In Another Universe

Mini-Series: Part 6/?

Truth, Kisses and Getting Fucked Up

Pairing: Morpheus x Fem!Reader

Story: Dancing With The Devil (Alternate path from the end of part 2 of the story onwards)

Warnings: Third Person. Will Mostly Be Referred To As She (Called Y/N When Her Nickname Is Being Used and Will Occasionally Be Called By Her 'Angel' Name). A Short Version Of Her Life Story. Angst. Loneliness. MAJOR DADDY ISSUES. Death (not the Endless). Mention Of Kidnapping. Grief. Things Get A Bit Heated. Profanity. Shit Kicks Off. Mentions Of Violence Against Kids. Violence and Fighting. Morpheus Is Rendered Useless. Her Kids Are Threatened. She Gets Fucked Up (as the title says). Morpheus Panics?.

Word Count: 3.6k

A/N: Major Spoilers for the Story (Klaus Mikaelson fic), like this existing spoils the mystery of who my character is as well as her character arc.

This is also being posted to my Wattpad.

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Her loose hair ruffles in the gentle breeze, cooling her unnaturally warm skin as she sits on the sofa of her room's balcony, fiddling nervously with her fingers trying to figure out where to start.

"You're under no obligation to talk to me about what ails you."

"I know. I want to tell you, it's just a long and painful story." Her knee brushes against Morpheus's as she stands up, leaning against the railing and digging her blunt nails into her palms. "I guess I'll start at the beginning."

And she does.

She starts with how her father created a soulmate for all of his children as a reward for being loyal to him and how excited she and her sibling were. How quickly that excitement disappeared when all of her siblings found their soulmates, except for her, Raphael and her twin brother Michael. Her father's most loyal children, their soulmates nowhere to be seen. How it stayed that way for too many years to count and how lonely that made her and her brothers.

Until Michael found his soulmate and how everything changed, but not for the better. She recalls the day it happened and how she covered for Michael, who kept neglecting his duties to see her, to see Aurelia. Who was an extremely powerful seer, like no being had ever seen before, and who her father wanted dead. As to why she didn't know and she wouldn't for a very long time. So she protected her twin and his soulmate, did his duties as well as her own, and covered for him when her father called for a private meeting. Taking it upon herself to attend the meeting herself, not knowing it would be her downfall.

It didn't happen straight away. It was ever so slow, digging deeper and deeper into her thoughts. Until one day, something came over her. Consumed her in her entirety until she snapped. She rebelled against her father. And she almost won. Almost.

Losing the war cost her everything. Her home, her siblings and her parents. Her father despised her and punished her mother for supporting her, locking her away in the prison Y/N was sent to rule over. And she didn't even know. She thought her mother abandoned her and hated her like the rest of her family did. And once again. She wouldn't find out the truth for a long, long time.

So she excepted her new duties. Rather begrudgingly. And, in turn, caused as much chaos as she could. Hoping desperately that whatever she did next would grab her father's attention, without much luck. Until she did, but not in the way she wanted. She did something she knew would anger her father. Something she had been avoiding doing as she didn't know what would happen, something she sometimes wished she never did, if only to stop her future agony. But she was ultimately glad she did as it allowed her to finally see who her father really was, and not the loving facade he made everyone believe was the real him. She would do it again. She would make immortality again.

Even if the cost was him cursing her. With what a lot of people would consider a good thing, and she would agree. It could be a good thing for a lot of people. Which she knew as she had given plenty of people that very gift. But it wasn't good for her. Her circumstances made resurrection very bad for her.

All of her previous chaos causing came back to bite her in the ass.

All the supernatural creatures she made. They were all drawn to her. But, unfortunately for her, she was mortal. Many thought their hunger was drawing them to her, and they killed her. This became even more of a regular occurrence when a powerful witch, Esther Mikaelson, used the immortality spell she had created to change her children into vampires. Including Niklaus, who, due to her curse, she grew up with. Who she loved and who loved her back until her untimely death at Esther's hands.

She never got to live past the age of thirty after vampires started to roam the earth. Not that humans were letting her live into old age or anything, but that was humans for you. She never expected much of humanity, even when she lived amongst them. It was one of the many reasons she never really made friends with the humans. She also didn't want to get attached and inevitably die on them. So the only friends she made were the immortal kind, one being Niklaus's younger brother, Kol, who she was able to meet up with every now and then, to the point where they had their own way of communicating as well as a code word so she could let him know it was her.

Part of the curse was the inability to talk about anything to do with it or who she was with anyone who didn't have pre-existing knowledge of the subject.

Something that became exhausting to deal with after two thousand+ years, so she ended up doing a lot of stupid things to cope with the seemingly endless pain she felt.

Eventually, she ended up in what would be her last life. She became Celeste Gilbert, the older sister of Elena and Jeremy Gilbert. Who was caught up in the supernatural world she created, not that they knew that even to this day. It was an okay life. She lived comfortably for the most part, even if the only people who liked her were Jeremy and the deceased aunt Jenna. Who, unfortunately, died at the hands of Niklaus, who was breaking his curse. Which was the beginning of the end for Y/N, or rather Celeste.

She ended up being dragged into the supernatural when Niklaus kidnapped her and took her on a road trip across America to find werewolves to turn into hybrids like him.

She knew something was up when they were on that trip. She knew she was missing something. And eventually, after arriving back in her home town, dealing with family drama and nearly getting killed by Niklaus's father, Mikael. She figured it out. They were soulmates. And it changed everything.

They embraced their bond. And for a while, things were incredible. Until Silas came. The first immortal, the lover of Qetsiyah, the woman she created the immortality spell for, was woken up. She talks about how he killed Jeremy and how her little brother's death broke her. She talks about much he tormented the people she cared about. How much he tortured Niklaus, and how scared the hybrid was for her life. Because, at that point, he knew about her curse and most of what it entailed, and he couldn't stand the thought of losing her.

But he did. Silas targeted and fatally wounded her, so she barely had time to say goodbye to her soulmate and reassure him that they'd see each other again one day. Except they wouldn't. She didn't know it at that moment. But she had broken the curse, or she should have. The only one who could pull her out of it, her father, had disappeared the second the curse had taken hold of her. So her siblings didn't have a choice. They had to pull her out as best they could. The Fates willed it. They knew if her siblings were given a choice, they would have left her in the curse, and the Fates couldn't have that, as her children had to be born.

The eldest, Evie, would be born and raised in Hell with her, and the youngest, Hope, would be born and raised by Hayley Marshall. A werewolf Celeste had befriended when she went to college in New York and who she reunited with in Mystic Falls, where Celeste had grown up.

So for the next few years, she waited. She bided her time, waiting for the day she would be with her soulmate and youngest daughter. She waited patiently in her prison, pulling strings and helping the Mikaelson family with their problems, earning herself the name 'the friend on the other side'. Watching from a distance as Hope grew older, Evie eventually watched with her, begging her to let her go meet her sister.

So she talked to Michael and made a deal. Evie could go to the Salvatore school for the supernatural, where her sister goes, but she couldn't tell anyone who she is; or who her real parents are. And so she was alone again. She watched from the shadows as her daughters became friends, became inseparable. For years.

And then the Hollow came. An ancient spirit who wanted to use Hope as a host. The Mikaelsons found a way to keep the Hollow away from Hope, but it meant they couldn't be near her. Niklaus couldn't be near her, so for years, it was just Hope and Evie in Mystic Falls, Hayley in New Orleans and Y/N scouring the world for a way for the Mikaelsons to defeat the Hollow. It caused quite a mess, resulting in Hayley's death. Though not for long, because as a hybrid, a supernatural creature, her soul came under the responsibility of Y/N, who gave her a choice. Stay dead, or live again but as one of her Demons. And so she chose to live again.

She couldn't help but wonder that if things had gone differently, she might have found something to defeat the Hollow. She had no way of knowing now. She honestly didn't even think she wanted to know. But if her father hadn't come back, hadn't played nice, and made her and her siblings believe they could be a family again. If she had realised that all he wanted to do was distract her. So she wouldn't be able to stop him. So Niklaus would die, taking the Hollow with him. Maybe Niklaus would have lived. And she wouldn't have fought her father, and Niklaus would still be her soulmate. Would her father have ripped away their soulmate bond? Would he have thrown it as far away as he possibly could without caring where or if it would land on anyone?

She can't help but ask herself as she recalls her denial. Not believing her father had taken him from her, she did the one thing she was never supposed to be able to do. She went home. She remembers how quickly she flew towards Heaven and the intense thunder and lightning that appeared as she got closer. How quickly her flesh burned and how slowly she healed. And most of all, she remembers seeing Niklaus again and how he didn't recognise who she was. He couldn't feel who she was. He didn't know she was the one he had spent the last sixteen years waiting for. How much that broke her, and how much she wanted her father to pay.

Y/N looks out at The Dreaming, staying silent as she lets her life story sink in for Morpheus, wondering if telling him was a mistake as she felt it had to be obvious who she was in her universe.

Morpheus stands, walking up next to her and resting his hands on the railing, "I understand why it's important for you to find your father."

She chuckles, "That's all you took from that?"

"I took many things. Your father is the most relevant at this time."

"I guess..." she sighs and looks at Morpheus. Taking in his features and the compassion on his face as he observes his realm. His brows furrow as a thought crosses his mind. "Ask."

He meets her eyes, "The soulmate bond, how does it work?"

"It chooses the person most compatible for the individual."

"Your father created it. But doesn't control it?"

She shakes her head, "No. Probably the one good thing he's done." She turns her body to face him, Morpheus mirroring her actions. "But that's not what you wanted to ask."

"No," Morpheus searches her face, "It landed on me, didn't it?"

"Yes, it did." She grabs his hand where it rests on the railing, "Are you okay with that?"

Morpheus offers her a soft smile, raising his free hand and resting it under her jaw, his thumb tracing it. He dips his head, stopping a breath away from her lips, his gaze flicking between her eyes and lips as he lets her decide if she wants what he does.

She doesn't hesitate. Both of their eyes flutter shut as she presses her lips against his. She grabs his face with both hands, heat lighting up every nerve in their bodies.

He grabs her hip, pulling her flush against his chest, his fingers digging into her flesh as he moves his hand from her jaw to the back of her neck and threads his fingers through her hair. Their lips move in sync as he deepens the kiss, their tongues intertwining. One of her hands shifts to his hair, pulling on the silky locks and making him groan. Morpheus pulls back from her lips and leans down to press kisses against her neck, enjoying her moans as he nibbles on her skin.

She pulls on his hair, forcing his head back so; he's looking at her and gives him a soft peck on the lips. She grabs his hand, leading him into her room and over to her bed. He presses himself against her back, brushing her hair off her shoulder to press his lips against her neck again. Her head rests against his shoulder, letting his take control for a moment before she grabs his arm and, using her strength, manoeuvres him onto the bed. She winks at him as he stares at her in shock, looking at her with excitement she's never seen before in his eyes. His hands go back to her hips as she climbs onto his lap and brings him into a kiss.

A slam makes her jump.

She breaks away from the Dream Lord to see Raphael barge through the door.

"Luci? Have you seen... Oh, fuck off!" Raphael slams his hands over his eyes.

Y/N sighs, falling onto the bed next to Morpheus. "What do you want, Raph?"

"Lucienne's looking for both of you." He peeks through his fingers, dropping his hands when he sees they've separated. "She seems worried."

Morpheus rises to his feet, "What happened?"

"I don't know, she didn't say."

Morpheus extends a hand towards Y/N, pulling her up from the bed when she takes it and leads her out of the room, following behind Raphael.

They enter the library, following the sound of Matthew and Lucienne's voices.

"Lucienne? What happened?" Y/N asks as they turn the corner to see her frantically flipping through a book.

"It's blank!" Caw! Matthew replies instead of the librarian.

"Blank?" Morpheus squeezes Y/N's hand, a sinking feeling in his stomach.

Lucienne looks up from the book, "The child. The one belonging to Daisy, whose dream you investigated and found your father in," her eyes flicker between Lord Morpheus and Y/N, "she's no longer dreaming."

Y/N stiffens, not liking what that could imply. She looks at Morpheus, "What do we do?"

He looks at her before grabbing the book from Lucienne, "We go to her last dream and find out what happened."

She lets go of Morpheus's hand, "I'll grab my sword."

Let's hope I don't need it. She thinks as she runs into her room, grabs her sword and rushes back to the library. Morpheus only just finishing examining the lack of content in the book by the time she gets back. "Ready when you are."

Raphael touches her arm as she stops next to him, "Are you sure about this?" he whispers to his sister, "The state of his realm and subjects isn't our problem."

She steps away from her brother, "It is if we have something to do with it. If Father has something to do with it." She waits for him to nod and walks the short distance to Morpheus. She grabs his extended hand and ignores the shiver that goes down her spine at his touch, the sensation more intense now that they're embracing their bond. She hopes that she'll get used to the feeling one day.

The sand obscures her sight of the library and then dissipates, revealing the park they visited in Daisy's dream. But different, as it was being viewed through the eyes of a child. She looks around at the bright scenery, the vibrant colours of the park swirling together like a Van Gogh painting as she slowly turns on the spot, trying to take in as much as she can at that moment. She stops, facing Morpheus again as he fondly takes in her joy. "Does every child's dream look like this?"

He nods, "Yes. At least, they should."

The smile on her face drops slightly as she grows solemn, remembering all the times she witnessed and experienced firsthand how much children should suffer at the hands of humanity.

"Where's the kid?"

They both scan their surroundings, quickly realising that there's no one around. Not a single person.

The hairs on the back of her neck stand on end, making her roll her shoulder as she tenses. She draws her sword, exchanging a look with Morpheus as their surroundings ripple and darken. The swirls of colour and life she had been admiring a mere moment ago rot away, turning grey and black. A breeze sends a shiver down her spine. Whispers fill the dark. Her ears strain to understand what they're saying when she feels it. That pain. She grips the sword with both hands, preparing herself.

She swings. A wave of power explodes from the hand it collides with. Her father's hand.

Her grins cruelly at her, a look of madness in his eyes that she had only seen a few times in her long life. Her father lunges at her, his hands reaching for the sword.

She's vaguely aware of Morpheus as he realises what's happening. Who she's fighting. And how little he can help.

Y/N spins out of her father's way, swinging her sword in his direction. He blocks it, hitting the blade with a strength she had forgotten he possessed, so used to seeing him make others do his dirty work. She fights her panic as he comes towards her, making eye contact with Morpheus over her father's shoulder as she leads him away from the Dream Lord. Whose eyes scream with his panic, the Endless struggling against an invisible wall, making her realise her father had trapped him in place. Which would explain why he wasn't using his powers against her. He was using most of it on the dream and Morpheus.

"Something wrong, child?" He chuckles. His voice grating, like nails on a chalkboard.

She growls, her canines elongating and her eyes turning blood red in response to his taunt. Time slows as she swings her blade, her father grinning as his hand comes up to meet it, but rather than deflecting it, he grabs it between his palms so, the edge doesn't cut him, no doubt because he had sensed the spell Evie had put on the blade. She doesn't even have time to blink before he's backhanding her across the face, her grip on the sword loosening enough for her father to rip it from her grasp. And drive the blade through her stomach.

"Y/N!!" He cries, a boom echoing across reality as the Dream Lord's power regains control of the dream. The surrounding scenery ripples and then slowly returns to its previous state.

Morpheus's voice is faint to her despite its power. She chokes; on her breath as she feels the sword's power flow through her, attacking her every cell. She looks down at where it protrudes from her stomach, taking in the white veins flashing under her skin as she grabs the sword's blade.

Her father's breath brushes against her face as he leans in to whisper in her ear, "Your children are next."

Red, blinding rage fills her body and fogs her mind. Hope. Evie. No. A gust of wind knocks against her and her father as her power surges to the surface, her head lifting to meet his gaze, and ignoring the pain, she thrusts her leg into his chest, a brief look of shock crossing her father's face before he surges backwards, disappearing from her sight, the sword going with him. She collapses to the ground, fire burning more intensely under her skin as the sword's power lingers, attacking her power, her life force.

"Shh, shh. You're okay. You're okay."

It's not until Morpheus's arms wrap around her that she realises she's screaming. She falls into his embrace, trying to control her breathing as she looks at the bright sky. The sound of people's laughter reaches her ears, the dream restored to what it should be now that her father's influence is gone.

Morpheus cups her face with his hand, white veins continuously flashing under the surface of her skin, almost blinding him as he meets her eyes, tears escaping them as he watches the fear grip her. He looks down at her wound, his hand following his sight. His hand shakes as it hovers over her injury. Not sure if the lack of blood is a good thing; or a bad thing.

"Raph..." she whispers, catching his attention once again.

He cradles her to his chest, nodding frantically and summoning his sand to take her to her brother. She falls limp in his arms, passing out as they materialise in the Ghost Library, and ignoring his confusion at why they were there as he screams, "RAPHAEL!!"

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Thanks for reading!

Morpheus is intrigued

Part II

The smell of your arousal must have been the cause. That's all he could say to defend his actions.

"Hello starlight," you jumped out of bed, your face hot with embarrassment.

"Morpheus," He noted how shrill your voice went. How you clenched your legs together. He noticed how you had inched far from the bed aswell.

"It seems you are in-"

"Nothing! absolutely nothing," you shaky legs howwver denyed you the pleasure of walking as you stumbled back from the bed. Morpheus on a hunch entered your thoughts. He was well....intrigued.

To see a retreating imagery of him in you fucking your brains out.

"Tell me starlight, do you want my help?" Morpheus was in love with you, you knew this, you were in love with him too but you were scared.

A mortal and an Endless.

So you always kept him close but not too close. As you stared into his eyes you wondered.

This could change everything...

Do I want to change everything.

No.

Maybe

Fuck yes

You bit your lip.

Yes.

"I want more than your help Morpheus," His eyes glimmered. He knew what you meant. He knelt down and took up your hand in his. Kissing it softly he smiled.

><

"It would be my honor," He pulled you towards him keeping eye contact.

He leans in and you feel yourself float as his lips gently graze yours. He kisses you so softly it feels like a dream. You notice how brighter the sky becomes through your lashes. A small smile crosses your lips. You bring him closer and sink into the kiss.

"I promise to give you the world in the palm of your hand. The stars dangling of you like jewelery, everything and everyone bowing at your presence, just say the word" he said.

And you knew he meant it

Morpheus got me Feral bro i need a sabbaticals of two weeks to properly write the smut bro cus i keep sidelining and avoiding. My brain moves faster than my fingers. Y'all be patient for me yeah. I promise I'll write you proud. Also if you want something custom check my asks and dms <333

Mrs. Black signing off <333

fire on fire | chapter. 03 | morpheus x scarlet witch!reader

pairing: Morpheus x Scarlet Witch!Reader (she/her) summary: The Lord of Dreams falling in love with a being capable of spontaneous creation – what could possibly go wrong? note: You are not Wanda Maximoff. You’re just you who happens to be the Scarlet Witch and all that entails. previous chapter: chapter. 01 | chapter. 02 a/n: no beta we die like jessamy

Sat on his throne, overlooking the heart of his palace, Morpheus has never felt so small – so without power. The King of Dreams and Nightmares they called him and yet he was bested by a bumbling amateur with a delusion of grandeur, seeking to prevent that is which is the most natural thing in existence and as a result has committed a graver offense. He has half a mind to demand his sister relinquish Roderick Burgess to him so that he may throw the mortal on his knees before you and beg for your forgiveness.

He felt his heart swell at the mere thought of you, his sweet Y/N. His mind at ease and free of thoughts of mortal men and their greed for what they do not deserve. Such were the effects you had on him. Perhaps it should be a concern that you had such sway over a sovereign and in extension his realm – yet the Dream Lord could not bring himself to care for why would you seek to possess what already belongs to you? You possessed all of him and all that entailed.

“My Lord,” The courteous voice of his librarian pulled Morpheus out of his musings, “If I may ask…” He looked over to see Lucienne shifting uncertainly at the bottom of his throne, a thick volume clutched against her as she peered over her spectacles, “Now that you have recovered your tools of power as well as have reunited with her ladyship, where do we go from here?”

“Nowhere for the time being.” Morpheus stated simply and in a tone that brokered no argument, “I endeavour to heal with my love and rebuild my realm.”

The silence from his subject was telling but Morpheus waited to hear it himself, “And…what of the prophecy, my lord?”

Lucienne could only blink as her king disappeared in a swirl of sand and materialize before her in a matter of a millisecond, towering over her with his face a picture of the calm before a storm. “Know that I am fond of you Lucienne, but I will not hear more of this damned prophecy.” He declared in a low growl, head tilting slightly to the side, “Y/N will one day be your Queen, and nothing will ever change that.”

“I do not seek to change that or sow doubt in you, your grace, however we have to acknowledge the consequences of your union.” This placated the Endless slightly, leaning back to reward her loyalty with some distance from him, “Your…siblings will not stand for it. Perhaps her grace Death, but the rest will attempt to either claim the Scarlet Witch for themselves or seek to destroy her.”

The Scarlet Witch was but one facet of you and yet it seems to be the only thing that mattered to others outside of him – as if that was the only thing you were. As if the fact that you were, perhaps, the most beautiful being in existence didn’t matter. The notion was simply lost on the Dream Lord.

“Your words have merit.” Morpheus conceded, unable to refute her caution. Endless were the embodiment of absolute order. Him and his siblings directed the fundamental forces of the universe and ensured they fulfilled their purpose. Your existence, however, was the antithesis of theirs.  It was as if the universe wanted to break free and manifested you to break its chains. You were not written on the Book of Destiny nor were you one day arranged to enter the Sunless Lands. Even your dreams were not influenced by the Dreaming. You simply existed.

“I will not lose you again.”

Lord and subject turned to see you approaching, the look of determination on your face matching the unwavering manner in which you delivered your declaration.

Lucienne took a step back as Morpheus moved to meet you, “You will not lose me again, my love.” He spoke softly, his entire countenance shifting to that of complete affection. While he believed those words wholeheartedly it was evident from the way you pursed your lips that you did not, heart still fresh from your loss of him as if it happened yesterday. In a way it did, he supposed, for your magic never truly allowed you to grieve him.

“They robbed me of you.” The words left you through gritted teeth, “Of a life we will never have. Of a version of myself I will never know.” You kept your eyes on his despite the crack in your voice brought upon by the hatred in your heart.

The words of warning from the prophecy echoed in his mind. 'The Scarlet Witch is not born; she is forged.' Perhaps humanity, in its arrogance, inadvertently forged its greatest threat.

Morpheus watched as, in your anger, your magic begins to manifest just above your eyes and slowly unfurl to form a crown of pure red energy – angry and vengeful. It does not deter him, however, as he reached out to cup your face with both hands and leaned forward to press his forehead against yours.

“Heal with me, my love.” He whispered, unable to hide the plea in his voice, “Roderick Burgess is no more as well as his cowardly son who stood by and did nothing. They will never take me from you again – this I promise you.” He felt your magic dissipate and calm even if your breathing continued to be shallow.

“Should my siblings dare to interfere in our love I will defend you as staunchly as I know you will defend me.” He pulled away then to gaze adoringly at you, so utterly deep in his devotion to you. “All will know of my intention to make you my Queen.” His voice, like liquid seduction, caressed your face. When he leaned down this time it was to plant an open-mouthed kiss on your jaw, “When I plant my children inside you no one will ever dispute the fact that you are of the Endless.” His lips moved to caress the corner of your lips, “Wife of an Endless,” He whispered an inch away from your lips, “Mother of my children.” He caught your lips in a hungry, desperate kiss. A century in the making.

read chapter. 04

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Hopes and Dreams

Art from Danish School (19th century) 

Summary: you are a new Goddess: Hope. You were made for one of the Endless siblings if not all of them, and humanity. You must figure out which sibling you were made for. But what if they don’t want you? 

In this chapter you have an encounter with Death. Feeling defeated after Dream’s rejection her warm smile is more than comforting. Death brings the Goddess of Hope, Hope in a time where she needs it. 

Pairing: Dream of the Endless x F!Goddess Reader, Dream x OC Reader (Dream is not in this chapter, it is a somewhat slowburn) 

Warning: blood, death 

Word Count: 1498

Note: This is a continuation series; I’m not sure how long it will be 

Part One: Creation;  Part Three: Roomies with Death and a Deal with Dream; Part Four: Pain and Nightmares 

Part Two: Power 

As I passed back into the human realm a sense of defeat overcame me. What if all of the Endless siblings react the way Dream did? What if I am a gift that no one wants to receive? Anger quickly filled my mind; why couldn’t Destiny have been more clear? Why couldn’t my creator guide me in any way?

I shook my head, trying to clear the useless thoughts from my brain. Those thoughts were not productive; they lead me to anger and despair. Two emotions that will not help my current state at all. Instead, I decided to focus on the latter part of Destiny’s words. 

I can tell my power is vast, but every time I try and reach for it, it repels my hand like magnetic monopoles. Confusion fogged my brain. I could call to the power easily when Dream was opposing me as a threat. But now it seemed to reject me. 

“What was it Destiny said? I have to listen?” I muttered out loud to myself. 

I huffed as I sat down in the meadow, the grass tickling the backs of my legs and thighs. 

Listen, the old gob told me. 

I exhaled roughly and closed my eyes, and began to draw my attention inward. And I heard…

Crickets, bees, the wind in the trees, the woodpecker nailing into a nearby tree, raccoons cooing. I heard everything; I heard too much. Too much for me to focus, too much for me to hear beyond the mundane sounds of the human world. The human world was so loud. How could anyone focus on anything? 

I clenched my jaw and shook my head. My forefinger anxiously tapped my thumb as I tried to relax. It shouldn’t be this hard. Frustration ate at my skin as I tried again and again and all I could hear was the meadow around me. 

“Well this very clearly is not working, and I have resorted to talking to myself so my existence is clearly going well,” I quipped to the open air. 

Needing a change of pace I rose from the meadow and started aimlessly walking. It wasn’t long before a worn-down wooden cabin came into view. My body urged me to go in. Like a fish on a hook, I could not resist. 

Having some idea of politeness I rose my fist to knock on the door. The wood was so worn my soft knocks left indents in the door. I cringed and hoped whoever the homeowner was wouldn’t be angry. But no one came to the door. There was smoke coming out of their chimney, and chickens running around the house. There had to be someone home. 

So, like a Godly entitled creature I am; I let myself in. 

Inside the cabin was nicer than the outside. More care had been given inside the home. Herbs hung from the ceiling, and hand-carved rocking chairs furnished the home, along with a nice fur rug. 

“Hello?” I asked, my body still urging me forward, “Is anyone home?”

A sound so soft passed my left ear. My head turned quickly, my pupils dilating, like an owl. 

“H…el..p m…e,” a man whispered out. 

Instantly I inhaled deeply and walked toward the sound, my body grew hesitant, no longer a fish on a hook. 

“Sir?” I called out. 

“H…ere…” he could barely grunt the sound out. 

I found the man at the bottom of a ladder with a bookshelf on top of him. Instantly I gripped the bookcase and threw it off of him. The man’s breathing was uneven and staccato, he let out a sigh of relief as the weight was lifted from his body. 

Fear gripped my chest as I saw blood leak from the old man’s side. Quickly I grabbed my dress and ripped it with my teeth, wrapping the man’s side to best staunch the bleeding. 

Blood still pooled too quickly, too rapidly. Tears formed in my eyes. 

The old man’s leathery hands found mine and he gripped them harder than I would have thought possible. His face was heavily wrinkled, but his eyes were bright and young. I could tell just from one look that this man was kind. That he would have peace in the afterlife. He looked at me in awe. He took in my overtly large eyes and wings and did not flinch. 

“I prayed for an angel to save me. Are you my angel?” He asked, his leathery hand reaching up to brush against my cheek. 

Something deep within me clicked in place as he did. I smiled large and bright and pressed my forehead against his own. I saw each and every one of his memories: past, present, future, even his dreams. I saw who this man was inside and out. I listened to his life, his worries, his loves. And at that moment I knew what he needed to hear to give him something he desperately craved and Hoped. 

“I am your angel, and I came here to tell you that you will see your Jesabel again soon, my dearest Ron,” It was as though I was possessed by the bright sun of a summer's day. The feeling of sun-kissed cheeks, and cool bodies from swimming in the lake. Only coming out to eat a ham and cheese sandwich and then jumping back in. It was the feeling that brought Ron the most comfort, the most hope. He longed to feel that peace again. To feel that type of peace with his wife who passed two years ago. He didn’t want to be in pain anymore, he hoped for a life of peace with his Jesabel. He longed to feel her love again; it was his greatest hope, his deepest dream. 

Ron started crying, gently I wiped his tears. 

“These are happy tears, my angel,” Ron said smiling, brighter than he had been in months. Full of hope. 

I hummed softly as I traced a finger over his brow and his nose like I knew his mother used to do. Slowly I saw the brightness leave his eyes. My heart clenched in pain as I saw the life leave Ron’s eyes. 

“I will take good care of him,” a woman said behind me, holding Ron’s ghostly hand. 

She was the embodiment of kindness, pure selflessness, and beauty.

I knew her instantly, “Death.”

“Hello Hope, Destiny has told me all about you. I will be back in a moment, stay here for me, will you?”

Still cradling Ron’s dead body I nodded. Slowly, I released my hands from his body. Blood stained my pristine white dress. The urge to rip it off my body, and scrub until I was raw, crawled under my skin. I shook my head and quickly spread my hands as wide as they would and clenched them into fight fists, over and over. 

A flash of a shadow in my peripheral made me turn. 

“You handled him extremely well. He faced no fear or anger in the end; I have to commend you,” Death said, slowly smiling at me. 

I was no longer in the mood for smiling. Even though I knew he had his peaceful afterlife; I couldn’t help but feel…

“The first life I guided I felt empty too,” Death said, taking a step closer to me, “but know that you gave him hope and peace. He felt no pain, only relief.” 

Her hand was warm as she reached up and gripped my bicep. 

“It’s not just emptiness I feel, Death. At that moment Ron gave me a purpose. I knew how to use my gift. It was second nature like breathing. I finally understood the point of me living. But now he is gone and with him the understanding of how to use my power. For one moment I did not feel so completely and utterly alone and lost. I… I felt Hope, Death.”

Death shook her head, her curls bouncing as she did, “You will never be alone. It is as Destiny told you; you need only listen.”

Tears of frustration filled my eyes, “I might need some more instruction because I have been completely inept trying to figure it out on my own.”

Death laughed, “My goodness you are as dramatic as my brother. I like you, Hope. You brought comfort to a dying man who would have otherwise been alone and scared. I will train you to the best of my abilities. You will work by my side and live at my kingdom for as long as you want.”

Something bright rose in my chest, something akin to joy, “Am I meant to be your gift, Death?”

“Sadly, no. But I will steal as much time with you as I can, my Little Hope.”

My eyebrows scrunched together in confusion, I was at least a head taller than Death. But I did not want to question her just in case she took away the best offer I could have ever received.

Death reached out her hand, and I took it without a fear in my mind.

Interwoven | Chapter 5

Chapters:  5/6 Fandom:  The Sandman (Comics & TV 2022) Rating:  Mature/Explicit Relationships:  Dream of the Endless | Morpheus/Original Female Character, Dream/Reader Characters:  Dream of the Endless | Morpheus, Original Female Character, Hob Gadling, Original Characters, Matthew the Raven, Lucienne, Calliope, Mervyn Pumpkinhead, Calliope, The Endless, Eve, Delirium, Death, Desire Warnings: 18+ Minors DNI, Explicit Sexual Content, Past Abuse, Abusive Relationships, Possessive Behavior, Domestic Abuse, Domestic Violence, Jealousy, Trauma Responses Tags: Character Development, Established Relationships, General complicated feelings, meeting the family, meeting the friends, talk about fantasies, domestic life, fluff, past Relationships, ANGST, OFC: Dahlia, Named Reader, 1st POV

Summary: She had very few people in her life and while he denied it, Dream had so many. People that cared for him, people that warned her. Or in other terms, Dream and Dahlia’s casual relationship is turning not so casual. Chapter Summary: The past and present collide. CHAPTER WARNING: References to Domestic Abuse, Violence, Assault, Graphic Descriptions, Trauma Depictions

4th in the Fragments Series | Read on AO3 Writing Masterlist Chapter 1 | Chapter 2 | Chapter 3 | Chapter 4 | Chapter 5 | Chapter 6 Previous in Series: Possession Next in Series: The Complications of Family Chapter 5: Calliope and-

As I often did when faced with having to have a hard conversation, I pushed it under the rug and moved on, content to let the unease stay under the surface. Fear and uncertainty won out and it wouldn’t change anything, bringing it all up. Going back to the Waking World was surprisingly difficult but life called. I had work and bills and it’s not like there was cellphone service in the Dreaming so I had to make sure Anissa or Hob weren’t blowing up my phone or freaking out that I’d disappeared. Morpheus eventually fixed that issue through…magic? I wasn’t sure, but he was able to contact people with glowing orbs so it wasn’t too much of a stretch. The orb system wouldn’t quite work for Anissa unless I wanted to spill the news of who he was or give her a heart attack so we went with making my phone reachable in the Dreaming. But life went on. Morpheus didn’t open up about his sisters though I knew something was bothering him and I didn’t bring up Alianora. It was easier to face the insecurity eating me away than the potential argument that would ensue. He was on edge, simultaneously aloof and more protective and I wasn’t sure how to approach him. The holiday months came and passed, one after the other, and time marched ever on. When most people gathered with their families, I stayed in the Dreaming with Morpheus or we’d go to Hob’s flat above the New Inn. Two family-less mortals and an Endless who didn’t seem to care for his. Dream didn’t particularly care if it was a certain holiday, I think using it as an excuse to get away and be with us. Celebrating mostly involved listening to the immortal talk, us bickering, and too much drinking, but for once the holidays didn’t feel as lonely as previous years. Anissa tried to drag me to her family gathering but I declined, not quite feeling like being an outsider and watching what I had lost. It turns out the Dreaming did seem to celebrate certain holidays, or at least some areas of it did. Abel was the main facilitator, going around and decorating furiously and getting the staff involved. Lucienne even wrote out holiday cards for the Dreaming residents. Most of them visited the Houses of Mystery and Secrets for Christmas and ice skating, the large lake nearby frozen over and the area covered in snow. Watching Merv and his Guano Gang of bats try to help hang up lights and decorate trees was particularly entertaining and even if Morpheus didn’t fully participate in all the activity, choosing to work instead, he’d joined for parts of it and stood at my side or watched Lucienne attempt to teach me to ice skate. I knew that even if he seemed disinterested, there was no way the weather in the realm magically became a winter wonderland without his help. It was a small thing, but I noticed it. And as the new year came and went, as I spent time where I could in the Dreaming and Morpheus became a more solid presence in my life, this thing between us felt like an expanding bubble. It was getting harder to ignore, harder to swallow and say we were nothing because we didn’t feel like nothing. We felt like too much. The Dreaming was feeling like home. He was feeling like home. I’d gone from being hollow and going from one empty relationship to another, desperately seeking some sort of affection after Aiden, empty and craving something to make the world less gray. Now life was magic and stories and immortals and people who genuinely cared for me. Anissa, though not his biggest fan, stopped ribbing me about Morpheus and seemed to accept him in a passive aggressive way. Though she didn’t stop giving him shit when the few times she was around him. Hob was quickly becoming a close friend and confidant, someone that understood having a secret and being tied to magic. He’d seen and experienced so much but was still full of light and kindness. Lucienne and Matthew and all of the Dreaming accepted me and seemed happy enough for me to be around. And Dream, he cared. Cared so much that it felt like I would be swallowed whole by the endless stars and sky that burned in his eyes. He hated me being away, I could tell. Each time I left the Dreaming, he seemed to cling tighter and when he would leave, he’d linger longer. I knew he was aware of the bubble growing as well, this building thing between us and I wasn’t sure how he felt. Morpheus was simultaneously desperate to have me at his side and mysteriously distant at times, doing work that he wouldn’t share or expand upon when asked. It felt like he was hiding something and I wasn’t sure how to feel. Complicated. Attached. Mine and his. Words I’d used to describe us seemed too simple now. They didn’t fit. But different words, words that lingered on my tongue when I smiled at him wide with utter abandon or felt his lips on my skin in worship, felt too big. Like I would choke on them if they left my lips. Like he’d vanish if he attempted to utter them. Thus, we stayed in limbo, too big and too small, but knowing something would change soon for better or for worse. A car crash waiting to happen. I chewed my lip as I left my office building, the air outside warmer in the evening now. Spring had come slowly but a few tendrils of Winter still clung, the slight bite in the morning hanging in the air by lunch and now gone entirely by evening. The day had been slow, boring, and I’d spent a dumb amount of time at work arguing about an old collection of fairy tales over text with Hob in between his lectures. I had no doubt it would continue when he came over for dinner with Dream, who would no doubt settle it between us, but I was determined to be right. I had even called the local bookshop I frequented close to my apartment to see if they carried the book I was thinking of. He was stubborn but so was I. Anissa was out on vacation for a week, leaving the office stuffy and boring so I was eager to leave as soon as the clock turned. I sighed and checked my phone before entering into the small bookshop down the street, the bell ringing overhead. I had a bit of time before both immortals came over. Hob was going to be doing the cooking so he had plans to come over earlier to start, Morpheus showing up whenever he deemed he could get away. He didn’t eat with us but usually drank wine while we did, choosing to enjoy the company instead. We’d learned better after making him try the food once, overly excited to see him change his mind and only getting a bland reaction in return. Unless it was on my skin, he wasn’t a fan of human foods. There weren't a lot of people inside, most customers already headed home for the night rather than stopping in to shop. I twiddled with the black stone on my necklace and went to the isle where the book would likely be, skimming over the titles and slightly smiling at myself while thinking of the two men that simultaneously annoyed me and kept me on my toes in different ways. But I was determined to be able to throw this book in Hob’s face if only to see his reaction. I chewed my lip and then made a small noise of satisfaction as the title fell under my fingertips, the book obviously second hand and well loved but the golden foil of the words holding up. I flipped through the pages anxiously, grinning when it found the one I knew had been in this collection. He had been so determined to say it wasn’t included, it was going to be so satisfying to prove him wrong. “I take it you found what you were looking for?” a soft feminine voice spoke behind me and I jumped, hugging the book to my chest and knocking into the shelf. I winced as my elbow connected to the wood and some of the books jostled together. The woman standing behind me was beautiful, dark hair falling around her shoulders and some pinned back in intricate braids. Her brown eyes were warm as she looked on with a slight smile, a white sundress falling to her feet. There was a grace and light that emanated from her, ease and comfort surrounding her like a well loved blanket. I smiled, laughing nervously, and clung to the book in my hands. “Uh, yeah, I was hoping they had this copy. I was needing it for a friend,” I replied, tongue explaining without even thinking. She smiled and nodded, hands clasped in front of her and looking at the title I held, “That is an old one, but a beautiful collection.” I wasn’t sure why I was nervous. Words tumbled from my lips unbidden and I couldn’t help smiling, a little bashful, “I read it a long time ago when I was trying to get a story sorted out, but I think I just ended up devouring the stories instead. I love old folk tales.” In truth, I’d read it all over and over again until Aiden had tossed it in the trash. I had become distracted from him and like most things I loved, he got rid of it. Her brown eyes lit up and a tinge of amusement danced along her lips, “Oh you’re a writer?” I chewed on my lip, shrugging, “Sort of. Nothing published or really finished, more like I write in my past time.” My past time which had been dwindling over the past year, now relegated to when I would spend time in the library with Lucienne or the few times I was alone at home, “I work at the book publisher a few blocks away! It was the closest I could get to working with stories outside of writing and reading them.” That amusement on her face grew but there was a hint of bitterness at its edge. I wasn’t sure why I was telling her this, almost as if it were unbidden. One of my hands went to fiddle with the black stone necklace, the obsidian cool under my fingers. I watched her eyes follow the movement and fixate, her brow furrowing. “A writer and a lover of stories,” she sighed almost sadly even while slightly smiling, warm brown eyes flickering up to meet mine once more, “I could see why Oneiros would take an interest in you.” The name clanged through me, harsh and sharp, severing the connection between us. Almost as if the temperature had dropped, it was instantly colder and I could feel the slight tingling of Dream’s power emanating from the stone necklace. Oneiros, another of Morpheus’ names. My fingers tightened around the book. I was on guard immediately and shut myself off, face becoming stony, “It was nice talking to you but I have somewhere I need to be.” Before she could reply, I took the book and almost walked out of the store, stopping briefly to remember where I was. The cashier didn’t comment on the fact I was shaking, quickly ringing me up and completing my purchase, and then I was pushing the door open to leave the small bookshop with the book shoved into my bag. I was alert, flight or fight running through me. Normal people didn’t know about Morpheus. She couldn’t be human, could be any manner of thing. And I wasn’t about to stick around to find out if she meant to hurt me, maybe even use me against him. Morpheus’ paranoia was rubbing off on me. Dream’s necklace was clutched in my fingers and I wondered if he could feel the sharp tick in my anxiety, glancing up to see if I could spot Matthew anywhere. I wasn’t sure exactly how his connection to the jewel worked, only that it would lead him to me in case of emergencies. Another of his precautions. The door chimed behind me and footsteps raced before a gentle hand grabbed my arm. I whirled and backed up, breaking contact and instantly defensive. The woman held her hands up, face apologetic and beseeching, “I mean you no harm! I did not wish to frighten you at all, I had simply wished to speak with you.” Her voice was gentle, pleading, and there was a calming effect to it that I tried to shake off. It could be natural but could also be magic. I didn’t relax, eyes wide. Even in the brightness of the dying sun with other people around, I was fully on my guard, “You mentioned Dream, you know him.” She let out a huff, half a laugh and half a sigh, while slightly lowering her hands, “Yes, I do know him. I would have said rather well, but I’m afraid not quite so much anymore. My name is Calliope. Do you know who I am?” The world tilted. My breath caught and eyes widened, heart thumping rapidly in my chest. Did I know who she was? Yes, I did. Her name had rattled in my brain for an entire night while I sat in Morpheus’ empty chambers, waiting for him. Wondering what he was doing, running off to his ex-wife, leaving me without even a word. His former lover and wife. The mother of his child. A muse, a goddess. It all fit now that I was looking at her with fresh eyes. She was beautiful, a hint of etherealness underneath her rich tanned skin, with an elegant face and regal-ness. Even in more modern clothing, it fit her and didn’t hide the classic look of her. The calming nature of her made sense. I could only whisper out a reply, eyes quickly cataloging everything about her all the while finding myself lacking, “Yes, I know of you.” Morpheus had loved her once, loved her long enough to marry her and then father a child with her. We had never broached the topic again after our last blow out concerning her, when he’d disappeared to help her, so I wasn’t sure how they had fallen apart, how their marriage had crumbled. I knew it had to deal with their son but that was a dangerous topic and I never brought it up again. But looking at her, I could see why he had been with her. There was tenderness, compassion alongside her beauty, but confidence and a hint of defiance in her eyes. A muse and the Prince of Stories. It was fitting. More fitting than a human and King of Dreams. Her lips pressed together and she tried to smile at me but it was a bit sad and sympathetic, “This is a bit of a mess, is it not? I am sorry. I had heard of you- of both of you and…was curious as to who had attracted his attention. I truly only wished to talk.” She was pleading, hands open as if to show she truly meant no harm. I chewed on my lip, feeling small and awkward in front of her, as I processed her words. She had heard of us which meant word had spread beyond the Dreaming and the Endless. Otherworldly beings turned out to be huge gossips and I was finding myself at the center of that. I knew that would upset Morpheus, either because people were intruding on his personal business or because it meant people knew he was with a human. I wasn’t sure and didn’t know if I wanted to find out which. In all honesty, I didn’t know what to do or how to feel. This woman did nothing to me beyond spark jealousy and insecurity but that wasn’t her fault. I knew she had been in trouble, imprisoned against her will for years until Morpheus had at last saved her. Sympathy and jealousy warred until all that was less was awkwardness. “I’m Dahlia. I…don’t really know what to say to you. This isn’t exactly a normal occurrence for me,” I mumbled and almost hugged myself if only to feel some semblance of grounding. “Meeting a former lover of Dream’s?” Calliope offered with a slight smile. I shrugged, “More like meeting a goddess but that too.” We both sort of laughed under our breaths, the tension easing a bit. Sighing, I looked up at her from under my lashes and chewed on my already raw lip, “He didn’t tell me exactly what you went through but…I’m sorry, either way. I’m glad he helped free you.” A shadow passed behind her eyes and she briefly looked down, swallowing visibly, before offering a solemn smile, “It is unnecessary but thank you. I did not believe he would come, that he would help. But he has changed. I can see that now.” “How so?” I asked. I kept hearing over and over that he had changed, but this was the only version of him I ever knew. Everything I’d been told so far had been so different from the man I’d come to be with. She looked me over then looked around us, people walking past on their way home along the sidewalks, “May I walk with you?” In the back of my mind, I reminded myself Hob and Dream would both be at my apartment soon so maybe heading that way wasn’t a bad idea. I could only hope he wasn’t near and didn’t see Calliope. If he was mad at Delirium and Death for being around me, I wasn’t sure how he’d react to his ex wife talking to me. I nodded and she stepped forward, falling into step at my side as we started to walk down the street. “He is no longer the man I once married,” the goddess began, eyes distant, “When he pursues you, he is fire and overwhelming. Almost suffocating with how much he loves, but once that fades, once it all settles, he could be so cold, so strict. It’s a miracle we stayed together as long as we did. Now there is almost a…gentleness to him. Oneiros is not as hard as he used to be. Maybe not as cruel.” Cruel. This wasn’t the first time I had heard that description of him. It’d been said about Alianora. He was fire, bright and burning and all consuming. While I’d been told in the past he would hardly touch anyone, didn’t seem to like it himself and wouldn’t permit it, he almost seemed desperate for contact now. He was always touching me in some form or fashion, even if it was only a simple brush against my side. I couldn’t see this Morpheus she was describing, but then again she was speaking of love. We weren’t like that. Either way, this was probably my only chance to learn more about their relationship. I was learning a lot about Dream’s previous lovers, most likely learning more than I should, and a part of me said that sometimes knowing too much would only hurt. Another part though couldn’t help it. Couldn’t help the comparisons or learning how he may one day leave or hurt me, learning the differences. Maybe it was the broken, leftover parts of my previous relationship that made me want to prepare for the worst instead of enjoying what I had. Like I was bracing for impact. But I couldn’t stop it. Fear had a hold of me and said to prepare because he would leave one day like he did with all the rest. Each step felt like it weighed a ton, but I kept walking, glancing at her from the side of my eyes, “But you did stay together for quite a while. I’m sorry if this is intrusive. He just never talks about…anything.” Calliope smiled, almost knowing, letting me guide the direction we walked, “No, he doesn’t. Sharing parts of himself was never something he did. But it’s fine, I understand wanting to know and I don’t mind.” She took a deep breath, breathing in the cooling air of dusk, “We did once love each other, but I wished to keep my life even while we were together. It made each meeting more special in my mind and I did not wish to live in the Dreaming. I lived in the Waking world with my sisters and he stayed in his realm. But once the passion faded, I think the distance became a wedge.” “Oneiros traps himself in his rules and routines and work, desperately clinging to them while also desperate to break from them. I think in the beginning I was a distraction from that work, a distraction from the Dreaming. I tried to be considerate of his responsibilities, was obedient and caring as a good wife is, but it was not enough. I think he became bored of it all, of our domestic life. He slowly stopped visiting and I had to go to him if I wished to see him.” “Wait, weren’t you Queen? Of the Dreaming?” I asked tentatively. I wasn’t sure if that was even a thing, but the fact she stayed outside of the Dream even while married was odd to me. I couldn’t imagine not being a part of the realm while with him. The place was magic and I knew Morpheus loved sharing it. But I wasn’t a goddess and I was sure she had things to do besides being his wife. Calliope shook her head and lifted her head, taking in the dying sun, “No, I was merely his consort. I had my own responsibilities as a muse and let him handle the Dreaming but back then he was less willing to share. Whether it was the realm or himself. It was his burden to bear and only his. Maybe it was partially my fault for not becoming more a part of his life, the distance, not pushing. It wasn’t our way back then to push, even as his wife. I was there to help and serve him.” The thought rankled me, bitter in my mouth. I knew how that was. More a maid and less a partner, there to help and be a decoration. I didn’t see her as being obedient but times change. Even the person I was a few years ago was so different from who I was now. She looked at me as if she knew the comment had annoyed me and smiled. The streets were clearing out as dusk fully settled in. We were walking slowly, taking our time while still headed for my home. One by one, street lamps turned on and we savored the low lights and warmth of the breeze. Sighing, the muse fiddled with her fingers, brown hair cascading over her shoulders, “I had thought perhaps a baby could repair the strain. It was my wifely duty but I wanted something that was both of ours. And for a time, it did. He was a wonderful father, but the distance only grew until it became a chasm.” “I-” the words stuck in my throat, choking, but I pushed on, “He doesn’t talk about your child and I’d prefer if when he does tell me about him, it’s on his terms. If that’s okay?” Calliope paused and the sadness was apparent even in the dim lighting. There was pain there, bright and sparkling as if whatever had happened was fresh. I wasn’t sure exactly what it was. If their son had died or something worse had happened. Morpheus didn’t speak of him at all and I could see in her face that whatever had befallen the boy, it hadn’t been good. I didn’t want to learn second-hand. It was too big, too important. I’d wait for him to tell it when he was ready, if he’d ever be ready. And so she nodded, “Of course. It is…difficult for both of us. But it should be something he tells you himself.” We were getting closer to the area of my apartment, but I wasn’t feeling as anxious anymore. Her presence was nice, reassuring even if an air of sadness hung around her, “I must not quite be what you expected. I’m so very human.” She smiled, eyes brightening, “You say that as if it’s a bad thing. Being human is wonderful, but yes I am a bit surprised. I wasn’t expecting him to be with a mortal given-” The muse seemed to cut herself off, looking unsure and hesitant. I raised a brow, confusion coloring my eyes, and she ducked her face away before shaking off the look, “Given who he is. But he has changed so much, even if he doesn’t believe so. Even if I didn’t believe he could. Have you met his family yet?” The change in topic was obvious. There was something there she had wanted to say but stopped herself. It kicked up my anxiety but I didn’t know her well enough to push and let it slide, going along with it, “I met Delirium and Death very briefly, but that’s been it. It was more accidental so nothing formal, but they were nice.” She smiled tightly at the older Endless’ name, nodding, “I was never very close to them. They kept their distance for the most part but were a part of my son’s life. They are…strange. For a long time I blamed them, and maybe Oneiros as well, for the things that went wrong. Their involvement in our lives and the way they acted. Even their help can hurt. But it is their nature to be as they are and they can never truly change from their function. I would keep that in mind for the future.” The warning was clear and my brow furrowed, not sure exactly what had happened with her and the family. I knew some things about how they were. Desire and Dream seemed to butt heads the most, bad blood flowing between them, Despair usually getting dragged into it being Desire’s twin. Death was his favorite and who he was closest to. Delirium was spoken less of as well as Destiny and then Destruction…he had only been mentioned once and bitterness had coated his name. I wasn’t sure what had been done, but they were a dysfunctional bunch. But weren’t all families?

I wasn’t sure. It’d been so long since I had one. The sky was dark as we came closer to the apartment, the air cool on my skin. I was probably late and even if Hob knew where the spare key was, I wouldn’t be surprised if he was blowing up my phone. But it was in my bag, tucked away while we walked. Sighing, I looked at Calliope at my side and the way the light illuminated her features. The insecurity was at an all time high, and had increased since learning of her because standing next to the goddess I couldn’t help but feel lesser. I opened my mouth and asked softly, “Do you still-” “Lia?” The name is a stab, sharp and quick, and my body almost jerked as the sound reached me. I whirled around quickly, looking at the dark street behind me and seeing nothing. Lia, no one called me that. No one was allowed to call me that, not in the years since I’d gotten free. My breathing was quick and shallow as I combed through the area with my eyes, Calliope’s  questioning voice muffled under the high pitched whirring in my head. I couldn’t see anything but knew I had heard it. Maybe it was a stranger talking to another, the name bouncing to hit me unintentionally. A hallucination. My therapist had once said that could happen. Swallowing hard, I turned back to Calliope and could see the concern bright on her face, “Are you okay-” The question had just finished when a hand gripped my arm and I was jerked back roughly, another going around my waist and pulling. My brain went into a scrambled panic, her fearful eyes burned into it as I was dragged back and back into the darkness. I could only register her yelling my name, the painful grip of my arm and the sound of my shoes scraping against concrete as I was pulled roughly into a side alley not far from where we stood. The hands shifted and then I was pushed backward, my back hitting brick and head roughly bouncing off the wall with a sharp crack. Pain flared, hot and bright, and white flashed over my vision for a second. It all was happening so fast and I couldn’t get my bearings, couldn’t breathe or process. But then he was there, standing before me like a nightmare made real. Aiden. He was pressed up close, arms barricading me to the wall, but I could still see him clearly. This wasn’t a dream or nightmare or memory. No, those were images frozen in time from years past. He’d changed. His hair was longer, a mess of stringy dark hair falling around his ears and he had a thick coating of hair along his jaw. Dark circles lined his green eyes, puffy and worn, the skin of his face chapped and like leather. While he had been thin with a bit of muscle, now he was bigger, more filled out but strong. His shirt was ragged and torn along the collar, stains along the fabric. No, this was him in flesh. Older and rougher and so angry as he pressed down against me. I couldn’t breathe, couldn’t see clearly, eyes locked onto his and the darkness there, “Aiden?” Calliope was calling my name from a distance but I couldn’t process it, could only see the hatred and malice in my ex’s face, “Do you know how long it took me to find you, Lia? Did you really think you could ruin my life and leave like you did?” His voice cut through me like an echo through time. So familiar, stripping the years of my freedom down and away from me. Tangible, he was tangible and in front of me and his presence hurt so much more than the nightmare of him had. Fear pulsed through my body like ice sliding along my bones. “I didn’t- I don’t know what you’re talking about,” I stuttered, pain still radiating from the back of my skull, “Let me go.” I was twenty four again, standing in that dirty apartment and begging him not to hurt me. I was twenty, clinging to him and pleading to stop being angry. I was seventeen and alone, thinking he was the only person I had left even as he screamed in my face. This wasn’t a nightmare I could pull myself out of or Morpheus could save me from. He was here, standing before me, and I was stupid to think I’d ever be free. “You didn’t tell anyone about what happened, right?,” Aiden mocked and hissed in my face, spit raining onto me, “You fucking liar. Someone sure as hell reported it. I got arrested for attempted murder because they said I stabbed you and even if you didn’t show up, they had evidence connecting me to some other bullshit. Five years, Lia. They locked me up for five years because of you.” A small part of my brain said five years wasn’t enough. Morpheus had been locked away for over a century for doing nothing wrong. Aiden got off easy. But I was shaking, trying to make myself small and sink into the bricks at my back and he was so close and his breath stank of alcohol and rancid meat and I wanted to disappear, “I didn’t, I swear -” “Shut the fuck up,” he yelled into my face and tears unwittingly slid down my cheeks, my body seizing in fear. The urge to beg, to apologize, to try and coax him down was there inside like an old cat crawling from the darkness and I pushed it away. That wasn’t me but I wasn’t even sure who I was. “You left and suddenly I got put away and you think that’s what? A coincidence? And you think you can simply move on and have a happy little life?” The words were mocking and my nails scraped against the brick as I tried to keep myself from sinking into a ball. There was some strength left in me, some part of who I was now after leaving that reared its head forward and forced myself to plant my feet in the ground. I tried to get me to breathe, to swallow the fear and set it aside, to remember all I had accomplished while pushing out the words, “I left because you were hurting me. I didn’t report anything.” His face twisted in anger but he didn’t have the chance to do anything. With a sharp cry Calliope shoved into him, trying to force him off me. Her shoulder rammed into his and he stumbled back a few steps from the effort. But he was so much bigger than us, stronger now. She managed to put distance between us, pushing and clawing while screaming for me to run. There was no time though and he grabbed her shoulder and easily tossed her across the alley, body skittering over the disgusting floor. I watched her roll across the ground, that beautiful white dress now covered in dirt and felt bile in my throat. He had most likely forgotten about her or hadn’t cared if she was there, but she wasn’t nearly as scared as I was. Her face twisted in fury even from the floor, brown eyes dark with anger, as she shouted at him, “Leave her be!” Aiden smirked and advanced on her, all menace and cruelty in his eyes, “She’s mine, I can do what I want.” I could see it then, in his steps as he walked closer to the goddess, that he’d hurt her. There was no hitting him and getting away with it. There was always punishment but Calliope had already been through so much. She’d been caged and tormented and then thought to seek me out, not out of jealousy but some sort of common thread. I couldn’t let more happen to her, couldn’t let her be dragged into my mess. My head screamed at me but I launched myself forward at Aiden. There was no plan, no reason, only one thought pulsed through my head and that was to get his attention off Calliope. He could direct his anger at me, I could take it. I’d taken it before for years and years, knew the brutality of it. But she didn’t deserve to be hurt, especially not because of me. I tried to leap onto his back, arms wrapping around his neck and nails sinking in. It was a clumsy attempt but I managed, putting all my strength into pulling him backwards. Back and back and away from her, scratching and clawing and trying to bring him down. I think I screamed at Calliope to run, to leave, but couldn’t remember doing so. Skin tore under my nails and Aiden hissed. He growled and tried to grip my wrists, stumbling and turning as I dangled from his back. In one quick move he rammed us both against the wall, my breath leaving me in a single exhale as my back impacted with all his weight against me. My lungs were on fire, desperately trying to refill as all the air left me and I dropped to the ground hard and wheezed. I wasn’t a fighter, had never been strong, but I had tried. He kneeled and then his hands were on my neck, squeezing and squeezing while I kicked and flailed. The darkness encased us, the lamps not reaching where we were in the alley and hiding him thoroughly. I would die by his hand in the end, like I had always believed. For so long I thought he couldn’t do worse but he’d always proved me wrong. This was always going to be end game. Maybe there really was no escape. My hands clawed at his wrists while pain blossomed from my throat, air unable to choke through his grip. I kicked and bucked but he was so heavy on me, unmovable. One of my fingers had hooked into my necklace and it tangled in my fingers while I scratched at Aiden’s arms. I couldn’t leave like this, on a dirty alley floor so close to home while Dream and Hob waited for me. Would Dream know when I died? Would Death come to me first or would she tell her brother? Would I even get to say goodbye? Tears leaked down my cheeks while my lungs burned. Stars and colors danced in my vision and in the haze…I thought I could see a door. Almost like in the Dreaming, it stood in the middle of the alley, plain but luring. Waiting. It was fuzzy along the edges, flickering slightly with the pain and colors, but it was there. I gasped whatever little air I had, whispering out a single word like a plea. “Morpheus.” The word was strained, broken, lost in Calliope’s cries as she tried to get up and to me. But it left my lips, painted my tongue. My dreamlord. The door vanished as darkness began to creep in. Then there was lightning along my skin. It crackled and split the air even while the darkness pulsed and writhed like a living thing. The hands were gone from my throat, air rushing back in as the body above me was jerked away. Aiden was thrown brutally to the ground a few feet away and his body audibly bounced off the floor from the force of the impact. I gasped in the air desperately and touched the tender skin of my throat, coughing through the burn.

Hands -different hands, fingers long and thin, touched the skin of my neck and I blinked up into Dream’s starlit eyes as he softly urged me to breathe. His power coasted along my skin, gentle and soothing, and I knew he was holding it back from me. He was angry, furious, but kept that away from me. He cupped a hand against my check, forehead pressed to mine, and slowly helped me sit up, his skin cool against my heated skin. It was like trying to swallow nails, my throat painful and raw. I was crying, clinging to him, as he righted me against the wall. “You- you’re….here,” I stuttered out with a wince, the words dragging from my lips like sharp edged glass. “I am,” Dream whispered, sorrow and pain and rage lining his voice. He brushed the hair back from my face, from my neck, and seemed to be inspecting the damage. His rage grew. Aiden shifted not far from us, orienting himself on the ground, clumsily trying to sit up. Like an angry storm cloud made of nightmares and power, Morpheus stood and moved before him with a look so furious I couldn’t believe the man was alive. There was no solid edge to him, his cloak merging and shifting with the shadows around his, eyes pure black and stars red. His skin glowed in the darkness and he was purely Dream of the Endless, Ruler of the Nightmare Realms in that moment. Aiden groaned and blinked, trying to scramble to his feet in front of the dreamlord. The impact had hurt but he wasn’t fragile, could no doubt take the blow. But I could see the fear in his eyes, creasing in his brow as he took in the being before him. The Nightmare King slowly advanced and the air was thick with his power building, each step a warning bell. He was fear made flesh, darkness and the things hiding under your bed made real. And his eyes were solely on Aiden now, fingers clenching at his side. Calliope’s voice rang out, closer now, slightly pained, “Oneiros, stop! You cannot kill him!” His head quirked ever so slightly as he registered her voice, making him pause. The shadows slid along the ground and twisted in the air like a cat’s tail angrily flicking in distaste. Aiden took the opportunity to get to his feet, eyes glued to the Endless being in front, but some semblance of self coming back. He was evaluating the situation, taking in the distance to the end of the alley, to me, to Morpheus. I wheezed and attempted to climb to my feet, stumbling forward, knees pressed into the dirty concrete. I was so weak. I couldn’t do anything. Dream started to advance again and stopped almost like he was fighting with himself. Calliope was close now and the dim light reflected off her white gown enough that I could make out her form. She was taking him in, taking in the rage and Aiden before him, and yelled out, “He is not a threat to your realm, you cannot take his life! You cannot break the rule!” Aiden’s confidence was building at the words, his eyes swiveling to find mine briefly. Even when faced with something like the Dream King he still thought he had a chance and could win out in the end. I could see it, the confidence growing in his stance. “There are worse things than Death,” Morpheus growled and looked back at the goddess. The move was a mistake maybe. I could see it in Aiden’s stance like a memory. I could always read his body language, had committed it to memory to know when he’d strike, when he was buying time, when he was lingering in the hopes to draw out the anticipation. Maybe he’d run. Morpheus wouldn’t abandon me to chase after him, wouldn’t leave me. In the few seconds I had my eyes flicked to the ground and I could almost feel time pause. Not far from my scraped knees within grabbing distance were a stray plank of wood and a chipped, broken brick. Even in the scramble of the moment Delirium’s words echoed back clearly. “Oh we can ask if bricks or planks would be better!” It couldn’t be a coincidence. It had been a small offhand comment in her ramblings, but what were the odds? Yet everything clicked into place as I watched the turn of Morpheus’ head, the shifting in Aiden’s feet, the slight lifting of his lips into a smirk. He’d get away and would forever haunt me, would continue to lurk in the darkness. Escaping hadn’t been enough to be free of him. The world was an echo chamber. Silent. We were frozen in place as if time had fallen still and then in a blink everything was moving so fast. And like watching a movie, disassociated from the action, I watched as I picked up the brick and threw myself forward. I swung, it connected. Aiden’s head jerked and I could hear a crunch. I watched separately from my body almost as momentum carried me forward and I was stumbling, but not fully down. The man was bleeding, disoriented, and I swung again though the blow had less power. I swung again and again and a body hit the ground. I wasn’t sure if it was his or mine but then the brick was wrenched away and arms wrapped around me even as I kicked and screamed and cried. I was a wild animal, howling and snarling and pleading to let me finish it. It wasn’t happening to me, it was happening to her. The broken girl who thought she had survived her abuser. I watched as the dreamlord solidified and wrapped the shadows around her, muffling her sobs as he set her down on the floor against the wall. Tears and blood poured down her face and her neck was ringed in purple and red, breath coming out in gasping pants. Hyperventilating. Calliope was rushing over, crawling along the ground under she was at the broken girl’s side calmly urging the girl to breathe. She was having a panic attack and couldn’t be soothed. I was having a panic attack? I thought I could feel my lungs constrict and air try to push in and out but it was all muffled and numb. I was in my body and not, feeling everything and feeling nothing. Existing but watching from the outside. It couldn’t be me, couldn’t be me crumpled on the ground like a broken doll. But even so, she looked like me, had Morpheus’ attention as he combed back her hair and whispered that he was there and it was okay and I needed to breathe. In the distance, I thought I heard a raven’s cry. I could hear their words like they were in my ear. Dream hissed angrily at the goddess, “What are you doing here with her?” and I tried to force my hands to move, to grasp onto him and get his attention. I didn’t want him to be angry at her, I couldn't allow it.

Sobs poured from my lips, hindering the air trying to get in, and with a scratchy voice I attempted to beg him not to be angry. I watched myself do it and felt it too. She had tried to save me. Perhaps had saved me if I had been alone. None of it was her fault. “I promise, we were only speaking. I did not know this would happen,” Calliope tried to explain, her hand clenching mine tightly to ground me, “Is your sister coming?” He turned from her and focused solely on me, black pits having slid back to human icy blue. He didn’t answer. The tight fist in my chest was starting to ease, whether it be time or the soothing touch of Morpheus’ fingers in my hair or Calliope gripping my hand. Breathing became easier if not still painful and I slid back into my own skin. Everything hurt and my brain felt like jello, sloshing around my skull. I think there was blood soaking the back of my head. I tightened my fingers around Calliope and she forced a soft smile at me, “You are okay. He won’t hurt you any longer. You are safe.” She turned to the Endless at her side, both of them hovering over me and smiled sadly, “Take care of her, Oneiros. She needs you now.” His lips turned down and he nodded, but he didn’t meet her gaze. The anger aimed at her lessened, disappearing from the furrow of his brow. The muse moved to stand up but I gripped her hand, swallowing through my pain and tears, “Calliope.” She froze, eyes soft, and I continued, “Thank you.” I don’t remember her reply. The world shifted and turned, darkness blanketing me. I felt like a gravity sinkhole, weightless while also being too heavy. I think I passed out but at the same time, I remembered bits and pieces of what was happening around me. Arms lifting me up, tucking me close, as we climbed a set of stairs. The chest against my cheek emanated warm power, my necklace echoing it back. Hob’s panicked voice as fingers poked at a painful spot on my head. Him shushing and consoling, “darling” and “sweetheart” whispered into my ear and coated in pain and heartbreak. Water, cool and shocking, running through my hair as calloused fingers tried to untangle the matted blood. Morpheus’ own hands brushing the water or tears from my cheeks as he did so. I was held between them, cradled almost. Dream and Hob’s voices going back and forth, tense but resolute. Words like “done it before” and “take care of it” and “for her” stuck in my head before the door shut with a loud bang. Lips pressed against my forehead. The immortal man urging me to focus on him and stay awake, arms wrapped around my small frame and holding me to his chest as he sprawled us out on the couch. Morpheus wasn’t there, his absence noticeable. He talked and talked, voice wavering underneath the false cheer. Hob was gone and I was wrapped in shadows, warm and protective while long fingers skimmed over the bruises on my neck. I think we were on the bed, my cheek pressed against Dream’s chest and his cloak spilling around us like ink. Or blood. Any attempts at holding a normal form in the Waking were gone and I was wrapped in the King of Dream’s arms. His lips were against my temple and I could feel how he wished to hold me tight but was afraid it would hurt me. Could feel him holding back but was unable to stop touching, assuring both of us that we were safe and whole. In the twilight, he whispered that I was okay. That he was sorry for not being there sooner. His words were soft promises in the shadows of the room, pledges, and he told me how important I was, how he would never leave me, and that no one would ever touch me again. I’m not sure if he knew I was conscious, if the words were for my ears or for himself. But they lingered in the air nonetheless. Then I fell into darkness.

Taglist: @true-queen-of-mischief, @jesllianaquilesrolon, @khaleesihavilliard

If anyone wants to be tagged, pls comment

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"The future belongs to those who believe in the beauty of their dreams"

- Eleanor Roosevelt

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The days passed slowly, Morpheus always motionless and silent. Not giving his captors the satisfaction of hearing the words coming from his lips, or at least agreeing with their stupid proposals

Dream shrank into himself, closing his eyes and resting his head on his biceps. Drifting into unconsciousness and the search for the witch, the one who was making him fascinated and sane

In the Dreaming, Lucienne was in sorrow and agony. Eighty years had passed and her Lord had not yet returned, while the kingdom was decaying and its inhabitants fled to the Waking Word

"Where are you My Lord...?" The words were coming out like entreaties from the librarian's mouth, Lucienne was again trying to distract her mind when she heard the gates of the throne room open

"My Lord!!! You finally..." The words died in the woman's throat as she saw the hooded figure standing in the middle of the ruined throne room, for a moment Lucienne couldn't reason who it was but calmed down a few seconds later as she recognized

"Destiny..." The recognition made the name come out in a whisper

"Lucienne, I see my brother is not..." the voice was almost ancient and the weight of knowledge it carried was palpable

"Y-yes, Lord Morpheus has not been in the Dreaming for eighty years" The fact seemed to form a lump in Lucienne's throat

"I've come to bring you a message, after all, his destiny has already begun to intertwine with hers" Destiny said, being as mysterious as possible

"How so? Fates intertwined..." The cogs seemed to turn in the woman's head

"A King always needs a Queen to share the weight of the crown and responsibilities. Two beings of immense power, while alone are of great importance but united they are capable of making realities fragment" The words displayed power being spoken from the lips of the eldest of the Endless

Lucienne swallowed hard, her mind absorbing everything she had been given. Her hands rubbing against each other, trying to contain them from anxiety

"Dreaming will have a Queen, a Lady? I thought that wouldn't be possible," Lucienne inquired

"Everything is possible at the hands of Fate, although some things are beyond Fate's control. My brother and this woman are destined to fall in love and reign together, power meets power, but fear not Lucienne, she will be the most just, merciful and empathetic Queen this kingdom has ever seen"

And after saying these words, Destiny vanished in the same way he appeared

Lucienne let out a breath she didn't know she was holding, looking around the palace again. It was only a matter of time now, her Lord would return and bring a Queen with him.

Mr.Gaiman, Please Don't Interact. Thank you

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"Those who dream by day are cognizant of many things which escape those who dream only by night"

- Edgar Allan Poe

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The days passed slowly, Morpheus always motionless and silent. Not giving his captors the satisfaction of hearing the words coming from his lips, or at least agreeing with his stupid proposals.

Dream shrank into himself, closing his eyes and resting his head on his biceps. Drifting into unconsciousness and the search for the witch, the one who was making him fascinated and sane

In the Dreaming, Lucienne was in sorrow and agony. Eighty years had passed and her Lord had not yet returned, while the kingdom was decaying and its inhabitants fleeing to the Waking World

"Where are you My Lord...?" The words were coming out like entreaties from the librarian's mouth, Lucienne was again trying to distract her mind when she heard the gates of the throne room open

"My Lord!!! You finally...!" The words died in the woman's throat as she saw the hooded figure standing in the middle of the ruined throne room, for a moment Lucienne couldn't reason who it was but calmed down a few seconds later as she recognized

"Destiny..." The recognition made the name come out in a whisper

"Lucienne, I see my brother is not here..." the voice was almost ancient and the weight of knowledge it carried was palpable

"Y-Yes, Lord Morpheus has not been in the Dreaming for eighty years" The fact seemed to form a lump in Lucienne's throat

"I see...I came to bring a message, after all, his destiny has already begun to intertwine with hers" Destiny uttered, being as mysterious as possible

"What do you mean? Fates intertwined..." The cogs seemed to turn in the woman's head

"A King always needs a Queen to share the weight of the crown and responsibilities. Two beings of immense power, solitary are of great importance but united they are able to make realities fragment" The words displayed power being spoken from the lips of the oldest of the Endless

Lucienne swallowed hard, her mind absorbing everything she had been given. Her hands rubbing against each other, trying to contain them from anxiety

"The Dreaming will have a Queen, a Lady? I thought that wouldn't be possible," Lucienne inquired

"Everything is possible at the hands of Destiny, although some things are beyond my control." Destiny said in a calm voice

"My brother and this woman are destined to fall in love and reign together, power meets power, but fear not Lucienne, she will be the most just and merciful Queen this kingdom has ever seen" Destiny finished and vanished in thin air

Lucienne let out a breath she didn't know she was holding, looking around the palace again. It was only a matter of time now, her Lord would return and bring a Queen with him

Witch! Y/n and Dream of the Endless Talk

Dream: Calm down. 

Witch! Y/n: I don’t feel like forgiving, Desire! 

Dream: you don’t understand we must. 

Witch! Y/n: If you’re not going to listen, you can just go! 

Dream: We must move past this Y/n. 

*Matthew overhears the conversation* 

Witch! Y/n: She lied to us so, we could kill that innocent girl! 

Witch! Y/n: She tricked us! Don’t you feel used and MANIPULATED?! 

Matthew: Dream? Y/n?-

Dream: You’re choosing to take it personally. 

Witch! Y/n: IT’S MORTALS! WHAT’S MORE PERSONAL THAN MORTALS?! WE HAVE TO TRUST EACH OTHER!!

Dream: I know, you’re still upset...

Witch! Y/n: Oh! so it’s just ME. 

Dream: of course not. Can’t you see I’m engulfed with rage... 

*Dream showing no emotion at all* 

*Witch! Y/n looking angrier by the second* 

Witch! Y/n: Well, It doesn’t feel like IT. 

Dream: The sooner we forgive Desire, the better it will be for us all. 

*Witch! Y/n getting frustrated* 

Witch! Y/n: YOU’RE NOT AS ABOVE THIS ARE YOU THINK YOU ARE!

Dream: Yes, I am. 

*Witch! Y/n angry, grumble noises* 

Dream: You can’t stay angry at her forever. 

Witch! Y/n: Want to bet. 

Dream: Y/n...The carpet. 

*Witch! Y/n burning the floor from her feet with fire* 

Witch! Y/n: YOU! I CAN’T EVEN! UGH! 

*Witch! Y/n storms out of the throne room* 

In Another Universe

Mini-Series: Part 3/?

The Meeting.

Pairing: Morpheus x Fem!Reader

Story: Dancing With The Devil (Alternate path from the end of part 2 of the story onwards)

Warnings: Third Person. Will Mostly Be Referred To As She (Called Y/N When Her Nickname Is Being Used And Will Occasionally Be Called By Her 'Angel' Name). She Has Kids. Daddy Issues. Some Angst. Tension (She's Keeping Secrets and Morpheus Knows It).

Word Count: 2k

A/N: Major Spoilers for the Story (Klaus Mikaelson fic), like this existing spoils the mystery of who my character is as well as her character arc.

This will also be posted to my Wattpad.

Previous | Masterlist | Next

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Y/N spends the next few weeks waiting. Waiting for the inevitable moment when she's face-to-face with him again. She waits for the Kindly Ones to tell them how to get into his realm, Dream's realm.

His name makes her shiver as she paces around the apartment. Like she had been doing since she got back from meeting Raphael's history professor friend who isn't a friend, Hob Gadling. Who she could tell was hiding something. Which she hopes is something painfully human as she knows her brother likes him, if his constant blush was anything to go by.

Oh fuck, I hope I don't look like that when I'm around Dream. She pauses her pacing when she hears the door open and close, looking at her brother in confusion when he appears in the kitchen where she stopped her pacing. "I thought you where staying with Hob for a bit longer?"

Raphael stares at his sister not knowing what to tell her, before deciding it's best to just tell her the truth, "I was, but an old friend of his turned up and I wanted to let them catch up."

She eyes her brother knowing there's more to the story, "But?"

"It was him..." He watches the confusion cross her face, then the understanding "Yeah, it was an awkward and long conversation. Cause it turns out, Hob is immortal and they've known each other for over six hundred years!"

She barely processes the information before Raphael is speaking again.

"And the Kindly Ones said to follow your instincts and they'll lead us to Dream's realm."

"Okay..." she stops him from walking away, "what happened with Hob? Did..."

"I kind of just went, 'Huh' and walked away. Then I ran into the Fates and came back here."

"You need to talk to him." She holds her hand up to stop him from interrupting her, "But for tonight, we'll eat, watch some films and then you're going to bed. Okay?"

Raphael nods, "But what am I going to tell him? 'Yeah. Hi. I'm your soulmate but get this. I'm from another universe so our relationship is doomed.'" He throws his hands into the air, groanng.

She snorts, ignoring the sting of their reality as her eyes tear up. "Maybe not that." She grabs his arm, dragging him into the living room. "Choose what we're going to watch, I'll grab the snacks."

She walks back into the kitchen and leans against the fridge as she tries to stop the tears from flowing down her face. After taking some deep breaths, she composes herself and grabs the bags of snacks she picked up from the shop on the way back from the pub. She walks back into the living room, determined to forget their inevitably doomed relationships.

The siblings decide to wait a few days before attempting the journey to Dream's realm, mostly based on Raphael wanting to be in a better mood and therefore more polite. Y/N gives him that as she knows it will be needed and she will be her usual self no matter how much time she may take to try and be otherwise.

She waits in the alleyway near their apartment for her brother, kicking around a can as she had been doing for the last five minutes, tensing up when she hears footsteps coming down the alleyway and relaxing when she sees her brother.

"Ready?"

She raises an eyebrow at him to which he just shrugs, releasing his grey wings from his back. She does the same, putting up a hand for him to wait as she takes a deep breath, trying to allow her instincts to take over. She stretches her wings briefly before taking off into the sky, Raphael following close behind her as she just flies, not thinking as she lets her wings and instincts lead the way. She closes her eyes, enjoying the feeling of the wind flowing through her feathers and her braided hair. Her eyes flutter open as she feels herself going through something. The feeling is not unlike when she goes through the rifts she makes to travel through universes, but softer, almost.

"Woah."

Her brother's quiet voice reaches her ears as she takes in the same thing he's seeing. The vast colourful land and the endless black beach, separated by gates that look giant even high in the sky. Raphael gestures towards an area of the beach that sits in the middle of the two different gates. She glides down onto the black sand, her powerful wings making it fly around her as she lands.

"Which one do we take?" Her brother asks as he lands behind her.

Their wings recede into their backs as she leads them to one of the gates. It opens as they draw near, revealing a woman with dark skin peering at them over round spectacles.

"Welcome to The Dreaming." She greets them with a polite smile.

They walk the long distance to the palace with the woman who introduced herself as Lucienne. The siblings walk along the path, greeting and being introduced to The Dreaming's residents they come across. Lucienne tells them about The Dreaming as they go, including what the function of the two gates is. The pointy-eared woman lets them know that the gate they went through, the gates of Horn, tells Lord Morpheus that they mean no harm to the realm and its resident. Which would have told him the opposite if they went through the other gates, the gates of Ivory.

She exchanges a look with Raphael, both finding it amusing that she had implemented something similar in Hell nearly twenty years ago so she could weed out who would be a threat to her daughter, Evie, who she was forced to raise in Hell, away from her little sister and her father.

They walk under the front gates of the palace, the siblings looking up at the living stone guards, the Gryphon, the Wyvern, similar looking to the one that watched over and protected her daughter in her universe, and the Hippogryph all watch the siblings walk into the home of their sovereign.

Lucienne leads them through the palace, through all the corridors until they stand in front of a set of doors, which open on their own when Lucienne knocks. They enter a large room, Raphael taking in the structure as Y/N stares at the man standing on the stairs leading up to a throne. They stop in front of the stairs, the siblings bowing simultaneously, feeling his inquisitive gaze. She locks eyes with the man she now knows as Dream or Morpheus, searching his expressive blue eyes while his face remains emotionless, much like her own. She is only distantly aware of Lucienne introducing him, coming back to the present when his gaze drifts over to her brother, her head turning to look at Raphael.

"It's an honour to be welcomed into your realm, Lord Morpheus. I am Raphael and this is my sister..." he hesitates

"Lucy. We've met." His eyes flicker to her and then back to her brother.

"Right." Raphael chuckles, Morpheus's intense gaze making him shift on the spot.

"Why have you sought an audience with me."

She looks up at Morpheus, "The Kindly Ones told us you may be able to help us."

He looks at her, a shiver going down his spine from hearing her voice for the first time. "And how might I do that?"

"We're looking for our father." Raphael buts in, "He's been rather difficult to pin down."

"Your father?" He questions, "Why?" Morpheus narrows his eyes at her, taking in her caution, and her pain. The pain he's felt since he first laid eyes on her, that he didn't realise was hers until that very moment. He could feel how cruel life had been to her.

She takes a deep breath as she looks at her brother. He returns the look, letting her decide what to tell him. She lets her instincts take over, glad that they don't seem to be marred by Morpheus. "Well, the short version is, he's dangerous and powerful. And he will do anything to keep that power, he has and he will threaten people and he'll kill them if he even thinks they're a threat. He won't stop, not unless we find him and bring him to justice. For everyone's sake. For every universe's sake."

"Every universe's sake?" Lucienne speaks from her position next to the stairs.

She looks at Lucienne, "We're from another universe. And we've been chasing our father across... I don't even know how many, universes. What I do know is, we have to be careful. If he knows we're in the same universe as him, he will move on and we'll have to start all over again."

The silence that follows makes her nervous, even more so when there's a tug in the back of her mind. She blocks it, glaring at Morpheus as his eyes momentarily flash silver, telling her that he knows she's holding something back.

"What do you need from me?" He asks hesitantly, letting her keep her secrets. For now.

Raphael opens and closes his mouth as he tries to think, frowning at his sister when he comes up with nothing. The Angels had no idea why the Kindly Ones had sent them to The Dreaming.

"What do you do? What are your powers?" She asks, figuring it was a good place to start.

"I hold the collective unconscious of every living being capable of dreaming. Controlling their dreams. Watching over them as they sleep. Though I'm not sure that includes your father, if he's anything like you described."

The sibling raise their eyebrows at him, as neither of them expected that answer.

Y/N's mind whirs around with thoughts, "It shouldn't need to." She ponders out loud, turning her head to look at her brother to see if he's on the same line of thought she is. He isn't, judging from the confusion on his face. "Our father can't resist boosting his own ego."

Raphael's face lights up with understanding.

"Miracles." The siblings say simultaneously.

She looks at Morpheus once again, "Has anyone been dreaming of, friends or family's miraculous recoveries from illnesses or someone saving them from certain death. Stuff like that."

There's a beat of silence, "I can't recall anything you have described."

She purses her lips, Morpheus's eyes flickering down to look at them. "Is there a way I can search through the dreams? I may be able to spot his influence where you can't."

He looks at her incredulously, "And what makes you think I would allow you to enter the minds of the dreamers?"

Her pride bristles at the question, before her common sense kicks in and she deflates. He has no reason to trust her, whether she passed the test at the gates or not, he knows she's hiding something, something big. She knows he can sense it, thanks to their bond, even if it has yet to be completely fulfilled.

"Because of what you feel..." Raphael blurs out, hoping his sister is right about them being soulmates, even if he doesn't believe it as he remembers when Klaus died. How much pain his death caused her, how much she went through to see him one last time, physically and mentally.

Morpheus's head snaps towards Raphael, his face darkening.

"The way every nerve lights up when you're in the same realm, the way you can't stop thinking about him... her!" Raphael's face flushes slightly making his sister smirk at him, "You know she doesn't mean any harm to your realm or the mortals. We're just here for our father and then we'll leave and you don't have to see or hear from us ever again."

The silence that follows weighs heavily on everyone in the room, even Lucienne starts shifting in place. Y/N examines Morpheus's face as he continues to stare her brother down, feeling as he tugs on their connection, as he confirms what he refuses to admit to himself, what he knows to be true.

"I will consider it. For now, you may search for your father in the library." Morpheus doesn't voice his displeasure at the thought of her leaving, of never seeing her again. His heart constricts as he thinks about how he can extend her stay, if he even should.

The siblings don't voice the question on the tips of their tongues, instead, they bow in respect and follow Lucienne as she leads them through a side door in the throne room, Morpheus's burning gaze following them until they're out of sight.

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

Thanks for reading!

Younger Gods: V

Younger Gods Master List

Chapter 4

Morpheus x fem!reader

There's more than fear in the wind chimes' song, and there's more to the little storm god's dreams than the team is prepared for.

Warnings: curse-induced violence, language, rushed editing

Question: should I wait til I've finished this fic and the one-shots before sharing the first chapter of the next Morpheus x reader/OC fic, or should I be a reckless whore of an author and throw everything I have into circulation as I finish it?

Chapter 5: More than Enough Reason

Taliesin recognized the honor of being invited to the Dreaming’s library for what it was. Few walked the endless tiers of literature and life stories in their waking hours, and as far as he was aware, he might be the first outsider to properly visit since the Dream King’s return from his imprisonment.

He left his rain cloud with tea, toast, and instruction to rest before he stepped outside. Morpheus had left him a tiny bottle of sand. Nothing to keep and not enough to harm him in the short time he would keep it, but enough to bring him to the palace gates. He poured the bottle over the grass, and a raven’s cry caught his ear as the golden grains stirred to life at his feet. Matthew sat on the garden wall, ensuring Taliesin saw him just before the sand pulled him away to the gates of the Dreaming.

His little friend had a watcher, someone to keep her safe until he returned.

Although she may feel differently, Taliesin appreciated the gesture. It tamed a fear or two, soothed the fresh dread that she’d disappear when he wasn’t looking, and left space for joy. Excitement. He smiled into the blue sky between the palace spires with bared teeth and naked enthusiasm as the sand faded away.

The Guardians expected him, and not a one commented as the bard strolled into their master’s home.

He remembered the way to the library.

It wasn’t his first visit. Once upon a time, when he was a younger immortal, he’d begged and flirted his way in. Dream humored him then for his own amusement, granting the bard permission to study in his library until he fell asleep. The Endless expected it to last a few days, but Taliesin kept himself awake. He had a trick where he balanced his chair back on two legs, and without careful attention, the precarious arrangement sent him tumbling back. Eventually he slept, and he moved on to other adventures, full of new knowledge, still hungry for more.

He returned as an expert, called on for his perspective and ideas after the Dreaming’s lord scared his little friend away from rest. Strange how things came full circle.

The library organized itself for him, pointing him in the right direction to the place prepared for him with brightly lit passages and darkened corridors. When he saw the librarian herself leaning over a table half-buried in leather-bound tomes, he threw open his arms and shouted – in a voice entirely inappropriate for a library – “Lucienne!”

She peered over her glasses, judgement stomping down the glimmer of fondness lingering in her shrewd gaze as he stepped up to the table.

“Bard. Should I be worried for the chairs?”

“Oh, I’ve missed you.” He leaned across the table for a squeeze, but she pulled back, and he embraced an armful of air instead. Undeterred, he hugged what he had, closing his eyes with a smile, pretending to rock the phantom in his grasp.

A put-upon sigh forced his eyes open, and he chuckled at the reluctant amusement quirking Lucienne’s stern frown into a milder expression. “I think there are still scratches in the floor from your last visit.”

“Well.” He pulled out one of the chairs, sitting respectfully, keeping all four legs on the ground. “I was a much younger man.”

Lucienne looked at him like she’d only just noticed the grey in his beard, the silver threading his curls. As she came to terms with the evidence of his experience, he looked over her stance, her fresh confidence. Time reshaped them both since his last visit. He was more than the curious young man with too much in his head for one lifetime. She was more than the Dreaming’s librarian. Responsibilities squared both their shoulders.

Nodding, he asked, “Is this where I’m supposed to be?”

Lucienne blinked, adjusted her glasses, and straightened the nearest pile of books. “Yes. Lord Morpheus is attending to business in other parts of the Dreaming, but he will return soon, and bid me help you with any research you feel… necessary.”

“Thank you.”

Taliesin brushed his fingers over the titles before him. A few jumped out – treatises on fae magic, powers of the ash tree in ritual, and his own dream log. He pulled the last and flipped it open to the desired page on his first try. His records were unusual, one of a few in the library that grew its own pictures. He was a bard, after all, and his dreams changed when he first tasted knowledge. Literally. His dreams – memories and fantasies alike – wanted to share themselves.

The image he wanted set his course. It reminded him what he was doing and why. A full moon hung over a rich, green place, and his storm cloud’s little face looked up at him through the bars of an old gate. He saw the night she escorted him to the edge of her captor’s grove, her fingers twining through the metal, hopelessly close to a freedom she’d never have as she bid him goodbye, preparing herself for unimaginable pain to pay for his escape.

Lucienne came around the table to look over his shoulder.

“Is this the demi-god Matthew met?” She looked at him. “Your… ward?”

The collar almost glittered on the illustration’s neck. Running his fingers over the page, yearning to comfort a memory of a woman he knew was safe and sound in her own realm, he shook his head.

“She is not sister, daughter, or wife. She is my friend, and that is more than enough reason to love her.” Emotion roughened his voice, and he swallowed back tears before savoring a deep, steadying breath. “Do you have paper and ink, by any chance? It may help Lord Morpheus if I can write down some of my thoughts for him.”

“Of course.” Lucienne stepped away, then paused. “My lord.”

Dream’s bottomless voice filled the library. “Lucienne. I see you’ve welcomed our guest.”

“Yes, lord. I was about to fetch him something with which to write.”

“A good plan. Please, do not let me distract you.”

A lanky shadow draped itself into the chair beside him, and Taliesin bowed his head. Not for long, but low enough to prove he knew whose library they sat in. “Dream King.”

“Bard.” Morpheus ran his hand over the books much as Taliesin just had, though his eye wandered quickly to the open volume on the table.

Taliesin still had his fingers resting over the illustration’s hands, and he pulled away only a little self-consciously. The king knew the story. He’d lived it through his rain cloud’s eyes. Surely an entity as long-lived as an Endless would understand the kind of wishes men grew from regret.

He cleared his throat.

“Is there trouble at the borders?”

Beside him, Dream shifted. They had an alliance, but Taliesin knew the King of the Dreaming would never share anything that may compromise his realm.

He added, just to assure the monarch where his interests remained, “Her realm is very close to yours, and if there’s something prowling the Void, I’d appreciate a warning.”

Dream tugged the open book closer. He studied the scene, plucking out Taliesin’s fears and anxieties, the stuff his nightmares were made of: the girl in the sacred grove he owed so much, the one he could offer nothing when she most needed his help. The girl who, a few days ago, flirted with the point of no return, alone and afraid all over again.

“You worry for her.”

“Always.”

The Dream Lord pursed his lips, and though his eyes continued to rove the paper, his thoughts clearly wandered farther afield. Taliesin gave him time to decide what to share. Rushing kings never ended well, even if the barest hint of a threat made his feet itch to abandon the grand library and run back to his little friend.

“When I returned,” Dream said slowly, “I found not only the Dreaming itself but its borders weakened, damaged, and in my quest to reclaim my tools I reminded several powerful entities of their dislike for me and mine.”

He looked up from the book to meet Taliesin’s gaze.

“Deimos and Phobos have been stirring up nightmares and antagonizing dreams, looking for the foundations of a war. At the very least, their influence on the dreams and nightmares of my realm may inspire the mortals under their purview to violence.”

Taliesin accepted the news with a soft breath, at once relieved and concerned. Danger came with life. He’d grown to accept it as inevitable. Life meant breaking things. Losing people. It tickled the darker side of his sense of humor that the friend he should be least afraid of losing – the little storm god – came so close to so many kinds of trouble.

“While I doubt my friend or I could be of help,” he said, “we’re nearby if you need us.”

Dream accepted his intent, but Taliesin knew the offer would be rejected before he even voiced it. One of the Endless would only accept help from an immortal bard and a demi-god if his realm were crumbling around his ears. Maybe not even then.

“Thank you, bard, but they are only an irritation, not a threat.” He returned his attention to the dream log, turning several pages until an illustration of the storm god grown up, wearing a scarf rather than the collar, looked up at them. “I tested your theory. The collar drains her energy, even in dreams. I must confess, I am not sure how this is possible.”

Ah, at last they’d reached the meat of the matter.

“Could it be feeding off her dream in particular? I’m curious if it would behave differently in the Dreaming itself.”

“I will explore that possibility. If she is willing, I would also like to examine the curse by hand, though I have no doubt it will hurt her should I try.”

Taliesin reminded himself that this was not so different from an invasive medical procedure. To heal her, to break the curse once and for all, they’d have to try some unpleasant measures. It wasn’t anything she hadn’t experienced before.

Still, the king’s consideration bolstered Taliesin’s faith in his intentions.

“Thank you. I don’t believe I’ve said that enough in recent days, and regardless of what inspired you to help my rain cloud, it matters that you’ve chosen to help her at all.”

A strange expression rolled over Dream’s face, and Taliesin watched carefully as a laughing smirk curled his pout into a friendlier shape.

“Well.” His voice rumbled with dry mirth. “We are neighbors, after all.”

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

Tap. Tap. Tap.

Hands still full with her work, she looked over her shoulder. A raven sat on the windowsill, and when he caught her watching him, he pecked the glass again.

Tap, tap, tap.

She settled the mortar and pestle on the table – freshly reorganized and re-cluttered with five new projects – and went to let the bird inside.

Matthew rushed through in a cacophony of croaks and rustling feathers, settling on the back of her work chair to survey her mess. She could feel the judgement, but also his curiosity. He looked around the space, noting changes since his last visit, and she waited, arms crossed, wondering if he’d forgotten how to speak.

“There’s a poem about this shit, you know.”

Matthew cawed, fluffed up, and shook his plumage back into place with a shudder, sending rain water flying.

She jumped to shield her work.

“Hey, be careful.”

“Sorry.”

She’d more or less fallen back into her seat to keep her tools safe, and Matthew clattered along the back of the chair for a better view. “Good to see you in one piece, by the way. Got a little concerned when the boss brought you back here all limp and unconscious.”

Her hands froze over the wort she’d been about to grind. When had she been unconscious in the Nightmare King’s arms? It must’ve been after she fainted, between sliding down the wall of her rented bedsit and waking on the cottage couch with Taliesin smiling like she’d come back from the dead.

Goosebumps pebbled her skin.

But it was nothing. Nothing at all. He hadn’t hurt her. And if he’d carried her home in his arms… it didn’t matter.

“I’m fine, Matthew.”

“You know,” the bird mused, “I used to be a man. I wasn’t the always the sharpest, but I know when a woman says she’s fine, it means something’s wrong.”

“I’m okay.” Her hand remembered how fingers and tendons worked, so she threw the yellow flowers into the green paste and picked up the pestle. “And I had a whole conversation with your boss without running away. He didn’t even threaten me.”

“Well, that’s a relief.” The raven hopped onto her head, dissatisfied with his field of view. “Whatcha working on? Aren’t you supposed to be resting?”

“It’s the poultice I used to heal your wing. If I don’t do it today, I’ll have to wait another month.”

“Why?”

“Something about the moon.” Her mother taught her the practicalities of witchcraft but very little theory. This potion needed three moons – from new to full – to reach potency. If Taliesin wanted to bitch about it, he was welcome.

“Whatever you say, witch.”

“Not really a witch.”

“She says as she makes a potion.”

Rolling her eyes, she decided to ignore the pricks of his claws on her scalp. He had the occasional question – “What’s that? What do those do? How do you know it will work? Why do you need this thing, anyway?” – and eventually she’d done all she could. Before she went to sleep, she’d combine the various elements in the dark of the new moon.

She had the rest of the day to sit in the cottage and stare out the window. Normally something she enjoyed, actually, but Taliesin had her on bed rest, and she wanted out. His field trip to the Nightmare King’s library presented a golden opportunity, feathered babysitter or no.

As she stood up to gather her coat and mud boots, Matthew flew off to the back of the couch. “I can’t help noticing there are no beds in here.”

“I never liked sleeping,” she reminded him, tugging on the left boot. “I didn’t see a need.”

“Yeah, but you sleep now.” The bird had a point.

“And you’re hosting the bard here, too, right?” The bird had two points.

The timbers in the ceiling groaned as she stomped her right boot the rest of the way on, and although there was nothing as dramatic as falling plaster or cracking glass, she knew growing pains when she heard them.

“Time for a walk.”

She held open the door, and Matthew obliged, flying out to the wooden gate in the stone wall. As she trudged in his direction, he watched the house, twisting to give one eye a chance to make sense of it before turning to give the other eye a go.

“Is your house… feeling… okay?”

She shrugged and continued past him. He’d catch up when he finished ogling the mess. “You convinced me it needed something, so it’s growing.”

“That is really weird.”

“And you’re a talking bird.”

“Right. Okay.” He circled overhead as he spoke, his voice growing louder and softer as he shouted to cover the distance. “I still don’t have a name for you.”

“You have to give me one,” she called back.

“You’re trusting me to name you? What if I called you Stormy? Or Tammy? Or Jessica? Charlotte?”

She stuffed her hands in her pockets, aiming towards a cluster of trees that deepened into a little wood at the foot of the next hill.

“Your name for me is only your name for me.”

“What?”

Shouting, she decided, was too much effort, and distant thunder kept interrupting her anyway. He might not even hear her if she answered.

When she entered the trees, the canopy held back most of the rain, and Matthew swooped in close to enjoy the shelter. Only then did she reply.

“Names are gifts, but they’re also power. I never want anyone to have power like that over me again, but I still enjoy exchanging gifts with people I like. So, everyone gets their own name for me. It’s only a fraction of a true name’s power, but it grounds our connection.”

“You saying you like me?”

She snorted. “I’m saying I carried your feathered ass for the better part of a day and went to the realm I feared most to get you home safe.”

“Great. I like you, too. And don’t worry, I won’t call you Stormy. That’s a porn star’s name.”

“Thanks.”

“What about Stormcrow?”

Hollow murmurs of wooden windchimes twined through the trees to greet her, giving voice to the wind and stray drops of rain that slid down from the highest branches. If her soul had a sound beyond thunder and lightning, she liked to think this was it. A rough shelter of woven saplings kept a patch of forest floor dry, and she stopped to rest and listen as she laughed over Matthew’s suggested name.

“You know that’s what they call, like, prophets and soothsayers, right? Has nothing to do with literal storms.”

“Maybe.” Matthew shook out his feathers, giving his tail an adorable flutter at the end. “Sounds badass, though.”

Pulling her sweater over her hands, she bobbed a vague affirmation. “Taliesin calls me his storm cloud. Or rain cloud.”

“Stormcrow is so much cooler. That’s what I’m calling you from now on.”

She relaxed into the chime’s song, and she might’ve been content to drift away from their conversation if the bird wasn’t so determined to keep it going.

“What do storm gods do, anyway?”

She gestured outside the shelter. Fat drops still found their way between the trees, and the faintest rumbles assured her lightning forked somewhere in the ever-present cloud cover.

“No, but I mean like the trick you did with the lightning,” Matthew insisted. “Teleportation or whatever. That was awesome. Can you do other things like that?”

The forest had lulled her into a comfortable state at the edge of sleep, the place where she used to get most of her rest. Maybe the bard wouldn’t be so grumpy over her work if she came home refreshed.

“Mmn. That would be telling.”

“I’m asking, though.”

She opened one eye to squint at him, and he stared back with all the brazen confidence in his hollow-boned body.

“I’d be so boring if I told you all my secrets.”

They surrendered the conversation to the chimes, and even Matthew folded himself into a happy – quiet – ball of feathers for a moment. The moment stretched, companionable silence growing, and Matthew sighed, content.

“This is nice.”

How dare the dumb bird make three good points in one afternoon?

Still. He wasn’t wrong.

Without realizing, she’d given the music of the rain time to cleanse the last, sour notes of fear from her time in the waking world, fleeing the Nightmare King. Her usual tension lingered, but it didn’t torque into anxiety. The muscles along her shoulders didn’t bunch, and pull, and ache. Until she was as free in her dreams as she was awake, she’d always watch the world through the eyes of a hunted beast.

That didn’t mean she couldn’t enjoy herself. Find peaceful moments in a safe place with a friend at her side.

A wind stirred their corner of the world, rattling leaves and clattering through the wooden chimes.

“It is, isn’t it?”

But nothing, especially peace, could last forever.

“There you are!”

Taliesin waded through the trees, failing to find the easiest path, but making his own way and finding adventure as he went. As always.

And he’d brought company.

Droplets of rain clung to the Nightmare King’s disorderly hair, glittering like stars in darkest space. She might’ve found it beautiful if the thrill of fear up her spine didn’t distract her. Her heart didn’t try to leap out of her chest. No tremors shivered through her hands. Her terror was growing into something more like reasonable caution, and she’d accept that for the victory it was.

Didn’t explain what he was doing in her sanctuary, though. Again.

“Hey, boss!” Matthew called. “What are you doing here?”

“I invited him.” Coming to a stop in front of the woven shelter, Taliesin’s eyebrows lifted. His mouth didn’t turn up into a teasing smile. His eyes only grew fractionally wider. She recognized his preparatory face – ready for whatever reaction his news would inspire, waiting to feel and show the right thing. He always said the worst things with that face. “We need to discuss the plan with you. And why aren’t you resting?”

From her cross-legged seat on the forest floor, she looked around, feigning confusion. She peered up with her best, biggest, most innocent eyes.

“I am resting, though.”

Matthew cawed. “She was working on a potion earlier.”

“Tattle-tale.”

“And the house is growing,” Taliesin scolded.

“You know I don’t have control over that. It just… happens.”

The bard pinched the bridge of his nose and closed his eyes. He could spiral into making tea and tucking in blankets faster than she could blink, and the fact that he was holding himself back made her uneasy. “Yes. Well. None of that matters right now. We need to-”

“I would speak with you.” The Nightmare King’s voice cut through the rain, the chimes, and Taliesin’s explanation like a knife. It demanded her attention, and when she turned from the bard, the Dream King’s focus swallowed her.

She knew they weren’t alone, even if she felt like it. She could touch Taliesin or Matthew if she wanted to, and the Nightmare King stood furthest away, but none of it mattered. He hunted her from the moment they met, and she’d planned her life for nearly a year around the barest hint of his shadow. Their stories ran side by side, at least for the moment, and there was no escape from the interest of an Endless. It lingered. Demanding.

She didn’t think he meant to be frightening. Not just then, at least. Old experiences and the overwhelming sense of him plucked on instinct, though.

“What must be done must be done in the Dreaming.” He read the uncertainty in her eyes, and it lent his voice a new gentleness. Still the voice of a king. Of something much bigger and scarier than she could ever be. But this monster didn’t want to swallow her whole.

He held her eye to ensure she understood. “You and I will be alone.”

And therefore he would explain it alone. This was practice. He wanted to see if she’d raise her hackles and snarl like she had in the last dream or if they could move forward, find answers to set her free together.

Was she ready? The only way to know if her fears would run away with her again was to test them, to rise on shaky legs and step away from the safe people she could touch, to stand at the side of the Endless waiting as inevitably as the dark behind closed eyes.

So she did.

He walked deeper into the woods, and she followed until they were out of earshot of both raven and bard. When they’d reached a distance he liked, the Nightmare King slowed, encouraging her to come closer. She closed a few feet between them, but as they continued, he stole a few more, and he kept uncomfortably near as they made a wide circle around the shelter where Taliesin had swooped in to take her place beside the bird.

A stumble would send her into his shoulder. If her arms swung free, her knuckles would brush his coat, so she held her wrists under her sleeves, letting the cuffs touch to make a perfect circle. Her scarf’s tail wriggled in the breeze, sliding over the king’s long peacoat. He didn’t comment on it, so she kept her apologies to herself.

His low voice filled the spaces between their steps. “Tonight, when you sleep, I will take you into the Dreaming, outside of your own dreams. I need to understand if it is you or your dreams the collar feeds from.”

He paused, glancing her way, and she nodded. She got it. She was okay with it. It didn’t sound so different from what they did before. This couldn’t be what had Taliesin so worried.

“After that, I need to examine the collar.”

The wind swooped low between the trees, and she buried her face in the folds of her scarf, burying the phantom pain.

The Nightmare King stopped, and she followed his lead once again as he observed her poor attempt to hide.

“You will have to be very brave.”

Just the thought of someone else touching the collar, of what it would do to her, conjured a glassy film of tears she rushed to blink away.

“Before I attempt to touch the curse – to remove it – I wanted to remind you, you have no reason to fear me.”

Oh, she had plenty of reasons. They just weren’t as strong or valid as they once were.

“I’m not – well, I am – but much less than I was.” She forced her feet to move, and he mirrored her, still attentively watch her battle her distress. “I’ve come a long way since your shadow tried to – uh – eat me. When we first met.”

“Eat you?”

She jerked around, surprised by the levity in his voice. Amusement livened his dour pout into an actual, honest to gods smile. His eyes practically twinkled with surprised mirth.

“Is that what you thought I’d do?”

Heat crawled up her neck, over her cheeks, into her ears. Looking at her feet, she muttered, “Maybe.”

His smile’s warmth lingered between them, and it brightened in his words as he indulged in teasing out something besides fear from his companion. “You need not worry. I do not eat little storm gods.”

“Good to know,” she squeaked.

Who knew the Nightmare King had such a nice smile?

Ah.

Actually, on that note…

“Is there anything you prefer being called?” Her eyes kept to the forest floor as she addressed him, still recovering her sense of dignity. “You have so many titles, and I’ve thought of you as the Nightmare King for so long, I’ve realized it might not be particularly helpful.” She risked a glance up at him, and though he wasn’t as somber as he’d been when they started this little walk, serious consideration had eclipsed his humor. “Since I need to, you know, trust you.”

He let his gaze pass to a windchime as they walked by, and a thoughtful frown puckered his face. He probably had even more names than she knew, so she resigned herself to wait while he decided.

“You may call me by any of my names or titles that would ease your fear,” he said at last. “But, perhaps, Dream best suits your needs. I am Dream of the Endless. It is my name as well as my function.”

“I can work with that.”

“And what should I call you?”

The question caught her off-guard, and she hunted for the easy answers she’d given Matthew.

“That’s – well, uh.” It rarely bothered her, going nameless. But standing beside an entity with so, so many left her feeling plain and young. “You’d have to give me one.”

He angled his head, studying her face as well as her suggestion for some subtext. She’d rather he smile again.

“Taliesin calls me his rain cloud. Your bird wants to call me Stormcrow.”

Not a smile, but a tiny smirk rewarded her efforts.

“I will not steal my raven’s name for you, then.”

They worked their way back through the trees, and she clung to the light note at the end of their conversation. The King of Nightmares had become Dream, and he wouldn’t eat her.

Even if she dealt with horrors in her sleep, she wouldn’t be alone. Someone she may be willing to trust, even with her pain.

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

She was a cat again.

Big eyes drank in the starlight, comfortable even without the moon to guide her as she pattered along. She passed through a scene better than any hidden garden, prettier than a national park brochure. The wildflowers embraced her as she crept under their long stalks, dusting her with a thousand colorful scents her sensitive nose called cornflower, poppy, violet, and daisy. All the green, growing things called her to explore, to rest, to discover. Morning glory bloomed in the dark, and she imagined the earth smiled under her paws.

In the distance, a great waterfall thundered into a glassy pool, deep and dark enough to reflect each star, and on a boulder at the edge of the pool, Dream waited in his great cat shape. His luminous eyes marked her progress, but he didn’t leap down. He waited, giving her the opportunity to come to him for a change.

She had no real power in dreams, especially when she shared them with him, but she still had choice, and she chose not to keep Dream waiting.

Reaching the base of his impromptu throne, she sat and curled her tail over her feet. Warm, soft, and safe – it felt like her favorite sweater. She could almost be in her woods, having another conversation under the hush of rain.

Dream, with his voice like swelling with the force of the waterfall, rumbled, “Welcome to Fiddler’s Green. Are you ready to begin?”

“I think so.”

“Then follow me.”

He turned and leapt off the rock, out of sight, in a single fluid motion. She dithered over the best course for a heartbeat – around the boulder or over it? – and by the time she scrambled around to the far side, he was a distant shadow.

She’d learned a thing or two since their last chase. No matter how fast she ran, she’d never catch him if she ran headlong into the shadows like before.

She tried to guess where he was going rather than simply following the path he set. But she never seemed to gain ground, no matter how hard she pushed herself, and she kept having to stop to catch sight of him again.

When she lost him the fourth time and stopped to hunt for a vantage point, the massive beast sprang out of the bushes. She sprang straight into the air, yelping as her heart kicked in her chest. When she came back to the ground, she sank her claws into the dirt to keep herself from running.

“You’re pacing yourself. I need your heart to race, little dreamer.” His ears twitched, and his long tail flicked back and forth. “Perhaps I should do the chasing. You do have a talent for evasion.”

Oh, her heart was already racing. It tried to climb up her throat as he approached, moving with the intent of a confident predator. If she couldn’t catch him, she surely couldn’t escape. Not in his world. Not in the waking world, either, for that matter.

She sank low, taking little steps back without breaking eye contact. Her ears stayed pricked up, alert.

“I will not hurt you,” he said, a final assurance before the game began in earnest. “But you should run.”

He lunged, and she blasted into the trees, carried on the wings of sudden adrenaline. She’d lived with fear so long, she fell into its arms effortlessly. The smallest part of her recognized that this was a dream, that its master wouldn’t really hurt her. Everything else saw the danger and ran screaming.

While she had little hope of escaping him anywhere, she might stand a better chance in the thickets and brush in the forest. He’d be on her in two bounds if she stayed in the open.

Running on four feet worked very differently than racing on two, but for the first time since she’d dreamed herself a cat, she forgot her gracelessness. She stretched into a streak of motion, perfectly balanced, negotiating the rules of gravity as she flew between branches and under knotted roots. Quick and sleek as a moonbeam.

A very startled moonbeam. With a much larger and more aggressive moonbeam on her tail.

Dream kept close, appearing in the corners of her vision, jumping overhead, breathing down her neck. He granted no illusions of victory and no quarter for rest. He wanted her lungs to strain, her blood to pump hot and fast until she collapsed. She had no doubt he’d chase her all night if he had to.

The adrenaline pushed her past the point of tired. Past the point of fatigue and exhaustion until she tripped over her own feet and tumbled out of the forest and into the grass. As she lay there, sides heaving, Dream approached – stalking pose banished, standing straight and regal and calm as ever. Like the chase never even began.

“It is not the dream that feeds the curse.”

He laid down beside her, giving her time and space to recover. She didn’t have energy to be scared of him again.

She heaved a mighty sigh and sat up. No longer a cat.

Her human hands looked right. Felt right. But she still knew how it felt to race through the trees on all fours, what it was like to have a tail, and as her lungs gradually regained enough air to spare for speaking, she muttered, “Huh.”

Dream, also returned to his usual shape, considered her. Fiddler’s Green still felt warm and alive around them, but they were still alone, just as he’d said they’d be, and his scrutiny belonged to her and her woes entirely.

“It is all so strange for you.”

He wasn’t wrong, but –

“Not a bad strange.”

He accepted that with a warm hint of pride in his eyes.

Crickets chirred, out of sight but all around them. A few fireflies glimmered in the tallest trees, and she hugged her knees to her chest as the dream calmed and stilled in the wake of the Dream Lord’s game.

“Do you feel well enough to let me examine the curse tonight?”

She closed her eyes and wished she could find a peace that lasted more than a moment, a shared quiet cherished only for what it was, not as a tool to prepare her for worse trials. If he could get the collar off once and for all, though, maybe she could have that. In dreams and in waking. A life free of ghosts. Entirely her own.

“I’m willing. Yes.”

He nodded, and the shadows deepened. Every star sharpened, and she saw them in his eyes as he reached for her, suddenly close, and laid her back down in the grass. His hand supported her neck, urging her to give him control, to let go and let him assume the danger, the responsibility. The world thrummed with his presence, and she bit the inside of her cheek as she surrendered, falling into his hold as he hovered over her, his cloak spreading to swallow the meadow.

Had they left Fiddler’s Green? Dream’s eyes swallowed her vision, and she fought to lie still in the cool silence as her fear remembered itself.

This would hurt terribly. The collar did not like to be touched. It did not suffer threats.

Dream offered no pretty lies to counter what she knew, and his hands rose to her neck without preamble or apology. Sand whispered between his fingers, creeping into the gaps between branches, trying to create space between metal and flesh.

The collar seized like a fist, and she coughed for breath. The sand caressed her skin, keeping her grounded as the gold pressed tighter and sharper. A whine, trapped in her chest, betrayed the cracks in her courage. Dream’s eyes kept her, held her as she shook, and she stared into the Endless with growing desperation.

Fingers traced her throat, and for an instant, the collar relaxed. She gasped, jaw hanging open like she could swallow all the air she’d been denied, but the relief was a cruel taunt. Snapping tight, leaving her just enough space to scream, the curse speared thorns through her scars, and she keened, grabbing for the collar between Dream’s fingers.

The Dream King came closer, nails looking for secrets hidden from his eyes, sand caught in dripping blood. His persistence cost her.

Biting, crushing, the curse wound tighter and tighter. She spasmed, fighting and pleading for mercy from someone.

The pain went deep, poison threading into her heart, into something beyond the dream.

Her grip seized Dream’s wrists. She was far beyond words, but she screamed with every thought, every piece of her soul. And he understood.

“Something is wrong.” He released her, and the collar pulsed, stabbing her again for good measure even as the threat removed itself. “This dream is over.”

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

She sat up in her cottage, wheezing, face hot with tears.

Although Taliesin had a bedroom now – so did she, technically – they’d found themselves on the couch. She’d been afraid to dream, and he’d been eager to protect her as far as he could. He held her hand to the edge of sleep and then taken a chair. As he’d waited, he’d fallen asleep, and her waking hadn’t disturbed him.

She covered her mouth, sobbing over the dregs of her agony, and wrestled to ground herself. A cold sliver of the floor peaking between throw rugs chilled her bare foot, and a storm raged outside. Torrents of rain ran down the window in sheets, shining in pulses of forked lightning as thunder boomed, loud and near.

Her scarf was wet. How much did she cry? It was a good thing Taliesin didn’t stir – he’d be beside himself, and she couldn’t bear to fall apart in front of anyone else tonight.

She dragged herself to the bathroom, wondering if she should try a warm bath or a cold shower to banish the remnants of her dream. Her hand fell over her scarf, ready to start undressing, when she caught her reflection out of the corner of her eye.

The scarf wasn’t supposed to be red.

Shaking like a leaf in a stiff breeze, waiting to be torn away and thrown into the void, she pulled it away from her neck. It unwound to reveal a horror show of torn skin and deep bruises.

The collar’s work.

But she was awake. She was in her own little world where nothing was supposed to find or hurt her. Taliesin held her hand and Dream said she didn’t need to be afraid…

She heaved, sick to her stomach as words crawled up her throat.

“No, no, no, no, no, no…”

She tried to wipe it all away, dragging her palms over the angry marks, smearing the blood and sparking fresh spasms of pain.

It was wrong, it was wrong, it was wrong – and she had to get out. Something put its teeth in her, and she had to get away from the mirror, and the house, and anyone who might see her and tell her she was awake.

It had to be a dream. It had to be. This was a mistake, the collar hadn’t…

She floundered through the living space, groping for escape as she threw open the door and sprinted out into the storm.

Chapter 6

Fire on Fire | chapter. 02 | Morpheus x Scarlet Witch!Reader

Pairing: Morpheus x Scarlet Witch!Reader (she/her) Summary: The Lord of Dreams falling in love with a being capable of spontaneous creation – what could possibly go wrong? Note: You are not Wanda Maximoff. You’re just you who happens to be the Scarlet Witch and all that entails. previous chapter: chapter. 01 | A/N: no beta we die like jessamy

Dream of the Endless stood outside a quaint red brick house on a quiet street at the edge of a small village not too far from London. Ordinary and terribly common, blending in with the rest of the houses on either side of it and even the ones across. Why would his search lead him here?

A flashing image in his mind’s eye had him sucking in a sharp breath – an image of you and a dull stranger living out your lives in such an unremarkable home, in domesticated bliss – with a dog perhaps? Or a few offspring? His face darkened at the implication of that thought.

“Cursed they be who would dare to tear us asunder.” He recalled the vow he made to you – one he fully intends to keep.

Morpheus followed the stone path dotted on the ground leading up to the red door atop a small set of steps. Millenniums of courtly etiquette compelled him to knock out of instinct and by the time he realized what he’d done it was too late. So – he waited.

“Darling, is that you?” A bout of relief and horror washed over him in equal measure at the familiar ring of your voice. Relief for the rather joyful colour in your tone. Horror for the heart-rending realization that you had moved on as he feared – with the dull stranger so beneath him, so beneath you.

The Lord of Dreams considered turning back, retreat to his realm where he could lick his wounds and nurse his pride. Just as he took a step back, however, the red door swung open to unveil a face he hungered for all these years. He felt his eyes sting then.

Your face scrunched in concern, reaching out to cup the side of his face, tenderly stroking the damp skin there, “Hey…” you cooed, eyes roving over his tearful face, “Come inside and tell me what happened.”

Morpheus felt his body move along with you in a trance-like state, eyes glassy and vulnerable. The only feeling was the burning warmth of your hand in his as you led him through the corridor and into a homely kitchen bespeckled with hints of you –  from the mismatched mugs seen through the glass window of your cupboard to the opened copy of The Hobbit by J.R.R Tolkien laid out on the table by the window with the dark green curtains.

You sit him down at the table before taking your place across from him, hands still interlocked, “Speak to me, my love.”

It was here that Morpheus observed something amiss. So overcome was he by his loss of you and the natural way in which you held him so sweetly that he unconsciously turned a blind eye to the glaring fact that you have not seen him for a century.

This was most certainly you. He had no doubt of it. That only baffles him further, however.

“Morpheus?”

“How…” He started aimlessly, unsure where to go from here, “How can you be…” His free hand gestured towards you, “…like this – after what I’ve done?”

The corner of your lips quirked up in a mixture of confusion and amusement, “What are you talking about? And what have you done, my love?”

“I abandoned you!” He exclaimed with a tortured heart as his hand held in yours swiftly retreated back to his side,  “I—” before he could go off on a tangent of self-hatred, he noticed the swirls of red in your eyes. Oh.

“Oh, Y/N, what have you done?”

Your eyes narrowed then, full of suspicion and distrust. You rose from your seat at the table and added some distance between you and the Dream Lord, “You are not my Dream.” You stated, calm and absolute in your claim. One hand by your side shaped an orb of red energy into being with tendrils of loose magic curling between your fingers, “Is that you, Desire? Have you come to torment us again?”

Morpheus moved to stand slowly and carefully, hands held out in front of him as if in surrender, “It is I, my sweet, your Sandman,” He implored cajolingly, “You must let me hel—” He felt an immediate tightness on his throat, your magic reaching out for his neck for an unfaltering grip. His hands clawed at nothing while keeping his eyes steadfastly locked to yours. “I—I wo—uld ne…er—” despite the struggle, Morpheus persevered, “—lie…to you.” His eyes watered from the pressure of your magic, “Lo—ok…inside.”

 You understood what he meant, and it threatened your resolve.

Morpheus felt the invasion not long after, flipping through his memories and every thought he has ever had. Sometimes he would feel you pause at some– like the stunt in the throne room after a verbal foreplay gone too far; then you moved to the tender moment in a hidden alcove in his library, his head on your lap as you read to him the story of one Elizabeth Bennet and Fitzwilliam Darcy; then to the evening of your first fight, when jealousy got the better of him.

As you ransacked his mind it gave Morpheus an opening to enter yours and there he saw your life for the last hundred years. He saw you beg Death, made whatever promises you thought would appease the Endless enough to bring you to him. He saw his beloved sister turn you away. He watched Desire took his form to twist your longing for your Dream Lord. He watched you fall to your knees when it finally dawned on you that he was never coming back. He watched as your magic fully engulfed your being and manifested this delusion you have imprisoned yourself in.

He felt the pressure leave his throat and his hands landed right on the table to support his physical form from keeling over. He raised his head to look at you piece the pieces together – watching as your face shift from confusion to utter devastation. As if the feeling of abandonment for a hundred years rushed to you all at once.

“I’m sorry. I’m so sorry.” You chanted like a prayer, knees buckling until they hit the tiled floor, your hands clutching your aching heart, “I—I didn’t mean to—I’m sorry.” You could only sob.

Your Dream moved around the table to approach you without hesitation, falling to his knees in front of you to drown you in his embrace, “No, my love,” He cooed, his fingers brushing through your hair, “I’m sorry.”

“Cursed they be who would dare to tear us asunder.” Here, with you in his arms, he vowed anew.

special thanks to @thegreatestsandwich for the prompt! tag list: @lenasvoid | @iwantagoodstorytoread | @whocaresinlifeife | @starsleeping-m | @secretsthathauntus | @shitpostrandomness | @leighanne03 | @strugsto-func | @lol-im-done | @kittycatcait2 | @imissyoudarling | @toastedside | @blue-and-yellow-jjk-pjm | @mysticalpandora | @blueeclipsepaperstudent | scratched out urls means I couldn't tag you for some reason, sorry!

Masterlist

At this point I write for:

I. THE SANDMAN

The Raven's daughter

part 1 : The fateful meating.

part 2: From the Waking...

part 3: ... into the Dreaming.

part 4: A tour of the castle.

part 5: Questions.

part 6: A hell of a day.

(sneak peak) of part 7

part 7 : A kickass party

part 8 : Late night talking

part 9 : Past, present, future

Part 10 : Escapism Part 11 : Hob

The counterparts

Prologue

Chapter 1 : sometimes reality sucks

Chapter 2 :Welcome back to reality

Chapter 3: A rough nightmare

Chapter 4 : crumbling

Chapter 5: Falling to pieces

Chapter 6: Reunited

Chapter 7: Remedies

Chapter 8 : The Fates

Chapter 9 : On the verge

Chapter 10: Opposing sides

Chapter 11 : Hell is a place you believe in

One-shots (and two-shots tbh)

Morpheus reading his fanfiction: part 1,part 2

Morpheus lover being a vortex: part 1, part 2

Just an apple : a fruit engagement

Eight letters

The Sandman incorrect quotes: part 1, part 2

Comfort

Morpheus lover being on her period

Mutually beneficial : sneak peak,full story

Stranger in the Library

Take a hint

Kupala night: Morpheus x slav!reader

Night shift

Be careful who you bring home

Be careful who you bring home pt 2

Side effects

The perks of injuries

Devilish invention

Over the top

Sleep paralysys demon Get ready for the show: Dream x reader x Corinthian x Hob Endless glorious purpose: Morpheus x Loki

II. SWEETBITTER

Gritty:

sneak peak of chapter 1chapter 1 : Welcome to New York

sneak peak of chapter 2

chapter 2 : If we ever meet again.

Chpater 3: Bruises.

sneak peak of chapter 4

chapter 4 : Get out of my life

sneak peek of chapter 5

III. MARVEL CINEMATIC UNIVERSE:

SHADOW : Marvel OC

Prologue

sneak peak of chapter 1

ONE SHOTS

Daredevil incorrect quotes

Marvel incorrect quotes

Marvel incorrect quotes pt 2

Conflict of interests: Matt Murdock x reader

Clingy: Matt Murdock x reader

Here and now: Matt Murdock x OC

Hello devil : Matt Murdock x reader

Workaholic insomniacs:Matt Murdock x reader

Mind the words : Matt Murdock x reader

Torn : Matt Murdock x reader

Not enough: Murdock x Reader x Barnes sneak peak

Secret: Bucky Barnes x f!Reader

25th hour : tasm!peter parker x workaholic!reader

"trick or treat"ing with Marvel characters

IV. DC UNIVERSE

Cheshire!verse : Jason Todd x reader

Five years later:

Cheshire cat

Than damn gala

Toxic : Dick Grayson x reader

part 1

part 2

ONE SHOTS

Instincts : Dick grayson x reader

Workout : Dick Grayson x reader

Walls: Dick Grayson x reader

Duality: Dick Grayson x reader

Lost: Jason Todd x reader

Jealousy : Gar Logan x f!reader x Conner Kent

Quiet: Dick Grayson x f!reader

I won't hurt you : Dick Grayson x reader

Babystitting: Dick Grayson x reader

V. HARRY POTTER

ONE SHOTS:

Common ground : George Weasley x reader

VI. THE UMBRELLA ACADEMY

ONE SHOTS

umbrella academy incorrect quotes pt.1

umbrella academy incorrect quotes pt 2

"trick or treat"ing with the umbrellas

We're all broken here: five hargreeves x sis!reader

VII. WEDNESDAY

ONE SHOTS

safe space: Xavier Thorpe x fem!reader Bubble : Ajax Petropolus x fem!reader Who's the monster now? : Tyler Galpin x fem!reader Cemented: Ajax Petropolus x reader Rumor has it: Xavier Thorpe x reader Consolation: Enid Sinclair x reader

Feel free to request anything, also beyond those fandoms. I always appreciate a good idea.

Hopes and Dreams

Artist credit:  201224 by exellero on ArtStation.

Summary: you are a new Goddess: Hope. You were made for one of the Endless siblings if not all of them, and humanity. You must figure out which sibling you were made for. But what if they don’t want you?

In this chapter, you have a existential crisis under the stars. You also provide some inspiration to Dream. 

Pairing: Dream of the Endless x F!Goddess Reader, Dream x OC Reader  

Warning: Dream being Dream

Word Count: 2185

Note: This is a continuation series; I’m not sure how long it will be

Masterlist Series Link

Part One, Part Two, Part Three, Part Four 

Part Five: Under the Dancing Stars 

It was not difficult to establish my routine in the Dreaming. In the mornings I would have tea with Merv and Lucienne. They would discuss with me matters in the Dreaming that needed tending to. In the afternoon I would tend to the needs they discussed. Often when I tended to those needs the residents of the Dreaming would flock to me. They would tell me about their day, and slowly they would ask me to share my gift with them. I always found it so interesting that Dreams and Nightmares use so much Hope and Pain in their work. It was a wonder to me how they haven’t burnt out in the centuries before. 

In the evenings I would tend to the humans. Sometimes with Dream, sometimes with Death. Dream was always so diligent. We were on a strictly timed schedule and had to get through a set amount of dreamers in a night. It was work that kept me and my mind busy. 

So busy that I hadn’t realized that I spent four years in the Dreaming until Death brought it up. She joked about Dream and her sharing custody of me and switching every thirty years, and Dream only had twenty-six left with me. 

Four years. 

That number replayed in my mind as I lay in Fiddler’s Green. The grass was warm against my skin, and the night air smelled of lilac and jasmine. I stared up at the starred sky and thought about how much I have done with my existence. More so about all that I had not done. Humans had such a short amount of time to accomplish the things they wished. The very things I felt them Hope for, Dream for. I felt the Pain they felt when their Hopes and Dreams did not come true. Or worse, they did come true, but they were lost soon after. I was the driving force behind those emotions. 

My thoughts turned in my head. 

Was it cruel of me to put Hope in peoples’ hearts and minds? Would they be better off without Hope in the first place so that they did not feel the Pain that came with it? 

Their lives are so short… do they have time for Hopes and Dreams? 

I felt a person lay down next to me; I did not turn my eyes away from the stars. 

“Cori, I am not in the mood to be bullied at present,” I say, my eyes still not moving. 

“What troubles you, Little Goddess?” That voice. The voice that I could listen to for hours on end. The very voice that seemed to calm my soul, ignite it, and challenge it,  all at once. 

I broke my prolonged stare with the sky and found myself inches apart from the King of Dreams. I looked at his hair, his eyes, his lips, his neck. Slowly I trailed my eyes upward. 

“I feel as though I am not doing enough for the humans… or that I am doing too much to them,” my eyes found a spot on Dream’s coat. I did not like admitting such things while he looked me in the eye. 

“Doing too much to them? You are their Goddess; you exist to manage their Hope and Pain,” he said as he crossed his arms and folded them behind his head. It was the most relaxed I had ever seen Dream. 

I nodded, trying to convince myself that his words rang true. 

“Do you think their lives would be easier if Gods and Goddess and the Endless did not interfere with them? What would happen if we all let go? Would the humans fall? Or do we think they would collapse because we are self-entitled creatures filled with pride, and we cannot fathom a world where humans were self-maintained? A world where we are not needed.” 

Dream, to my absolute shock, laughed. The sound was low and smooth. My eyebrows furrowed in confusion and annoyance. 

He shook his head, his hand reached out to my face. Ever-so-lightly he traced the wrinkle between my brows.

“I do not know, Artemea. Maybe they would thrive, maybe they would fall. But what I know is Hopes and Dreams are the foundation of mankind. Without us, there is no love, no art, no innovation. We are good for mankind. Do not doubt that. Even Pain and Nightmares have their purpose,” his hand slowly withdrew from my face, and he rested it at his side.

Our pinkies lightly touched. 

Neither of us acknowledged it, and neither of us moved away. 

“Sometimes it’s hard not to hurt for them. Maybe that is my penance for the Pain I must deliver,” I said, my eyes now locked with Dream’s. The sheer otherworldliness of them took my breath away. 

Dream’s hand at his chest curled into a fist, “Your work does not deserve penance, Artemea. You are doing what you are made to do, and you are doing it well. A creature as kind as yourself should not feel such guilt for your function.”

You are doing it well

The words sunk into me; hitting far deeper than I would have thought they would. 

I roughly nodded at Dream, my voice failing me. 

“You should rest, Goddess.” Just as I was about to say I wasn’t tired, “I know of your exhaustion. I know you do not sleep well. So, rest, little Goddess, for there is much to do tomorrow.”

I fell asleep on the soft land of the Fiddler’s Green, the night sky above me, and the King of Dreams at my side. 

The next morning I wondered if it was a dream. I woke up alone, with no evidence of the King ever being there in the first place. 

I stood up and rolled my shoulders. I was late for my morning tea. 

The rest of the day went without a hiccup and fell into my established routine. 

                                                Six years later 

“Morpheus, you need a break,” I said, pacing the throne room. Dream looked at me as though I told him he needed to turn my skin blue. I shook my head, “In order for you to be fully present in your duties you need to take some time for yourself.”

Dream ran a hand down his face and groaned, “You sound like Death.”

“Death is a very brilliant woman. Come on, Dream! I know how you have been struggling with inspiration; I have the perfect night planned. All you need to do is say yes,” I said, letting my power bleed into the room. I wanted Dream to know how much I hoped for him to just agree. 

“I can give you three hours, no more, no less,” he said, slowly walking down the staircase that led to his throne. 

I smiled, bright and large, “Perfect.”

Without warning, I grabbed him by the hip and transported us into the human realm. When we landed I snapped my fingers, and with it, our clothing changed. Human fashion changed so frequently that I had to verify earlier in the day what would be appropriate attire for the ballet in Italy in the year 1841. 

I wore a large corseted dress with a bell-shaped skirt. The color was a soft pink and it had embellished flowers along the bodice and the hem of the skirt. My wings hidden from human eyes. Dream wore a fine tuxedo with high-waisted trousers and slightly heeled loafers. I looked at him and giggled. 

Dream rolled his eyes, “You are a rude thing, Goddess.”

Despite his words, he linked his elbow to mine and began leading us away from the humans. 

“I am not laughing at you, I promise! It’s just so different seeing you like…”

His eyebrow rose, as he stared at me from the corner of his eye, waiting for me to finish my thought. 

“Two hours and fifty minutes,” was all he said when he realized I wasn’t going to finish my statement. 

I lightly pinched his forearm, “Just see, Dream. Soon you will not be counting down the minutes.”

“Two hours and forty-nine minutes,” he said, no emotion in his tone. 

I rolled my eyes and ushered us inside and to our seats. I had managed to get us a few rows away from the front of the stage, directly in the middle. 

I twisted my head around and saw all the humans around me. I felt each of their Hopes in the back of my mind. 

Dream was stiff as a board next to me. He was uncomfortable being so close to this many humans. And I’m sure he was not favoring the clothing I had given him. 

I opened my mouth to apologize for his uncomfortable state, but the sound of a violin cut my thoughts. 

The violin was a soft, warm sound. A cello joined the violin, it deepened the music, making it richer and more vibrant. It was like the instruments were playing a game of tag. One would build and build, and the other would come rushing in to create a masterful harmony. They alternated, creating this building crescendo that stalled the breath in my lungs.

At the highest point, at the climax of the music, every instrument remaining in the orchestra masterfully entered all at once. It created this booming, powerful sound that echoed in the theater. Each instrument blended perfectly. Every sound that came was utter bliss and joy. 

Then the dancers came out. Two women, walking on the very tips of their toes. It didn’t look like they were taking steps; it looked like they were gliding, like they were floating across the stage. It made me wonder how elegant they would be if they had an eternity to practice their craft. 

I finally broke my stare of the women, to see how Dream was enjoying himself. He sat with his arms crossed, and his back straight. But his eyes did not leave the stage. He was in awe of them. 

I leaned forward to the shell of his ear, and whispered, “Give me your hand.”

Dream looked at me, a wrinkle between his brows and a light color to his cheeks, but he gave me his hand. 

I held his hand in mine. It was calloused and large, but he was gentle, almost hesitant. I ran my thumb along his knuckles. I saw Dream shiver, and I had to bite back a smile. 

I closed my eyes and let every human around me in. I only let their current awe and hope fill my chest. I felt how each human was so utterly impressed and entranced by the art before them. Music and dance were a form of Hope in themselves. I felt the musicians' Hope and love for their craft. I felt the dancers’ determination to get each movement right, and the joy they felt when they knew it was going well. Art was a beautiful thing. I took those feelings in and I reflected them in my own power. I held Dream’s hand tighter and took a shaky breath.

I opened my eyes and Morpheus was staring at me, the outside of his eyes dark, the inner bright as a star. I looked at him and saw the reflection of my eyes in his. My own had a golden glow;  I saw the gold of my eye in the darkness of his. 

I smiled and slowly let the humans’ beautiful feelings about what they were seeing funnel into Dream. I looked down at our entwined hands, and mine had started to glow just as bright as my eyes. Dream quickly covered it in a veil of his own shadow, hiding us from the eyes of the humans. 

But I continued to funnel the feelings into Dream. I let him feel just how much Hopes and Dreams affected people. I let him feel the best of what humankind has to offer. 

I watched the women dance and I was in a trance. The beauty in their movements and their emotions nearly blinded me. 

“Isn’t it so beautiful?” I asked him with tears in my eyes. I took a steadying breath and looked back at Morpheus. 

He was not looking at the dancers or the musicians. He was looking at me.

“The most beautiful thing I’ve ever seen,” he said, his voice rough. 

My lips parted; I was unsure of what to say. Dream tracked the movement, and blinked slowly at me. 

My lips curved upward, “It is good for you to experience humans like this every once and a while, Dream. In order to better serve them, you must in turn serve yourself.”

“You sound like you wish to be my keeper, little Goddess,” Dream whispered. 

“Perhaps not your keeper, perhaps I wish to be your friend,” I whispered back, the words soft. 

“I have no desire for friends,” Dream said, suddenly harsh. 

I shook my head and leaned closer, “Oh, King of Dreams, you cannot lie to me. I see your Hope and Pain just as clear as anyone else.” 

Dream’s lips curled into a sneer, “Zero.”

And without warning, Dream vanished. Leaving me alone. 

Taglist:

@pearlstiare @justviktormlolm​ @firerusher​ @musicconversedance​ @oo0lady-mad0oo​ @munsonmunster​ @roxytheimmortal​

Gwendoline's Masterlist!

My first attempt at a Masterlist (bare with me) It's slowly growing! These are in alphabetical order!

⋇⊶⊰❣⊱⊷⋇

❁Brienne Tarth❁

(Fuck you Jaime)

Catch what falls ➺ Brienne Tarth X FEM!Warrior!reader (pt.2 possibly otw)

‿︵‿︵୨˚̣̣̣͙୧ - - ୨˚̣̣̣͙୧‿︵‿︵

✬Captain Phasma✬

(I'll fix your helmet, it's okay bae)

Don't shoot ➺ Captain Phasma X FEM!Jedi!reader (WIP! started 8/20/23)

‿︵‿︵୨˚̣̣̣͙୧ - - ୨˚̣̣̣͙୧‿︵‿︵

❁Jan Stevens❁

(Fuck you Billy)

Little rabbit ➺ Jan Stevens X FEM!reader (Coming soon!)

‿︵‿︵୨˚̣̣̣͙୧ - - ୨˚̣̣̣͙୧‿︵‿︵

✬Jane Murdstone✬

(She definitely uses the maidens *personally*)

What an odd book ➺ Jane Murdstone X FEM!Maiden!reader (Coming soon!)

‿︵‿︵୨˚̣̣̣͙୧ - - ୨˚̣̣̣͙୧‿︵‿︵

❁Larissa Weems❁

(We do not stan Marilyn)

Love can't shift ➺ Larissa Weems X FEM!Professor!reader (Coming soon!)

‿︵‿︵୨˚̣̣̣͙୧ - - ୨˚̣̣̣͙୧‿︵‿︵

✬Lucifer Morningstar✬

(Morpheus down bad for that one)

Good girls go to Hell ➺ Lucifer Morningstar X FEM!Fallen!reader (Coming soon!)

‿︵‿︵୨˚̣̣̣͙୧ - - ୨˚̣̣̣͙୧‿︵‿︵

❁Miranda Hilmarson❁

(My poor baby)

Library Incident ➺ Miranda Hilmarson X FEM!Librarian!reader (Coming soon!)

✬Titania✬

A forest of green ➺ TitaniaXFem!Reader

(Coming soon!)

⋇⊶⊰❣⊱⊷⋇

Let me know if I missed any of your favorite characters of hers and I will add them and create a story for them! Might I also add, my stories will become OC based. Meaning, they will have assigned details, like a name, hair style/color, eye color, and aesthetic. I apologize if most or some, of you do not like this change; but with the stories being OC based, it'll be easier on my writing flow so I'm able to get more stories out there!

☜♡☞

Interwoven

Dream of the Endless x Fem!Reader (OFC)   Complete | Next in Series: The Complications of Family  Previous in Series: Possession Writing Masterlist

Mature Content | AO3 | 18+ Minors DNI | 6/6 Chapters 

Chapter 1 | Chapter 2 | Chapter 3 | Chapter 4 | Chapter 5 | Chapter 6

Summary:  Dream has a lot of people in in the long span of his life and a growing relationship means finally meeting them. Or in other terms, Dream and Dahlia’s casual relationship is turning not so casual.

Taglist: @true-queen-of-mischief, @jesllianaquilesrolon, @khaleesihavilliard

If anyone wants to be tagged, pls comment

I'll try to post the chapters everyday BUT I don't have an specific time to post, so just watch out for the posts

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"All that we see or seem is but a dream within a dream"

-Edgar Allan Poe

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The icy glass no longer seemed to bother his skin, his bare white skin no longer felt shame at being exposed, and his mind still relaxed in sanity at not catering to the selfish desires of Roderick Burguess and now his son Alex

Dream of The Endless, King of The Dreams and Nightmares, so easily subjugated and stripped of his powers. He couldn't help the feeling of satisfaction rising in his chest at the sight of Roderick bleeding at his feet, and at one moment he felt as if he could smile, but he knew that his torment would not end there

Although he didn't need rest or sleep, Morpheus closed his eyes and took short naps to at least escape from the cruel reality he was experiencing. For it was during these moments that he began to see her, the woman who seemed to hold the Endless's mind in an iron grip

The black skin, the bright eyes and an unusual smell of lavender mixed with coffee but he could never fix his eyes on her figure and he could only, unfortunately, see blurs in front of him. Although his misery came to an end when he finally saw her

The woman was wearing a short black dress, barefoot in the middle of a simplistic room as she arranged candles in a circle and had an open book on the bed. Dream just watched her, not wanting to distract her from her peaceful moment

Kalliope smiled and with a hand gesture lit all the candles at once, at that moment the Endless smiled minimally and closed his eyes feeling the power that hovered in the air at that moment

"Witch..." the word came delicately from the brunette's lips, watching the woman sit between the lit candles and close her eyes

The woman's lips uttered words in an ancient language, causing Morpheus to squeeze his eyes shut. The power was so great that if he stretched out his hand, he could touch it with his fingertips

Kalliope opened his eyes, turning his head to where Dream was, and at that moment Dream opened his eyes. The meeting of eyes caused goose bumps to rise in both their bodies, the flames of the candles rose abnormally and Morpheus dared to come closer

The brunette knelt in front of the candles, the flames illuminating his pale face in disbelief, and Kalliope sighed. Now the woman could feel the power of that figure, that power seduced her and called her

Morpheus felt Kalliope, Kalliope felt Morpheus. Their powers seemed to talk to each other and even complement or desire one another

"Who are you...?" Kalliope whispered and tried to touch his candle-lit face, Morpheus sighed as he heard the melodic tone of her voice

Before Dream could answer the witch, a noise brought him out of his personal paradise. Blue eyes turned cold and hard again, he couldn't wait to meet the witch again

For now, the Dream King had his own dream to return to and rest in for the sake of his escape from reality