#morpheus x gn!reader

[writethrough]

Can I request a morpheus x reader where his s/o has curly/wavy hair? Or just reader being obsessed with touching his hair and he absolutely love it and he likes to do the same

Mid-Afternoon Dream

(Morpheus x Gender-Neutral Reader)

Synopsis: Morpheus enjoys his moment of peace with you.

Warnings: None

Word Count: 430

A/N: Thank you for being patient with me! I went with the second half of your idea since I like to try and keep Reader as up-to-interpretation as possible. I hope you enjoy!

You were lying on your couch, music playing softly from your record player. Spring was slowly shifting into summer, enough that you had opened your windows to feel the breeze drift through your home. 

The early afternoon rays filtered in, and everything seemed brighter and newer in that way only the warm weather brought. For this moment, everything was peaceful. 

Even Morpheus couldn’t find fault in it. Not when his head rested on your chest, and you were carding through his hair to the base of his neck. Your nails gently dragging down his scalp to the ends of his strands would’ve made him shiver if he were human. 

You’ve been like this for some time now, relaxing in each other's arms. It was a rare moment for the Dream King. He couldn’t recall the last time he had felt this content. Though, it’d been happening more frequently since he’d met you. 

When he’s working, his mind often wondered to you, what you were doing, when he would see you, it’d become ever the distraction—be it a welcomed one. 

He hummed as your nails traced his neck, and you giggled lightly. He squeezed your side in return. 

Never had he thought he’d let anyone see him like this, not after all those years in that cage. But there was something in you that called him. He could let his guard down around you. And it was easier than he thought. 

You opened your arms to him and all he had to do was step closer. 

You placed a kiss on the top of his head, pulling him from his thoughts. 

“Have I put the Sandman to sleep?” you teased. 

He answered with his eyes closed. “You are the only creature capable of such a feat.” 

“You deserve some rest.” He could hear your smile, but there was seriousness, too. It made him lift to his elbow to look at you. 

You stared at one another a few moments until you reached out a hand to cup his cheek. Your thumb grazed his skin reverently, seemingly amazed that he was before you now. 

The corner of your lips ticked up as you took him in. This otherworldly being that wasn’t really a being at all. He was too perfect. It only made sense that he was a concept, one that provided all with the ability to escape, to wrap themselves in imagination, to set themselves free. 

“My Dream,” you whispered, almost like you hadn’t meant to. 

His eyes softened. His own hand reached up to caress your hair. 

“My heart.” 

Tags: @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

Let me know if you want to be added to the list!

[roguelov]

Love Markings

Summary: Dream soon becomes worried when he cannot find you. You had not spoken to him in a day, and are nowhere to be found in the Dreaming. Needing to know, he corners Matthew only to get no straight answers, but new suspicions and tightly woven nerves. So, Dream takes it into his own hands and runs off to find you. When he gets to your apartment, you appear, but not as the same as he remembers you. You now have a new marking: a tattoo, but why?

Word Count: ~2.4k

Reader: Gender Neutral

Warnings: Mostly fluff, very minor angst (Dream worrying)

Requested by a wonderful anon

In a high vaulted grandiose throne room - with its looming columns on either side crafted with precision and artistry to the magnificent stained glass windows ahead which defied reality as they shifted in color and told their own stories - the reigning Lord and his peculiar raven were at odds, to put it plainly. A palpable tension had settled over the room, filling up every inch of the expansive space. It was suffocating, and nerve wracking. The Lord, Dream of the Endless or Morphues, glared heavily at his newest raven with searing hot daggers. The poor raven, Matthew, avidly avoided the Endless’s gaze, yet the heat was undeniable. The thought of possibly spontaneously combusting crossed Matthew’s mind.

And what caused such tension?

You.

Dream’s love.

Dream’s mortal love.

For over a day, you had been missing. However, it did not cross Morpheus’s mind until now. He was busy with the Dreaming, and with his newest dreams and nightmares. He didn’t realize your presence was gone until he reached a hand beside him only to be greeted with the empty cold space. Instantly, his thoughts spun wildly out of control. Were you hurt? In any sort of trouble? Were you upset with him? What possibly happened to you? He searched and searched and could not find you in the Dreaming, anywhere.

If anything had happened, he would blame himself for eternity. His spiraling thoughts would not be silenced until he saw your smiling face. And strangely when he vocalized his concerns about your whereabouts, his usually chatty raven clammed up.

Thus, the ungodly tension in the room.

Morpheus’s icy eyes, nearly glowing in the dim room, glared at Matthew. While Matthew stared down at the pristine stone floor rather than the being that transcended most known deities written throughout humanity’s history. “Matthew,” Morpheus asked slowly and evenly, although his voice boomed off of every surface, “are you not telling me something?”

“What? Me? Oh, no, I would never,” Matthew chuckled nervously.

Morpheus stepped forward, his boots clapped like thunder across the floor. “I shall tell you now it is unwise to hide things from me.”

Matthew shrunk and wearily glanced up. “It’s - it’s nothing, boss, really.”

Morpheus bent down, eyeing the raven, “I’ll ask again: where is (Y/N)?”

Matthew awkwardly shuffled side to side. “I - I don’t know.”

“Don’t know, or don’t care to say?”

“… it’s … well, it’s - uh … it’s complicated.” Matthew stumbled through his words, desperately trying not to reveal anything.

He made a promise to you to not tell. An idiotic, life-ruining promise.

“Matthew, I am begging you not to tell him. I want it to be a surprise,” you pleaded.

Matthew sighed, sinking lower to the ground. “Okay, okay, I will, but he won’t like it.”

You crouched down, meeting Matthew at eye level. You smiled gently. “Hey, it is just a small secret - barely a secret really - that you have to keep. All you have to do is lie about where I am. Easy.”

“Easy? He’s an Endless, doesn't he know everything? Seen everything? Wouldn’t he be like an automatic bullshit detector? How could I lie to him?”

You sighed, “It’s just for a few hours, and maybe you won’t have to lie at all. Maybe find a place to hide until it’s over, I’ll be in and out.”

Matthew grumbled.

“Matthew.” Gentle hands scooped under his talons, raising him up into the air. Matthew kept his head turned, unable and willing to look into your eyes. “Matthew, please.”

Matthw internally grimaced. One look of your pleading eyes and he would cave - much like your dear Morpheus. You captured not only the heart of the Endless, but all of those in the Dreaming. Very few were willing to say no to you. Yet, curiosity could be cruel, so Matthew snuck a glance out of the corner of his eye.

Having raised him to eye level, your eyes bore directly into him. Wide and pleading. Your eyebrows knitted together as a minuscule frown tugged on your lips. Matthew winced. Instantly, he was ensnared by you. He sighed regrettably, “Yeah, okay, I got you covered.”

An ecstatic smile broke out across your once grim face. “Thank you, Matthew, I promise I’ll bring you something back as a thank you. Fries? Sweets? I could even make you something.”

Matthew hummed, and smiled to himself. “If I survive the next couple of days, I would love some fries.”

“Deal.”

“Complicated, how?” Morpheus glared.

“I … I can’t say.”

Morpheus’s lips thinned. His patience was dwindling, immensely. “If (Y/N) is in some form of danger and you are unwilling to -“

“What?” Oh, this was taking a terrible turn. “No, no, god no. They are perfectly safe, I swear.”

“Then, what is it?” He asked through gritted teeth, enunciating each syllable.

“I, uh … um, how - how about you go find them yourself,” Matthew suggested, trying to dig himself out of this hole. “Go to their home, they are probably there.”

Right? They should be. Maybe? Matthew thought.

“Probably?”

“They are!” Matthew squeaked out. “They are home, or - or not. They could be out grocery shopping or you know maybe they went to get some food? Or other … things?”

Morpheus exhaled, needing to calm himself. “Fine. I will find them myself.”

Sand swirled around Morpheus once - like a magician’s trick with their cape - and he vanished, leaving Matthew alone in the now quiet, peaceful throne room. Matthew sighed, almost flopping over absolutely relieved to be out of such a mess.

Hopefully, (Y/N) can take it from here, Matthew thought before flying off - most likely to hide just in case Morpheus were to return.

With a swish of a curtain of sand, Morpheus arrived in your apartment and found it empty. Lifeless. He called out your name only to be greeted with silence. No response. His chest constricted; a spike of fear doused his pounding heart.

Where could they have gone, he thought wearily.

Luckily, his prayers were quickly answered by a resounding click of a lock in the eerie stillness, and the high pitched squeak of the front door opening. You strolled in, unaware of his presence, with a chirper smile. A smile that slowly eased the Endless’s fears, but a few still panicked questions lingered.

Where have you gone? Were you avoiding him? What happened? Did something happen? Were you okay?

You glanced over, and flinched - surprise and shock flashed over your features - at Morpheus’s somewhat ominous appearance. You placed a hand over your racing heart, and mumbled a few curses under your breath. “Morpheus? God, you scared the shit out of me, what are you doing here?”

He swiftly approached you in three easy strides. Concern evident on his usually stoic features. His eyes scanned over your face. He saw no injuries, no tells of any harm that may have possibly occurred. He internally sighed in relief. “I’m sorry I startled you, my love. I was worried something may have happened to you.”

Your surprise melted away as a smile crossed your lips. “I’m fine, there’s nothing to worry about.”

He frowned slightly. “Then where have you gone? You have been missing, and dare I say avoiding me, all day.”

You winced. “I know and I’m sorry. I really didn’t think you would get so worried.”

“I always worry.” He stepped closer, cupping your cheek with a single hand. “There are things out of my reach, things that may cause you harm in order to get to me.”

The Morningstar was one figure who came to mind, and he certainly wouldn’t put it past a few of his siblings to sow some chaos in his well crafted world.

You grabbed his wrist, and brought his hand to your lips. You gently kissed his knuckles, trying your best to soothe him. “I’m safe, okay? You don’t have to worry so much.”

His eyes dropped with a deep exhale. You were right. His heart, however, could not be so easily calmed.

You kissed his knuckles again. His sorrowful eyes, like an expansive ocean ready to swallow you up, connected back with yours. You smiled, a loving smile. Dropping his hand, you stepped away to begin to remove your coat. “I should have told you I would be out, but I wanted it to be a surprise.”

“Surprise?”

You turned around, and unzipped your coat. “I was hoping I could be in and out or Matthew could stall until I called you.”

Morpheus huffed, not hiding his displeasure. “Matthew did distract me, but also succeeded in irritating and worrying me more.”

You snorted. “Please, don’t be so hard on him, he was only doing what I asked him to do.”

“Asked him? I still don’t see why -“

His words instantly died on his lips as you finally hung up your coat and faced him. His eyes widened. He hesitantly approached your side in utter disbelief. Was that a tattoo? His fingers carefully reached out; they barely skimmed over the wrap - the second protective skin - which hugged your arm. You tensed slightly due to the dull soreness.

Morpheus, like lightning, yanked his fingers away. “I’m sorry I -“

You chuckled, waving him off. “I’m fine, I don’t break so easily. Here -“ you grabbed his hand and guided his fingers back to the fresh tattoo, letting him trace over the image now inked into your arm.

His index finger gently grazed over the outline of the black and white piece of art that covered most of your bicep. It depicted a raven, from the front, with its wings spread out as if in flight. Its head tilted upwards and to the side, high and proud. In its talons, it carried a familiar object - a helm resembling a twisted gas mask with hauntingly massive dark eyes. The tube, the chilling nozzle made of bones, curved down your arm. And it should be said that it was a lie that the tattoo was solely black and white. No, it had an ounce of vibrant color: a rich, dark ruby red. A necklace looped multiple times around the raven’s neck to ensure its safety, and an iconic ruby dangled in front of the raven’s chest, swaying on the nonexistent wind.

Morpheus traced over the raven and its wings as it curled around your arm, down to the geometrical ruby nearly in the center of the pieces, and down further to the helm and its nozzle as it weaved back and forth creating dynamic movement.

It was gorgeous.

His eyes drank in every inch, and continued to find to new details: the etches in the individual feathers creating a soft textured appearance, the highlights of the rivets and metal plating of the helm, the miniscule triangular design of the clasp which held the ruby, or the twinkle of life and mischief in the raven’s one eye. Peering closer, Morpheus’s eyes squinted in confusion. Surrounding the raven, near its proud head, were other outlines of raven, although much smaller and lacked such fine detail - as if soaring the background.

“They are your other ravens,” you said quietly, watching as he examined your tattoo. “I wanted to pay tribute to them.”

Morpheus’s eyes snapped up. “All of them?”

“Yes, all of them,” you smiled softly.

“… why?”

“Why as in why I added them?”

Morpheus shook his head. “Why did you do this?”

“Are you asking why people do things because of the people they love?”

His eyes widened as he leaned back, practically shocked by your rhetorical question.

You chuckled, and twisted around to face him directly. “I did it because I wanted to. I did it because I love you. I love you, and the Dreaming, and all the memories we have created together. And I wanted a reminder of all of it.”

His eyes fell back to the beautiful intricate, now permanent, art on your arm. “You … you did this because of me?”

“No, I did it because I like the feeling of needles jabbing into my skin.” Morpheus rolled his eyes, not entirely pleased by your sarcasm. You cupped his face, directing his eye back on yours. “Yes, I did it because of you. And maybe someday I’ll get more because of you or maybe I’ll just get other random pieces, who knows. But, this one will always be special; which is why it’s on my left side to be close to my heart.”

Morpheus’s eyes immediately softened. Adoration shone brightly. He reached up, brushing his knuckles across your cheek. “You truly did not have to do this.”

“Well, unfortunately it wasn't up to you. I wanted to do this. I thought about it for months and months until I finally decided I would go through with it.”

He chuckled lightly. “Then can I just say my thanks? To see I inspired such a beautiful piece -“ he placed his hand on top of yours, and turned his head to kiss the inside of your wrist directly over your pulse - “I am honored, greatly. My heart sings at the sight of it, and I love you more than ever.”

You smiled, bashfully.

“Come here.” He brought you closer, and passionately kissed your lips. You hummed as a giddy smile broke across your lips. He laughed and pulled away, smiling at you. A rare smile, like an eclipse and just as beautiful. “I believe I need to show you my love in return.”

You were completely lovestruck with him, just as he was for you. “Really?”

“Yes,” he cooed, pressing his lips to your neck.

You chuckled, feeling ticklish. “As much as I wish to continue, how about we just lay down for now?”

He lifted his head, gazing into your eyes. Fatigue now evident in your droopy eyes and hunched posture. “Tired, my love?”

“Absolutely exhausted.”

He kissed your forehead and took your hand, guiding you to the bedroom. “Then, let’s rest. We can talk more later.”

He swept you off into the bedroom. You unceremoniously collapsed into bed, welcomed by the sheets and pillows. Morpheus slowly draped himself beside you. You turned over, tossing him a lopsided smile. Throwing an arm around his waist, you drew him closer.

He smiled to himself. You truly were his entire world. His hand gently landed on your tattoo. He mindlessly began to trace the image; a new habit he was forming. Your eyes fluttered closed, lulled to sleep. “Sleep,” he muttered, “I’ll see you soon in the Dreaming.”

“I love you, Morpheus,” you whispered as you drifted off.

He kissed your forehead. “And I love you.”

[spideybatsy]

Masterlist

AO3

Bruce Wayne

A+B - Finished

Chapter One

Chapter Two

Chapter Three

Chapter Four

Chapter Five

Chapter Six

Chapter Seven

Chapter Eight

Late Night

Chapter One

Chapter Two

Jonathan Crane 

Ocean Eyes

Morpheus

Find Me

The Deal

[lady-pug]

say "night-ie night" and kiss me

Chapter I of Dream a Little Dream of Me

Summary: You keep on visiting a strange town, one you’ve never been to before. You wanted to know more, to know more why you were here and why you kept coming back, so you decide to do some exploring. Maybe you could start with the castle on the outskirts of the town.

Pairing: Morpheus | Dream of the Endless x Reader

Word count: 1,3k

Warnings: none

Notes: This is me trying my hand at writing something with very little dialogue, relying on heavy descriptions. I don’t really know if this is a good strategy, but I ended up liking it a lot so decided to keep it like that. The descriptions are heavily based on Vincent Van Gogh’s ‘Starry Night’ and ‘Starry Night Over the Rhône’, and also the song ‘Dream a Little Dream of Me’, performed by Ella Fitzgerald and Louis Armstrong.

I really hope you, dear reader, enjoy this story, and if you spot any mistakes, please feel free to warn me and I'll correct it right away, and feedback is always welcome and appreciated.

Reader's gender not specified

Next part | Masterlist | Read on AO3

The breeze was soft on your skin. Warm and cold at the same time, enveloping you like a loving embrace. Above your head, the stars shone brightly against the dark blue profound sky, paired with the chirping of a few birds perched on a tree somewhere nearby. 

You had never been here before. That is before a few weeks back when you started coming here on the regular. The problem is: you had no idea where ‘here’ was. Every night you’d come here, to this small town bathed in starlight, and wander around aimlessly, no actual destination in mind. Small houses littered the cobble stoned streets, a tidy church near a café as your point of reference. Once you even traveled far enough to find yourself at the side of a river, the street lights reflected on the surface along with the stars. A couple wearing hats, holding hands and standing near two sailing boats, smiled and waved at you as if they had known you your entire life.

It honestly felt like someone transported you into one of Van Gogh’s paintings. You once even passed by a vendor selling sunflowers. Most of the people seemed to recognize you, but you had no clue what their names were. Most seemed friendly enough, a few looked like they were a second away from ripping all your possessions from your hands, and some, although less frequently, stared at you with sneers of disdain, as if they were proud to know something you didn’t.

Today was no different.

The lovely lady at the café near the church waved at you, her bright smile putting you at ease. You walked down the street, sending the old man at the bar a quick wave, prompting a friendly wink back your way. You might not truly understand where you were, but you’ve come to appreciate it. A constant in a life full of uncertainty was a nice change for once.

When you reached the school, most kids turning in their seats to eye you curiously through the windows, you decided to take a different route. Walking through a maze of alleyways and larger streets, seeing less and less people each corner you turned, eventually led you to a deserted road, no houses bordering the hillside. 

Strange. 

Glancing upwards to the top of the slope had you feeling something new, a mixture of dread and curiosity. A tall, dark and ominous structure, shaped like a castle, stood high and mighty before you, almost like it was overlooking the city. How come you had never noticed it before in all your visits? You balanced your options, curiosity overcoming the dread, and started the track up the hill, the stars as your sole companions.

You walked, and walked, and walked. Something didn’t seem particularly right. Glancing down at your feet, you noticed the stones under them, differently from what happened around town, were all the same. A sense of nausea had you looking up again, only to notice the castle seemed to be the same distance as before. That was impossible, however, as you had walked for several long minutes. Staring straight ahead you tried walking, running even, but the more effort you made, the further away the castle seemed to get.

Suddenly the wind picked up, a swoosh of air coming from above, like a flutter of wings. No, it wasn’t the wind. A raven was flying over your head, past you and towards the castle that stood tall in the dark.

That feeling of dread returned tenfold, making you turn on your heels and start running down the same way you came. You ran, overexerting your lungs, legs burning as adrenaline pumped in your veins. The sound of your sneakers hitting the stone pavement was the only sound you could hear along with your rapid breathing and the thumping of your heart right in your ears. You didn’t stop until you were back inside the café, in the safety of what was known to you. Well, relatively known.

“Oh, dear.” the friendly lady, who happened to be the owner of the establishment, turned to you when you came to a halt in the middle of the place, hands holding your knees as you tried to regain your breath, a concerned expression crossing her eyes “Are you quite alright?”

When you didn’t answer right away, still shaken from your encounter with the mysterious castle, she led you to one of the tables, sitting you down on a wooden chair.

“I’ll bring you some water to calm your nerves, what do you say?” she smiled, trying to send a wave of calmness your way “Or perhaps you’d like some coffee? I have just brewed some. On the house.”

You smiled at her kindness. 

“A coffee would be nice, please.”

She went out back to retrieve your drink and left you alone with your racing heart, its beating yet to slow down. The hairs on your arms and on the back of your neck stood up, and the looming sense that someone was watching you consumed you whole. Looking around the café you were met with the same people who you always saw when walking by: a couple out on a date, an elderly woman with a small dog on her lap, a man in a hat who looked like he hadn’t slept in days, a man dressed in all black… wait, that was new. 

You looked back towards the man and sure enough, he was staring right at you. Pale complexion and light eyes, the man was dressed in black clothes, a long overcoat completing the look. His sharp jaw and high cheekbones made him look powerful, almost regal in a sense, and dare you say… beautiful. The only thing about him that softened his features was his dark, messy hair. He seemed like someone important, imponent, but for some reason he didn’t scare you. You almost felt… peaceful in his presence. 

Your thoughts about the man were cut short when a large ceramic cup filled to the brim was placed in front of you.

“Here you go, dear. A nice cup of fresh coffee should do you some good.”

“Thank you.” she started walking away when you called her, catching her attention “Hey, uh, excuse me?”

She nodded for you to continue.

“What is that castle at the edge of town?”

“What castle, dear?” she asked, confusion lacing her tone.

“The tall dark one at the top of a hill.”

Her eyes narrowed slightly, as if assessing to see if you weren’t playing tricks on her.

“There is nothing around the city other than mountains on one side and the river on the other.” she smiled again “Why don’t you drink your coffee, dear, before it gets cold. I’m sure you’ll feel better afterwards.”

As she walked away once again you were left to wonder. Had you imagined it? No, you were pretty sure you had seen a castle. And a raven. You couldn’t possibly have imagined that, now… could you?

Taking a sip of your coffee, you almost spat it right back out. It tasted awful, it tasted like… nothing. It was hot, sure, but it had absolutely no taste whatsoever. You took another larger sip, at the risk of burning both your tongue and your throat, and still nothing. You couldn’t taste anything. Bringing the cup under your nose you frowned. It smelled like coffee, strongly so. If it smelled like coffee, looked like coffee and was warm like coffee, why didn’t it taste like coffee?

Raising your head, you were about to call the owner again to ask about the tasteless coffee when you noticed the same man from earlier still looking at you. His eyes were mischievous, his lips only barely tilted up in what seemed like the world's tiniest smirk. 

Narrowing your eyes at him you went to stand up and confront him, ask him why he wouldn’t quit his staring. Your abruptness made his face harden again, a hand raising under his chin. You only managed to take one shaky step in his direction before, with a snap of his fingers and something uttered under his breath, you were sitting up with a startled gasp on your bed.

Dream.

It was all just a dream.

[swanimagines]

MELODY OF THE NIGHT | MORPHEUS

Summary: You've been distancing yourself from Morpheus, because you know he's an Endless and can't be romantically involved with humans, but you can't bear being with him while knowing you can't have him. He comes over to your house and demands to know what's the matter. It ends unexpectedly.

It had been weeks. You had known it was forbidden for Endless to be romantically involved with mortals, but your stupid heart had still developed feelings for him. It had been too painful to endure, so you willed yourself not to visit The Dreaming anymore, and avoided Morpheus in your dreams as well - not that you actually had the power to do that, but Morpheus knew when someone didn't want him to appear so he didn't.

When your doorbell had rang, you had to admit that you hadn't expected who was on the other side of the door, even when it should have been obvious. Morpheus stood there, looking as gorgeous as always. Compared to you - messy hair, looking like you didn't sleep properly, in your t-shirt and sweatpants.

"Hi, um... sorry, I'm kind of busy here," you mumbled to him, not really even looking at him.

Morpheus sighed, clearly knowing it was a lie. "May I come in?"

It wasn't really a question, but you still nodded. He came into your apartment and closed the door behind himself. You tapped your tea mug nervously as you stood in front of him. You didn't know what to say to him, really. You were embarrassed, angry, and frustrated all at once. Your emotions made you feel out of control, which in turn only increased your frustration and your embarrassment.

"I do not understand why you will not talk to me," Morpheus said, his voice soft. He looked hurt, or maybe just disappointed.

His words hit you like a hammer. You took a deep breath. "Because I... I just... I can't visit you anymore."

He frowned. "Why?"

"I don't want to talk about it." you replied quickly. If you told him, you knew he'd sigh and explain what could happen. He would also say he doesn't love you back.

This time, Morpheus didn't press any further, but he did look upset. He stayed silent after that for several minutes. Eventually, he spoke again. "Did I do something wrong?"

"No!" you exclaimed. You shook your head, trying to get some of your thoughts together. "No, it's... it's me."

Morpheus moved closer to you. "Then why..."

"Just leave me alone," you snapped. "I told you I don't want to talk about it, and I mean it."

"But-" he started, but you cut him off.

"Dream, please, stop," you pleaded. "You've already caused enough trouble by showing up here. Just go away."

"I do not understand," he whispered. "What happened?"

"Nothing happened," you muttered. "And I can't let anything to happen, I can't control... just leave me alone."

Morpheus seemed truly confused now. He didn't seem angry, though, and he didn't argue. He just continued to stare at you, his expression unreadable. "You are one of the first humans I consider a friend. I need to know-"

Next thing you didn't even think about doing. Your feelings just rushed forward, spilling over and you grabbed his coat and tugged him close and pressed your lips against his.

Morpheus froze, just as you had expected and you pulled back before he had a chance to, breaking off the kiss. You stared into his eyes, panting slightly. "This is why I've been avoiding you," your voice broke mid-sentence, tears now cascading over your cheeks. "I know it's wrong, we can't be together."

"What?" Morpheus asked, bewildered.

"I love you," you admitted. It felt like the hardest sentence you ever uttered. "I can't keep it in, I just keep thinking about how I want to wake up with you, and I dream about you all the time, and I hate myself for feeling this way. I ruined our friendship the moment I developed those feelings for you, and I'm sorry, but I can't stop loving you, and I can't bear to see your disappointment in me."

Morpheus stared at you for a long moment, watching you sniffling in front of him, before you felt a hand sliding down your cheek and wiping away your tears. "Where did you hear we could not be together?" he asked, gently.

"I... I found it in a book. You had fallen in love with a woman named Nada and the Sun punished her for it."

Morpheus was quiet as he thought about that. "It is true," he then said. "But rules have changed since then. You are not allowed to rule The Dreaming with me or marry me until you are dead, but I am allowed to love you."

His words echoed in your head for a moment before you registered them, and looked up at him. "What?"

"I have loved you ever since we first met," he explained. "I cannot help it. I will never stop. Even if you stop talking to me, even if you stop visiting me, I will always love you. I needed to know if I can fix our friendship, but I did not know you feel the same way about me, and that is why you stopped visiting me."

You blinked at him, almost thinking this was a dream... or at least a daydream. But it felt too real to be one - and in dreams, you knew Morpheus would be controlling what he'd say."

"So you love me?" you asked hesitantly.

Morpheus nodded. "Yes. Yes, I do love you."

You stared at him for a few moments longer, unsure what to say, before you felt your lips growing into a wide smile. "Well, I love you too," you said, pressing another kiss on his lips, and this time, he returned it.

And on that moment, you knew it - this was going to work. Even though it was a risk to love him, you were willing to take it - because you believed he deserved your love more than anyone else in the world.

---

Requests are always open! FANDOM LIST | PROMPT LIST(S) | RULES (READ!!!)

[lady-phasma]

Requests open for Daemon Targaryen, Feyd-Rautha, and IWTV. Asks open for all listed and Doctor Who.

✧︎ Interview with the Vampire ✧︎ Feyd-Rautha ✧︎ Daemon ✧︎ Aemond ​✧︎ Other ✧︎ WIP Masterlist ✧︎ HotD Headcanon ✧︎

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Spotlight:

Fangtober Day 5 - Impact play - Lestat x fem!reader

New Fangtober Day 4 - Bondage - Armand x fem!reader

Fangtober Day 3 - Ejaculation - Rockstar!Lestat x fem!reader

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Armand N$FW Alphabet

cross posting from Lady_Phasma on AO3

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[hopelessrromantix]

Okay, but sandman is SO GOOD. Maybe the reader being good friends with Morpheus and getting secret admirer notes delivered by ravens? And obviously Morpheus has Absolutely no idea who might be writing these letters to his friend. No, the ravens look nothing like *his* ravens. He has no idea what you are talking about.

I AGREE anyway more sandman reqs pls

(reader is personification of Love)

If you didn’t know Dream of the Endless as well as you did, you would’ve been insulted.

Sending love notes?

To Love?

Usually notes to you were full of empty promises and false feelings. But did he truly think sending a love note would give him any sort of anonymity? You could practically feel the love soaking the page the second the paper touched your hand. And though the letters were only signed “One Who Loves You” you weren’t as oblivious as Dream seemed to think.

In the beautiful, intricate realm that you ruled over, full of your beloved roses and the array of other lovely flowers, a jet black raven stood out. Especially when the people of your realm knew their ruler was friends with an Endless known for his ravens. Plus, they loved gossiping about you and Morpheus.

Echoing footsteps brought your attention down the steps of your throne to the entryway.

“Eros. What news?” You questioned, recognizing the man at the door.

He was one of your most trustworthy cupids and he'd been working with you ever since you created him. He was shorter than you, but obviously very physically strong.

“Ah, well…” He trailed off a bit before he was interrupted by a caw, a pair of black wings entering your throne room. “... he sent another, your majesty.”

“I can see that,” You hummed. You held out your arm, silently giving permission for the bird to land on you and hand over the letter in its mouth. “I take it I still don’t get to know who these are from?” You asked, your tone light.

“Nope. Sorry, uh, your highness.”

You laughed at the bird (it hadn’t even told you it’s name). “Princes are ‘highness’, you mean ‘your majesty’.” You joked, smirking at the alarm that flashed through its eyes.

“Right. Knew that. Sorry, your majesty.”

“Love works just fine, my dear.” You waved off his apology, letting him fly off.

“You’re still playing along, my lord?” Eros questioned, a wide smirk on his freckled face.

You chuckled. “It’s sweet, don’t you think?” You unraveled the tied letter, your eyes scanning the scrawled text. “‘Your features steal the breath from my body and your words the heart from my chest.’ I don’t think even I could write better.” You smiled. Morpheus was not a man you imagined would pour his heart out like this, but in fairness, maybe he really did think you didn’t know.

You could hear Eros mumbling under his breath. “You only think so because you love him… your grace.”

You sighed. Love could drive people mad, you were very good at it. But when you were the one in love, it didn’t seem quite so mad.

“You dislike him?”

“I dislike his pathetic idea that Love themself is not capable of knowing who sends ravens to their doorstep.” You raised a brow at him. “Your eminence.”

You rolled your eyes. “I don’t care about the title, Eros.” You huffed, smiling at your second in command. “He’s not pathetic, he’s in love. Love makes everyone just a bit dizzy, hm?”

“You mean love makes everyone pathetic?”

“Love only makes you pathetic if you ignore it. So how about I give Morpheus a push.”

"Dream Lord." You greeted, nodding as he entered one of the many rooms in your Haven.

"Love."

You smirked at the formality.

You laid back against the rather dramatic chaise you owned, the blood red color complimenting the robes you wore.

He took a seat on one of the chairs by your legs, the deep color contrasting his pale skin. He looked beautiful.

You swung your legs around, leaning toward him on the seat. "You know, you are my closest friend, Morpheus." You began, dropping the titles.

"A position I hold with pride, Y/n."

He was always charming for a man so cold.

“As such I must confess to you, I’ve been receiving love letters as of late.” You watched him tense slightly, a movement you doubted anyone else would be able to catch.

Your finger met his thigh, tracing whatever patterns came to mind. “Don’t you always?” He questioned.

“These ones are special.” You smirked, your eyes glimmering as you felt the familiar feeling of love in the air. “They’re beautiful. Written by someone who’s fallen in love with me.”

He smirked to himself, “Doesn’t everyone who writes you say the same things?”

You nodded and sighed, letting your cheek rest on his thigh, internally smiling at the way he instantly froze. “They’re never truly in love with me. Just the concept of Love itself. But these letters, whoever writes them truly loves me.”

“And what do you think of them?” His attempt to question you, clearly struggling on where to put one of his hands. You helped him out eventually, grabbing it and holding it in your own.

“I think they’ve insulted me greatly.”

“Insulted you?”

You didn’t miss the worried look in his eye. You could feel how fast his heart beat, how the love persisted, but fear tainted it.

“Yes,” You sighed, allowing the panic to seep in a second longer. Perhaps you were a bit petty that Morpheus didn’t think you were strong enough to sense when someone was in love with you. You were Love itself, after all. Plus, not many deities were known for their talking ravens.

“And how have they managed this?” He questioned, his voice quieter than before.

“For some reason, they have assumed that I, Love themself, cannot sense when someone loves me.”

“I see.” He opened his mouth to say more but you stood up from the chair, now standing over the man before you.

You brought a hand up to his chin, fingers tilting his head up to look at you. You felt the rush of love in the room, love he had attempted not to show. “Only the overconfident or the hopelessly romantic send letters to Love,” you explained. “Tell me, Dream of the Endless, which are you?”

“Me?” He questioned. Perhaps he was too shocked by your question, but you wondered if he really didn’t think you knew.

“Did you think a raven flying through my palace wouldn't start up rumors? Besides, even now I can feel your love pulsing beneath your skin.” His eyes left yours, feeling less confident under your gaze. “You really thought I wouldn’t recognize someone in love?”

"I meant no offense," he nervously clarified. You chuckled at his tone, far less commanding than you usually saw from the Dream King.

"I know you didn't, Morpheus." You reassured, smiling down at him. "If I loved you any less I might have been upset."

You watched as your statement set in, his demeanor softening. The relief in his soul was palpable.

You gripped his chin softly, still tilting his head up to face you. His skin was warm against your fingers, the love he held for you burning just beneath the surface.

"You return my feelings?"

"‘Your features steal the breath from my body and your words the heart from my chest'." You smiled softly, watching him melt into your hand. "That is what your most recent letter said, correct?"

He only nodded, too caught between how softly you held him and how lovingly you looked down at him.

"Will you kiss me?"

"Only if you let me love you."

"I'd be a fool if I didn't."

[thoughtsfromlayla]

"Lover Dove" Dream of the Endless Drabble

Summary: Cuddling with Dream

Notes: ~350 words. This came to me in a dream... I'm touch starved y'all

Warnings: None, pure fluff

Masterlist

“Stop, that tickles,” You murmur into his skin. Sleep rests heavily on your eyes, but knowing that you are dreaming doesn’t take much. 

"Forgive me, dove," He apologizes using his favorite pet name for you. The skin under you deflates as he sighs but stops tracing his fingers across your shoulders. You fall back asleep against his chest's rhythmic rise and fall. You're sure Dream doesn’t need to breathe, but the idea that he does so for your comfort makes you smile. 

The waking world has not been kind to you, so the serenity of simply sharing a bed with Morpheus, skin-to-skin, is well deserved. He is warm and cool all the same, you don’t need to have a blanket over you to warm you up, he does it simply by being close. Yet his skin is marble smooth and cooling when you lay your head on his chest. 

He shifts underneath you and you let out a sound of dissatisfaction.

“Nooo,” You whine out, stubbornly keeping your eyes closed and holding to his torso harder. 

“I know, but you have to wake up soon. The sun is rising.” He says against your hair. 

“Must I?” You rebuttal weakly. 

Morpheus doesn’t entertain you with an answer for a while, simply basking in the energies of each other.

“You must face the day ahead. Even if you do not want to, but I will be here, waiting for you to come.”

Your eyes open slowly to see him already looking at you. He props himself on his elbow and brushes the hair away from your face. 

“I will be here, waiting for you,” He promises again. 

His hands brush against your chest, near your lower ribs and a tingling sensation follows. You turn to the standing mirror in his chambers and look at yourself. Two new markings decorated your skin each one on each part under your chest.

“Dove” one read and the other one “Lover”

“Morpheus,” You breathe out as you run your fingers over the markings. 

He comes up behind you, placing a kiss on your shoulder.

“Good morning, my love. This dream is over.” 

[7-wonders]

Wishful Drinking

Morpheus/Dream of the Endless x GN!Reader

Summary: After Morpheus cruelly dismisses you, you decide that you'll get back at him by staying out of the Dreaming one night for as long as you can. What you don't anticipate is letting your feelings get the best of you and getting very drunk instead.

Or, drunk shenanigans galore!

Word Count: 3.5k

Author's Note: I don't know what this is, y'all. I haven't written anything in more than a month, and it was so tough to even write this, but I wanted to write SOMETHING. As always, hope you enjoyed, let me know your thoughts, and likes, comments, and reblogs make my world go round.

ALSO! Dream logic applies here, in that you're still drunk when you reach the Dreaming.

Listen.

You know that certain coping mechanisms, like, say, going out clubbing with your friends and getting crazy drunk for the first time in a long time, aren’t exactly healthy. But things have been difficult for you lately! You’ve been struggling a lot, in both your professional and personal life. These hardships are only compounded by the fact that the one person (or person-shaped being) in your life that you thought you could count on, your Morpheus, has been too busy to have time for you.

Literally. He said those exact words to you a mere three days ago, when you had found him in his personal study (a study that he almost never used) after what felt like a day spent chasing him around the Dreaming. You meant for it to come out as teasing when you took note of the fact that you hardly saw him around lately and that it felt like he was purposefully avoiding you, but he had sighed and glared at you before saying, “I have much to do, and I am far too busy to entertain you right now.”

You glowered, but, as he said, he was too busy to see it. Fine, you thought as you turned around and stalked out of his study. Leave him to his business. 

Cut to today. When your friends asked if you wanted to go out with them, you almost said no, having gotten accustomed in the past couple of months to the routine of going to bed by nine o’clock in order to maximize time spent in your lover’s realm. But then, the more you thought about it, the more you realized that you didn’t want to just continue sitting around in the Dreaming and hoping that Morphues would come out of whatever funk he was in. After all, why should you make an effort when he won’t? You’re not about to beg for his attention.

With that in mind, you texted back that you very much wanted to go out with them and proceeded to get ready for a fun night out.

The plan was to have a couple of drinks, dance for a bit, and stay out of the Dreaming just long enough to make Morpheus sweat a bit.

But then shots had been ordered.

And your friend bought you a drink because they knew you had had a tough week.

And you bought yourself two drinks.

And a group of guys bought you another round of shots, and though you all laughed at the fact that they were not getting anything out of this, you still took them because you weren’t about to turn down free alcohol.

This leads to you and your friends stumbling out of a bar at two in the morning, holding each other up as you do. Definitely not the plan, but what’s that one quote about plans and mice and men?

“What about a mouse?” your friend asks from beside you, making you realize that you said that out loud.

“Don’ worry ‘bout it,” you say.

Somehow, you make it into a Lyft (thank the gods for friends who don’t get carried away), and somehow, you make it into your home. Not without its difficulties–you dropped your keys multiple times on the walk to your front door, and there might be a you-shaped indent in the entryway wall from where you fell into it when trying to kick your shoes off. 

When you reach your bedroom, you decide that actually, the floor looks comfier than your bed does. You’re so drunk that the room feels like it’s spinning when you lay down, and you close your eyes to enjoy the ride.

“Fuck, I’m so drunk right now,” you say out loud, laughing at the sound of your slurred words.

You don’t mean to fall asleep, really. You know that you need to crawl to the bathroom to wash your face and find enough dexterity to change clothes before hopefully sobering up just enough that you can make it to the kitchen to grab painkillers and water for the inevitable killer hangover you’re going to have tomorrow. The floor is just so soft, though, and you work yourself into a trance-like state by staring up at the ceiling fan and watching it go around and around and around. On one blink, you’re staring at your ceiling.

And on the next, you’re staring at another ceiling, one that’s not really a ceiling at all, but an entire galaxy above your head.

It’s easy to get lost in the magnificent colors swirling above you (especially in your current state), and you do, until you hear someone calling your name. When you look away from the universe, you see the love of your life looking at you, though at present, he is not reciprocating the heart eyes that you are always looking at him with.

“Where have you been?” Morpheus demands.

“Morpheus, my love!” You throw your arms out and grin. “I’ve missed you.”

“Do you have any idea how worried I have been? I sent Matthew to find you hours ago when first you were late, only for him to report that he could not find you at your home.” You’re a little surprised that Matthew hadn’t managed to track you down; your little raven friend was almost scarily good at finding people/places/things.

“Aw, you’ve missed me?” It makes sense, of course; after all, you’ve missed him, so it’s only natural that he would miss you in return. Still, the sentiment makes you feel all warm and melty on the inside.

 It’s obvious to anybody who actually takes the time to know Morpheus—a tiny list of people and beings, two of whom are in the room with him right now—that he’s fighting a war between wanting to scold you and wanting to hold you and check you up and down for wounds. Morpheus crosses the room towards you, and you ready yourself for the inevitable lecture you’re about to get, about how you’re just a fragile little human and he worries every moment that you’re away from him (y’know, now that you have the clarity of a drunk person, you’re actually annoyed that this is constantly coming from the being that’s meant to be your lover).

But that’s not what happens.

Instead, you find his arms wrapped tightly around you and his face buried in your neck. He’s hugging you, not the other way around. He’s never done such a thing before, and you don’t know how to react. What you do know is that any of the residual anger you had been feeling drains out of you like water from an unstoppered bathtub. You really didn’t think that being away for—the math isn’t mathing for you currently, and you don’t actually know how long it’s been—a couple of hours would affect him this much.

“You are the one most dear to my heart,” he mutters into your ear, cognizant of the fact that you are not alone in this throne room. “Of course, I missed you.”

“Oh. When you said you were ‘too busy to entertain’ me, I just kinda assumed you wouldn’t notice I was gone.” Though you don’t mean to weaponize your words, the poison darts make contact with their target anyway, and Morpheus stiffens in your hold.

“Are you alright?” he asks instead, choosing to wait until a later time to have this particular conversation.

“Aw, dream boy” you coo, snaking a hand up to clumsily run it through his hair. “I’m okay baby, swear it! Like, absolutely, one hundred percent fine.”

Morpheus pulls away from you so that he can look you up and down to confirm that you really are okay. “You smell like a pub,” he notes. 

“How can you tell that in the Dreaming?”

He ignores your question when a realization seems to hit him. “Are you inebriated?”

“No, I’m drunk,” you correct very matter-of-factly.

“That is–” he stops, choosing instead to just shake his head.

“Oh, dear,” Lucienne mutters from behind Morpheus, reminding you of her presence in the first place.

“Lucienne! Hi! How have you been!” 

You crane around Morpheus to be able to see your favorite librarian, but you almost fall over in the process. Before you can tip too far over, Morpheus is there to right you again. When he does, he looks down at you with quite the serious expression on his perfect face.

“Who did this to you?” he asks, ready to punish whoever put you in such a state.

“Vodka. Rum, maybe?” You think back on your drinks for the evening, though it’s hard to think back that far. “Yeah, the second round of shots was definitely rum.”

“You put yourself in this state?”

“Yes?” Has Morpheus never heard of the concept of going out and getting shitfaced with your pals? “To be fair, I didn’t think that my drunkenness would…” You search for the word that you want to use, but it’s just not coming to you! “Uh, carry over?”

“Please tell me you managed to make it home safely?”

You nod. “Sure did! Pretty sure I fell asleep on the floor, though.”

Lucienne slowly begins to back up towards the door, and Morpheus stares at you for a long moment before sighing heavily.

“Are you mad at me?” you ask nervously, starting to get upset the longer the silence drags on. Did you say something that you shouldn’t have? Is there a rule you don’t know about against sleeping on floors?

Instead of answering you, Morpheus waves a hand in the air and says, “This dream is over.” 

You’re awake and once again staring up at your ceiling fan, only this time, Morpheus is also in your line of sight. It’s impossible to stop yourself from touching him when you’re sober, so it’s not at all surprising that your hands go up to caress his face now when you’re drunk.

“Hi cutie,” you greet, laughing in delight when he flushes just the slightest amount.

He grabs your hands and kisses the back of both before setting them against your chest. “Why are you sleeping on your floor?”

“Because,” is your simple, childish reply.

“That is not a good answer.”

“It’s the one you get because it’s the one I have.” You throw in a peace sign to be extra spicy, but Morpheus, unfortunately, doesn’t comprehend your 21st-century humor, and instead just segues into the next order of business.

“Might I help you up, so that we can get you properly ready for bed?”

“But I’m comfy,” you groan. Morpheus is not buying what you’re selling, unfortunately, so you sigh. “Fine.”

Morpheus holds his hands out for you to take and helps you to your feet. Too fast, apparently, because the room begins to spin and your stomach tilts dangerously, making you clap a hand over your mouth.

“Oh no. Dizzy, dizzy, dizzy,” you chant, squeezing your eyes shut and laying your head against Morpheus’s shoulder while you try to breathe through sudden nausea. You will not throw up on your super hot eldritch nightmare king boyfriend, you command yourself. Not tonight, and not ever.

“What is wrong?” Morpheus sounds panicked, and you want to reassure him, but you hold up a finger in the meantime.

When the nausea finally passes, you take a deep breath and slowly look up. “Okay, I think I’m good now.”

“Are you sure?”

“I’m sure. Sometimes drinking too much combined with moving too fast makes people feel sick. It’s my fault, but I’ll be okay.”

“Are you well enough to move?”

“Yes, I promise.” 

To prove your point, you let go of his hand and start walking heel to toe as the police require during field sobriety tests (honestly, you’re a little surprised that you can actually do this right now). You can practically feel your lover's amusement behind you, but it proves to him that you are capable. Morpheus lets you walk to the bathroom on your own power, and you think the only reason he doesn’t sweep you off your feet is because he’s worried you’ll throw up if he does. He watches you intently the entire time, though. 

You sit on the lip of the bathtub, watching Morpheus move about your bathroom as though he knows where everything is; he probably does, you realize, whether it be from that endless wealth of knowledge about everyone and everything that he possesses, or just his familiarity with your home. After rummaging around for a few moments, he comes back with a washcloth and your favorite pajamas. The sight of the familiar material makes you tear up, and you sniffle loudly.

Morpheus looks up in alarm. “Are you okay?”

“You remembered my favorite pajamas,” you say, trying to not start crying. You can count on one hand the number of times he’s come directly to see you off to his realm, and you’ve probably worn those pajamas twice. Yet he remembered the one-off comment you had made about how they were your favorite because of course he did.

His face softens. “Of course I did.”

You clear your throat and wipe your eyes. “Sorry. I’m okay! Just drunk.”

Morpheus hands you said pajamas before turning the faucet on and letting the water run. He seems to realize something after a moment and looks at you helplessly. “I do not feel temperature as you do. Is the water alright?” 

You grin and stick your hand under the faucet, moving the tap just a smidge hotter before nodding at him. “It’s good now. Thank you for asking.”

He begins to run the damp washcloth gently over your face, a barely-there smile appearing on his own when you wrinkle your nose at the cool sensations. Where this situation would be awkward with anybody else, it feels entirely natural with Morpheus. You’ll take these little moments of domesticity with him whenever you can get them, even when you’re still half drunk.

Even if you wanted to, you can’t hold yourself back from saying, “You’re so beautiful, do you know that? Seriously, you’re the prettiest man-slash-anthropomorphic-personification I’ve ever seen in my entire life.” The words are heavy on your tongue, but you’re pretty proud of the way you only barely stumble through ‘anthropomorphic’.

“You are still under the influence,” he notes.

“So? Drunk words equal sober thoughts, right?”

“‘A drunk mind speaks a sober heart.’ Jean-Jacques Rosseau,” he supplies.

“Sure, that. I’d tell you how pretty you are even if I was sober, and you know that.”

“Perhaps.” He says it in that infuriatingly sexy way of his, the one that makes you want to tear his clothes off.

Instead, you’re the one taking your own clothes off, though not for any fun reason. Getting changed is not as difficult a task as it would have been when you first arrived home, with the benefit of time naturally sobering one up on your side. Morpheus still keeps a hand held out, just in case you lose your balance and need something to grab onto, but after you’ve finished changing, that hand slips under your shirt and caresses your side.

“Thought you were supposed to be helping me keep my clothes on,” you say with a shiver, grabbing his wrist and pulling the offending extremity out from under your shirt.

“Apologies.” His tone implies that he’s not sorry at all, not that you would want him to be. “I simply couldn’t resist.”

He looks down at you with so much love in those blue eyes of his that you feel like you don’t think your mortal mind could ever truly comprehend it. Nobody has ever loved you the way that Morpheus has—all-consuming and passionate. He told you once that many of his relationships had ended because he had been seen as too intense, too obsessive in his love. Bring it on, you had told him when he expected you to back down. To date, you haven’t regretted that.

You don’t think you ever will.

Now that you can see the end of your night in sight, tiredness begins to seep into your bones. Though your bed is just right through the bathroom door, it feels miles away. With that in mind, you ask,  “Will you carry me?” 

“Were you not worried that you would feel sick?”

“Yeah, but I’m tired.” You pout (on purpose because you know what it does to him), and you can practically see his resolve break. “Just be careful?”

“Always,” he promises.

And careful he is, slowly picking you up and waiting until you nod to carry you to your bed. He sets you down gently, You’re thrilled to see a glass of water already waiting for you on your bedside table, Morpheus anticipating your needs before you’ve even realized you have them in the first place.

Crawling under the covers after finishing your water, you motion for Morpheus to sit next to you on the bed. He does as you ask, and you move your pillows so that you can sit up and lean on him. When you’re comfortable, you say, “Thank you for everything tonight. I know taking care of me wasn’t what you had planned.”

“You need not thank me. I enjoy caring for you, no matter the situation.” 

Your eyes flutter closed at the sensation of his hand carding through your hair, and you start to feel yourself inching closer to the Dreaming. Something keeps you from truly falling asleep, though, and when Morpheus shifts next to you, you realize what it is: the conversation’s not over. Morpheus is trying to figure out how to say what it is he wants to say.

Finally, he figures it out. “Might I ask you something?”

You open your eyes to give him your full attention and nod.

“Earlier, when you seemed surprised that I had noticed your absence. Did you do this,” ‘this’ being getting very drunk, “because of what I said?”

“No. I mean, I went out because I was mad at you, and I figured that me being a couple of hours late would make you learn your lesson, but I got drunk because I wanted to have fun with my friends and let loose.”

“And did you?”

“Maybe a little too much,” you admit cheekily.

“I apologize for my harsh words the other day. I have been…feeling burdened under the weight of my realm, and I took it out on you for no reason.”

“It’s okay, Morpheus. You’re busy running an entire realm and overseeing the collective unconscious. I shouldn’t be so needy.”

He shakes his head. “It is not okay. I should never talk to you in such a way, and you should never feel as though I do not want you around. I do want you around, always.”

“People say things that they don’t mean. That doesn’t mean they’re not worthy of forgiveness. But you gotta talk to me, okay? When you’re feeling stressed, or when things get to be too much. I’m here for you, and I want to support you however I can.”

“I love you,” he says. The fact that he’s being so open with his emotions is a pleasant surprise; it took him so long to be the first to say it, and even longer to be comfortable with it. You smile up at him.

“I love you, too. Stay with me until I fall asleep?”

“Of course.”

Morpheus turns your bedroom light off without you needing to ask (seriously, you love him so much), and you close your eyes. Then, a thought hits you.

“Hey,” you say, staring up at him in the dark and waiting until he looks at you to continue. “Can you get drunk?”

“No.”

“Why not? I mean, isn’t there special alcohol for preternatural beings? You’d think gods and goddesses would’ve figured out a way to get turnt by now.”

Though he doesn’t want to give in to your rambling when you’re meant to be trying to fall asleep, he can’t help but indulge you. “Gods and goddesses can. We, the Endless, cannot.”

“What? That’s so fucking lame. No. That’s–that’s an injustice! I’m so sorry.

“I promise, it is okay. Now, please go to sleep.”

You nod, but close your eyes for maybe thirty seconds before they snap open again with a realization. “Wait.”

“What?”

“You mentioned other gods and goddesses. How many are there? Are they all real? Is actual God real? I mean, I know the devil is real, you kicked their ass for your helm, but for some reason that’s more believable than–”

“Go. To. Sleep,” Morpheus commands.

“Ugh, you’re no fun!”

“I am not afraid to use my sand if need be.”

“You wouldn’t.” You raise an eyebrow in challenge, and he raises one right back. After a brief stalemate, you’re the first to give in. “You have to understand how world-altering this information is to a regular human like me, I mean–”

You’re asleep before your head hits the pillow.

[maxispixels]

HANDPICKED

PART FIVE.

Hobie Brown x GN!Reader

1.4k words

You work at a flower shop in late 70s London and Hobie's being a menace. Slowburn? Probably will be around 10 parts. Strangers to reluctant acquaintances to friends to something more. Maybe a lil' messy?

Part one. Part two. Part three. Part four. Part five. Part six. Part seven. Part eight.

You forgot to ask his name. Again. You let him leave the shop and you didn't ask his name.

You rolled in your bed, holding your pillow on your chest, feeling all foolish. When did he start getting to you so much? Probably the beginning. This idiot’s mysterious act got you good, you thought.

Finding sleep had become a difficult task. Your mind was plagued with warm thoughts of him, while your body was desperately cold from the lack of functioning heating. Especially as the weather reporters announced this winter as one of the coldest in the decade.

The news was pretty depressing, with one sordid headline after another. You stopped reading the articles in detail. It was killing your spirits, and frankly you didn't need that. People were out on the streets, demonstrations increasingly frequent and violent. The whole atmosphere of the city had changed for the worst.

Your teeth chattered a little as you turned in your heavy blanket, a bottle filled with hot water resting to your feet.

Your eyelids finally grew heavy as a familiar silhouette filled your mind. That had become a regular thing as you fell asleep, his face haunting you. You didn't even fight it anymore, letting the memory of his voice echo in your mind and lull you to sleep. 

The night had been restless, filled with honking, police sirens, the distant screams and chants of protesters. You wondered if he went to that kind of event. Probably. The thought twisted your stomach—not just because it was dangerous, but because you didn’t want to imagine him as part of the chaos you tried so hard to shut out.

When morning light seeped through your curtains, you were reluctantly pulled out of Morpheus’ arms. You had to face a new day, and you really didn't want to, feeling the exhaustion adding up. It was a bit early — not early enough that you’d have time to fall asleep, but enough that you had extra time. After getting your breakfast of choice, you reached for your sketchbook.

At first, you didn’t notice anything unusual—just your own messy sketches of his face. Then you saw it: unfamiliar handwriting scrawled next to the portraits, on yellow sticky notes, careful not to ruin any of your pages. Your breath caught as you read the first line. ‘Basically forgot me, huh?’ Your eyes widened as you stared at the sloppy ink.

‘looks like the only thing you forgot is the shape of my nose’ You could hear the smugness in his voice just reading this. 

This handwriting was messy but legible, he mixed uppercase and lowercase letters inconsistently. 

Next to the pressed flowers, another note, reading ‘you kept them’,  and at the end of the couple of pages filled with his portraits, he added, ‘flattered to be your muse.’

You felt the embarrassment grow in your stomach, bearing its ugly head. You didn’t know what scared you more—that he’d never show up again, or that he would.

It was signed with his name. You swallowed as you read it. Hobie. You repeated it to the walls of your home, tasting his name on your tongue, letting it twirl in your mouth like a wine connoisseur. 

You couldn't figure out the taste. And before you knew it, you had to leave and go to work. 

There was quite a mess in the street leading to the flower shop. Ashes from stuff burning during the night, trash all over, bins laying on the ground, glass scattered from broken front windows and the smell of sulfur in the air. 

It filled you with growing unease, your guts twisting as you reached the shop. It seemed that this stretch of street had been spared the wrath of the protestors. You sighed as you unlocked the door, the sound of your keys melting into that of the bell above the door.

You did the bare minimum, only switching the water before going to sit behind the counter, not feeling like doing anything of substance.

Soon, Hobie came in. Much earlier than any other time, which was weird. You didn’t expect him. He gave you a familiar wave and none of you mentioned the sketchbook book. 

He looked like he had gone through a war or something, his eye bags somehow even deeper, the hollow of his cheeks more defined. He gave you a smile, making your stomach do the familiar flip of… intimidation, yeah, that’s the word. Definitely intimidated by that gentle smile and mug.

You wondered if he’d been out there last night, caught in the chaos. Maybe that’s where the exhaustion came from.

He sat down on the floor, his back against the wall. He had curled up in the corner beside you, hidden from view. You looked down at him from the height of your stool. It gave you a new point of you, you never saw him from this angle. 

“Comfortable?” You finally broke the silence.

“Very much.”

You had no idea what he was doing, but you didn’t ask. You think that’s why he kept coming back. Ever since the funeral incident, you learned not to be too curious. He’d talk if he wanted to.

At this point, you assumed this had become his resting place, warm and cosy. You wondered if he had that comfort elsewhere.

“Want some tea?” You offered.

“...Yeah, I'll have a cuppa.”

You stood up and headed for the back of the store, turning on the light. You almost sneezed at the amount of dust. Yep, this needed cleaning too. 

You plugged the kettle in and let the tea infuse. You grabbed two porcelain cups from Rose, the delicate gold lining and flower paintings fitting the shop’s atmosphere. All of it was such an old lady thing.

You came and handed him one. He nodded and you two drank in silence.

The tea was comforting, for sure, its aroma spilling in the air and meddling with the sweet scent of flowers. It was hot on your tongue and warm against the palms of your hands, which was always welcomed in that climate.

You glanced at his form on the ground. He looked quite funny, all punk and scary, holding the small, delicate porcelain. It looked like a little girl’s toy in his large, scarred hands.

You weren’t sure whether it was the cuppa or his presence that gave you energy, but you eventually started to take care of some potted plants, tending to the soil.

You heard him follow behind at some point, watching you do some work as if it was a common form of entertainment. 

“You’ve got a bit of dirt on your cheek.”

“Oh. Thanks.” You wiped it off with the back of your hand.

“Wait, no! Don't take it off. Adds character.”

You narrowed your eyes at him. “What?..”

“You look like you've been in a flower fight. It’s very avant-garde.” He grinned down at you.

“...” You glared up. “I’m going to ignore that because you look like you’ve been in an actual fight.”

He just laughed at that.

Soon though, you were both back behind the counter, as he took that warm spot in the corner. He looked quite relaxed, like he could doze off anytime.

You took care of the occasional customer, and Hobie kept it quiet this time. You were still a little mad at how good his last suggestion was, and a little more afraid of just how good he was at slipping into your life.

As the evening crept in, the cloudy sky darkened a little. You watched the last customer leave, happy as can be, holding a big bouquet of roses. You were a little envious of those people with places to be and company waiting for them.

You looked at the clock. Time to close. You expected him to stand and stretch like he had somewhere to be, but he didn’t move. You stood and turned around the ‘open’ sign to ‘closed’. You also turned off the warm lights, letting the last bits of sunlight peak through the cloud to shine yellow rectangles on the old waxed floor. 

“You’re still here,” you said softly, barely a question.

He tilted his head, the corner of his lip lifting up in that familiar smirk. “Guess I am.” 

There was something in his tone, neither apologetic or teasing, instead weirdly honest. He didn’t seem in a rush to go, and for once, you didn’t feel the urge to make him.

You dragged yourself back across the shop and eyed him in his cosy corner. You plopped down next to him, tucking your knees under your chin. He didn’t say anything, nor did he tease you for your choice of seating. You didn’t notice he moved until you felt the comfortably heavy weight of his arms around your shoulders. He smelled of old leather, sweat and pine. 

Without thinking, you leaned into him. Wordless, the moment stretched. You didn't feel the need to question anything.

You could get used to this.

Part six.

[lichenes]

PLEASEEE do a nsfw fic of reader and vincent having a big fight with some make up smut 🙈🙈🙈🙈🙈

Thank you for the ask :D Second time writing smut bear with me. CW: arguing (brief), p in v, riding, NSFW Vincent Renzi x gn!reader wc: 621 _____✿°•∘ɷ∘•°✿ … ✿°•∘ɷ∘•°✿ … ✿°•∘ɷ∘•°✿ … ✿°•∘ɷ∘•°✿____

"Fine!" you shouted, red from anger. He groaned rolling his eyes and threw his hands in the air. "Why can't you just listen, sacrebleu!". You ran into your bedroom and slammed the door hoping he would leave you alone for now. Vincent though, was right behind you, opening the door and leaning against the frame of the door.

You sat on your bed your face covered with your hands, the tears in your eyes threatening to spill. "Chéri..." he said unsure of what to do next to prevent further rows. You choked back a sob and looked at him, tears already streaming down your face. "I'm... I'm sorry." You said already forgetting what you were squabbling about.

"Oh mon cœur." Vincent paused and sat down next to you on the bed. "Ma déesse." You looked up at him to say something but the only thing that came out was a sob. He put his arm around you as if to protect you from all the evils of the world, even himself.

You sat like this for a long while attempting to calm your breathing and stop shaking. Through all of this, Vincent put his head to your head and gently kissed your scalp, behaving as if you were made out of porcelain. With his calming demeanor enveloping you, you quickly forgot what it was that you were arguing about.

You both always prefered to talk things through. Rows were your last course of action. But Vincent came back tired from work and you were feeling particularly exhausted from your activities, one thing led to another and you were at eachothers throats.

"Forgive me." He sighed content with your douce form. "I know you don't mean those things." You nodded you head, still feeling a little dizzy. He got up assuring you he was returning soon and brought with him a glass of water for you to rehydrate yourself after crying.

You gave him back the glass after drinking its contents and he put it on the night stand. "Do you need anything else?" He caressed your cheek and gazed at you lovingly. "...you."

Vincent was laying on his back, his head propped up by a pillow. His hands on your hips moving along with your own pace. "Oh mon amour..." he groaned, his eyes fluttering shut. "Don't stop." Vincent commanded.

You were riding him as fervently as if it were your first time. The only thing at the forefront of your mind was making him come to make up for the argument. "Baby, baby... slow... slow...".

"I need you Vincent." You said your voice laced with nothing but pure lust. "I know, I know sunshine, just keep going and you get your prize." You whined as he thrust up into you clearly losing himself in you rythmic movements. Allowing him to breathe for a moment you stopped your movement and immediately slammed yourself down on him, chasing your own high.

"Good... g-god" he breathed out. Your faster movement made you both come in no time. You collapsed onto his chest. You both were heaving and trying to regain your composure. He stayed inside of you even after your breathing got slower and calmer.

"Chéri?" He asked after a short while but you just nuzzled your face into his chest refusing to move. He chuckled lightly and decided on letting you stay on top of him a moment longer. Not long after that you drifted to off to sleep.

You woke up dreading having to get up but when you regained your sentience you already were dressed in clean clothes and being cuddled by Vincent. You sighed contently and got embraced by Morpheus once more. How grateful you were to have him.

_____✿°•∘ɷ∘•°✿ … ✿°•∘ɷ∘•°✿ … ✿°•∘ɷ∘•°✿ … ✿°•∘ɷ∘•°✿____ masterlist

[writethrough]

The Sandman Collection

The Collections

I do not permit anyone to copy, repost, and/or share my work anywhere, translated or otherwise. However, please feel free to like, comment, and reblog!

All rights to the media and characters below belong to the original creators and writers.

ONE SHOTS

Hiding In Plain Sight (Morpheus x Fem!Reader) ⊹ Helping Morpheus and the Dreaming has been the highlight of your night since you met him. When he notices your presence missing, the Dream King discovers that your eagerness conceals something he should've known.

A Homemade Remedy (Morpheus x Fem!Reader) ⊹ After days of dealing with your sickness by yourself, you give in and call your boyfriend, hoping he'll come.

How to Mistakenly Summon An Ancient Being & Keep Him (Morpheus x Fem!Reader) ⊹ You're an insomniac and have exhausted all other avenues to help you sleep except one. What happens when that one brings you the King of Dreams?

I Am Yours, Are You Mine (Morpheus x Fem!Reader) ⊹ Morpheus' jealousy rises when he sees you with another man.

Kitty Comforts (Morpheus x GN!Reader) ⊹ You've had a bad day, and the thought of being around another body doesn't sit right with you. Morpheus comforts you in a way only he can.

Leather & Liner (Morpheus x GN!Reader) ⊹ You put eyeliner and Morpheus, and maybe an extra little embellishment.

Mid-Afternoon Dream (Morpheus x GN!Reader) ⊹ Morpheus enjoys his moment of peace with you.

The Physicality of Sitcoms (Morpheus x Fem!Reader) ⊹ You watch a sitcom with Morpheus and discover something interesting.

Softly (Morpheus x GN!Reader) ⊹ You're busy with a late night, and Morpheus coaxes you to bed.

To Dream of Magic (Morpheus x Fem!Reader) ⊹ On one fateful day, you unknowingly heal Dream of the Endless' raven. He must thank you for your kindness.

What A Luxury It Is to Have You (Morpheus x GN!Reader) ⊹ When you meet Morpheus, it doesn't take long for you to realize your dreams are real, and that means your nightmares are, too. They can hurt you if they catch you. The only way to make sure that never happens is to not fall asleep. Morpheus reassures you.

With Power Comes Misunderstandings (Morpheus x Fem!Reader) ⊹ When Morpheus is late for your date, the only explanation is that someone's tried to harm him because of you—Supergirl's and Lena Luthor's daughter. After all, why else would they want your completely normal, powerless boyfriend?

MULTI-PART

The Accident That Led Me to You (Part I / Part II) (Morpheus x Fem!Reader) ⊹ A car accident gives you the ability to see Death whenever she's around. Months later, you see Morpheus for the first time. He notices you right away.

The Diviner (Morpheus x Prophetess!Reader)

BONUS CONTENT

Valentine's Day Date

[kpopgirlbtssvt]

AHH MORPHEUS YOU ADORABLE ADORABLE MAN!!! THE WAY I AM GIGGLING AND KICKING MY FEET AND BLUSHING RN

@gh0stsp1d3r @dragon-kazansky

Green-Eyed Monster

Summary: While Morpheus takes care of the Dreaming, you find yourself enjoying a past time of yours: finding and cuddling cats of the Dreaming. It was a fun and innocent game. Or it was. One day, Morpheus spots you with a cat in your lap and strangely becomes jealous. So, how will he solve this? By becoming a cat himself, of course.

Word Count: ~2.6k

Reader: Gender Neutral (not explicit)

Warning: Some minor jealousy, mostly fluff, light teasing and suggestive hints in the end

Requested by the amazing @dreamstatednightmare

Morpheus - the sole provider of the Dreaming and all of its residents - was obviously a busy man. His attention constantly pulled in every direction from ensuring dreams and nightmares were doing their duties, to aiding whoever asked, and to keeping the Dreaming afloat and in perfect order. For the Dreaming was a cog in the cosmic wheel which was of utmost importance, its effects rippled out to all realms.

You understood this greatly, Morpheus had responsibilities that came first, and that never bothered you. In fact, because of such reasons, whenever you visited the Dreaming you created a game for yourself. There were many wondrous, unimaginable things to see and do in the Dreaming, but strangely you noted all the mundane things. Things you could easily see in the Waking, things such as the occasional house cat trotting around the palace.

Did Morpheus have an affinity for cats? Or did cats have an affinity for Dream of the Endless?

You supposed it didn’t matter.

When Morpheus had business to attend to, you would go ‘hunt’ for cats. You would stroll throughout the palace, and its grounds - sometimes even venturing into Fiddler’s Green - to find a cat. To your surprise, it was quite easy. In minutes, you would find yourself tucked under a tree, or on a bench, with a cat in your lap and possibly another walking around. You would sit for what seemed to be hours mindlessly petting it, listening to its calming purring, or coo at the furry stray. You would even tell stories to them, be it fictional or from your own life.

You enjoyed this little game of yours.

So, when you visited the Dreaming tonight, you found yourself in a portion of the palace's lustrous gardens - the rose garden. The rose bushes stretched tall and wide as a thick wall, forming an extravagant labyrinth to get lost in. Roses of all colors bloomed from a pure innocent white to a dark red dripping with a passion. Yet, you sat on the outer edges under a tree; the tree had iridescent green leaves and glass like flowers hidden in the foliage. The sunlight always shined above, sending prisms of splintering rainbows all over. But, despite such beauties, you were here for a simpler reason. You smiled as you spotted a shadow again up ahead in the rose bushes. A distinct shadow you came to know well - a feline shadow.

You gently called out, “Come on out, I promise I won’t hurt you.”

Pale green eyes - almost yellow in the sunlight - peered out from behind the leaves. Its eyes nearly blended into the mess of various greens.

You smiled kindly, extending out your hand towards it.

A reddish brown nose poked out.

Back in the palace, specifically in the royal library, Morpheus rose from a chair away from the long thin table. “If there is nothing else, Lucienne, I would like to take my leave for the day,” he said.

Lucienne closed her journal, which now had a completed checklist written inside, and looked up at her lord. “Everything has been accounted for and addressed, sire.”

“Good. I will be leaving, but if anything arises do call.”

“Of course, my lord.” She nodded and began tidying up all the documents scattered over the table top. With new dreams and nightmares being created, space for them was now needed. The Dreaming was under minor maintenance and readjustments.

Morpheus scanned over the documents and blueprints, feeling satisfied with the solutions. His eyes flickered to Lucienne as she piled up the papers. “And do rest, Lucienne, you deserve it.”

Lucienne blinked then smiled softly. “I will, thank you.”

Morphues nodded, then strolled out of the library. The second the door clicked behind him, his thoughts instantly went to you. Where could you have run off to this time? He wished he could offer more of his time to you. His heart ached, knowing you were alone. You swore it never bothered you. However, it bothered him. Immensely. Surely, the Dreaming would take care of you; you could find entertainment anywhere and never grow bored.

But.

But, he wanted to be there. He wanted to show you wonders. In the end, however, he could not divide his attention so easily.

He sighed to himself, walking out to the grounds of the palace. You said you wouldn’t stray too far.

“Oh, look how lovely you are.”

Morpheus’s footsteps faltered. He twisted around to locate your voice. Under one of the trees bathed in rainbows, there you were. You sat cross-legged on the soft patch of grass with your back pressed against the trunk of the tree.

He moved to call out to you, almost believing you were speaking to him, when a cat - a brown tabby cat - slowly walked towards you.

You cooed as the cat reached you and you began scratching behind her ears.

Morpheus oddly felt himself deflate.

The cat purred, leaning into your touch. Smiling, you whispered praises. You ran a finger over the dark stripes, softly tracing over the somewhat misshapen ‘M’ on her forehead. The cat closed her eyes, tilting her head back loving every second.

You chuckled. “Do you like that?”

At the sound of your laughter, such a sweet sound, a dark cloud began to form over the King of Dreams’ head.

You scratched the tabby’s cream colored chin, and your smile widened as her purring grew louder. The cat pushed her head into your hand, grateful for every ounce of affection you were giving. When her pale green eyes opened, she seemed as if she was smiling up at you. Her eyes twinkled. Then, without warning, she hopped into your lap, curling into a ball.

“God, you are adorable,” you whispered, giddily.

She rolled onto her back, peering up at you. You wiggled your fingers in front of her face and she meowed and batted at them. You laughed, loud and wholeheartedly.

Morpheus’s jaw clenched.

Why? Why did anger worm into his heart over such a small insignificant creature?

His eyes locked onto you. You peered down at the feline. Your fingers carefully caressed over her head and down her back. So delicate, so loving. A sickly green clouded his vision. He craved your attention after such a grueling day, and to see a cat be the prize of such affection? Jealousy and disgust filled him. How dare this creature tread on what was his?

He did not think twice.

He stepped forward.

His mortal figure withered away into a cloud of glimmering yellow sand. Each drop quietly scattered across the ground, like hushed bells. As the cloud shrunk, a black long hair cat strolled out. His gaze landed on you, or more accurately the stray in your lap. With his head held high, he walked over while his tail flickered side to side.

The tabby cat perked up her head, noticing Morphues first.

Morpheus, with his unnaturally bright blue eyes, locked eyes with the cat. Disgust and hatred written plainly in his eyes. The cat pinned her ears back and swiftly leapt out of your lap, sprinting off back into the rose bushes.

“Well, what got into her?” You asked, confused.

You glanced over to where the cat was looking earlier, before her grand escape, only to spot a new cat. The gorgeous all black cat had a regal air about him as he approached you. You shrugged off the other cat’s peculiar behavior. Smiling at the black cat, you stretched out your hand in a welcoming gesture. “Hello there, little one.”

The cat sniffed your hand only once before pushing his head into your hand. Your smile widened. He seemed to like you more than any other cat you met. The cat purred and instantly jumped into your lap.

You laughed. “Okay, make yourself at home.”

The cat looked up at you with such beautiful blue - and somehow familiar - eyes. You started scratching the top of his head, and he sunk down into your lap. His tail happily swished back and forth.

Morpheus could not deny how heavenly this all felt.

“You are truly a beautiful cat,” you hummed. “And so soft too.”

Your fingers carded through his fluffy, cotton candy like fur. You wanted to bury your face in his fur. Oh, it was so warm too, like a gentle hug, soothing and welcoming. Another sense of familiarity tickled in the back of your mind. The texture, to some extent, but the color reminded you of -

It clicked.

You huffed through your nose, amused. You continued to scratch behind his ears. He snuggled deeper into your lap, purring constantly and nonstop.

“I know it’s you, love,” you whispered. The cat jerked his head up, staring up at you with those endless oceanic eyes. You ran a finger from his nose over his forehead. You bent down kissing the top of his head, over the smoothed out fur. “So, now I am left wondering why you have taken the form of a cat? Care to explain, Morpheus.”

Morpheus stared, silently. Does he dare say the reasoning? Does he keep up the charade?

You scratched under his chin. He immediately closed his eyes, and began purring once again.

You snickered. “Is that why you are like this? To be scratched? To be pampered?”

Morpheus’s eyes shot open. He huffed, partially annoyed; be it at you for the accuracy of your questions or himself for acting this way, he did not know why.

“Or to be cooed at?” You teased. “My sweet, adorable Morpheus.”

Morpheus turned his head, holding it up high. Now, that was ridiculous.

“Oh come on, you came to me like this.” Your hand ran down his back through his midnight fur. “You clearly wanted this.”

Morpheus peered out of the corner of his eye to you.

A smile graced your lips. Brilliant and beautiful.

His heart skipped.

Maybe, this was enough. The charade was clearly over.

He leapt out of your lap. In mid air, a tornado of shadows and golden sand swirled tightly around Morpheus’s tiny feline figure. It grew bigger and wider in the air. In a span of a few seconds, black boots landed firmly on the ground. The sand wisped away twinkling like distant stars, and Morpheus stood above you back in his mortal form.

“Aw, did you have enough already?” You tossed him a cheeky smile.

Morpheus rolled his eyes as he tried to hide an amused smile. Despite your teasing, he could not help but smile when you smiled. Even if the reasoning was at his own expense.

“So?” You hummed.

Morpheus raised an eyebrow.

“Care you explain why you greeted me as a cat?”

Morpheus’s lips thinned. Apparently, anger was still heavy on his chest. Anger and embarrassment. He glanced away, avoiding your gaze. He looked to where the other cat scampered off, luckily she had not shown her face again. He was thankful for that.

You stared at him, silently dissecting him. Morpheus was always one to close himself off to negative, unsavory emotions. Yet, despite his efforts, you could read him fairly well. Your eyes followed his gaze towards the rose bushes, to the exact spot the tabby cat darted into.

“Was it the cat?” You asked, starting to pull at the thread.

Morpheus tensed. He slowly turned his attention back to you. His silence was your answer.

You snorted. “Morpheus, were you jealous of a cat?”

“No,” he quickly answered. Far too quickly, it only confirmed your suspicions.

You laughed. Standing up, you leaned in towards Morpheus. “You were jealous of a measly little cat.”

Morpheus huffed.

“Now, why would you be jealous? It is only a cat, Morpheus.”

“A cat which has garnered all of your affection.” He fired back.

You blinked then shook your head, still smiling. “It is a cat, it has not ‘garnered all of my affection’.”

Morpheus grumbled. “Then why shower it with any affection at all? Why not seek out my company instead?”

Your smile softened. Here is the true problem. You reached up with one hand and cupped his face. “Because, you are busy and I do not want to disturb you.”

He placed his hand on top of yours. “I know, but I wish you would. You do not have to be out here finding entertainment in strays.”

“But, I like it.”

He frowned.

“It is just a game, Morpheus. An innocent game of finding cats while I wait for you.” You stroked his cheek with your thumb. “It’s honestly relaxing and a bit fun, you should join me sometime.”

Morpheus frown deepened. That was possibly the last thing he wished to do.

“Oh, don’t be like that. A few cats cannot steal my heart, okay? And you know why?”

Morpheus stared. You silently prompted him to ask, to play along. He shook his head, but his lips slowly tugged back into a smile. “Why?”

“Because you already have it.”

He blinked. Your eyes shone with adoration, such beautiful eyes. He sighed, leaning into your touch. What a fool I am, he thought. His hand curled around your wrist, wishing to stay like this. “Apologies, love,” he muttered, “it seems I have let my emotions get the best of me.”

Not the first time, you jokingly thought. “It’s okay.”

He turned his head, kissing the inside of your wrist. “I think I may have a solution for our limited time apart.”

“Oh?”

“Would it be inappropriate to ask you to join me occasionally while I work? It could also provide an opportunity to show you all of the Dreaming.”

You smiled. “I would be honored.”

He returned the smile. “I hope you do not grow bored during such frivolous tasks.”

“I don’t think I will, and maybe I can help you. It could speed up the process.”

“Perhaps.”

With your free hand, you brushed back strands of his messy raven hair. “I just want you to know if you want my attention,” you leaned in pecking his lips, “just ask for it.”

Morpheus’s hands skimmed down your body, wrapping around you. “Is that so?” He whispered, playfully.

“It is.” You smirked, “You don’t have to go through crazy shenanigans like turning into a cat.”

He laughed once. “I suppose not.”

“But,” you began. Morpheus cocked his head curiously. Your arms fell over his shoulders as your fingers started to play with the edges of his hair. Your smirk grew, and your eyes twinkled with mischief. “But, you may not get any work done with me around.”

“Oh, really?” He leaned in, matching your smirk.

You hummed. “I may want all your attention to myself, I may become a distraction.”

Morpheus’s lips brushed over yours. “A welcoming distraction if ever.”

You chuckled. “How about we take this elsewhere? Maybe inside before another cat comes prancing in to ‘garner’ my affection.”

Morpheus had to suppress a groan. “I will not love this down, will I?”

“No, you will not. You were quite cute as a cat.” You kissed him - fleeting, but oh so loving. “But not as cute as you are now.”

He shook his head, but still smiled.

You took his hands, guiding him towards the palace. “If you want my affection, then let me show you how much you mean to me, my sweet king.”

Smiling, he tugged you back towards him, pressing you firmly up against him. His lips brushed over the shell of your ear. “Only if I get to return the favor, my love.”

You laughed as Morpheus quickly took the lead. He nearly rushed back inside, now knowing he will have your fullest attention - the thing he always craves.

[hwaightme]

Feel alive

(masterlist) (taglist)

🌑 pairing: strictland!seonghwa x gn!singer!reader 🌑 genre: fluff, angst, dystopian, sci-fi, noir, music, lovers to enemies to lovers 🌑 summary: after escaping the confines of prestige academy you find yourself singing at 'morpheus' - an underground bar and club for strictland outcasts. except this reality, too, crumbles before you. your fate is again in the hands of the same man, and you are forced to ask yourself: what does it mean to 'feel alive'? 🌑 wordcount: 9.5k total 🌑 warnings/tags: semi-edited, authoritarian regime (strictland/z/universe z), lore-inspired, guns/gunshots, implied attack on club, implied violence, crime, alcohol/drinking, implied organised criminal networks, discussions about death/murder/execution, nihilism/existentialism, 'bout as dark as the diary entries, long lost lovers, starcrossed, hope, blue bird, jazz, uprisings 🌑 taglist: at the bottom of the fic 🌑 a/n: noir hwa, ateez synthwave song quartet, and lore ponderings. hope you enjoyed <3 any notes, reblogs, comments, asks are always welcome! much love!

The lights dimmed, and it was as if the jazz bar never existed in the first place. The worn seats occupied by drunks who liked to pretend they had taste, sofas in the far corner reserved for big shots and well-established scum with pretty young accessories on either arm, the bar that sold everything under the rays of the dying sun and evil moon, it all disappeared with the dawn of the spotlight falling upon your alluring silhouette. A simple, yet elegant sleek black dress with a hint of shimmer that graced your curves seemed to shine in the glimmering illumination. The delicate silver accessories were stars in the hypnotising sky, the allure of an unreachable universe becoming overwhelming as your hands glided over the length of the microphone to find purchase on the stand. The music, starting from a low rumble, was an echo of the abyss surrounding you, manifested only at the softest inhale. After what could have been the drums and trumpet, or could have been the heavens announcing the beautiful singer’s presence finished their spontaneous introduction, Seonghwa had the pleasure of forgetting his purpose, at least for as long as the song lasted. He could drift into a sultry paradise, seduced by what had to be a siren’s call, and regard the customers of the Morpheus bar with something less than loathing.

As soon as he cleared the last of the russet coloured drink he had ordered in one gulp and set the glass down on the bar, shutting his eyes momentarily to focus on the warmth of the alcohol running down his throat, Seonghwa found the fingers of his right hand softly drumming out the song in accompaniment, each digit hitting one note, another, again and again. Back in the day, it had not been often that his visits to the bar occurred at the same time as the one and only Y/N’s performances, but when they did, he swore he could see the smog clear and tomorrow become a certainty. The music consumed him whole and even though he knew down to the second when the magic would be extinguished, a part of him still retained the hope that the spell would never be broken. Not when the only encore he could guarantee for himself was another torturous raid on an establishment such as this one, or another feverish witch hunt for those who had regained their ability to feel and to think freely. All in the name of a faceless leader who even Seonghwa himself had only met a handful of times despite being in a high ranking position of Guardian Inspector - above the standard white-clad machines, above the so-called officials clad in military uniform, he was in charge of ‘keeping civil hands clean’. At what cost? Perhaps his own emotions were the price.

The dark-haired man caught himself wondering how many people in this bar could enjoy themselves to the fullest. How many of these poor unfortunate souls that succumbed to the rush for easy money and easy love were true followers of hedonism, and were spending their days in an enviable bliss? Biting his lower lip, Seonghwa regarded his surroundings with a subtle scorn. He was well aware that he was to blame for it all too; The regime, to retain the ultimate, unwavering control over the citizens, even those who wholeheartedly believed they were well-hidden from the authoritarian judgement, was a supplier of one of the many pleasures after all - toying with people's weakness before the formidable seven sins only to lead them into full submission. The Strictland government, despite propagating ‘human emotion being a disease’ had anything anyone could ever desire, and Seonghwa was one of the many agents to guarantee long term partnerships, addiction to the illusion of a better life, and most importantly, stability and security for the people who had taken him in all that time ago when no one else would, and had given him a chance. 

While he was the bringer of demise, the counter of profits drenched in crushing dread and the hand of twisted and subjective justice, at the same time, Seonghwa believed that it gave him all the more right to judge the society he was a part of. After all, he was not the one being fooled. Inevitably, his glimmering orbs settled back on the singer’s gently swaying form as they broke into the chorus, and nearly shuddered as your gaze, from languid, half-lidded but oh so appealing eyes, met his, only for a split second but it was as if hellfire itself embraced him and greeted him like an old lover. Each lyric - a personal address as you moved along at a sensual pace, the song smoother than the most expensive silk. He smirked to himself as he caught his ponderings accelerating uncontrollably, attempting to squash them under a sober, calculating fist. You were no fool either. An entertainer, measuring out each attack like a venomous serpent, not threatened, seeking fun in the reveal of vulnerability of your listeners - each one believed that you existed for them and them alone, and in the hypnotic state added bill after bill to their already hefty tips in the hopes that at least some would reach you, and you would give them that beautiful smile, maybe something more. Truly, a shame that the owner of Morpheus owed the regime a lot more than all the tips, so-called donations and what, compared to the rest of the money, was "honest" earnings all combined. The Captain of the Inspectors in charge of this little project had gotten a little too nice as of late, at least that was what Seonghwa had concluded, but it was not him who was going to pay for it, naturally.

Twisting his head, Seonghwa took note of the familiar faces that appeared at the entrance to Morpheus to join the rest of the Inspectors that were posing as regular customers, cleverly dispersed among the filth that reeked of dependence. Of course, dependence on what the regime was selling. There was no other way about it. Nodding the two men a curt hello, Seonghwa let his eyes trace back a swift path to the magnificent performance. He paid attention to how your dainty earrings glinted even in the lowered light, and how, with every subtle movement, he could see the gorgeous dress tighten just a little around your body. You were so out of place in this scene, an angel in the darkest pits of hell, a little bird struggling against the wiring of a cage, curling inwards, growing smaller until the last flutter of the wings. As he was caught up in admiring your beautiful style, grace, and listening to your sweet, warm tone, one of the two newcomers, a fellow brother in governmental salvation to Seonghwa, tapped him lightly on the shoulder and occupied the seat beside him.

“As flashy as ever, Woo. Might as well tattoo ‘trouble’ on your forehead,” he motioned towards his not so inconspicuous suit that made him look more like a mafioso rather than an average joe. Seonghwa had to admit, however, that the outfit looked too damn good on him, but this was going to be just one of those things he was to take to his grave. The man did not need his ego fed any more than what the ladies he finds as company for the less busy nights not hounded by the lower ranking Guardians provide.

“I’d carve a pretty smile on that face. Not even a hello?”

“Hi San,” Seonghwa deadpanned, looking past his friend who he noted had tied his hair into a low ponytail, and right at the other half of his duo. Wooyoung and San, two peas in a pod, and probably the last people one would ever wish to see if they were in trouble with any of the Inspectors.

“Aren’t you mean today… what, pretty star over there didn’t give you attention?” Wooyoung retorted with a smirk creeping onto his lips. With a raise of an eyebrow and a shake of the head, Seonghwa dismissed any thoughts of peace that he had been imagining, settling back to regular business.

Rolling his shoulders back, he let the scene come and envelop him. It was no coincidence that so many of the Inspectors had gathered, especially with Wooyoung and San now closing in the arrivals. It did not take a genius to guess that Captain had changed his terms, and this was no longer going to be an ordinary shakeout for money or customary information gathering from the owner of Morpheus. The owner had stalled for far too long, had strayed from ‘good practices’ of a loyal rat, and it was time to set an example for others. Disease was the human emotion, and this bar was a breeding ground for thought crime, was it not?. Lowly, lonely creatures who gathered here were all examples of where society had gone astray from the perfect vision Z had put forward, at least… most were. Those who had forgotten the meaning of feeling despite having regained the ability, those, to Seonghwa, were the true vermin. He regarded the few gathered who were most definitely not meant to be part of this story. A middle aged, haggard man with flushed cheeks and what had to be his fifth glass of the cheapest liquor on the menu. Some bigshot from another town who he recalled some of the Inspectors in charge of patrolling the area identifying this morning - no ties, no money, just a lot of ambition that was to amount to nothing. A few lowlives here and there who were faceless, in shades of grey. All not meant to be here, and yet by some stroke of fate, here they were to remain. Finally, he drifted back to the main act, still at the centre of the stage, the sole luminance among the tainted - those who had no hope in making Seonghwa feel anything but numbness. You were the only one working here. Earning your meagre pay - he had discreetly checked the bar’s balance books when the old man behind the counter was too distracted to care for a person of his kind strolling into his office that was concealed in a dark corridor. It was shameful how you were still in this far less than grand establishment, sharing your angelic vocals, despite obviously not having any compensation nor appreciation of your efforts. Perhaps the moments on stage were the only time when you felt alive; the thought would not leave Seonghwa. After much investigation playing pretend, he was confident in his conclusion: you had not changed.

You were on the tattered poster plastered up outside - the one and only, shows every Friday night. Perceive and behold the spectacular ethereal being as you sang songs that spun threads out of a spectator’s very soul, blood trickling from the cracks in their shattered form turning to gold. You sang their… his pain, promised him his glory, soothed and comforted him. Seonghwa was well aware that you were the sole reason that he had shifted his visits to Morpheus to this particular day of the week and monitored the illegal location so closely, otherwise, your face would never grace his corrupt, bleak vision. You did not deserve to go with the rest. When breaking free, one was not supposed to fall into another trap, and yet, here you were. You were not meant to be here, littering the ground that you stood on as the last of the gunpowder would settle on your perfect skin, your long, alluring eyelashes. The onyx-haired man felt a shift within himself as he mused the outcome of the unspoken plans - by the way in which Wooyoung leaned back onto the counter, a grin dancing on his features and by the way San was acting particularly kindhearted to the lonely staff who was rushing about, struggling to keep up with the visitors’ habits, he knew that tonight, they were not planning on hearing any cries for mercy. They were here to complete a mission for a higher purpose. And that mission was far from the sweet music which he had loved his whole life, and finally found again.

“They’re not supposed to be here.” he mumbled, his voice obscured by yours, echoing across and elevating to a sensual culmination.

“Aren’t we all? We’ve got to do what we’ve got to do. Think of them as a sculpture or something if it makes things easier,” Wooyoung took out a rolled up bill to put between his lips - a habit that he had formed after a few too many hits on the back of his head by San, an interesting approach to make a man quit smoking. He called it ‘smoking capitalism’, earning quite a few chuckles from the Inspectors, Seonghwa included. 

“So say someone’s going to scope the ring to clean it up a bit, would you let them hit our favourite auntie?” he asked, referring to the friendly cleaner who was probably the only one in the entire city who did not bat an eye at the violent matches that Wooyoung managed under the wraps for the regime, instead cooing over the fighters he brokered for and giving the men an extra helping of her home-cooked delicacies. In many ways, she was a mother figure for the Guardian Inspectors, despite her being at risk, every day, of being taken to the Red Humans should one of them be in a ‘different kind of mood’ on an arbitrary morning.

“Definitely not. But this singer. Who are they to you?”

“A pawn.”

“A pawn?”

“Mhm. I can pawn them in for rewards.”

“Suppose they are pretty enough, if that’s what you’re thinking of…”

“Goodness, take the pimp out of the bordello but can’t take the bordello out of the pimp. That business was shut a while back for you, no?” with a groan, Seonghwa retaliated at Wooyoung’s rather out of pocket suggestions. Over the many years of serving Z in not so ethical ways, the man had tried on a few too many hats and seen a few too many hats to retain even a sliver of compassion towards anyone except those closest. It was understandable. Odd, but understandable.

“Kidding. But for real though, what’s the use?” Wooyoung bit down on the bill softly, gaze following San who had moved towards a couple of underlings that had gathered in a booth off to the side, towards the far corner of the bar. Clearly, he was checking if they had read the room.

“Say, isn’t it Captain’s niece’s birthday soon? We don’t exactly have a musical act to hand since…” Seonghwa trailed off, knowing that Wooyoung knew what incident he was referring to, involving an accusatory phrase, a short temper and a very professional shot from a sniper rifle from the boss’s office window into the temple of a figure that was storming away from one of the many Inspector accommodations. Another one to fertilise the soil with.

“Smart. I’ll give it to ya. If you sort the business out before showtime, pretty thing’s all yours.” Wooyoung responded, patting his side where, underneath his shirt, Seonghwa knew was a holstered pistol. Pushing himself away from the counter he stood up, adjusting his long, leather coat and glove. It was not that he had a particular preference, but ever since entering the new life upon being pardoned for feeling, a life where he had to say found a home, he could not help but wish to always look just that little bit more put together, even if only to appear loyal. 

“Cheers. I’ll get them a nice candle-lit dinner to soften them up and then inform Cap’,” sounding purposefully sarcastic, Seonghwa mumbled under his nose, well aware that this was not a method that had ever been in use. One glower and curt phrase had always been enough - the rest was simply the heart’s doing masked by odd humour. 

“Awh, look at you, how sweet and lovely. What a darling,” Wooyoung teased, sending Seonghwa a wink. The music was fading away, the last notes landing on his ears, marking every moment.

“One more word and you’ll be the main course.” with his index finger he poked the centre of his fellow Inspector’s chest in threat, maintaining a cold expression.

“Sorry, sweetheart, I’m going to be roasting out here tonight, so make it hot with pretty thing.”

“Filth,” the taller man spat, knowing that attempting to counter his friend was nearly impossible - out of all the people he knew only Captain could fully round him in, and even then Wooyoung had a smile on his face, much to Seonghwa’s confusion.

“It’s not me who is with the heart eyes.”

“I just saw an opportunity,” playing with the leather piece that buttoned up to protect his neck, he eyed you, waiting for you to finish. Unknown to you, you did not have much time left before your very life would be placed on a scale and thoughtlessly pushed to lose against the weight of usual Strictland business. Such was the violent, catastrophic illusion of order, such was the structure that had been Seonghwa’s twisted saving grace. He was going to be doing you a favour by taking you away, won’t he? Either way, you would be out of work, and he was helping you with a little job search from one of the highest payers - chivalrous and kind hearted, that was who he was. How else could the Inspectors form any partnerships and feast on forbidden fruit otherwise? Who was he kidding - a soul like you was not meant for a life like this. But he had to try. He needed time to think. 

“Sure. Sure. An opportunity to grab the gorgeous star for yourself.”

“Oh shut up will you?” snapping, Seonghwa were desperately trying to cut the conversation short, seeing the window for him to make a beeline for the edge of the stage, towards which you promptly setting off after finishing your set, and receiving a dismal lack of applause - what else would he expect from the crowd gathered in Morpheus? Especially when the stench of iron and the final judgement was mere minutes away from materialising.

“You know that’s not my style.”

“Yeah, yeah. Be good. Hope you did not block my mustang,” throwing one last comment behind him, the solemn man was off, only barely catching Wooyoung’s half-hearted response.

“Have I ever…” 

The mission was simple. Since he was dismissed from the less than pleasant task of wiping out the bar, considering that two more senior Inspectors had made their appearance and were clearly more in the know of what was brewing, Seonghwa had only a couple of minutes before all freedom would cease to exist. And then, no heaven could bestow mercy upon neither him, nor the beauty he had come here to save for no logical reason, instead relying on some hazy version of hope and nostalgia. He had parked his ink black ride around the block - out of sight for unwanted eyes, and perfectly positioned for getaways just like this. If you could catch the Inspector’s drift, that was. One could only pray that the dazzler on stage was just as dazzling when it came to reading between the lines. He had perhaps even less than the estimated time to explain himself before Wooyoung and San would call the owner over to get the real evening show started. Time was ticking along with the skyrocketing pace of his heart as he stopped you on your tracks with a slightly outstretched leg, only to move forward and cast a shadow over you.

It was difficult to remain level-headed when, even at such proximity, in the normally less than flattering lighting, you were nothing short of a deity. Something out of fairy tales, stories of royalty or angels in kingdoms far far away, those that were not supposed to exist. But here was one, staring right into his eyes with your beautiful expressive orbs, as deep as the history that Seonghwa had raced here to try and reignite. A universe in your irises, an all-consuming black hole in your pupils, beckoning Seonghwa, leading him into a stupor before he stuffed his hands into his pockets, bringing himself out of the momentary trance by force. Time was not on his side, and he knew that it would never be unless he kept on running.

“Lovely song, that was.”

“Indeed. ‘Fly Me to the Moon’ is one of my favourites. Did you enjoy the performance?” Your speaking voice was different, of course, but nonetheless struck that stunning familiar chord within Seonghwa, one that should never see the light of day if he were to remain how he had to be. It was terrifying, how he was ready to let go of his resurrected image as an Inspector for a chance to turn the past into the present. 

You were polite. The features of your alluring face were hinting at a genuine interest, an appreciation of every movement, every breath you were taking. Though, in Seonghwa’s own line of work, particularly in the stage of undercover investigation, this was simply the usual. Show a smile, bat the eyelashes, make business, disappear. Genuine interest was an artform, but even if you were indeed expressing it in the way with which he was familiar, it felt so natural that he almost wanted to believe it. He wanted to believe this daydream who had come to change the colours of his occasional Fridays, his hunts for those straying from what Z had deemed ‘right’, leaving glimmers of memory to last him through the weeks when he had to be numb to life itself until he could come and see you again. It did not mean much to you, most likely. You were strangers in your respective new lives, and had Captain not made the decision to teach the owner of Morpheus a lethal lesson, you would have remained that way. Drifting together for a few hours, remaining distant, and drifting apart again. A forever flowing story that was to rekindle a starcrossed ‘once upon a time’ but never have that sought after resolution. A dream that reminded Seonghwa of why his unlikely survival was a blessing. As your eyes revealed a hopefulness, a plea for praise, Seonghwa gave you a soft smile.

“Of course.”

“I look forward to seeing you, you know.”

“O-oh?” Seonghwa could barely contain his surprise, the previously cool demeanour cracking into a raised eyebrow. Could you remember?

“Yes! You always sit at the bar, second stool from the left. And order… what is it… a brandy, right?”

He would be lying if he were to say he was not surprised by your suddenly chipper attitude. Almost like you were a kid who entered a candy shop for the first time to see all of your favourite treats, you excitedly revealed to Seonghwa your observations. While it was endearing to see, the shuffling behind him, along with the idea that he was not the only one intently observing left the Inspector with a sense of unease, nearly throwing him off from the initial goal that motivated him to brave talking to you in the first place.

“In…deed?”

The singer, who was previously an astounding yet distant figure captivating all who cared to look even once, rapidly transitioned into someone who he almost found endearing, the keeper of far too many qualities that cemented the rightness of his decision. You were not meant to be here, he repeated to himself. Mutters around the bar were getting louder, and as the rest of the musicians filed out of the main hall and crammed into a tiny room off to the side, in Seonghwa’s peripherals he noted San’s steady, seemingly innocent amble between the scuffed round tables and equally unpleasantly antique chairs.

“You are the only one who listens, so, how could I not notice? Actually, I wanted to talk to you properly, or at least say thank you but didn’t want to impose.”

As much as he wanted to sink into the warmth of your words and allow you to recognise him on your own accord, the rippling commotion that was finally rearing its ugly head spurred him on and struck his heart with an icy, calculating mace. He had a minute tops, knowing Wooyoung’s love for never counting down to zero before beginning.

“Well, let’s talk. Outside,” The black-clad man tried to walk off, aiming for the dark corridor at the end of which was the fire exit, but when you did not move, rolled his eyes.

“I was thinking I could buy you a drink-”

“Cute. Another time though,” seeing the tinge of disappointment in your gaze was new, and entirely unexpected, but gave Seonghwa plenty of leeway to sway you into following him, “since you watched me enough, I bet you can guess who I am. Or, what I do for work. Right?” 

A steely glare, leaving nothing open to interpretation. For additional evidence, he demonstratively adjusted his coat, loosening the belt he had tied around his waist to reveal a leather holster, discreet, gun always within reach. Attentive to detail as ever, you took note of the inconspicuous design of the pistol before he let it disappear once again under the fabric - in this city, there were few who had access to any form of weaponry, the items being so highly regulated by the government that it was nearly impossible to purchase or get licensing. Your mind began to list off options; Seonghwa clearly was neither a standard Android Guardian due to the lack of mandatory uniform, nor a scruffy criminal whom you had gotten used to over the time that had passed, nor part of the police force, nor a Class 2 Prestige Academy student. It only left an answer that shook you to the core. Of course, it was not that you did not hold the assumption in your heart. As a matter of fact, you had previously assumed that you were used to greeting people from different walks of life, all gathered in the same place, at the same time for what you wanted to believe was a ‘good time’. That was what drove you to live the life that you were living. Exist in this space, despite your pay and your security almost always not being enough, but you would give even that up if that meant you could keep your freedom.

Seonghwa was effortlessly graceful, determined in every step and gesture, not a single movement wasted. In a sense, it was as if he had purposefully learned and memorised the most efficient adjustments of the body, letting himself metamorphose into a lithe, agile animal. It was terrific, and terrifying, how at any moment he could pounce, and you would never know when until it was too late. For this hint of a reason, you decided to follow the man’s unspoken command, only whispering an airy inquiry after the other musicians, which he coldly dismissed:

“You need a better band anyways.”

---

The gravity of the situation only began to settle in when the biting breeze outside of the stuffy bar hit you, seeking opportunity to tousle your locks. The strands that had managed to fall over your face were trembling, the only sign revealing your suppressed distress as the last of Morpheus's dusk-like illumination was shut from your vision with a confident slam. Your eyes widened as you watched the Inspector, or in other words, your personal grim reaper, flip a lock on the door - previously thought to be inaccessible to anyone except the owner, done so masterfully as though he were the one who had installed it in the first place. An exit, a saving grace for innocents inside, turned into a dead end - more symbolic than one would ever initially assume. He trailed up the length of his arm stopping for a moment at the material that covered his shoulder, listening to leather hit leather. Seonghwa could only find calculated resolve within himself. This was the usual for him, and that after weighing all the options, he had logically come to the conclusion that the demise of the people inside was indeed the most attractive option.

As you heard the first shot resound inside of Morpheus, you shuddered, but did not dare stop following the man in the trench coat as he strode on ahead, hands remaining in his pockets. To any onlooker it would seem that he was relaxed as ever, out for a late night walk in a neighbourhood he knew better than he knew himself. Breath in, breath out; you were trying to remind yourself of the simple act, focusing harder than you had ever done during your performances. Imagining your diaphragm stretching, letting the lungs take in as much air as possible and-

Another shot. Breath knocked from you, balance off kilter, you desperately wanted to run. Anywhere. Maybe you should have stayed, not picked up on the subtle offer of your life being spared. In that way you would not have to live with the guilt of not having said anything to your fellow bandmates, not having said thank you to the owner for… what was there to thank anyone for? Out of habit, you lifted a hand to brush over your ear, echoes of the time when you had first felt emotion rippling across your body, making you shiver. You were all fools misled by hope for a brighter tomorrow in a world that was permanently overcast. Where did this running lead you? Where did your wistful song guide you? Back into the arms of the apocalypse - broad-shouldered with hair the colour of ink, the last thing you would see before disappearing for good. At least you should thank your former so-called colleagues for the information about the common demise. Tears welled up in your eyes as you obeyed the lean man’s orders and practically toppled into the black vehicle parked by the Morpheus, a lonesome yelp masked by the gunfire and indecipherable orders. 

You had no idea where he was taking you, and you did not dare ask. The man reminded you of all you had been trained to avoid in your new life, a threat, a weapon, a soldier. His gloved right hand remained resting beside the gearshift, while his left coldly gripped the steering wheel. Not a single one of his muscles appeared to be relaxed, and not a single movement had a semblance to anything natural. An automaton in the driver’s seat, you wanted to feel comforted by the idea that you were the only one truly human in the car, for the idea that someone as brutal as a Guardian Inspector could be conscious or decisive was too strong of an agony. 

At the same time, in the moments where the Inspector turned his head to check the surroundings, you noted something familiar. He dashed past the blue, purple and aquamarine signs that lined the streets of the district you had learned to love, himself turning into a painting. Be it in the angles that formulated his stern face, or in the elegance that he was unable to conceal, the past crawled out of a long-forgotten cavern in your psyche and gnawed at your nerves, just out of reach of realisation. Perhaps in another time, you had known him. Perhaps in one of the banned art pieces, you had seen him. At the same time, this could not be the first Guardian Inspector you had encountered - they were all similar enough in demeanour, so what was another face? Equally as entitled, above the law. Above a runaway like you. You were vermin. The enemy. A traitor to the Academy, to Strictland, to Z himself. Or so you were told. The only thing that could be different about this Inspector, was that he could be your last.

A sharp stabbing sensation spread from your temples and what had to be through your skull, jabbing into bone and into the cerebellum. Nauseous, you shut your eyes and clutched your head in a futile attempt to seek some form of relief. The car roared, and a sudden stench of rubber and concrete penetrated through every crevice, choking your senses and making you taste the acrid pollution. One turn, another, your organs were being jolted back and forth as the monstrous engine urged on by none other than the embodiment of oblivion dragged the car across eternal misery of long-abandoned districts.

“Oh goodness…” a feeble whisper left your lips. You reached out to grab hold of the door handle, peering at the grooves to find at least something to focus on. His vision was swimming in your eyes, etchings of your surroundings morphing into repressed memories. 

A boy marching beside you to class, head held at the angle commanded to all academy students. A young man, dressed in all white with black locks parted in the middle. A solemn stare, unreadable, though not fully blank as it should be. But at the same time, how could you, another student of Prestige, detect that something was not quite right? Since when could you feel? You lifted your head cautiously to try peeking at the Inspector again, but he was frozen. Only the abrupt tightening of his gloved hand around the steering wheel and a determined turn reminded you that he was not quite an automaton. 

“I must be dreaming…” you blinked away a teary blur, and clenched onto your dress for the remainder of the journey, feverishly recounting whatever lyrics you could. Your little safe haven, your precious prayers to the arts - truth which you had discovered after abandoning everything you could have been.

Your hand moved on instinct to the side of your head, feeling for what once had been the hub of your consciousness. A chip that made you feel right at home, heartless, but with a purpose. Forty years of education, an eternity to serve something greater than you; clear goals, a mission for your generation and many that would come after you. Hand in hand, you were soldiers of a catastrophically closed-minded society; at the time, however, you could not be ‘happier’. Or rather, more numb. Because you did not know of negative nor positive, you could not experience either, and so remained in a stable equilibrium, just as the superpower of this forlorn land had instructed. Disease was the human emotion. You were ‘healthy’. Until that boy appeared in your life, and revealed himself to you.

Bright-eyed, hopeful, excited. So unlike anyone. And against better judgement, you let the inklings of curiosity drip over your heart, and the beginnings of affection take flight. Dark hair, dark eyes, tanned skin, a smile brighter than the sun, a soothing mellifluous voice, vowing to you that you could build another life together. A life much more beautiful than one constructed with deception and hollow propaganda. What could a little tap of a breaker do to you? Apparently, it could change your destiny. 

As you massaged your temples, you locked gazes with the man in front of you, but met the boy from your past in the mirror. That same worry, knotted eyebrows, concern and care so evident you could touch it if your fingers grazed his cheek. You could not move, even when he turned back to the road, and continued to stare at the rear view mirror in the hopes of seeing your daydream again. You had to be wrong. This had to be you hallucinating. You must be just… afraid. Out of your mind. And so you were recalling one of the few times when you thought the world could do you no harm. 

“Get out,” a command. As cold as steel. The engine was still roaring in your ears, despite the surroundings having gone dead silent.

A click. The doors unlocked. You could run if you wanted to. Though you were fully aware that the action would shorten your lifespan to a mere few seconds. You remained seated, gaze falling onto your lap, and listened to the painful succession of sounds that led the man to open your door, and roughly grab your upper arm.

“I said, get out,” you followed him like a rag doll, knowing that any attempts to resist would put you into even more danger. At the same time, even though the Inspector was obviously attempting to instil terror and a twisted respect for him, he could not face you. Consciously he made an effort to barely raise his lashes, thus keeping his scrutiny concealed. Reading through his hesitation was easy enough.

He could not keep his hand on you for a second longer after you stood up straight, darting away as though you were an open flame. The man cleared his throat and locked the car, before gesturing towards an abandoned building that loomed over the gravelly opening where you had completed your journey. Comically, it reminded you of Prestige, even though the latter was of much larger proportions and possessed a more unique shape. Perhaps it was the fact that this block, what used to be an apartment building, was crumbling, made you think of the academy’s inner workings. Rotting away. The cogs in the machine tearing each other apart.

This might be your end or your beginning, you were not sure which one. With an astounding loyalty, you let yourself be guided into the long-forgotten cement fortress, up exposed stairs with metal railings, past walls left bare, illuminated by an exposed moonlight, laying down a carpet of silver. It was oddly easy to think that life was beautiful when it was likely going to be taken away from you. The walk was silent, and the longer it lasted, the more at peace you felt. The odd step rang out and echoed like the gunshots you had heard, so surreal that you could barely believe it. It must have been a joke. Fireworks, or someone just being a little boisterous. Morpheus had seen so many colours of Z’s regime, it could not disappear now… oh who were you kidding. It was done for. You little version of an escape. Your space to feel.

As you made sneaky glances at the Inspector to your right, who not so ceremoniously had loosened his coat’s belt once more to have easy access to his gun, you could not help but think of the boy. You had followed his advice, made a run for it while he had been taken away by the Red Humans. Two youngsters who betrayed the regime. But who was truly free? The one who had been exterminated, or the one who had to live in fear, but at least felt the ruthless emotion?

The enigmatic man slowed down, and so did you. He made a turn, so did you, acting as his shadow. You were certain that you were probably breathing at the same rate. An empty hallway, lined with equally empty rooms and destroyed apartments. From a humble abode to rubble, you could see the horrific vistas of the district, and the drop to the cold ground below. No wall, no security, no certainty. It was only you and your fate in the form of a man who seemed to possess too much of a likeness to the keeper of your fragile adoration.

The Inspector walked in front and turned to face you. You froze, burning under his scrutiny. Eyes like scalding cold ice, assessing you, condemning you. Your best listener, now listening to your terrified heart. For what could be the last time, you felt alive. As the man reached into his pocket, you prepared for the worst, however, he only motioned with his head for you to follow him. Confused, you obeyed, finding yourself in a more secluded corner of the floor, one which had remotely retained the appearance of an actual room. Stuck in the same few seconds, there were no further commands from the Inspector, causing your mind to wander, and lips to move on their own accord:

“I should not be here.”

“Neither should I,” he deadpanned, though his choice of words was unsettling. Wasn’t he on a mission?

“I should be dead,” you persisted.

“I should have more blood on my hands.”

A pause. You were in shock, pointlessly clinging onto your own upper arms, stuck in a false embrace. Like prey that had been cornered, you were beyond the point of trusting survival instincts. You simply wanted for the interaction, or dare you say, interrogation, to be over, so you could be given away to the Red Humans, to whatever the afterlife had to offer, in peace. If you were to be melted, then so be it. If your departure were to be short and sweet, so be it. But a little question in your head still remained, a persistent worm which you decided to unleash given your hopeless circumstances:

“Then why-”

“It is pointless to ask when there is no answer,” the man answered coldly, not sparing you a glance as he picked at a filthy off-white tulle which covered a blown out window - now just a frame, with his gloved hand, glaring at the pitiful greyness outside the abandoned building before wiping the hand off with a handkerchief produced out of the pocket into which he had stuffed his hand.

A few steps separated you, but you knew better than to try and make a run for it – the man was armed, and you assumed that the gun you spotted was not the only weapon in his arsenal. He was menacing, unpredictable, and very dangerous. Alongside that, as much as you hated to admit, but the Inspectors were nothing short of extraordinary when it came to their expertise and training. Unlike Android Guardians, they were the leading forces, capable of high-risk decision making and unparalleled critical thinking. If you were to try to describe them, you always ended up thinking of chess. That was what they were playing whenever they were out in the field.

In fact, it was for this exact reason that you were concerned about this Inspector’s behaviour – it was out of line. Inefficient. Sub-optimal. You wondered if this was a new strategy or there was a higher plan; there were so many possibilities that your head could start spinning. You dug your fingers into rapidly cooling flesh, waking yourself up from the distressed rumination. What was the Inspector going to do to you? You had followed his demands so far, and weren’t putting up a fight - what more could he want?

He was unreadable. Gestures unpredictable, expression stoic, he regarded you with an air of superiority characteristic of people from his class. Serpent-like and calculating eyes, regal nose, facial structure reminiscent of a statue, plush perfectly shaped lips – all were a nod to his upbringing, you bet. He did not feel real. Reminiscent of automatons that the regime sometimes used in place of regular Guardians during high-volume riots, he was what one would call the ‘ideal specimen’. Down to the strand of wavy hair that fell on his face, he was a beautiful painting of your worst nightmare. Life had been unkind to you, you decided. It only showed you something prettier than the night lights when it was the last thing you would see.

The man stepped towards you, and your eyelids slammed shut automatically. You did not wish to see your death. The sound of leather against leather, the tied coat belt, the creaking of ancient rotten wood planks under lacquered ankle boots. He must be getting ready to end you. Were you too high profile to be lying with the other bodies in the club? Were you more dangerous in the Inspector’s view, being a singer, or as one could say a ‘spreader’ of inappropriate entertainment. Was this treason? Terrorism? You were not sure – the sentence changed more than the weather. But were you an enemy? With confidence, you had to answer with a Yes. Having escaped the regime, and according to those who had helped you regain some parts of your past self, having had a part in the uprising within Prestige Academy, you were the worst kind of citizen of Strictland. Disobedient, unchanging, and influential. You were waiting for the cocking of a pistol, for cool metal to hit your head, and for the world to go even darker as you collapsed on to the floorboards. The man had to be taking out his gun. He must have taken you away from the raid to be particularly ruthless. A sadist? Maybe. You had no time to judge.

You felt the fabric of your shimmering dress under your fingertips, and imagined you were preparing for a show of a lifetime. You counted your inhales and exhales like you would do before a performance, and conjured an audience in your mind. More rustling, another step. He, that boy, no, young man, was in the audience. Still in the Prestige Academy uniform, but the chip was long gone. He was giving you an encouraging smile eager to hear what you had achieved in your time away from the academy. Leather caressed your hand and you flinched, comforted only by how cautious the action was. Hand turned to raise your palm to the omniscient skies, your illusions combined with reality - what was Seonghwa to give to you?

Funny, how in critical moments, the mind could give you what you had longed to forget. Seonghwa. His name tasted sweet, with a bitter aftertaste. A fine wine, dizzying, addictive. A handsome, talented student who had the future ahead of him, only to throw it away for the taste of something more ‘real’ in his eyes. Something cold was being pressed into your palm, reminiscent of a large bullet or a device your fingers could remember before your mind. Your eyes shot open and were met with a dream and a nightmare. Finally, it hit you. Behind the Inspector’s facade, a mask crafted by years of experience and brutality, was the same boy, who, just like now, pressed a breaker into your palm.

“Wake up.”

Your gaze fell to the intricate metal handiwork, spotting the carving of an ‘A’ contained in a circle right at the base. The taste of anarchy, an uprising, revolution, a hope for something better flowing through a tragic story you two had written. At last, it had a resolution, and you were more than content with who was holding the lethal pen. You stared at the breaker. The very thing that brought you out of an eternal somnolence, submission to a regime. You had woken up then, and never could sleep.

“Whether 'tis nobler in the mind to suffer… the slings and arrows of outrageous fortune…” you lifted your head once more, staring into Seonghwa’s softened eyes. He had matured, his features having become siren-like, dangerous, seductive. Befitting his character. You smiled sadly, “...or to take arms against a sea of troubles, and, by opposing end them?” He remained quiet, as if he was the one waiting for you to decide your own destiny, “Shakespeare. Hamlet. Ever read it? Or do they not let you?”

“I-” he cleared his throat, concealing a pang of nervousness, “I am familiar with his work.”

“Mm, isn’t that a criminal offence?”

“What is?”

“Reading work exploring human emotion… sounds like treason to me.”

“Reading does not imply sympathising.”

“But you do.”

Again, a heavy pause. Seonghwa rocked from one foot to another one time, another - an old habit? Or an attempt to convince you that he was at least a fraction the same?

“I… I do not,” before you could scowl, he continued, “‘Cowards die many times before their deaths. The valiant never taste of death but once’. I am more partial to this way of thinking.”

“Ah, the irony of it all.”

Your hand formed a fist around the device, and you kept on searching for fragments of the man you loved inside of the new Seonghwa before you. In flashes, you spotted glimmers of gold, feeble hints for something that could be concealed in the depths of his soul. 

“So, are you going to make me a valiant person?”

“What?” 

“Wasn’t that what you were supposed to be doing?” feeling a little more brave, you taunted him, wishing to see what his limit was. Whether he was lying to you just to set you at ease and make his job easier. So he could see one final sense of betrayal in your pupils.

“We are already dead, Y/N.”

---

Music. A universal language. The biggest risk for a community that someone wanted to silence. So you hummed one song after another, head leaning against Seonghwa’s shoulder as you sat on the concrete floor, in the corner of the room that was barely holding itself together. Bathed in silver light, you shared with him the luxury of reminiscing, mourned what had been lost only to have the feeling be replaced by a budding desire to wish upon anything at all.

Seonghwa might have lied to many of the Inspectors, and was in danger of facing a fate worse than extermination, but at least he did not lie to you. And because he did not lie to you, you were here; you were real. He could have the pleasure of having you beside him, wrapped up in his leather coat; your dress was not exactly ‘inhospitable conditions’ material, as pretty and befitting as it was. You were refusing to let go of the breaker as though it was the tether to a more sunny past, not that Seonghwa would ever dare pry it out of your hands. So long as you could keep singing for him forever. Even when music were to cease existing, and when the sky would fall down, he would still hear your voice. How many times had he visited Morpheus in secret, outside of his official inspections and scouting missions? How quickly had he transferred into a field role just for the chance to find you? How had he managed to remain alive even though his sentence had been supposedly set in stone, and he was still feeling? With each question, the answer grew blurrier and blurrier, until it no longer existed. Perhaps this was a manifestation of destiny. You were supposed to meet again after so much turmoil, so you did. Curious.

“What song do you like?” your voice, sleepy, serene, cut through his ruminations. Seonghwa looked down and to his side, meeting a gentle gaze. 

“What song do you want to sing?”

“Mm, no that’s not an answer,” you snaked your hands around his arm and pulled him closer. 

“But I like everything you sing. Because you sing it.”

“Sweet, but I’m at a loss.”

“Then let’s be quiet. Together. For as long as we can.”

“There’s not too long left, is there?”

Your question was rhetorical. Both you and Seonghwa were aware of it. Time in Strictland was not governed by the individual but by an unforgiving system. A person, or perhaps a symbol, holding the clock with an iron grip and making the hands fly faster and faster until a second was an impossible measure. Involuntarily, he sighed, causing wisps of steam to escape his lips and rise to the exposed armature of the floor above. With cooling temperatures came the cooling heart, and it was difficult to tell what it was that you loved. What was it that made you feel alive?

“You know, they gave me a choice,” Seonghwa began. There was no reason why he should be telling you about what had happened to him, but the sombre atmosphere seemed to bode well for a confession. You did not interrupt, choosing to remain passive, resigned, “either die for what I believe in, or admit I was wrong.”

“Funny how they gave you a choice,” the infamous ‘they’. The Guardians, the regime, the enemy. Now turned into a friend. Interesting how life changed.

“Definitely was not what I expected.”

“You sure they didn’t say ‘sike’ at any point and you just got lucky?”

“I don’t think they can miss,” a simple, but sharp fact. You bit your lower lip, “...anyways. You can probably guess what I chose to do. The only caveat is that I admitted I was wrong… for a different thing.”

“Do tell.”

“I was wrong for putting you in danger, Y/N.”

“Nothing we could do about that. We were two fools in love.”

Seonghwa detangled himself from you, only to grasp your free hand in his, place the other on your thigh and meet you face to face. Misty-eyed, his rationality was growing frantic, and you knew that at any moment he could snap, and only the clearing night knew what would happen then.

“But I was the one to jolt you out of a peaceful existence. I was selfish-” After years of doubting himself, sinking into a destructive illusion where he would march alongside others like a machine, he was breathing. Much to his regret, it was a sensation far too sweet and heavenly, worth every revolution and rebellion.

“I don’t regret it.”

“...What?”

“I would put this thing to my head time and time again if I had to,” you raised the breaker to eye level, attempting to get at least a smile or a chuckle out of Seonghwa. Much to your dismay, it did the opposite. You would be lying if you were to proclaim you were euphoric. 

“I- I’m… Y/N I’m so sorry…” you shook your head and pulled him in, until his exhales and inhales were tickling your neck. Hunched over you like a black-clad shield, Seonghwa was unmoving. Eyes darting down, you spotted that he had taken the pistol out of the holster, and upon a second glance to where he had been sitting, you noted its lonely presence, tucked away with debris and gravel.

“You are alive. And clearly still care enough to remember me. That’s your apology. And your punishment,” in a soothing gesture, you ran your fingers through his hair, cautiously at first, then turning your ministrations continuous, measured out when Seonghwa sat back down on the concrete, only this time nuzzled into you. 

“Sorry…” he forced out, choking up.

The moon counted down the time while lazily passing over the building. You were at a crossroads. In haste, Seonghwa had told you of the opportunity to serve the Guardian Inspectors, being a private entertainer of sorts, but he knew you would refuse. Fast. Becoming one’s own enemy was the one thing you would not follow Seonghwa into doing. And that is why he admired you. You were strong. You were truly alive. A bird soaring in the skies in spite of the risks of being hunted, being shot. Simply for the feeling of the wind under your wings, to be closer to the stars and to sing your song loud and clear, every note a celestial blessing. 

“Blue bird…”

“Hm?”

“I think I have an idea… if you are willing to go into hiding, that is.”

“Planning uprisings are we?”

“Oh they’ve been long in the works, my love. It is part of my job to close my eyes when necessary, and when convenient.”

“Are you about to be wrong again?”

“Maybe. Or very, very right. Depends on how the song sounds to you.”

---

Walking down the corridors of the headquarters, hands behind his back and appearance pristine, Seonghwa was nothing short of a model Inspector. Low ranking employees cowered before him and bowed, while his immediate colleague Wooyoung smirked, attempting to hook any information out. 

“So… where'd the pretty star go?”

Silently, Seonghwa handed him a slip recording the disposal of an ‘unnamed entity’.

“ Oh… well that’s harsh. What did they do, reject you?”

“Apparently once gone so far astray, one cannot be changed. I had to do what was best for the regime.”

“Such an example for others. Wow. Almost too good to be true, Park. Well, I’ll be reporting that the extermination and cleanup of Morpheus was successful.”

“You do that.”

While Wooyoung turned the corner, Seonghwa continued to walk straight down the metal corridor, eyes locked onto the very end. Morpheus was no longer, indeed. But your song was still ringing in his ears, and no doubt, there would be a time when it would resound over the many speakers planted all across Strictland.

Blue skies smiling at me

Nothing but blue skies do I see

Bluebirds singing a song

Nothing but bluebirds all day long

Never saw the sun shining so bright

Never saw things going so right

Noticing the days hurrying by

When you're in love, my how they fly

Blue days, all of them gone

Nothing but blue skies from now on

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[lady-pug]

dream a little dream of me

Chapter IV of Dream a Little Dream of Me

Summary: As you settled in for the night, sleep overcame you almost as soon as your head hit your pillow.

“You called?” you heard a voice call out in the darkness.

Opening your eyes, you noticed with joyous gidiness that you were once again standing on the cobbled street, the moonlight shining softly on your skin. And Morpheus, the man you desperately wished to see, was standing only a few steps in front of you.

“I-” you almost found yourself at a loss for words “I did.”

Pairing: Morpheus | Dream of the Endless x Reader

Word count: 1,4k

Warnings: none

Notes: So… hi. I’m back. I’d like to start off by apologizing. I’m so so sorry for how long I’ve been absent, and especially for how long this story went without an actual ending to it (even though I’d promised to have it out quickly, just goes to show I shouldn’t make promises I might not be able to keep). A lot has happened in my personal and professional life in the past months that have kept me away from writing. I’ve had the first half of this chapter for almost as long as the third one has been out but so much was happening that I didn’t have the time or the motivation (sometimes I lacked both to be honest) to come back and finish it.

But I’ve finally done it. This story is finally complete. I’ve had the idea for this chapter mostly planned out in my head since chapter 1, and now I finally get to share it with you. I’d like to thank anyone who has taken the time to read this story and embark on this small journey with me, whether it be just one chapter (even just one paragraph) or the complete story. Thank you so so much for reading, and a special thank you for anyone who has left any sort of feedback, it means the world to me. And again I’m so very sorry for taking so long to write this, I sincerely hope you can forgive me. And I truly hope you enjoy this, dear reader!

Reader's gender not specified

Previous part | Masterlist | Read on AO3

Things had started to look a little bit brighter after that night. Slowly, very slowly, little by little, things in your life started getting better, getting sorted out. It wasn’t immediate, nor was it without effort, but it was something.

The first thing you did after writing ten whole pages on that fateful Word Document was to start looking for a job. Literally anything would do, just so long as it got the bills paid and added food to the table, just long enough for you to get back on your feet and find a more permanent career. You’d be the first to admit that some of the jobs you took during that time, some of the people you’d met, were simply awful, sometimes bordering on humiliating. But some you actually enjoyed, and some of the people you had met you’d keep in your heart for a long time.

You’d also tried getting in touch with the people you’d grown apart, even if they didn’t want anything to do with you, just as a way to get closure. Some answered and some didn’t. Some didn’t want to talk, others agreed to meet. Some simply told you how things you’d done had hurt them, and you told them of how they had hurt you in return. And some had even agreed to try and work things out, slowly regaining contact and, eventually, their trust.

And finally, after several long months, you managed to save up enough money to travel back to your home town for a couple of days in order to pay your relative’s grave a visit. It wasn’t perfect, nor was it ideal, but it was enough, if only for now. You felt a strange sense of calmness looking at the words engraved in their headstone. The sort of calmness you had only felt when in the Dreaming.

Speaking of, your night visits to the Dreaming and its inhabitants had been a comfortable constant in your life for the past few months, at least in the beginning anyway. At first, you kept coming back every night, cherishing your conversations with the café owner, who you had come to know was named Amanda, or the little quips Matthew threw your way whenever he saw you walking around town. Even Mervyn’s rudeness was something you had grown fond of. But the thing you looked forward to the most was seeing Dream. Sometimes he’d actually stop by and engage in casual conversation with you, other times he'd just send a small grin your way over his shoulder in passing as he strode around town. But every single time you saw him you felt a warm, fuzzy fluttering feeling in your chest.

But eventually, as things in the waking world started to get better, your visits to the Dreaming started to become progressively more scarce. You started having other dreams too, some good, some not so much, your visions of the small town, and consequently your interactions with Morpheus, dwindling by the day. While it saddened you to let this go, to let him go, you cherished it even more so.

Tonight, though, almost an entire year after your first real conversation with him by the riverside, you really wished to visit him, even if it was one last time. It had been weeks since you’d last visited and you were hoping with all your heart to be able to talk to him again. You had good news to share after all.

As you got ready for bed your thoughts kept wandering back to Dream. Why had he become so special to you? Why were you special, like Lucienne had told you, in the first place? Why did you keep going back to the Dreaming? Maybe you’d never know the answer to those questions, and you realized with a quiet start that you were fine not knowing. Those things happened, and you were honestly glad they did, there was no point in dwelling on the past now.

As you settled in for the night, sleep overcame you almost as soon as your head hit your pillow. 

“You called?” you heard a voice call out in the darkness.

Opening your eyes, you noticed with joyous gidiness that you were once again standing on the cobbled street, the moonlight shining softly on your skin. And Morpheus, the man you desperately wished to see, was standing only a few steps in front of you.

“I-” you almost found yourself at a loss for words “I did.”

He smiled softly, head slightly tilted as if to ask what was on your mind.

“It’s just-” you shook your head in order to gather your thoughts “Since… that night, I’ve been coming here less and less.”

“It’s because you don’t need this anymore.”

For a brief moment you panicked, doesn’t he want you to come see him anymore?

“What? No, I-” you stammered “I still- I still need this. I still need you!”

His grin turned soft and he averted his eyes before speaking again.

“You have gotten to a point in your life in which I am no longer needed. There is nothing holding you back anymore, you get to live your life however you see fit.”

A stinging sensation accompanied the tears brimming in your eyes, threatening to fall.

“But I still want to see you. I still want you.”

His smile widened, small lines creasing in the corners of his eyes as he took a step towards you, leaving almost no space between the two of you. 

“I once said you could see me again…”

“If I wished.” your own smile grew as realization dawned on you.

“Always.” he whispered as the back of his hand caressed your own, light like a feather.

As you stood there,breathing each other in, a moment turned into two, which then turned into a few minutes more, so much so that you almost forgot the reason for your visit.

“Why are you here?” Dream asked softly.

“Hm?”

“Why did you summon me?” he took a minuscule step back, only enough to be able to gaze into your eyes “You seemed like you had something important on your mind.”

“Oh!” you shouted, and had he been any mere mortal, Morpheus might have just flinched away from you. But he was no mere mortal and thus didn’t startle so easily, so he simply tilted his head to the side and waited for you to proceed “I finished my book.”

“That’s wonderful.” he smiled, genuinely happy for you.

“And a publisher has agreed to publish it!” you rocked on the balls of your feet, suddenly feeling bashful “I got the confirmation email today. I thought you might like to hear about it, since you were oh so interested in it before, you know.”

He chuckled softly, both of his hands resting on your shoulders to keep you in place.

“I am truly happy for you. And I feel honored you decided to come all this way to share it with me.” he removed one of his hands from your shoulder and raised it in the air “I believe this moment calls for a celebration, don’t you think?”

For the briefest of moments you panicked, believing he was sending you away once more.

“No, no, wait!” you tried to hold onto his hand but it was too late, he had already snapped his fingers.

Nothing happened. You were still there with him, not back in your bed in the morning. His smile turned smug, bordering on a smirk, as if he was already expecting your reaction.

And then you heard it. From seemingly out of nowhere came the soft whisper of a trumpet, followed by a powerful voice.

“Where is that coming from?” you looked around but could not find the source of the music.

Dream simply shrugged. That did not matter now, did it? Slowly, he raised a hand towards you, palm up and inviting. Placing your own hand on top of his, he pulled you closer, your chests practically touching, as his other arm enveloped your waist.

“This is what you call a celebration around these parts?” you teased, earning a chuckle from him.

“Only when both parts are into it.” he responded, slowly swaying you both to the rhythm of the song.

As you and Dream danced together, the soft glow of moonlight caressing your skins, you couldn’t help but sigh, a small smile playing on your lips.

“Thank you.” you whispered.

“Whatever for?” he hummed.

“For this. All of this.”

As you slipped further into his embrace, you felt peaceful. Your whole body tingled and for only a moment you wished you didn’t have to go back to the waking world.

“You’re welcome, darling.” he whispered back to you.

But you now knew you could always return here, to this very moment. All you had to do was wish for it, and Dream would bring you back here. Back to him.

[swanimagines]

SOMEONE TO BE SCARED OF | MORPHEUS

Summary: Your ex is an asshole. So Morpheus punishes him.

"If I can't have you, no one can."

That's what he had said when you broke up with him. Months of belittling and torment from the man you had foolishly started dating on Valentine's Day. He had felt like a dream, but by the end of February, he had turned to complete opposite of himself. His true self.

Morpheus had succeeded in talking you out of it, he had told you you deserve someone better - seeing how miserable you were now that he let you live on Earth with the man you claimed to love. Eventually, he saw what was happening, and you finally broke down in front of him when he visited your dreams. Morpheus managed to make you break it with your ex, and there, hell began.

Your ex's threat seemed just a childish outburst at first - but then it started turning into worse. Humanity showed its worse side to you. He came to your workplace, started spreading ugly rumors about you and even tried to attack you in broad daylight. You were scared for your life, you tried to go to the police and hide from him, but nothing seemed to work. He always found a new way to torment and bully you.

But without your knowledge, Morpheus had started to work on actions what he'll do to your tormentor for making you scared like that. He had cared about you for a long time, more than a boss should care about his employee. In a different way. He had changed a lot during his imprisonment, so much that he had eventually accepted your wish to live on Earth, he had let you to fall in love with someone else than him. Even through his jealousy. He felt like your current situation was his fault too - he should have checked the man's dreams, he would have found out his real nature from them. But he also knew it would have been creepy if he had done it. But he still should have known.

He was fixing that mistake right now. Your harasser would be left scared and alone, unable to get anyone else fall for him ever again.

"Who are you?" the man snarled the moment he saw Morpheus standing by his bedside. "Creep, get out of my house!"

Morpheus smiled, and the man got a look as if something snapped within him, as he lost all power over his own body. A partial sleep paralysis was an excellent way for things like these.

"I am someone you should be scared of," Morpheus replied. "You will leave everyone you torment alone."

Morpheus knew the man was desperately trying to find some way to escape, but he was glued into his bed, forced to watch Morpheus loom over him.

"I can make you suffer," Morpheus whispered. "Or you can end this here."

The man just stared at him, taking in short breaths.

Morpheus reached forward and grabbed the man's neck, squeezing it tightly until his eyes bulged out.

"This is what happens to men who mess with people who love them," Morpheus said softly. "You're a fool, you don't know any better. You think you can try to scare them?"

"No," the man finally squeaked. "No, I won't contact them anymore, please, I promise I won't."

Morpheus stared at the man, his eyes glowing brightly in the dark. "You won't. And if I hear you have, I will curse you with nightmares for the rest of your life."

With that, Morpheus was gone and the man was released from his paralysis, his heart pounding and sweat trickling down his spine. For a moment, he wondered if it was real or just a nightmare, but he definitely didn't want to find out. He got so scared that he dropped everything and moved out of town - and never again he mistreated anyone in his life.

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