#dream of the endless romance

[cuubism]

i went to physical therapy for my stupid broken arm so as is my legal obligation i HAD to make ship content about it. everything is ship content that's how it is

cw injury, referenced abusive relationships

--

Hob's had plenty of clients come to physical therapy who clearly don't want to be there. Plenty of others who are reasonably frustrated by the work and time involved in regaining functioning after an injury. But this is the first time he's just had someone be... quiet. Resigned.

Dream sits with his hand cradled to his chest, barely speaking, only answering when Hob asks a direct question. He's reluctant to give Hob his hand when Hob asks if he can look at it, like he thinks Hob's grip is a bear trap that will snap down and crush the bones like whatever had done so the first time. Hob still doesn't know what that was. All he knows is the bones have been realigned and healed over but the dexterity in his hand still isn't right. That was what Dream had said, in the first spark of passion Hob had heard from him. It's not right.

But he does eventually give his hand over. His bones are so fine and delicate, and each movement hesitant. Cautious. Hob tests the flexibility. The strength. Dream is right, it's not where it should be. He still doesn't know what happened.

"I won't make you tell me if you really don't want to," Hob says gently. "But it is important to know how it happened to make sure we rehab it the right way. Did you get it caught in something? I've seen guys come in with machine injuries like that."

Nothing about Dream suggests "person who works with heavy machinery." But who knows. Hob will try not to stereotype.

"No," Dream says quietly, looking down and away from his hand like he can't bear to see it. "I. I am an artist. My ex... he felt that I cared more about my art than about him. Perhaps I did. And he was... frustrated. I suppose."

Hob can put the rest of the pieces together in his mind. "Jesus," he breathes, and Dream flinches.

"I have an unfortunate ability to involve myself with such people," he says.

"No, it's not your fault," Hob says automatically.

Dream narrows his eyes. "You presume to know that?"

Hob raises his hands in surrender. "Never mind. I won't pry." He's not Dream's therapist. His job is to help him with his hand, not... whatever else is going on in his life.

He takes Dream's hand carefully between both of his own again. Presses down lightly on his knuckles. "So. Crushed. Like that?"

Dream nods. Hob still doesn't know all the details, but he's imagining a boot going down hard on the top of Dream's hand. The thought is sickening.

"Can you fix it?" Dream asks, like he doesn't dare to hope.

"Well, you already had it repaired surgically, yeah?" Hob says. This strikes him as a bit of good luck--hand fractures are not simple--but he doesn't want to undercut Dream's confidence even further by saying so. He's usually pretty good at reading his clients, and he's already sensing that Dream is holding onto his determination to be here at all by the barest thread. Best to build him up as much as possible. "So it's just a matter of strengthening the muscles again."

He's fairly confident he can get him back to a usual level of functioning with it. The question is whether he can return him to the specific level of dexterity he needs for his art. He doesn't say that. Not yet.

Finally, he gets the tiniest of smiles out of Dream. He's really lovely when he smiles.

(He's pretty when he doesn't smile, too. Hob would have to be blind not to notice it.)

"So," Hob says. "Let's look at the current range of motion, yeah?"

Dream tilts his head. "Did you not already do so?"

"For regular motion, yeah. But I want to see where it's impacting your drawing."

Dream draws his hand back, looking uncertain.

"Come on." Hob hands him a pen and paper. "Show me. I promise I know nothing about art. If it's not up to your usual standards, I'm not going to be able to tell."

Finally, Dream takes the pen, and starts sketching.

Hob watches, noting the way his hand trembles, his uneven grip on the pen. Notes how quickly he gets demoralized when it doesn't turn out the way he wants. Hob can make out what he's written and drawn, but it's clear from Dream's expression that it's far from how it's supposed to be.

"This is just a starting point," Hob reminds him. He has a feeling he's going to be doing a lot of those sorts of reminders with Dream; he does not seem to find optimism easy.

Then again, if someone who supposedly loved him had hurt him like that, Hob would probably find optimism a bit difficult, too.

Finally, Dream drops the pen, clearly frustrated. "I have tried to paint at home, too. It has not turned out any better. You should throw those away." He gestures to the sketches. "They are terrible."

"Nah, I'm gonna keep them," Hob says, and puts them in his folder. "For comparison later." It could also partially be because he finds Dream's drawings of cats, imperfect as they are, charming. Sue him.

"As you insist," Dream says.

Hob gives him documentation on some other exercises he can do at home. Tries to think through what might make him feel better with his art. It feels, somehow, so important to make him feel better.

"At home, go easy on trying to use a pen, or paintbrush or whatever, it's hard on your hand," he finally says. "But you probably want to get back to your art, so-- okay, don't make fun of me if this is stupid."

Dream just raises an eyebrow, waiting.

Maybe Hob should try to learn more about art before he gives advice. Nevertheless, he forges on. "Holding a pen is tough, but if you wanted to like, finger paint or something? That would probably be fine. Might be good for flexibility, even."

"Finger paint," Dream repeats, enunciating each word.

"I told you not to make fun of me if it was stupid."

Dream smiles, just a small thing, like he finds Hob ridiculous but in a charming way. Good enough, Hob figures.

"Very well," Dream says at last. "I will take your advice."

Dream simply walking out had felt like a distinct possibility, so Hob will take this as a win.

"Hey," he says later, catching Dream for a moment as he's checking him out. "It's going to get better, yeah? Trust me. Don't worry too hard, just give it time."

He really shouldn't make promises like that. But he can't seem to help it, with Dream.

Dream considers, then says. "I do trust you."

Hob finds that it means a lot. Now he's just going to have to earn it.

[the-cloudy-dreamer]

“And here we are! Mister Gadling if I may introduce you to the owner of this estate, Lord Morpheus Endelas?'' The portrait of a severe looking man hangs at the top of the staircase, with an ornate golden frame. It is the only thing occupying that wall. 

It looks lonely. 

“Lord Morpheus? So, if he is the owner of this estate, why is his sister the one rushing to sell it? Where is he?” Hob asks, confused.  

“Nobody really knows. He was quite the renowned painter at the time but went missing at the peak of his career months after his only son died in a tragic accident,” Mister Edwards explains. 

Hob’s heart clenches in sympathy, as if to lose one’s child seems horrible enough, but to be expected to carry on after such a loss seems unthinkable to him.

“Hold on, missing? Missing implies that he is still out there! Doesn't he get a say in what happens to his state? He could come back and rightfully unleash his wrath upon us for going through with this! Sir, you have to understand that if I am to take up this job offer I need to know I’m not risking my entire career and reputation over it.”

He feels perplexed “Wasn't anyone else concerned about this? How is picking apart a missing man’s home and selling all his worldly possessions to the highest bidder even considered acceptable? What was the Endelas family even thinking? The man lost his only child, surely he just needed some time away?” It didn't seem unreasonable to Hob. 

He didn’t like it. Something about this felt wrong.

“It is believed even by his own remaining family, that Lord Endelas killed himself. Saying he is missing is the polite way to not address the fact that no body was ever found! Even before his son’s death he was infamous for his melancholic moods and tendencies towards neglecting himself to the point of damaging his own health significantly. So I’m hardly asking you to do anything immoral here! You are a good man Mister Gadling, and if the thought of taking this job distresses you so much I will accept that and find someone else to do it, but Lady Endelas wants this to be done sooner rather than later and I think you are the best choice for it.”

Hob turns his attention back to the portrait and contemplates for a moment.

He truly did look lonely up there.

“I will give you my answer tomorrow morning, Mister Edwards,” he concludes. 

“That’s all I ask for Mister Gadling, for you to consider it. Thank you.” Edwards inclines his head and promptly turns around, heading back downstairs.

Hob looks helplessly at the portrait of Lord Morpheus, already knowing he will take the job come morning. 

Damn him and his bleeding heart.

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Ta-dah! illustration that's part of my gothic romance dreamling AU for @dreamlingnation spooky event !! the prompt that inspired this was "cursed painting" the comic pages for the ficlet above are already in the works so stay tuned for that and more!

special thanks to @academicblorbo for helping me edit this, you are the best friend!

[natsmindx]

⋆.˚⋆✮⋆.˚ Desired Love

Dream x F! Reader Oneshot

Dream x Harmonia (reader), daughter of Aphrodite and Ares

Song inspo: Astronomy by Conan Gray

Warnings: Melancholy, angsty, oddly romantic?

A/Note: This is my first ever blog/written work published ever! I miss Morpheus and there’s hardly any work published for him so I got to work…hope you all enjoy!

PSA: this is not perfect :)

“Here face to face. Stranger that I once knew…”

Backstory: You and Morpheus had known each other for years, centuries actually. You always had a soft spot for Dream of the Endless. But did he have a soft spot for you? As a daughter of gods you knew your position. When you heard of Morpheus and Calliope’s marriage you were forced to back away until you were out of Dreams life entirely. Even when he was suffering his sons death, his wife abandoning him, a failed relationship with a mortal, and when he was captured by said mortals. You hadn’t seen him in centuries, until one day.

You were sitting on your throne, reading a mortals plead for harmony within their family’s house ownership. You had plenty of those, they always made you chuckle. Silly mortals and their fights over an object. Apart from those pleads, you also received pleads from the wars, those praying were being heard and you had that as your priority. Meeting with your brother Deimos and your father Ares, trying to get them to stop these affairs and let you do your work without causing more harm.

As you were reading you were suddenly interrupted by footsteps approaching your throne chair.

…

“I am quite busy” I said still focused on the book.

“To see me?” A low, raspy like tone spoke out loud

I froze completely, not daring to look up from my book. I stared at the page, eyes widened, not daring to glare at whose voice that belonged to.

Dream…Morpheus

I began to gain sensation again, frantically looking around the page I left on. I began to slowly look up from my book.

There he was. Tall, lean, messy haired, in all black. Morpheus, the Dream Lord, the King of Nightmares.

“Morpheus” you whispered still in shock, I couldn’t believe my eyes or ears. Perhaps I myself was dreaming. Yes, I had to be dreaming. I’ve wanted this for so long.

“Harmony” he said out loud in his dreamy voice that could easily induce me to sleep if I gave it the power to.

His eyes pleading for something, to say something. He always had that about him, he never used his voice much but his eyes. Always glazed with tears that I didn’t know if they were sad or happy. But that’s the thing, I had never seen Dream cry. Ever. The last time we saw each other was over 300 years ago, after I found out he was bound to marry my cousin Calliope, his now ex wife.

“Is everything okay?” I spoke gently, slowly getting up from my throne to meet him face to face.

“I…I” he chocked on his own words.

“Onerous” you said softly while looking into his eyes

“I am sorry” he slowly said. His eyes getting redder by the second.

You were now perplexed by emotions you didn’t know you still had. Romantic ones but also anger.

“Sorry?” You said both in question and in a sarcastic manner

“I was captured. 200 years” he started

“A long time to go over almost my entire existence”

“I am sorry for breaking your heart, abandoning, and humiliating you Harmonia.”

“I am sorry.”

“For all of it.”

I just stared at him, with now red teary eyes.

I hated remembering that day when everything went down, when my parents threatened to ban me from Olympus. To destroy my own realm. I loved Morpheus but within all these years I had found peace with had happened, or so I thought because after all I am the goddess of harmony, why not give myself grace as I do to mortals?

“It’s been years Morpheus.” I say sternly clenching my fists tightly that my nails dug into my palm.

“I am sorry mortals had the audacity to hold you captive. I tried reaching out to your siblings. Death and even Destiny but they didn’t want to interfere. After all, I am not your wife Morpheus nor a close friend” I said in a reminding manner while walking away from my throne onto the door to leave. Until he spoke again.

“Calliope and I are not together.” He said quickly. I could feel his despair.

“I know” I said relaxed. Not amused.

I found out about everything. His dead son, his wife leaving him but I didn’t reach out.

I wasn’t allowed to.

His face changed, one from softness to almost anger. Almost as stating how dare I know about what happened and not have comforted him. Not given him, a king, a lord, harmony; but grief comes before any comfort is given. There needs to be acceptance. There needs to be something for harmony to flourish in. He hadn’t allowed for any of it to sink in. Not until now.

“I am sorry for your losses Morpheus. I truly am but it is not my priority to comfort you, not when you took with a grain of salt what we had.” I said bitter. Not like me. Standing still.

“I wasn’t allowed to either way.” you said now angry, wiping a tear away

“Allowed to? Your’re a goddess.” He stated, almost with a hint of sarcasm behind it.

I chuckled.

“A goddess?” I questioned with a light laugh.

“A goddess whose parents threatened to kick her out of Olympus and destroy her realm if she interfered with your wedding and your married life.” I said while pointing angrily at Morpheus.

Dreams facial expressions completely changed. From anger to confusion and sadness.

“What” he said hurt

I stared at him, looking at his eyes with an almost pleading look.

He walked closer to me, mere inches away from my face

“I had to keep my distance Dream. For your sake, for my realms, for humanity.” I said now whispering as his hand reached to cup my cheek gently. I sunk into his palm. A tear running down my face.

Losing harmony would cause havoc on earth. It was too much of a risk.

Morpheus stared into my eyes, cautious of every move.

“Have you said the words, I would have not married her. Have you said the words I would have stayed with you.” He said now with a tear running down his cheek. I wiped it gently away with my thumb.

He’s so pretty.

He was now nearly 2 inches away from me, too close. I keep looking up at him and then looking down.

My skin now goosebumps as I felt Dreams breath against my skin, against my neck.

“You're pointing at stars in the sky that already died.”

“I loved you Morpheus.” I whispered into his ear. Tears silently fell down my cheeks.

“And I hate that after all this I still do.” I ended.

His eyes met mine and they were more red than ever, with streams of tears slowly starting to fall.

Dream had his own faults, his own feelings towards love. He was never lucky in it. A failed marriage and situations where the one he loved never wanted to marry him. Dream still loved Harmonia throughout everything. Yes, maybe a little less when he was married to Calliope but she was still in the back of his head throughout everything.

“Do you think it was easy for me? To forget you and what we had?” He questions you offended.

You think for a second.

“I don’t know Dream. I am pretty sure you were busy.” I said as cold as I could whilst backing away from him.

You weren’t harsh, and you barely got into arguments but you felt a certain way about this situation and anger was one of them. Maybe your father Ares was manipulating this situation, making you angry. He is your father after all and there is a part of him in you whether you liked it or not.

“What are you implying.” He now said hurt.

“Your realm is your first priority. Yes? And during that time your marriage was, your wife. Pleasure is simply a gift from marriage. A gift from my lovely mother and I. I suppose.” You stated, continuing walking away from Dream to sit on your throne chair again wiping dried tears away.

“Pleasure?” He now questioned angrily.

“Yes. Pleasure. My mother made sure to tell me all about it.” you replied cold crossing your legs on the throne.

Aphrodite. The goddess of beauty, passion, fertility and marriage. Blessing everyone but her only daughter.

Dream lowered his head. Almost embarrassed.

“Pleasure is undeniable. I admit it but I am quite sure you have received that as well Harmonia.”

I just stayed there, unable to move as my eyes glistened with tears again. I missed Morpheus so bad. My body craved his. I needed him.

“He needs you.” the wind spoke.

We looked at each other for a couple of seconds and when I was about to get up again Morpheus was now in front of me, leaning down, kissing me.

It was a sloppy, hungry, messy kiss. After centuries of not feeling his touch and his oddly warm hands on my body. We kept kissing for what felt like those centuries we had missed together. I didn’t care what my parents would have to say in the moment.

I wanted my lover back.

The end.

[windsweptinred]

The fact that Dream had to deal with the Greek Pantheon as his family in law is both horrifying and absolutely hilarious. Did the poor naive soul walk into that thinking it couldn't be any worse then his family? ... There's I'll do anything for my beloved wife to be and dealing with Lord grope first, think never as your father in law. Yeah sure Dream, live separately from your wife to 'keep it special'. I'm pretty sure that's code for, keep your entire family of chaotic neutral rabbits way way... Way over there where I don't have to see, speak or hear them. Ever! Wow, think of the mutual family gatherings. At some point, Desire and Aphrodite shared the same breathing space and yet the world somehow surivied past the hellenistic period. Amazing!

[magnusbae]

Dreamling - Comfort given freely - 691w

Dream has a hard time accepting all the succor he had received from Hob since his return in 2020.

▾▾▾

"Why?” Dream asks.

“I knew you needed it” Hob smiles at him “and I could give it, so what’s the harm in that?”

Dream averts his eyes, pride and hurt fighting inside of him. He does not wish to be so, he wishes not to be depended on anyone’s pity, on anyone’s scrapes of empathy— but oh stars, how he does need it, how much the empty spaces of the fabric of his soul crave it, want it.

He cannot face this man, cannot look him in the eyes and let him know that he had won. Won where others did not. Many had gained his affections, some had gained his love, but Hob....Hob had won his trust. He had won his trust and he had won him over.

He has the power over him, one of the Endless.

Something that should not be, shouldn't have happened.

“Morpheus?” Hob asks, a short silence, and closer “Dream” he says, gentle, gentle as if talking to a wounded thing, a hurt thing.

Is there no end to this man’s pity? 

Dream’s insides twists, for he knows that Hob is honest, and that Hob is true. He knows that he means it, means this care of his. Dream wonders if he should leave, if he was mistaken for questioning it. Perhaps he should accept it, allow his pride some rest. And yet—

“I love you.” Hob says.

Dream looks up, sharp, alert. 

“What?” he says, though he had heard him quite well. 

“I love you.” Hob says with a shrug, kind eyes looking sad “You don’t need to think so hard about it, there’s nothing to it other than that, I love you, I love you and I’d do anything for you” Hob finds his eyes, and smiles again, there's a deeply rooted fondness in that look.

For a moment, Dream's shadow distorts, the lights in the room flickering. He notices that as he notices the heat in his chest, at his neck, on his face. This body of his, this image he presents to the world, should not do things he does not choose to show.

Words that are his to command, that come so easily to him at most days, are lost to him now as he opens his mouth and no sound comes out in response to Hob's confession.

Love. He knows love. Bright and passionate, strong and wild, worlds consumed, galaxies worth of feelings— love is not this, not the calm patience of a friend, not the endless devotion, not the... soothing safety he feels in Hob's presence.

“You confuse.” Dream answers at last.

“No I don’t” Hob’s light reply comes without a hint of argument.

“Hob Gadling, you—”

“—love you?” Hob completes, this time smiling. 

Annoyance ignites whitin Dream, the heat on his face deepening. 

“Do not mock me.” he starts, voice raising a fraction, deepening a bit. He will not allow this. He will not stand here as a mere human makes mockery of—

“Dream, I don’t.” Hob reaches a hand— hesitates only a second— and takes a hold of Dream’s tense hand. “It’s okay if you don’t, I don’t expect you to, but this..” he presses their joint hands across his own chest “...is how I feel. I’d do crazier things for you than just care for you, " he stops as if he swallowed one last word, looking mildly bashful but with an unashamed smile on his lips. “tis just how it is” he says and squeezes Dream’s hand firmer against his chest.

Dream can feel the quick rhythm of his heart, can feel the roughness of his hand, can sense the human warmth of him— he can feel his love.

"I...understand." he says, and this is not true, he does not.

He does not understand this form of love. Does not know how to experience nor how to express it. Yet he finds himself wishing for it. Finds himself wanting not for the scorching heat of a dying star but for the soothing tranquility of a spring lake. Something calm, something without waves to drown him under. Something...safe.

Something that might just be Hob Gadling.

[withoutyouimsaskia]

Autumn (Sandman One-Shot)

​GIF: Originally posted by @thisgameissonintendo

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

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

Warnings: Physical intimacy, kissing.

Word Count: 1.5k

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

Sandman Masterlist

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

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

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

"Is that a yes?"

"I am simply adding some final touches."

Ever the perfectionist, you think with a grin.

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

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

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

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

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

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

You notice the colours first, their vivacity and variety:

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

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

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

Everything you saw was a showcase of autumn.

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

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

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

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

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

Everything feels right in this moment.

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

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

A dreamscape that he wanted to share with you.

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

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

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

"Thank you, I really needed this."

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

Blue to pink, pink to blue.

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

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

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

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

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

He moves closer and his pupils blow out from anticipation.

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

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

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

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

You go to lay back on the bed of leaves.

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

You smile softly to assure him that all is well.

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

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

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

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

"So beautiful," Morpheus murmurs reverently.

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

[ibrithir-was-here]

@softest-punk Ok! Here it is xD my best attempt at an 80’s Avon cover (not quite a bodice ripper but I hope it suffices—I would have done a bodice ripper but had to put Orpheus in there too the sweetie and he rather swerved that mood xD )

I tried to incorporate as many visuals as you’d already posted. The suits, the earrings, the settee. And a bit of the Jane Austen cover!

And here’s the back cover with your synopsis:

And the cover without the title and writing

I tried to give it all a vintage/worn sort of feel, like it was a well loved paperback that had been read many times over, just as the actual fic has been :) Thank you for sharing such a beautiful story with all of us!!!

[zarnzarn]

untapped comedy potential truly is hob gadlings siblings. he was born in Plagues England there's no way he didn't have em in the double digits. someone asks if he's intimidated by the number of in-laws and he cheerfully says that no these ones don't even bite. there's no way this guy wasn't annoyed into immortalality with righteous older siblings and annoying younger ones w the crazy look in his eyes.

[designtheendless]

My Centennial Romance

[the-cloudy-dreamer]

Gothic Romance Dreamling AU (General Plot)

“Robert Gadling is a professional appraiser who’s being offered a job cataloguing the contents of an old, abandoned family estate.

The former owner Lord Morpheus Endelas, a infamously mercurial painter, went missing months after his only son’s death.

After formal investigation decides to classify Morpheus’s disappearance as a cold case, the remaining Endelas family hires an auctioning house to sell out their brother’s estate.

Through cataloguing the estate Robert begins to know Morpheus and to piece together the last months of his life, particularly the late man’s obsession with something called the “the ancient order of mysteries”.

What does this order have to do with Lord Endelas , late son Orpheus Endelas and Lord Endelas own disappearance?

More importantly why can’t Robert stop having dreams about this man he’s never met before?”

[valhargreeves]

Traditional sketch practice because I rarely do it anymore (and get rusty because of it)

I think Prima and Daniel could get along and be best friends

Prima is the first of everything and Daniel is the beginning of something new.

[windsweptinred]

So I'm currently reading the Lucifer comics and if, as fandom fanons, Dream and Lucifer definitely have a history, well… Let's put it this way. 

If most of the 20th century, with all its wank and wonderlust, was down to Dream being imprisoned and Desire/Despair ruling men's hearts and minds uncontested. 

Then the Mediaeval period is down to a Dreamingstar summer fling. Because all the tomfuckery that went down then, is the only way to describe Lucifer and Dream (at his peak ‘brat prince’) and the cosmic energy that dalliance would generate. 

[cliophilyra]

Everyone needs to read this wonderful Dreamling Regency AU!

I you love Jane Austin - or even if (like me) you can take her or leave her - you will love this. The story, language, historical accuracy and characterisations are brilliant. It reminded me a lot of my favourite historical mlm romance author KJ Charles.

I can’t recommend it highly enough.

[withoutyouimsaskia]

Fever Dream (Sandman One-Shot)

GIF: Originally posted by @saraicus​​​​

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

Summary: One-shot. Reader self-insert. Established relationship. Fluff. You develop a flu-like illness resulting in fever dreams. Morpheus helps you with the nightmares and cares for you.

Warnings: sickness, nightmares

Word Count: 2.2k

Sandman Masterlist

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

Pressing your fingertip to the red circle of pixels on your phone screen to hang up the call took effort.

That was when you knew that you were in for a brutal few days.

Your boss had asked very few questions on said call, summating pretty easily from your voice that you were not in any fit state to be working.

Your first sign of what was to come had been the sore throat that had emerged the day before yesterday. A scritchy sensation that had intensified with every swallow before progressing into a tickly cough in the next 24 hours.

Bedtime last night saw you at the proverbial fork in the sickness road. One path led to a moderate illness and the other to a severe one. The only way to know which you were about to be dealt was to wait until morning.

According to your memory, there had been no recent contact with anyone acutely sick, and with this in mind, you had not mentioned your symptoms to Morpheus when you had gone to meet him in the Dreaming. There seemed little reason; you had been fairly certain that it wasn’t going to be bad.

Understatement didn't even cover it.

You had woken ten minutes ago with aches so deep inside your bones that it felt like your marrow was being scraped by razor claws. Every movement was now painful, including low impact ones like utilising your phone.

You plop the object on your bedside table before slumping back against your pillow.

All you desire is sleep yet you know you must attend to some basic needs first. You go through the list in your head:

1. Toilet

2. Sustenance

3. Hydration

4. Painkillers

5. Hydration Pt. II

The very idea of moving was not tempting in the slightest yet you cajole yourself out into the cold air of your apartment. Your steps are wobbly on the way to the bathroom and lurching as you press on to the kitchen.

You shovel a banana into your mouth and down an entire pint of water with great urgency. Two paracetamol tablets are then chased down with another gulp of tepid liquid.

How you manage to get back to your bedroom while holding a full glass and several packets of medication without incident, you are unsure however, it is a relief when you are back under your covers.

Sleep claims you not long after.

***

Morpheus senses your return to the Dreaming and it confuses him slightly. Why had you come back so quickly? You are a firm believer in getting up when your alarm sounds.

The Endless reasons that you must have changed your schedule. A day of leave from work, perhaps. The idea satisfies him for a little while and then curiosity becomes too predominant.

He lets his being drift towards your sleeping mind to check in.

What he finds in your subconscious is a kaleidoscope of disjointed scenes, all with an unpleasant or sinister underpinning.

You are holding a frightened cat in your arms as you wade through knee high sewage. You are in a room with an old television that bursts into flames when you go to turn it off. You are scrabbling on a hardwood floor, desperately trying to find something but being completely unable to remember what it was that you had misplaced. You are running through deserted streets, convinced that someone is following you, taking more and more detours to try and shake them off.

He feels your fear reach a crescendo as your pursuer gains a corporeal form. The images then begin to shake, burning and flashing with a palette of hyper-reality.

He has seen this many times before.

You were having a fever dream.

Which meant you were suffering.

You suddenly cry out his name and the sound is like the stab of a blade in Morpheus' gut.

He ends the nightmarish dream without hesitation, tells Lucienne of his intentions and leaves to journey to you in the Waking World.

***

Morpheus stands at the foot of your bed. Even with the curtains drawn, he is able to notice your off-colour complexion. Your eyes are closed despite being awake. The covers are draped clumsily over your frame. He longs to re-arrange them to ensure you are completely wrapped in their embrace but he doesn't want to startle you with an unexpected touch.

He speaks your name.

Your eyelids flutter and your attention is drawn to where he is standing. Your eyes are unable to focus yet you know what you are seeing is Morpheus for you would recognise his silhouette anywhere. Whether he was real was a different matter.

"Morpheus?"

"My love."

His deep, rich timbre thrums through the air at a resonance that is unable to be fabricated; no hallucination could match it even if it tried.

"Why are you here?"

As your partner, it was not the first time he had been in your house however it was the first time he had come unannounced.

"You called for me in your sleep."

"I did?" You let out a cough.

"You were having a fever dream."

You suddenly become aware of the clammy sweat that is drenching every part of your body. In fact, the more you dialled into your senses, the more you began to notice other hallmarks of being in the grasp of a fever. The inability to regulate your core temperature manifesting in the quick-fire switching of hot and cold. Deep seated shivers that ripple through your body and into the mattress. It must have come on since you had fallen asleep.

Morpheus moves to crouch beside you.

"What can I do to help you, my love?"

"I think I just need to sleep."

He concurs with a nod before adding, "I will ensure that it is a peaceful one."

He reaches inside the pocket of his coat and produces his leather pouch.

"When would you like me to wake you?"

You fumble for your phone to check the time.

"In 3 and a half hours. That's when I can take my next lot of medication."

"May I sit next to you?"

You nod your agreement.

Morpheus walks around the bed and removes his boots before situating himself beside you. He neatens the duvet with a precise tug.

"I will be here to watch over you."

"Thank you," you whisper hoarsely.

Morpheus takes some sand and breezes it across your face with a steady exhalation. He feels your mind materialise in the Dreaming.

Barefoot, you walk on the shoreline of a deserted beach. A gentle tide laps over the golden sand. The sun is high in the sky, accompanied by pillowy clouds. A tranquil haven.

You sit just out of reach of the waves and deeply breathe the sea salt air with closed eyes. Morpheus chooses this moment to step into the frame and settle next to you, a direct mirroring of your waking world configuration.

He watches you intently and is soon satisfied; your smile and the unfurling of your fists indicate that you have calmed, at least in your psychological space.

Morpheus comes back to your bedroom and assumes sentry. A couple of hours pass and then he begins to see a fiery blaze in your cheeks.

His palm presses against your forehead. It is inferno-like in temperature. He pulls you out, rife with worry. You come to slowly, weakly rubbing the remnants of the sand from the corners of your eyes.

"Is it really 10:30 already?" Your voice sounds strange and nasal when you talk.

"No, my love. I felt it necessary to wake you; you are crimson."

He folds the cover back to give you some ventilation. The cooler air feels good on your skin.

"The meds must have worn off already," you reason dazedly.

"I think it would be wise if you drink some water."

He helps you to sit up. You take small sips as he rubs circles on your lower back, an action that never fails to induce relaxation inside you.

After you lay back down, you find the next 45 minutes to be agony. The pressure in your sinuses is making the roots of your teeth ache horribly. Involuntary twitches of your limbs shoot pain everywhere. Your temperature inches higher and higher, forcing you to throw off the covers entirely.

You whimper involuntarily as the random spasms become non-stop shudders and that is when you begin to feel tears leaking from your eyes.

Morpheus hates seeing you this way. You know it from how his gaze never strays from you, in the way he protectively strokes your face.

"I'm sorry." They are the only words you can muster right now with the brain fog that has taken hold.

"Why are you apologising? You did not choose to be unwell."

His words console you instantly. You could always rely on him to be the voice of reason.

You check your phone again. It was finally time for your next round of tablets.While waiting for the medication to kick in, you find that your mind starts to lose clarity and lucidity. Fever-induced images float eerily before your eyes; you screw them shut, hoping to sleep instead but you can’t because of frustrating cyclical thoughts.

A single lyric from a song you had been listening to yesterday repeats with sanity-robbing precision. More tears fall. Morpheus wipes them away.

"Can you make me sleep again?" You ask desperately.

***

Over the next couple of days, Morpheus uses his sand several times to ease you into slumber. It wrecks your sleep pattern, along with the daytime napping, however he reasons it is necessary for healing and allows it. He also takes care of you in other ways through refilling your water glass, bringing you food and steadying you while you brush your teeth and wash.

The depths of his patience and devotion were seemingly bottomless. You do not know what you would have done without him. When you tell him this, his usual composure slips and he turns an adorable, bashful pink.

At the end of the third day, you feel a marked change in your health. The fever breaks, taking the shudders and hallucinations with it. You are still weak, achy and mentally fuzzy but the difference is such a relief for you, and for your diligent partner.

When the evening draws in, you are finding it near-impossible to switch off with your broken circadian rhythm. Morpheus is reading a book by lamplight beside you; you place a hand on his to get his attention.

“Can you help me sleep, please?”

You look automatically to the pocket where he keeps his sand pouch. Morpheus places the book on the floor.

“Not this time, my love. You are much improved and you must learn to sleep on your own again.”

You worry your bottom lip. “I don't think I can.”

He smiles at you softly, moving a few stray strands of hair off your face. “You can. I believe in you.”

“But it's so easy when you use your sand. Effortless. It’s a nice change from the usual everyday exertions.”

Morpheus’ fingers languidly caress your cheeks. His bottomless blue eyes are full of wisdom and adoration.

“I find effort to be a reliable of gauge of whether something has purpose or meaning. Everything that is worth doing requires some kind of effort,” He has adopted the whispered tone that makes his sentences sound like lullabies.

“Annoyingly, I think you may be right,” you sigh.

He releases a satisfied noise at your agreement and he lies down beside you.

“Come here.”

He initiates a slow and deep kiss. You instinctively reach for his messy, silken hair and he clings to you in a similar fashion, both of you savouring the first proper intimacy you have been able to share in many days.

Pulling away, he rests his forehead against yours. You are flooded with oxytocin and all tension in your body melts away however, despite his best intentions, you feel more awake than ever.

“Morpheus?” Your voice is croaky.

“Yes?”

“I still can't sleep.”

He laughs a precious laugh. “Let us try a different approach then, my little insomniac.”

He gently rolls you over onto your side and positions himself flush against you.

“I want you to focus on me. Feel me holding you. The sensation of my arms cradling you. My palms on your abdomen. My chest against your back.”

You do as he says, already feeling hypnotised.

“Feel my breath on your skin. Hear my voice. Inhale my scent. Taste me on your lips.”

You let out a breathy, contented noise.

“You are safe here. You can relax. Just relax your body and your mind will follow. That's it. Drift across to the Dreaming. I'll meet you there.”

His coaxing is working. You feel so very tired now.

“I love you,” you say sleepily.

“I love you too.”

You manage one more sentence. “Thank you for looking after me.”

"Always."

You nuzzle further into his embrace. His mouth brushes against the shell of your ear.

“Sleep now, my love."

[cuubism]

Déjà vu, Déjà connu

Chapter 2/11. 9k. E, Sexual Content, Secret Identities, Romantic Tropes, Developing Relationship. The "what if Eleanor was actually Dream in disguise" fic.

Chapter 2 - Eleanor, Part I.

Dream runs into Hob in the waking world again. This time, he lets Hob's daydreams dictate the course of things, and gets just a little too close.

Read from the beginning on AO3

[ cover image: The Kiss by Edvard Munch ]

[mrdarcyifhewere21stcentury]

Show Me the Stars... Mr Sandman✨️

Rain lightly tapped on the window as it fell, dark clouds casting a dark atmosphere in the Dreaming. "Impressive... but can you make it rain sideways?" she said, turning to look at Dream as he stands by the wall.

Despite his cold exterior, he was inwardly smiling at this almost child-like question from her. Without a word, he did just as she asked. With a flick of his wrist, the rain suddenly turned to the side. "Satisfied?" He chuckled as he watched her look around in awe.

"Not completely..." Y/N said, looking at him. He really was handsome, she can't help but wonder what his lips would feel like against her own. Would they be soft? Taste sweet? She didn't expect to fall in love with as quickly as she did. She only met him a few months ago by sheer accident. Right time, right place. She had been friends with Johanna Constantine for most of her life and flatmates for the last four years. Y/N had gone to get pizza for the both of them when Dream had found Johanna through her dreams, and she quite literally almost walked into him when she came through the office door. She immediately felt something... a pull of some sort... but had brushed it off. He had felt the same but refused to even acknowledge it.

The walk to Rachel's, however, made him think that maybe she was more interesting than he originally thought. That's how these regular dream meetings began. He found himself drawn to her in ways he could not explain. Over the last few months, he realised that he was falling for her. She was beautiful, intelligent, strong, and not afraid to challenge him. Not only that, but her love for everyone around her shone through her actions. Y/N loved going that extra mile for others. Seeing someone smile made her smile. And Dream loved that.

"Tell me, what would make it completely satisfying for you...?" Dream breathed, slowly walking over to Y/N.

"Well.." Y/N hesitated, trying to find the right words.

"Yes?" He whispered. He was now in front of her, face inches from hers. Dream wanted nothing more than to take her face in his hands and kiss her like there was no tomorrow. But he wouldn't, not unless she made it clear that she too wanted that.

"Kiss me." Her voice low, eyes darting between his eyes and lips.

"Very well." And with that, his lips met hers. The second their lips connected he swore he could hear fates yell in joy in the distance. He mouth moved slowly against hers. Hands coming to her waist as he brought her impossiblely close. Y/N gave a content sigh, kissing him felt like a dream.

The kiss deepened as his hands carefully roamed lower...and lower. Y/N moaned as he bit her lower lip, begging for entrance to which she allowed. How could she not? She had dreamt of this for so long. "I love you Dream." She muttered against his lips, hands tangling in his messy locks, gently tugging at the strands which made Dream shudder and groan.

He pulled away by only a fraction, choosing to rest his forward against hers.

"I love you, Y/N. I have done for some time. Forgive me for taking so long to tell you. I could not be sure you felt the same, until now." His voice held so much love, his eyes full of adorable as his words reached her ears.

She couldn't help but kiss him again, this time more feverish and rough. Wanting to feel every part of him. Y/N grabbed his hand as she began walking back towards the house behind her. The house Dream had created for her in the Dreaming a few months ago. "Show me the stars, babe." She whispered against his lips. His fingers tightening around her hips.

Stumbling into the bedroom he had so meticulously crafted he immediately took control. He wanted her, she wanted him. Who was he to deny her?

"Gladly. I will fulfill every dream and fantasy you have and have had." Voice low and husky as he pushed her onto the bed. He gave her the hottest kiss she could ever have. His tongue exploring every inch of her mouth.

That night, he showed her the stars.