the right words to reject her, while still being considerate.

Until he responds, "It has been 10,000 years, Nada. Yes, I still love you."

Her face lights up in realization, and I try to steady myself, disappointed at what I just heard.

"But I have not yet forgiven you." he turns away from her, and starts walking.

"Come, my love. Come, Matthew." he calls out to us, gazing straight ahead.

"You," Nada's eyes find mine, "are with him?"

"Yes," I answer weakly. I don't wish my words to bring her any further pain.

"He loves me," she grips the bars of her cell, as if wanting to break them off, "He said so himself. One day, he will forgive me and we will be together once more."

"I'm sorry," I don't know what else to say, feeling empty inside from hearing Morpheus' confession.

I walk faster to catch up with Morpheus, with Matthew promptly following behind.

Morpheus reaches for my hand, but I pretend that I don't notice and say, "Let's go. I've just decided that I really hate this damn place." I walk past him.

"That's rough," Matthew quips beside me.

"Tell me about it."

--------

We succeeded, as I believed we would.

Triumphant, and helm in hand, Morpheus, Matthew and I made our way back into the Dreaming.

I had been so afraid for my love when he engaged the Ruler of Hell in combat, that I nearly forgot the exchange that he had with his former lover.

Nearly.

Upon returning, Lucienne greets us with a relieved smile. However, she looks as if she's thrown off by my expression.

"Is something wrong?" she asks me in concern.

Everyone looks at me expectedly, but I'm not really in the mood to share so I just shrug, "Not at all, I'm fine. I'll just head to my library."

Morpheus tries to catch my eye, but I am already heading off. He calls out to me, "I'll be with you shortly, my love."

I enter my library and feel a sense of calm wash over me. Morpheus had constructed this library just for me, and it contains only the books that I love, as well as the ones that I have yet to read but am bound to love afterward.

This room is but a single proof of his efforts to win me over, and that he did, but now I can't help but wonder if I am truly special, or if he had achieved similar feats for his past lovers too. Perhaps he had, and normally I would be fine with that, but then again, he said that he loves her. Does he still love all of them? If he does, then his love will never be just for me.

The door flies open, and he strides in, unbothered and unaware of my thoughts.

He sits next to me on this plush, dark gray loveseat, but I don't look at him.

"Something's wrong?" he asks slowly, "Something's bothering you, my love. Tell me."

"You love her."

"What?"

"You still love her. Nada." I turn to him so he fully see the extent of my emotions. Maybe I am overthinking things, but his declaration of love didn't sit well with me.

"I..." he seems at a loss, choosing his next words carefully, "I will always have a love for her, yes. But it's different with you, of course."

"How so?"

"What do you mean? You know how important you are to me. You are everything." he reaches for my hands, eyes imploring me to understand.

"Morpheus," I pull away, and pace the room, "what if I had encountered any of my exes - Aeneas, Gabriel..."

"Don't mention those names in front of me," he cuts me off, his voice darkening.

"What if I meet them, and tell them I still love them?" I press on, as he looks up at me, brows furrowed, "How would you feel then?"

"You wouldn't dare do that, my love," he stands, adding the term of endearment in a slightly menacing tone, far from the usual doting one.

"That's how I feel!" I raise my arms in exasperation, "I mean, do you still love all of them? Your past lovers?"

"It's not the same. I am an Endless. It's almost impossible for me to simply get rid of old ties. My love runs deep for whomever I devote myself to. With Nada, she's an extraordinary woman... but she's nothing compared to you."

I find it hard to wrap my head around it, and take a few deep breaths. If he thinks that flattery, and a couple of sweet lines will completely diffuse the situation, he is sorely mistaken.

"I'm sorry," he reaches out to me, and I let him wrap his arms around me tightly, "I'm sorry I said that, and that it upset you. I do have a kind of love for all my former lovers, but all that pales in comparison to my love for you."

"I don't know," I mutter against his chest, "what to think."

"Then don't." He leans down, and kisses me. I try to stay angry, but he kisses me harder, moaning low and deep against my lips, and I lose myself in him.

His hands run down my sides, settling on my waist, pushing my back down onto the loveseat.

He proceeds to kiss my neck, biting a trail along the way.

"No one else can kiss you like this," he rests his forehead against mine, and runs his fingers down my chest, "No one else can touch you like I do. You're mine."

I wrap my fingers around his wrist, halting his movements, "And you're mine. Don't ever tell a former lover that you love them ever again. Not like that. I understand the extent of your compassion for each one of them, but you wouldn't want me to do the same to mine."

He gazes at me for the longest time, before a soft smile emerges on his lips, "Understood. And I'm yours."

He kisses me again, and again, and again.

Endlessly.

The end.

first oneshot/request done! It's not as angsty as I intended but hopefully it's got enough 😂

Yes, I do take requests, for Morpheus, Corinthian, and potentially other characters in other fandoms too. Drop me a message!

And, Ineffable's next chapter will be out in a couple of days. Corinthian will be making an appearance - I simply couldn't resist.

#morpheus imagine #morpheus x reader #dream imagine #dream x reader #dream of the endless imagine #dream of the endless x y/n #dream of the endless x reader #the sandman #morpheus x y/n #morpheus oneshot #dream oneshot #dream of the endless oneshot #the sandman imagine #dream of the endless #tom sturridge #endless oneshots #morpheus

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yearninqheart · 2 years

Text

loneliness was built for two

oh what a tragic way of living it was to be utterly alone during an endless lifespan.

pairing: morpheus x reader

word count: 1.5k

tags: gender-neutral!reader, immortal!reader, unreliable narrator, past lovers, lowkey endgame, pre-sandman series,

warnings: minor implications of physical abuse, my rusty writing (pls its been months im sorry), uploading this at like 9pm so sorry for any errors

notes: yes this was inspired was the bonus calliope episode. no i do not have any original ideas ok i do but i just do not have the time/energy to complete them yet

You sensed his presence the moment he appeared in the dark corner of your bedroom. You didn’t need to glance towards your left to know that he was standing there, looking at you with an unreadable expression as always as you kept your attention glued to the moon up in the night sky.

Neither of you knew what to say, so you simply remained quiet. For the next few moments, the two of you appeared to remain frozen in place as you raked your minds for absolutely anything to say. Surely there was something that could be said to break the awkward silence neither of you could ever recall experiencing in the past. Has things really changed that much?

It had been years–centuries to be exact– since you’ve both last seen each other but of all things that could be said to break the silence, the line Morpheus decided to go with was: “Hi.”

You bit back a smile at his awkward greeting and for a moment, you almost considered removing your lip from your teeth. He always used to hate whenever you’d try to hide your smile.

He also used to hate you. Or at least that's how he made you feel.

“I’m sorry, I-I shouldn’t have bothered you.” You mentally cursed at yourself for stumbling over your words. And for calling out to him. “You didn’t have to come really. I just-”

“You could never be a bother.” His voice was soft. Much softer than the last time you spoke—or fought, rather—and for a moment the tenderness almost made you forget how harsh he last sounded. Almost.

“Well then I apologize for wasting your time, My Lord.” You said dismissively, finally turning your head to face him.

You quickly regretted that decision when you watched his eyes widen in a mix of shock, horror, and worry as the bruise blossoming on the right side of your neck was now clearly shown to him. Quickly turning your head around you hoped that he somehow wouldn’t have noticed but you knew it was no use.

“You’re hurt.” He pointed out the obvious. You refrained yourself from scoffing at the observation and instead decide to gnaw on the inside of your cheek.

You wondered if a part of his reaction was due to your formalities when you addressed him. Back then he was always ‘Morpheus’ or ‘Dear’ to you while ‘My Lord’ was for those who kneeled at his throne. He would have never let the day come that you stood in front of the throne rather than beside or on it. Even now he would still stand before you—even after all that's been said and done between you two and the centuries you’ve been apart.

“I am fine.” There’s not much left that you could do anyways.

“Who did this to you?”

“I said that I am fine-”

“Then why did you call out for me?”

Silence blanketed the air of your bedroom as you found yourself unable to respond to his question. Not because you didn’t know how to but rather, because your pride would never let you say that the reason you had called upon the Lord of Dreams was because you were scared.

He had made you feel safe for so long when you were his and even after everything that’s happened, you’ve yet to find anyone else who gave you that same sense of security that you would call out for them after such a bitter parting. Perhaps that was why you didn’t hesitate to call out for him. Afterall he did vow to always be there for you, even if your relationship wasn’t in the same place as when he first made that promise to you. Morpheus was a man of his words.

“It was Jesse.” You quietly admitted, shifting your gaze to your ankles while you ignored his stare. “They got into some fight, again, and I was just caught in the crossfire of it all.”

It was only partly a lie what you told him but it was for the sake of your friend, even after what they had done to you. Yes your friend did get into another fight after another long night of drinking that almost led them to getting kicked out but it wasn’t the crossfire that resulted in your injury but rather, Jesse themselves. The fight was between the two of you anyways but you knew the lengths that Morpheus would go to get revenge so you acted like your heart didn’t ache at the fact that you had probably lost another friend over something stupid. It appeared that losing those you loved the most in your immortal life was the downside to your blessing of an immortal life. Or was it actually a curse?

“What do you want me to do?” He asked softly. Genuinely. No biting tone or malice intent behind any of his words. He just wanted to be here. As he once vowed to do so long ago.

You hadn’t considered his question prior to calling him however. In the heat of the moment when their hands were still wrapped around your throat you had used up the last of your oxygen to call for him before darkness wrapped around your eyes and you collapsed, or so you led yourself to believe.

What happened after you lost consciousness was still a mystery to you. A kind stranger who claimed to pried Jesse off of you a second after you hit the ground had stayed with you until you regained consciousness—which according to them, was just a few seconds later—and offered to drive you back to your apartment which led you both now here.

“I could leave if you truly want?” Morpheus had begun to walk towards the door but you quickly shut him down, shocking not only him but yourself when your hand flew out to grab his own as a response.

“Please don’t.” He stiffened in shock at the unexpected action but obliged to your request nonetheless. His response came a nod as he stood there awkwardly by your bed as you held his hand. Your hold on him was loose, almost as if you were scared reality would ruin the moment and you realized this was all a dream. But you had refused to return to the Dreaming since the night you left and in turn, Morpheus hadn’t paid you any dreams ever since. Or nightmares, thankfully.

He squeezed your hand then bit back a smile when your grip on him tightened. He desperately wanted to pull you into him and wrap himself around you like he used to do so many years ago but times have changed. People change and he told himself his feelings have as well given the centuries you spent apart but tonight only proved his thoughts wrong.

“Can I go back?” Morpheus turned to look at you confusingly. “To the Dreaming I mean, can I return to it one day?”

Oh.

It was odd to see the Dream Lord unable to respond. Oftentimes than not he usually knew exactly what to say or do in any given situation except for when it was with you.

Desire had once called you a liability due to your unpredictable nature during a family gathering of the Endless siblings and Dream just almost reached their seat at the table before Death grabbed his arm to stop him. She may have managed to save the gathering from becoming a bloodbath but the stares as sharp as daggers being thrown across the table did little to ease the new tension that Desire seemed to love whenever he was near.

Perhaps in some ways they were right. There definitely had been situations where you were pulled into his messes due to your affiliation with the Dreaming and its ruler but you knew what you were getting yourself into when you first began seeking him out in his realm. And he knew what he was getting himself into when he began to let you. Or at least, to some extent he did.

“Morpheus?”

He wondered if you noticed the way he almost stumbled upon his words and nearly replied with, ‘Yes, dearest?’.

You wondered if he noticed how you were almost expecting it and the pang of pain that struck you when it didn’t come.

“You can visit anytime you’d like.”

You didn’t reply after that. Instead, you glanced up at him with a smile he hasn’t been able to see in such a long time and he understood what it was that you were trying to say. You almost forgot that you were still holding his hand until he gave it another reassuring squeeze and reached for his leather pouch.

Sand was sprinkled over your eyes and you felt as if the world around you was spinning violently as your vision turned to dark. You briefly felt strong arms wrap around your shoulders as your back met with the familiar surface of the bed before you finally felt yourself let go, your consciousness going to a place you had dared not enter for centuries until now.

I’ll see you back home.

#oneshot #morpheus #morpheus x reader #dream of the endless #dream of the endless x reader #dream #dream x reader #the sandman x reader #sandman x reader #morpheus oneshot #dream of the endless oneshot #dream oneshot #the sandman oneshot #sandman oneshot #immortal!reader #gn!reader

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oneshots-heaven · 1 year

Text

A Love That's Not Mine — Morpheus/Dream

On the search of totems of power, Morpheus meets upon Johanna Constantine who draws his attention to her — much to your dislike.

Warning: pure angst/sadness (it’s a short one) Morpheus/Dream x Dream!Reader

“He will not like seeing you sit on his throne.“

You glanced back over to Lucienne whom you had been talking to for the past hour as she sorted hundreds of parchments in the ruins of the Grand Hall in hopes of finding something certain. Something she would not talk about with you, claiming it was not of your interest.

“I appreciate your concern, but I do not care.“

Lucienne sighed at your reaction, but strained from doing anything other. It would have been pointless anyway, experience from hundreds of years had taught her that—that was how long you had known each other. A hundred years had been the recent you had spent together, buried underneath the ruins of what you had once called your home. The Dreaming—once a beautiful place filled the greatest imaginations, the fearfullest nightmares and the deepest wishes—was not what it used to be without its king to reign.

A hundred years gone by without a sigh of its rightful king and his land wasted away like a faded memory until only its truest dweller stayed. Lucienne, as much as you, was one of the only ones who remained, in the most fearful hope of his return and the re-reign of his land. Days turned into weeks, passing into months and years. A hundred years meant nothing to the ones you’d already spent in your lifetime, but a hundred years felt awfully long when you existed without any purpose.

As the king return ever so suddenly, your purpose came back along with him. However, all what once had been wasn’t the same when he returned. You had felt it cutting deep in your heart when you first saw him again. Whatever may happened to him in all those years, he would not speak much of it. All it had done was change him into another man, one that you struggled to recognize. One that struggled to recognize you.

The ruins of the Grand Hall shook upon his return from his search for his totems of power he had gotten stolen.

“May I utter one last warning?“ Lucienne said quietly, her tone so distressed. She had been a friend, especially over the last hundred years, but she still did not understand when it was not right to play with fire.

You sat still on the throne of the king, ignoring her final warning. Even with the best words, you would have not been able to explain the source of your bitterness, the very one that turned you crueler as the days passed by.

As the stone floor vibrated underneath your feet, you knew he had been successful in his search for at least one of his totems. The panicking, yet lightening gaze of Lucienne revealed that she knew just as much. The king of the Dreaming slowly returned to his highest powers. You felt it in the electrified air as he entered the Grand Hall, the surrounding changing with every of his steps, carrying a small but heavy looking pouch in his right hand. It was even smeared across his face, his eyes were almost as bright as the mystic ones of his librarian.

“Lucienne,“ he greeted her, his voice carried a hint of relief, as he caught sight of her first.

“My lord,“ she said happily, however, her smile vanished and her stolen gaze revealed her worry to him. She lowered her head quickly, closing the book in her hands, as he had already taken notice of you sitting still and sternly on his throne.

You recked your chin, eyes attached to the pouch only, avoiding his glaring glance as he stepped closer. “As I see, you have found your sand, my lord.“

“I have, indeed,“ he claimed calmly, but somehow you knew it was only the calm before the true storm. He did not turn around to address her properly and simply said instead, “Lucienne, will you please leave us alone?“

“Of course, my lord.“

As she turned away from the Grand Hall off to the side entrance, her eyes met yours for one last time as another warning, however, in this one laid a request. Keep your silence, it almost said. She asked you not to share your deepest anger, and rather to keep your mouth shut, although she knew better than that. The lord of the Dreaming may be an Endless, but it did not matter how mighty or powerful he was, you would speak your mind, especially now when what you called your home seemed to falter.

“And as I see, you’ve made yourself comfortable in my absence.“

You straightened your position, yet not dared to slip away from the throne. “As comfortable as ruins can be.“

Morpheus scoffed. “Do you really dare to sit there and hold a grudge over my absence, which was to your notice not my fault? Have you forgotten the part where I have told you about my abduction?“ “No, you did not failed to mention that.“

“So, what is this for?“ he argued, motioning to you sitting sternly on the place that belonged to him, and only him. A place you would’ve never dared to sit at without his permission, but that was years ago. A lifetime had past ever since, and so had your patience with him. The Dreaming was falling apart, its magic seemed lost, and there was no other but him to blame.

Just as there was no other to save it.

You pushed yourself out of his claimed seat, stepping down the broken apart steps to the ground level of the Grand Hall. Morpheus stood mighty, all tall and fearless, in the same spot as you walked closer to him. “I congratulate you for earning your sand back. It will bring good back to the Dreaming. It just leaves me to wonder what it has cost you.“

His gaze was brutal, but you did not let him falter you. “What it has cost me?“ he echoed. “It has cost me nothing but nerves. Put your worry aside.“

“I worry as I please, especially if humans like Johanna Constantine become a dangerous part of your deal to getting the sand back, or become a threat in general.“

His brows furrowed, the confusion being obvious written all over his face, but as your words hit him, he brushed past you stepping up the stairs to his throne, saying with his back turn on you, “Jealousy does not suit you well.“

Your blood drew cold. Someone else in your place probably would’ve known it better, to keep their mouth shut and not speak up against the judgement from their lord. Someone else would’ve, but not you, because how dare he come back after all those years of his land suffering and belittle you this way?

You laughed dryly. “You must mistaken me, my words have nothing to do with jealously.“

Morpheus huffed, letting himself down on his throne. “But what else are you trying to provoke?“

Your gaze was sternly on him. “Nothing. I am just protecting what is mine.“

He recked his chin, his hard gaze meeting yours. Two stubborn souls cannot exist next to each other. “But I am not yours to protect, nor will I ever be.“

Every argument came back to this, full circle to the harsh reminder. Always some heavy words to drown you in, to keep you away from him, as if your actions were smothering him. He always seemed to forget that all you’d ever wanted was for the Dreaming to thrive and blossom, but he instead acted as if you were an intruder in your own home.

“I am in no need of reminders of that.“ you spoke calmly, but the bitterness seeped through, poisoning every word. “But you are the king of the kingdom I exist in, so I shall remind you of that before you go and risk our home so selfishly, once again. Because as it appears right now, you have forgotten yourself!“

Raise your voice and you’ll know when to regret it, the words were burned in your head, and although they still hurt like the first time Morpheus ever threatened you, you still didn’t listen to him. How could you when he was the source of everything you’d ever loved and kept you in constant fear to lose it all within seconds? One change of mind and it all could be gone. That was a terrible power to have and you despised him for having it.

“Don’t you dare talking to me like that.“

Tears burned hot in the corners of your inner eyes. It was written all over his face. He didn’t care about how you were feeling, perhaps he never did. But what made it even worse, was the way he looked at you—so full of rage.

You kept your head held high. There was nothing for you to lose if he would risk it all anyways.

“The Dreaming is everything I’ve got, it’s everything I love. How can you not understand my fear when you go and blur the lines between our world and the ones of people like Johanna.“ you tried to explain to him, however, with every words you’d found yourself more damned. “You took a liking on her, and I have seen how love can turn you into a fool. If you give into that, then one day the lines will be too blurred, and you’ll risk our home for something that is not worth it. And I thought you had here everything you could’ve wanted.“ Your nerves went blank as Morpheus pushed himself out of his throne. There was softness in his gaze, but you knew it was a trick to keep you from running away. In those eyes, you had lost yourself so many times that for moments, you forgot that he was an Endless. He was not created to be good, he was meant to be cruel.

He stepped in front of you, gripping your jaw so harsh within seconds as his hand snapped forwards, pulling your mouth closer to his. “Do not go over your head, my love. You are nothing more than a carnation of what I’ve wanted you to be. You’re a part of my essences, I’ve created you. You do not get to tell me what I should or shouldn’t do. If this kingdom goes down, then you’ll vanish with it, because you are not real.“

Once you’d promised yourself to not show any fear in front of them, but this felt like the end. It did not matter anymore, so you did not hide as the hot swelling tears rolled your cheek onto his hands. His words hurt, like they always did, but these ones hurt even more because you could have never fulfilled the very sole reason why he created you.

Although the pain, you leaned into him as you felt as if your heart was being ripped out of your chest, mumbling, “I was your dream once, and now you’re kicking me out.“

The grip of his hands softened, strangely allowing you for the briefest of moments to lean further against him. The hardness of his gaze vanished, and for once, the treacherous softness seemed to be truthful. His hand cupped your cheek as he said, “Time changes, my dear.“

And this may was the end of what you ever were and all of what you could’ve been.

A/N: This has been sitting in my files for ages. I’ve never truly finished writing this, however, I liked some of the lines I wrote of this, so I’m sharing this unfinished piece with you all. Hope you still enjoyed it.

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theaudacitytowrite · 2 years

Text

Damned Eternity

Morpheus x Reader

A/N: I hope this one is not too self indulgent so y’all can enjoy it. Basically it’s just two socially awkward beans who haven’t seen each other in over a century. My initial notes to this idea were "two emos in love".

Summary: Cursed with immortality by an unknown power you find yourself fleeing into the dreaming to cope with having to live in a world that gets worse with every century. Until the last reason that makes your life bearable gets taken away too.

(Takes place after Episode 6 when Death convinces Dream to reach out to his friends)

The sun stood high on the firmament while a still chilly breeze drifted through the park. Aside from the birds who were already wide awake as they chirped their sweetest melodies the park was quiet. Soon people would start to pour into the park to enjoy another perfect late spring day.

Along the avenue, a line of benches was set next to each other with some space. From the bench in the middle of the park one was able to catch a glimpse of the entire park.

That’s where you sat cross-legged as you stared into the distance. You fixed your hair that poked out from under the hood of your sweatshirt. You sighed as you brushed away a few strands that just wouldn’t stay where they were supposed to, out of your face over and over again until you gave up. You leaned against the cold wood with your back, shutting your eyes tightly for a while so you could immerse into the sounds around you.

Your eyes were still heavy, begging for sleep or at least some kind of rest. Even now as they were closed, you felt them burning. The night hadn’t been kind to you as the several ones before. You had laid awake on your back, staring endlessly up at the ceiling as the night fell and the sun was about to rise again. That’s when you decided to get up and watch the sunrise in the nearby park. There wasn’t much to do for you anyway, so you didn’t mind wasting your time in this park.

You must’ve sat there for a few hours already as the park had slowly started to fill up. Groups of Teenagers had already arrived while families with giddy children that ran around chasing pigeons were only just now turned up. The commotion quickly encased you in its midst, yet no one seemed to take notice of you despite the stark contrast of your all-black outfit to the vibrant colours all around you.

All of a sudden you felt the air around you shift as the wind picked up again and all at once it was wind still again. You could feel a presence behind you, so unusual yet so familiar.

“Dream of the endless.” you exclaimed, never averting your gaze from the fixed point in the distance, "So it is true, you're actually back."

"I am." his husky voice resounded from behind you, erupting goosebumps on the back of your neck. With slow steps, Dream walked around the park bench into your line of view.

“May I?” he asked nodding towards the space next to you, his hands buried deep in the pockets of his jacket.

“Be my guest,” you muttered, and Dream sat next to you, taking in the view you were still fixated on.

“How did you find me?” you asked dryly.

“Death perhaps gave me a hint.” he smirked bashfully, “Without her help, I wouldn’t have had a chance to learn about your whereabouts.”

Silence fell over the two of you. It felt strange to have Dream sitting right next to you after more than a century. A part of you was afraid that he was only part of your imagination, wishful thinking of your overtired mind. You barely dared to look at him in fear his image might vanish if you’d look directly at him.

"I see, you still enjoy the solitude." he interrupted your line of thought.

“What else is left there for me?” you retorted bitterly, “After a few millennia life loses its appeal… especially if the last thing that brought me joy was taken from me too.”

“You stopped dreaming.” he nodded knowingly but without a hint of reproach in his voice.

“I still did for a while... But your absence made it hard to find joy in it anymore. Any time something flitted in the corner of my eye I expected to see you lurking at the edge… but you weren’t there.”

“I’m back now.” The dark timber in his voice resounded deep in your bones. Your eyes met for the first time, and you inspected his features. He looked just like you remembered him all these years ago yet the glint in his eyes seemed to be new.

“I thought it was just another Dream.” you admitted teary-eyed, “Too good to be true.”

“It is not.” he smiled softly back, his hand gently covering yours that rested on your knee, “I am here.”

To feel his warm palm cup your hand banished any of your fears, and your heart ached as it expanded in your chest. An overwhelming sense of happiness filled your chest, a sensation you had missed for too long than you could remember, and you felt the corners of your mouth twitch up into a smile. But your face fell quickly again as the paralyzing guilt in your veins fought back, suffocating the pleasant excitement all at once.

Dream watched the sparkle leave your eyes as quickly as it had appeared, the cold gaze that had greeted him earlier returning. He withdrew his hand, leaving yours cold. He gnawed on his lips as his gaze fell to the ground.

“I’m sorry it took me so long to find you. I still had to deal with some … incommodities.” He mumbled.

“Death told me.” Even your voice had returned to a monotone pitch.

He took a deep breath as he steeled himself for your possible answer to his next question.

“Why haven’t you visited the dreaming again since I returned?” he nervously entwined his fingers, “Do you resent me?”

His sombre remark tugged on your heart.

“Oh, Morpheus.” You whimpered sorrowfully as you couldn’t bare it any longer. You sat up properly, falling around Dream's neck in the next moment. You hugged him tightly as remorse washed over you. Dream was quick to wrap his arms around you, holding you close against his heart. To hear his name from your lips again made his heart flutter in joy.

“Why would I ever have reason to resent you?” you sobbed against his coat. Dream loosened his hug as he pulled back just enough to rest his forehead against yours.

“Then what is it that’s bearing you down then, my little lune?” he rasped.

“It’s just…,” you stammered. You took a deep breath, working up the courage to be truthful to Dream, “If one has the right to resent someone, it’s you.”

Dreams eyes fluttered open at your words. His intense gaze made you feel so small suddenly. You created more space between you, even though your mind yelled at you for the loss of Dreams touch.

“After I heard the news of your imprisonment, I visited Lucienne right away. I had already grown suspicious about why I hadn’t seen you in my day nor night dreams, but I foolishly believed you were busy creating new nightmares.” You explained to him, “When I entered the dreaming, I was appalled to see your kingdom gradually decaying. Lucienne explained to me the dire need for people to remain in the dreaming and not turn their back to our Lord… but after a while, I just couldn’t bear to not see you anymore. Any time I’d fall asleep I woke up feeling even more unrested. Daydreaming didn’t feel right anymore either. My favourite pastime turned sour and soon I couldn’t stand it anymore… So, I’m at fault for destroying the dreaming as well. I abandoned you.”

“You did no harm, Y/N.” Dream took your hand in his, squeezing it reassuringly, “No matter how much you would’ve dreamed or not, without a ruler there is no kingdom.”

“I just feel so guilty… that’s why I didn’t dare to enter the dreaming again.” You explained in between sniffs.

“You have no guilt to carry with you in this matter.” He assured you again as he pulled you back into his arms, and gently rubbed your back.

“But I’m sorry that I wasn’t there when you needed me the most nonetheless.” You whispered.

“I know.” He hummed, “You need rest now, Y/N. You can dream peacefully again.”

“Is this an invitation?” you asked sheepishly. Dream chuckled and stood up.

“How can I make it any clearer to you?” he mused as he looked down at you with a smirk. He held out his hand towards you, “Come with me.”

Without hesitation, you laid your hand in his, sure that you would never let go of it again.

If you enjoyed this one, let me know if you're interested in another lil fic. I might have another idea...

Tagging (bc I have no idea who wants to read it): @leucoratia @kellatron55 @poetic-fiasco @vbecker10 @xwhiteoleanderx @nobody1390-24

#dream #morpheus #dream x you #dream x y/n #dream x reader #morpheus x y/n #morpheus x you #dream of the endless #the sandman #sandman fic #sandman fanfiction #dream oneshot #dream drabble #morpheus oneshot #morpheus drabble

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withoutyouimsaskia · 7 months

Text

Autumn (Sandman One-Shot)

GIF: Originally posted by @thisgameissonintendo

Pairing: Morpheus/Dream of the Endless x gender neutral reader

Summary: One-shot. Reader self-insert. Pure fluff. Friends to more-than-friends. Morpheus has made you a dream based on one of your favourite things and you explore it together.

Warnings: Physical intimacy, kissing.

Word Count: 1.5k

A/N: Happy First Day of Autumn Sandfam! Hope you enjoy this one, would love to hear what you think, and also to know which season is your favourite and why. All my love, Saskia <3

Sandman Masterlist

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"Can I open my eyes yet?" You stifle a giggle with the back of your hand, feeling very much like a person awaiting a surprise on their birthday.

"So impatient," Morpheus replies with a teasing lilt to his liquid velvet voice that sets your laughter free.

"Is that a yes?"

"I am simply adding some final touches."

Ever the perfectionist, you think with a grin.

You inhale deeply, making use of one of the only other senses you could use in this situation. The air is crisp, fresh, with an earthy undertone; you are definitely outside, but where, you have no other clues to help guess.

Morpheus had certainly not given anything away when he had found you sketching in the Dreaming's orchard, charcoal in one hand, half-eaten apple in the other. He had simply told you there was something he wanted to show you.

Curiosity mounting, you had eagerly taken your friend's outstretched hand and promised to not look until he gave the word.

Finally, there is movement in the air beside you. Morpheus' fingers ghost your upper arm to signify his proximity.

"You may open your eyes now," he speaks quietly yet authoritatively by your ear.

You look, blinking to adjust to the sunlight filtering through the swaying branches of numerous trees, before taking the view in properly.

You notice the colours first, their vivacity and variety:

Umber, sienna, scarlet, amber, saffron. All under a pale blue, wispy cloud sky.

Leaves are falling thick and fast. They swirl and undulate in the soft breeze, coming to rest on an already leaf-smothered ground.

Little collections of chestnut coloured mushrooms are dotted next to the tree line. Droplets of dew have gathered on their caps, lending a gorgeous sheen to their already lovely appearance.

Everything you saw was a showcase of autumn.

"You remembered," you say breathlessly, referring to a conversation that had taken place a few weeks ago where you had professed your love for the season and all it entailed.

You look to Morpheus with a sunbeam smile, asking for permission to explore. He nods, extending his arm, communicating that it was all yours.

Your steps into the leafy clearing are gleeful and bouncy, creating satisfying rustling and crunching noises as you go towards the well-established trees. Melodic birdsong echoes from the canopy above you. Swathes of moss begin where the layers of leaves end. You carefully hop onto it and enjoy the way your shoes sink a little into the plush, verdant carpet.

Fingertips trail over the greyish, dappled trunk of a sycamore tree before you move to the tactile, deeply ridged bark of an ash.

You slip your arms around the second tree, close your eyes and give it a big hug.

Everything feels right in this moment.

You open your eyes to see Morpheus watching you from several paces away. There is a twinkle in his deep blue eyes; clearly he finds your display amusing.

The rich autumn colours contrast beautifully against his monochrome attire. None of the falling leaves come close to his person, reminding you that even now, even when he looks to be still, there are a multitude of responsibilities ticking away inside his mind, including the control of the objects within this tranquil dreamscape.

A dreamscape that he wanted to share with you.

It is times like these that you are confronted by the truth of just how special your friendship with Morpheus is. There are fleeting moments where you wish it could be more but for now you are simply an Endless and a mortal who find solace in each other's company.

Pushing yourself away from the tree, you come back into the clearing and find a spot among the leaves to sit. Morpheus joins you after you pat the ground and call his name.

No words are exchanged for a while. You simply pick through the surrounding leaves to find the most vibrant example. A scarlet one, fallen from an aspen is what you settle on. You tuck it in your coat pocket and meet Morpheus' wistful gaze.

"Thank you, I really needed this."

He nods formally. "When you said that you found yourself missing the autumn splendours of the Waking World, I decided to make a version for you to visit at your leisure."

You are taken aback. "You made all this for me?"

"Yes," his tone starts off measured as ever but gives way to something you have never heard before. "Does it have your approval?"

The sudden insecurity is impossibly endearing. You reach sideways to touch the back of his hand.

"Approval? Morpheus, it's - well, somewhere I could only dream of."

He bows his head. "It pleases me to hear that."

"I hope it didn't take up too much of your time to make it all, I know how stretched you can get."

"I cannot deny, it has occupied me a little more than the construction of other recent dreams, however, I believe it necessary to put time and effort into making gifts for those whose pleasure and happiness you find important. You deserve to feel those things, Y/N, and being able to contribute to them in some way brings me pleasure of my own."

You don't know if it the fiery colours around you heightening your reactions but hearing Morpheus talk about pleasure is doing something to you.

It is fuel to the embers that had been smouldering within your body for a couple of months now.

It makes you feel delirious. You find your attention languidly drifting between his eyes and his lips.

Blue to pink, pink to blue.

Then he mirrors your action and it all becomes too much.

"I really want to kiss you right now," you admit, the words rushing out without proper consideration.

"Very well," he answers instantly, not allowing you even a fraction of a second to regret your sudden divulgence.

Doubling down on this approach, he turns his body to face yours and gently cups your face in his long-fingered hands.

He's staring at you so intently, his thumbs run back and forth over your cheekbones, the unwavering attention and sensation causing you to shiver and sigh.

He moves closer and his pupils blow out from anticipation.

Morpheus' perfect lips are now mere centimetres from yours. Fluttery nerves fill your insides. You are so overwhelmed that this is actually happening.

You close the gap, testing the waters with a kiss that is soft and tentative. Morpheus is instantly hooked, initiating a second one that allows you to discover just how skilled he is.

Your hands move up to tangle in Morpheus' unruly hair. At present, you cannot remember how long have you been longing to do this but you are not disappointed by how silken it feels under your palms.

The kiss between you becomes intense, his tongue joining the dance with a bone melting deftness, and soon you want to feel more of his body against yours.

You go to lay back on the bed of leaves.

He pulls away, concern etched in his brows, forehead and eyes that questions if he has gone too quickly.

You smile softly to assure him that all is well.

"Come here." You draw him backwards with you, allowing him to straddle you. During the manoeuvre, his coat falls open enough for you to see the galaxies swirling within the lining.

He wastes no time in leaning down to kiss you once more, starting at your lips and moving to your neck when he senses that you need to breathe.

The touches of his mouth, the feeling of his body covering yours protectively, the weight of his hips aligned with your own; it has you moaning appreciatively.

He withdraws but remains close, astute eyes drinking in every detail and emotion on your smiling face, the halo-like glow shimmering on your hair.

"So beautiful," Morpheus murmurs reverently.

"Your dreams always are," you say, looking past him at the translucent clouds hovering in the sky above you.

His deep voice rumbles deliciously as he speaks his reply, a false admonishment, "You know that's not what I meant."

He playfully nudges his nose against yours. "This dream pales in comparison to you."

You blush as brightly as the leaf that you had stashed within your pocket. Morpheus traces his fingers over the blossoming redness, marvelling in how the extra heat feels under his touch and how his words were the ones that put it there.

"Kiss me, please," you ask in a whisper.

He arranges his coat to cocoon you against the seasonal chill and then obliges you with a deep and passionate kiss that spreads internal warmth right out to the tips of your fingers and toes.

If your winter continues like this, with Morpheus to hold and bond with, it is shaping up to be infinitely more delightful and cosy than any that have come before.

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lili-of-the-dream · 2 years

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do i need to say more😌😌😌😌

#the sandman #sandman #the sandman netflix #lord morpheus #morpheus #dream #dream of the endless #morpheus x reader #morpheus fanfiction #morpheus oneshot #tom sturridge

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dotieeee · 10 months

Text

A Small Act of Kindness

A DARK one-shot

Pairing: Dark!Morpheus x you, afab reader

Warnings: dark!Morpheus, obsessive behaviour, dark!Dream won't take 'no' for an answer, disturbing themes like kidnapping, imprisonment, isolation, etc, 18+ only!!

Inspired by this ask for @roguelov See: https://www.tumblr.com/roguelov/721739134130143232/this-isnt-smut-but-dream-has-strong-miette?source=share

Summary: You were at the cusp of making a life for yourself when you bought a loaf of bread for a stranger, who seemed a little bit too taken with such a nice gesture.

When you were a kid, everybody around you seemed to think you got a great life ahead of you. You kept hearing them comment how bright you were, how talented, how lucky your parents were to have such a behaved, wonderful child - and for a time, it got to your head.

Until life proved you weren't really any of those things.

It started creeping in when you went away to college. You had a taste of freedom, of zero expectations, and a glimpse of a world suddenly leagues beyond yourself. It was one class at first, then another, until you started dropping out of every class and left college altogether.

Many therapy sessions, and a couple of therapists later, you found out what it was called: burnout. It just so happened it plagued you a little early in life.

In retrospect, perhaps you could've tried harder - if you had just snoozed your alarm off a little less; if you had just grit your teeth and stomached your way through a few more algebra periods instead of sitting alone in that little corner of the library, reading whatever, hidden from a world you barely knew - perhaps it all would've been different.

Perhaps, you wouldn't be stuck in this small, glass cage floating in a vast chasm, in a place you hadn't thought existed even in your wildest dreams.

It was a day like any other, you supposed: the day you met him. You had to go to work, to a desk job that you actually liked, writing for a local food magazine. You were quite good at it too - it's a skill you had when you were quite young and had not had a chance to cultivate until late. Sure, you were barely making ends meet and had very little time to spare, what with taking a certificate course at a nearby university and recently moving out of your parents' house to rent your own little apartment, but you were feeling optimistic for the first time in a long while. Your boss just let it slip the other day that you were due for a well-deserved promotion soon. It was a slow process, but you were finally on your way to getting your life back together. You had a future you looked forward to.

Having already established your morning routine, you were on your way early to the office and decided to stop for coffee at this corner bakeshop you had once featured in one of your articles. The smell of freshly baked bread distracted you from a mental draft you were making for an article due tonight, so on impulse, you asked the cashier for a plain butter croissant at the counter. You looked to your right where the pastries were to see whether you wanted something else (the danishes looked scrumptious). You opened your mouth to ask the other lady behind the bread counter for a cherry danish, but her attention was already on the man beside you, clad in a thick, woollen black coat, collar upturned, his chiselled jaw clenched and his eyes narrowed ever-so-slightly at the question the lady posed for him.

"Uh, sir? I asked what you'd like to have?"

He tilted his head imperceptibly and for a moment, you thought he couldn't speak, until he opened those pursed lips, and finally, came out the most velvety, alluring voice you've ever heard: "I'd like some bread, please."

"Well, we've got quite a lot of them," the lady replied slowly as if she was trying her best not to be snarky at the stranger. "Might I recommend the baguette? It's fresh out of the oven."

The man nodded curtly as the lady picked the steaming bread from the basket display using a pair of tongs and placed it inside a brown paper bag.

"That'll be one twenty-five, sir."

The man made no move to shuffle in his pockets for money. In fact, he stayed still, stiff as a board, staring at the lady behind the counter who was getting rather irritated at his dawdling, probably keeping her from attending to the growing line of other customers waiting to get their breakfast. Perhaps, he didn't have money? Perhaps, just like your first few weeks out of your parents' house, he was struggling and he had no one else to depend on?

"I-I'll pay for it."

You didn't know what it really was that compelled you to say it - maybe it was that draft you were itching to get to, maybe you found empathy in his situation, whatever it was - at that time, you had no regrets. Seemingly surprised by the gesture, the man in the black coat, with his dishevelled hair and his pale countenance, stared at you intensely through those long eyelashes of his, and for a few moments, you held his gaze.

His eyes. They were a nice shade of ocean blue. They were the most beautiful pair of eyes you had ever seen.

You would later discover they could bleed to depthless black - ruthless, vindictive, inhuman.

The cashier handed you your change and your croissant, effectively breaking the spell the stranger beside you had on you. The cherry danish all but ignored, you flashed the man a small smile and headed out of the bakeshop, going about your merry way to the office with nothing but that article in mind.

And for the next two weeks, you had already put the rather bizarre incident (man) behind you, having been assigned to another place to visit and write about.

The man, however, never forgot.

The place you had been assigned to, called the New Inn, actually belonged to a professor in your university. You've had quite a lot of fun in his classes, so this was a gig you were pretty excited about.

It was a little over five in the afternoon when you stepped inside Professor Gadling's pub. He was already there in the corner booth, grading several essays. He put them aside as you arrived and asked a waiter to bring you both coffee. You were in the process of bringing out your digital recorder for the interview when you heard a voice so familiar it sent shivers down your spine.

"Hob."

Completely taken by surprise, you dropped the recorder to the floor, and it landed just a few inches from a pair of black boots. You tried to reach for it, but a pale, bony hand picked it up and wordlessly handed it to you. You looked up, only to get lost in a pair of ocean-blue eyes focused entirely on you.

It was the stranger from the bakeshop.

You took the recorder, muttering a flustered 'thank you,' before Professor Gadling greeted him like an old friend. He then introduced you to the stranger, who oddly enough just stared at you the entire time.

"She's interviewing me for the pub. I'll be featured in a magazine, can you believe it?" Professor Gadling said to the stranger who stepped inside the booth, intending to take the empty seat directly across from you. Turning to you, he stated, "This is my friend -"

"You may call me Morpheus." The man interrupted, a ghost of a smile visible on his usually blank features. "It is a pleasure to finally meet you."

It was unnerving the way he held your gaze without blinking, but perhaps it was just your imagination - after all, you hadn't had anything to eat since that leftover Chinese noodles this morning.

“Pleasure’s all mine,” was all you could come up with.

You were grateful when the waiter arrived with two cups of coffee and a dessert platter, and the interview with the professor went well and without interruptions. You both had so much fun, you ended up having dinner and drinks at the pub, and while it struck you odd that your third, silent companion did not partake in any single morsel of the food, by the time the evening ended at half-past ten, you had enough material for your article and were in great spirits. You thanked him for being such a gracious host and politely bid your farewell, as you were anxious to get a headstart on the draft.

The three of you simultaneously got to your feet - Professor Gadling to walk you outside, and the odd man named Morpheus trailing behind.

"Do come by again, my dear, and good luck with the article. I know you'd do a fantastic job." The professor said as he waved farewell outside the pub. He turned to Morpheus, who stood just a few feet away, watching the interaction, and gestured to him inside - presumably for them to continue their conversation - but as soon as you waved goodbye, he made a beeline for you, stopping just a few inches away and towering over you.

Too close, you thought. Wait, were his eyes twinkling? It must’ve been the streetlamp, the lights outside were pretty dim.

"I would like to accompany you on your walk home."

His words threw you off because they were so unexpected. He had no reason to do so, after all. Shyly, you beamed at him and replied, "I'd appreciate it, Morpheus, but I wouldn't like to impose...weren't you meeting with the professor?"

Professor Gadling, who apparently was in earshot of your conversation, waved you away.

"No, it's fine, dear. Besides, a young lady such as yourself shouldn't be walking alone at night. I'll see you some other time, my friend," he added, winking at Morpheus, who just tilted his chin in reply.

The professor had a point. You lived nearby, that was true, but the streets weren't safe on a Friday night, especially at this hour. You chewed on the insides of your cheek, nervous at the fact that you have not had anyone walk you home in a long while.

It's just a walk home. It couldn't be that bad, could it?

"Okay."

You would come to regret your response.

***

Inwardly, Morpheus rejoiced at the thought of you lowering your guard with him. He motioned with a hand to let you lead the way, not that he needed it - in two weeks after your fateful encounter at the bakeshop he had gotten to know every little detail he needed to know about you, including where you lived, of course. He had seen the little apartment himself when you were out at work, and while it irked him that you had to live in such a humble abode, he knew through your dreams that you had filled the apartment with love and considered it your sanctuary. It wouldn't matter once he took you home to his kingdom as his lover - for you, he'd craft an entire palace carved in precious stones in the blink of an eye, and it would be your sanctuary, just as much as this tiny home.

He did a fine job, too, of luring you into the place his centuries-old friend now owned. It took him only one dream, planted during your boss’s deepest slumber, for you to get sent right where Morpheus wanted you to be. All this planning and you were right there, with him, just as the fates would have it.

He had to ask you tonight. He has waited long enough.

***

You were just a few blocks away from your apartment building when you finally gained the courage to break the awkward silence between you two.

"Thank you for walking me home," you said quietly as you eyed him sideways. Your eyes widened at the sight that greeted you: he had a genuine, warm smile on his face you'd never seen on him before, and if his demeanour is anything to go by, you knew this was a rarity.

He looked like a prince, even with his hair sticking out in all directions.

"It is I who should be thanking you for your kindness to me at that establishment," he spoke with conviction. "I have not forgotten."

Surprised, but overall glad that he remembered, you matched his expression as best you can and replied, "You're welcome."

Nothing was ever exchanged until you reached your apartment door, but he seemed to draw closer to you, your shoulders almost touching.

Your hand was already at the keys to the doorknob when you asked him if he wanted to come in.

"For tea, perhaps?" You added. "I couldn't help but notice you didn’t eat at dinner, so…”

It was a last-minute decision, seeing as he was kind enough to ensure you got home safely. He could do with a few biscuits, too, in your opinion, judging by his pallor and his refusal to eat anything at the pub.

There it was again - that captivating smile, but behind it, you see a flash of something else entirely. It was gone even before you could fully take it in, so you shrugged inwardly. The hallway’s lighting has always been too dark to see a damn thing.

“You need not concern yourself over me, I am much stronger than I look,” he said in a light, teasing tone. “However, your effort would be appreciated.”

“Oh, it’s no problem!” You waved him off and pushed the door open to your home. “I just hope you don’t mind tea without milk, I haven’t done any grocery shopping yet…”

Morpheus followed you inside, closing the door behind him, as you went off to your room to drop your bag on the bed and set up your laptop on your work desk. As soon as you got out of your room, you found him with his back to you, rummaging through the copies of the magazine you wrote for.

“Nothing interesting in those, I’m afraid. Still, not bad for a would-be writer, don’t you think?”

Chuckling to yourself, you made your way to the tiny kitchen to put the electric kettle to boil, then rummaged through the cupboards for a mug you were saving for when you had guests over. Not that you’ve ever had any - so far, he was the first you’ve had since you moved in.

“‘A would-be writer?’”

The proximity of his voice startled you, seeing as you thought he had still been reading back in the living room. It’s admittedly only a few steps away, but you hadn’t heard him approach. He was at the kitchen doorway, casting a long shadow in the dimly lit space. You had forgotten to turn the lights on, but it didn’t seem to bother him.

“You give yourself very little credit for such riveting work,” he said as he closed the distance between you. The kettle had just turned off by itself, so you concentrated on pouring the boiling water on the mug and dropping a Ceylon tea bag inside. Leaning on the tiled counter, you watched the tea leaves bleed into the water, turning it to a lovely amber colour.

“I don’t know about that -”

Your sentence was cut short as you felt his fingertips subtly stroke your elbow, giving you goosebumps all over your arm.

He’d gotten so close…

Scooping up the mug with both hands, you turn around to hand him the mug, only to find yourself inches away from him you almost spill the hot liquid on his woollen coat.

“Your writing has soul. I should know: I have read every word you have ever written.”

Blinking up at him, you saw him dip his head closer to yours as his pale, warm hands enclosed around yours, still holding the tea.

You were trembling, it seemed, but he stilled it.

“Th-thank you," you whispered, unable to avert your gaze from those piercing blue eyes that seemed to pin you to place, as was his tall, imposing form enclosing you between him and the kitchen counter. He was so close you could feel the heat emanating from him. "That means so much to me.”

Or was it the heat from your cheeks you felt?

Seemingly oblivious to your increasingly flustered state, Morpheus made a deliberate move to extricate the cup of tea from your grasp so he could set it back down behind you (it was probably already over-brewed, you thought), while you try to compose yourself and ignore his fingers softly grazing your knuckles. You didn't have much time, however, because the next thing you knew was those same hands cupping your cheeks and his soft lips brushing over yours in a chaste kiss that stole your breath completely.

You felt him release his hold on you, perhaps to observe your reaction. Perhaps, you could’ve pushed him away right there and then; screamed at him for touching you and thrown him out of your home; but you couldn’t summon your limbs to respond. He took your momentary lapse of judgement to crash his lips on yours once more - it was a more heated, more insistent kiss, and as if to seal you to him, his hands travelled to your back to encase you in an embrace and pushed you further into the counter.

This was wrong.

It was all your instincts could tell you. So you heeded them and pushed against the lapel of his coat with all your strength. It was like pushing against a wall, but you managed to wriggle free from his grasp, so you made an effort to put as much distance between you and him as your tiny kitchen would allow. You glanced immediately at his face to gauge his expression, and to your utter shock, his eyes had gone entirely black. One blink, and it was blue once more, maybe even a tad regretful.

It’s the lighting in this damn kitchen, you assured yourself.

“I understand I may have been too forward,” he began, “But I assure you, my intentions are pure. I have waited for this since our fateful meeting.” He took slow steps towards you, and unconsciously you backed away until your back hit the fridge. There was nowhere else to back into. He halted as soon as he sensed your guard up.

“Morpheus, it was just a loaf of bread, really…”

Morpheus’s eyes softened visibly at your words and simply continued, “And by that selfless act, you have saved me in more ways than you could ever understand. I have held you in my heart since, my precious little saviour.”

“I-I'm sure it's nothing...” you stammered.

“Allow me the honour of courting you, and in turn, you shall know of my gratitude, and my love, until the end of my days.”

Your heart sank at his declaration. Somehow, you knew in your heart he meant every word he said. You couldn’t have this, not when everything in your life was just starting to fall into place. You put on the kindest smile you could muster and spoke slowly as you chose the right words, hoping he wouldn’t be too downcast with what you were about to say to him.

“I'm sure you're a wonderful man, Morpheus. I just…I don't think I can make that commitment right now. I mean, I just met you, and all I know about you is that you’re Professor Gadling’s friend.”

“That can be rectified.”

You let out a sigh. This was going to be difficult, but you really didn’t like the idea of egging him on. “I know that, but…I don’t think I have time for that, you know?”

“How so?” he asked in a low voice, tilting his head slightly.

“It's been a struggle just to get to where I am today… I have my work, which I love, and for the first time in my life, I feel like I'm doing something right and…one wrong move could make me lose my footing. I’m sorry.”

Morpheus seemed unconvinced, taking a few steps forward to close that gap between you. “You need not worry yourself over such trivial matters. I know what you dream of. I can give you the recognition you deserve, the stability you crave and more… Come with me and I can show you.”

He offered an outstretched hand, urging you to take it. But if you were being honest, you just wanted to crawl into bed, the draft be damned. Exhaustion was starting to creep up on you.

“‘Come with you…?’ I'm sorry, please don't take this the wrong way, I'm sure you mean well…but-but-th-this isn't really a good time for this…” you stammered as you crossed your arms to make a point, which you hoped he’d finally take. “I think I'd like to be alone now, please. I-I have that…thing I want to finish, and it's getting late…I’m sorry, Morpheus. I really am.”

Morpheus’s hand lowered steadily, but all the softness he had in his expression was gone without a trace, replaced with cold, hard eyes and furrowed brows. The warmth you have loved your apartment for all but disappeared, replaced with a clammy air that seemed to come from…from him.

“You have no idea what you've just turned away…nor who I am, and what I can do,” came Morpheus’s voice, lowered to an unrecognisable timbre. “I will give you this final chance to amend your answer, my little saviour.”

“E-excuse me?” you said, fighting the urge to run away from him and hide. This was your home, you had no reason to. Who the hell was he to threaten you in your own home? “I'd like you to leave, please, or I'm calling the police…”

He was only a few feet away from you now, and the wind somehow grew stronger, you could feel its rough caress on your skin.

Sand.

The light in your kitchen turned on without a warning, and your eyes widened at the sight of the man you had so carelessly allowed into your home:

A dangerous man - now a being transforming right before you - with chilling black eyes, a heavy flurry of sand circling him, and waves of black smoke emanating from his growing form…

Paralyzed in utter fear, your heart pounding in your ears, all you could do was hold on to the fridge as you watched him approach your cowering form on the floor. Gone was that princely face you shared a gentle kiss with, replaced by a bony, skeletal mask with hollow cheekbones, his mouth contorted in a snarl that revealed razor-sharp fangs.

His voice echoed as he spoke, raspy and deafening:

“I am quite disappointed in you, my precious saviour. No matter: I am not unmerciful.” A pale hand, now with blackened, sharpened nails, made an appearance before you. “Take my hand, my beloved, and I shall forgive your error.”

In your terrified state, all you could muster was an adamant shake of your head.

This can’t be real. It couldn’t be.

“I’m dreaming, I'm-I’m dreaming this, this can’t be real, you’re no-not real…” hunched on the floor, hugging your legs, you muttered to yourself.

“Very well,” he thundered. “You have made your choice. ”

You would later discover just how real dreams could be, and that they weren’t that much different from the nightmares.

***

Morpheus released a small sigh as he watched you in your spherical compartment, deep in troubled slumber. He had not meant to frighten you that much with his nightmarish form. Admittedly, he could’ve done a much better job with reeling himself in, but the pain of your rejection felt to him like a thousand daggers being plunged into his heart. All he wanted was for you to be happy with him. He could’ve given you everything he had seen you dream of - he still could, but not before he heard from your sweet lips an admittance of your guilt, and a vow never to spurn him again.

He held the tiny sphere that contained your form in his palm and drew it closer to his face to get a better look at you. He had fashioned you a dress that brought out the colour of your eyes and soul: you looked ravishing, even in imprisonment. In his mind, he had played the memory of the kiss you had shared with him in your home a thousand times over. You were intoxicating, and the thought of kissing you again and finally marking your skin cemented his decision of keeping you in this space he crafted in his kingdom. You needed time to consider his proposal, that was to be expected. He would allow you the time you needed. All he had to do was assure you of your safety and well-being, seeing as scaring you even further might prolong his wait.

He knew you would wake soon, and he would explain his actions when you do. You would have no reason to refuse him, then.

***

You woke with a start, rubbing the sleep off your eyes, just to sit up and think.

You had lost count of the number of days you had spent in your glass enclosure, and there was nothing much to do except to observe your surroundings - nothing but a vast space, where distant stars glittered in the black tapestry that was space, with a single source of light in sight, like the sun, only that it offered no warmth. That, and to ruminate on the events that led you to this situation.

You remembered when you first came to, locked in this glorified cage. You still thought you were dreaming then, so you did everything you could to try waking yourself up, only none of it worked. That was when he appeared.

Dream of the Endless, he had called himself. The King of Dreams and Ruler of the Nightmare Realm.

He claimed to rule the place he had taken you to, which he called the Dreaming. He had then explained that everything humanity (‘your kind,’ you recalled him saying) had ever dreamed of in its sleep was as real as everything it sees, hears, and feels in its waking hours and that he presided over them since the first living creature dreamed, and will do so until the end of all life.

He had revealed that he had watched over you, your dreams and your waking hours, since your first meeting, and that he had not meant to scare you, only that he wished for you to accept his advances.

That was the first of his many attempts to get you to say ‘yes.’

He would ask in many ways: a long walk in this garden he called the Fiddler’s Green; a sumptuous dinner in one of his many grand halls; an adventurous tryst in one of the humans’ dreams. He had promised that if you agreed to be courted by him and be with him, he would take you out of your enclosure and release you, allow you to roam his kingdom as his lover, forever wanting nothing and lavishing in all the riches and trinkets he could offer.

From then, you knew you would never be allowed back into the life you had worked so hard to build, humble as it may have been.

At first, your response to his attempts of coaxing you into a relationship with him was a string of incoherent curses and screaming. After a while, they were plain ignored - his face would remain blank every time, if not a tad disappointed, or hurt.

You didn’t care.

But you were also lying if you said it hadn’t worn out your resolve. This day was one of them.

You missed food. Not that you were ever hungry - he had removed hunger from you in your imprisonment. He had given you the gift of dreamless sleep as well, but in your time alone with nothing to do except wake and sleep, you’d give almost anything to have dreams again. You had no other company except him and the vast, endless space beyond your cage that he had conjured for you. You being sealed away from everything was driving you closer to insanity every day, and that was his design: to make you desperate enough to submit to his will.

Without warning, your hair stood at the back of your neck, your senses on high alert.

Dream of the Endless had arrived.

“My precious little saviour,” he greeted in that deep, velvety voice you had grown to hate and find comfort in at the same time. “I have come for you.”

Your captor had a warm smile on his regal features, one that didn’t match his true intentions. You stared at him with a blank expression and let his greeting go unanswered.

“Will you join me for a walk in my garden?”

He kept his eye contact with you as he waited for your response. It unnerved you to no end, the way he held your gaze with those ocean-blue eyes of his, knowing a single ‘no’ from you would instantly turn it to the black ones you have known to fear. When you opened your mouth to speak, it actually hurt your throat - you hadn’t spoken in a long time.

“Will you be locking me up again, after?”

He grinned at you and tilted his head slightly. “If you behave and do as I say, I will not.”

Only a single tear that escaped from your eye betrayed that gnawing feeling of defeat in your gut. Finally swallowing whatever pride you had left, you made a decision.

“Yes.”

You should never have bought him that damned loaf of bread.

***

Just a little one-shot I wanted to write to get myself out of a writing rut I've been stuck with wanting Comatose to be perfect it stressed me out too much :// I will still work on it, I promise! I just need to get this out the way to get my writing mojo back :D

PART II here!!!!

Thank you for reading!!!! Please engage and all that it's really appreciate iiiit

***

#dark!dream x reader #dark!dream x you #dark!morpheus fic #dark!morpheus x you #dark!morpheus x reader #dark!dream oneshot #dark!dream of the endless #dark!morpheus fanfic #the sandman #the sandman fanfiction

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writethrough · 6 months

Text

I need Morpheus fic recs. I’m in a mood and want to read about my favorite anthropomorphic being.

Tagging the babes for a little extra help.😁

@7-wonders @steph-speaks

#morpheus x fem!reader #morpheus oneshot #morpheus headcanons #morpheus fanfiction #morpheus imagine #morpheus x reader #morpheus imagines #morpheus fanfic #morphues #morpheus angst #morpheus fluff

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darkk-academic · 1 year

Text

Tease

[Part I] [Part II] [Part III] [Part IV] [Part V]

[Morpheus x F!Reader]

Summary : Morpheus teaches you the craft of sculpting dream.

Warnings : None.

"Let me teach you."

You have been trying to adapt to your role as a dream-shaper, but all in vain.

How can anyone expect you to just be good at it?

How can he? The King of Dreams.

You were human one moment and bam! A man—ethereal in his beauty—comes knocking, spouting out about shapers, and dreams, and nightmares, and suddenly, you are nothing you thought you were.

Still. Still, you tried.

For weeks, you tried to adapt yourself to life in the dreaming—not that he was any help at all—bless Lucien and Matthew for being so understanding.

And what did he do?

Snapped at you.

Why?

Because you weren't an adept shaper in three weeks.

You're just so…so overwhelmed.

And now, now he comes after two months of silence, proclaiming he'll teach you.

He stands tall in the empty training room inside the Dream castle—the one the Dreaming itself constructed for you—looking sublime in his entirety.

The sunshine filters through the stained-glass window, changing colours, shining down on him.

The fetching view does nothing to quell your anger.

"No, thanks," you scoff.

Deliberately obvious in your ignorance of his gaze, you start to walk around him, towards the door.

Nimble fingers curl around your wrist, halting your escape.

"I have been made aware of your troubles," he starts, voice a touch hesitant, like he isn't quite sure of his words. "I must elucidate that my intention had not been one of malice, nor was it my desire to wound your heart so."

You swallow hard. He makes it so hard to stay angry. How does he do that?

"I'm trying," you say. "I truly am." You turn, peering up at him. "But it's so hard, and it's awful every time I fail. I can't measure up to—" your voice cracks.

Tears finally escaping the cage.

Morpheus draws himself closer to you. Hand coming up, he cups your face, thumb brushing under your eye.

"It is I who should be trying. It is entirely my responsibility. And I apologise for I have failed you."

There's shame in his eyes, it tugs at your heart.

"If you can find it in yourself to let me amend my mistake. Kindly, let me teach you."

"I'm still not hearing I'm sorry in that speech." Pretty eyes or not, does he think he can avoid that by his eloquent speech? Nuh huh, tears in eyes, snark on lips, that's you.

For a split second, he appears baffled, but then he nods. Bowing his head slightly, he looks at you. "I apologise for the distress I have caused you, I, with no protest, take complete accountability of my… impetuousness."

You offer him a silent stare, wanting him to squirm under your gaze the way everyone does under his, but all he does is quirk a questioning brow.

Clearing your throat, you glance away. "Apology accepted."

"And… the lessons?"

Lessons from him might just be what you need. Who can teach the craft of dreams better than the Dream King?

Gaze flicking in his direction, you flash him a small smile. "And lessons."

•••

You take it back.

You don't need lessons from him.

Not because he is a terrible teacher, quite the opposite, in fact, he's absolutely terrific.

You, on the other hand…

You are a poor excuse for a student.

A student with a pathetic, hopeless crush on him.

"Morpheus, I don't need your lessons," you practise. Nodding at yourself.

And then you enter the training room with a deep fortifying breath.

Your breath leaves in a whoosh.

The windows on one side are wide open today, letting the golden sunshine in. It entangles along the lining of Morpheus's skin, it's as though he's sun sewn into being.

This is torture.

"Hello," you say, voice hoarse.

He turns to you, inclining his head in greeting.

"We will be shaping a dream—"

"Morpheus," you cut him off.

He pauses. "Yes?"

Morpheus, I don't need your lessons.

Inhaling sharply, you push yourself to speak. "I—this…that is—"

Sensing your distress, with long strides, he closes the distance between you two.

His eyes go soft as they peer down at you. "Is something the matter?"

Morpheus, I don't need your lessons.

Lips parting, dumbfounded, you stare at him.

Calling your name, his hand hovers near your face. "Is there something you wish to say?"

Morpheus, I don't need your lessons.

"Morpheus, I need you," you blurt out. Mortified, your eyes widen. "Lessons! Your lessons, that is." You nod vigorously. "I need your lessons."

"I said as much," he replies. Walking towards the centre of the room, he peers at you over his shoulder. "Come."

"What?"

He quirks a brow. "To shape the dream."

"Oh," you sigh. "Of course, to shape the dream."

Dreaming, if you love me, open the ground beneath and let me sink. Please.

•••

You're going to combust.

Standing with your back to Morpheus's front, his hands stretched straight along with yours, fingers twining with yours, open palm sculpt the base of the dream.

Well, trying—

"To bring a dream to life, you must feel," Morpheus explains. "Envision the heat of your emotions rising, can you?"

You feel it, the heat of his breath at your nape. Your fingers twitch the wrong way.

—And failing.

His hand comes up to curl around your neck. "Focus," he commands.

His fingers graze your bare arm as his hand trails down to its previous position.

Sweet lord…

"—are you quite alright?"

You blink, flushing red. "I—I'm sorry, what were you saying?"

"It appears you are having some trouble hearing."

"Oh yes," you agree, anything to escape embarrassment. "Maybe the room is feeling mischievous today?"

Which could very well be true. The dreaming in its entirety is conscious, and has a habit of playing with its inhabitants.

He hums, the vibrations reverberate from his chest to yours.

You want to bang your head against a wall.

"Very well. I will accommodate you better, then."

Say what.

Something soft brushes near your ear, making you jump.

Morpheus's hand squeezes yours assuring. You still.

His chin comes to rest on your shoulder. Silken hair brushes the side of your cheek, you bite your lip to keep a gasp down.

"Alright?" He whispers by your ear, a tingling arises there, warm and caressing it trickles over to the line of your throat, down to your heart, and lower still to your belly.

You suppress a shudder.

"Mhm," the sound that leaves your mouth is akin to a wounded puppy's whine. Your eyes dart around, desperate to find something to distract you from the ever rising heat.

You catch sight of Morpheus and you in the window. The image of it does not help your case, him and you pressed together, his hands coverings yours give the impression of him caging you in—

Please…

And then you see.

The slight curl of Morpheus's lips.

Oh.

He knows what he's doing.

Letting your gaze go hooded, you turn your head towards him. Nose grazing his cheek, you push your back into him ever so slightly.

His breath hitches.

Teasing, your lips brush the corner of his as you rasp, "Alright?"

Game on.

………………………………………………………………………

A/N :

Wanted to see whether I could write chemistry between two people.

Not sure if there's chemistry in this one or not.

Hope you guys enjoyed this.

Thankyou! ❤️

#morpheus x you #morpheus x reader #the sandman x reader #the sandman x you #dream of the endless x you #dream of the endless x reader #the sandman #lord morpheus #dream of the endless #the sandman oneshot #the sandman imagine

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astralstarlight · 2 years

Text

pairing: morpheus x reader

summary: morpheus apologises to you (kind of)

word count: 1.1k+

Morpheus–prideful creature that he is–does not seek you out at first. He can still picture your teary eyes and angry words in retort to him dismissing your ideas. It’s not that he doesn’t know he’s insulted you in some way, but apologising is a whole different matter. An apology means admitting that he’s done something wrong. An apology is the last thing on his mind right now.

That’s what he thinks and that’s what his mind settles on. He’s satisfied for the moment, until he nearly walks past your statue-like form in between one of the bookshelves of the library. You’re deep in thought, fingers tracing the spines of the books on the shelf one by one, searching. One of your arms is already wrapped around a dangerously tall stack of books. You’re still helping him look for information, even though he’s brushed you off. A strange constricting feeling settles in his chest.

He’s certain that if he was close enough, he could hear you muttering the alphabet under your breath, trying to remember exactly where the book you’re looking for is held. He’s been staring for much too long, but you still haven’t looked up at him yet. He moves to leave. If you wanted to talk to him, you would have by now. It’s been two weeks after all. Two whole weeks of radio silence from your end. It’s almost like you’ve disappeared into the cracks of the library.

Morpheus has seen Lucienne look at him almost pityingly over the past few days, although she absolutely divulges no information about your location since he hasn’t asked. But Morpheus absolutely will not ask, thank you very much. He’s been content in inquiring about you over the two weeks, asking if you were well, and Lucienne has simply told him that you were. And there hadn’t been any real reason to not believe her. But seeing you now, even from a distance, is different.

You look tired, blinking fatigue out of your eyes and they’re ever so slightly puffy. Perhaps he should conjure up more comfortable spaces in the library for you to sleep in. He knows you’ve been spending all your time here, because he has yet to hear Lucienne tell him that you’re out of the library when he asks.

“Morpheus?”

He flinches at the formal tone in your voice. Morpheus’ eyes scan your form one more time, before meeting your gaze. You don’t look impressed at all – one eyebrow raised and your free hand now relaxing on top of the stack of books, facing him completely.

You sigh. “If you’re looking for Lucienne, she’s further down that way.” You point to the right, turning your attention away from Morpheus.

“I’ve already spoken to Lucienne.” He speaks calmly, not a single tone betraying the nervousness he feels at all.

You stiffen, eyes still drawn to the books on the shelves, blinking furiously. “Well,” you glance towards him again. “I suppose I’ll move out of the way so you can find what you’re looking for.” Despite the neutral tone you try to use to pull yourself together, your voice cracks at the end of the sentence and your eyes are almost misty, trailed onto the floor in front of you.

No.

You curl your form around your armful of books, stepping past Morpheus quickly. And he knows immediately, knows that if he doesn’t say something now, then he might never get the chance to again. And if this final opportunity is lost then–

“Wait.”

To his surprise you stop in your tracks, but you’re still looking down towards the floor, avoiding his gaze at all costs. Your breathing has become shaky and uneven. You take a deep breath in, eyes closed, before looking directly at him. “Did you need something else?”

“Yes.” You. He shuffles his feet and it makes you want to burst out into laughter. He looks so awkward, so clearly out of his comfort zone, that you can almost immediately guess what he’s finally got the courage to speak to you about. The hesitation in his words speaks volumes, along with a slight chill settling around the library as the sun begins to set earlier than it usually does. Inner torment. The Dreaming follows suit with his emotions, and it’s become a lot easier to read him since you’ve realised that. He speaks before you can. “It was wrong of me to deny your ideas so viciously.”

The last rays of sunlight trickle through the windows, catching the inescapable fleeting pieces of dust in its grasp, surrounding your form. You look almost ethereal like this, especially once your eyes soften and your lips break into a half-hearted smile. The start of forgiveness. Although, to be fair, he would describe you as ethereal under any sort of lighting. He watches as your eyes harden and you almost turn away once again. “Your way worked in the end anyways, didn’t it? So, why bother–”

“Because I hurt you.”

The words stop you in your tracks, and you pause. Interruptions while you’re speaking are rare and Morpheus has always been polite, waiting for you to finish your ramblings before he gathers his thoughts together. He listens, and he remembers well. He steps closer to you, watching you for any kind of discomfort. Morpheus cautiously reaches out his hand to tuck a stray piece of hair behind your ear. If you leaned forward just a little, you would be right up against him. Too bad that the books clutched in your hands set up a sort of barrier between the two of you. “I hurt you and I wish to reconcile that. It may not always seem like it, but I value your opinion and thoughts.”

“Morpheus.” You say at last, eyes gazing up at him fondly. The light is so, so bright on your skin. “I know.”

He straightens up a little, and you hadn’t even noticed he’d been moping and dragging his feet along the floor this whole time. His hands come up to grasp over yours under the books, tugging them out of your hands. You let out a noise of protest, but Morpheus doesn’t stop his actions. Whatever it was could wait. Whatever it was could not possibly be more important than him making up for lost time with you; right here and right now.

Cold fingers brush your chin, tilting it upward to meet his gaze. He’s smiling. It’s the small smile that crosses his lips whenever he becomes pleasantly surprised or satisfied, but you’re not really able to look at it for too long because Morpheus–sometimes painfully awkward, and still trying to figure out how love with you works–leans down and presses his lips against yours. And well, you’re not really thinking too much of anything else after that.

#morpheus x reader #morpheus x you #dream x reader #dream x you #the sandman oneshot #— alathea writes #please help he's been on my mind for the past two weeks #umm hello thank you for so many interactions with this HAHA #i was really only expecting a couple people but <3

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