#Dream x fem!reader

[hunny-beann]

I am literally having the worst day ever, do you think you could write some insanely fluffy Dream for me? I'm talking tooth rotting levels of fluff here.

Rest Now, Wife, Mine

Dream of the Endless x f!Reader

Note: Hi anon! Thanks a ton for the adorable request, I had a lot of fun with it and really hope it helps make your day feel a bit better <3

Synopsis: Morpheus' wife finds their bed far too lonely without him in it, and seeks out his presence to remedy this so she may finally succumb to slumber for the evening.

Thankfully, he is all too happy to oblige.

Warnings: None! Just pure and unbridled fluff :)

Word Count: 1,298

Her steps are silent and her pace slow as she approaches the familiar throne room, sensing even from outside of its walls that it is as close to empty as it is going to get for the evening.

That said, as close to empty as possible for the throne room of an Endless such as Dream was not nearly as empty as one might think, with it being a rarity that he not be found there.

She fights back a shiver as she steps across the threshold, her bare feet suddenly far colder than before, and her majority uncovered shoulders beginning to undergo horripilation at the seemingly inexplicable shift in temperature.

That said, being easy to explain was not a rule that the Dreaming followed, so this was nothing new, and certainly nothing unexpected.

Though, the sudden voice that split the once heavy silence in twain on the other hand, was.

"And what could possibly have you awake at such an hour, dear wife?"

The voice asked quietly, laced with both amusement and even a twinge of concern that had the wife in question smiling softly in spite of her best efforts to not appear excited at the mere sound of her love's voice.

Oh, but she had never been that strong, had she?

He had her wrapped around his finger just as he did the entire realm that he ruled, though he notably reserved the one with the ring for her and her alone.

She padded up toward his throne quietly, not willing to answer his question until she was close enough that her voice might not reverberate so loudly off of the palace walls.

Some words, she had decided long ago, were for her husband and her husband alone.

Upon her eager approach, the Lord of Dreams could not help but raise one of the corners of his mouth at the mere sight of her, holding his hand out at her nearness to guide her to stand before his crossed legs as he reached gently to take her other in his own as well, making a mental note of how chilled her extremities felt due to the cool night air of his throne room.

He watched as she slackened slightly at his familiar touch, her body always so happy to find him near in a way never ceased to have his heart all but melting at her feet.

What a disastrous little thing she was, truly.

He could never love another.

As her form relaxed at the feeling of his hands on hers, so loving in spite of the power that they held, she could not help but yawn softly, eyes growing teary as her ease allowed the weight of the day to truly set in.

Her dearest Dream Lord smirked up at her, his brow raised knowingly and his eyes twinkling as he watched her fight off the eternally tempting wiles of sleep.

What a sweet little thing, so helpless in her battles against her own biology that it was entirely too amusing to ignore, and always far too entertaining to neglect to bear witness to.

"You are tired, my dear."

The Lord of Dreams stated matter of factly, tugging his beloved closer using his soft grip on her hands so he could properly brush some of her hair behind her ear, a gesture which caused her eyelids to flutter closed briefly before they snapped open once more, her fight against herself not yet over in her eyes (though Dream could see clearly in the way that she swayed on her own two feet that there was already an obvious victor).

He chuckled quietly, shaking his head,

"You need to rest, sweet stardust. Let me bring you back to the bedroom."

He spoke gently, rising to guide her back to their soft and familiar bed only to halt when he heard her reply.

"No, I don't want to go back, you're just going to leave once you think I'm tired enough not to follow."

The Dream Lord faltered upon hearing this, raising a questioning brow in response before lowering himself down upon his throne once more, though this time he pulled his wife right along with him, sitting her on his lap in order to get a better look at her exhausted expression.

He frowned.

"Have you been staying awake on purpose, my love? Lying in wait for me as you promised you would not do?"

She shook her head, but he could see the way that the blood rushed into her cheeks as she tried to explain, embarrassed to admit the things that she had to in order to quell his worries of any intentional harm having been done.

"No, of course not, I just..."

The Lord of Dreams hummed and brought one hand to her back, rubbing up and down along her spine and feeling her lean against him unintentionally in response, her bones heavy and all too prepared to sink into whatever comfort they could find.

"You just what, dearest?"

He urged, causing his lover to nod blearily in response, slowly coming back to reality again.

"I just find that sometimes I cannot bear to sleep alone, that the bed feels far too wide and empty without you in it."

Dream fought back a slight smile upon hearing this, feeling more than a little bit proud to know that his wife could rely upon him enough to truly need him so (though he was notably unhappy to hear that this was causing her any amount of unnecessary strife).

"And is tonight one of those nights, beloved?"

He asked, watching as she nodded, her head lolling slightly upon her neck as her overworked muscles struggled to remain in control over her all too tired body and mind.

"Poor thing,"

Dream all but purred in response, adjusting his love upon his lap until she was leaning against him, breaths warm on his neck and body seeming to grow heavier by the second as the feeling of his familiar closeness drove her into a type of ease that was felt only at a lover's closeness.

"That will certainly have to be remedied, won't it?"

He murmured against her ear, feeling her shiver in response, nuzzling closer with a nod as he gathered his coat that had been hanging on the back of the dais behind him with just one hand, draping it over her body and pressing a soft kiss against her head as he felt her begin to drift off into a much needed and far too well deserved slumber.

"Rest now, wife, mine."

He said softly, feeling his dearest love smile gently against his skin at his familiar words and the use of his favorite (and almost sickeningly sweet) nickname for her,

"I will see to it that no one interrupts you as you do."

If she had been more awake, perhaps the woman would have rolled her eyes or even offered a sarcastic retort in response to her husband's dramatics, but instead she simply nudged herself closer, pressing a gentle kiss against the pale flesh of his neck before she drifted off for the very first time that night, feeling truly safe in the arms of her most adoring love.

And when morning arrived, and the throne room became far less uninhabited, the two of them made for quite a sight, indeed.

After all, who would have thought that the Lord of Dreams might choose to sleep simply to live life as his dear wife did, his cheek pressed gently against her head and his arms wrapped around her as slumber found them both, pulling them closer together, ever still, in the very same way that they belonged now, and always would for the remainder of eternity, and perhaps even beyond that.

ao3 link

[saraicus]

Pastries, With Love | Morpheus x F! Reader

Warning: Pregnancy mention 

Requested by: None

Notes: Sorry for the long hiatus. This was a cut scene from the “So, Mote It Be” series that I recently found. You don’t have to read the series to understand this part! 

If you'd like to be a part of “The Sandman” tag list, just ask me. Requests are Closed.

Word count: 1.8K

Masterlist

You could see the familiar pathway to the doors until your nose picked up something. Sweet berries with sweet bread filled your nose, and you looked to your right to see a bakery. A baker had placed a dozen blueberry muffins inside the display case; you quickly let go of Morpheus’ hand and rushed inside the bakery. Morpheus called your name, but you ignored it and entered the bakery. The store smelled of sweet, ripe berries and baked goods, with a faint smell of chocolate and coffee. The frontman smiled at you and asked, “Hello, what can I get for you?” Your mouth began to drool as you looked around the bakery to take everything in. There were muffins, bagels, loaves of fresh bread, cinnamon rolls, pies of every fruit, and cakes filing every display case. You looked around and asked, “Can I have half a dozen blueberry muffins, a slice of blueberry pie, two cinnamon rolls, and a cup of coffee?” The man’s eyes widened, and he whispered okay before getting a box to fill with what you requested.

The doorbell rang when Morpheus came inside; he walked next to you and said, “Don’t run away like that again; you scared me.” You smiled sheepishly and giggled at his face; he sighed and looked at the baked goods. “What did you order?” he asked while walking around the bakery. “An order of half a dozen blueberry muffins, a slice of blueberry pie, two cinnamon rolls, and a warm cup of coffee for the lady,” announced the man as he set it down by the table, “That should be 20 silvers.” Morpheus’ eyes widened, and he looked at you; you didn’t look at him and smiled at the man. Morpheus sighed and pulled out his pouch to give the man the money; the man smiled as Morpheus grabbed the two boxes, and you grabbed the coffee. You gave the man an energized wave goodbye and smiled while sipping your coffee.

“Are you sure you’re going to eat this all?” Morpheus asked while walking back to the doors, “Isn’t this unhealthy for the child?” You looked at him with your cold eyes and narrowed them. Sipping the coffee, you shook your head; no, he sighed and opened the doors for you. Morpheus walked to the kitchen with you trailing behind and placed them on the kitchen island. You heard the familiar wings flapping and saw Matthew land on the island. “Oh, I thought I smelled something,” he said while swaying his tail, “What did you get?” Morpheus opened the boxes to show off the baked goods you got, and Matthew’s beak dropped. You took the blueberry muffins out of the box and the blueberry pie slice while Morpheus took out the cinnamon rolls.

You grabbed a muffin and slid it in Matthew’s direction; before he took a bite, you said, “Choke on it, and I won’t save you.” Matthew nodded and slowly ate the muffin while you took a bite out of the blueberry pie. Your eyes closed, and you smiled as the blueberry pie melted on your tongue; you could tell you would throw up afterward from the excess baked goods, but it was worth it. Morpheus decided to take a small bite out of a blueberry muffin and shrugged. Your eyes shifted to him, and you asked, “What? It’s good.”  

“An Endless doesn’t need to eat. It’s a good muffin, I think.” Morpheus replied while placing the muffin back in the box. You rolled your eyes, ate the pie slice, and then ate two muffins while sipping your coffee. Matthew slowly pecked on his muffin and looked up to see your eyes glaring at him. After finishing the muffins, you were about to reach for a cinnamon roll until Morpheus pushed them away. “(Y/N), you should eat your vegetables,” Morpheus said with a sigh. “How about you mind your business?” you said in a sassy tone, “I’m pregnant, and this baby wants a cinnamon roll.” Matthew laughed and almost choked on his muffin until he spat it out. Morpheus gave him a side-eye, which made Matthew stop laughing. “I want to make sure the baby is healthy,” he explained, “I don’t want anything happening to the baby.”

You looked at him and patted his cheek while slowly reaching for the roll. Morpheus’ eyes narrowed when he saw you take a bite of the roll in front of him. “I’ve been eating healthy for the past couple of months. The only baked goods I’ve eaten were blueberry muffins. I wanted more than that,” you said, “Besides, a pregnant woman should always get her cravings.” 

Morpheus huffed and said, “Make sure to eat slowly, then. I will be in the library with Lucienne if you need anything.” You nodded and began to eat the second cinnamon roll while Matthew was still on his first muffin. It took you two hours to finish the baked goods with Matthew; he was lying on his back with his wings spread out. You were sitting in a chair while rubbing your stomach. ‘Damn it, Morpheus was right.’ You thought to yourself. You scold yourself for eating all the baked goods, but it was worth it because you could feel your baby kicking. “Looks like the baby is happy,” you gushed, with Matthew groaning in response. You hear footsteps coming into the kitchen and see Morpheus enter it. He looked around, and his face cringed when he saw Matthew lying down. “Matthew,” asked Morpheus, “How do you feel?”

“I feel great.” Matthew managed to groan. Morpheus hummed and looked at you; he saw you were drinking milk and rubbing your stomach. “How do you feel?” He asked while kneeling in front of you; he placed his hand on top of your stomach and then gave it a soft kiss. “I feel fine; the baby kicked earlier. I assume they liked the baked goods,” you said while patting your stomach. Morpheus hummed and moved his hand around your stomach, hoping to feel the baby kick. After a few minutes, Morpheus placed his hand on the left side of your stomach and gasped. Morpheus looked up at you and said, “They kicked.” You nodded and said, “I felt it, Morpheus.” Morpheus softly smiled and helped you get up from the chair; he rubbed your lower back and led you back to his chambers. You looked behind you to see Matthew still hadn’t moved, but you could hear faint snoring. You were tired when you reached the chamber, so Morpheus took you to bed and removed your lace shawl to place it on the nightstand. You went under the covers and asked him to lay next to you. Morpheus climbed on the bed, and you laid your head against his chest. Morpheus looked at you with pure love. That was the best way to describe it. “Thank you for helping me find my real self,” Morpheus whispered in your ear.

[writethrough]

feel free to imagine a sexy interpretation. Also, I'm going to add a loss of virginity here just for fun. In this scenario, Dream is finally willing to admit to himself that he loves the reader, but he's still not willing to confess (and he's also still a possessive/obsessive jerk), so instead he chases after the woman's dreams, especially until even your wet dreams. And 2 possible catalysts here, either Dream sees that the reader is dreaming about having sex with someone else and becomes insanely jealous or he sees someone flirting with the reader in the waking world and becomes insanely jealous XD. This is so Dream, like a king, he feels entitled to the reader and his time, and while he's trying to work up the courage to confess, he makes sure the reader can't hook up with anyone else.

I Am Yours, But Are You Mine

(Morpheus x Female Reader)

Warnings: Minor language, suggestive situations, kinda possessive Morpheus

Word Count: 1651

A/N: Oh my goodness, thank you so much for being so patient! Unfortunately, Morpheus has been one of those characters that I haven't been as motivated to write. And I hate forcing myself to write when I'm uninspired. Thankfully, I found sparks of it here and there.

I tried to follow your request as truly as I could (the lost of virginity didn't quite make it), but I ran with your possible catalyst options! I do think I need to work on my jealous/entitled Morpheus, though. I think he could've turned out better.

Nonetheless, I hope you enjoy it! And thank you for requesting it!

Images of you and that human haunted him. It was all he could think about as he sat on the staircase to his throne. How that man approached you. How he smiled, and you returned it. How he made you laugh, soft and delicate.

Morpheus’ jaw tightened, and he snapped his book shut.

Was it too late?

Had he lost you before he could have you?

He closed his eyes, trying to fight those thoughts with the ones of you and him.

How, when Morpheus appeared, you greeted him with warmth and tenderness. How you touched his arm in reassurance or when you were startled. You knew he would protect you. It was instinctual how you moved closer and tucked yourself behind him.

He had never felt more vital.

And yet, earlier, you had that same kindness for that man.

How long had you known him? When did you meet him? What was he to you?

You would have told Morpheus about any romantic partners.

His fist clenched as his arm hung off his knee.

To think, mere days ago, he had realized that he loved you. He would have been content to dedicate himself to you silently. An ever-present confidant for his heart’s deepest desire. How quickly things could change.

He had to do something.

—

Morpheus had grown more agitated throughout the day. The more he thought about you and that man, the darker his mind became. 

He had finished crafting new nightmares when he sensed you had entered the Dreaming.

He had to go to you. He needed to know what that man wanted from you—and if you wanted anything from him.

You didn’t need anything from that human.

He was quick to find you within your dream.

A replica of your home, which he found strange. Rarely did your dreams play out here. You were usually conscious within the Dreaming. And his heart went out to you, knowing your day must have been stressful.

He peered into your room and nearly unleashed every nightmare in his realm.

You were laid bare with that man hovering over you.

Morpheus’ knuckles whitened. And before he could think better—before he could calm himself. He swiped the dream away and sent you into the Waking World.

—

You woke with a frustrated groan.

Of course. Of course, you had to wake up when things were getting good.

You scrunched your nose when you recalled who had been in your dream.

You sighed. At least your subconscious knew not to dream about Morpheus in his kingdom. You might actually die if that happened.

Though, the replacement for him wasn’t all bad. You had noticed the similarities when you met him right away. Tall, black hair, lithe, but his eyes were brown and not the blue you had come to love. And where Morpheus’ presence held authority and power, the stranger’s had a shyness, a quiet confidence that you may have been attracted to in a different time. However, you only wanted one being.

You stretched before climbing out of bed.

You weren’t sure when you realized you loved Morpheus, but after you internalized it, you promised to never act on it.

There had to be hundreds, if not thousands, of creatures who had fallen for the Dream King. And yet, you had only heard of two that captured his attention. Who were you to think you stood a chance of being his? He was one of the most important beings in existence. You were a measly human—here and gone before he could blink.

You shook your head.

You were grateful for Morpheus’ friendship. He listened and held an interest in you that you couldn’t understand. You would gladly take whatever relationship you could have with him. 

You slowly got ready for your day. You had more time with your early waking and decided to do more with your makeup. It had been years since you applied makeup for someone else’s benefit. But you wondered if Morpheus would notice anything different.

Scrunching your nose again, you rid that thought from your mind. Morpheus didn’t care about how you looked. He’d told you appearances meant little to him, that it was dreaming that held someone’s true soul.

You wished you could know his.

—

Morpheus would’ve broken his teeth if he were human—and perhaps his wrist, too, if he squeezed any tighter.

He stood with his hands behind his back, staring out the stained glass windows in his throne room.

He had stopped your dream from continuing, but the reality was different.

His entire arsenal of power was at his disposal. Morpheus could do whatever he wished to that human, but that would only end in you being upset with him—or furious if extreme enough.

No, Morpheus had to prove himself. He had to make you see that he was the only one for you—that only he could provide for and protect you—stand by you in the way you deserved.

And he’d do so tonight.

—

Morpheus appeared in your kitchen doorway, mind racing. Anger and fear and uncertainty beneath a stony exterior.

And then he saw you. As stunning as ever.

And it all vanished.

All except his desire to tell you.

Your kindness and strength had lured him to you the moment you met. He’d come to know how closely you held those you cared about, and somehow, he was one of them.

And the thought of letting you go, of you choosing someone else…he couldn’t fathom that.

You brought him so much peace.

You spun from your refrigerator to your island, produce in hand, and finally saw him.

“Shit, Morpheus!” You held a hand to your heart. “Give me a warning next time.”

His face remained as still as ever, but you swore you saw a passing gleam in his eyes.

“My sincerest apologies,” he said, stepping toward you.

You waved it away, half believing him.

“Want anything to drink?” you asked, chopping the first ingredient.

He scanned the food, but you weren’t entirely sure he was seeing it.

“I must ask something of you,” he said.

“Okay.” You placed the knife down. “What is it?”

“Have you found someone?”

You tilted your head, brow pinched. “Found someone?”

Morpheus never hesitated when speaking—and you weren’t sure that was the word for it now—but something made him consider his next question carefully.

“Are you spoken for?”

You opened your mouth, then closed it, slowly connecting the dots.

“Are you asking if I’m dating anyone?” Your heart picked up. He had never asked something so intimate before.

“Yes.”

“No.” You licked your lips. “No. What brought this on?”

The faintest pink graced his cheeks. His eyes shifted to the side, then back.

“...You dreamt of him.” He breathed like something terrible would happen if he spoke louder.

Your heart clenched at his look of betrayal, trying to recall what he meant. Then, your eyes widened. He must have seen what happened at the coffee shop.

“Are you talking about that guy who came up to me?” you asked.

Morpheus shifted his chin downward, the most movement he used for a nod, and didn’t break eye contact.

“Morpheus…I don’t even remember his name,” you said, being as gentle with him as possible.

The space between his brows twitched. “You dreamt of him.”

Your head dropped in embarrassment.

You shrugged. “It’s been a while.”

It wasn’t much of an explanation. Although the guy had been attractive, you weren’t interested in him when he spoke—something unnecessary in dreams. All he had to do was get the job done, but with Morpheus' attitude, you could guess why that dream ended before anything could happen.

“Are you…jealous?” you asked.

“I am a king. I do not experience jealousy.” His head lifted ever so slightly.

“Historically, you do,” you said pointedly, trying to hide your smirk.

He hummed as if annoyed, but you knew better. You had stumped him.

“You are fortunate I hold you dear,” he said. “Not many can speak to me as such.”

You laughed breathily and stepped forward, grateful your answer pacified him.

You regarded him carefully. The smooth plains of his face, the sharp lines of his jaw and nose, his blue eyes. His lips. Your feelings for Morpheus were bubbling to the surface in a way you couldn’t ignore, and to think he possibly returned them? It nearly sent your head spinning.

“You know…I wouldn’t mind if you were a little jealous,” you said.

“And why is that?” He arched a brow, trying to remain composed.

“Because then it would mean you share my feelings,” you whispered. “It would mean I could kiss y—”

Lips were on yours—warm and powerful, a surge of pent-up passion. He’d waited far too long to taste you, to know the curves of your hips and the dip in your spine.

Your body melded into his as if he was the lock and you were the key. You opened him up to things he never thought he’d want to experience again. And you kept his secrets. You protected him. Made him feel safe. He was desperate to do the same for you.

You pulled away, but Morpheus followed, giving you quick kisses until you put a hand on his chest, laughing.

“Just…give me a second.” You inhaled. “One of us needs to breathe.”

The faintest pink graced his cheeks, and you grinned.

“I apologize. It slipped my mind,” Morpheus said.

You shook your head. “Don’t. Never apologize for doing that.”

You pecked his cheek, then the corner of his mouth, and lingered just beyond his lips.

“Guess I have someone else to dream about,” you whispered, each word brushing your lips against his.

He let out a low rumble. “There is no need to dream.”

His hands grasped the back of your neck and pulled you into him. You moaned when his sand whirled around you, knowing exactly where you were headed.

Taglist: @sayumiht, @hatterripper31, @snowsatsu, @1950schick, @navs-bhat, @bookshelf-dust, @sapphireonline

If you’d like to be added to any taglists, please comment or message me with the character you’d like updates on.

[lilywastaken]

First of all I hope this is the request section second of all love your writings you’ve done so far <3 now to my request, I’ve been seeing way to many edits about dream in mr beast Antartica video. What if fem/reader went along with them and slept with in dream,sapnap, jimmy tent. It would be a dream x reader, friends to lovers or already a couple your choice :). Can’t wait to read more from you <3

⇝ARTIC COLD.

CC! DreamWasTaken x FEM!Reader.

SUMMARY: Spending 50 hours in Antarctica wasn't on your list of things to do this month, but neither was sharing a sleeping bag with your crush.

WARNINGS: Fluff, mentions of blood, illness (Dream's ill the whole time ☠️.), a lot of swearing!

A/N: My first request!! Thank you so much for it! <3 I chose the friends to lovers route with it, and kind of got carried away cause I love this idea (as you'll see)!! I'm actually really proud of this one, it might be my favourite piece of writing yet LMAO. Requests are still open!! Please don't forget to reblog/comment if you enjoy the post, it helps a lot!! Thank you all for the support! &lt;33

WORD COUNT: 5.8K

MASTERLIST.

Also on ao3!

You were used to travelling at this point.

Living with some of the biggest content creators of the year and creating content yourself meant that you were always being invited to places, whether it be conventions or get-togethers with internet friends.

And although you were well acquainted with Karl and knew who he worked for, you had never expected to be invited to be part of one of Mr Beast's survival challenges alongside your roommates and his crew, and you would've been crazy to even imagine you'd be invited to travel to Antarctica of all places.

After living for half a year in one of the warmer states in the U.S., you didn't know how you were meant to survive below 0 degrees when all you had to wear were tank tops and the occasional long sleeved shirt.

Which meant you were stuck borrowing your roommates' big chunky jackets and sweaters that they had brought alongside them for the trip.

It wasn't as if you weren't used to borrowing clothes from them, hell, you were pretty sure most of your closet consisted of Dream's clothes that were too small to fit him anymore.

But that didn't make it any less embarrassing.

"You look like a penguin."

George snorted as soon as you stumbled out of the jet's tiny bathroom, sporting one of the many jackets you were required to wear before exiting the aircraft and stepping onto Antarctica.

"Go fuck yourself." You sneered back, zipping your coat up to your chin and shoving your hands into the pockets, somehow already feeling the chill from the outside despite not having landed yet. "I'm afraid I won't be able to look as stylish as you wish me to during our stay in fucking Antarctica."

"I think you look stylish enough." Clay teased cheekily as he walked up from behind you, large hands landing on your shoulders to manoeuvre you out of his way, causing you to roll your eyes long enough to cause a headache at the cockiness he was exhibiting simply because you had chosen to wear his clothes instead of anyone else's.

"You're just saying that because it's your jacket she's wearing." Nolan commented as Karl helped him zip up the last of the many coats he was wearing, a teasing tone in his voice.

"And she looks good in it, what's the issue?" Dream didn't seem to want to back down from their back and forth, as usually happened with those. When Nolan didn't respond, the blond turned his head around and shot you a grin along with a thumbs up, his silent way of boasting after one of his so-called wins.

"You're such an idiot." You muttered under your breath as Sapnap handed you one of the many scarves that were littered across the floor, and you for one were glad that you had something to cover your face, not wanting anyone to notice the warmth that had risen to your cheeks after your small interaction with Dream.

Despite you living with him for almost a full year, he had somehow never gotten the memo about your true feelings towards him, unlike both Sapnap and George and half of the goddamn internet, who were full-on convinced that you were head over heels for the previously faceless YouTuber, and to be fair, they weren't far off.

He'd been the first one to reach out after lurking around in your streams, the first one to invite you into their server and make an effort to include you into the ongoing lore, to add you to streams with his internet friends and therefore introduce you to the people who you now considered to be your best friends.

It was inevitable, really. After countless hours spent listening to each other's voices through your speakers and being one of the first people to see his face despite his initial fear of rejection, how could you not fall in love with him? He was perfect, from the way his nose crinkled when he smiled to the countless moles adorning his body, he was perfect.

It was stupid, really, how hard you'd fallen for someone who had started out as a simple stranger on the internet who happened to also play Minecraft to one of the people you loved the most.

And you were going to make sure that he'd never know how much you truly loved him, the chances of your confession ruining the friendship you both had built too high to even consider.

"Why are you guys just standing around, we're about to land!" Jimmy came out of the cockpit, clapping his hands together and ushering everyone towards their luggage in an effort to get you to get ready quicker. "Come on! I don't want any of you catching frostbite and dying on me!"

"Wait, that's possible!?"

Despite all the layers of clothing Dream was currently sporting, he somehow managed to feel your hand wrap around his elbow, shuffling closer to his taller build as you readied to exit the aircraft.

"You okay?" He pulled his ski mask down below his lips so he could send you a reassuring smile, his juniper eyes obscured by the ski goggles that sat snuggly on his face.

"Yep. Totally okay. Totally not freaking out because we're about to spend 50 hours in the coldest place on earth. Totally fine, Clay." Your words came out of your mouth almost at the speed of light as your gloved hands fumbled with the scarf around your neck, receiving a laugh from the blond in response.

"Calm down. I doubt Jimmy will actually let us die, okay?" He moved your hands away from your face and fixed your problem himself, the smile on his lips only growing as his fingers brushed against your warming cheeks, a huge contrast to the cold air swirling outside.

"And if you do, just make sure to tell everyone to like and subscribe, okay?" A small 'oof!' left you as Chandler slammed his hands on your shoulders from behind, getting a slightly angered glare from Dream and a few giggles from the others at his action.

"Fuck you, man." You smiled, the sweet yet very brief encouragement you'd received lifting your spirits almost immediately.

But they were swiftly dampened as the doors opened, and holy fucking shit, you'd underestimated how cold it was going to be.

The sun was shining onto your small group, but not a single trace of warmth was felt on your skin, and oh god what you'd give to be back home curled underneath your bed covers holding Patches in your arms.

Jimmy didn't spare a single second to start the challenge, already heading over to the spot he'd claimed would be perfect for the makeshift camp that would be your home for the next two days.

Luckily, you'd been tasked with carrying one of the lighter pieces of luggage, and you'd be lying if you said you didn't almost busted a lung laughing whenever you saw one of the boys slip or trip and fall flat on their faces, but you did stop every time Dream stopped to cough, knowing he had caught a chill right before boarding the plane and the freezing temperatures you were being forced to travel through would likely do him no good.

After surviving a surprise blizzard and almost slipping a few times, you finally reached the spot Jimmy had marked in his mental map. You were almost ready to collapse into the soft looking snow, but of course, you were forced to put up the tents you'd be staying in, which proved even more difficult than propping up a normal tent in the woods, thanks to the never ending wind and slippy snow.

But as soon as you were allowed into the safety of the main tent, you curled into a ball in the corner and fought with your gloves to turn on your phone, which barely worked due to the cold.

"What the fuck are you trying to do with that?" Sapnap groaned as he fell to the ground in front of you, spying at the device in your hands as if he were some sort of prehistoric man and this was his first contact with fire. "You're an actual imbecile if you think there's going to be even a sliver of reception here."

You stuck your tongue out to him and moved to kick his side with your snow boots, snickering in victory as he finally moved away from you, leaving an empty spot at your side as Jimmy started to take out the strange contraptions that were required to make food in such extreme weather, but you were too tired to listen in to his explanation.

"Made you something." You visibly cringed at the sound of Dream's groggy voice before he came into view, ski mask and goggles abandoned so you could see clearly how red and runny his nose was, gloves off so he could hand you the warm packet of food he claimed to have made.

"Didn't know you were a Rudolph cosplayer.", You commented on his appearance with a sly smile, almost dropping the food as you felt him curl into your side, head falling onto your shoulder with a shaky moan of pain, clearly not amused by your attempt at a joke. "You okay?"

"No. Not okay." He whined, his warm breath hitting your neck from where his head was situated and causing goosebumps to form, your body still not used to this much proximity with him. "I feel like shit. Like… worse than shit."

You'd normally roll your eyes at such a statement, but you knew now that he was telling the truth, you'd seen the blood he coughed up the day before during your stay in Chile, and you knew that a cold could quickly turn into something way worse given the time.

You were ready to offer him help with whatever he needed, but you were cut off before you could even begin as you saw his mouth open wide from the corner of your eye.

"Wh-"

"Feed me." He attempted to say without closing his mouth, soft eyes looking up at you through his long eyelashes with a pleasing look. "C'mon. Hungry."

You tried to ignore the head creeping up your neck as you reached into the bag with the plastic spoon to scoop up some of the now lukewarm food out and into his mouth, watching as he closed his mouth around the spoon and gulped, moaning softly at the taste.

"Holy shit that might actually be the best thing I've ever tasted." He opened his mouth again, waiting for you to shovel a bit more food into his mouth.

"Oh, so what you said about my pesto was a lie?" You said, pouting in mock sadness as you repeated your action, shoving the spoon into his mouth a bit too hard and making him choke, but before you could apologise, he shook his head, answering your previous accusation.

"Okay, second best. Your cooking skills put this delicious cold goop to shame." He joked between a few chews, nudging you slightly with his shoulder. "You know that."

"Ah, so you're comparing my food to this?" You raised the bag in question and shook it a bit to further your point, trying your best to not burst out laughing at how panicked he looked as he tried to explain himself; a frown etching onto his face as you finally broke and let out a soft giggle.

"You're making fun of me." He finally seemed to realise as you nodded in response, about to shove some snow in your face if it weren't for the spoon that was shoved into his mouth and the puppy eyes you shot in his direction.

"Truce?"

The gulp he made was enough of a response for you.

Once the spoon you had used for Dream was well disposed of (you didn't want to risk getting ill yourself), you started eating some of the food yourself, Dream's head still snugly resting on your shoulder as he watched your every movement, making small talk every now and then and joining in on the conversations the others were having.

"Okay, it's like… almost midnight." Jimmy commented as he stared down at his watch, everyone staring back at him with the same bewildered expression, since the sun was still shining down onto your small camp. "We gotta get to bed."

"But it's still sunny outside!" Karl whined, pulling back the entrance slap to stare outside for a split moment, everyone immediately shouting at him for letting the cold in.

"And it's going to stay like that! Did the American school system fail you this badly!? Haven't you lot learnt about Antarctica? The sun is always up here!" George exclaimed in frustration, already zipping up his jacket, urging everyone else to abandon their food and do the same.

"Exactly! So let's get into our tents and try to get some rest, okay?" Jimmy encouraged, trying his best to keep everyone's morale up, picking up his sleeping bag and waiting for everyone to be ready before opening the tent.

"Fuck, fuck, fuck!" You heard Sapnap curse as he followed his group into the tent with their sleeping bags, your own pressed to your chest for extra warmth until you reached the tent you'd be staying in, quickly making yourself at home on the right side.

"Dibs!" You didn't even try to hide the amusement in your voice as you slammed your bag and belongings onto the plastic ground, immediately starting to zip down the giant coat you'd been wearing.

"Yeah, yeah." Jimmy rolled his eyes with a smile as he and Nolan claimed the left side, leaving Dream standing at the entrance in confusion, staring at the empty spot beside your sleeping bag as if it was an abomination of nature.

His brain hadn't seemed to comprehend that he'd be sleeping next to you when you confessed you'd feel safer sleeping in the same tent as him, he had simply assumed you'd be sleeping next to Nolan or Jimmy, not him.

"You okay, dude? You're letting in all the cold." Your voice snapped him out of the daze he had been in, rapidly nodding instead of answering since he really didn't trust his voice to work right then.

Once the tent was zipped up tight, he awkwardly shuffled towards you, watching intently as you pushed your jackets off, which left you in the tight shirt all of you wore beneath the heaps of coats.

His hands shook as he undid his sleeping bag, and he wasn't sure if it was because of the cold or because of how close to you he was going to be in a few minutes.

And he didn't know why this was affecting him so much, he'd been cuddled up into your side less than an hour ago, and he wouldn't be able to count the times you'd crawled into his bed back home after a nightmare or if you were being too lazy to make the few steps that it took from his room to yours. He'd had you in his arms, hell, he'd felt the warm skin of your waist beneath his open palms that one time he helped you decorate the Christmas tree, so why was this different?

Maybe he was deluded.

That's probably right, his cold had gotten so bad that it was affecting his senses, which meant he was now super fucking awkward around you and wanted nothing more than to hide his face in the crook of your neck and feel once again your warm skin bene-

What?

What the fuck?

What the actual fuck?

He froze in his tracks as he stopped his train of thought from going any further, his face heating up as he reviewed the thoughts about you that seemed to have infiltrated his mind.

Well…. it wasn't like he hadn't ever thought about you like that, it was sort of inevitable. You were one of his closest friends, (maybe his closest, but don't tell George that.) and yeah, maybe once in a while he had thought about kissing you, about threading his fingers through your hair and tracing every feature on your pretty face while you laid in his arms.

And… and maybe he had told himself that all those times you had come to him at night for comfort or had stayed in his arms while watching a movie, were nothing but platonic, that you would probably do the same with Sapnap or George (despite the absolute fucking jealousy he felt brewing inside of him at the thought of you lying in their arms instead of his.) and the moments you spent talking about everything and anything at the same time weren't reminiscent to all of his past relationships, because this wasn't a relationship! He was your best friend! Not some creep that was in love with the girl who trusted him the most! Nope! No way.

He nodded to himself in confirmation as he finally finished setting up his sleeping bag, flopping down onto it with an angered huff, ignoring the amused look you sent in his direction.

"You're going to sleep like that?" You questioned, poking his side teasingly, causing him to yelp and move away from your touch as if it was poison as quickly as he could, snapping his head down to look at his outfit.

His cheeks went even redder (if humanly possible) as he realised he had been this close to falling asleep in full Antarctica tactical gear, quickly shoving all of his layers off so he was in the tight shirt your two other tent-mates were also wearing.

"You're so stupid." You snorted at him with a fond smile, turning around on top of your makeshift bed to pick up your phone and some earphones you'd been smart enough to bring. "Downloaded some anime Karl recommended, you want to watch an episode before we sleep?" You offered, making sure your voice was low enough that it didn't disturb Jimmy or Nolan, who were busy talking to the cameraman; lifting an earbud in one hand and waving it around enticingly.

"Y-Yeah, why not?" He smiled back at you, awkwardly shuffling towards you and keeping his distance because he was your friend who respected your boundaries and definitely did not like you.

He sputtered out a whine as you rolled your eyes and pulled his sleeping bag flush against yours, forcing him to sit right next to you, arm to arm, leg to leg and foot to foot. He raised a shaking hand to pop in the earbud you handed to him and tried his best to focus on the screen and not on how fucking warm your skin felt against his, how cute you sounded when you let out a short snort or a low giggle, how pretty you looked from the side with the glow of your phone reflecting your features.

Fuck.

You, for one, were actually enjoying the show at hand (despite only having one earbud, but that didn't matter.), and not focusing on how close Dream was to you, something you were learning to do after all the times you'd spent curled into his side at his bed back home.

You hadn't really thought about how the sleeping arrangements would work back on the plane, you were more concerned about the plastic device Jimmy had shoved into your hand and tried his best to explain how it was supposed to help you use the restroom.

But now that you were given the time to breathe, you finally realised how close you'd be to him, the thought enough to make you want to shove your face into a pillow and scream into it like a schoolgirl, just like every time you ended up in his arms.

Before the episode could finish, the cameraman left after filming a bit of Jimmy and Nolan, the latter escorting him out and turning back around, his gaze flicking down to your sleeping bag.

"Ah, shit, your bag's ripped."

"What?" You let your phone fall onto your lap and leaned over your legs to grab at the end of what would've been your bed if it weren't for the giant gash that had split the bottom in half, exposing your socks to the outside. "Fuck! Jimmy!"

The man in question popped his head up from where he was lying down, surveying the damage before biting the inside of his cheek in thought, scratching his chin.

"Uh… I don't think we've got any spares. Are… Are you okay with sharing or something? I mean, you know Karl, he'll probably be up all night so you can probably take his or share…?"

Dream didn't want to admit how horrible the thought of you leaving his tent to share with Karl was and how disgusting he felt as the jealousy grew in a pit of his stomach as he kept on thinking about it.

"Uh-" You looked down at the threads hanging out of the tear, shrugging your shoulders as you silently agreed. "I mean… as long as Karl's okay with it…? I don't mind."

"Great! Here, let me hel-"

"You can just share with me."

Dream's groggy voice cut off Jimmy's enthusiastic one, causing all of the tent to snap their head into his direction, as if you had forgotten he was there.

"That's fine, right?"

"Yeah!" You cried out a bit too eager, quickly coughing and changing your tone of voice to a more mellow one. "Yeah, that's fine."

"Oookay! That's actually better. A lot of people huddle close for heat here so let's see if you help Dream with that cold of his, eh?" Jimmy nodded, slipping his sleep mask back down his face and lying down, leaving you and Dream wide awake and staring at each other, Nolan having slipped into his bag during your awkward conversation.

"Here." Dream got up and tried his best to pull the sleeping bag open to make more space, waiting patiently for you to unzip your snow boots and put on some fuzzy socks you'd manage to snag in Chile before taking the plane.

"Thanks," You mumbled quietly, awkwardly moving to a side of the bag so Dream would be able to fit in next to you. "For holding it open. And uhm, for offering. I really didn't want to leave the tent, plus, with Karl, Sapnap and George I doubt I'd get any sleep."

Dream snorted in affirmation, aware of how dangerous they were when put together, and he couldn't even imagine how powerful they'd be when contained in such a small space. It was his turn to throw off his boots (not even bothering to unzip them first), and quickly shove himself into the bag next to you in hopes of keeping the warmth his feet had previously been in.

After a bit of shifting and moving limbs, you finally got into a comfortable position, your body draped over his side to preserve warmth with an arm wrapped around you waist with the other tracing random shapes into the arm that was sprawled across his chest, something he subconsciously did every time you were in his arms in such a position.

"This is nice." He mumbled, half joking, half serious.

"Mhm." You hummed, not trusting yourself enough to form proper sentences, carefully resting your head onto his shoulder and tickling his cheek with your hair.

A few moments passed in the same position, Dream's warm hand rubbing circles onto your waist in an attempt to soothe your nerves, knowing how stressed you probably felt without having to ask. You almost melted in his touch as he moved his head to rub his nose into your hair, closing his eyes with a sigh.

"It's impossible to sleep." He finally broke the silence with the muttered sentence, making you giggle and hide your face further into his shoulder.

"Don't you have an eye mask?" You mumbled from your spot, voice muffled by his shirt, feeling him shift beneath you until his hands left you to pull what you assumed was the eye mask down to his face.

"Forgot about it." He grumbled, warm hands finding their spot back onto your body and continuing their ministrations on your skin, lulling you quickly to sleep, feeling as if your head had been stuffed with cotton, tired enough to ignore everything around you, especially the quiet confession that came from Dream's lips and the soft kiss that was pressed to your forehead, leaving it to be a secret of the night.

You were woken up rather abruptly, the tent opening and Karl's high pitched laugh coming in along with the cold air, making everyone in the tent groan in discomfort and move beneath the covers to preserve the warmth, including you two, who during the night seemed to have moved into a different position, your face pressed right into Dream's chest with his chin resting on the crown of your head, his hands cupping the pudge of your thighs as they wrapped around his waist, thumb rubbing in circles like he had done last night with your waist, quickly soothing you back to sleep.

"I'm going to kill you, Karl!" Nolan shouted from his bag as the boy rolled into the tent, Sapnap following close behind with a disposable camera, not trusting his phone enough in such a weather.

"You got it?"

"Yep."

Sapnap made sure the flash was off, not wanting either of you to fully wake up and ruin the moment, before snapping a few pictures of Dream and you cuddled beneath the top layer of his sleeping bag, keeping their giggles and snickers to a low before leaving the tent with a nice reminder of what had happened beneath you.

"Told you it was smart to bring a knife." Sapnap pointed to your discarded sleeping bag with a grin before fully exiting the tent, not without letting in a gust of cold wind.

That seemed to finally snap you out of your sleep, groaning softly as you wriggled in Dream's arms, stopping in your tracks as he let out an incoherent grumble and brought you closer into his arms, as if you were a simple teddy bear and not his best friend who had totally overstepped a line by actually fucking wrapping her legs around his waist as if he were your boyfriend!

"Clay." You whispered as you faced him, moving a hand to push a few of his curls out of the way of his closed eyes and observe the freckles splattered across his skin like stars in the night sky, your finger tracing the short invisible lines between all of them. "Wake up…"

"Hmng…" His hold on you tightened for a moment before returning back to normal, his way of pleading for you to give up and slip back into his arms.

"Claaayy~" you said a bit louder, pressing your finger into the tip of his nose in hopes of getting him to wake faster. "Come on, we've still got a whole day left."

"Do you think I'm actually well enough to do something?" He finally spoke, and you almost jumped at how much worse his voice sounded than last night, but that was a given due to the cold and the mix between his already muzzy voice and the deep tone his morning voice normally took. "Just stay here with me for a while…"

"But I'm well enough to do something, Clay." You mumbled, letting your arm fall by your side and attempting once again to escape his grip, smiling softly as he didn't fight this time and let you slip out easily.

You didn't make any further effort to wake him up again, giving him the luxury of sleeping in a bit longer and getting yourself ready to leave the tent, despite how warm his hold had been and how you truly wanted nothing more than to slip right into his hold and wrap your arms around him.

But you fought the urge to, exiting the warmth of your tent and rushing towards where Karl and George were building a snowman (although it wasn't much of a snowman due to Karl slipping and falling onto it every few minutes.), and offering to assist them.

Ignoring the cold and the fact you didn't have anything to decorate the so-called snowmen with, you actually had fun with them, having said goodbye to Nolan and Jimmy before they left to "claim a mountain" a few hours ago; and you were now left with four snowmen without features, so they really couldn't be called snowmen at all.

"I think it looks pretty good!" Karl hummed as he finished rolling one of the bigger parts of his snowman.

"It's just three balls of snow on top of each other, Karl." George deadpanned as he moved his goggles to see the abominations you three had made.

"I think it looks a bit like you." You stuck your tongue out at George, who returned the gesture before the both of you realised how cold it was to be doing it and quickly returned your tongues back into your mouths.

After making some food and welcoming Jimmy and Nolan back, you spent some time with Dream outside (despite how much your body was screaming at you to get somewhere warm.), and threw a few snowballs at each other, last night's events never discussed or mentioned during your conversations.

You finally realised how much time you had spent outside when Chandler announced the plane would be here in almost two hours, the fact you'd spent almost a day in the freezing snow enough to frighten you into getting frostbite.

"If my fingers fall off I want you to have them, Dream." You confessed to him as you both worked on taking down your tent, giddiness filling you at the loud laugh he let out, nodding his head with a smile beneath his ski mask.

"Yes ma'am, I'll make sure to cherish them until I die." He teased back, shoving whatever remained of the tent into a bag and wrapping some of the rope around it, letting you admire for a moment how strong he truly was before Sapnap called you over to help him with the rubbish.

You didn't have much time to talk as Jimmy hurried you all back to where you had started, where the plane was waiting in all its glory, and holy shit you couldn't wait to be back inside.

You almost tripped on the stairs from how desperate you were to get inside if it weren't for Dream's hands holding you up from behind, knowing how excited you were to get back into the warm safety of the aircraft.

You collapsed into one of the window seats with a loud dramatic exhale, closing your eyes for a moment to enjoy the warmth of the leather chairs and the exaggerated smell of the air freshener that was wafting along the main cabin.

"Fucking finally, right?" Dream laughed after shoving both your luggage into the upper compartments, knowing you'd probably be too exhausted to do it yourself after barely catching any sleep in the last 24 hours, and falling into the empty seat next to you.

"I never thought I'd say this, but…" you turned to look at him dramatically, his heart beating rapidly at your serious expression and words until you spoke. "I actually miss Florida."

He breathed out a sigh of relief along with a laugh, nodding his head in agreement as he moved his hand to wrap around yours, heart fluttering as you didn't even stop him from doing so.

"I can't wait to wear some shorts and a tank top and still be hot." You mumbled with a smile, turning your head to a side to make eye contact with him. "Although it'll probably be a bit too cold for that."

"Yeah, you never know with Floridan winters." He snorted, interlacing your fingers with his and moving to look out the window. "As long as I'm out of this coat, I'll be fine."

It was your turn to laugh, nodding your head in affirmation, and shifting on the seat to rest your head on his shoulder, much like he had done when you had first entered the tent.

Silence filled your little corner of the plane until he finally spoke, turning to you completely and making you lose the balance you previously had.

"You uh… did you hear what I said? Last… uh, last last night?"

You cocked your head to a side like a confused puppy would, shaking your head, a no.

"Uh… well… Shit I'm really going to regret this." He breathed out as a laugh, raising his free hand to pull off his ski mask and ruffle up his curls. "I… I kind of, well… kissed your forehead. And said I- I love you."

Your brain short circuited at his words, blankly staring into his eyes as if your body had stopped just so your mind could make any sense of what he was saying.

"In a non-platonic way."

"In a non-platonic way." You parroted, blinking like a fool as you watched him panic underneath your gaze.

"Yeah."

"Oh."

"Oh."

Silence once again filled your little corner, both of your hands still intertwined and both your gazes locked together, Dream's whole body ready to give out if you didn't give him an answer soon.

"Please say somet-"

"I love you too." Your confession cut him off, his mouth hanging open with unsaid words ready to come out, looking something akin to a fish out of water gasping for air.

"O-Oh!" He breathed out, his body finally catching up to his brain as he nodded at your confession, cheeks pink from both embarrassment and illness. "Holy shit."

"Holy shit." You echoed once again, although this time you ended it with a small breathless giggle, raising your free hand to cup his cheek, stubble pricking your palm and cold skin meeting warm.

"I really want to kiss you right now." He confessed, half closed eyes searching for your gaze as his hand came up to cover yours over his cheek. "But I don't want to get you sick."

You smiled at his pout, shrugging your shoulders as you nodded down towards your fingers. "There's no way I'm not getting sick after that, Clay. It's fine. I want to kiss you too."

He nodded faster than the speed of light as you started to pull him down, pressing your lips to his for a moment that felt like eternity, and oh god, it was better than you imagined. It felt as if fireworks were going off in your head, sending shivers down your spine and lighting every nerve within you on fire, his breath against your lips as he pulled back from them almost burning your skin from how much you wanted to press them back onto his.

"Holy shit."

And by the sounds of it, you hadn't been the only one affected ridiculously by the kiss.

"Can we do that more often?" Dream basically vibrated in his seat at the prospect of being able to repeat that experience, his smile only growing when you nodded your head, a matching one pulling at your lips.

"Yes. Yes please."

[roguelov]

Cat’s Cradle

Summary: You were crafted by him, crafted to serve the Dreaming and dreamers of all kinds. You were granted the ability to alter your appearance, to the feline variety, to hide in dreams. You, however, never imagined falling in love with him. But, when he left to take care of a rogue nightmare, only to never return, your heart broke. So, you ran to the Waking and soon met someone new. But, when Dream returns, how will he react to find you missing?

Word Count: ~5.2k

Reader: Fem

Warnings: Some angst (abandonment and heartbreak), fluff, pining

Requested by the magnificent @chainsawsangel

Part 2

A curious question to ponder: do animals dream? And if so, what do they dream of? Do dogs dream of chasing squirrels? Do cats dream of hunting in a jungle? Do snakes dream of being ginormous and slithering about?

And the answer to all of these: yes, yes they do.

Far before humanity was where it was today, animals were the first to flock to the Dreaming. They were the first dreamers. Although their dreams may be plain, or simpler, compared to humans; they were still dreams. They were still precious, still hopeful.

But, as humanity evolved and grew, the Dreaming started to accommodate for humanity more. The Lord of Dreams and Nightmares had to turn his attention to those with far more complex dreams, to those impacting the Waking world with each breath and decision. In order to do so, he created his dreams and nightmares.

He created you.

You were one of the first dreams, and dare say the oldest. However, you were unique compared to the others. Your purpose was to oversee all dreams, and more specifically the dreams of the vast amount of creatures. When Dream could not lend his attention to the dreams, you were there.

In disguise, of course.

Dream not only created you for this single purpose, he also granted you the ability to alter your form. You could change into any feline creature from an average house cat to a vicious cougar.

And so it was for years, centuries. Your days were spent doing your duties and whatever you pleased. It was simpler in those earlier days, easy to seperate yourself from Dream. Creator and creation. However, as years passed those strict lines, those boundaries drawn, shifted.

Under the shade of a tree, in Fiddler’s Green beautiful picturesque forest, Dream lounged in the foliage’s shade. Books, taken from the library for his various researches, surrounded him. He needed a change of space and air to think.

You, on the other hand, were slinked away in the nearby bushes, quietly stalking him.

“Hello, my dream.” Dream’s eyes flickered up, catching yours.

But, Dream always spotted you, always knew when you were around. You walked out on paws while your silted, seemingly glowing amber, eyes stayed locked on to his dazzling oceanic blue. Reaching the edge of the tree’s shade, you calmly sat down in front of him, with your tail curled around you.

“And what can I do for you, (Y/N)?” Dream asked.

It started with your body, it stretched and elongated. Next was the fur, its cotton like texture retracted, leaving only soft skin. Then there were the fine details, from the tail vanishing with a flick, to your ears once pointed rounded out, to fingers growing as claws became dull nails, to your eyes more natural color for a human. It was intriguing to watch how quickly you changed. In a blink of an eye, you stood tall before Dream on two feet. You bowed your head slightly, “Apologies, my lord, for interrupting.”

Dream brushed off your formalities. “There is no need to apologize. Speak, what is it that you need?”

“Only to give my daily report, sir.”

Ah, yes, how could he forget. “Proceed.”

Reports were a necessity to ensure prosperity in the Dreaming. Any one wrong detail, any confusion, would mean possible devastation for a world crafted on such complexities. Luckily, you recounted all the dreams you saw and nothing out of the ordinary, for dreams that is. Dreams were chaos, but the Dreaming controlled such chaos.

“Thank you,” Dream said with a nod of his head.

“Of course.”

Normally, you would leave. But, this time your feet were rooted in place. Your eyes darted around to his stacks of books, then to the empty forest surrounding him. The quiet, hushed breeze blew past your ears, and it carried no other voices. It was Dream and Dream alone. And in this moment for some reason, your heart broke. A tiny fissure, truly, but a fissure which in time would grow.

He is always alone.

“Is there something else?”

Your attention snapped over. Dream’s eyes, typical pale blue, were nearly black for a fleeting moment, blending into the shadows. A midnight sky that twinkled with endless stars and universes. Cold, lonely.

You were not sure how to word it. You appear lonely, my lord. Do you wish to have company?

His pride was a fickle thing. One word could offend him. You, thankfully, knew how to navigate it fairly easily.

“May I stay?” You asked.

If I can help it, I don’t want you to be alone.

Dream cocked his head, curious by your question. He paused, considering it then spoke. “If you wish.”

With a single nod, you leapt into the air, changing back into a small house cat. You swiftly and easily climbed up the tree and splayed across a branch directly above Dream. Your eyes dropped down, catching Dream peering up at you. He quickly looked away and returned to his studies.

That.

That was when the boundaries shifted and soon you became friends. Eons, you grew closer and closer. But, the line was pushed further in the recent centuries.

To be fair, it was never your intention to fall for Dream. You knew of his previous relationships, you knew of the pain that somehow inevitably followed - such devastating heartbreak.

But, you did.

You fell.

No, not a dramatic fall such as one falling from grace. No, not all at once. It wasn’t as poets described as a burning flame that blazed into an uncontrollable, all-consuming fire.

No.

It was unknowing, it was subtle. It was like walking down stairs, just one step at a time. It wasn’t until you reached the bottom and was face to face with him, and reality, that it finally dawned on you what had happened.

His plain pale eyes were now the morning sky guiding you from the chilly night, bringing you hope and awe. With a simple glance, your heart now skipped relentlessly in your chest, sending you into a dizzying state of infatuation. His messy unruly hair now tempted you to run your fingers through it, to have his head on your chest and whisper poetry of your love and playful secrets into his hair. His lips - the prettiest pink like fresh spring flowers - now beckoned you forth to taste, to hear his velvet voice sing your name.

Your heart was completely given over.

You only hoped he would care for it.

“My dear (Y/N), my sweet dream, there you are.”

You, in feline form, laid sprawled in the sun, tucked - hidden from all except him - in the palace’s garden. It was your place of solitude, your place of peace, your place to untangle your thoughts.

A place Lord Morpheus showed you, and his presence rippled throughout here.

You saw his twinkling eyes in the blue sunny sky, or in the dark starry night. You heard his voice on the wind, whispering through the branches and bushes. You smelled him in the flowers, and morning dew. You felt him in the warmth of the sunlight, constant and never changing. He was always with you. You would ever escape him. Your mind could never untangle him from your thoughts. But, like a fool in love, you locked yourself in this beautiful gilded cage, happily tossing away the key.

You peered up at him from your patch. Your heart soared. His eyes, however, flickered with minor confusion. “Where have you been? I have not seen you for days.”

A twinge of guilt rose up.

Your features shifted and grew. Instantly, you were on two feet again, standing before your lord, your friend, and your infatuation. “Apologies,” you dropped your head, “I didn’t mean to cause you any worry.”

He gently, with his thumb and forefinger, tilted your head back up. A small frown tugged on the corners of his lips. “I only worry for you. Please, tell me, what has troubled you?”

A heat flushed over your chest. Eons spent together. You had always been close with him, but now since this startling revelation nothing had been the same. Steeling your emotions, you snipped the wings of those pesky butterflies fluttering inside your chest. You smiled easily. “Nothing to worry you, my lord.”

Please, I told you to forgo such formalities, he thought.

His frown stayed. He searched your eyes for any tells. Seeing none, he sighed, dropping his hand from you. You desperately fought back from chasing after his delicate, comforting touch. “If you say so,” he muttered. “You just seem distracted lately; and dare I say avoiding me.”

You swallowed down your nerves. “Never, my lord.”

“Are you unwell? Perhaps, displeased?”

“Displeased?”

His frown deepened. “With your duties? Your life?”

“What? No, no, never.”

“Then why do I not know what you are thinking of anymore? I prided myself in always knowing what thoughts were behind your clever eyes. But, now? I feel as if I am looking at a stranger.”

You were a stranger.

You were a different person now. You had to hide your truest self. You always spoke freely with Dream. One of the few who did not fear his wraith; the others being Lucienne, Merv, and Jessamy.

You stepped back, pulling away from him.

“Lucienne, I - I don’t know what to do with myself.”

You snuck into the royal library, pulling Lucienne aside to speak with her. You needed to tell her what you had been feeling lately - confide in her. Hopefully, she can shed some light on this developing situation. She was your oldest friend, you trusted her and hid nothing from her.

Lucienne smiled to herself, shaking her head. She peered over the rim of her glasses and cocked her brow. This certainly was amusing for her - as if she didn’t already didn’t deduce your feelings for the king. “I believe you know exactly what you must do.”

I can’t, you vehemently thought. “But what if -“

“I never thought there would be a day you would fear him.”

You huffed. “Fear him? I do not fear -“

“I am only teasing you,” she said, sensing your displaced hostility.

You grumbled, but with Lucienne you could never stay mad at her. Your lips already twitched upward, showing her your anger was more for show and dramatics.

She gently took your hands. “Tell him. You know it is the right thing to do.”

She knew your feelings of Dream before your own realization. She knew you the best. You were always the closest to him, but she noted all the subtle changes in your demeanor. And so, she only waited for this day to happen, for you to come to her with your own revelations. Of course, she would never admit it to you, but her and Mervyn may or may not have placed bets on you.

You glanced down at your hands in hers. “I … I don’t want to lose him.”

“You won’t.”

You wanted to scoff. Dream’s past lovers did not end happily. Heartbreak and ruin seemed to follow him like a leech sucking on any joy he may have.

“It’s not easy, but to say nothing would be worse.” Lucienne squeezed your hands, giving you a douse of courage to act. “Would you truly be happy saying nothing?”

You paused. Would you? You sighed heavily, “No, I don’t think I would.”

“Then tell him.”

You agreed, almost hesitantly. “I will.”

Now, Lucienne’s words tossed around your head, that simple question which cut directly to your core: would you truly be happy saying nothing?

You looked to Dream, meeting his gaze once again. Just as easy as he could read you, you could read him. Confusion and worry plainly written in his dazzling eyes. Taking a deep breath, you started to unveil the truth, “I am truly sorry for making you worry, it was never my intention.”

“And what was your intention?”

You thought about it for a moment, considering the correct word then said, “Self-preservation.”

Dream’s eyebrows knitted together. “How so?”

You took a tentative step forward back towards him. “In a way, you were right that I am a stranger. I have discovered something about myself recently.”

Dream stayed quiet, letting you speak without interruptions - letting you come to him.

“It was scary, and I never expected it would happen, yet here I am.” You stepped closer. Your heart raced frantically in your chest. “I hope you do not hate me for what I am about to say and allow me to stay here in the Dreaming.”

Dream tilted his head. “I have never found myself hating you for any reason, nor do I think such a thing would happen. And I would never banish you from the Dreaming for it is your home, but you do have me slightly more worried now.”

You reached out. You hooked your index finger around his pinkie, slowly drawing him to you. “Centuries, eons, spent together and I have adored every second. I love my life, I love everyone here, and - and … I’ve always loved you, a platonic love. However, it has changed recently.”

Dream’s eyes fell to your finger hooked around his. Slowly, unsure if was hearing you correctly, his hand turned and his fingers threaded in between yours. You didn’t move, you didn’t run.

You let out a shaky breath, relieved but absolutely frightened.

“If I am wrong, tell me.” Dream said as he met your eyes again. “Although I have said you have become a stranger, that was not quite true. It was I who had also changed. But -“

Your heart constricted.

“But, I feel as if I should warn you.” He grabbed both of your hands, ensuring you listened fully to him. “You know of my past for you were always part of it. You know of my relationships and the inevitability which always seems to follow. I am telling you this to ask you now: is this what you want?”

You gazed into his sky blue eyes. Trepidation evident in his eyes. Tears prickled in the corner of his eyes, tears of fear and potential heartache. He tried desperately to hide it, but nothing could be hidden from you. You reached up, cupping his face and carefully brushed away the tears. “If you will have me, then yes.”

“You will always have an out, the door will always be open for you to leave.” He said it, but he did not wish it to be true. He wanted you here, he wanted you by his side for eternity.

“I’m not afraid.”

“You should be.”

“Possibly.” You brought his face closer to yours. “But, would I be happy if I left now without trying? No, I don’t think I would be.”

You kissed him. His lips were like petals, soft and warm; like a fresh spring flower after a terribly rough winter. You exhaled as your heart swelled up in your chest. However, his lips moved slowly, methodically.

Measured and unsure.

Scared.

But, quickly, his restraint melted. He grabbed your waist, flushing your bodies against his. He was feverous. He tilted his head, and parted his mouth. His tongue slipped inside. Oh, all the years he wished to taste you. And now he has. So sweet, so delectable.

You hummed.

Oh, he loved that noise.

He pulled away, and pressed his forehead against yours. Hearing your breathlessness, his heart fluttered. He did this. It was his doing. And now, only he could conjure it, only he could steal your breath. And in turn, so can you. You could steal his attention, take his breath as your own, draw out desires and sinful sounds.

You were his.

And he yours.

Initially, you thought yourself a fool, locking yourself in the gilded cage of blind love.

No.

Morpheus, finding your key to your gilded cage, unlocked it. He guided you out, meeting you halfway. You would not be trapped, confined, to him, but his equal - his partner. And if you still saw yourself bound to a cage, he would step inside locking said door behind. The two of you locked together, either until the universe collapsed or maybe - and unlikely in either of yours’ eyes - until one of you moved on. But, until then, it would be beautiful. Each of you would lead with your heart, each of you would bare your soul, each of you would love each other wholeheartedly.

So, you thought this was it.

You and Dream. And the Dreaming.

Your combined love was limitless. He was the world: the sky with its assortment of colors, the sturdy ground providing its nurture and care, the bottomless oceans with its secrets, and the rising mountains reaching unknown heavens. While you were the important details: the intricate woven web of animals and balance, the imperfections from nature adding to individuality, the innate curiosity and creativity of people and their arts and inventions, and the unbelievable hidden wonders in an expanding world.

You gave life - purpose - to his world.

However, as you each predicted, it did not last. Trouble stirred off in the distance. Your world would soon shatter. A nightmare, one you knew fondly, escaped to the Waking, and Dream must retrieve him before the damage becomes too much. When Dream told you he was going to the Waking, a horrible feeling sunk to the pit of your stomach. You wanted to grab him and hold him close, forbidding him from leaving. You wanted to beg and tell him to forget about the Corinthian. You wanted to lock him away. But, there was nothing you could do. You couldn’t stop him, even if you fell to your knees pleading with tears in your eyes. Although you loved him and all his imperfections, his senses of responsibility and pride knew no bounds. He had to do this. So, you wordlessly watched as he walked away - walked out of your life.

Days passed.

Slowly, painstakingly slow.

You mostly kept busy with your duties, much like all the dreams and nightmares during this period. You all worked as if nothing has changed: overseeing dreams, ensuring order in the chaos, and documenting anything unusual.

Weeks then crawled by.

The first whisper of doubt started: Dream would not return, Dream had abandoned his duties. Yet, as quickly as those whispers started, they were silenced. Dream will come back. Everyone believed he would, and so did you.

How naive.

Months became years.

Fiddler’s Green vanished. He took his greenery - all those lush fields and extravagant flowers - and left to go to the Waking. And not knowing, he also took all your precious memories of Dream with him. Moments under the shade of a tree side by side, moments of strolling along a worn down path, moments of soft unspoken love ripped away like a weed.

“I wish to see the Waking for myself,” Fiddler told you before he left. “I do not know if Dream has abandoned us or not, all I know is I wish to see other worlds, to hear others’ stories. If he does return, then maybe one day I will too.”

You smiled, despite the heartbreak. “And I wish you the best, Fiddler.”

He returned the sorrow filled smile, and kissed your forehead. “Do find me when he comes back. I will miss your presence amongst my trees.”

The next to leave was Gault. She slipped away, like a shadow slinking back into the darkness. She was one to always keep to herself. She didn’t speak to anyone about her leave; she simply left, taking her nightmares with her.

As years passed - decades - the Dreaming started to crumble piece by piece and most left seeking refuge elsewhere or looking for new purpose. Dreams and nightmares gone. While the poor dreamers could not pass into the Dreaming anymore, the doors shut until its lord returned.

If, he returned.

“Our lord will return,” Lucienne said to you.

You were both in the library. You sat on top of a long barren table - one which used to hold multiple dreamers who would read side by side or possibly write out their own stories - while Lucienne stood on the end scanning through her own notes and hand drawn maps. Books were disappearing and she was trying to make note of it all from what books, in what section, and so forth. Even now parts of the library were beginning to be blocked off. She needed to write everything down, she needed to do her duties for the library - for the sake of the Dreaming.

“I’m not so sure,” you muttered. Your gaze was ahead directed on a stained glass window, one of the many in the library. The beautiful mosaic had a notable crack running through the middle and splintered out. A strong wind could blow through, sending shards everywhere.

Lucienne peered up from her work. This was the first time you had ever spoken your doubts out loud. But, she knew you had lost your faith long ago. A frown had permanently etched into your face since Dream left. Your eyes once bright were now awfully dull.

“I believe it.” You lazily looked over, meeting Lucienne’s determined eyes. She continued, “Lord Morpheus will return. He would not abandon us.”

“I fear you are the only one who believes that.”

“Do you truly think Morpheus has left? Do you believe he has left the Dreaming, all his responsibilities- you? You are the closest to him, surely you would have known something if he were to leave indefinitely?”

You dropped your head. “I have known Morpheus for eons, but that does not mean I understand him completely. He withholds many things from me. If it may cause me any distress he will not say, and although I appreciate the concern and sentiment in the end he only closes himself off. The distress unfortunately always comes from him, from his duties, from holding the collective unconsciousness. His pride does not allow him to burden others -“ you sighed -“ no matter how much I used to tell him otherwise.”

Lucienne frowned. “So, you truly don’t know where he may be?”

She assumed you must know something. But, she was terribly wrong.

“No, I do not.” You leaned back on your hands, staring back at the cracked window. “And in a strange way, I hope he doesn’t return.”

Lucienne blinked, stunned. “What? Why?”

“He deserves to rest, Lucienne. If the Dreaming stayed, and if other realms were not affected, then yes I would wish for him to venture off to other worlds, to run from all of this.” You hopped off the table. “I wish I could take away all his responsibilities, all his worries. He always carried so much.”

Lucienne was unsure how to respond, but a question did strike her. “Do you not wish for him to come back? To not come back to you?”

“Of course, I do.” You spun around, facing her. For the first time, Lucienne finally noted your watery eyes. “Of course, I want him back. I miss him dearly, and my heart breaks constantly. But, if he is happy elsewhere, then why am I to deny that for him?”

“You would compromise your own happiness?”

“I would do so much more for him.”

“And what of you? Who looks after you?” Who looks after your happiness, she thought.

“… myself.”

“(Y/N) -“

“I think I will leave to go to the Waking.”

She closed her mouth. Her concerns and questions were now redirected: you were leaving. “The Waking?”

“Yeah,” you crossed your arms over your chest, “and I think you should come with me.”

“Go with you?”

“Yes.”

“But, the Dreaming?”

“I cannot stay here anymore, Lucienne. Like I said, my heart breaks constantly. I cannot stay in our bed any longer, I cannot escape this vast bitter coldness. I have to leave.”

Lucienne frowned. “I understand.”

You walked towards her and grabbed her hands. “Please, you should come with me.”

Lucienne smiled, a beautifully regrettable smile. “I’m sorry, but I can’t.”

You nodded, trying to hide your pain. You swallowed down the swell of emotions. “I figured.”

Lucienne gently squeezed your hands, reassuring and loving. “Go,” she whispered, as she battled her own emotions.

‘Don’t worry about me’ was the underlying message.

Tears welled up in your eyes. “I will not forget you, Lucienne.”

She laughed, despite tears springing from her own eyes. “I would hope not.”

You smiled as tears slid down your cheeks. You yanked her forward, throwing your arms around her. “Please, I hope you are not angry with me.”

“Never,” she whispered.

“If you ever need me, find me - call for me. I will do whatever you want.”

“I know.”

She didn’t say ‘I will’. She didn’t wish to call upon you, to drag you back here to your misery. She wished for you to prosper, to smile joyfully again.

You needed to live for yourself. No longer were you an ethereal dream aiding the Dreaming, no longer were a loving partner to Morpheus, no longer were you a kind and endearing friend, you were now on your own. You were on a journey of self discovery.

You tightened your arms around her once more, before reluctantly releasing her. Your eyes shone with tears and smiled through the heartache. “I love you, Lucienne, one day we will see each other again for that I am certain.”

“I will await here to see you both return. And I wish you the best, (Y/N).”

Your heart broke. “Goodbye, Lucienne. Please tell those left I wish them the best.”

“I will. Goodbye, (Y/N).”

You left rather quickly, briskly walking away and not daring to look back. You didn’t wish to see Lucienne’s tears, see the now dusty library with cracks in the foundation; you wanted to preserve all the memories, cheerful and happy.

Standing outside the gates of the Dreaming, you stared off across the vast, empty grey beach. You had nothing on you, for there was nothing you could carry. In the distance, a call hummed - a tug of the universe ready to open to other realms. You tentatively glanced over your shoulder. The grandiose gates of the Dreaming were closed, locked behind you. You sighed. Memories of all your life spent in the Dreaming rushed by: memories of your friends, memories of Morpheus. So bittersweet. “May we meet again … hopefully.”

You leapt into the air.

When you landed in the soft sand, you landed on four paws and with a tail that swished back and forth. Without looking back again - knowing you may never leave if you did - you calmly strolled forward, letting the sand swirl around you. It completely clouded your vision. Yet, you kept walking, drifting away from your home to an unknown world. The soft uneven sand under your feet became rigid and sturdy. The dark cloud of sand faded, revealing a bright sunny afternoon filled with countless faces and colorful structures. The once deafening silence, and chill, of the Dreaming replaced by a chorus of chatter and buzz of life. As the last drop of sand vanished, you found yourself in an alleyway in a bustling vibrant city. People passed by, living their lives. While you, an unsuspected dream, was now amongst their population.

Or in their eyes, a simple house cat.

For the first time in years, you were thrilled with the uncertainty and possibilities to come. You had a glimmer of hope fluttering in your empty chest, you had a joyful twinkle slowly returning in your hardened eyes.

It was a fresh start.

But, you were woefully unprepared for what the fates would send your way.

It had been years since your arrival to the Waking. You traveled, walking among the humans as one. You tasted exciting new dishes, learned different languages, visited amazing places, and met interesting people. However, you met people, you did not let them in. No friends, no relationships of any kind. Your heart could not bear it. So, you only watched humans and life from a safe distance, skirting its edges to save your heart from any trouble.

He, on the other hand, disregarded any and all barriers you put up.

“Well, hello, look at you.”

You - in feline form this late morning - perked up from your spot, sunbathing in front of a cafe. The owner, a sweet elderly lady, was always pleased to see you and left treats out occasionally. However, it wasn’t the owner who greeted you, it was a man. A man wore a tweed jacket, black turtleneck, and glasses perched on his nose. He had a kind, gentle face - one found in stories of princes and heroism. His eyes held worldly knowledge and strangely bountiful hope.

The man crouched down in front of you, extending his hand out as a greeting. You wanted to turn your nose away, but something told you not to. Curiosity? Possibly. To ease your burning new curiosity, you accepted his hand and sniffed it: dried ink, old papers, coffee, old cologne, mixed with potential and nostalgia.

He certainly was a strange one.

The man smiled excitedly, elated to see you have accepted him. He slowly scratched the top of your head and soon behind your ears. You unconsciously pushed your head into his hands. So kind, so comforting. A part of you ached deeply over his simple touch.

“Do you have a family? A home, little one?” He asked out loud.

“No, she doesn’t.” The man perked up, looking at the cafe owner. She smiled at the man and you. “She just appeared one day. She comes and goes as she pleases, but she always comes back.”

The man turned his gaze back onto you. A frown tugged on his lips. “So, no home?”

“No home.” The owner confirmed.

The man continued to scratch at your ears. An idea slowly pieced together in his head. “Do … do you think I could take her?”

You flinched, surprised by his offer.

“Well, that’s up to her now, isn't it?” The owner chucked. “You can try, but if she runs off then do not run back here to me to complain.”

The man wasn’t sure why he wished to take this random cat. Possibly to fill a void, fill a space in his vacant apartment. There was a draw he couldn’t quite place or understand. He glanced back down at you, while you stared up with wide eyes. “Would you like that? A home?” He asked with that lovely smile.

Home.

Oh, how you ached for the Dreaming, for Dream. Your wondrous Morpheus.

You had no where, and being free meant no home. And deep down, you craved it. You craved a home, but your only home you ever had was one you could go back to. At least, not now or maybe ever. You needed a new home. And maybe this insane encounter with this stranger could be that. Not permanently, but for just a few years. A few sweet years. You purred. The man smiled bright and wide, taking it as a ‘yes’. With a helping hand - and a warmth you haven’t felt in ages - he delicately scooped you up.

“Let’s get you home,” he whispered.

[kpopgirlbtssvt]

WAIT!!

Morpheus peeps, imagine this!!!! 🙇‍♀️🙇‍♀️

A Platonic!Dad!Morpheus x 2 year old daughter fic!!

Imagine like in Monsters inc, a 2 year old little girl somehow makes it into the Dreaming, like Boo made it into the monster world. Remember how Boo wasn’t scared of Sulley and ended up following him back? Imagine the little girl not being scared of the nightmare that is there when she’s asleep, just giggling and ends up following the nightmare back to the Dreaming, and then suddenly there is a little 2 year old human girl that is running amuck in the Dreaming? The Nightmare is panicking and can’t find her, the rest of the Nightmares and Dreams are panicking because there is a tiny human child lost in the Dreaming, and because Morpheus will not be happy.😅 Anyways, Morpheus finds her first, him having gone to search for the human presence he felt appear, and hearing giggling, he finds her happily surrounded by the cats of the Dreaming. He goes to her in cat form at first, as to not startle her, but then turns into his human body form, and the little girl excitedly starts to refer to him as “Kitty”. And he gently picks her up to bring her inside to discuss with Lucienne what they should do (and he has a conversation with the Nightmare that accidentally brought her there😅). Anyways, they find out she’s all alone, doesn’t have parents, and feels safest in her dreams, even nightmares, so Morpheus adopts the little girl as his own daughter, who has become very attached to him🥹🥹

@roguelov @gh0stsp1d3r @honeybeezgobzzzzz @missdreamofendless @dragon-kazansky @thoughtsfromlayla

[miladysproblems]

MASTERPOST

Do not steal, repost, re-write Or translate my work without my given consent. I do not appreciate giving my work to any Ai enabled platforms or chat bots. Kindly respect a person's work. ♡I currently write♡ m stands for mature

Sandman(Netflix series) •Morpheus x human lover - fluff •Affliction(series) - angst, sad ending Part 1: Morpheus plans a date with you and doesn't turn up Part 2: You run and find Morpheus with calliope Part 3: Mathew comforts you but You leave morpheus

Bahubali stuff Maheshmati happy ending<33 - fluff Bhallaldeva x reader - power couple - fluff The king and queen - Bahubali x devsena - fluff

Loki Laufeyson Loki x reader - angst, fluff

Bridgerton Benedict bridgerton - pretty, fluff

Avatar 2 (mainly Neteyam) I'm not in my neteyam phase anymore so dont expect any fics for a long time. •Missed you -hurt/comfort, lil angst, fluff •Beautiful - tooth rotting fluff Part 1: Neteyam is alive and reconciles with his family but what about you? Part 2 (coming soon)

◆◇◆◇◆◇◆◇◆◇◆◇◆◇◆◇◆◇◆◇◆◇◆◆◇◆◇◆◇

☽I want to write☾ (hopefully I will soon enough)

Dramione

Yea.. I procrastinate a lot ╥﹏╥ ●○●○●○●○●○●○●○●○●○●○●○●○●○●○●○●○●○ Request rules: I appreciate all requests apart from the ones that make me uncomfortable like Rape, too much dark romance(includes violence or abuse) Apart from that ask awayy.. ●○●○●○●○●○●○●○●○●○●○●○●○●○●○●○●○

[fauxraven]

The Time Paradigm [VI]

pairing: Dream of the Endless x fem!reader

summary: the death of a Dream, the anguish of another

warnings: gore, Dream’s endless (but hot af) anger, character death

word count: 2.9k+

Enter the Dream, weary traveller

Chapter VI: Mutually assured salvation

GaiaPrime-57, Londinium, Half the Lifetime of the Universe,

A window snaps shut.

A droplet drops.

A zipper zips shut.

Zips open.

Chipping nail polish cracks further with every slide of the zip. Zip up; zip down. Zip up; zip down.

The suitcase slams on the floorboards. A frustrated groan leaves the chipping nail polish.

‘’Yes. Yes, I understand that too, Mr. Harris.’’ Up and down and up and down again until it jams. The phone gives a groan under cheap nail polish and exhausted fingers. ‘’Pedro, come—hop on my suitcase.’’

The curly head of a child pops around a corner; small, for his age, smallest of his class, in every aspect. He holds a soft toy that’s half bunny half elephant and about 5% extinct species. He hops on the suitcase silently.

‘’No, obviously, I don’t expect you to hop on my suitcase, Mr. Harris.’’ The zipper draws back, jams again. ‘’Pedro? Remember the Chuck E. Cheese ball pit?’’

The child throws himself onto the suitcase. The zipper is still stuck.

‘’Yes, I know. But the lease said—just one really. Yes, the other intends to stay. I don’t know, a few months. Yes, just me. She’ll stay. Yes—yes! Perfect, thank you, so much!’’ The phone drops on a red faux suede beanbag. ‘’Kid, this isn’t working.’’

‘’It was zipping a bit funny when Aunty Anna tried it too.’’

‘’Anna was within a file-mile radius of my suitcase?’’

The half-elephant half-unicorn dips a head of a cotton into a nod. She pulls him up and throws the suitcase open.

‘’You have got to be kidding me!’’

A pink garment falls to the floor. Followed by a white veil and a cable knit stitch the colour of ebony. Footfalls draw closer with every piece she plucks from the intestines of the suitcase.

‘’Pizza’s ordered. What? You said healthy; veg—what the bloody hell are you doing?’’

‘’You tell me. What part of ‘going there for work’ do you not understand?’’

‘’I understood perfectly! Blimey, I even packed you nice professional clothes.’’

‘’Lingerie? That’s what you call professional?’’

‘’Pleasure and business. Precisely in that order,’’ a lacy thong drops, adding to the growing pile forming on the floor. The child has gone away, thankfully. ‘’What if you meet a hot and loaded British bugger? What then? You’ll be glad I packed the essentials, that’s what.’’

‘’It’s a job in a quiet countryside house; the closest village is eight miles. The only guy I’ll see is pushing ninety and I’ll spend my days wheeling him around—passionately.’’

‘’Just loaded then?’’

‘’Business. I’m going there for business. I’m not like you, Jo. Hell, how many did you—okay, who needs this many thongs?’’

‘’That one’s a stray, actually.’’

On cue, the top layer of the unholy pile shifts into a ginger Tabby cat.

‘’Tell me you did not keep that thing.’’ Johanna snags in a beanbag, hissing at the cat when it tries snuggling up against her leg. She plucks a magazine from the coffee table and starts thumbing through gibberish. She isn’t really paying attention to the words; she isn’t paying attention to anything.

‘’I let you keep the kid!’’ The woman fires back, sitting on her haunches.

‘’Kids aren’t strays, love. Besides, this one’s just using ya for food and free snuggles, hope you know that.’’

‘’Since you’re missing the point, I’ll just cut to the chase—where did you find a whole kid? Where are his parents?’’

Johanna spares her a coy look over the magazine. ‘’Don’t you mean when are his parents?’’

‘’No, I really just mean where are his parents, the people who are supposed to care for him and report him missing should you decide to keep him any longer than you already have.’’

Johanna opens her mouth, tongue fit with a quick retort, but a zipper zips shut and a bell tolls; and life goes on. Without her. Always without her. She ought to move on too.

A sharp snap! rescues her from grim thoughts. A luggage handle is drawn and a decision is made.

‘’Looks like I’m all set. Walk me to the door?’’

‘’Promise to visit for Bommy Night?’’

‘’Sure. Why not Christmas or Easter or any other normal holidays?’’

‘’I want you on Bommy Night.’’

A suitcase is wheeled over the threshold of a small London flat. A dream leaves through the door.

‘’Hun, it happened four hundred years ago, think you can let it go, eventually?’’

‘’Bommy Night?’’

‘’Bommy Night.’’ She sighs. ‘’And do clean up while I’m gone. This place is a mess.’’

A door shuts behind an idyllic picture, a semblance of normalcy, a modicum of love.

In all her lives, Johanna Constantine has never particularly enjoyed loneliness. But loneliness far outweighs death, grief, sorrow, work. So she lets it go. She lets love overflow. She lets her only friend forge her own path through the world. A world cleansed of any demons, ghouls or whatnots that come bump into the night.

Still, she hangs onto the knob. Still, she pauses before the door. Still, she glances at the quiet flat.

A piece of paper and a mess of clothes strewn about a dust-covered couch.

All that’s left of her.

There’s a child in there somewhere, but she doesn’t bother finding him. She knows it won’t last. She knows nothing ever lasts.

An orange cat pushes its head against her calf, purring lightly through her bones.

She might take that gig at Saint-Anne’s. She might blow up the Houses of Parliament. She might phone Rachel.

Endless possibilities.

⌛︎ ⌛︎ ⌛︎

GaiaPrime-57, Edge of the Worlds, Mytikas Peak, Two Millennia Before the End,

He isn’t sure she is breathing.

Granted, his kind do not need to breathe, but nearly all living things do.

In the beginning, breathing was surviving.

Breathing was new, invented by some higher power, meant to be the latest trend in a series of many; holy gifts bestowed upon humanity before it even became humanity.

But in humanity breathing has found meaning.

One’s breathing tells a tale of life—of life and of love and of sorrow and of pain.

In times forgotten but not forgiven, he’d relish in the steady breath of sleepers.

He’d watch the ephemeral rise and fall of a passing chest with great fascination, overcome with a strange mixture of relief and indifference when the fleeting moment inevitably ended.

He’d listen to the soft thrumming of a laboured breath fanning across his own lips, bodies tangled, hearts mingled, minds miles apart. He’d pour his heart into everything that he was and everything that he wanted and he’d breathe them all into his arms… and they would always end up drowning. He’d choke the breath right out of them.

His sorrow was great; but his love was suffocating.

To add insult to injury, evolution has made breathing mandatory; essential.

But she has defied every rule, every law, every principle and sacred promise from day one.

So he is almost certain she is not breathing at all.

And he needs her to breathe.

He isn’t sure why—perhaps because she’s got a kind smile and she’s happy and she’s wounded and she’s saved his life.

A debt he can never repay, to his dismay.

He cannot stand between a flying sword and her lovely face. He cannot mend her wounds with a flick of his wrist. He cannot call out her name so sweetly and stir something buried within the depths of a blazing nova.

But he can save her life.

The hopeful thought digs, and soft golden grains of sand guide him to Chiron’s bedchambers.

He finds the Centaur reading. He calls to him, nearly falls to his knees.

Morpheus, Dream of the Endless, Oneiros, the Shaper of Form and everything he has ever been and ever will be—is utterly devastated.

Strangely enough, nothing gives the King away.

Nothing on the hard face, the wild hair nor deep eyes, nothing in the dark billowing robes and the shining ruby; it’s a feeling in the air, a rapture through time itself that tells Chiron something dreadful has happened.

That, and the dying girl in his arms.

For his usual aloofness, Oneiros proves to be very cooperative.

He lowers her to the cushioned table, per Chiron’s orders and stands aside to let him work.

He watches, powerless, as the doctor tears through fabric and blood-marred skin and frowns.

‘’What is it?’’ His voice is cutting, demanding, that of a sovereign hanging onto his crown with one hand. In the other, lie his wants and desires. Duty warring against something barely blossoming. Something deadly. Something very nearly dead.

‘’The stitches hold still.’’

‘’Is that not a good thing?’’

‘‘Terrible. Very terrible, Milord.’’

Gilded scissors cut deeper, digging into raw flesh and crusted meat alike, dragging unintelligible pained murmurs from the victim’s throat.

‘’She’s coming to, my lord.’’

‘’Not quite. Faster.’’

Scissors chop away, blood bursts everywhere, screams rip free, golden liquid bearing the smell of spoilt milk leaks through veins.

‘’By Zeus—’’ The Centaur curses; the Dream Lord hears it—neither moves an inch.

‘’What is that?’’ Oneiros rasps, anger lacing his even tone as he stares deeper into the leaking wound.

‘’Adiona—‘’ Chiron stammers, wide eyes burning a hole into a gaping canyon. ‘’Go, find Adiona, and any servants and willing gods.’’

Oneiros does not move. His star-filled gaze has darkened; the stars are slowly dying as they gawk at the trickling drops of blood and the large puddle of liquid gold pouring from the wound.

‘’Oneiros, go!’’ Chiron calls to him, they share a glance over the woman and then his eyes sweep over her fevered form again. A pale hand he hadn’t noticed falls from a limp grasp. He is gone in a swirl of sand.

What happens in the split second of his absence is a secret kept between the doctor and the universe.

But for clarity’s sake, the scene is as follows; this tale is not for the faint of heart.

Blood pours.

As a doctor, surgeon, centaur, son of a ruthless beast, he has seen blood. Some might say he is used to the sight of it. Blood and pus and bodily fluids, all fascinating in their diversity. After its inevitable loss, the human body can produce nearly one liter per day. That's two gallons full of pungent blood. He fears she might fill up five pitchers of wine with her blood alone.

But the blood doesn't bother him. It is terrifying.

Blood pours, pours.

Vicious droplets gushing from a gaping wound—a Sunday to him.

He'd operated during the Dhorian Invasion and all that followed humanity's first brush with extraterrestrial forces. He'd served as a soldier for a time, a nurse, a brother, a friend, a gravestone. He thought he'd seen all the world had to give and take.

He hadn't.

He probably still hasn't.

Blood pours pours pours.

Red splotches dot his skin—her skin, the difference is hard to tell anymore.

He reacts mechanically, his body switching to auto-pilot. His arm lifts, a hand reaches and nibble fingers dig through shining flesh and golden remnants of bone. He knows what this is, this gilded ambrosia spreading through her veins. He knows what it is and he knows what it does, so he carries on, hands digging through her entrails as her screams overpower the wet squelching of his crass ministrations.

He digs and he digs until the voice that comes from her throat is nothing but a distant echo carried by a Roman breeze, a flutter of a butterfly's wings.

By the time the doors to his antechamber burst open, he's elbow deep into the angry flesh of her.

A flurry of gods and goddesses and servants stand arrayed about him, gawking eyes narrowing at the sight of the carnage.

''Chiron,'' a voice calls to him, and then two, and then three and a thousand and one. They pierce through the silent spell in the room and noise comes back to him at once, a moist, most disturbing noise.

He carries on; acutely aware that somewhere along his ministrations, she had stopped screaming.

''Chiron, there's too much blood.''

''Is this all from the... inside?''

‘’I could not find Adiona.’’

‘’No matter. Hold her hand.’’

Wordlessly, he gives commands. A world of gods and servants obey, gathering tools and knowledge, changing bandages and spoiling cloth after cloth with dried pungent blood. It just never stops, the flow keeps pouring, rushing over all of Mount Olympus. The rivers of blood spread like gossip on Haloa, splitting into narrow paths, designing warped veins on the pristine floors. The irony.

The servants still the traveller. It is useless. The violent writhing has subsided, only slight tremors remain, faint whimpers and an assembly of gods.

Hephaestus beats her chest repeatedly with brawny arms.

A Cherub's small rounded fingers are pressed against her pulse. With every passing second, they press harder still.

Calliope, ninth daughter of the Hecatae, is sponging up blood and gilded pus from a corpse.

A painting that will never make it to a museum.

Oneiros knows she is no longer breathing. Her hand lays slack in his palm.

Chiron perseveres. Delicate fingers pry him off the body carefully.

The stranger-traveller-lover-of-dreams is... dead?

''It's alright, Chiron. You did your best.''

''You were very admirable. As was she; she shall be remembered as such.''

''Really nothing you could do.''

''Try again.''

A death knell drops. A pipe organ is playing somewhere deep within the bowels of the palace. The eerie melody cannot reach them. Nothing can save for sorrow and grief and the Dreamlord's quiet anger.

''My Lord?''

''Try. Again.''

Chiron holds his haunted gaze. The ninth daughter of the Hecatae raises a graceful hand to the side of his face. ''Oneiros—''

''Save her.'' he repeats, rasping voice never changing in tone. ''You owe her that much.''

''Do I?'' The doctor's eyes sweep over her form again. Just a moment ago she'd been laughing, mocking his customs and reminiscing gibberish. Just a moment ago, she'd been carried in by the prince of stories for whom she obviously harbored a strong inclination. ''Do you?''

Just a moment ago, she'd been more than a cold lump of meat on a decorative table.

''I know when to admit defeat, Dreamlord. Please, forgive me.''

''No.''

''Oneiros, he did all he could.''

Cold, starless eyes barely brush against some ninth daughter. Under his stare, she feels smaller than a grain of sand.

''No,'' Chiron says before the Dream Lord can retort. ''No, I did not.''

''Chiron—‘’

His shoulders deflate, turning away from Calliope's comforting touch. ''She came to see me this morning. After the feast.''

''Well, what did she want?'' a rough, gravelly voice asks. The Cherub hops on a corner of the table, bare legs brushing over the tip of her dead sandaled feet. She is a corpse now, everything about her is dead, expect, perhaps, her heart. It shall live endlessly.

''She asked me to check the wound. I had to remove the bandage and cut her up, I'm afraid.''

The temperature drops, the air turns crisp, burning the doctor's lungs when he draws a deep breath and looks into Morpheus' eyes.

''Tell me, is this your doing?''

''I wish,'' he surrenders, summoning all the strength left in him. His hands are covered in blood, his arms reek of death and his scalp is as damp as that of the victim. The blood has gilded vein-like streaks stretching across his arms. ''This—this is something else. Something impossible.''

He orders the blood-covered servants to leave. As they fill out wordlessly, he watches, scrutinizing them one by one. The doors close on blood and fabric and a forbidden glance.

To the remaining world, he whispers one word.

''Δηλητήριο.''

''Poison?'' Calliope echoes, frowning. ''It cannot be. Zeus had all the hemlock shrubs removed after the Phaedra incident.''

''Only this isn't hemlock, Calliope. This is something else. Something new.''

''Could it be lethal to us?''

''Of course not, dimwit! Why would you even think that?''

''Look what it's done to her, Anteros! A powerful beauty, was she? I mean no disrespect my lord.''

Hephaestus considers himself a man of bravery and honor.

He isn't anywhere near as obnoxious as Plutus, or inconsiderate as Aergia, and twice the man Anteros pretends to be. But he must admit that the tendrils of pure darkness sprouting from the Master of Dreams’ shadow make him a tee tiny bit frightened.

They expand, licking across the polished floors, continuing their creeping journey toward the foot of the table, snuffing out all light and life from the closest particles of this plane. The shadows grow, shape, de-shape and reshape in a senseless and endless twirl.

Calliope has always been braver than him.

She turns and in one graceful twirl places herself between the tendrils of darkness and her half-brother. Between the god and the Endless. She stares him down. He stares right back.

The tendrils tremble around the edges.

Chiron pinches the bridge of his nose wearily. A cherub sucks a thumb into his mouth, watching the game with bright amused eyes.

A shadow stills, the air turns sour.

A gasp is breathed, a heart is released.

A stranger-traveller springs from a table, cheered on by a collective shriek. A toddler tumbles from her table. A palm is pressed to her cheek, lovely brown eyes coming into view. Shadows retreat into the darkest parts of an ancient soul.

She breathes. She lives. She cries.

''Please, please, don't send me off on a burning boat.''

-

A/N: yes I am alive, no, I’m not sorry (a tiny bit still).

Also… finally introducing the premise, how do we feel about that ;)

Gotta sort the rest of my drafts before I update again, but I’m currently working on a Sandman x DBD crossover so updates on this series might take a while. And since the algorithm seems to be against me, I'd recommend a follow to be sure not to miss them!

[lilpunkrock]

where you go (i will go) — part xvi

Summary: With assistance from Destiny, your war with Desire finally comes to an end.

Words: 10.0k+

AN: It's all come down to this. I hope you all enjoy. x

masterlist

. . .

“All I really know is that you’re where I wanna go,

The part of me that’s you will never die;

So when I’m all choked up, but I can’t find the words,

Every time we say goodbye baby it hurts;

When the sun goes down, and the band won’t play,

I’ll always remember us this way.” 

Always Remember Us This Way, Noelle Johnson

. . . 

part xvi

The seven Endless. Destiny. Death. Dream. Destruction. Despair. Desire. Delirium. 

Of the seven anthropometric beings, Destiny was the most mysterious to you. Funny, considering your paths had been irrevocably intertwined for millenia. He was responsible for your creation, the ultimate source of your daily duties. And yet, you’d never spoken with him, let alone seen him, in all of your divine existence. 

You suppose it’s only fitting, then, that you should finally meet. 

When you open your eyes, the Garden of Forking Ways greets you. You’ve heard myths of its serene beauty, but nothing could have prepared you to witness its splendor in person. The expansive garden you find yourself in is low and flat compared to the green hills and snow-dipped mountains that climb upward and outward far in the distance. A pale mist settles in the nooks and crannies of the elevated landscape, partially enshrouding the remnants of monuments, citadels, and temples that dapple the mountainsides. The sky is a peaceful robin’s egg blue. 

And then, there are the walkways. Paths made of yellow sandstone curl and twist and cut across the garden, branching off into walkways that lead in multiple directions. If you squint hard enough, you can see them curl up and over the hillsides, only to disappear into the mist settling over the mountains. 

“It is said that decisions made in Destiny’s garden determine future paths, ward,” the Crone had advised as she rested a wrinkled hand upon your forehead, preparing to send you here. “Choose wisely.” 

You spin in a slow circle, observing all of the possible forks and branches you can take. No path looks particularly different than another. 

And so, you just start walking. 

The air is cool and crisp as you wind down the paths that curl over the grass. It’s at the edge of the garden that you reach your first fork in the path. One sandstone walkway snakes toward a set of crumbling ruins to your right, while the other curls around a towering stone temple to your left. 

How am I supposed to decide? you wonder, glancing back and forth between the two options before you. Did your choices here really matter as much as the Fates had said? Or was it all just tall tales and mythology?

With a deep breath, you close your eyes in contemplation. There’s a peace that comes from removing the sight of the options in front of you. It allows you to think clearly, to look inward rather than outward. 

Standing at the fork in the path, you draw in deep lungfuls of the crisp air. The only sound that meets your ears is the soft whisper of your breathing. 

There. A tiny shift, almost imperceptible, twinges within your chest. It beckons you to the left, toward the towering stone temple. 

When you open your eyes, you take the path to the left with confidence. 

As you walk along the outside of the temple, you alternate between glancing down the sloping hills to your right and into the open corridors of the temple to your left. Each time, you wonder if you might spot Destiny. But each time you find yourself alone, a solitary figure wandering amongst the Endless’s Garden of Forking Ways. 

It’s not the end of the world, you suppose. It gives you time to think of what’s to come. Time to ponder how you’re going to plead your case to the Endless. 

The day you’d died and been reborn, the Fates had declared that your fate was written in the book of Destiny of the Endless. Millenia spent walking as an immortal had taught you its true name: The Book of Souls. It was the book that your daily assignments were based on. A tome bound in leather made from a beast that had never been born. The book within which all things existed, the book that contained the fate of all things past, present, and future. 

The fates of all eros, philia, philautia, erotoropia, storge, pragma, and agape bonds were in that book. The fates of all of Desire’s bonds were in that book.

The universe required balance between love and desire. Shifts and changes tipped the scales in either direction at any given moment. Balancing these scales was an ongoing challenge, and would be until the end of time. But only as long as you were working blind, like you were now. You were working with limited information, fulfilling the steps in years-long prophecies on a day-to-day basis. Meanwhile, Desire did as they pleased, placing attachments without any regard for the scales at large. 

And that was the heart at the center of your theory. What if changing the process by which you worked could turn the tide? What if you could see the future of love and desire on the grandest scale, all at once? You could find the balance between the two. You could determine the events that needed to occur to ensure this balance was fulfilled. You could foster and protect and insure your attachments in advance, so that nothing could prevail against them. 

Maybe you could even protect your own. 

Do you really think you can succeed? the accursed voice of doubt whispers in the back of your mind. Your power had grown exponentially over the past several months. Each bond you fostered felt more concrete than ever before. You were capable of breaking Desire’s bonds now, too, though it came at a cost.  

You weren’t sure what the cost of a feat like this would be, or if you could even pull it off. But you had to believe that you could. To protect the love bonds of humanity for the remainder of time. To finally escape from Desire’s grasp, to make you an equal in their eyes. To protect Dream. 

When you round the corner of the stone temple, you come to a halt. 

You’ve walked onto another flat, expansive garden off the side of the temple. Lining the side of this garden, however, is a row of towering statues carved from pale stone. All but one stand facing the temple. As enormous as they are, their features are easily recognizable to you from afar: Destiny, Death, Dream, Destruction, Despair, Desire, and Delirium. 

All paths lead back to him. 

Your feet carry you toward the effigies in a trance. You’d once heard that, if you stood watch in Destiny’s garden long enough, you’d notice the statues’ almost imperceptible movements. They weren’t just sculptures, after all. They were manifestations, meant to mirror the condition of their living counterparts. 

When you come to a stop directly in front of Dream’s sculpture, you find his head downturned, his carved stone eyes gazing directly at you.

“Oh, Dream.” 

Your palm comes to rest against the cool stone of the effigy’s shoe gently, as if to comfort him. If you were to make things right–if you were to free humanity, Dream, and yourself from Desire’s meddling–this needed to work. You needed Destiny’s assistance. 

Dream had once told you that his elder brother made no mistakes. You wonder if Destiny of the Endless will deem your plan as just or foolish. You wonder if he expects you here now.

“Greetings, Agape, Goddess of Love.” 

You spin so haphazardly that your soul is nearly flung from your body. “Son of a—so you all like to do that, do you?”

Destiny of the Endless towers before you, his head slightly bowed, the upper half of his features cloaked in shadow. “I have been awaiting your arrival,” he says, his voice low and measured. 

Well, that answers that question. 

Standing before the being who foretold your creation, one of the eldest beings in the universe, you observe his features for the first time. Destiny easily towers over you by at least a foot. His slim form is cloaked in beige robes, his bare feet resting lightly atop the path you both stand upon. The hood of his cloak is drawn low over his face, concealing his eyes from you. His shoulders, though broad, are slightly hunched from eons spent crouched over the Book of Souls. The hefty tome itself is tucked under his arm. The chain that permanently links it to his wrist glints in the sunlight. 

To stand in his presence is both awe-inspiring and disconcerting. He was one of the most powerful and ancient beings in existence, after all. Your entire life–past, present, and future–was contained in the book held under his arm, the subject of his musing on any given day. If you thought Dream’s presence was otherworldly, then Destiny’s aura is transcendent, almost alien.

In spite of the obvious dominion he holds over you, Destiny does not appear haughty. Though no smile graces his wrinkled face, his expression–what you can see of it, anyway–appears calm, reposed. Something in the back of your mind tells you he is appeased by your arrival, the fulfilling of a prophecy he’s likely known about since his first breath. 

With a deep, calming breath, you offer him a small smile. A gesture of good will. “Well, if you’ve been expecting me, then I suppose you also know why I’m here.” 

Destiny’s thumb trails along the spine of the Book of Souls, back and forth. “Your arrival and intentions are within the scheme of things, all of which are known to me,” he says. He speaks with a perfect and polite intonation, almost as if reading from a script. You wonder how many times he’s read of this encounter, if he’s ever rehearsed these lines. “Regardless, I invite you to state your intentions for visiting me, as has been foretold.” 

There is a twitch at the corner of your mouth, the beginnings of a smile. There’s something about Destiny that stands out to you. This regality, this formality, this neutrality–it reminds you of Dream, particularly when you first met him. You can’t help but smile in full at the realization. 

“I’d like to look in your book, if it is the universe’s will,” you say, sounding far more confident than you expected to. 

There is a long pause as Destiny considers you. Only the soft whisper of the breeze and the friction of his thumb against the leather book spine intrude upon the silence. “And what is it you wish to find?” he asks, even though he already knows. 

It feels like the two of you are fulfilling roles in a play. You off-handedly wonder if it’s a comedy or tragedy. “I’m sure you’re aware that, since my creation, I’ve been at odds with your younger sibling, Desire. I’ve often struggled to maintain balance between the scales we share. Admittedly, I used to think that love should prevail over desire in all circumstances. But now, I see things differently. My abilities have grown in recent months. I hope to use my new power to establish balance between love and desire. Not just now, but forever.” You work your jaw, mulling over how to word your request. “Right now, I fulfill attachments on a day-to-day basis. I can see the needs of the present, but not the futures that my people are moving toward. If I can learn the fates of humanity’s attachments from your Book of Souls, I believe I can preset and guard the final outcomes of my attachments. In particular, eros, philia, and agape.”

Destiny’s head tilts ever so slightly. “I see the assurance of your function in this plan. But what of my sibling’s?”

“Eros, philia, and agape have always been close to my heart. Romantic love, soul ties, and selfless love–they're three of the most powerful forms of love in existence. Their fulfillment must be assured. Desire will be free to influence mortals in their philautia, erotoropia, pragma, and storge attachments. It will be a trade. A balance.” A heavy pause. You nibble at the inside of your cheek anxiously. “I hope.” 

“You fulfill your role well,” Destiny muses. He inclines his chin slightly, as if to get a better look at you. As his hood lifts, you catch a glimpse of his eyes for the first time. Clouded with a milky white film, they appraise you as if they are perfectly clear. “I must confess, it was unexpected to see the Book of Souls prophesy the transformation of a human into a deity. I did not doubt its words, but it was surprising, nonetheless.” 

Destiny’s words hang in the air, settling over you quietly. Under the subject of his sightless gaze, you suddenly do not feel like a deity, or a goddess, or a diplomat pleading the case of her function. You feel like yourself, like someone with endless questions, finally coming face-to-face with the one who holds all the answers. A mortal standing in the presence of omnipotence. 

“Why let it all play out this way? Pitting a goddess against an Endless?” You gesture to the statue of Desire that stands towers above you several paces away. Their likeness carved in stone is almost as unsettling as it is in life. “The power imbalance is too great. Even now, this plan of mine is just a theory. I don’t know for certain that it’s going to work.” You pause, working your jaw, mulling over how much to say, how big of a risk to take. “It’s unfair,” you finally dare to accuse. 

For a moment, Destiny is still as the stone effigy of him that oversees the garden. When he does finally move, it is to draw the Book of Souls out from under his arm. His palm sweeps over the bronze leather cover with reverence. “I do not dictate the Book of Souls; it dictates me. I do not choose what is to happen; I am the Keeper that ensures all happens as it should.” Destiny’s eyes drift from the tome in his hands to you. In spite of his blindness, there’s something about his gaze that makes you feel as if he sees straight through to your soul. When he speaks again, his tone is low, matter-of-fact, absolute. “All has unfolded as it was meant to, and all is as it should be. There is a reason for all things, but not all are meant to know the reason.”

Your mouth opens on instinct as a protest leaps to your tongue. However, you catch yourself, pressing your lips together quickly. You were speaking with Destiny of the Endless, keeper of the past, present, and future of the universe. You were already asking for far too big of a favor, for far more than you had ever heard of Destiny bestowing upon another being. Best not to press your luck with protests. 

“There is one piece of information you withhold from me,” Destiny says. “There is one being for whom you wish to protect all attachments. Is there not?” 

Your heart flutters in your chest. He’s found you out, your mind chides anxiously, frazzled with nerves. But, then again, could you really be all that surprised? He was Destiny of the Endless. Knowing everything was his function. 

It’s pointless to lie. And so, you don’t. “Yes,” you breathe past the vice that grips your throat. “Love is about being selfless. I’ve tried to be selfless all my life. Just once…I want to do something selfish. I need to protect him.”

A quiet hum rumbles in Destiny’s chest. You’re not sure if it’s one of amusement, consideration, or displeasure. When he speaks again, there is no anger in his voice. You hope it is one of the former options. “Your desire to protect him regardless of the cost is a mortal quality. The preservation of your mortal qualities into your divine existence was long foretold. They have made you a more effective deity to your people.” A brief pause. A sweep of his hand over the Book of Souls. “They were essential to your connection with him, as well.” 

Destiny inclines his head to look above you, past you. When you follow his milky white gaze, you find yourself staring at the statue of Dream. It still looks at you.

Understanding settles into your heart, soft, soothing, and supple. You turn from Destiny then, resting your palm against the smooth stone cloak clothing Dream’s effigy. Where was he now, at this very moment? Was he thinking of you, as you were thinking of him? Did he miss you like you missed him, with a physical force both sweet and painful? Could he feel it through the bond you shared?

“Was I always meant to love him?” you ask, your voice scarcely more than a whisper. Under the gaze of Dream’s sculpture, you feel soothed, at peace. You suspect you could remain here forever, never looking away. “From the moment I was born mortal, was it always meant to be this way?”

“You will soon learn.”

Hope sparks in your heart at Destiny’s words, bright and jarring. Still, you trail your fingers down the cloak of Dream’s statue slowly, fondly, before you turn to him. “You’re going to let me read your book, then,” you say, a hint of a question in your statement. 

Destiny’s clouded gaze holds yours as he extends the Book of Souls to you. The links in the chain binding him to the tome ring as he does so. “All is as it should be,” he says simply. 

Your eyes don’t stray from his as you take the volume from him with gentle hands. In spite of its size, it’s not as heavy as you would have expected, especially for carrying the entire record of the known and unknown universe. Though the book now rests in your hands, Destiny’s chain extends between you, still binding him to it. A reminder that you are only borrowing his function. A reminder of the significance of this gift he’s giving you. 

No matter what it takes, you won’t let it go to waste. 

Your eyes fall closed as you inhale deeply. As the pages of the Book of Souls flutter open under your touch, the sweet scent of ink and paper greets your nose. When you flatten your hand atop the open page before you, it’s with conviction. 

Show me. 

With an exhale, the world around you disappears. 

. . . 

When the Book of Souls pulls you in, it’s as if you’ve been plunged into lukewarm water. Though the world you float in is neither hot nor cold, it’s no less jarring. When you try to draw in a breath, your lungs refuse. When you open your eyes, you find nothing but solid, suffocating darkness. Your palm won’t lift from the page it rests on. 

For a brief, terrifying moment, panic surges through you. You’ve felt like this before—trapped in darkness, unable to move, robbed of air. It’s almost too much, too quickly. 

But then, a familiar feeling surfaces. A stirring in your chest, a hum that calls from your heart like the sweetest song. A sensation you haven’t felt in weeks. That you haven’t felt since you last saw Dream.

The answer is here.

Show me, you speak into the darkness, sweeping your palm over the book’s ancient pages. Show me what I need to see. 

Fulfilling your function has always been a visual endeavor. Fostering attachments, placing premonitions in dreams—it all required the ability to picture events in your mind, to imagine the future transpiring as you saw fit. 

But this—this is different. This isn’t visual—this is a feeling. Standing at the center of the universe, you feel attachments unfurl around you. Expanding outward, they curl and curve and twist like the Garden of Forking Ways. Glowing brightly amidst the darkness, the threads of white, red, orange, yellow, green, blue, and purple spring outward like tree roots. When they reach their destination, a glowing outline of the mortal they belong to springs to life. Suddenly, you’re no longer alone, as millions upon millions of souls are revealed in the darkness. The threads continue to unspool, gaining speed, connecting mortals in an intricate web of divine design, expanding onward and onward and onward—

And suddenly, stillness breaks the rush of momentum. A soft gasp escapes you as you watch seven radiant threads unfurl from your own chest. Philia. Eros. Philautia. Erotoropia. Storge. Pragma. Agape. 

They stretch outward, seven lights that outshine the darkness. When they find their home, a familiar silhouette burns to life. Tall and slender, with a wild mop of hair. When his radiant silhouette is complete, he turns toward you. 

And you smile. 

. . . 

Retracting your hand from the Book of Souls feels like coming up for air. You heave in great gulps of it as your eyes fly open and the book falls shut between your hands. In a daze, you look around, gathering your bearings. When your eyes rest on Destiny, you find him watching you expectantly. 

“Wow. You do that all day, every day?” you ask, still trying to catch your breath. 

“I suspect my experience looking into the Book of Souls is different than yours, but yes,” Destiny says, his voice matter-of-fact. “To do so is my function, and my function is my purpose. 

Yep, he’s definitely Dream’s brother. 

You hand the Book of Souls back to him with care. As it leaves your hands, you feel lighter and heavier all at once. The knowledge you’ve gleaned from it burns at the forefront of your mind. Now that it’s back in Destiny’s possession, a realization settles over you. “You know how this is all going to end,” you say quietly. 

Destiny returns the Book of Souls to its rightful place under his arm. His thumb sweeps over its leather spine with something like fondness. “I do,” he says. 

“And I don’t suppose you’d be willing to give me a head’s up about anything?” 

There is an understanding in the silence between you. 

“I’ll try my best to do right by your book. And both of your siblings. I assure you,” you say, offering the Endless a firm nod. Then, you lift your chin, preparing to make one last request. “Before I leave, I do need your help with one last thing.”

“I know.”

. . .

The coffee shop buzzes with quiet chatter as you step through the front door. In another time–in what seems now like another life entirely–you would have been eager to approach the counter and find a unique item on the menu to try. The local special, something you couldn’t get anywhere else.

But today, your mind is not on coffee. You are focused on how the hum of conversation and the movement of patrons through the small shop will make it easy for you to slip away unnoticed. Your conversation with Destiny from mere hours ago plays on a loop in your mind. 

“The scales of love and desire lie within the pane where the Realm of Attachment and the Threshold meet. The sharing of your scales allows both you and Desire to traverse one another’s realms. Desire crosses this boundary each time they venture into yours.”

“But how do I find the pane? I’ve never seen the place where our realms meet.”

“How do you normally travel to your realm?”

When your fingers graze the shoulder of a mother sharing a muffin with her young son, your touch is featherlight, unnoticeable. The Realm of Attachment beckons you, urging you to step into this coffee shop on another plane of existence. When you reach out and through her, however, you don’t simply seek the alternate reality of this shop. Instead, you have a specific destination in mind. 

Take me to the place where the Realm of Attachment and the Threshold meet. 

A warm breeze ghosts across your cheeks, dancing through your hair. When you open your eyes, the sight that greets you steals the breath from your lungs. 

The world you’ve stepped into has been split in two. The half on which you stand is a kaleidoscope of colors, an intricate web of red, orange, yellow, green, blue, purple, and white threads that braid and twist and intertwine. The tapestry they weave is radiant, prismatic, as intricate and delicate as the fibers of a human iris. 

As the threads stretch out before you, however, they begin to bleed like watercolors. Where the threads blur and dissipate, clouds form in their place. Far in the distance, a humanoid citadel rises up from within them. Hands outstretched toward the sky, an enormous heart lies exposed in the center of its chest. Even from this distance, you can see the pulse of each heartbeat. You can even make out the familiar features on the citadel’s face. 

“So, this is how you’ve been visiting me all this time,” you whisper into the open air. As your feet carry you forward, toward the place where your worlds melt into one another, your hand rises of its own accord. When you extend your palm forward, you feel it rest on a flat surface that is invisible to the eye, but cool to the touch. Like a window between worlds. 

When Destiny had referenced a pane, it seems he’d meant it literally. 

“Fancy meeting you here, darling.”

At the familiar sing-song of Desire’s voice, you immediately pull your palm from the invisible pane. Turning to your right, you watch as the Endless walks toward you, feet ghosting over the clouds with feline grace. That was the thing about windows, you supposed–they worked both ways. 

Throughout your divine existence, you’ve had many encounters with Desire. Often, they incited feelings of panic, terror, anger, or annoyance. But today, it is an eerie sense of calm that settles over you as the Endless approaches. You wonder if they can sense it. 

“Correct me if I’m mistaken, but it appears that you and my dear brother Dream have had a falling out,” Desire coos, drifting from cloud to cloud like a phantom clothed in black. When they come to a stop across from you, they place their hands on their narrow hips, golden eyes wide and flashing. “You just can’t play along, can you?” 

You draw in a long breath through your nose, exhaling slowly through parted lips. Encouraging yourself to remember what your purpose is, the reason you’ve traveled here. One hand slips into your coat pocket, allowing your fingers to dance across the soft cloth of Dream’s sand pouch. Your memento. Your good luck charm. 

In spite of Desire’s taunting, the calm remains. 

You suspect your lack of response comes as a surprise, because Desire quirks one eyebrow at you. Slowly, they begin to pace back and forth on the other side of the invisible pane, eying you like a lamb led to slaughter. “No, I suppose you can’t. You’ve always had a little rebel in you, right from the beginning. Normally, I’d find that endearing.” Desire pauses to tilt their head at you. Their tongue flashes over their bone-white teeth. “Please, though–do share, darling. How did it feel to rip my brother’s heart from his chest? To hold it in your hand and squeeze? I’m dying to know.” 

Your hand closes around the pouch of sand in your pocket, a subtle movement that maintains your composure. “That’s enough, Desire,” you warn, your voice firm and even. 

The Endless’s eyes flash at your retort. Their delicate features contort with agitation. When they speak, their voice is sharp with malice. “Be honest, little goddess. Look at yourself–exhausted, battered, broken, and alone. Was it really worth it? Dying for your dear first love, all those years ago? Just to end up here?”

A thousand memories flash through your mind at Desire’s words, a highlight reel of your entire divine life. A re-living of all the things you would have missed if your life had ended that night by that fire with those hands around your neck. Long conversations with Death at funerals and battlegrounds. The pure elation of fostering billions upon billions of attachments, including Matt and Ava’s. Laughing over cups of hot tea and mugs of cold beer with Hob. Sharing cream cheese and morning cuddles with Theo, basking in the selfless love you shared. Quiet mornings spent reading and organizing the library with Lucienne. Dirty jokes, walks through Fiddler’s Green, and drops of coffee shared with Matthew. 

Seeing Dream for the first time, a single run of black ink against a vibrant wall of stained glass. The thinly-veiled awe in his eyes when you’d shown him your world, when he’d locked eyes with you at the wedding in the forest. Marveling at a sky full of stars when he swept you under his cloak. Quiet hums of intrigue as you fed him ideas for new dreams and nightmares. Teal and lavender stardust swirling in his eyes under a midnight sky as you combined your functions to create something new. 

The feeling of Dream’s warm palm against your tentative fingers. The silken sense of safety you felt as you sat together on the Dreaming’s beach after a night plagued with memories. Tossing him seashells on the honey-gold beach he’d created for you. The surety that had blazed in his eyes when he’d vowed to protect you. The soft vulnerability in his eyes when he’d admitted that he remembered you. 

The sweet cashmere press of his lips against yours. Opening up into each other’s arms on the honey-gold beach under a starlit sky. A vow lovingly whispered into your ear. And the pain that had come after, when the greatest act of love you could give was protecting him by stepping away. It was a love worth giving anything for–worth giving everything for. 

It’s time. 

You smile. “Yes. Yes, it was.” 

And with that, you lift your hand to touch the invisible pane between you. 

When your palm rests against its cool surface, you exhale slowly, reaching out, reaching through. Just like you’ve done countless times before. Under your influence, the once-invisible pane shimmers like stars. 

Desire’s face falls in an instant. “What are you doing?” they ask, taking a jolting step toward you. 

You breathe in and out slowly, maintaining your composure. You can feel the destination that lies not on the other side of the pane, but within the pane. The scales of love and desire call out to you like a song you’ve always known. “I’m ending this,” you say, your voice calm and sure. “I’m balancing our scales once and for all.” 

Desire’s eyebrows raise, then furrow. “Impossible,” the Endless spits angrily. “That’s out of your league, darling. You don’t have the strength.” 

The small smile that had lifted your lips moments ago evolves into a full-fledged grin. “I guess we’ll see, won’t we?” 

Closing your eyes, you begin to reach out, searching for the realm that calls out to you beyond the pane. The sound of Desire drawing nearer makes you pause. You fight the urge to open your eyes, to display any hint of indecision. “No matter what you do, Love, you still won’t escape me. As long as you love my darling brother, I can control him. And you.”

A pressure builds in your chest, bubbling forth until you can’t contain it any longer. Laughter. Tension radiates from Desire at the sound, prickling against your skin. “You see, that’s the funny thing. You can’t. Because if you do, I’ll throw your scales off-balance.” You can feel the Endless drawing nearer, almost close enough to touch. “You shouldn’t have made me leave Dream. Because it gave me so much time to think. So much time to grow stronger. I’m done playing nice, Desire. Dream doesn’t fear you. And now, neither do I.”

Just as you feel the tips of Desire’s fingers swipe across your forearm, you reach out, reach through. 

For a moment, you’re falling, falling, falling. The world tips and spins like an aerotrim as you slip into the plane between worlds. 

And then, solid ground beneath your feet.

When you first try to open your eyes, the sheer brightness of your surroundings forces you to close them again. It takes several moments for your pupils to adjust to the brilliant white you’re enveloped in. When they do, you find yourself standing in a near-featureless world. There is no ground, no sky, no walls–only a vibrant, endless white that extends in all directions, as far as you can see. 

The only occupant of this void besides yourself is the balance scale that towers before you. It’s enormous–easily three times your height. With its gleaming gold construction and intricate engravings, it looks like it was pulled straight from antiquity. The links of chain that support the scale’s pans clink softly as they tip back and forth, constantly in motion. 

Above one pan hovers a familiar heart cut from black glass, glowing from within with crimson light. Desire’s sigil. Above the other pan hovers a heart cut from clear crystal. Prisms glisten off its surface, catching and scattering in the white light. Though you’ve never seen it before, you know in your bones that it’s your own.

You watch as the scales tip back and forth almost imperceptibly, responding to the fulfillment and expiration of attachments in real time. In spite of their constant movement, it’s Desire’s pan that hangs lower, outweighing your own. They carry the favor–for now.

Breathless, you gaze at the scales in awe, your lips parted, your jaw slack. The scales of love and desire had been a presence in your life for millennia. And yet, they’d always seemed far off, more of a myth than a reality. To see them in person is stunning, awe-inspiring. 

And, above all else, it’s exhilarating. Standing in the scales’ presence is unlike anything you’ve ever felt before. Your power, normally a sweet hum beneath the surface of your skin, is loud, insistent, demanding. It bellows through your veins like a choir, rattling your bones with seismic force. Your fists clench tightly at your sides as the sheer magnitude of it floods your senses.  It’s almost too much. But it’s not—it’s exactly enough. 

For the first time in your entire immortal life, you truly feel divine. 

It’s time to show Desire what you can really do. 

You cross the space between yourself and the scales with surety. When your hand rests against the golden support between the two pans, the air is ripped from your lungs with supernatural force. Molten warmth pours through you from your soul to your fingertips, a liquid light that illuminates every nook and crevice, filling you up, up, up. It leaves room for nothing else.

“Show me,” you command with a voice that is both your own and a stranger’s.

In an instant, the once-white world around you is cut through by billions of threads. Red, orange, yellow, green, blue, purple, white, and black. They cross and twine and interlace across every inch of this world, from the heavens above to the expanse beneath your feet. 

Your heart sings in their presence, every nerve in your body thrumming like a tuning fork. In spite of the intricate design of the tapestry that surrounds you, you can see who each thread belongs to, and exactly where each one leads. The knowledge that the Book of Souls gifted you burns like a brand upon your mind.

Somewhere out there, seven threads call to you. One in each color of the rainbow. The ones that you and Dream are destined to share.

With a shuddering breath, you pull from within, coaxing the future you saw in Destiny’s book to the forefront. All at once, a billion images flash through your mind. A billion meetings, a billion acts of selflessness, a billion touches, a billion ‘I love you’s.’ 

Eros, philia, and agape. All of them, for the remainder of time. The seven attachments you’re meant to share with Dream. All waiting to happen. All waiting on your word. 

“In this way, it shall be.”

And the world around you rejoices.

Every eros, philia, and agape attachment surrounding you illuminates at once, bathing you in red, white, and gold. Though they’re hidden from your view, you feel your own attachments call out to you, singing songs of gratitude, their voices sweet with joy. 

A wave of vertigo washes through you, nearly robbing you of your balance. You grip the pillar supporting the scales with white knuckles, breathless. Before you, the scales creak and groan. Desire’s pan rises slowly as favor tips from their side toward your own, inching closer to balance. 

Then, suddenly, it stops. Your eyes dart to the pointer at the top of the support, the piece that indicates whether the scales have reached balance. It remains tilted ever so slightly to the right. Ever so slightly in Desire’s favor.

It’s not enough.

Panic surges through you in a fury, making you hot and dizzy. No, no, this couldn’t be. You hadn’t come this far, hadn’t sacrificed this much, only to fail. You couldn’t fail. You had to succeed for them. For Dream.

Your eyes scan the tapestry of attachments that surround you, desperate for answers. You can sense the threads of desire that are interwoven alongside a multitude of the eros, philia, and agape attachments you’ve just ensured. In spite of your fortification, you know their presence is still a risk, a threat. 

There’s only one way to be certain that they’ll never be corrupted by desire, a voice whispers in the back of your mind, it’s tone low and grave. 

That wasn’t part of the plan, another retorts, it’s tone urgent, insistent. 

Your breath hitches as they bicker. Blood pounds in your ears, the palm of your hand slick with sweat against the golden support of the scale. Unlike the voice of doubt that often whispered in the back of your mind, both of these voices were earnest. They both spoke the truth. 

But there was only one way forward. Only one way to put an end to this. 

You hesitate for only a moment before flattening your palm against the cool surface of the scale. You hesitate for only a moment before you raise your opposite hand into the air. You hesitate for only a moment before you picture yourself grabbing the threads of desire strung alongside your eros, philia, and agape attachments, and make a fist.

You think of all of them. You think of Dream.

And then, you rip them all apart.

A thousand black threads dissolve from the sky instantaneously. The pan that holds the prism heart shifts downward, falling level beside Desire’s. The scale’s pointer reaches resolution with a resounding ring.

And your body is cleaved in two by a pain unlike anything you’ve ever known. 

A brilliant light floods your vision, swallowing the attachments, the scales, everything in sight. In an instant, you’re ripped backwards, as if pulled along by a string. Agony roars through your veins, blistering your nerves like fire, biting at your skin like ice. 

When you’re flung back into the Realm of Attachment, it’s on your hands and knees. Your body trembles as you hack and wheeze. You draw your forehead to your knees, curling into yourself, trying to shrink away from the pain. It offers no relief. This isn’t a pain you can shrink away from. This is a pain that comes from within. 

Your lungs burn as if lit with kerosene. Your body feels as if it's been drug from a moving vehicle. Blood oozes from your lips in long, sticky ropes. Your eyes throb with exhaustion. When you close them, a familiar darkness swells up to drag you under. 

You’ve been here before. 

“What have you done?” The roar that reaches your ears is guttural, inhuman. With a moan, you raise your head to look for the source. Several paces away, on the opposite side of the invisible pane that divides your worlds, you find Desire hunched over. Their fingers clutch desperately at their chest, as if in pain. 

When their eyes meet yours, there is a fury in them unlike anything you’ve ever seen. Teeth bared like an animal, they straighten, crossing the invisible pane into the Realm of Attachment as if it was nothing. Something instinctive and primal surges through you at their approach, at the sight of their hand reaching toward you. “What the hell have you done, you insolent–”

Adrenaline floods your veins like a drug. In a blink, you’re on your feet. You grip Desire’s forearm with a force that could bruise. “Do not touch me,” you growl through bloodstained teeth. 

Desire’s face falls slack at your command, their skin pale as milk. There is something in the pinch of their brows, in the twitch of their eye, in the tightness of their lips, that you thought you’d never see in them. Fear.

Pain pulses at the edges of your awareness, the darkness crowding close behind. They’re present, but distant. Only adrenaline and sheer will keep them at bay. Just a little longer. 

Your palm presses against Desire’s chest with trembling fingers. Power thrums through your veins like a heartbeat. You wonder if the Endless can feel it, too. “This is over,” you say, your voice a gurgle in your throat. You swallow down the bitter taste of copper. “Leave. And don’t come back.”

Desire’s golden eyes widen. In an instant, the Endless is ripped from your grip, jerked back into their realm as if attached to their own invisible string. In a blur, they disappear from sight, pulled into the clouds. There is a bright shimmer of silver as the pane that once stood invisible materializes, solidifying into a wall that blocks the Threshold from sight. 

You are alone. The world is completely, utterly silent. 

You’ve done it. 

As the adrenaline wanes from your system, a new sensation rises to take its place. Something so sweet and warm, it’s almost painful. Joy. 

A soft laugh of disbelief bubbles up from your throat. It’s cut short by a sharp, piercing pain in your gut, a knife that digs and twists. 

You move to take a step, to turn and walk away from the wall that now divides your realm from Desire’s. But it doesn’t come. Instead, you fold like paper, crumpling to the ground. When you try to stand with a groan, your body refuses. Instead, you sink lower. 

Your breathing is quick and shallow as you lean back, resting your head against the ground. It feels good to relieve the pressure of gravity from your battered body. Too good. When you close your eyes with a sigh, a numbness creeps into the tips of your extremities. It’s…familiar. 

Yes, you’ve been here before. Don’t you remember?

When you’d awoken all those millenia ago to hands around your neck, you’d walked into a future you couldn’t turn back from. You’d had a penchant for doing that all your life. When you’d met Dream. When you’d committed to fighting Desire, whatever the cost. When you’d opened the Dream Lord’s book. When you’d given yourself to him on that honey-gold beach by the sea. 

And now, it seems you've done it again. 

Woozy and disoriented, you almost swear you feel a rush of hot air by your cheek, accompanied by the familiar sound of Desire’s voice in your ear. “Was it worth it?” 

When you open your eyes, you’re alone. The silver wall remains in place, a reminder of what you’ve accomplished. 

But it was worth it, wasn’t it? You had accomplished the task you’d set forth to complete. Your function was fulfilled; the eros, philia, and agape attachments that mortals would share for the remainder of time had been fostered, fulfilled, and protected. Any thread of desire that could hope to overthrow them had been destroyed. And you had made your trade, allowing Desire the opportunity to interact with philautia, erotoropia, storge, and pragma attachments, if they so chose. Love and desire co-existing together. A balance. 

It was a shame you wouldn’t get to see it for yourself. 

And then, of course, there was Dream. The Book of Souls had shown that your life had been fulfilled according to its plan. You were always meant to love him. Always meant to end up here. Your destiny was to share all seven forms of attachment with him. Even if only for a brief time, it was enough. That true, all-encompassing, soul-deep kind of love was one so few got to enjoy. You’d never imagined that such a blessing would be yours. 

“Yes,” you whisper into the empty air. “Yes, it was worth it.”

You needed to tell him. You needed to let him know, before it was too late. 

Your hand reaches into your pocket with trembling fingers. They slip and fumble as they try to undo the cloth tie on the Dream Lord’s pouch of sand. When you bring a handful of grains to your lips, your tongue feels heavy, your mouth bitter with copper. 

“I don’t know if you work the opposite way, but bring me Dream. Please,” you croak. Your lungs wheeze as you send the grains scattering through the air. 

The world is still and silent. Though you wait on pins and needles, nothing happens. When the exhaustion behind your eyes becomes too great, you close them. 

And that’s when you feel it–a breeze across your cheek, dancing through your hair. A gentle warmth unfurls itself within your chest, sweet as honey, supple as silk. Distantly, you remember crafting Fawn with the Dream Lord on your second visit to his realm. The dream that was meant to make mortals feel weightless and free. If she could have visited your own resting hours, you imagine her presence would have felt like this. 

And when you open your eyes, he’s there. Dream of the Endless stands just a few feet away, the back of his long, dripping cloak facing you. Though you can’t see his face, you can sense his surprise. There is a tension in his shoulders as he cranes his neck, looking back and forth, taking in the sight of the silver wall and the rainbow-woven world he’s found himself in.

Then, he turns to you. As he does, he catches sight of the six radiant threads that link you. Red, romantic eros; the white soul-tie of philia; the calming blue of self-love, philautia; the flirty purple of erotoropia; the firey orange of companionship, pragma; and golden, selfless agape. As his eyes follow the trail that connects his heart to yours, the glow of your attachments catch in his pale blue gaze like the aurora borealis. When they rest on you, the outside world melts away, as it always has. Shock, awe, and relief rear in those eyes in equal measure. When the corner of his rosebud lips upturns ever so slightly into the ghost of a smile, it feels like coming home. 

It hits you, then, like a freight train, like a ton of bricks. Just how desperately you’ve missed him. Just how raggedly, haphazardly incomplete you’ve been without him. And just how little time you have left. 

That’s when he sees them–the bloodstains on your chin. The Dream Lord’s face drains of what little color it has.

“Hey, Dream,” you croak, strumming your attachments with quivering fingers. They glow and sing under your touch, infusing your chest with a warmth that serves as a momentary distraction from the pain in your core, the numbness in your toes. You strum them again. “Surprise.” 

The Dream Lord is on you in an instant. Crouching beside you, his hands make a frenzied sweep over your body, searching for wounds. Of course, he’ll find none on the surface. A fresh wave of pain courses through you, sending your eyes rolling into the back of your head. With a grunt, you pull them downward, focusing on him, only him. When your vision clears of stars, he’s looking at you. 

“What are these?” he asks, grazing his fingers along the attachments that bind you. When the bonds hum under his touch, his lips part ever so slightly in awe. You can still remember his first visit to your realm, when he’d tried to touch the elderly couple’s philia attachment. The confusion on his face when his hand had passed through it had been amusing, endearing. This was different, though. These attachments were his. They were yours. Together.

In spite of the pain, you smile. The red of your teeth is reflected in his pale eyes. “There may be a couple of things I haven’t told you,” you whisper. The action pulls another round of coughs from you. Blood drips down your chin like saliva. 

Dream catches it swiftly, wiping the trail away with the gentle press of his thumb. There is a frenzy in his eyes that you’ve never seen before as he assesses problems and grapples for solutions in real time. You wonder if he’s finding any answers. His voice is tight and forced when he asks, “What has happened?”

The numbness creeps higher, edging into your knees, your elbows. You blink hard, trying to focus, but it’s becoming more and more challenging. The world beyond Dream swims, individual threads blurring together like watercolors. “I did it, Dream. I balanced the scales that Desire and I share forever. I saved them.” Your mind tumbles and spins, thoughts set adrift on a fresh wave of pain. You scramble to gather them. “I saved you.”

You wonder if he thinks you’re delirious from blood loss. A thousand questions wage war in his eyes. “How?” he finally asks.

You offer him a half-hearted grin. “Let’s just say you and your brother are a lot alike.”

Dream’s dark brows draw together, carving wrinkles into his forehead. You imagine yourself spending eternity tracing each one with gentle fingers. Yes–that would be a welcome afterlife. That would make you happy. 

“Destiny?” His voice sounds tight, hurt. His blue eyes flash with something sharp and aching. Betrayal. He thinks his brother betrayed him. You shake your head, opening your mouth to tell him otherwise, to explain that this was your plan. Your voice cracks, broken by a fresh spell of coughs that makes the very marrow of your bones throb. When you  moan in pain, Dream’s arms slip around you, drawing you close to his chest. You curl into him eagerly. “We must take you to the Dreaming,” he says, his voice insistent, urgent. “You must be healed.” 

The earnest determination in the steel of his eyes, in the set of his jaw, makes your heart brim with a painful sort of joy. The numbness creeps forth, stealing the pain from your arms and legs, leaving a blissful nothing in its wake. You release a shuddering breath–part relieved, part terrified. Your eyes prickle and blur. When you blink to clear them, you taste salt. “I don’t think that’s my future, Dream. I…I don’t think I’m gonna get to keep that vow after all.”

Dream’s grip on your body tightens. In that moment, a new sensation grips you. Not pain, not numbness, but panic. Sorrow. When you meet his gaze, his rosebud lips are tight, his eyes glistening and wet. That’s when you realize that it’s him that you’re feeling. You’re feeling his emotions, through the bonds you share. 

“No,” he says, his voice firm. He speaks with the authority of a being accustomed to the world bending to his will. “I will not allow it. There must be a way.” 

The concoction of fear and desperation in his chest crushes your own, robbing the breath from your lungs. You’d transcend realms and multiverses to wipe the worry from his brow, sacrifice every molecule of your being to ease the tightness in his chest. You don’t have much to give now. But you’ll give him all you can. 

It takes every ounce of your waning will to lift your hand to his cheek without crying out. When your palm finds the softness of his cheek, your fingers trace the sharp lines of his nose and jaw with adoration. He leans into your touch with reverence. The shared tightness in your chests eases ever so slightly. You breathe a little more deeply than before. 

“Please, Dream. I don’t want to spend this time left on a quest for a cure that doesn’t exist. I just want you.” Your thumb finds the plush swell of his bottom lip, tracing it fondly. When you make your request, your voice is soft and tired. “Take me to the stars, Dream Lord?” 

For a long moment, Dream watches you in silence. His eyes flicker back and forth between your own, searching for answers, searching for a way out. You can see the exact moment his determination breaks, the exact moment his eyes dim when he finds none. As his eyelashes flutter closed, as he presses his cheek into the palm of your hand, the first tear falls. It trails down his nose, plipping softly onto your cheek, mingling with your own. And, in that moment, you know he won’t deny your request. 

In a slow, practiced movement, the Dream Lord grasps the hem of his cloak, whisking it over the two of you in a flourish. You watch in quiet awe as a blanket of stars unrolls itself around you, encasing you both in the gentle caress of the cosmos. Constellations twinkle brightly overhead. The Milky Way arches over your bodies in a dappled stream of black, purple, and pinprick stars. It reminds you of the nights you spent with Dream on that honey-gold beach, the night he painted you a story in the sky, the night you made your vows to one another. You smile. 

You’re not sure what it is about lying amongst the cosmos. Perhaps it’s the peace they instill in you, or the memories you’ve made beneath them, or how being amongst them feels like coming home. But when the numbness overtakes you, dissolving the pain into nothing, it’s not alarming, or frightening. It feels like being embraced by an old friend. Vaguely, you wonder if Death will greet you as you move into whatever lies beyond this. Did she come for gods and goddesses, or only mortals?

Dream must feel the moment the pain dissipates from your body. His hand leaves his cloak in a rush, shifting to cradle your face, instead. Without the pain to ground you, reality is a harder concept to keep a hold of. All at once, the stars above you begin to twist and spin. You blink, hard, but their dance continues. “Thank you. Looking at them…is so calming to me.” Your gaze shifts to the stars in Dream’s eyes, straining to focus. “I told you that once, didn’t I? Do you remember that?” 

A thick swallow works down the column of Dream’s throat. “I do,” he rasps, his voice quiet and raw. 

Your lips lift in a lazy, contented smile. No longer inhibited by pain, you lift one hand to card your fingers through his wild hair. “I’ve always loved the stars,” you tell him. Your voice sounds far away, sluggish, like it’s been reduced to half speed. “Even…even when I was a mortal. I think.”

Dream exhales quietly, a rush of air that chills the tears drying on your cheeks. His hair is feathers between your fingers. Soft as silk. You want to nestle your nose in it, to press your cheek to it. It would be such a soft place to lay. Such a soft place to go to sleep. 

“Look at me, Love.” 

And you are. Of course, you’re looking at him–you can’t stop looking at him. Because he’s everywhere. Because he’s everything. Dark, disheveled hair; pale skin; blue eyes; soft lips. You want to kiss him and kiss him until he stops talking. You want to smooth the worry from his pinched brow, to light up his eyes with laughter. 

I’ve still never heard him laugh, the realization drifts in from somewhere beyond the stars, settling over you in a daze. Your chest aches at the thought, so much more painful than any wound. 

Suddenly, his thumb is brushing your cheek, the other squeezing your shoulder. He’s trying to be gentle, you can tell. You must have dozed off. His voice seems far away now, as if he’s talking through water. You squint your eyes, trying to read his lips. He’s urging you to move, you realize. ‘Moving will keep you alert,’ he’s telling you. But why would you ever want to move from this spot when you can see him so perfectly clearly? You drink him in like a flower in a drought, a drifter in a famine. Memorizing every slope and curve and line as if for the last time, desperately hopeful that you’ll get to take them with you. His voice is a lifeline, but you can feel your grip slipping. 

Darkness pulls at the edges of your vision. You can feel the sweet things it promises–rest, rejuvenation, peace. Your hand slips from Dream’s hair to his cheek, holding his gaze to yours. You have to tell him. You have to tell him, before you go. 

“I have to tell you something,” you say, your voice scarcely more than a whisper. 

The pain in Dream’s eyes is raw and earnest. You can feel it, through the numbness, through your bonds. It settles in the nooks of your heart like the notes of a sad love song, beautiful and devastating, all at once.  When you first met him, you had wondered if you’d ever coax him to shed his armor, to be vulnerable with you. Oh, how little you’d known back then. 

“Do not.” His plea is quiet, his voice gravelly and broken. “I beg of you.” 

Maker, he’s a fool. You know he wants to know. He needs to know. 

“I read the Book of Souls, Dream. And it’s all been for you. Every decision, every moment–it all led me to you.” You turn your head slightly, pressing a soft kiss to the palm that cradles your cheek. “I was always meant to be yours. You’re what I was running to, even when I didn’t know it. You are what I was running for. You are my dream, Dream.” 

For a brief moment, the torment in Dream’s eyes softens. When his eyes fall to the threads of attachment between you, each one glows brighter under his gaze. He swallows, hard, in understanding. 

His body folds over your own slowly, carefully. As if he can shield you from whatever intends to come and claim you. His feather-soft hair tickles your forehead and cheeks as he leans in. His shallow breath is warm and sweet across your skin. When he presses his lips to yours, it feels like a vow, a prayer, a promise. Salt and copper mingle between your lips. When he exhales, you breathe in. You hold his breath in your lungs, a piece of him to harbor close to your heart, to take with you when you go. 

“Maybe you’ll be there,” you whisper against his lips. “Maybe I’ll get to dream of you, in whatever lies after this.” 

The tip of Dream’s nose trails along your own, then across your cheek. When he finds the tender hollow under your ear, that sacred place that only he knows, he presses his lips into it delicately, adoringly. You close your eyes with a soft, contented sigh. 

“There is nowhere you can go that I will not find you,” he breathes against your skin. His voice is raw, but sure. “I will find you.” 

Your laugh is weak and breathless, but happy, nonetheless. It feels good to laugh without the pain. The numbness feels good.

“So stubborn,” you chide softly, nestling deeper into his arms. His skin is warm through the thin fabric of his shirt. You press your cheek against it with a sigh. Until there’s no place where you end and I begin.  “If anyone could find me, Dream Lord, it would be you.” 

His heartbeat is a lullaby in your ear. It coaxes you into a soul-deep sort of contentment, a peace unlike anything you’ve ever experienced. You could stay here with him, in this moment, in this feeling, forever. Is this what falling asleep feels like? “I…”

Th-thump, th-thump, th-thump, th-thump, th–

. . .

[wanderingthroughsands]

VIII. If you don’t know where you are going…

Can you help me out, can you lend a hand? It’s safe to say that I’m stuck again Trapped between this life and the light I just can’t figure out how to make it right

– "Rain" by Creed

The first thing I saw upon opening my eyes was the face of Dreamlord, mere inches away from my own. My ears rang, and my entire body felt helpless, limp, stripped of any ability to move. Lord Morpheus gripped my shoulders firmly, kneeling before me on the marble floor, his endless gaze piercing through me. As my thoughts slowly began to return, and the palace surroundings sharpened, I noticed something in his face… fatigue. His brows were furrowed, and his lips pressed into a thin line. I felt his slow, deep breaths on my cheeks, and his strong hold on my arms, as though he wouldn’t allow me to collapse.

“Dreamlord,” I spoke weakly, letting our eyes meet. “Are you all right?”

He didn’t answer, just continued to gaze at me unflinchingly. With each passing second, my strength and awareness of what had happened returned, but I didn’t dare move even a fraction while he was so close to me. His grip loosened slightly, yet the intensity of his stare remained. His presence, nearer than ever before, awakened something new in me—something that nearly displaced the fear and anticipation I had long known.

“For a moment, I thought… I was certain… But you let me live. What happened?” I asked, almost in a whisper, afraid that careless words might disturb the extraordinary energy surrounding us.

“Something went wrong,” Dreamlord replied just as softly. “You weren’t supposed to feel that pain. Your power…”

“You didn’t take it from me?”

“My lord!”

Lucienne found us kneeling across from one another in the middle of the throne room, speaking in hushed tones, our closeness almost making us appear as one. At the sound of her voice, Dreamlord finally tore his gaze from mine and, standing, extended his hand to help me rise.

"Is everything all right?" Lucienne asked, concern in her voice as she stood beside me, facing Lord Morpheus. "Something happened in the Dreaming, my lord—something like a tremor, but it felt as if the very foundations of the realm were shaking."

"I attempted to extract a fragment of my Nightmare from Rebecca Surrey's existence, but..." He turned to the woman, and in the colorful light streaming through the stained glass windows, the exhaustion on his face was even more evident. "Her power would not submit to me. It attacked me."

"Attacked you...?" Lucienne's words faltered, and she cast a surprised glance in my direction. "Are you... unharmed, my lord?"

"That power..." Dreamlord continued, as if he hadn’t heard her question. "I cannot comprehend it, Lucienne. Even the Corinthian, my most perfected Nightmare, couldn’t fight me like that. It wanted to repel me, to wound me, without regard for the life of its bearer."

"How is that possible?" Lucienne's expression was already one of astonishment, yet somehow her brows rose even higher. "If Rebecca was born from the Nightmare..."

"...then why did she not yield to her creator, to Dream of the Endless? What have you done to preserve your power, Rebecca Surrey?" he turned his attention back to me, and once again, that familiar dark shadow settled over his sharp features.

"I..." I stammered as fear suddenly surged back into me, crashing like a wave. "I really, truly don’t know, Lord Morpheus."

"Mind that you are addressing King of the Dreaming, the Ruler of this realm, the Endless, Master of Dreams and Nightmares, of hope and of torment..." With each word, his voice, which could shake the very pillars of the universe, echoed more menacingly through the palace chamber. "I expect you to answer my question truthfully."

"I swear on my life," I said, remaining rooted to the spot, though every fiber of my being wanted to flee from the overwhelming force of his energy. "That I did nothing to defend my power. You know I was willing to give it up to you, Dreamlord."

We fell silent, locked in a gaze like predator and prey before the final battle. I could see the anger in his eyes, and he must have seen my fear, but surely he also saw my resolve. Like him, I couldn't understand why the power I had already resigned myself to losing refused to leave me. The attack on him had happened as if without my will, manifesting as pain in the deepest recesses of my being.

And Lord Morpheus, instead of continuing the fight, had spared me. He had spared me yet again.

"We must find out why Rebecca's power resists yours, my lord," Lucienne said cautiously after the silence had stretched on. "There is no record of her second parent in the Book of her history. If the Corinthian is indeed the father, as the traces he left suggest, perhaps he can help us understand..."

"I will not restore the Corinthian to the Dreaming, Lucienne," Dreamlord interrupted coldly. "He caused too much damage here and in the waking world."

Lucienne lowered her gaze for a moment.

"Then perhaps the fault lies with the Vortex?"

"The Vortex appeared years after Rebecca Surrey was born. And, like no Vortex before in millennia, it would not have been able to instill such power in a human child." He turned his gaze back to me, as if analyzing me from head to toe. I remained silent, waiting for him to pass his divine judgment, unaware of what might be brewing behind the unreadable facade of his face. "In recent times, I have presented you with many choices," he said at last. "You chose to surrender your power to me, yet I am unable to take it from you. You are something I cannot explain. And until I learn why your power opposed mine, I will have to keep you in my realm."

"Dreamlord," I responded, a surge of defiance rising within me at the cold, hollow look in his eyes. "You seek the truth about the origin of my power, and so do I. I would gladly help you in the search for answers... but you just cannot imprison me here."

The calm aura that surrounded him almost perpetually suddenly vanished. He stepped toward me, and as I lifted my gaze to meet his, he seemed larger and more powerful than ever before. Darkness enveloped his eyes, swallowed his features, and instead of the pale man I had once seen in the park just before the accident, I saw an infinite, dangerous night, slowly wrapping its tendrils around me.

He was no longer the person I had first encountered. He was the Endless. The Lord of the Dreaming. A being of unimaginable power.

"I have endured your defiance time and again, Rebecca Surrey," he spoke, his voice so deep and filled with rage that I felt it reverberate through my fingertips. "You dare to make demands of Dream of the Endless, and instead of destroying you the moment I found you, I try to fulfill them to save your fragile human life. So now, you will heed my demand."

"I wanted to give you my life," I whispered, struggling to catch my breath as my racing heart constricted my chest. "I’ve done everything you’ve asked of me."

"By defying me? Hiding within my Nightmares? Failing the purpose for which you were created?" He leaned in closer, and I stopped breathing altogether, staring into the dangerous darkness of the night he had become. "I know you could wake now and return to your world. But you won't do this. Not until I allow it. I need to hear it from you, Rebecca Surrey. I need you to promise that you will not leave the Dreaming until I give you permission."

I swallowed hard, fighting against the rising tide of fear. He was right, I actually could close my eyes and open them back in the waking world. I could slip away from the snares of the night that Lord Morpheus wove around me. I could leave him here, once more, and condemn myself to endless flight through Nightmares.

And yet...

"I promise not to leave, Dreamlord," I said quietly, my facial muscles tightening with each word. "Not until you give me permission."

The darkness vanished, and with it, so did Lord Morpheus. The throne room felt smaller, quieter as I finally took a deep breath and squeezed my eyes shut, trying to compose myself. Slowly, second by second, the colorful light from the stained-glass windows crept back into my awareness, and the thunderous pulse of blood in my ears began to fade. Only then did I also realize Lucienne was standing not far from me, silent and as unsettled as I was. My hands were still trembling as I wrapped them around my arms, trying to shake off the lingering chill within.

"Rebecca," Lucienne’s voice was gentle as she extended her hand toward me. "You can’t stay here. Come with me."

Lucienne led me to one of the deep, soft chairs in her library and allowed me to sit in silence for several minutes, while she busied herself organizing books. I watched her, first absentmindedly, then with increasing focus as she carefully sorted through the volumes and arranged them in neat rows on the vast wooden shelves. Her movements were steady, full of certainty and calm, as though she knew her library as intimately as a mother knows her child. Watching her soothed me, slowly dissolving the fear that had taken root in my chest.

And though she seemed absorbed in her task, I knew she was waiting for me to be ready to speak.

"Lucienne..." I finally began, and she immediately turned from her books to offer me a warm, kind look. "Thank you for bringing me here."

"Each of us in the Dreaming has been where you are now," she smiled and sat down in the chair opposite mine, her voice gentle and soothing. "Lord Morpheus has been the great ruler of this realm since the dawn of time. But since that very same dawn, he has never taken well to defiance."

"Matthew told me the exact same thing," I muttered, sinking deeper into my seat.

"I’ve served Lord Morpheus longer than you could ever imagine," Lucienne continued with a soft chuckle. "And more than anyone, I know that everything he does is for the safety and well-being of the Dreaming. Don’t judge him too harshly, Rebecca. From your first encounter, he has been trying to protect the life you hold so dear."

"I know," I sighed, though I couldn’t quite shake the edge of stubbornness in my voice.

"You are a bit alike, you and Lord Morpheus," she said, sounding amused. "He’s just as stubborn and just as unwilling to let others decide his fate. But trust me, if he didn’t care about your safety, he wouldn’t ask you to stay in his palace, where nothing can harm you."

"I don’t think it’s my safety that concerns Dreamlord so much," I replied, rolling my eyes, though Lucienne’s smile only grew warmer.

"Then why didn’t he fight back against your power when it attacked him?" she asked, her tone probing but kind. "You don’t trust him, and I can’t entirely blame you for that... but Lord Morpheus rarely cares for human life as much as he does for yours. Those emotions you just witnessed—they weren’t a sign of indifference. They were the opposite of that."

The opposite?

"Lucienne," I leaned slightly towards her, clasping my hands on my knees. "I want to help him understand why he can’t take my power. But here, in the Dreaming, I feel helpless. I made him a promise, and if I were to break it..." He would hate me—that’s what I intended to say, but the words just wouldn’t pass my lips.

"He will eventually turn to you for help, I’m sure of it," Lucienne said, drifting off into thought, as if a distant memory had resurfaced. "He must, if he wishes to reclaim the power you now possess. But for now, you should stay here, let your emotions settle, give yourself and Lord Morpheus some time."

"Time..." As she said it, a question suddenly sprang into my mind, and I was surprised I hadn’t thought of it sooner. "Lucienne, what about my world, the time that’s passing there? If I don’t wake by morning, and my mom sees me lying lifeless in bed..."

"You needn’t worry about that, Rebecca," she replied soothingly. "Months might pass here before a single night in your world comes to an end."

"She has nightmares about me not waking up. It’s been that way ever since the accident, the one that left me unconscious and started these journeys into the Dreaming. It’s always been just the two of us, her and me, so when she thought she might lose me back then..."

And as soon as I said it aloud, another thought instantly filled my head.

"It’s always been just the two of us," I continued, feeling excitement rise within me with each word. "Lucienne, your books lack any mention of my father, but my mother—she actually met him! Perhaps she remembers something, knows something we can’t discover on our own. Maybe staying here, in the Dreaming, would be a mistake after all. Maybe I should return to the waking world... and simply talk to my mom."

[glorious-poetato]

Headcanons for the dsmp creartors having a crush in the reader? :)

-🦌

[Crush]

Ships: tommyinnit x reader, wilbur x reader, dream x reader, jack manifold x reader,and Karl x reader

Warnings: none

Summary: thing that dream smp members would do and act if they had a crush on you.

_-_-_-_-_-_-_-_-_-_-_-_-_-_-_-_-_-_-_-

Tommy

- blushing none stop but tries to hide it

- can't help but smile every time you do

-makes fun of you for everything

- always invites you to his vlogs

- will talk nonstop about you to wilbur

- buys you candy or gives you his merch you said you liked

- if you jokingly flirt with I'm he is so flustered and tries to play it off

Wilbur

- flustered easily like that one time chat mentioned his crush on shubble

- talks about you to chat all the time

- super smiley around you

- always pays for everything no matter what

- will sing songs to you maybe even write you a song

- just loves to be around you

- Tommy makes fun of him constantly for it

- he's a totally simp for you

Dream

- if you said you wanted something he is already searching It up on Amazon

-tries not to talk about you online much because he doesn't want you to get hate

- is super flustered if you flirt with him but will flirt back

- annoys George and snapnap with how much he talks about you

- once you fell asleep at his house snuggled up with patches and now that is his favorite picture in the while wrold

Jack manifold

- flirts alot as a joke but gets super flustered

- trys to keep you away from Tommy saying he'll infect you

- he's a totally simp for you

- whenever he catches you watching a video with him in it he gets so embarrassed

Karl

- okay I know I said everyone else gets flustered but his is to the extreme

- so many hugs

- will share his monsters with you

- more hugs

- talks about you constantly

- gets shy around you

- more physical affection

- like he is completely head over heals for you and everyone but you knows it

_-_-_-_-_-_-_-_-_-_-_-_-_-_-_-_-_-_-_-

Idk if these are headcannons, also sorry if I didn't do a good job writing for some of the people Anyway I hope you liked them

-poe <3

[hunny-beann]

You Can; You Will...

Dream of the Endless x f!Reader

Note: Hi! This is my first time ever writing for Dream, so if anything seems a bit off or if there are any minor lore issues, please do your best not to pay them too much mind (although absolutely feel free to point them out). That said, I had a lot of fun writing this fic, and I really hope that you enjoy it!

Warnings: Uh angst(?), is Dream himself a warning? Because he should be.

Word Count: 2,644

This had to be torture, surely.

Some evil method of malice created by some long forgotten god of pain.

Why else would Dream have been looking at you so?

Here, sitting in his rotting throne room, upon his crumbling dais, his expression as close to pained as you had ever seen it before.

"You have returned."

He stated matter of factly, though his eyes betrayed the solemn tone that his voice held.

It had hurt him to come back to his realm and find that you had gone with the others, more so than you ever could have anticipated or imagined. You could see it in the way that his fingers gripped at the arm rests beneath them, and in the way that his all encompassing presence seemed to shrink slightly, as if the very particles of him and his power that made up the world beneath your feet were attempting to flee from you.

You swallowed thickly, but managed a nod in spite of your nerves and the heavy weight that bore down upon your heart at the sight of the being before you.

"I have. I did not anticipate it, but I found that I was suddenly overcome with the urge to..."

The words 'go home' died upon your lips before you could say them, because in truth, you were not entirely sure if this realm truly was home anymore, not just for you, but to anything besides the endless sitting before you and his most loyal of dreams and nightmares.

His own creations.

Dream let out a soft hum in response to your words, before he carefully rose into a standing position, his coat swishing at his feet in that familiarly dramatic way that you remembered so painfully at present, and had once recalled so fondly in the past.

Now though, after over a century of having it as only a memory, a longing lodged deep within the confines of your soul, you found that it almost hurt to bear witness to his familiarities again.

You had buried the Morpheus you had once known in all ways but the physical sense, mourned and grieved him as if you had watched his demise with your own two eyes, never having a day pass you by where you did not think of him and the way that his voice had sounded, or that his hands had felt.

And now, he was standing before you so casually, and you could not help but view this figure before you as a caricature, some imposter sent to cause you even more pain than you had already endured.

Being an immortal human was a burden in and of itself, because it meant watching nearly all those that you loved die in the span of a lifetime, which to you, had long since started to feel like nothing in the grand scheme of things.

You had begged Death to take this weight from you, to let time have its way with your body, bones, and soul, but Destiny had seen to it that his sister knew better than to meddle with this particular affair.

A long dead family member had blessed you with what they perceived to be a "gift" long ago.

And now, you suffered while they lay buried in the ground in lands you had not seen nor touched in centuries.

So, once upon a time, Dream had meant everything to you.

Ever since the day you had met him, after once again grovelling with Death to let you go, he had become abundantly special in your eyes.

Because unlike almost everyone else around you, Dream could not die, not from the ticking of any clock, nor the feebleness of his own body.

He was the one thing you believed to be permanent.

And certainly, it had taken quite a while to warm up to the man, and far longer still for him warm up to you, but after enough impromptu meetings in Death's domain over multiple centuries, he had eventually indulged you when you asked hesitantly if you could see his realm, 'the dreaming' as he so fondly referred to it, for yourself.

And oh, what a sight it had been.

Lush rolling lands, fields upon fields of flowers, a palace so tall it seemed possible to view it from miles and miles away...

You had never wanted to leave.

And eventually, you would not have to anymore.

Not after you had fled to the dreaming after losing your very best friend to disease, her death so dirty and without dignity that you could scarcely bare to even consider it.

He had sensed your arrival, of course he had, for the realm was made of the very power that he possessed, but he had not sensed your woes, nor had he anticipated your sudden presence in his crowded throne room, searching for any familiar face that might serve as a reminder that you were not without some semblance of certainty, to prove if nothing else that you were not yet alone.

You had all but collapsed at the foot of his throne, eyes bloodshot and cheeks wet with tears as you regarded him with a pain he was all too familiar with, but had no clue how to comfort you about.

Loss.

'I can't do it anymore.'

You had told him with absolute certainty, hands clenched into fists as you struggled to hold back sobs,

'I can't endure this torture, I feel as if I have died a thousand deaths without ever having experienced even one.'

Morpheus reached forward, tucking a piece of hair behind your ear, before he sat back once more, taking note of the way that, simply due to his touch alone, you were now giving him your entirely undivided attention, breaths shaky but eyes wide and trained on him, as if you had never been touched before, or maybe as if you had never expected him to touch you in the eternity that you would experience.

'You can.'

He said, voice steady and eyes cold, though almost determined looking as he spoke.

'You will.'

You felt your eyebrows crease at his words, but Dream simply shook his head slightly before you could even open your mouth to reply.

He watched you for a few moments, before finally, he decided that enough silence had passed.

'If it is easier, you may remain in the dreaming as long as you please. All I ask, is that you do not make me regret my kindness.'

Shocked, you had nodded, before finally mustering up the strength to respond.

'But why?'

You had asked, watching as the being sitting before you sighed, his gaze traveling up toward the ceiling as he spoke,

'You will not have to watch nearly as many crumble to dust here in my domain, and I can see the toll that your immortality is taking on your feeble human mind. My sister has taken a liking to you, and I do not doubt that she would want me to take pity upon your unfortunate circumstances. To preserve someone she calls a friend, I will allow you to reside here until you give me a reason not to.'

And you never had.

For so very long now, hundreds upon hundreds of years, you had remained almost entirely within the dreaming.

You had friends here, nightmares and dreams alike, although truthfully, none captured your attention in the way that Morpheus did.

And none captured his nearly as much as you somehow managed to.

You were close, bound by some firm understanding of one another that never ceased to solidify the fact that the dreaming was your home, the place where you belonged, and Dream the very host that so effortlessly kept you rooted.

Before, there had been almost nothing for you in the way of consistency or rhythm, and now, there was an ebb and flow, a push and pull, a beat to follow, and the biggest surprise of all was that you made up half of each of these things.

Where Dream would ebb, you would flow, where he would push, you would pull, and you so very easily followed along with and eventually even progressed and changed his rhythm in a way that almost made the dreaming feel as if it had two rulers.

The dream lord,

And his once missing other half, the muse of the very land beneath your feet, and of the wind within your hair.

Until one day, that all came to an end.

The king of dreamers left and did not return.

And you could not even dare try and pick up the pieces of his realm that he left behind.

It had been a shameful abandonment, one full of pain and grief, but only a few short years after Dream's disappearance, you grabbed the scarce few items that did not remind you of him or the family that you were leaving behind, and you vanished just as he had done.

At that point, the slow but sure crumbling of the dreaming had only just begun, but your cowardice had won out over your strength, and you'd quickly found that you could not bare to see it shrink into nothingness.

'You can.'

Dream had once told you.

'You will.'

He had assured.

But you could not this time.

You likely would not ever again.

You were not the first to leave the dreaming, not by a long shot.

But your absence and the meaning that it carried rang out loud and clear for all of those who had chosen to remain.

The once so honored and beloved guest of their lord of dreams had chosen her painful mortal world over anything that the realm had left to offer...

And for many, that was all the proof that they needed that their creator would not return.

You were far from the first to leave.

But you were even further from the last.

"Did you lose faith in me?"

Dream asked suddenly, and you felt yourself gasp slightly at the question.

Lose faith in him?

Was that what you had done?

With almost no consideration for the question, you shook your head.

"No."

You said firmly, watching as the endless in front of you tilted his head ever so slightly, his eyes boring into your own even from across the room and down the ruined steps,

"Never."

Morpheus took a few steps toward you, and almost instinctively, you moved to lessen the space that lay between before forcing yourself to stop, hands clenched into fists at your sides, the pain of seeing your friend, who you had believed to be dead just hours ago, too great even for longing to overcome.

Dream seemed to notice this, and stopped in his tracks, though he was now far closer than before, only a few short steps away.

"Then why did you leave so easily? Why did you abandon the life that I offered you here if you had the faith required to know that I would someday return to the dreaming? Return to you?"

Your breath shuddered at the implication that he had come back in any part for you, but you chose to ignore his words in favor of fighting off his accusations of faithlessness on your part.

"I left because I could not bear to see this world that you created fall apart around me while I did nothing. It felt as if I were watching another loved one die, and I could not deal after believing that someone had taken your life as well. I was hurting, and I found that it was easier to hurt in the waking world, where pain was familiar, than it was to hurt here, where it never seemed to bite so hard. That is why I left. But I never once lost faith in you."

Dream raised a brow at that last part, and you were quick, to clarify,

"I may have thought you dead, but I did not once believe that if you were alive, you would not come back. My belief that you were dead, my certainty in that regard, came from the immense faith that I have in you, Lord Morpheus, because I could not fathom that you ever could have abandoned us or the dreaming... After years, I ceased being capable of thinking that you were somewhere out there anymore. I did not think it possible for anything to bind you so tightly away from your duties, if not for death herself."

Dream stared back at you in response to your words, as if taking them in for several long moments, before finally he nodded,

"I see. Though I do wish you would have considered the fact that I never would have allowed myself to die knowing what I would be leaving behind."

You sighed exasperatedly,

"But we know that you would not be the first to abandon your post, my lord, not the first to leave something as fickle as your universe given duties behind. Who could have blamed you if you died in spite of these things if others were able to willingly leave them?"

Your voice was small and quiet as you spoke, unsure of how Dream might react to the mention of Destruction, even when the wound was not necessarily new anymore.

You watched as the being before you stiffened, his gaze growing ever so slightly colder, before he spun around and began making his way back toward his throne, his tone firm and serious as he replied, still facing away from you all the while.

"I was not speaking of my duties to the dreaming."

He stated simply, though you could tell by his cadence that his words were anything but.

You sighed, exasperated and fragile after all that had been said thus far,

"Well what else was it that you were leaving behind that was so important that I should have known it would keep you alive then, Dream?"

The lord of the dreaming locked eyes with you as you finished asking this question, cold piercing gaze filling you with a deep regret and an immense longing as he sat upon his throne once more, one long leg crossing over the other as he all but stared into your very soul.

"You."

He said simply, voice low and gaze unwavering as he spoke, watching as that one word alone sent you staggering several steps backward, one hand clutching lightly at your chest as your feeble human mind tried to comprehend all that had happened to you in this one day alone.

"Me?"

You whispered, voice echoing slightly throughout the empty throne room in spite of how quiet it was.

"But I am not-"

"You are everything."

Dream cut you off before you could finish, eyes still boring holes into your own as he continued to watch you from his seat, as if knowing that if he moved any closer now, that you would run, run and likely never return for fear of what any of this meant for you and for the once permanent seeming fixture that Dream had so easily played within your life for so long.

You floundered at those words, vision growing bleary and spotty as you turned to rush out of the room, to be anywhere but this pale comparison of the dreaming, the once beautiful world that you had known for so very long.

You fled your home with tears in your eyes and a hand at your heart.

Dream stayed where he sat upon his throne, and watched your fears consume you again until you faded from view.

He did not try to stop you.

A broken home like this was no place for a fragile soul like yours.

And he could offer you no better than the very world he had once so kindly rescued you from.

[preciouslandmermaid]

quiet fury in your head [vi]

Dream of the Endless x F!Reader!Goddess / Sandman Fanfiction

Note: Dream is a bit of a voyeur in this one!! The Goddess discovers the fate of the betrayer & Dream is in denial about his feelings, tbh. No use of Y/N. See part 1 for all the tags tbh.

Warnings: accidental voyeurism (kinda?), solo masturbation 

Rating: 18+

(Read on AO3)    ||   (masterpost for other chapters)  

As a rule born from pure pettiness – you reject any “gifts” the Dream King offers during your years of servitude. You avoid the castle. You avoid the room he gave you and its extensive wardrobe. You do not sleep within the marble walls. You barely speak to the Dreaming’s citizens. They know you—of course they do—and they still whisper your old name “Queen of Nightmares.” But even as they whisper your title: they build no effigies in your honor, they sing no songs, or slaughter animals.

Ultimately, they aren’t your worshipers, they aren’t your friends, and they are a poor substitute for the family you lost.

And yet...you find yourself strolling through the impressive, towering shelves of the library. The air is filled with dead tress and your eyes prickle with heat. Oral traditions had been the norm during your time as a Goddess. What use did cutting down trees and smashing them to pulp have? You pull a book from the shelf and leaf through the pages. The scribbles are nonsense to you.

“Lady,” A scholarly black woman greets you with a respectful nod of her bald head, “I wondered if you might pass through here.”

You snap the book shut and slide it back into the shelf.

“I don’t know why I’m here,” You admit abrupt and honest. What was I seeking? Answers? Hope that my sister’s names are written somewhere in this library? How would that serve me? How could it serve me when I can make no sense of these drawings on the page?

Lucienne adjusts her round glasses, “Does there need to be a reason?” She smiles softly. “You can come here anytime you like. It’s quiet here—which I like—and there’s so much…” Her neck cranes upward while she admires the imposing shelves.  

“Perhaps you might be interested in…” Lucienne’s voice trails off. You are gone. She had not even heard you leave.

*********

Another day, a different one, when the skies are as pink as a newborn chick. The cold breeze tickles your exposed skin as you walk through fluffy, blush-hued clouds. You look up and the world flips, as simple as that, and you find yourself standing before a hut made of thunderclouds.

“Don’t get visitors up this way.” A voice says from within before they materialize through the gray, bulbous clouds and stand in front of you. Her thin body is cerulean and her veins flash in brief, sharp bursts of lightening. Her short, white dress moves with the wind.

You purse your lips, “Have I intruded?”

“Not at all, My Queen.” She bows her head respectfully and places one hand over her heart. You are painfully reminded of a similar pose you once gave to your sister, Badb, when you bravely and foolishly proclaimed that you would fight Fate and save your people.

“I appreciate the visit. You may call me Dima.” She says.

“I am not your queen.” You reply stiffly.

Dima shrugs. Her movements echo with rumbling thunder. “I knew you… and have known you for many years...” She waves her arm and the clouds shift, responding to her call, and form two chairs. Dima sits and gestures for you to do the same.

You narrow your eyes. The war of curiosity and caution battles within. No harm has come to me within the Dreaming. You sit in the soft chair Dima has provided.

“I brought the storm that day.” Dima explains softly, her pure-white eyes flash with the energy of a hundred storms. You don’t need her to clarify. You feel the mud beneath your knees. You feel Lugh’s spear. You hear Badb’s ravens—crying out. The rain, the thunder, the rage. You remember all of it.

You harden your heart and tear your eyes away from Dima.

“I am sorry for what became of them.”

“Are you?” You snap, your heart sore.

“I am.” Her voice is gentle and reminds you of the soft patter-patter of rainfall against a thatch roof.  “I would bring you a thousand storms, my queen, if I believed it would help.”

You laugh dryly, meeting her electric eyes, “Would you drown the world if I asked it?” You pour all your heartache and rage into that single question. Let the world drown, let the new Gods sink and the Old Gods be reborn. Curse these mortals for forgetting you. Curse them all.

Dima doesn’t flinch. “I would.”

You recline and fold your arms across your chest. “Why are you offering such loyalty to me?” You trusted Lugh and he betrayed you. You trusted your worshipers, yet they stopped calling your name, and let you and your sisters turn to dust. They were overtaken by another faith, but you could not scrub that feeling of betrayal from your skin. You would not make the same mistake twice.

Dima smiles, her teeth as white as the dress she wears, “Because I can feel the storm brewing inside you...for like calls to like. Storm to rage, rage to storm.”

Despite your best efforts, your lips twitch upward. Dima’s forthright and confident attitude is something you appreciate. And it has been centuries since you could call upon someone (Morpheus does not count. He is your keeper and is intent on letting you serve your sentence for however he sees fit. You doubt he would come if you called).

Dima isn’t your friend, but she is not wholly a stranger either. The air thickens with the scent of the ozone and an impending storm. The clouds around you darken into a thick, heavy gray like ash and smoke. You lightly touch the center of your chest—the place where your own storm lives—and a boom of thunder carries out across the field.

*********

A whisper carries through the Dreaming: Morpheus left for an Odyssey. No one can say for how long he will be gone. Or when he will return. You take the opportunity to enter the castle for the second time in years. There is no risk of Dream seeing you, though one of his ravens will likely tattle. You slip through the corridors barefoot on quick, silent feet. You open the door to the room. Your room. Your jail cell. Your tomb—if Dream hadn’t saved you from Lugh’s poison.

Starlight drips from the ceiling and illuminates the room. Your bed is large, lavish, with purple silk pillow cases and black sheets. It is bare of any decorations or trinkets. You inhale deeply. The scents of jasmine and lavender fill your nostrils. Your heart flutters and heat prickles across the nape of your neck. The moonlit forest. The feather-light touch of Dream’s lips on yours. You push the thought from your mind and ignore the tightening of your abdomen.

You pull open the doors to the closet. The dresses and cloaks drape from their hangers. They are pristine. Elegant. Fit for a queen, you think with a sardonic twist of your mouth. The closet deepens. The clothes vary in style and material and color. You find a plain looking black traveling cloak. This will do for the next time I visit Dima. You drape the cloak over your shoulders and fasten the silver, raven’s head clasp. The interior lining of the cloak is buttery soft and smooth where it touches your skin. A small shiver of delight courses through you followed by a lick of hot, burning shame. I told myself I would never accept anything Dream offered to me and yet, I have made myself a liar.

You catch your reflection in the mirror hanging from the closet door. You do not recognize the woman standing in front of you. There is no triumph in her gaze, no glorious smile, and Macha and Badb do not stand beside her as they always have. You trail your fingertips through the empty air. Their absence aches through you like an old wound. A broken bone that has set incorrectly. A black tumor that won’t kill you as it presses into your organs.

You lean your forehead into the glass and close your eyes.

*********

Lucienne looks up at you, her glasses perched on her nose, and her face softens with her smile.

“I was afraid you might not return.”

“Your fears were not misplaced. I almost changed my mind a dozen times before entering.” You slide your hands into the pockets of your cloak, “I have need of your assistance, Lucienne.”

She carefully closes the book she was repairing, “Of course. What do you need, my lady?”

*********

Lucienne sits across from you at a small, wooden table within the library. Although you haven’t kept track of time—there’s no point within the Dreaming when time is fluid and meaningless—but you suspect that it’s been several hours since Lucienne began teaching you how to read and write.

“This,” she tapped her finger against the page, “is the letter phi.”

You trace the letter. Your fingertips are stained with ink. You don’t know why your powers don’t extend into omnipotent literacy. But, if you want to learn what became of Lugh and the others, then you need to be able to read and understand the scribbles on the pages. Your pride will not allow you to ask Lucienne to find the appropriate book and read it to you. And besides, working with Lucienne helps to fill the time. She makes for tender, quiet company. It is a nice contrast to your visits with Dima, the bold and loud Storm-Weaver.

Lucienne says, “I have a question if I may.”

“Hm?” You struggle to trace the next letter, “I’m listening.”

“Will you return to the library?”

Your brow furrows. A curious question. You glance up from your work. The orange candlelight flickers across Lucienne’s smooth, dark skin and reflects in the circular lenses of her glasses. You set your brush down and straighten your shoulders.  

“Clarify.”

“Dream will return eventually.” She says, “And I’ve noticed that you tend to avoid the castle.” Lucienne tilts her head to the side. “And now you’ve come when he’s away on odyssey.”

“Generally, the Dream Lord and I avoid each other.”

“Unless he needs you.” Lucienne guesses.

“It’s a big castle,” You pick up the thin paintbrush again, “I will return, Lucienne.”

“Oh,” She replies softly and her tone is pleased, “Good.”

*********

You tuck yourself into one of the cozier corners of the library with your cloak wrapped around your frame and a book open in your lap. You trace your fingers across the green and gold cover. It took some seeking but Lucienne assured you this was the right one. The Dolmens of Ireland by William Borlase, 1897. This is where your answers would be found. A record of Lugh’s fate. The God who betrayed you and accepted sainthood.

Your pulse thumps through your fingertips and inside the hollow dip of your jaw. You flip through the pages until you come upon grave of Saint Molaga.

“Although this stone is known from the Christian era as the cover slab of the grave of St. Molaga, it probably predates the saint by many centuries.” You scan through the rest of the page, “Mo is a prefix and Logha relates to the name of the Pagan divinity Lugh. Therefore, this site is the ‘Bed of the holy Lugh,'”

Your throat tightens. Lugh was given a new life after all. He became a saint. They changed his name and built new places in his honor. There are legends to his name. They gave him a grave.

He lived while you and your sisters were forgotten. The painful prickle crawls up your throat and hot tears glide down your cheeks. You close the book and clench your fingers around it until your knuckles go white. You stare, unseeing, at the shelf in front of you as grief wrecks through your body in painful, sharp stabs.  

Part of me...believed that Lugh did not survive the battle. That he did not get his Sainthood. That those heretics, those interlopers, betrayed him as he betrayed us. But no. The truth feels like glass between your teeth. Lugh was victorious. No vengeful Goddess came and struck him down. He lived.

You cover your face with your trembling hands and taste salt.

*********

Dream stops short at the sight of you in the library. His hands twitch at his sides. The joy he feels upon seeing you wearing his cloak is short-lived. Your shoulders shake and a brief, pained whimper reaches his ears. Your sadness penetrates through the space of the Dreaming like a serrated blade. His chest aches. He wishes he could approach you, offer some comfort or solace, but he does not move. He remains in the shadows and shrinks further back and watches you through the slats of the bookshelves.

She belongs to Desire until her time here is done. He reminds himself. This could be one of Desire’s tricks. Their manipulations to make me...feel something...for her. Dream clenches his jaw. You inhale shakily and the book in your lap clatters to the floor.

“Bastard!” You curse, kicking its spine, before you get to your feet. Your sadness sharpens into anger. He tastes it like copper on his tongue. Your cloak swishes around you as you spin on your heel and storm from the library. He watches you leave and the ache in his chest grows.

His affections for you are poison, like a corrosive acid that gnaws at him. He cannot permit himself the luxury of caring for you. He cannot. He has his responsibilities as Lord of the Dreaming and he cannot trust you. You belong to Desire. You were their creation. He can’t trust his feelings as they war inside his chest. What would I say if I went to her? My own siblings are Endless. We lost Destruction, but that was...different.

Your grief-struck face burns into his mind. He touches the ring holding your power. It feels cold. Jessamy caws and flies down onto his shoulder. He gently scratches beneath Jessamy’s beak. He knows he could release you from his service at any time. But, the looming agony of your absence prevents him from finally letting you go. He’d rather you have you, even at pained awful distance, than lose you forever. You move through his Dreaming like a beacon of beautiful, radiant light and shadow. When he returned from his Odyssey, his heart had leapt at the knowledge that you were within the castle.

He walks to where you sat prior and picks the book up. He skims his fingers over the embossed title. She knows the truth. She knows Lugh was granted his Sainthood. Immortalized. Remembered. He sighs. The first few raindrops land softly against the windows of the library.

The words ‘I’m sorry’ are paltry and chalky on his tongue. Does his apology return your sisters? No. Does it soothe your grief? No. A dozen times he’s considered creating dreams in the image of Badb and Macha for your company. But he resists the urge. A dream, no matter how magnificent, could not replace the bond you shared with the two Gods.

And he thinks you might scorn him if he tried to give you a dream-version of your sisters. He would rather witness your sadness than endure your scorn. Dream returns the book to its place within the shelves.

“It’s good to have you back, my lord.” Lucienne says from behind him.

Dream gives her a noncommittal nod. Lucienne’s presence reminds him that there is work to be done. His odyssey took longer than he expected and it was time to refocus. He cannot think of you any longer—otherwise it would be a distraction.

*********

“I think you should come, it’ll be fun!” Dima proclaims. She kicks her blue feet through the water. The sunlight pours through the sky and glistens and shines off the flowing river. You peel your tattered dress over your head. The sting of Lugh’s survival bites at your heart. You are learning to live with the pain of it—though you refuse to shed anymore tears.

“I haven’t been to a revelry in a long, long time.”

Dima snorts, “They call them parties, Mor.”

You shrug and dip your toes into the cold, rushing water. Although Dream returned from his Odyssey some time ago, he has not called you. Nowadays, you spend time with Dima and learn with Lucienne (Lucienne started teaching you a language known as ‘Mandarin’).

While Morpheus is absent from your life. You wish his absence would make your heart yearn less, but it seems the opposite is true. You’ve found yourself glancing around the library during your lessons, seeking him, and instead feeling frustration and disappointment.

You wade through until the pebbled stones beneath your feet dip and the water is deep enough for you to swim. The current is cold and refreshing. A school of tiny silver fish dart past your legs. Dima continues talking about the upcoming party. She is a deluge of dialogue. Her words fast and leave no room for argument or dissent.  She reminds you of a younger version of yourself; bold, straightforward, quick and witty.

You cut through the water like a trout. The chill has enveloped you, prickling goosebumps across your flesh, puckering your nipples to hard, pebbled nubs. A flock of blackbirds land on a tree nearby and you float on your back, watching them, and wonder if Dream will attend this ‘party’ as well. Likely not. He does not seem the partying type.

*********

He uses the many eyes of the Dreaming to follow you. He watches you study with Lucienne, your brow furrowed, your teeth toying with your sweet lower lip. He watches you with Dima, the Storm-Weaver, and notices how her company has soothed some of your pain, some of your grief. You still do not smile or laugh, but your expressions are softer. You regard Dima with a...fondness...in your eyes. He clenches his jaw. It doesn’t matter if she takes Dima for a lover. She can do as she wishes. He could forbid it, of course. He could make it part of your punishment—that you cannot court or find release with any residents of the Dreaming. But, Dream resists the urge. Because there is a chance that...if you do take Dima for a lover...then you will return to the Dreaming after completing your final task for Desire. And I see her again within my own Realm.

One of his ravens has taken comfort among a family of smaller magpies. They squawk and flutter among the thin, wavering branches of a beautiful and lush tree. Dream freezes in the coordinator. His awareness is on his raven, seeing through her eyes, and he notices your naked, perfect body move through the river with Dima alongside you walking along the bank.

Dream swiftly teleports into his bedroom. His body trembles with desire as tight as a wire wrapping around his throat. He cannot bring his sight away. Selfishly, he connects himself to the water you’re swimming through. The sensation is like an electric jolt to his spine.

The heat spreads across the nape of his neck as his hand palms the front of his tight trousers. He feels you move through the water. Your thighs, your legs, your arms, and breasts. It feels as if you’re pressing your naked body against him. Every curve, every muscle, it glides against him like liquid desire. He shudders and presses his tongue to the roof of his mouth.

He unzips his trousers and pulls free his hard cock. I shouldn’t...but the thought quickly vanishes as he sees and feels you twirl through the water, the serpentine curve of your spine and swell of your ass visible to him.

He imagines your mouth on him—first your tongue—because he suspects that you appreciate the tease.

He hisses through his teeth and holds the base of his cock and slowly begins to pump his hand over it. He imagines your pebbled nipples brush against his lips. He imagines what sweet noises you might make for him when he suckles on your breast and nibbles your collarbone. His thumb swipes against the beading pre-cum at his tip and Dream catches the groan in his throat. His hand is a poor substitute for the warm, wet heat of your perfect mouth—but it’ll have to do.

He cannot have you, so he will settle for the fantasy. He imagines your tongue swiping over his tip before you draw him into your mouth, your cheeks hollowing, your starry eyes peering up at him through your thick lashes. He cups the back of your neck. You moan around him. Dream hisses, bucking his hips into his hand, his balls tightening. Your tongue flicks along the underside of his cock, massaging it, as you work your mouth over his hard length. He moans. He is no better than a moral man throwing himself at the feet of his beloved.

Your eyelashes flutter. His hand pumps faster—squeezing faintly. He switches the fantasy. He imagines bending you over his writing desk, your perky ass in the air, your went cunt on display. He wants to lick, to taste, but he denies himself the pleasure (even here, even within his own fantasy).

He spreads your legs and enters you ever-so-slowly, feeling you stretch and envelope him, before his hands are on your hips and his bedroom is filled with the sounds of your low, raspy moans. Dream bites his lip. His pulse pounds through his veins. The pace of his hand quickens and his eyes screw closed. Your cunt squeezes him. It’s perfect. A perfect fit. Your slick coats him, the lubrication deepening every stroke, and oh—yes—he goes deep. He holds your hips and drives into you in long, meticulous strokes. You cry out his name. Again and again. Morpheus. Morpheus. Dream’s cock twitches in his hand.

He feels each droplet of water as it glistens down your skin. He watches the sparkly droplets cling to your eyelashes and your delicate earlobe. In his fantasy, Dream bends over and nibbles your earlobe while his hand comes to find your clit between your legs. He squeezes his cock. He imagines you cumming around his cock, cunt tight, voice raw with screaming, rocking your hips back into him with every thrust. The Banshee Queen would be loud in love-making. Dream arches his pale neck, his jaw tight, his breath stuttering as his orgasm hits him.

His chest heaves with labored, his fingers are sticky and glistening, and he quickly returns his awareness to his raven—to watch you again—and you are climbing out onto the river bed. Dima hands you your flimsy dress. He watches it stick in places to your wet skin. He vanishes the mess he’s made, though the knowledge of what he did lingers. What’s done is done. She will no longer be a distraction for me. She is free from my mind. This will not happen again.

*********

You attend the revelry with Dima. It takes place within a crumbling stone and moss colossus. The bones of a giant is what Dima named it. The familiar sight of a bonfire and tables laden with food bring a small, bright comfort to your heart. These events have not changed in thousands of years. The drums reverberate through your bones. The honey wine melts on your tongue. Dima spins you, her skin flickers with lightening and briefly illuminating the space in sharp, blue-white flashes. Her smile white and brilliant. The world blurs into a kaleidoscope of colors, warm and cold, as fire smoke prickles your eyes.  

Someone is standing in the shadows. Someone tall and lean with wild dark hair and fathomless eyes. Dream? Dima spins you again. You return your eyes to the place you saw him. He is gone. Perhaps he was never there to begin with.

*********

Additional Note:  I resisted the urge to add Dima/Reader smooch at the end, but mostly because their relationship is like...platonic but borders on worship?? with Dima as the worshipper. So obviously the power dynamics there would be a little skewed. I might end up writing it for fun as a bonus chapter or something. the world can be healed with yuri love 

[writethrough]

Hello! I just finished reading your Morpheus fics and I absolutely love them! So I thought about requesting something, too. Morpheus x reader where reader is feeling well and calls for him. They spend all evening togheter after a long time. reading togheter, watching some movies, talking and sharing their thoughts... until Morpheus notice it’s really late, almost midnight, and it’s time for reader to sleep, but she doesn't want to ‘cause Morpheus is always busy and she misses spending time with him, even whe she's asleep lately he was never there. Morpheus feels guilty and promises her he’ll be more present, especially in her dreams. A nice ending where he stays with her until she falls asleep, and him appearing in her dreams as he promised? Thank you 💖

A Homemade Remedy

(Morpheus x Female Reader)

Synopsis: After days of dealing with your sickness by yourself, you give in and call your boyfriend, hoping he'll come.

Warnings: Minor language

Word Count: 815

A/N: Stop two on the apology tour. I'm so sorry this has taken so long! And I want to thank you profusely for your patience. And for sending the request in. I really hope you enjoy this fluffy little fic!

Normally, you wouldn’t bother Morpheus with this. He had more important things to deal with instead. But you felt as if Death would appear at any moment, and all you wanted was some comfort from your boyfriend. 

You pressed the ruby pendant he gifted you to your heart, croaking his name. 

“Beloved?” 

You blinked, seemingly slower than usual. 

“Hi,” you whispered, covers pulled to your chin. 

He took you in for a few moments, brows pinched slightly. You could only tell he was worried because of how long you’d known him. 

“You are unwell.” 

“S’just a—” A coughing fit started, only ceasing when he handed you your glass of water. “Just a cold.” 

Between the tissues piled in the trash beside your bed, the bottle of medication without its lid, and the two additional blankets on top of you, he knew that wasn’t the case. You’d been here much longer than a few hours. 

“Why did you not call for me when your ailment began?” 

And there it was, the look you were dreading the more you prolonged summoning him. You’re not even sure he’s aware of his “kicked puppy” look. 

You shrugged, pulling the covers just below your nose.  

Morpheus made no sound—as graceful and Endless as ever. The only indication he had moved was the lifting of your blankets as he slid in behind you. 

“Turn around, my love.” 

You were far too weak and needy to refuse. 

Settling with your head on his thigh, he rested a hand on your hair. 

“I am here now, and I will take care of you,” he said. “Whatever you may need, I will gather.” 

“Just this.” Your voice barely carried on a whisper. 

“Then here I shall remain.” 

Morpheus always spoke softer than you would expect while still containing all the authority in the universe, but it sounded even softer. It held gentleness—kindness—a quality that said, “You are precious to me.” 

“What about the Dreaming?” you asked, eyes closed. 

“In Lucienne’s capable hands,” he replied without hesitation. You were so considerate of him and his duties, for once, he wished you’d be selfish.  

“What if she needs you?” Even as you said this, your arm settled over his lap. 

“She has looked after my realm much longer than you will be ill.” 

You squeezed him as best you could at the reminder. You didn’t like to think about what had happened to him. Though you met long after that, it hurt to know someone could do that to another being—human or not. 

Morpheus had reassured you he had healed. Much of that having to do with you. 

“Could you read to me, then?” you asked. 

A book appeared in seconds, his voice matching perfectly to the cadence of the lines. It didn’t matter what he was saying, hearing him speak in that hypnotic rumble was enough. Even the flipping of the page didn’t distract you. He was captivating from the first word. 

He’d read two chapters when your stomach growled. 

“When did you last eat?” His smile was soft, thumb grazing your arm. 

You shrugged, not wanting to be scolded. 

“Can you eat?” 

You weren’t sure if it was how shitty you were feeling, how tired you were, or how helpless you felt, but his words went straight to your heart. 

He considered how you might feel. He wasn’t pushing you to eat, but asking if you thought you could stomach anything. He wanted to help, but not at the risk of causing you more discomfort. 

You nodded, keeping your eyes closed so he wouldn’t see them watering. 

“Here.” He helped you sit up before picking up the bowl of broth that had manifested on the nightstand. 

You went to grab it, but he tutted, picking the spoon up himself and bringing it to your mouth. 

“I can feed myself,” you said after swallowing. 

“I know,” he said. “Please. Let me help you.” 

You ate the next spoonful without complaint, and soon, the bowl was empty. 

“Thank you,” you mummered, head nestled into the crook of his shoulder. 

“It’s late, you must rest,” he whispered into your hair. 

You shook your head, and tried to snuggle yourself closer to him, like if you planted yourself firmly enough, he wouldn’t be able to leave. 

“Haven’t seen you in forever,” you mumbled. “Don’t wanna waste it.” 

Guilt flooded Morpheus. He knew he had been neglectful of you, but you had been so patient with him. You were the embodiment of understanding—and he had taken advantage of that. 

“Go to sleep, dear one. I will meet you in the Dreaming.” His lips pressed to your crown. 

You hummed, head growing heavy. 

And when your eyes opened, there he was, holding you as you laid in his chambers. 

He smiled fondly, brushing your chin with his knuckles. 

“What shall we do now, my love?” 

Taglist: @sayumiht, @hatterripper31, @snowsatsu, @1950schick, @navs-bhat, @bookshelf-dust, @sapphireonline, @fictional-hooman, @steph-speaks, @ladyredstar1991, @secretdreamlandmentality, @ababycake, @morpheuss1mp, @boofy1998, @alice-the-nerd, @herfantasyworldd, @poemfreak306, @tronnily, @commanderfreethatdust

If you’d like to be added to any taglists, please comment or message me with the character you’d like updates on. 

[saraicus]

Rose Red | Morpheus x F! Reader

Warning: None 

Notes: Happy Valentine’s Day! If you don’t have a valentine, I’ll be yours ❤️ Set in the same universe as, “Red Bow” but you can read it as a standalone!  Inspired by the song, “Rose Red” by Emilie Autumn. 

If you'd like to be a part of “The Sandman” tag list, just ask me! Requests are open.

Word count: 2.6k

Masterlist

After what happened on Christmas, you made it your mission to teach Morpheus human customs. Since Morpheus was aware of your fascination with human customs from the waking realm, he tried his best to keep up with your teachings. Morpheus felt like he was making great progress with learning human culture, and it was bringing the both of you closer. Unfortunately, you stopped teaching him human customs, after he lit a firework inside the kingdom and nearly blew Matthew into pieces for New Year’s Day. Ever since that day, you became distant from him, and when he would search for you, you would immediately walk away, stating you had a job to attend to. Due to your cold shoulder, Morpheus would spend time in the throne room, reflecting on himself and your time spent with him. “Boss, I think you can still make it up to her,” Matthew said while standing in front of Morpheus in the throne room. Morpheus was in the throne room, sitting on the stairs and sulking as usual. Matthew was knowledgeable of human culture and knew Valentine’s Day was today. He thought maybe Morpheus could give you chocolates and flowers for forgiveness and perhaps a date. Morpheus just side-eyed Matthew and continued to sigh. “Matthew, I nearly slaughtered you. I doubt I could make it up,” Morpheus said in a flat tone.

“Well, I already died once,” Matthew replied while tilting his head and flapping his wings, “What happens if I die twice? Will I continue to return as a crow or will I become a ghost?” Morpheus glanced at Matthew, who began to mutter to himself about the possibility of him becoming a ghost after he dies again while walking back and forth. Shaking his head, Morpheus stood up and began to walk up the stairs to look outside the window. The sunlight shone against his pale skin as he looked through to continue to think. Matthew flew to stand next to Morpheus and cawed. “I’m being serious, there’s a holiday today called Valentine’s Day.” Matthew explained, looking at Morpheus, “It’s a holiday where lovers spend the day together, you can give chocolates and flowers. It’s a romantic holiday!” Morpheus kneeled, facing Matthew, and raised his eyebrow. “Valentine’s Day? What does this Valentine's mean?” Morpheus asked. Matthew ruffled his feathers and began to think, trying to remember what you told him a couple of days ago. “Oh, it’s a holiday named after Saint Valentine who represents love.” Matthew answered and cawed, “I know you love her, boss.” Morpheus twitched a faint smile on his lips and shook his head.

“I love her very much, yet I ruined it.” Morpheus said in a sad tone, “Do you think she would accept my chocolates and flowers?” Matthew stared at him and nodded his head. “Of course! Everyone loves chocolates and I know just the flower that will make her swoon.” Matthew assured, he wagged his tail and began to fly out of the room, cawing for Morpheus to follow him. Morpheus immediately followed Matthew, and together they went out to the gardens. Matthew flew around the garden looking for roses while Morpheus walked around, slowly peeking his head around the bushes to see if you were around. To no avail, you weren’t in the gardens. Truly living up to your purpose as the dream that represents generosity, you would normally help Mervyn with the garden, but unfortunately not today. Morpheus sighed again in defeat until Matthew cawed on the other side of the garden. He quickly walked over to the other side of the garden to see Matthew standing next to a rose bush. “A rose bush?” Morpheus questioned while touching the rose petals, “Why a rose bush?” Matthew flew to land on the bird bath fountain next to the rose bushes and explained, “Red roses represent love, and I know (Y/N) loves red roses. I hear her sing the song, Rose Red all the time when working.” Morpheus looked to his right to see Mervyn holding a pair of flower shears, walking over to them. Mervyn smiles at Morpheus and then looks at the rose bushes. “Pick any of the roses,” Mervyn said while pushing some roses from the bush, “I’ll clip them.” Morpheus said a small thank you and began to look around the rose bushes to find the perfect bouquet for you. His hand would move the roses around, and point at the deep red roses for Mervyn to clip. After picking some of the roses out, Morpheus saw his hand was filled with small cuts, but ignored it. Mervyn walked away with the roses and said, “I’ll leave them in your chambers after I finish preparing them.”

Matthew cawed and said, “Our plan is almost complete, boss. We just need to get chocolates and convince her to meet us at Fiddler’s Green!” Morpheus and Matthew walked out of the garden to walk to the kingdom’s plaza. The plaza was filled with citizens walking around to finish their errands, talking, and negotiating prices. Some people were around the fountain playing live music with a couple of them dancing in a circle. Morpheus looked around to see if you were nearby, and with sheer luck you were. His eyes widened and his lips parted as he saw you dancing on top of the fountain rims singing to the song, Matthew mentioned earlier. You were beaming as if the sun was attached to you, and sang, “ Rose, rose red. Will I ever see thee wed? I will marry at thy will, sire. At thy will!” The citizens playing the instruments complimented your voice, as the others were dancing. Your hips were swaying to the live music and your eyes were closed to consume everything. “Tell me no more stories, and I'll tell you no lies.” You sang clearly and twirled around the fountain, “No one wants to hurt me, but everybody tries. And if you think that I've been waiting for my planets to align. It's time you go on!” Morpheus’ heart fell to the floor when he heard you sing the lyrics; it was as if the song was for him. A song for him to leave you alone, and he felt defeated. Matthew noticed Morpheus’ change of face and said, “It’s just a song she likes. She heard it when she was working on an artist’s dream. Come on boss, the store is near here.” Morpheus took one last look at you and walked away.

As the song was coming to a finish, you opened your eyes to see Morpheus walking by you. It took every ounce of your will to not rush to him and hug him, but you brushed it off to continue singing. But you knew you had to give him space, for your own sake. Ever since the incident on New Year’s Day, you became more work-focused because you realized it was a mistake on your part for Matthew’s near-death experience, and you should stop messing around; rather, focus on your main purpose. The work was supposed to keep your mind busy, but you would always find yourself thinking about Morpheus. Nevertheless, you never reconciled with him, although you planned to, you just never knew when. When the song finished, everyone clapped for your performance, and you got down from the fountain, crouching to grab your basket. You waved bye at everyone, and another person came up to start performing as well. It was a small practice you made in the dreaming realm, where the plaza should be filled with live music and performances to make the people feel more welcomed and happier. You decided to go to Fiddler’s Green for the day since it was Valentine’s Day in the human world, and eat a small meal next to the fish. Perhaps afterward, you would gather the courage to talk to Morpheus about how you feel. Regardless, you were going to spend the holiday alone; at least the fish down the river would keep you company.

Walking down the pathway to Fiddler’s Green, you opened your basket to make sure you had everything inside. Inside your basket, you had a red velvet brownie in the shape of a heart, a white wine bottle from the waking realm, and strawberries covered in chocolate. You made the desserts by copying them down from a baker’s cookbook when you went to the waking realm the last time. It took you two tries to get everything right, and you were happy you finally got to eat them. As you got near Fiddler’s Green, you didn’t notice you were being watched. In fact, by the time you sat near the river and began to pull out your dessert, Morpheus and Matthew were hiding behind a bush looking at you. “So, uh. Boss?” questioned Matthew, “I don’t know how it works in the dreaming realm, but in the human world, stalking is a crime.” Morpheus looked at Matthew and responded, “I don’t think I dare to walk up to her.” Matthew cawed and ruffled his feathers; he had to get Morpheus to walk up to you, but he didn’t know how. So, instead, he continued to examine you, eating strawberries while staring at the river. Matthew would look at Morpheus and see how in awe Morpheus’ face was. He shook his head and sighed, “Boss, you gotta walk up to her. Go! Or else, I’m telling her.” Morpheus stopped looking at you and looked at Matthew, “You wouldn’t dare.” Matthew cawed and knew what to do now. “Oh yes, I do.”

Matthew cawed and began to fly towards you, screaming your name. Morpheus nearly dropped the bouquet and chocolates when Matthew began to scream your name. “Oh, (Y/N)!” screamed Matthew while flying to you, “(Y/N), the boss wants to talk to you!” You looked up to see Matthew land on top of your shoulder. “What does Lord Morpheus want?” You asked while taking another bite of the strawberry. Matthew used his wing to point at Morpheus, who was awkwardly walking over. You could see he was hiding something behind his back, and his eyes were looking at the floor. Raising your eyebrow, you asked, “Lord Morpheus, what do you have behind your back?” Morpheus’ face turned a slight pink and he revealed what was behind his back. A bouquet of the reddest roses you ever saw in your life, with a box that you assumed had chocolates. Morpheus cleared his throat and said, “I’m sorry for hurting you. I didn’t mean to make a disaster on New Year’s Day. And…Happy Valentine’s Day.”

“That better not be a pity bouquet. Pity chocolate I’ll take, but that’s it.” You replied while standing up to inspect the chocolate box. Morpheus was taken aback as his eyebrows were raised and his lips turned into a frown. “I picked the roses. Matthew told me you love roses,” Morpheus whispered while looking at the bouquet. You began to laugh and shake your head. “Sorry, Morpheus. It was a cruel joke. I’ll take the roses as well. They’re so beautiful.”

“Not as beautiful as you,” Morpheus stated while looking at you with the softest eyes you ever saw. Your face began to feel hot, and you giggled at the compliment. Meanwhile, Matthew’s beak fell open and he cawed. You motioned Morpheus to sit down next to you and you opened your basket again. Matthew decided to sit on your shoulder and coo as you began to take out your brownies. Morpheus smiled at the sight of the brownies when you gave them to him. Matthew cawed and began to peck at the brownie from your hand. In silence, you ate the brownies together, and you also shared your strawberries with them. Morpheus would glance at you whenever you weren’t looking at him, and he would be amazed. Then, you decided to take out the white wine to drink; however, when you pour the wine into a cup, Morpheus asked, “Why does that look like a love potion?” Matthew gasped and said, “Are you going to bewitch him?” You began to laugh to the point, you nearly dropped the cup. Wiping the tears away from your face, you said, “No, it’s white wine. I assume you’re used to red wine?”

“I don’t drink,” Morpheus stated while inspecting the wine bottle, “Although, it smells lovely.” You gave him the cup and motioned him to take a sip. Since you only brought one cup, you shared the wine with Morpheus. Meanwhile, Matthew was dying of thirst, but he didn’t want to ruin the romantic moment you two were having together. Instead, he got off your shoulder and began to lay on a river rock staring at the fish. Occasionally, he would turn around and see the two of you talking and laughing. Matthew’s tail swayed in excitement and he hoped Morpheus would finally tell you how he feels. It was hard for him to keep quiet, but he tried his best either way. 

“Morpheus,” You started to say, after taking a sip from the wine glass, “I’m sorry for being cold towards you and Matthew. It’s just that, after the incident, I freaked out. I wanted to forget about everything and focus on my work. But it was so hard. When I wanted to talk to you, my body would freeze and I couldn’t find the courage to talk to you. It’s also hard because all I could think about is…you.” You looked at Morpheus, who was staring at you and nodded in agreement. “I understand, (Y/N),” Morpheus admitted while slowly getting closer to you, “However, it’s best to reflect on the past, than dwell on it. At least, Matthew is still alive, and we’re talking. I also think about you…from time to time.” You smiled at him, and he returned the smile. Slowly, you held out your hand, and Morpheus held it. As you locked your hands together, he cleared his throat and whispered, “Rose, rose, rose red. I love you.” You smiled at him and began to laugh at his words. Morpheus furrowed his eyebrows until you explained, “That’s adorable. I guess Matthew told you my favorite song?” Morpheus nodded his head.

You leaned towards him, and Morpheus did the same. Tilting your head to the side, your lips brushed against each other. “Rose, rose, rose red. I love you too.” You whispered before closing the gap. The kiss was sensual, coming off slow and tender before transforming into a deeper kiss to the point your teeth clashed together. However, you broke the kiss after hearing Matthew caw and standing in front of you two. The two of you began to laugh when Matthew gagged at the sight of you two kissing. “Please, get a room next time.” Matthew said while covering his eyes with his wing, “My poor eyes…” You patted his head and apologized. After giving him a piece of strawberry, his tail swayed and his feathers ruffled in happiness. Morpheus stood up and let out his hand. “Come On, Valentine’s Day still isn’t over.” Morpheus said as he helped you up, “Matthew, you can clean up this mess, (Y/N) and I have some unfinished business to take care of.” You began to play with your hair when Morpheus winked at you before Matthew could say anything. Morpheus grabbed your hand to lead you back to the kingdom. Matthew was left alone, and he sighed at the sight of the mess.

“Well, happy Valentine’s Day to me too.” Matthew sighed before pecking at the leftover strawberries.

[roguelov]

All Yours

Summary: You and Morpheus were separated for a while to complete different tasks to help the Dreaming. Then, by luck, you run into each other. And quickly realize you can’t keep your hands off of each other. But, Morpheus soon learns something else about you, something you never showed until now - just how much you love making him yours.

Word Count: ~2.7k

Reader: Fem

Warnings: Teasing/flirting, heavily implied smut but no deeds (sub!Morpheus, possessive kink, light choking, dirty talk, very light exhibition)

Requested by a beautiful anon

MINOR DNI/ 18+ ONLY

In the labyrinthian hallway, its high vaulted ceilings stretched far into the heavens, and its handcrafted stone carvings were all markings of elegance. Twists and turns veered off left and right, and strangely - noted only with a keen eye - hidden passages curved downward or upward to unknown places. All of it mysterious, all of it enchanting. Yet, a figure darted through the halls ignoring all its wonders and secrets.

You.

You, in your haste, mumbled to yourself and focused only on your given tasks. Your footsteps mixed with your incoherent mumbling bounced off the extravagant archways, echoing throughout. Only you and your chaotic thoughts. Your fingers danced in the air as you recounted your mental to-do checklist.

Morpheus - reluctantly, after your constant asking - agreed to your help in maintaining the Dreaming. You assigned yourself with menial, odd end jobs; simply anything to lessen Morpheus’s load. And frankly, you enjoyed it. You enjoyed helping him and those around, and also enjoyed the added bonus of him returning to you sooner. He was no longer exhausted, trying to sneak into your shared bedroom under the veil of night. Now, most of his time could be given to you.

Currently, you were on a hunt. A window had shattered in the library, spilling shards everywhere. An accident, truly. Dreamers were unpredictable and always enthralled by what the Dreaming could offer. A few things may be unfortunately damaged along the way. So, you were searching, somewhat frantically, for Merv to ask if he could lend you a broom.

“Merv said he would be …”

Your voice trailed off as you desperately tried to recall where the elusive pumpkin man was hiding. You groaned, taking another turn down the palace hall. Hopefully, or by pure luck, you could run into him.

Luck, instead, brought you someone else.

Morpheus, from out of a hidden passage, stepped out. Your muttering easily caught his ears in the empty hall. Turning his head, he saw your retreating figure. His heart immediately soared, like an infatuated child seeing their school crush. Only a few hours apart and he ached for you - craved you.

He walked - floated - towards you, drawn in by your infectious gravitational pull. His original task was forgotten.

Morpheus’s hand glided across your back, drawing your attention. You perked up, turning your head. Confusion, written so plainly on your face, melted away. The tension in your shoulders instantly dropped. You smiled, wide and beautiful, at him. Your eyes shone with an overflowing love. The world - for a brief moment, just as your eyes connected - was rosy and perfect.

Morpheus’s heart seized at the sight of you. He kissed your cheek. “How are you, my love?”

“I’m good - better now that you are here.”

He chuckled, softly.

Your smile widened. When Morpheus laughed, rarely does it happen, it was a chorus of angels: sweet, melodic, and uplifting. You reached over, cupping his cheek. He leaned into your touch. He turned his head, pressing his lips into the palm of your hand. Oh, how such a simple touch lit a fire inside of you.

You leaned towards him, kissing him passionately.

He hummed.

His lips, soft and rich, moved expertly against yours. It was a perfect meld. His hands cupped your face, bringing you closer. You smiled against his lips. Your hands snaked up, threading into his dark locks - which always called out to you to tug on them. He carefully backed you up against the wall, tucked between two columns out of sight.

You hummed as your back thumped into the hard surface.

His hands wandered down your body, to your waist. He pressed himself into you, trapping you against him. His lips slowly pulled away as you eagerly chased after him. He smiled lovingly. You returned the smile, unable to hide your happiness or love. He dipped his head, and began kissing down your neck.

You sighed deeply. Your hands, still entangled in his hair, tugged on the ends. He hummed, burying his face into your neck.

So long. It had been too long, he thought.

It had been.

You both had been busy these past days - weeks. He missed you, he missed you more than he could articulate.

You tugged his hair, repeating the simple act, but a little harder this second time. He groaned, and gripped your hips white knuckling them. Thrilled by his needy sounds, you bit back a giddy smile. You pulled on his hair once more, and pulled until his face was out from hiding in the crook of your neck. A low moan tumbled off his beautiful rosy lips. His endless sky blue eyes twinkled, excited.

Your heart skipped.

Your hands skimmed down his chest, and pushed him. You easily flipped Morpheus around. Now, his back was pressed up against the wall with you blocking his escape. Surprise passed over his features - a quick jump of his brows. You only smiled, one filled with devious plans.

Morpheus’s chest heaved. His breathing matched your own; or dare you say more erratic as anticipation flooded through his body. Your eyes landed on his parted lips. So enticing, so wondrous. Your gaze flickered back up. Morpheus’s skin buzzed. Your eyes were filled with an undeniable hunger. His heart fluttered in his chest, like a hummingbird needing to escape from its cage. Oh, but he wouldn’t want to. He was happily pinned down, happily pinned to the wall.

You dipped your head, just as he did only seconds ago. Your lips barely skimmed over his neck, a feathery touch. He didn’t fight or protest. He immediately gave himself over. His head fell to the side, giving you easier access.

You smiled against his skin. You started to pepper kiss over his neck, tantalizingly slow. A test.

A tease.

Morpheus sighed as his eyes fluttered closed.

Encouraged by his soft sounds and willingness, you started to be more demanding and suck at his marble crafted skin. The thrill of marking him, here and now, enticed you greatly. Your love bites were to be shown off for all of the Dreaming to see. He was yours, only you could do this to him.

Your teeth grazed over his skin and gently nipped at him.

He let out a breathy moan.

You smirked. You continued, littering his neck with your work - sucking, biting at his neck, and soothing any pains with your hypnotic tongue. You even worked your way to the other side of his neck; nothing would go untouched by you.

Morpheus’s breathing was becoming more and more labored, coming out in short bursts. His hands latched back onto your hips, needing to hold onto you. His fingers dug into you, definitely bruising you as you were bruising him. He drew you close, bucking his hips against yours. The tiny friction was electrical, dizzying.

Oh, how he loved this.

To be at your mercy.

To be yours.

You pulled away, much to Morpheus’s dismay. A predatory smile crossed over your lips. Morpheus’s typically perfect pale skin was now covered in blemishes, blemishes of your doing.

“Well, don’t you look pretty,” you whispered sultry.

Morpheus’s droopy eyes flickered open, glancing up at you. Never, never in all the time he knew you, did he expect this. You never said anything before. But, oh he loved this delicious surprise. You ran a finger over his bruised neck. A faint hum of pain coursed through him. Pain which morphed into pleasure. He shivered under your delicate touch.

“What’s the problem, my sweet king?” Your smirk grew. “Talk to me.”

Before he could speak, your hand flew down cupping his growing bulge.

His head dropped forward onto your shoulder. A whimper, an unbelievable needy whine, fell from his lips. He let out a shaky low breath.

How did you do this to him? How was he rendered into such a state?

Dream of the Endless, King of Nightmares, was at a mortal’s mercy. Every touch set a uncontrollable fire of want and need under his skin. He could feel himself burning from the inside out because of you. Your lips pulled out such carnal desires from him - desires not even his dear sibling could create. Your hands, your light nimble fingers, mapped out his body knowing how to make him sing, to make the world know who he belonged to.

You were his destruction and savior.

“Morpheus,” you purred. “Answer -“

Footsteps echoed.

You whipped away from Morpheus. You peered around the large column to see a shadow casted on the walls and slowly approached you. As the figure walked forward, the iconic round head and orange hue signified it was Mervyn - the person you wanted to find minutes ago before this exciting turn of events. You quickly glanced back at Morpheus. His glassy, dazed, eyes sharpened slightly at the sound. He tried to move - possibly to see who it was and to promptly remove himself from this somewhat embarrassing situation. Yet, you clamped a hand over his mouth, and kept him in place.

“Don’t.” You whispered, sternly.

He froze.

He obliged to your command. With one word, he was rooted in place.

You casually - or as nonchalant as possible - stepped out into view as Merv walked up. Morpheus was completely hidden behind the column, and you appeared to be leaning on it as if you stopped to have a rest. Your hand tucked around the column stayed on Morpheus’s mouth, not wishing to let go.

The pumpkin man cocked his head. “Uh, hey there, (Y/N). I didn’t see you there.”

“Hey, Merv,” you smiled, picture perfect. “You are actually the exact person I was looking for.”

Merv’s face scrunched together. “You were? Why?”

As you began to tell Merv the minor incident that occurred in the library, your hand slowly, inch by inch, crept down from Morpheus’s mouth to around his beautifully sculpted neck. Instantly, Morpheus craned his head back. Once again, he gave himself over. He closed his eyes, letting out a shaky exhale.

Upon hearing him, you gently squeezed. A firm warning: not a single sound.

Morpheus bit the inside of his cheek and swallowed down his growing and apparent desperation.

Merv sighed, “Alright, I’ll go clean it up.”

“Oh, no, you don’t have to do that. I would be more than happy to do so, I would just need a broom and a pan,” you cheerfully replied.

Morpheus’s heart sank. You would leave him? Leave him in such a desperate state? A faint, barely notable, whine hummed in the back of his throat.

But, you noticed.

You squeezed his neck - his second warning. His hands flew up and wrapped around your wrist. He needed to touch you, to find ground in his dizzying euphoric state. He carefully removed your hand from his neck, which you allowed - mostly curious as to what he was doing. He brought your hand to his lips, and peppered up your wrist with delicate kisses. It was his way of saying he needed you.

He needed you now.

The only sign you gave was a smile - a minuscule twitch of the corner of your lips.

“If you say so,” Merv huffed. “Less work for me the better. Here I can show you where I keep my stuff.”

“Actually, could you just drop it off in the library? There are a few other things I need to do, something small on my way to the library.”

Merv squinted his eyes as his lips puckered in thought, then he just nodded. “Okay.” He spun around, walking back where he came from. “And you and the boss better not make a mess because I am not cleaning that up.”

Morpheus flinched.

You, however, laughed. “Will do, Merv. Thanks.”

You slid back in front of Morpheus, like the serpent ready to tempt. Your eyes darkened. The air was knocked out of Morpheus’s lung. One look and he was ready to fall to his knees, to grant you your wish. You grabbed Morpheus’s face, drawing him close to you. “Let’s take this elsewhere, my sweet king.” Your lips brushed over his. “Before we upset Merv.”

A couple hours later, Morpheus strolled through the hallways of the winding castle. He was on his way to his studies, or specifically to the beach to work on his new dreams and nightmares. You, on the other hand, had left, making your way to the library to clean up the mess among completing a few other tasks on your list.

Your lips, the memory of it, still ghosted over his skin. It haunted him. His fingers traced over his neck, feeling the tenderness. He laughed once through his nose. You were devious.

“I don’t think I ever mentioned how much I loved seeing you like this.” You murmured, as you straddled him. Your fingers delicately traced over his bruised neck, and down his bare chest where new marks rose. “I did this.”

His chest rumbled as he chuckled. “Yes, you did, my love.”

You bent down, skimming your lips over his. “You’re all mine.”

His hands cupped your face, kissing you. Muttering against your lips, he said, “I am.”

Morpheus was so enwrapped with his memories, with your lingering touches, that he failed to notice Matthew soaring towards him.

“Hey, boss?”

Morpheus blinked, snapping himself out of those pleasant thoughts. He glanced up to see Matthew descend, landing on his shoulder. “Hello, Matthew,” Morpheus greeted.

Matthew had something to tell the King of Dreams, however his thoughts quickly vanished at the sight of Morpheus’s spotted bruised neck. Matthew snickered, “Did you have some fun, boss?”

Morpheus’s brows knitted together, only to smooth out as realization hit. A passive, almost annoyed, look was painted over his steely features. “We are adults here, Matthew.”

Matthew ignored the obvious irritated look Morpheus was giving him. “Sure, but we’re not animals - well, most of us aren’t. And she got you good, sir.” Matthew’s tone said it all, he was gleefully happy to poke at the Endless.

Morpheus rolled his eyes.

“Now, I understand why Merv was in a mood earlier. He was mumbling about the two of you.” Matthew chuckled. “Poor guy probably saw too much.”

Morpheus stayed silent, unwilling to indulge Matthew.

“Do you want some ice, sir? It might help.”

“I can assure you, Matthew, I am perfectly fine.”

Matthew hummed, “Uh-huh, I bet you are. Probably a lot better now.”

“And what are you implying?” Morpheus turned his head, eyeing the raven.

Matthew cocked his head, his eyes twinkled with mischief. “Imply it however you want, sir.”

Morpheus huffed, turning his head. “Do you not have something better to do?”

“I did.” Matthew settled, lowering himself onto Morpheus’s shoulder, content to take place here instead. “But, I can’t remember.”

“Of course,” Morpheus mumbled to himself.

Morpheus continued to stroll down the hall, with a chirper Matthew babbling on his shoulder. He could send the pesky raven elsewhere, but in all honesty he didn’t mind the jokes. All he could think of was hours ago.

“You’re all mine.”

He was yours, and he didn’t want anyone to think otherwise.

And speaking of the devil, you popped up around a corner carrying a broom and pan. You were trying to find Merv again, or find where to put his supplies. It was deja vu all over again. But, you had a sinking feeling Merv didn’t wish to be near you anytime soon.

Your embarrassment, on the other hand, was far and few. You would happily do it all over again.

Glancing around, your eyes landed on the pair. You smiled at them. Morpheus’s face instantly lit up, he returned the smile. A change which Matthew noted and chuckled to himself.

Morpheus ignored him like he had been.

Your eyes dropped, stealing a glance at his marked neck. Your smile widened and you shook your head. As you walked up to them, you said in a sly remark, “You have a little something on your neck, my king.”

“Do I?” Morpheus smiled, pleased to play along with your banter. “How odd.”

You chuckled.

Matthew glanced between the two of you, unable to believe he was witnessing any of this. “Should I leave you two?” He joked.

You laughed, shaking your head. “No, you don’t have to. I actually wanted to ask if either of you happen to know where Merv is or where I can put his stuff?”

“Down the hall. Two lefts then a right, second door on the right.” Morpheus answered.

You beamed. “Thanks.”

“You’re welcome, my love.”

You started to walk by. You looked to Morpheus then to Matthew, still comfortably perched on his shoulder. Your smile changed into a little smirk, “And Matthew be nice to him, he’s clearly hurt.”