#morpheus x witch! reader

[dark-academia-slut]

oh, this is so very precious and gentle and i am in love

the writing is so fucking beautiful and who doesn't love a soft and caring morpheus

Anyways Don't Be A Stranger

It's mid but we move on, please let me know of any mistakes!! Requests are open!

Morpheus had been a fool. He could admit that to himself with ease.

The King of Dreams had been free from Roderick Burgess' imprisonment for a few weeks now. And in that time he had chased down rogue nightmares, dealt with a vortex, his sibling(s), made amends with a centuries old friend and rebuilt his realm. And throughout all of that he had forgotten the only person he had thought about for just over two hundred years.

Y/N, his witch of a lover, a woman nearly as old as he was.

The pair had first met when Y/N called upon Dream of The Endless for a spell she was doing. At the time (the mediaeval era) Y/n worked for a small village as a pharmacist. of course she was gossiped about and shunned from the world but the many wards and circles around her house stopped people with bad intentions from passing her threshold. And that is why most of the village sent their children instead, small tiny humans with the purest of intentions and the loveliest of requests. They crossed her wards with ease and some even looked forward to their parents sending them to the Witch's cottage, whether it be for ointments or spells or charms.

This particular day a little boy and his older sister, seven and ten, had been sent to her. Y/N had been anticipating the knock all day and it finally came at 12:33 on a Sunday. She opened the door with a friendly smile and invited the children in whereupon they explained to her their predicament. The little boy had been experiencing intense night terrors and they had come to her for some form of remedy.

The Witch had told them what she would require: a feather from the boys pillow and a strand of his hair. As she was speaking she stood and reached for a vile of sand off her shelf and a jar which was filled with a bright white light.

"What is that?" the little girl reached up and pointed.

"This, my dear," Y/N placed it on her table, "Is a star, plucked from the sky on hallows eve."

The children made "Oo" noises and reached towards the jar and she let them and smiled before leaning down to the little girl, "Do you mind running back home and getting a feather from your brother's pillow?"

The girl nodded eagerly and then she was gone, hopping and skipping away back home, leaving Y/N with the boy who had plucked out a strand of his hair with ease and handed it to the witch, "Thank you!" she smiled.

She folded it into a piece of cloth and placed it into the pocket of her apron, before grabbing her cauldron and putting onto boil. She sat and talked to the boy about what he did, his friends, his interests before his sister returned with a handful of pillow feathers.

"Can I put them in?" She was bouncing with excitement as Y/N gently took the feathers from here and split them into two, handing the other half to her brother.

"Both of you can do it, go on. Be careful of the fire." She watched as the two children giggled and gently placed the feathers into the boiling water.

She smiled and then let them step back so she could continue. She took the sand and sprinkled it in an anti-clockwise direction, her wooden spoon stirring itself. She took the hair out of her pocket and placed it gently in the water. Her hand took a hold of the spoon and she stirred, murmuring as she went of Dreams and Nights and Stars and Gods and Endless.

The children stared in awe as she reached into her pocket and produced a pair of gloves that seemed to consume her hands in darkness before turning around and picking up the star in the jar. She unscrewed the lid and gently tipped it into her palm. She stared at the star for a minute, evaluating her sacrifice towards The Dreaming before lowering it into the water, hands fully submerged and when they came out the gloves seemed to have disappeared and there was a soft glow in the ever-spinning water.

It was all going well, the glow getting stronger and stronger as Y/N had seen many times.

But then she saw the light flicker and her face dropped and there was the sound of wind before the room was plunged into complete darkness. Instinctually she reached out and grabbed the children by their shoulders, pulling them into her arms and whispering instructions to them, "I need you to stay very very calm." She could feel them nodding in the darkness and she turned her back to where the cauldron used to be, feeling the children cling onto her skirt.

Then she saw them, the two white dots which seemed to hold the entire cosmos, much taller than her and unmistakably eyes.

Y/N spoke with power, strong and authoritative, "You stand within my home, with my rules and my wards, and I demand you show yourself or leave."

it was almost like the figure was laughing at her, her house shook with the echoes of chuckles, "Very well, Witch."

The candles flickered on, the sun returning to the outside world and her cauldron fire being re-lit. With no regard for the entity in her house she turned to the children and made sure they were okay, stroking their hair like a mother would and holding them close. Once she was reassured that they were going to be fine to turned back to the thing infiltrating her home.

It was a man. Tall with striking eyes, dark hair, wearing normal clothes, and she struggled for a moment before it hit her: the all consuming energy, the struggle to feel her own power.

"Dream of The Endless?" Her voice was barely more than a whisper, but he heard nonetheless.

"You asked for me, did you not?" He cocked his head in a form of confusion, his eyebrows furrowing slightly.

"Yes but- not like this. It was merely a spell…the little boy behind me has had struggles with night terrors." Gently she turned behind her and held the boys hand, pulling him towards her.

Gently Morpheus crouched down and held out his hands towards the boy but he looked Y/N in the eyes as he spoke, "It is not a Witch's place to mess with dreams." She bowed her head in acknowledgement to his words but gently pushed the boy towards him and watched as The King of Dreams placed his hands upon the boy's head and stared at him before finally speaking, "There will be no more night terrors...your sister and you will sleep well tonight." he reassured him, letting an amused smile slip through the cracks.

The moment Morpheus released him he rushed back into the arms of The Witch who gently patted the two on the back, told them that they were going to be okay, everything was fixed and resolved, this man could be trusted, before sending them home. This will be something to tell their parents…

"This is not the first time you have meddled with my realm, witch." The King of The Dreaming stood up from his crouched position, "I may advise you not to attempt it again."

Y/N wasn't sure how to react. Show him respect? Treat him like an equal? Get angry at him? She simply took a deep breath and started to tidy up placing jars and utensils back in their rightful places before addressing the Dream Lord's words, "What's wrong with what I'm doing? I am simply trying to help."

"Your helping is causing disruptions in my realm. A great feat, I will admit, but not one I look kindly upon." There was a feeling that he was impressed with her ability and power, but not happy with it.

"I'm not sure whether I should take that as a compliment." She sighed and turned to face him, "I enjoy what I do, helping these people. And as much as I would love to continue my dreamwork should you forbid and warn me from doing it then I shall cease." She nodded with a sense of finality.

"Take my warning as you wish, witch." He said, his words hanging in the air and then Morpheus, King of Dreams, was gone.

"Don't be a stranger…"

--

The next time Y/N had a customer, requesting something to do with sleep and dreams, she turned them down in a heartbeat, not quite willing to find out what the Dream Lord's warning meant. However, that evening, sitting in her cottage on her bed, fire burning away and studying her grimoire she felt a presence in her room, one that wasn't entirely unwelcome but still put her on edge and made the hairs on the back of her neck stand up.

She looked up from the book she was reading and copying out of and saw that same man who had visited her weeks ago, sitting at her table, hands neatly folded. His eyes pierced hers, the stars and the moons reflecting in them, "I saw you deny your customer."

"Is that not what you asked of me, not to mess with dreams and sleep?" The Witch gently shut her book and sat up properly to address the Endless.

"I have changed my mind." His lips pursed, "I wish to help you Witch."

She was slightly taken aback but accepted his change in attitude happily, "How? Why?"

"So many questions all at once." he stood, "I am going to teach you how to manipulate dreams and sleep, how to enter The Dreaming, how to simply flick a finger and have someone doze off, all because I have taken a liking to you and admire your dedication to your…craft. After much thought I have decided that if you are going to make a difference to people's dreams and nightmares then you might as well learn to do it properly, no?"

Gently he reached a hand out, "Come, I have much to teach you."

--

Morpheus stood outside his lover's house, hands in his pockets and Matthew on his shoulder, a thousand thoughts running through his head. "Who is this woman?" Matthew asked, ruffling his feathers.

"This woman, is the only person who I have ever taught the magick of dreams to. She was - is - my lover and I have been so stupid." The last part was a whisper, mostly to himself. Her cottage had changed since he had last seen it, more modernised. There were fields behind it now, and a garden at the front which grew a wide range of plants and flowers.

Morpheus swallowed his nerves and walked up the new path that ran through her garden to her front door. She had installed a knocker on her door, one that was shaped like a hand that he gently slipped his own hand into and lifted. Three knocks and he stepped back a bit, waiting for her to answer the door.

"Could you calm down? I can practically hear your heart." Matthew huffed, still shuffling about on Morpheus' shoulder. "Hush, Matthew." Dream murmured and he was about to say more when there was noise from behind the door and then it opened.

She looked exactly the same as he remembered her, that same hair and those bright eyes, slightly mismatched way of dressing and that smile, "How can I help-" her eyes widened as they landed on Morpheus and she stumbled back a bit, "Dream- Morpheus-"

"Y/N…" He was struggling to find words but he didn't have to say much before she had run into his arms, burying herself in his coat and holding him close. "Morpheus, oh goddess, oh my stars." She was weeping into his coat, before she pulled away to look at him, hands coming up to touch and hold his face, "Where were you? How long have you been back?"

The familiarity of her nature made him smile softly, "Always asked so many questions…I was captured by a magus and I've been back for a few weeks and I am so sorry I didn't come sooner, I just- The Corinthian and Desire and-"

"I think you said enough with Corinthian." She smiled lightly, "It's so good to see you - to have you back, Morpheus."

"I want you to come live in The Dreaming with me." The words came from nowhere, but she could feel the weight and meaning on them. He was taking a chance on her like he had taken a chance in the beginning.

"Okay…okay." she nodded, took a deep breath and then threw herself back into his arms, "I missed you so much."

"You're all I have thought about for two centuries. I can't tell you how sorry I am for being late." He pressed his forehead to hers and then he kissed her, almost like he hadn't felt human touch in just over two hundred years.

[hauntedwitch04]

Wrong time, right person

Azriel x reader

Words: about 3.3k words

Warnings: smut, smut, Iforgot to say smut, and Azzy himself ;)

Author’s note: Hi loves! I finally managed to write some more after the crazy week I had. Hope you like it, your witch Becky

Requests are open I Ask

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DAY 3: Sex pollen

It's an easy mission they said.

Touch and go, they won't even know you passed by they said.

Assholes. Liars. Bastards. Especially liars though.

This is all I can think of as the Shadowsinger and I find ourselves running through the trees being chased by the guards of the lord we had gone to spy on. Someone must have warned of our arrival, because a few minutes after arriving on the spot, we were already surrounded by enemies. We fought to the end, but were forced to retreat into the woods, seeking safety in escaping through that labyrinth of logs, hoping that those stupid enforcers would not be able to follow us.

It seems like hours that we are running when we finally decide to stop, in the vicinity of a cave, so that we can find refuge from the darkness and our pursuers.

"We finally lost those assholes." My companion comments, sitting back against the cave wall, leaning his head against the rock and showing his neck, leaving it exposed to my gaze.

That simple gesture kindles a fire in me that burns brightly, and I feel compelled to look away. I close my head between my legs and feel Azriel's gaze on me as he approaches. I feel him rest a hand on my shoulder, and I can't help but moan at that simple contact. I feel my cheeks get hot, but he doesn't flinch and asks me worriedly, "Hey, are you okay?" I can't bring myself to look at his face so I nod slightly still with my head between my legs and mutter a nonsensical apology. He still tries for a moment to wrest the truth from my lips, but I don't even flinch for a second. Azriel, seeing then that I did not intend to explain anything, stands up.

"I'm going to gather some wood for the fire, or we'll freeze to death tonight." He says, as he approaches the exit of the cave. I glimpse from below my knees the color of the sky, which is now turning blue.

"Okay, I'll stay here." I tell him in a whisper loud enough for him to hear me. I guess he nods, before walking out of our shelter, leaving me to think about why I took that action earlier. Ever since we escaped from the building I feel a strange sensation permeating my body, but I hadn't given it too much thought before since my priority was to run away from the guards, but it's as if after all that effort that feeling has expanded to the nth degree. It almost feels as if my body no longer belongs to me: I feel a wet sensation between my panties, while the fabric of my T-shirt brushing against the skin of my breasts sends shivers down my spine as my nipples harden against my bra. I squeeze my thighs together trying to ease that sensation, but it all proves futile. I feel a wave of embarrassment rise through my body again, thinking that this is all due only to a small gesture from the Shadowsinger.

Eventually I decide to lie down and try to get some sleep hoping that with a good dose of rest the next day I would wake up feeling better than I am now. I lie down with some difficulty on the floor only to fall unconscious in the arms of Morpheus after a few seconds.

But all is in vain, because in the middle of the night I suddenly wake up all sweaty. I sit up while with one hand I hold my chest. I feel the fire from before writhing in my gut, and on instinct my other hand goes to my center automatically, but realizing my gesture I immediately freeze.

Azriel was sitting in front of the fire, and seeing me feeling so sick he immediately approaches me, touching my forehead to feel if I had a fever. Immediately he retracts his hand feeling how hot I am, and makes me lie of me.

"You try to lie to me one more time about feeling good, and I swear I will never make you go on a mission with me again, and I will make sure Rhysand doesn't either." Says Azriel, as he removes part of my suit, to let the cold night wind cool me down a little. I again find myself letting escape a moan of pleasure as I feel that cool night breeze brush against my warm skin. I feel my nipples becoming turgid as I somehow try to get away from the Shadowsinger's constant touch, which is only making the situation I am in worse.

"I would say now is not the time to lecture me Az." I reply as I try to catch my breath. The Illyrian looks conflicted, but finally stands up and looks me straight in the eye.

"I'll try to do something. You stay here, and in case you give a yell, I'll be back here in less than a second." Says Azriel before disappearing into the night.

I stay looking at the place where he disappeared for a few minutes, trying to distract myself from the feeling of pain and the impossibility of having what my body desires, but finally I give in and begin to slowly run the fingers of my right hand over my center. I immediately feel the pain lessen, but like a drug, this never seems to be enough and I need more and more. My other hand wanders down my body until it rests on my breast and I begin to stimulate one of my nipples. My right hand I run it under my pants and for the first time my fingers come in contact with the wet lips of my pussy.

I remain in that limbo situation for what feels like an eternity experiencing enough pleasure to not die of pain and at the same time not enough to be completely well.

After what seems like hours, I hear Azriel's heavy footsteps getting closer. Quickly I try to look presentable, but immediately the lack of that little antidote causes me more pain than I felt before. I feel twinges in my abdomen that make me bend over, but despite this I look up at the man in front of me, and I cannot help but curse Mother for creating such a perfect being: he has not slept in days, he is drenched in sweat and tired, and yet he continues to be the most attractive person I have ever seen.

He stops to catch his breath, and only then do I realize that he no longer has the cape he was wearing before, in fact now his muscular arms are clearly evident, thanks in part to the tank top he was wearing.

"Where did your cloak go?" I ask, trying to distract myself in a very unsatisfactory way.

"I had to give it to Suriel, to get him to help me understand what you have." He says casually as he approaches me. At that gesture I try to pull away, but he doesn't let me, resting his hands on my shoulders. He then places his lips on my forehead to test whether I still have a fever. That gesture again unleashes a fire capable of burning whole woods in my stomach, and I groan, almost in pain, pushing him away from me.

"Did I hurt you?" Azriel asks worriedly, and I wave him off, so as not to worry him, but he doesn't seem convinced.

"What did Suriel tell you?" I ask, trying to change the subject.

"Well, as we were running away you spilled a jar of powders on yourself as we were going through that sorceress's store, remember?" Azriel says, looking at the ground, as if ashamed. I nod, remembering very well that damned jar, which made me sneeze for several minutes.

"You didn't read the label on that jar, did you?" He continues vaguely, so much so that nervous and without patience, I force him to look at me before answering him.

"Of course I didn't have time to look at it Az, go straight to the point." I say impatiently. His cheeks turn red, and he stammers something under his breath that I can't understand at first, so I ask him to repeat it. He raises his eyes and fixes his in mine, before repeating what he had tried to say before.

"It was sex pollen, the one that spilled on you." He says finally, and I feel the blood freeze in my veins, still in shock from the revelation he threw at me. "And according to Suriel, the only way to keep you from dying right now is to...well you know, go along with what your instincts are asking you to do."

"Thank you for explaining in such a nice way that I have to masturbate Az, really very nice." I say almost angry at him, even though I know I'm not really. I'm partly angry at myself for putting myself in that situation, but I can't do anything about it now, and now I'm also in danger of dying.

"Hey, I'm trying my best." He replies, scratching the back of his neck with his right hand, looking embarrassed.

"I know, I know Az, it's just-" I pause for a moment, trying to find a way to say it. I take a big breath and keep talking. "I've already tried touching myself, alone, down there, but it didn't do much good." I confess in a low voice, hoping he won't hear it, but unfortunately Shadowsinger's hearing is too acute to miss my confession. He freezes for a moment as if he is about to reason out what to do, then speaks again.

"I know." Azriel says in a guilty tone.

"What do you mean you know?" I ask shocked as I look at him, not understanding what he was referring to.

"Well the Suriel may or may not have told me that you would not be healed this way. "He continues as he watches the fire casting beams of light on the walls of the cave we are in. I stop again, and begin to reflect on all that I knew about these powders as I feel the pain getting worse and worse. By now I can feel my panties completely wet, as every single contact with what's around me unleashes a series of shivers that reaches to my core.

"I thought that was enough...well you get it. In all the books dealing with pollen with potential danger they say that's enough, be satisfied." I try to explain, as I draw a groan caused by my shifting which resulted in clenching my thighs together.

"I thought so too, but he said this doesn't count if-" He freezes as if he cannot find the words. I, growing more and more impatient, ask him aloud to continue.

"Az just doesn't seem like the time to be shy." I urge him to speak.

"He said it's not enough when you're in close proximity to your mate." He blurts out, standing up sharply. I squint my eyes not believing what my ears have just heard, but I immediately understand that feeling that has long been building in my heart toward my mate. Well I would say more than friend. I feel something forming in my chest that takes shape through a golden thread extending from my sternum to that of Azriel, who is currently turned his back to me as he looks out of the cave as if in the same there is the answer to this problem. Immediately I feel that silly happiness I felt at having found my mate, and that he was the man I actually loved all my life already disintegrating under the idea that he didn't want all that.

"You don't have to." I whisper, in the grip of ever-worsening cramps, but right now they seem like nothing more than mild pain compared to what my heart was feeling.

"You don't understand, if we don't do this, you will die and I won't let you die." He counters by turning around and dropping to his knees at my height looking me straight in the eye.

"I don't want your pity." I reply harshly as I try to get out of his sight, unable to do much given my condition, because I don't want him to see my suffering and the pain his rejection has triggered in me.

"No, I don't want my mate, the woman I've loved all my life to die and I'm pissed off at Mother because I didn't want it to happen like this between us the first time. I wanted to do everything right, take you to dinner, confess under the stars and then make love to you in my bed between the sheets I had specially chosen your favorite color, not on the floor in a stupid cave after risking our lives! When I knew you were my mate I wanted nothing more than to thank Mother, fate or whoever, but now I hate them because they had to pass the anger they vent on me to you, and I don't want to see you suffer because of me." He blurts out as he begins to walk around the cave again, then finishes his speech by looking at me. A strange light sparkles in his eyes, they look like the eyes of someone who loves to the point of being sick, to the point of suffering, and that love right now is directed at me. I can't believe his words, but that connection makes me feel that everything he just said is the truth, and immediately the happiness I lost a few moments ago returns, along with hope.

"We can still do it." I confess in a whisper and he immediately turns to me, his eyebrows furrowed over his beautiful eyes. "We can do it once we get home. We'll tell Rhys they can go screw him and his missions, and we'll take some time to figure this out and get used to it, and we can do everything you just said, because believe me I want to do all that with you."

"But?" He asks as he approaches.

"But now all I need is you fucking me as hard as you can in this shitty place so that I can stop dying and talk to you without having to moan every time." I say, as I grab his shirt with one hand, since he was now close enough to me, and kiss him with all the passion in my body.

I feel like I can finally breathe again as my lips on his, and I can already feel the pollen fade as the urge to feel Azriel inside me increases without measure.

"As my lady wishes." Whispers the Illiryan on my lips as we pull away from that breathless kiss. I immediately feel his lips graze my neck, to start biting and sucking on it as if his life depended on it. Every single movement of his lips and tongue made me touch the sky with one finger as I moaned his name as if I were a priestess intent on making a prayer and he the deity I believe in.

His lips then move from my neck to my breasts, where he begins to suck on my nipples like a hungry child. I bring my hands into his hair and pull them every time his tongue touches one of my sensitive spots.

"Baby doll, if you pull my hair one more time, I don't think I'll be able to keep myself from fucking you so hard I'll leave your silhouette on the floor of this place." He says pulling away for a moment to kiss my lips again.

My hands move down, and I begin to open his pants, while he begins to open mine.

"All words, I want to see some action." I reply, trying not to give away how much his words had affected me. He smirks, realizing that he actually made a mark with what he said, just brushing against my panties and feeling how wet they are.

"You will regret saying what you just said baby doll." Az replies, as with a quick gesture he enters of me. I didn't even notice that he had moved both my and his panties, but right now I don't care.

Feeling his cock inside me is an otherworldly experience. I can feel the walls of my pussy tighten around his sizable member as he tries to stay as still as possible to get me used to his size.

"Tell me if it hurts, or if you feel like you can't take it anymore, okay?" He asks softly, as he kisses my sweaty forehead. I feel the cramps from the sex pollen return, and I groan before I answer him.

"Az, I can't take it anymore, either you move or I swear I'm going to flip you over and start doing what I need to do on my own." I say, trying to move my hips slightly and create some friction, but he stops me, resting his hips on mine and giving that silly little smile that makes him so sexy.

"Oh, I can't wait to see you ride my cock, but I'd say leave that experience for another time. Tonight is just for you, and for your pleasure." He comments and then begins to move.

Immediately I feel every single part of the universe fall into place as he gradually increases his speed. My body seems to be persecuted everywhere with shivers of pleasure as his lips rest lightly on my breasts again. Between his mouth, his cock, and the sex pollen in my body my orgasm seems to come with a speed I never expected.

"Please Az, don't stop." I say groaning, feeling the pleasure grow more and more every second.

"Oh baby I could never deprive myself of the feeling of my cock against your cervix. You're going to come, aren't you?" She whispers back as I try to nod. "Then we'll come together love."

"Yes, please Az fill me." I continue, and I feel her muscles tense even more under my touch.

"Honey don't challenge me, you know I could fuck you so hard you wouldn't walk tomorrow even if you prayed to Mother." He counters by increasing his speed.

"It would certainly be worth it." I answer as I now feel I am on the edge of oblivion, just one thrust would be enough to sink into pleasure. I hold my breath for a moment as I feel him move for the last time before my body begins to move in convulsions of pleasure, and my vision becomes totally blurred.

I feel him releasing all his semen inside me shortly after coming, and I feel him lying on top of me, relaxing.

We stay like that for a few minutes before he starts laughing. I look at him not understanding why he is laughing until he explains himself.

"God, I guess in the end I will have Rhys to thank for this mission." Whispers Az.

"Actually it wasn't that bad." I comment, laughing in turn.

"Let's say it had its upsides." He replies with a wink. "But don't think it's over here, wait until you get home, and when I'm done with you the only thing you'll remember is my name."

Yes I would say we definitely have Rhys to thank.

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[thoughtsfromlayla]

☾ The Prince of Stories and his unbridled ability to avoid all possible clichés.

Summary: After an unsuccessful hunt of a rouge nightmare with your new teammate Dream of the Endless, the two of your find solace in a inn. It doesn't go to plan, nothing ever goes to plan.

Notes: ~1.5k words, we love you Meowpheus we all say in unison

Warnings/Tags: Dream x MonsterHunter!Reader, mentions the Blair witch, Morpheus is one dense motherfucker

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Previous <==> Next

You’re wet. And not in a fun way if you’re allowed to complain about it. You’re drenched, head to toe in late-night London rain, your hair stuck to your scalp. Your clothes are starting to turn itchy against your skin as you bring your hands to wipe away the accumulation of rainwater that clung to your face. A horse-drawn carriage runs past the two of you and drenches you further in mud and water. Great.

You risk a peak at Morpheus, who does not seem at all bothered by the rain. If you squint your eyes, you can see that the rain doesn’t even touch him, rather the water droplets simply pass through him. 

The inn you walked in was warm and dry, perfect for your tired and aching bones. It takes you no time to spot the innkeeper and you drag your soggy shoes over to him, placing your hands on the table with rushed desperation.

“Room and board, please,” you ask. 

The innkeeper looks between you and Morpheus, noting the disheveled state, and nods. “One room left, but… single bed, not suited for non-marital couples.” 

“Yeah, whatever, give me the key,” you don’t even bother to think on it, you are not going back out there. You slam down a silver coin and snatch the metal key from the innkeeper.

Your footsteps are heavy on the stairs and everyone else will think you are the most undesirable young lady of the ton, but do you care? No! This dress is damn heavy when it’s full of rainwater and your boots are soggy and muddy and your corset is digging into your ribs and this cloak was starting to overstimulate you like no other. 

After arriving in the room and tossing the key onto some old dresser, you head straight for the bathroom, ridding your clothes with desperate haste. The clothes stick to your skin and it’s like trying to separate the fruit from its syrup in the jar. Slow, antagonising slow as fitful and you’re on the brink of tears. From under your dress, you pull out the small crossbow, and whip, and silver bolts, and—huh, when did you snatch this stake? Your monster hunting equipment is the only thing you take care of as you gently place them on the bathroom counter. 

Dream, meanwhile, stands in the middle of the room like a shadow that came from no light. He is perfectly dry and warm, not that something as trivial as weather could affect him. Your footsteps had left wet footprints all over the floor and he simply watches them dry while you finish your bath. 

“I needed that,” you sigh as you come out. “You can bathe now, if you need it.”

“I do not need to bathe,” Morpheus says slowly. 

“Okay, gross, but that’s your decision, I suppose,” you grumble. It’s now that your attention draws to the bed. The singular bed in the room. It was large enough for two, if two people were pressed up against each other chest to back. “One bed…” you observe out loud. 

“As the innkeeper mentioned.” Morpheus’ voice comes out like a mocking reminder. You weren’t really paying attention to what the innkeeper was saying. 

“It’s…” you sigh deep, your bones are tired and you just want to sleep. “It’s fine, I’ll sleep on the floor. Wouldn’t want your royal highness to sleep on something that hard.” You continue to mutter to yourself as you grab one of the pillows and setting it in front of the fireplace. 

“No need,” Morpheus says slowly, stopping your actions. “I do not sleep.”

A beat of silence passes between you, the goose feather pillow still in your hand as you give a confused look to Morpheus. “You’re Dream of the Endless. You personify the sleeping mind, the unconscious, the dreams of humankind.”

Dream nods once.

“And you don’t sleep?” You probe further, the very notion baffling to yourself. 

Dream nods again. 

“Okay, whatever, good night,” you mutter to yourself. Maybe if you were more awake and less beaten down by the weather you would ask more. But, for lack of a better term, you don’t give a fuck right now. 

Your tired body slips easily into the bed, the sound of the fireplace cracking and the water slamming into the window with distant thunder easily lulling you to sleep. Except for the towering figure standing in the middle of the inn room. 

You sit up, gripping the wool blanket in your hands. “Can you… I don’t know, not do that?”

“What?”

“Stand in the middle of the room when I’m trying to sleep. Act more human, you’re in the human world now.” You look at him, tired eyes raking his figure up and down. 

“What would a human do?”

“Sleep, but you don’t so go downstairs and drink or—”

“I do not partake in alcohol,” Morpheus interrupts.

“Go shopping then,” you offer instead.

“I hold no monetary properties, they are useless to me.” 

“Oh, my God.” You want to scream into your pillow but instead, you take a deep breath. “Go stand in the corner or something, shit!” You sneer, feeling impatient, and fall back onto the bed, turning away from him. 

You take another deep breath, trying to ease the frown that’s etched onto your forehead. You’re going to get wrinkles before you’re 50 at this point. The floorboard creaks slightly under Morpheus’ footsteps as he does as he’s instructed, standing in the corner of the room. Still, he watches over you as you drift off into his realm.

He doesn’t probe, despite his growing desire to do so, knowing that the day you’ve experienced was hard and demanding indeed. He gives you no dreams, letting you simply sleep and rest. Hours pass and he remains in the corner, vigilant as ever.

A particularly harsh and loud boom of thunder wakes you up, the sound close enough to rattle the window panes. You wake with a start, your heart racing in your chest and your fingers wrap around the dagger you kept under the pillow. You swallow as you realize there was no immediate danger, that it was merely the storm. 

Morpheus was no longer standing in the center of the room, much to your surprise. You wouldn’t have been surprised if he didn’t listen to you at all. What you find isn’t any better and a scream that you let out is covered by another boom of thunder. 

His figure, black and nightmarish extends like tendrils that crawl along the brick walls of the tavern. His eyes are set on you, not even reacting to the way you screamed at him and when you look back on this moment, you’ll remember that he even rolls his eyes, but in the presence you’re adrenaline is only telling you to get out. 

“It is Morpheus, simply,” his voice is quiet and calming against the storm. 

At his announcement you stopped your scream, dropping your head into your hands at the realization. His actions remind you of another supernatural creature you hunted a month ago. The Blair Witch was one of your most terrifying adventures and you weren’t even successful in eradicating her. To this day, she still hunts the forest of Blair, her silhouette follows you everywhere you go. 

“You scared me,” you swallow your beating heart. 

“You instructed to stand in the corner,” Morpheus reminds you, his voice rumbles just like the now distant thunder. After seeing the sweat coating your hairline, he lets out a small huff. “It was not my intention.”

“Can you… turn around or something? Staring at me is weird and… creepy,” you grimace. 

After a few moments, Morpheus turns, his shoulder sagging as he turns his back to you. After another few silent seconds, you click your tongue. “Never mind, that just makes it worse. Somehow.”

You lay back down on the bed, a grunt leaving you at the force. You stare the the rotting wood of the support beams of the roof above you. Tracing your eyes over the natural swirls and rings in the logs but that doesn’t bring you sleep. You’re acutely aware of Morpheus’ presence in the corner and your mind recalls to the Blair Witch. You got a few hours of sleep, it’s fine, you’ll live. 

“Mrrrp?” A trill interrupts your dooming thoughts and a fluffy black cat eclipses your vision of the roof. 

“Morpheus?” You ask quietly, his paws pushing down on your arm and it felt like the weight of the world on both of those legs. 

Morpheus bunts his head against your cheek in confirmation before making himself a spot between your side and your arm, curling in on himself. 

“I can work with this,” you sigh, feeling your muscles relax. Your hand rests on his side, feeling the silky long fur and the slow rise and fall of his breathing. Morpheus purrs, the sound cradling you back into sleep.

As always, thanks for reading :)

♡ Yours, Layla

Main Masterlist | Series Masterlist

Previous <==> Next

[dyns33]

A story of witch

Happy Valentine day !

As a gift, here a looooooooong Morpheus x female reader.

Careful, some spoilers here, from the comics and so maybe from season 2.

Time had a different hold on witches.

A certain influence, because contrary to common beliefs, nothing escaped time and nothing was perfectly eternal, but it slipped over them as long as they decided, and had enough magic to repel its effects.

Y/N had already been walking on Earth for several centuries when she met Morpheus.

She had heard many legends about the Endless. Rumors. Lots of warnings, especially regarding Dream, who was described as a changeable, dangerous, angry and resentful being.

Her many sisters whispered to each other that becoming his lover was as much a gift as a curse. He would offer you the whole world on a platter, he would do everything to please you, and then one day, without warning, you would no longer suit him, you would do something wrong according to him, the feelings would no longer be as strong, and then misfortune would strike you.

The king would always find a way to blame you for this new emotional failure. Then you risked Hell, endless nightmares, eternal sleep.

Too much hassle for little benefit.

Y/N didn’t think about any of that when she met Morpheus. Neither to the wonders he could offer her, nor to the torments he risked inflicting on her.

For a witch, some might have thought that she was young, still naive, far too in love with her books and grimoires, fascinated by stories, and therefore vulnerable to the charms of the dreams master.

She didn't think she would fall in love. Neither did he. The mourning of his marriage and his child were still recent, for a being such as him. Y/N had barely been born when this tragedy had happened.

The subject was not brought up, like none of his former lovers. Morpheus did not forget, he never forgot, but when a new relationship began, he did not look back to compare with the previous ones.

No doubt it was a mistake on his part, who then never learned from his mistakes.

Y/N hadn’t had as many relationships as him. Witches have the luxury of immortality, and they knew the consequences of it. Bonding with mortals wasn't a good idea, even less so with their peers. Too risky. Too dangerous.

Attempting to see the future in dreams could have been described with the same words. Y/N was taking the risk of being punished by two Endless, Destiny and Dream.

But Destiny never interfered in anything, and Dream was intrigued by the little witch, asking her not to repeat her experiments, but welcoming her into his domain.

As they walked in his garden, the inhabitants of the Dreaming knew before them what was going to happen.

"Your flowers are beautiful. Everything is beautiful here."

“Would you like to see my library ?”

"Oh, I'd love to ! But you must have a lot to do, I don't want to bother you more than necessary."

"You don't bother me, mikri magissa. You are welcome here."

It took a while for Y/N to realize that they were getting closer. The courting of the king of stories was subtle, ethereal like him, full of poems and tenderness while doing without many words far too heavy with meaning, and at the same time far too limited to convey all the ardor of their love.

Because they loved each other, there was no doubt about it. The end of their story came quickly, although to a mortal three centuries seemed like a lot. At the same time, those who knew Morpheus well could testify that this was quite a long time for a relationship with him. But as always with his relationships, there had to be an end.

“I’m just saying he’s not wrong.”

"You don't know what you're talking about, o mágos mou. This man is insane and I'm not lonely."

“However, I have felt you far from me for some time now. Perhaps forever.”

"Don't I love you more than anything ? Haven't I shown you my love on many occasions ?"

"I don't know. It's difficult for me to know with you, immutable and yet so variable. Sometimes you give so much, too much, and sometimes not enough, if it's not nothing. There is no middle ground with you. Probably not with me either. It's possible that I'll ask you impossible things."

“Nothing is impossible for me.”

“Yet you refuse to speak, to really speak. You flee this kind of discussion, as you fled the friendship of this man.”

“Don’t push me, Agápe μου.”

Y/N left the Dreaming that night knowing she wasn’t coming back. Morpheus' indifference to her departure could have been seen as fortunate, but it hurt her deeply. He didn't try to catch her, he didn't try to punish her either.

Even though it seemed obvious after several weeks that he would not pursue her, neither in her dreams nor in the Waking, Y/N took precautions to prevent their paths from crossing again. Using several spells, rituals, amulets and ancient seals, she ensured that her mind was cut off from the realm of her former lover.

This protection proved very useful when the sleeping sickness arrived.

Like the rest of the world, Y/N didn't immediately understand what was happening. She knew Dream enough to know that he would never neglect his work like that, that he would not abandon his position unless forced to do so, and that despite all the cruelty and resentment he was capable of, he would never do such a thing to the dreamers.

Something had happened, but she didn't know what.

Too afraid of what he could do to her if she went into the Dreaming, or what could happen to her sleep without the protections, Y/N didn't try to find out. It wasn't her business anyway, since they were no longer together and the fate of humanity wasn't part of her responsibilities.

Time continued to pass, and she still tried to help mortals when she could, with potions and incantations to help them sleep, or on the contrary wake up, ensuring that their nights were not entirely nightmares.

But this was difficult, because she was not the master of dreams. Without knowing it, she came very close to Morpheus the day her steps led her near a mansion with dark, gloomy energies, which she did not wish to approach too closely. However, there was something, abandoned under a tree near the property, which attracted her with strong force.

The body of a raven. A raven different from the others, a dream. Jessamy. Someone had shot her and she lay there, lifeless, far from her creator, far from her home.

Y/N took the poor thing with her. Necromancy being prohibited, it was not good to anger Death, and the existence of dreams being a complex thing, she did the only thing in her power, to offer a decent burial to the little emissary whom she had loved very much and who had often helped her control Morpheus' moods.

When collective sleep returned to normal, there were no signs. Nothing that made it possible to understand what had happened. Curious by nature, the witch repeated to herself that she should not try to understand. The rumors would spread quickly.

She heard about Burgess. Whispers recounted the long confinement of the maker of nightmares, who had taken revenge before setting off in search of his stolen instruments in order to rebuild his kingdom. Twice he went to the Underworld, he faced a Vortex, he fell in love. Nothing really new, just the same story over and over again.

Y/N didn’t want to know any of this, but the choice wasn’t hers. One of her sisters came to visit without being invited, and to ask her advice.

“I don’t see how I can help you, big sister.”

"You have experienced what I am experiencing. Tell me how to escape from Oneiros, because I no longer wish to see him and he does not seem ready to accept it."

The rumors had not mentioned the fact that Morpheus had fallen in love with a witch again. Older than Y/N, more powerful, crueler too, because Thessaly had little interest in things of the heart.

" … I repeat, I'm not sure I can help you. Make sure you don't inspire him with any more feelings and you'll be free."

"Sweet little sister, he still loves you and yet he left you alone. I'm asking for this."

"He doesn't love me. He didn't love me for a long time when I left."

"We argued often and each time my wing of the castle was razed and then rebuilt under his orders. There is no trace of his former companions left in all of the Dreaming. None, except you. He did not touch your room. He denied me access to it. He recreated it with everything else after his return. Can you tell me that doesn't mean anything ?"

Y/N didn’t respond. She didn't know what to answer, she didn't know about all this. Her eldest whispered that she was almost jealous. Many times she had wondered if she had gotten his attention because of their similarities, because she reminded him of his lost love.

It might be a good idea for her younger sister to discuss it with the Lord of Dreams.

"Or not. That would allow me to slip away without him probably noticing, but I can't wish harm on one of ours. I'll find a way."

This time, Y/N closed herself off to the whispers, not wanting to know if Thessaly had found this way.

Part of her wished the best for the lord of stories, who had suffered far too much in the last century despite all his wrongs, and who did not deserve to receive another injury. Another part didn't like knowing the older witch was with Dream.

She was afraid for her sister, and she was afraid for Morpheus, whose fickle heart was more fragile than he wanted to admit. The consequences were likely to be terrible for everyone.

Filled with memories, Y/N wanted to visit Jessamy’s grave. A powerful spell had hidden it from the eyes of the world, to prevent it from being desecrated, and she wondered if she had not made a mistake in doing so, for it was possible that Morpheus had never known where his faithful emissary rested.

But the magic of ravens was special, these beings knew things, and she shouldn't have been surprised to find one of them on the tree that protected the location.

"Good morning." she said politely, making new flowers appear near the grave.

"Hi. Do we know each other ? I feel like I know you."

"I don't think we've ever met. You're Dream's new raven."

"Yeah, Matthew. I don't know why I'm here. I'm sort of drawn to it, and Lucienne told me to follow my instincts for this sort of thing, but I don't understand. Are you the one calling me ?"

“I think it’s more your predecessor that you are feeling.”

"Jessamy ? Oh… The boss thought her body was destroyed or something. Were you the one who buried her ? That's nice of you. You don't look really surprised to see a talking raven. I feel like I'm supposed to know you. You seem important."

"Not really, no."

"The boss could tell me but he's busy at the moment. He's accompanying his sister on a quest. Good, it's keeping him busy. It's been raining too much since his break up, it's been days. Merv told me that it was almost always like that, frankly it's painful to watch. The time with this Nada, the time with his ex-wife, the time with another witch… I don't know what he has with witches. I didn't like her at all, she was mean."

“It rained in the Dreaming when I left ?” Y/N couldn’t help but ask, surprised by the news.

Before that day, she had always believed that her departure had had no impact. A total, cold indifference, showing that she no longer mattered. But Thessaly had talked about her room, and Matthew had talked about the rain, and Y/N didn't know what to think at all now.

She had left Morpheus because of his inability to communicate, the distance he put between himself and the whole world. His grand declarations of love always seemed hollow, lacking something.

Maybe he had changed. He would never have allowed his emissary to speak as Matthew did, who was moving around on his tree asking a thousand questions about the relationship between his boss and Y/N. He even allowed himself to order her to leave, because he really didn't need Dream falling into depression again by seeing her through his eyes.

"He's got enough problems, he… Oh. Oh, no. I feel it, he's there. Shit, shit, shit. I have to go !"

Years without any news and within moments Y/N hearing about her former lover almost every day. Until someone came to her door and she found herself face to face with Morpheus.

He seemed embarrassed. He had always been awkward in the waking world, out of place, because dreams hardly survived in reality. But there was something else. He would never have bothered to knock before. He would have come into her house to say what he had to say, demanding that she listen to him, and agree with him at the end.

Without saying anything, he observed her as if he were seeing her for the first time, turning his gaze towards her bedroom, the door of which was surrounded by several symbols used to repel dreams and nightmares. Y/N expected this to make him angry. He had already not liked her touching his domain when they first met.

"I thought you followed my sister into the sunless lands…" he whispered, looking down. "I no longer felt your presence in the Dreaming. I didn't think you were running away from me. It didn't seem to me that I gave you reasons to run away."

“I wasn’t sure you’d be happy to see me again.”

"I have waited a long time for the day when I would have the joy of seeing your sweet face again. It never came, but I am the one responsible for it. You were right about Hob Gadling, You were right about many things but I didn't listen, and I lost you. It was one of my greatest regrets."

“Why are you talking like that ?” Y/N asked as she approached, their hands almost touching.

"Mikri magissa, so much has happened. I am at a crossroads, with a big decision to make. I admit to being afraid, and you give me courage."

“Maybe I can help you ?”

"Even if you could, I wouldn't ask you. The search for my little sister is dangerous, a lot of blood has been shed since we left in search of our brother and I couldn't bear to see it happen to you. I had agreed to help her to see someone again, without understanding that it was you I secretly wanted to see, and now I must find a way to console my sister, disappointed by my lack of investment. But the only way we have left is one that I dare not name."

Y/N had briefly met Morpheus' family, including Destruction and Delirium.

The prodigal had spoken to her little before his retirement, but he had seemed tired, reaching the limits of his functions and no longer seeing the point of remaining with all the inventions of mortals and immortals which fulfilled his role perfectly without he needs to intervene. His siblings did not understand his decision.

One of the most affected by his departure had been Delirum, very close to his brother, who would have given anything for a family reunion.

"If this means your downfall, I can't believe Delirium would ask such a thing of you." Y/N said indignantly, not daring to come any closer. “There must be something else.”

"I don't think my younger sister is aware of what she's asking of me, nor do I think it's possible for me to go any other way without putting someone else in danger. I just came to see you, and thank you for what you did for Jessamy, and for the dreamers during my absence. I hadn't seen all these acts of kindness. But maybe it's you who didn't want to see me again. Not with my behavior. Oh, mágos mou… I so wanted to be better for you, but I could only change by going through all these trials, and for that I had to lose you."

It felt like goodbye, and Y/N didn’t like it. By definition, the Endless had no end, at least not while there was life in the universe. Without thinking, she placed her hand on Dream's cheek. He usually hated it, being touched, especially without permission, but he closed his eyes with a happy sigh, pressing his skin against hers.

Asking him if he was okay seemed stupid, but the question left her lips, and when his eyes opened again, they had a strange glow. He muttered that no one had asked him that question since his release. It was almost years ago. In truth, no one had asked him that question, even before he was captured.

Like he said, it could be because he had changed, and he didn't really deserve to be asked if he was okay before. And now that he was making an effort, that he was understanding, that he was improving, it was too late.

"I'll find a way. I'll talk to your sister."

“Delirium has always loved you.” he sighed. "My whole family, I think. I never noticed that our relationship is the only one that Desire hasn't tried to sabotage. But maybe they knew that I would sabotage it on my own."

“Let me talk to her.”

Much to Morpheus' surprise, his younger sister listened to Y/N. She even seemed to become Delight again for a moment, as the witch promised to find Destruction, even if it would take time. She just had to be patient, but also accept that it was possible that their brother didn't want to be found.

It was his decision to leave, as it was her decision to change, and Dream's decision to stay the same. But if she asked him to continue their quest, horrible things could happen, and she might lose another member of her family.

"… Okay. But you promise to look ?"

“I swear on our mother’s first ledger.”

"Several people have died trying to help us, Delirium… It's not safe to…"

"Oh, shut up. You'll be with her to protect her, you didn't care about the others. You're probably happy that Y/N came back. I'm happy too, she's nice, you two were good together. If you find our brother, then everything will be perfect."

Several spells, formulas and sacrifices were necessary to find the trail of the Prodigal, or Destruction took pity on them by inviting them to join him, but they talked, and as Y/N had predicted, he did not wish to return, but he entrusted them with a dog to give to his little sister.

Before disappearing between the stars, he took his big brother by the hand, walking together near the cliff, and whispering something to him.

"What did he say ?" Y/N couldn’t help but ask.

"He told me not to make the same mistakes and to think about myself for once. Not about my position, not about my kingdom, about nothing but me, and about you. O mágos mou, it's been a long time, but if you…"

The kiss cut him off in the middle of his question, time seemed to stop, and it was as if they had never left each other.

[gaypirate420]

Moonshine and Starlight //Dream*

Dream* of the Endless x witch!GN!reader.

Summary: Morpheus helps you sleep.

Angst/Fluff. Dream and Reader being divorced..

A/N: Probably ooc because I haven't written for my husband for so long.

"What's the matter, Matthew?" The words of the King of Dreams echoed through the wide halls of the entrance to his palace.

The Dream Lord found his raven very busy in another matter, that being melting onto your touch while he nuzzled on your lap.

"We have a visitor, my lord." Was all the raven could respond as your gentle fingers brushed down the feathers of his head making him caw.

"Why are you here?" He asked not really knowing what tone should he use with you.

"I'm afraid I'm not here because I wanted to see you, but because I have a problem with dreams, my lord." You said mockingly as you caressed the feather's of the new raven before standing up and meeting his star filled eyes and long figure, those black ropes dripping down the marble floor.

"Enlighten me then. What kind of problems are dreams causing you, dream witch?" Morpheus muttered with the silky smooth voice that you adore, you took his arm and begin to walk, seeming so normal, muscle memory perhaps.

"It must be something important if it makes you come to my palace after two hundred years. Something that goes beyond the centuries of knowledge you possess." He spoke gently. You smirked and looked at him and although his gaze remained emotionless but you know when your ex-husband is teasing you.

"A client of mine. She's been having this— weird dreams about her family telling her very specific things." You explained as you begin to walk alongside the Endless, the night sky that lied above your head on the palace's ceiling captured your eyes.

You stoped for a moment to look at it, missing it's beauty.

"I've been looking inside her dreams, trying to decipher their meaning." You continues with a tone of slight frustration before meeting his gaze, noticing his starry eyes looking at your every moment.

"You came here just to ask the meaning of some mortal's dream?" Morpheus asked as his eyes took in your image, you smirked again and shaked your head.

"No. I don't give up that easily, Oneiros." You smirked with smugness, the Dream Lord mimicked your smirk.

"I never said you did. Why is it that you're here then, moonshine?" He asked as he walked you through to the large halls of the palace.

Moonshine, what a nickname to give someone, specially coming from the Lord of Dreams. The Endless that finds you as bright as the shine of the moon, a signal of light in darkness.

It's been so long since he's mutter such nickname.

"Well, It's been costing me my sleeping hours, but that's not new— the things is when I do sleep I have dreamless rest or the most horrible nightmares." You whispered, there was a linger of anger on your tone.

"I came here to ask you something, Dream."

"Ask away, moonshine."

"Have I done something wrong? Something to deserve this punishment, perhaps?" Your whispers makes him stop on his tracks, his eyes meet yours. The Lord of Dreams face had an expression one of confusion and deep sadness.

"Do you think that is my doing? You think of yourself worth of a punishment so severe?" He whispers back, his eyes looking at your tired eyes, the darks circles under them.

"Do you think I would do such thing as that to you?"

You stayed silent, looking away from his gaze. His pale hand cupped your cheek, you gasped and a silent tear fell down your cheek which was wiped by his thumb that consequently held your chin and make you meet his eyes once more.

"The answer is no. I am not punishing you because those night terrors that invade your sleep were not send by me, moonshine." He whispered with such conviction.

As in saying "Believe me. I could never harm you."

"And you have never wrong me nor this realm. You've been an impecable aid and- companion for me." He stated, you smiled and felt yourself blushing, a yawn scaped your lips and his gaze softened.

"Am I boring you, moonshine?" Morpheus smirked you looked at him with sleepy eyes.

"It's not my fault your voice is so comforting and I'm- exhausted for my work and the horrible sleep I've had." You explained before smiling.

"Comforting?" The Dream Lord asked, you nodded and looked up at him with a smile.

"Soothing. Perfect for listening while you fall asleep." You explained before yawning again.

Feeling his hand on the back of your neck and in a matter of second you were lied down on the softest of mattresses, resting your head on a pillow that could pass for a cloud.

You looked up and met the most beautiful night sky you've ever seen, pink and purple surrounded with constellations.

The bed itself was almost floating in between marble floors and the night sky.

This is the room of Dream of the Endless himself.

"Why are you not sleeping yet?" Morpheus's voice snap you back to reality, you meet his eyes that now shine with the reflections of the galaxy that surrounds you.

"I dunno, maybe you've lost your touch." You teased, The Dream Lord furrowed his eyebrows but his lips let out a soft chuckle.

"Perhaps you're just stubborn." He whispered while his slim finger caress your cheek, you leaned on his touch so quickly that it made you disappointed in yourself but it felt so good.

"Those nightmares won't bother you again, my moonshine." Morpheus stated as his fingers kept moving across your face with delicacy.

"Why am I in your room? There's like two hundred guest rooms." You asked as your eyes closed. Dream fell silent for a second.

"Because I- want you here." He started speaking so softly almost as if he was embarrassed to say it, you nodded for him to continue.

"Your precense on The Dreaming has been missed, the creatures of the dreaming had voiced that sentiment many times." The Endless continued, his mouth still slight open, you could picture him trying to find the right words.

You nodded once more, it always difficult for him to speak his emotions and needs.

"The haunted dolls of my shop miss you." You spoke sleepy, The Dream Lord arched his eyebrow and smirked as his hand moved to your hair, touching it with a hint of shyness, thinking if he's still allowed to do such motion. Afraid of crossing any lines or boundaries.

"The- dolls? Do you miss me, perchance?" He asked with a uncharacteristically shy and insecure voice, you opened your eyes.

"Do you, Oneiros? Or just the creatures of your realm?" You snapped back with a smirk. He leaned closer to you, the stars in his eyes shining bright, his thumb stroked your bottom lip as his eyes got lost on yours.

"Yes." Morpheus whispered with a discreet but playful smile once that 'yes' was heard by you.

"I do miss you, moonshine."

You closed your eyes once more after his words, so much sincerity and raw devotion within such a short sentence.

"I miss you too, starlight." You whispered back with a smile, Morpheus smirked and kept stroking your hair.

How has he missed that nickname.

A play of words with the one he has for you.

Starlight. The light of a start that accompanies the shining moon at night. He wonders how, of all things, you could see him as a star.

The drowsiness was unbearable now for you.

The last thing you felt before falling asleep was a gentle kiss on your forehead.

"Sleep well, moonshine." Morpheus whispered against your ear, making you fall into a deep and much needed rest, filled with the sweetest dreams one could imagine of.

And of course, The Dream king holding your hand all the time, supervising these dreams.

——————————————————————

A/N: Heyyyyyyy, it's been a while since I've wrote for my husband, ugh, I love him, I always enjoy writing for him, it just so right. Hope you liked this!

[jiliansky-blog]

Sandman Masterlist

Started: December 18th, 2022

Morpheus X OC, Morpheus x Reader

Bounded

Prologue

Chapter 1.

Chapter 2. Morpheus

Chapter 3. Accident

Chapter 4. Dreams and Nightmares

Chapter 5. Feelings

Chapter 6. Uninvited guests

Final chapter. Hope

The power of love

Prologue

Day 1. You had me at hello.  

Day 2. I don’t know you, but I want to

Day 3. Two broken souls

Day 4. The beginning of something new

Day 5. Warmer in the winter with you

Day 6. Baby, it’s cold outside

Day 7. My true love gave to you

Day 8. Last Christmas I gave you my heart

Day 9. Time to fall in love

Day 10. The most wonderful time of the year

Day 11. You’re mean one, Mr.Grinch

Day 12. I won’t freeze you out

Day 13. Crazy for Christmas

Day 14. Let it snow

Day 15. Let it go

Day 16. Sing for my life

Day 17. Every day is Christmas with you by my side

Day 18. Snowflake

Day 19. Just like Christmas

Day 20. You make it feel like Christmas

Day 21. Jingle bells

Day 22. Stay another day

Day 23. Underneath the Christmas lights

Day 24. Christmas Eve

Day 25. Everything I want for Christmas is you

Final chapter. Happy New Year

Dreamwalker

Prologue

Chapter 1. Into the Dreaming

Chapter 2. Discovering the power

Chapter 3. Lord Morpheus

Chapter 4. You are not alone

Chapter 5. Emotions

Chapter 6. The heart’s desire

Chapter 7. Keep my heart safe

Epilogue

Tale as old as time

Prologue

Day 1. Arrival

Day 2. In the light of new day

Day 3. Mystery

Day 4. The flower

Day 5. Healing

Day 6. A sudden guest

Day 7. Butterflies and confessions

Day 8. Pay back

Day 9. Deep inside my heart

Day 10. The ball and the escape

Day 11. Home is a place where your heart is

Final chapter. The words of love

Cat of dreams

Chapter 1

Chapter 2

Chapter 3

Chapter 4

Chapter 5

Chapter 6

Chapter 7

Last chapter

The god of dreams

Part 1. The greek vocation. Chapter 1.

Chapter 2

Chapter 3

Chapter 4

Chapter 5

Chapter 6

Chapter 7

Chapter 8

Chapter 9

Chapter 10

Final chapter

Witch's love

Chapter 1. A long time ago

Chapter 2. Old flame of love

Chapter 3. I still care

Final chapter. You won't be alone.

The Labyrinth of dreams

Chapter 1. King of goblins

Chapter 2. King of nightmares

Chapter 3. A world beyond

Chapter 4. Heart’s decision

Chapter 5. Where your loyalty lies

Chapter 6. The ball

Chapter 7. You have no power over me

Final chapter. Happy ending

In the dark

Chapter 1. Unexpected guest

Chapter 2. The beginning of something new

Chapter 3. The mistake

Chapter 4. Through the fairy woods

Chapter 5. The fairy realm

Chapter 6. Confrontation

Chapter 7. Trials

Chapter 8. Looking for the fern flower

Chapter 9. Final task

The final chapter. A win of true love

[madhattervanessa]

Valerian Root

This is a blurb I have been writing on for a while - it might spin off into a longer fic but I’m not sure I’ll ever upload it... if I’ll ever do it, you’ll find it on ao3

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Pairing: Morpheus/Dream of the Deathless x f!Witch!Reader

Summary: As you suffer from another wave of migraines, an unexpected guest returns to your home to take care of you... in more ways than one.

Warnings: Migraines, consensual-ish drugging (It’s for the reader’s health) and sudden appearing in readers living spaces, nipple play, biting, scratching, grinding/dry humping, rough-ish p in v sex

Words: 4646

Masterlist - Mobile Masterlist

“I seldomly see you return this often, little witch.”

Your eyes stray from the beautiful scenery and towards the edge of your dream, the fibrillation coming from the deep timbre catching your attention - because despite opium and valerian root making for potent sleep and pain aiding drugs, this was not one of the usual effects.

You find him wandering through the darkness at the edge of the clearing before he manages to come closer, through the soft grass and into the light.

His long coat swishes through the moss and ferns as he slowly approaches, like someone attempting to feed a stray cat. Centuries of experience make him know to be careful - your dreams had always been fragile bubbles of calm and you’d grown protective of them even as a child. Now, more than ever, he was reminded of your first few meetings.

He knows, even cats who have grown docile will bite if given reason.

You purse your lips and avert your eyes towards a pile of books off to the side. He lets his eyes trail over you, the long, lightweight gown that floats just shy off the ground as you sway back and forth on the padded swing you sprawled out on.

He stops just shy of the swing, his presence carefully pushing into your personal space, gently intruding, waiting for you to pounce, retreat… or stay.

His coat is shed as he takes another form, jumping up into the swing with you to rub a soft cheek against your bare leg, carefully nudging the thin fabric covering you.

You smile and set your eyes upon the large, black cat nuzzling into your skin. You reach out and carefully pet his chin, moving on to his cheek before it smashes against your skin again.

A low rumbling purr starts as you continue caressing the soft fur behind his jaw, your other hand reaching for a book to read.

You keep the illusion for a while but then the walls of it shudder again and a slither of pain runs down your spine as the connection to your body strengthens again, the dreaming barely holding on.

-

You groan as you wake, still trying to hold on to the comfort your dream had brought you but it’s too late: The sharp pain and thrumming behind your eyes has returned with viciousness. You forcefully try to relax the muscles in your face as you look over your sun filled apartment.

It’s of no use, though.

So you carefully detangle from your sheets and pad through your apartment towards the kitchen. 

There’s already some darkness creeping over the smooth tiles there. You sigh as the first step brings a cooling sensation underneath the soles of your feet, a short lived comfort.

You click the electric kettle on and grab a fresh thermos before filling it with your hand mixed tea as well as some honey.

As you wait for the water to boil, you hear the pearl curtain in your hallway clatter softly, despite it being absolutely windless in your apartment.

You’ve reached for a knife without much thinking. Your heartbeat immediately feels more prominent than your nausea as you peek around the fridge, down towards the hallway.

No one there.

You’re about to sign off of it being all in your imagination. But checking other rooms would not hurt. It had never been a bad idea in any century.

The kettle clicks and you hear as the water starts boiling.

But as you take a step backwards, the hair on the back of your neck stands and goosebumps litter your arms as you feel a presence stepping closer.

“Put the knife down, little witch.”

You jump, despite the soft murmur, and the knife clatters to the ground.

Two hands quickly envelop your shoulders and pull you back, the knife’s edge only just missing your bare feet.

You turn your head. “Morpheus”, you murmur, returning the fond look he has leveled at you, his hands slowly smoothing down your arms as he takes you in. “I- I have not called upon you-”

“I made time, after sensing your distress.”

He lets you go and carefully picks up the knife from the ground. Meanwhile you are still standing, quite starstruck, trying to make sense of this.

The last time you had seen him had been just months ago, a brief meeting after a hundred or more years of his disappearance. Nothing but a quick reassurance that he was back and would return to you once the rebuilding of the dreaming was done. Paired with a short request to look after a particular member of the Constantine family.

He strolls past you and into the kitchen. As you turn to follow him, another wave of nausea crashes against you and you hold on to the doorframe before deciding to sit down at the desk on the other side of the hallway.

The clinking and clattering from the kitchen grates against your sensitive nerves and you hesitantly open an eye to watch as he fills a teacup with boiling water before sprinkling some of your tea mixture into it.

The clattering stops and you close your eyes again, trying to focus on the distinct silence and the way the air seems filled with his presence.

A soft touch to your knee makes you open your eyes again to find Morpheus kneeling in front of you, the cup of tea in one hand and a small, white pill in the other.

You roll your eyes, contrary to your smile, despite the pain it causes.

“You know I don’t like painkillers-”

“Amuse me.”

You glare at him, your smile falling as you look back towards his offerings. As you reach for the teacup, purposefully ignoring the pill, he levels another soft and openly amused look at you.

“I’ll have the tea. Thank you”, you murmur and he sighs before tilting his head in silent acceptance.

You tentatively sip at your tea, finding at the perfect temperature. He watches closely as he gets up and you take another gulp. The pill is placed on the desk, well in sight of your weary eyes.

“Have it your way, then.”

“I always do. You know Hecate makes sure of it.”

The reference to the Moirai makes him straighten up for a second before he smiles - no doubt catching your remark as what it is. 

You had not just idled around, you had found out where he had been all this time, what exactly he had been up to.

As you sip your tea, he follows his own curiosity, doing what he hadn’t been able to do the last time; carefully cataloging your apartment, the changes, the new additions. One of them being a plush armchair, the blue hues of its padding close enough to his eyes to have reminded you of him, just like the dark wood had reminded you of his attire and hair.

The dull ache in your head goes on and you hardly listen to the sounds surrounding you, trying to focus on your heartbeat.

That is, until you hear the dull sounds of boots falling, one by one, harshly interrupting your meditation.

“What are you doing over there?”

You turn to find him carefully draping his coat over said armchair as a wave of drowsiness overcomes you, his boots already neatly stacked underneath.

His pants follow, leaving him in underwear and a shirt, just like you.

You look him up and down before meeting his eyes and your breath hitches, the urge to get up and join him increasing with every second of eye contact shared between the two of you. But then there’s another wave of drowsiness and the pounding pain in your skull dulls to a gentle knock.

“You put something in my tea-?”, you murmur, your tongue feeling sticky and heavy in your mouth.

You put the tea down and your head lolls to the side before a gentle hand caresses your cheek and your temple rests against the soft fabric of his shirt. The smell of moss and old books from your dream fills your nose, a clear testament to his visit in it just mere moments ago.

“I do have access to more elusive ingredients for potion mixing, aiodos.”

The endearment runs down your spine soothingly as you frown, even though the energy to do so is leaving you steadily.

“Though I admit your mix of opium and valerian root to be quite potent.”

You blink again and feel your old heart slow as if you were a bear about to enter hibernation, your lips tingling pleasantly as if you had sipped some spiced wine instead of tea.

You want to say what you think of his little betrayal, want to curse and spite him-

“Come now, let’s get you to bed.”

You find yourself in his arms, despite your pitiful whine, despite trying to push him away. Your head falls against his chest and suddenly you feel frail like glass.

He carries you through the short hallway with care, his lips at your temple as the fight in you returns for a second, the need to prove you can damn well take care of yourself but a shush and his lips pressed to your forehead makes the seed die before it can sprout.

You sigh and go limp in his arms, then, the numbness traveling from the toes of your feet and your fingertips, up your body with every breath you take.

“Rest now. There’s nothing you need to fear. I am watching over you.”

When you next wake, the moon is barely peeking through the curtains, bathing everything in a cool, glittering light.

The heaviness you feel in your bones makes you feel like you have slept for eons.

It takes you a moment to remember, to become aware of the warm nook of a shoulder you are pressed into, the arm wound around you, the soft breaths fanning over your head.

You glance up at him and find him resting. A rare sight, even in your living spaces, thoroughly secured by runes and protection circles.

You can’t help but smile as you turn and let the flat of your hand carefully roam over his chest. There is no shame in staving off the inevitable a little longer, not after all this time.

So you watch the moon slowly illuminate the altar off to the side of the room and wait, relishing in the calm. It is then that you notice the absence of your pain and exhaustion.

“I trust you are feeling better?” The low grumble underneath your ear almost makes you jump had there not been the steady climb of a second hand towards your thigh.

You sigh in response and rub your leg against his underneath the plush blankets. A low hum sounds in return and you know there’s a pleased smile on his face without turning. The hand on your thigh moves in calming back and forth motions like a pendulum.

You lose yourself in the gentle touch before your hand travels higher, up to his collarbones and you feel him tense for a moment as you trace the lines up to his neck, the links of his necklace. As your touch travels to his jaw, he relaxes again.

It’s quite telling, really, that he is still laying here, instead of leaving you, knocked out cold.

“I feel... exhausted. Thoroughly rested.” You take another deep breath and prop your head up as your fingertips dance over his chin and back down to his throat. There’s the slightest hint of stubble there, underneath your touch and you wonder if it’s to feed into your own desires or if it’s an unwanted symptom of him not resting before taking care of his kingdom.

“You worried me.”

You hum and keep appreciating his form, wetting your lips as your fingers trace the lines of his chest. Inside, the admission had made you freeze and almost catch your breath.

Your eyes flick to his but you find him looking anywhere else, your sleep mussed hair, your shoulder peeking out from underneath the blankets - anywhere so as to not meet your eyes. It is more telling than him looking back but you simply take it in stride.

“I do apologize if I distracted you from your duties, milord”, you murmur, a teasing smile on your face as he finally returns your gaze. He tugs you over himself by your thigh, fully covering himself in you. His fingertips tickle the back of your thigh and you bite your lip.

However, before either of you can start to banter, a distant flutter, followed by a quiet squawk distracts you.

You turn your head and catch a shadow moving outside, then another flutter and the distant sound of bird’s claws on the balcony just outside your living room and kitchen.

You level a glare at Dream from the corner of your eye before you shuffle out of his grip and out of bed.

A call of your name and another sigh follow your footsteps through to the other room. Still barefoot and only in a shirt and underwear. You fumble with your fingertips at the seam of it, only then realizing the black color, the soft fabric- it lifts your sour mood just slightly. The smell of petrichor and sandalwood envelops you, following you, just like Dream’s eyes do.

There.

You spot just the slightest hint of a beak through one of your windows before the small, black shadow flutters to the next.

You hasten your steps in turn and manage to pull the window open before they can hop any further.

They jump, visibly shocked as you face them with a grim smile.

“Hello there. May I help you with something?”

After a few inquisitive turns of their head, they clear their throat.

“I-I-” You take your time to muster the bird, thinking them to be the familiar of another witch but then there’s that smell, that energy surrounding the little spy.

“You’re quite handsome.” The nervous flutter of feathers makes you perk up and you look him up and down a bit more intently as you lean onto the window sill. “You’re Dream’s new raven, aren’t you?”

“Oh- uhm... yeah, I keep an eye out for him, he... he tends to... get into trouble.”

You smile sweetly at him and nod.

“He does. But he is safe here, you know. And I do appreciate my privacy.”

“I-I understand but he’s been-”

“Matthew.” 

The raven nearly jumps off of the sill at the low growl from behind you. 

Pretty name for a pretty bird.

You welcome the warmth pressing against you from behind as an arm winds around your waist. “I told you not to spy on me.”

“I know, Sir, but after yesterday-”

Out of the corner of your eye you see Morpheus reaching towards the window.

“Give Lucienne my regards, Matthew. And please do visit again, I feel like we have much to talk about”, you quickly manage, sensing the impending end of your conversation, and as soon as your last word leaves your lips, Dream slams the window shut right in front of Matthew’s beak.

“I’m sorry about him.”

You arch an eyebrow at that, the word sorry had seen few uses in Morpheus’ vocabulary over the centuries. His nose presses against your cheek, just shy of a kiss.

“Let’s head back to bed.”

You spot the point of a raven’s beak as you just outside the window as he presses you impossibly closer, his lips trailing over your cheek to your neck.

Another arm wraps around you and you watch his hand trail over your collarbone before a thumb briefly rubs against your nipple: cheeky, and yet not to be unexpected from your lover.

“Morpheus-”, you whisper, rendered breathless at the overflow of tender motions. You give into the distraction and avert your eyes from the window.

“Mhm?”

“I’m barely back on my feet.”

“So let’s return to your bed, lover”, he murmurs, already pulling you back, away from the window and out of your kitchen.

You chuckle and turn in his arms, meeting his eyes before you lean against his forehead with your own.

“You should not be so harsh on him, you know? Jessamy’s footsteps are big ones to fill.”

“He is too curious for his own good. He needs to learn.”

“Is that what this is, then? A lesson for your raven?”

“It does present itself as a welcome side effect. Though my visit was motivated by very selfish cravings.” The low murmur makes heat lick up your spine. A knuckle tilts your chin up to his and your lips are captured in a kiss, his nose nudging against yours as his lips delicately press against your own.

The kiss leaves you in something akin to a trance and you follow him through the apartment to your bed, his hands steadily wandering over your body as do yours.

You are tempted to push him against a wall instead but as if he were able to read your mind, then, he kisses you again and holds you tight against him, his hands sneaking underneath your shirt. It sends a thrill up his spine to hear you moan in response, to feel you fit into his hands once more.

He grunts as he walks backwards into your bed but you just chuckle and redirect him.

He sits back and you crawl into his lap, before pressing another kiss to the frown that had presented itself on his lips.

“You know this would be easier in my realm.”

“Mh- but I dislike the journey there too much and you know full well.”

He sits back against the headboard and you settle there together, your hands trailing over his chest as he grabs you by the nape of your neck to pull you into another kiss.

You hum and grab the hem of his shirt tightly as he opens your mouth with his own, your breaths mingling as you inhale each other’s presence.

His hands fit themselves into your waist, relishing in the bare skin underneath as he seems to swallow you whole. He could, potentially. Kidnap you and keep you, like Hades did with Persephone. But he knows better than to upset your matron goddesses.

“You know I struggle with the waking world just as much.”

“If you insist”, you whisper back, a faint smile on your lips before you peck his lips again. As you lean back to take your shirt off, however, he leans in to press more kisses to your jaw and down to your neck.

You sigh in content, melting in his grasp as you let your head fall back. However, when you shoot a quick glance towards your alarm clock, you find the space empty.

As teeth scrape over the thin skin covering your collarbone, you do another double take. But it’s gone.

“Dream-��, you mutter, still distracted, especially as he gentles the rasp of his teeth with his tongue. “Morpheus, where is my alarm clock?”

“Irrelevant.”

You frown and this time it’s you who grabs him by the chin to make him look at you. You lean back to look at him, even though you miss the proximity immediately.

“How long did you make me sleep for?” He purses his lips, the annoyance clear as day on his features. Oh, you could picture it perfectly well now, that glare towards the alarm while you were sound asleep on his chest. One time must have been more than enough, then, for him to make the poor thing disappear.

He sighs.

“Two days.” He trails off, his eyes caught on your lips for a moment before they flick back upwards. “I think.”

“You think?” You let go of his chin and shake your head at him. “Two days. I have a job, Morpheus.”

“That job is pointless. You’re a witch”, he grumbles, pressing another furious kiss to your neck. “Besides, you had fallen ill. No use in working when you can hardly stand.” He tugs you back to fully sit in his lap again, winding his arms around you as if you were a dream about to catch flight in the world. Your boiling anger simmers at the tender motion, if only for a moment.

“You’re not usually this disagreeable with me.”

The murmur is almost lost on you but the memory it procures definitely isn’t. Images of past meetings make your still weak head spin, make you bite your lip at the memory of hastily rucked up skirts and wanton moans that had left neighbors in many a century both flustered and angry.

You lean in to kiss him again, then, because that is usually all it takes, especially when he frustrates you: The memory of time you had spent together when you could.

“Next time you are in distress, call for me.” Teeth nip at your bottom lip, a silent reprimand and you let your fingertips trail over his neck, towards the nape where you can sneak into his hair.

“I have friends and other, less busy lovers for that, Dream. You don’t need to take care of me”, you mutter, tongue too quick and nudging against ancient disputes between the two of you.

The hands on your hips tighten at the mention of the others. While he tolerated your need for more than his sparse visits, he didn’t necessarily like it.

“I’m sorry, I-”

Instead of a wrathful reply, you receive a fierce kiss, one that makes your teeth click. You can taste a hint of blood from where teeth must have pierced your lip but you can’t find it in yourself to care.

His hands gently cup your face and he grunts as you cant your hips against his. He turns the two of you so you’re flat on your back. Your mouths never part, locked in a hot and messy tangle. A tongue nudges against yours and you lose your train of thought. The soft touches quickly escalate into something more desperate after that.

One of his hands grabs your ass to hold you steady as you squirm underneath him, the soft touches underneath your shirt turning into rough groping, his thumb steadily rubbing against your nipples.

You hold on to his shoulder, losing yourself in the kisses exchanged as you gasp for air. He lets you grind your pussy against his hard length, the damp fabric catching on your clit with every one of your combined movements.

It’s a stubborn game, the silence between the two of you. Every time one of you moves to kiss the other’s neck, their jaw, the other muffles their own sounds. When you bite down on his earlobe, a small gasp escapes him and you grin triumphantly as the thrust of his hips jolts you up the mattress with your own moan.

You let your lips trail over the shell of his ear. As you grind your pussy down against him, you moan into his ear and the groan he responds with makes you shudder. Out of the corner of your eye you see him furrowing his brows and both of his hands tug you down harder, his own hips searching for the friction.

Finally, he rips your underwear off of you - you scramble to get your shirt off but he is faster than you, pinning you down to line himself up with your pussy.

You’re abruptly shoved up the mattress and gasp as he presses into you with a rough shove.

“Morpheus”, you whisper and grab his chin to lead him into another kiss.

“What is it? Tell me.”

Your fingertips dig into the bone of his jaw. You would be drawing blood with any of your human lovers, you know that, but he is leaving imprints of his teeth in your skin and you can’t help yourself. You bare your teeth as he leans down to suck at your pulse.

“What do you want?”, he murmurs over the wet skin and you feel yourself growing wetter as you grind against him.

“You know exactly what I want, you just want me to say it. I shouldn’t give you the satisfaction”, you sigh and roll your hips against his a little harder, finding that perfect spot to rub your clit against, a perfect bit of friction that makes your cheeks heat up. “Undress me, Morpheus. I want to feel you. Please.”

He hums and slides his hands over your back, up, underneath the shirt. He pulls it off very carefully and your hands move on to his shirt before your own is even fully discarded. You’re less careful than he is and he seems to approve, visibly impatient as he shuffles you until your chest presses up against his before his lips find yours again.

He starts moving his hips again and you keen into his mouth at the friction. You pull at his shoulders, wanting more but unable to voice it.

You let your hand trail over his back, down until you can scratch your nails over his thigh. It makes him moan, his hips jutting forward until you can grasp it in one of your hands.

“Cunning”, he murmurs but he doesn’t resist your pull, doesn’t so much as blink an eye. Instead he pushes two of his slender fingers against your clit, the slick sound drowned out by your moan.

"Morpheus, more-"

"Be patient", he murmurs and you want to bite at him, your lips already searching for the skin of his neck.

You faintly hear your phone ring but Morpheus pushes his slick fingers between your lips.

You meet his eyes, fully entranced, your legs haphazardly nudged to the crooks of his elbows as he pushes closer, closer until you can feel him bottoming out.

You bite down on his fingers. It changes his sullen expression, his brows furrowing, his lips twitching as he presses his hard cock deeper until you keen and let go. 

Spit slick fingers trail down over your bottom lip before he leans in to kiss you again. The spit smears against your arm before he intertwines his fingers with yours. Your moans are muffled by the kiss, a harsh and passionate thing, aided by tongue and teeth as he thrusts into you.

The headboard creaks with great offense as you grab a hold of the wood and dig your nails into it.

He drags his palm over your arm before it settles next to yours on the bedframe, his nose dipping down to press against your cheek. His thrusts are almost punishing. Every single one is making the breath in your throat catch.

You lean your cheek against your knee that is pushed up next to your head. He follows the movement, his lips smearing against the tendons in your neck.

“Is this what you wanted?”

“Yes, yes”, you gasp, mindless in the pursuit of your own pleasure.

He doesn’t let up until your orgasm burns through you and he has to muffle your sounds with another kiss before he follows with his own orgasm.

You pant heavily as he lifts his mouth from yours. You detangle carefully, your whole body aching. Meanwhile Morpheus is quick to get dressed again before he is off to your bathroom.

You awake to a warm feeling and crack one eyelid open to watch as Morpheus carefully cleans you with a wet, warm towel.

When he is finally done, he joins you in bed again, his hands dragging over your still naked body, his lips pressing a lingering kiss to your temple.

“How do you feel?”

You snort and scooch closer until you can put a leg over his hip.

“Godlike”, you finally sigh. It earns you an amused chuckle and another murmur that you don’t catch over your increasing drowsiness.

[thevampiremarie]

treehouse, chapter 2 🔞 (also available on ao3)

Dream of the Endless | Lord Morpheus x reader pregnancy fic

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A doctor’s appointment and a dream.

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i decided to prioritize putting this story up on tumblr after ao3 went down for 2 days. so here's the second chapter! i'd hate for this fic to be permanently lost

So Dream didn’t end up leaving his number. Or social media, or really any way to contact him.

You’d checked the notepad by your door, flipped through page after page on the off chance Dream hid something in the very back.

Nothing.

Except for a doodle - a hastily drawn scribble of a raven. You remember the clever little raven outside of the club the night before. Matthew. Cute.

But he was still gone without a word.

So you moped around your apartment for more than a few weeks, only leaving for groceries and whenever your friend prodded at you to leave and accompany them to a bookstore or Shakespeare in the park.

It’s been a very, very, very long time since you’d even interacted with someone with more than friendship in mind, much less gotten dicked down. A year and some months, if your memory is correct. No matter. You pull your mind away from the specifics of that.

Can anyone blame you for being hung up on someone like Dream?

He’s like your teenage Byronic hero dream on steroids. And sometimes, when you close your eyes, you feel like you’re looking in his eyes again, blazing blue fire even in your memories.

If it weren’t for the hickies lining your skin, the ache between your legs, and that little raven sketch, well. You would’ve thought you dreamed him up.

You historically don’t handle abandonment well, even though you know he did nothing wrong, and you hold no resentment. It’s not his fault you have trauma. So you keep to your room, filling the white noise in your brain with television and music and anything at all to keep yourself from thinking of him.

You’re lonely. You hadn’t realized until he’d lit up your life, just for that one night, but you’re lonely. Aimless. For some reason, that encounter with Dream reminded you of all the hopes and longings you shoved to the side in the interest of survival. Which, at the time, entailed whatever work you could get and a roof over your head. A social life was a secondary concern at best.

Well, you’ve achieved those things now.

But you still feel hollow and empty—a shell of the person you wanted to be ten years ago.

You wanted to be happy. You wanted to be surrounded by a family of your own making, one that loved you as much as you loved them.

Your friend Willow is lovely, but they have their own life, their kids. Not much room for you.

For once, you’d tasted feelings far beyond what you’d allowed yourself to feel for so long. And now, you’re not sure you can go back to an empty house and a life tinted in black and white and grey.

You keep up with your therapy appointments, and your therapist recommends you continue putting yourself out there after such an unexpected social success with your one-night stand. Maybe she’s right; perhaps you should actually just get over your issues with being a part of the world and move on with your life properly.

Unfortunately, your plans to do that today (Willow bothered you over text about some local witch faire they wanted to go to and insisted you come with and maybe make some new friends) are stalled by how shitty you feel when you wake up that morning.

Like, ‘someone hit you with a truck’ kind of feeling shitty.

You’re exhausted, which doesn’t make sense because you slept past your alarms, and your whole body aches. A migraine threatens to black out your vision when you sit up. 

You’ve been taking care of yourself on your own for long enough now that typically you can manage all the things you dislike without help; making doctor’s appointments, waiting in line at the pharmacy. Phone calls suck no matter how often you force yourself to make them.

But you can’t seem to drag yourself out of bed this time.

Thankfully, Willow is thrilled to come over and help you. They text you that it’s about time you reached out and didn’t try to take on the world alone.

When they come to pick you up, you’ve successfully showered and thrown on a clean pair of sweatpants and a random t-shirt. That’s the only thing you feel up to wearing at the moment; your stomach is bloated like it does when you PMS, and these clothes feel like wrapping yourself up in a blanket.

PMS. Hm.

Willow fills you in on their kids’ latest shenanigans, then hands you the travel mug of hot tea their wife packed for you after you’ve buckled in next to them.

You’re late. You hadn’t noticed until today - but you’re about two weeks late. You’d taken your placeholder pills on schedule, per your prescription, but the depressive episode had such a grip on you that you’d completely forgotten about your period.

While Willow waits at a stoplight, you interrupt the stream of questions about your well-being. “I’m late.”

The light turns green. You guys are about ten minutes out from the nearest urgent care that takes your (admittedly shitty) health insurance. “How late?” Willow says evenly, their calm demeanor a sharp contrast to the storm raging inside your mind.

It could be nothing—just stress combined with some sort of bug. Birth control pills mess with your cycle, to begin with; that’s why you must take the placebos.

You try not to focus on the other possibility. You don’t even want to name it - irrationally, you fear that naming that outcome will make it true.

The California sun streams through the car windows. The warmth feels nice on your face, comforting and lulling you into a daze. It’s not a super convenient time to drift off, but you’re sapped of all your strength, your fight.

Willow needs to nudge you to pull you out of your car-ride-induced trance. “Um- two weeks. I think,” You reply. Then you need to repeat yourself; an ambulance driving past with its alarms blaring had blocked out what you said.

Your friend nods without taking their eyes from the road, light catching in their dyed purple hair. “I wouldn’t be worried. We’ll see what the doctor says, okay?”

“Okay.”

You can see the parking lot from here, and Willow turns in to look for a spot. “Finish your tea. You won’t feel any better if you’re dehydrated.” Neither of you acknowledges the elephant in the room - that the nurse will almost certainly order a pregnancy test.

You drain the carafe. The peppermint and honey settle your stomach and gives you enough energy to get out of the car and face urgent care. Ugh. You despise going to the doctor.

It’s not the nurse’s fault this sucks. You feel bad that you can’t muster more enthusiasm to answer her fairly-standard questions, but the fluorescent overhead lights kick your migraine into high gear.

“When was the date of your last period?”

You explain the situation; that you’re late, but you’re on the pill, and you’ve been stressed out recently, so sometimes these things just happen.

To her credit, she has a wonderful bedside manner and doesn’t blink twice. “That’s fine. We’ll get you checked out. I’ll have to ask you to provide a urine sample for me after I’m done taking down all your information if that’s alright.”

“Yeah, I can.” You fiddle with the torn edge of the paper they’ve laid out on the exam chair to focus on your breathing. Maybe you should ask for Ibuprofen or something for your headache. But it might fuck up your blood pressure or something, and then you’d have to come back. Nope. Absolutely not.

“And I assume you’ve recently been intimate with at least one male sexual partner? Did you use any other forms of contraception, and would you like us to run a full STD panel?” She’s doing her best not to sound judgmental, and you know she isn’t, but the questions still sound rude. The nurse is doing her job, you tell yourself. She needs to pry.

You sigh. “Just the one, yeah. And we were only… intimate once. Almost four weeks ago. I haven’t done anything like that in over a year, and nothing else since. We kind of, you know, forgot about other forms of contraception? We thought the pill would be enough. And a full panel would be wonderful, thank you.” You’ve learned your lesson about letting your hormones lead you astray; if there’s ever a repeat hookup like this, which you highly doubt, you will most certainly be getting a condom involved—and negotiating the encounter beforehand.

You might have been more cautious with someone else, more level-headed, but Dream had made you wild and carefree. And desired, worthy. Seen.

It was an intoxicating combination. He’s unlike anyone you’ve known, and you’re sure you won’t meet anyone like him again.

“Alright, not a problem. Are you on any medications?”

You clear your throat before continuing. “A few. For my… mental health. Um, Lamictal, Seroquel, Prozac…”

After making her last notes on her iPad, the nurse moves to one of the cupboards to pull out a clear container. “Got it. Alright, I need you to go to the bathroom down the hall…”

And with all of those tasks done, you wait.

You can hear things happening outside the examination room. Beeping, hushed whispers, footsteps on squeaky clean linoleum. Maybe they’ve forgotten about you here. Even when you close your eyes, you can’t block out the white lights reflecting off the equally white walls, blinding you even when you try to imagine that you’re literally anywhere else.

Your stomach roils, nausea knotting up your insides. Even your joints are protesting you being outside of your bed right now. God, you feel like shit.

A tall woman walks in, cloaked in neatly-pressed scrubs. She looks friendly, too, and her demeanor takes the edge off your anxiety. “Hi there, I’m Dr. Chang, the doctor on staff today. I’ll be taking a look at you if that’s alright. I’m sorry to hear that you haven’t been feeling well.”

She checks all the things you expect her to. Her stethoscope is chilly on your skin as she listens to your heart, and it sends a shiver through you. Then she checks your throat and feels your stomach. “I agree; this does appear just to be some bloating. I recommend you try some ginger tea when you get home.”

Before she can continue, the nurse from before knocks and lets herself in, handing over a paper printout with some whispered words.

“So we just received the results of your pregnancy test, and it came back positive. Congratulations. I believe four weeks along, per the date of your last period.”

Your hands press up against your stomach. You’re pregnant. Actually pregnant. There’s nothing you can feel, not yet, but the world seems to have shifted in the blink of an eye. Everything- everything is different. “Oh.”

For a moment, you just sit there in shock, completely silent and trying to wrap your head around the news. There’s a fetus growing inside of you right now, as you think of it. Before you do anything else, you quickly shoot Willow a text and set your phone to silent, knuckles white as you clench it. Almost hard enough to break the case protector, you remind yourself. You have to be careful, especially as you can’t afford to replace it right now. So you slowly relinquish your death grip. With effort.

The doctor pauses, waiting to see if you say anything else. When she realizes you’re still listening, just unable to put together coherent words, she nods and continues. “From what I understand, you aren’t currently in a relationship with the father?”

Dream. If only that asshole had left his number like he said he would.

This is all too much, too soon. Like, fuck, you still can’t believe your suspicions were right. Maybe you manifested this or some shit. Ugh.

But you can’t linger on that any further, not when you have to figure out what to do next.

There’s no sense in raging against the inevitable. You’ll be alone in this, no matter how much you wish you weren’t. So you put him out of your mind. He’s gone. “No, no, I’m not. I have no way of getting in contact with him. So he won’t be a factor in any of this.” Practicality wins your internal struggle between what priorities should be in which order.

Whatever decision you make next will be for no one but yourself. If Dream wanted a say in it, perhaps he should’ve stuck around.

It is what it is. For now, you put him away in your head. You can revisit your spite, bitterness, and panic when you’re not in public.

“Well, alright. If that’s the case, then you have two options. You can continue with the pregnancy, in which case you need to schedule an ultrasound in a month with an obstetrician, we can provide a reference if you need one, or if you’d like, you can terminate the pregnancy.”

“Terminate?”

The doctor nods. “Yes, you are early enough in gestation that we would be able to prescribe a medical abortion if you chose to terminate the pregnancy.” Her tone remains clinical and nonjudgmental. You can tell she’ll back whatever choice you settle on. You appreciate that.

You’d always wanted a family of your own. Babies of your own. This isn’t exactly what you intended when you first made that dream years ago as a small child. You dreamed of pouring all the love you never received into someone else, someone innocent and unmarked by the world. Someone you could protect and cherish.

A little one of your own, to love you and to make you proud.

Being a young single mother is hard. And if you fuck up, you’re not the one who will pay for it. They will—your baby.

You’ve begun already to think of the fetus as your baby. Damn it.

You look up at her for the first time since the doctor told you the test results. “Thank you for giving me that option. And if I decided to go through with the pregnancy? Are the ultrasound and the OBGYN  everything?”

It will be hard. Your job is barely enough to pay rent on your shitty one-room apartment and fill your fridge, much less pay for what looks to be at least another eight months of prenatal care. Baby clothes. Toys, books. College. And you’ll have to take time off to actually have the baby.

It will be so fucking difficult.

But Dream reminded you, though unintentionally on his part, that you never wanted to be stuck like this, alone and numb inside for the rest of your life. You feel a little bit of gratitude welling up between the cracks of your fear. Perhaps you’ve been waiting your whole life for a chance like this. To finally try your hand at being happy.

You hope the baby looks like him, even if the resemblance is slight.

Dream was so beautiful. Almost inhuman. And kind. Kind to you, who needed it desperately. The baby would do a lot better with his genetics instead of yours.

Maybe you’ll try to find him. You’d hire a private investigator if you had the money, which you most certainly do not, but you want to see him again. At least to tell him about the baby. No expectations for him to be involved; you won’t be beholden to any man who doesn’t want you, but at the very least, you want to look in his eyes one more time.

He’s haunting you. It’s more than a little pathetic of you, longing for a pretty stranger. But you miss him.

“Uh, no, unfortunately, there’s a little bit more to it. If you carry the pregnancy to term, you will have to come off all the medications you have listed here. Ideally, as soon as possible - you should make an appointment with your prescriber to begin a taper.”

“All of them?” You ask hesitantly.

“Yes. All of what you have listed below can increase the risk of birth defects and complications, and the Prozac, if continued through your third trimester, can result in your baby being born with neonatal abstinence syndrome, or what is better known as neonatal withdrawal.”

You haven’t been off those medications in a year and a half. They’ve kept you stable and functional. Safe. “I see.” You don’t like the person you remember being before you started taking them. That person was a terror to others and to yourself. It’s a good balance of mood stabilizers, antipsychotics, antidepressants. You need them.

But they could hurt the baby.

Withdrawal sucks, majorly, so you’ve heard. It’s not something you want to undergo for at least another few years; when you have a better job and maybe someone else to see you through it.

But you don’t have another option if you want this child. You’ll have to do it alone, and broke, and vulnerable.

You almost start crying in the examination room, but you wipe away the tears before they fall. Good. It would be so humiliating to break down in front of this stranger.

You can’t go back to the way you were before the medication, the therapy. You wouldn’t survive that. And you have a duty to be a good mother, beyond just the mechanics of having the kid. Good mothers don’t make their children suffer for their issues.

Your mind wanders back to Dream, regardless of your efforts to put him aside. You have to keep telling yourself that you know literally nothing about him. You don’t know his last name or his favorite color. But it sure would be nice if he was here with you now.

No. This is for you.

“You don’t have to make a decision today. I just wanted to provide you with all the information you need to choose. You still have time, so let us know whatever we can do to support you. Do you have any questions?”

Your voice rings out clear and strong when you answer her. “No, no. It’s okay. I’ve made my choice. I’m going to keep the baby.”

You can do it. This is something good and pure and worth fighting for.

You promise yourself that you’ll survive this. And you don’t need him. You’ve survived worse - and while you don’t believe in any gods or spirits, you’d like to see even them try and stop you.

“Alright, if you’re sure.”

“…yes. I am.”

You leave with a referral for an obstetrician appointment in a month and an armful of different leaflets of various things the urgent care wants you to know.

You didn’t tell Willow of your decision, but they take one look at your face as you get in the car, and they know. “You’re keeping the baby.”

You shouldn’t be nervous telling them - this is your best friend, the closest thing you have to family. “Yes.”

They smile, bright and proud. “Well, I always hoped you’d make Diana and I aunties one day.”

Willow promises to be there through your pregnancy and after. But they remind you not to be so proud, to not wait for things to get dire before asking for help. “We’ve always considered you one of us, but we can’t support you if you don’t tell us you need supporting.”

And for the first time, you plan to follow through on your promise to reach out. Things are looking up, and you feel hope unfurling in you, hesitant and paper-thin.

You lock your front door behind you tightly, checking once, then twice to ensure it’s secure. You’re alone, just like before. But not truly alone anymore.

It will be some time before the baby shows up on an ultrasound, and you remember the doctor telling you that the first trimester is particularly vulnerable and miscarriages are frequent. That would ruin you. You close your eyes, and you hope against hope that the little one will make it through.

And now that you’re barefoot on your old living room carpet, all the feelings you’ve been holding down come out. You sob and scream yourself hoarse, hot tears tracking down your cheeks.

You’re not sure who you’re crying for; yourself, or your baby who won’t get to have a father, or for the possibility that even if Dream knew, he would still walk away. Or worse.

You want more than anything to tell him.

Weeping is more exhausting than it seems. After you stop sniffling so loudly, you stumble into your room and quickly peel off your clothes. The nest of blankets on your mattress seems to be the optimal place to tuck yourself into, dark and soft and warm.

Sleep drags you under fast.

Full-on dreams, like this one, are rare for you. Especially ones where you find any consciousness at all. Some people are just like that; dreamless. If you’ve ever been plagued with nightmares, you never remember them.

The world around you is grey and misty. You can feel fog dampening your skin and clinging to your hair as you turn in search of a horizon. Nothing. Just an expanse of clouded sky with no end or beginning.

For the first time since you tumbled into this vision, you notice the ground beneath you. Or maybe the ground didn’t truly exist until you realized it was there. It’s solid, bits of fresh grass and stubborn weed growing together out of dark, rich soil, their brilliant green leaves bursting with dew.

It’s been a while since you’ve seen that shade of green, so full of life that you wish you could carry it with you wherever you go. Since you moved to the city, all you see now are brown, sun-baked palm trees and dead front lawns.

You feel the urge to open your hands, and when you do, sprigs of young dandelion blossoms lie in the center of your palms. Their bright, cheery yellow blooms are surreal, stolen from an Impressionist painting and plopped right in the middle of a Realist landscape.

This is a good dream. You’d happily spend the rest of the night here curled up on the earth, cushioned by young clovers as the sweet smell of wild violets washes you clean.

Admittedly, it could be better.

“You called out for me.” You turn at the sound of his voice. Dream, in the distance. Of course.

He looks more real than anything else in this place, including you, and simultaneously out of focus. Try as you might, you can’t concentrate on him enough to see him as you would in real life. He belongs here, and you don’t.

You blink, and suddenly he stands before you in the same outfit, of course; tall and proud in the dream your mind built out of memories.

You know he’s a person just like you, but Dream barely looks human here. That’s the way dreams are about other people, you think. Always a reflection of your perception and never objective.

Here his skin is pale as bone, with what looks like the North Star itself split into two and set in the hollows of his eye sockets. Dream’s mouth remains stained red, and this isn’t the time to think about him like that, to picture biting down on his flushed mouth until you draw real blood.

But this is your dream, so if you think about it, you should be able to do as you please.

His hair remains messy. Even your sleepy mind gets that correct, and you admit he looks perfect this way. Terrifying. And perfect.

It takes you a second to decide that he most closely resembles what you think a god should look like - powerful and commanding in every facet of his being. Even the way his brow furrows when you fail to answer his question is intimidating.

You have a healthy sense of self-preservation, though you ignore it most of the time. And that instinct kicks in suddenly; people on the Internet call it ‘uncanny valley.’ Dream is strange, unknown, and those qualities make you want to turn and run. But you don’t - this is your dream painted by your mind. “Hello.”

His face is more expressive in the real world. Hell, one of those statues you compared him to would emote more than he does in your dream. “You called for me.” You can hear an odd, alien tone in his voice, an out-of-place harmony.

“You didn’t leave a number behind.”

“What is it that you want?” Dream’s mouth is a furious line that grows more menacing the longer you go without saying anything. He seems about ready to unhinge his jaw or something. It shouldn’t be hot. It shouldn’t.

It is.

Of course, the version of him that lives in your imagination jumps straight to the point.

You laugh, the sound bubbling up inside of you. It spills out, loud against the silence enveloping the two of you. With it spills all your anxiety and that animal hindbrain caution. Fuck it. “Well, since I probably won’t ever find you in the real world and I’m just talking to a figment of my subconscious, it doesn’t matter. Maybe it will feel good to tell you here, though it won’t do much. I’m fucking talking to myself.” He watches you closely like you’re a threat. “I’m pregnant.”

Shock looks so out of place on his regal countenance, usually as implacable as the deep ocean. It’s comical. “You’re…”

Now, you know he heard you the first time, but you’re in the mood to be annoying. It’s not like he can do anything about it. “Pregnant. Yeah. With a fetus. A baby. Your baby. There hasn’t been anyone else, and no one since. I know it’s yours. And you’re part of my dream, so you should know that too.” The ground below your feet rumbles, and you almost lose your footing. Thankfully, you avoid faceplanting in the grass without too much flailing. Weird. When you look around, the fog seems alive, pulsing and swirling through the air in a fury. Almost like sand.

Then everything settles as if nothing happened. “I see,” He says. And the starlight in Dream’s eyes dims until he looks precisely like he did when you first met. A human, just like you. You hold back the urge to step closer and run your fingers along the arch of his cheekbone, to inhale and fill your lungs with the salt and smoke and warmth of his scent. He’s so pretty that it seems unfair. You still want him. Maybe it was a good thing he left without a word - it would be so easy to wrap your mind, life, and heart around a man like Dream.

You don’t move closer.

All it takes is a split second for your fears to roar back to life. Your dream responds in kind, conjuring up menacing, shapeless forms. Nightmares. “I’m going to keep the baby. If I see you again, you don’t need to be involved, if you don’t want. I won’t ask for child support or anything; you could be part of our child’s life. But I’m going to keep them. I’m just afraid you’d take it badly or that you’d try to take them from me. I don’t want to fight you, but I will if I must.”

You can be realistic; you likely would lose a custody battle if he decided to fuck with you. Dream’s clothes seemed ridiculously high quality and expensive, and you remember how power trailed in his shadow where he walked. You have none of that.

But you’d give the fight your all.

Your mind gives you a break and doesn’t make you get into it with him in your sleep. Your dream stays sweet and easy as one of his hands gestures towards the shadows. The nightmares flee before you realize they’re gone. “Do you wish for me to be involved?”

You still don’t fully know your answer to that.

You want what’s best for the baby. That became your priority the moment you decided to go through with the pregnancy.

“I mean. Yeah. Probably. Again, only if you want, in whatever capacity you want. I’m not exactly set up to be a single parent. But you’re me, so you should already know that. I don’t need to explain further. I won’t force you to do anything, though. This is my choice. You can’t make me change my mind.”

In your dream, he hesitates, then looks you over. “And that is all you wish? Truly?” He asks, his resonant voice echoing in your ears, overlapped with the sound of wings fluttering and the hiss of sand in the wind.

“Uh- yeah. Yeah.”

“This dream is over.”

You wake up alone. It’s tomorrow; you must’ve slept straight through yesterday after getting back from urgent care. You can’t remember what you dreamed about. Hopefully, it was something good.

-

friendly reminder that this does also exist on ao3 if you'd like to read ahead! you can find it here.

thanks for reading and I hope you enjoy!

[melancholypancakes]

This is inspired by Scott Pilgrim vs the World movie when Scott sees Ramona.

*In the waking world*

*Dream walking with Death on the street and an unknown mortal walks past them*

*Dream makes eye contact in slow motion with y/n*

*y/n stares back at Dream as they walk past each other in slow motion*

*y/n walks away as Dream stares at them walking away further*

*Death chuckles*

Death: Do you know that girl?

Dream: No…*feels a strange feeling when he made eye contact with the mortal y/n*

[melancholypancakes]

I want a fanfic or the sandman incorrect quotes to be this with Morpheus and Witch! Y/n ( or just Y/n) funny as hell 😂😂

Bonus:

Bonus 2:

Crowley’s favourite song is The Velvet Underground - I’ll Be Your Mirror.

[nikathingz]

Witch’s Dilemma

Morpheus x Immortal!Witch!Reader

This is purely self indulgent bc I love him so much

Part 2 here - Masterlist

Word count: 2657

(Also this gif is so cute but it makes me want to cry knowing the short moments that follow 😭)

*RING* *RING*

You picked the phone up and held it to your ear with your shoulder as you scribbled runes and incantations into your leatherbound journal “Hello? L/n residence” You said absent mindedly and briefly placed your pen down to look over at the texts you were studying. 

“Uhm, I would like to speak with the mage called Y/n please” a weary male voice spoke through the phone, this piqued your interest, prompting you to set your pen down and fully acknowledge the conversation. 

“That would be me, now who is this?” You questioned leaning on your hand, you had not been known as a mage in many decades. 

“T-this is Alex Burgess, you knew my father Rod-” 

“-Erick Burgess, yes I do, he is the man to have captured a demon in his basement,” you said more to yourself than the man on the phone “He has asked many favors of me in the past, what is the meaning of this call?” You inquired Alex about his business with you. 

“If you would miss, I was hoping you would come out to help me with something, a spell, if you will” His voice, was desperate 

Now he truly had you hooked, what would a Megas's son need with a mage? Was he not magically endowed himself? “What sort of spell is it?” you were already running through thousands of possibilities but unfortunately the only answer that Alex gave, brought much disappointment. 

“I'm afraid I can tell you no more until you arrive,” He said hastily, “Does this mean you will come?” His voice had a boyish hopefulness to it that made your lips quirk up in a slight smile. 

“Yes, just tell me where I need to be and I will travel as quick as the crow flies,” you said, your curiosity sending you into a daydream of what the man could want.

You let out a breath of relief as you pulled into the gravel driveway of the Burgess manor it was late in the evening which basked the manor in an eerie light. You stepped out of the taxi and walked up the creaky steps, rapping on the old wooden door. You stood for a moment before a kind eyed old man opened the door “Well hello, please come in! My name is paul, and you must be Y/n yes?” He asked with a sweet smile and you nodded, returning it. 

“Yes, that is me. It's lovely to meet you Paul” You said and he nodded, leading you to a study where an old man sat perched in a wheelchair by a window. “You must be Alex Burgess” Your words startled him as he jumped slightly and looked in your direction. 

“Yes, yes come in, please” You nodded and allowed some of his help to take your bags, sitting in a cushioned chair he kept in his office. He chuckled and examined your youthful form “I'll be honest, I was expecting someone older, my age perhaps,” he joked and you shifted a bit awkwardly. 

“Haha yeah… sooo about this spell, what is it?” You cut right to the point, you couldn't lie, the question had been eating you alive for the entire week it took for you to prepare and travel to the Burgess manor. 

Alex seemed to stiffen at the mention of your coming here, wordlessly Paul walked behind him and started to wheel him out of the room, and you followed blindly, Paul helped Alex down steep concrete steps and into a cold damp basement. 

The breath was stolen from your lungs as you laid eyes upon a glass sphere, and inside was a man, who had raven hair and sickly pale skin. He remained still and silent in his glass prison, his eyes closed in a false peace. Paul and Alex stood back as you approached the wondrous thing before you, while you had worked with Roderick Burgess in the past he had neither confirmed nor denied the rumor of the demon in his basement, not even to you. 

But this man did not look like a demon, in fact, he looked to be the opposite, he seemed to be crafted by the hands of gods themselves, when you came within reach of the orb you placed a curious hand on the glass, causing the being inside to look up at you. In his eyes you swear you could see the whole cosmos, but past that you could see a human like being. “So the rumors are true…” you muttered

Behind the beauty, in his silvery blue eyes, you could see the faintest amount of curiosity as he looked from you to the firmly planted hand on the glass. When you snapped out of the childish trance the man had captured you in you whipped around to face the old men and the guards who were watching your every movement. 

Your face contorted in disgust and disdain “What is the meaning of this, Alex Burgess? Why do you bring me here under false pretenses and show me this man you keep locked in here like some trophy!?” Your disgust was immeasurable as you turned fully to the men. 

“Your mistaken mage, I did not bring you here under false pretenses, I brought you here to cast a spell that would bind this basement shut, and I do not keep him like a trophy! He has refused to speak for over a century! All he had to do was promise not to hurt us and he could be free!” Alex tried to argue his case but you already had all the information you needed.

Your lip curled in disgust “And how do you expect me to bar this being in your basement when I don't even know what he is?” You questioned and he faltered.

“It's a being more powerful than gods, my father called it ‘Dream of the endless’ it wasn't even the one my father wanted to capture in the first place, please we were just scared that it would hurt us, we never wanted to keep it here, we just wanted to be safe” Alex sighed and spoke more calmly. 

Dream of the Endless, a being greater than gods? And yet here he was, trapped for over a century in glass confinement, all because some mortals got greedy and scared? 

Your stomach churned at the thought of keeping him locked in here for as long as the foundation of this house stood. You gnawed on the inside of your cheek in thought, briefly glancing over your shoulder to look at the Endless, his eyes were still trained on your figure, but his brow was slightly furrowed as if deep in thought himself. 

“Please, this is our last result. We just want to be happy,” Paul pleaded and he clutched his lover's hand. 

You inhaled a deep breath and stepped away from the glass sphere, feeling overwhelmed at the moral dilemma. “I need to think…” you muttered and crossed the room to stand in front of Alex and Paul “If you would be so kind as to show me my room, I'm exhausted from travel. I certainly could not perform such magic in my current state,” you stated and they both nodded, understanding. You followed as Paul helped Alex up the steps. 

As you walked through the iron gate you looked back at Dream, whose demeanor had changed from when you had first walked into the basement before it was curiosity, now it was cold. You couldn't get rid of this looming feeling of despair. 

Your sleep was restless that night, tossing and turning and unable to get rid of the image of him sitting in there for gods know how long, it was early in the morning before you finally rolled out of bed, deciding that a cup of water might help ease your troubled mind. 

The house was quiet as everyone was asleep, you padded downstairs and into the old creaky kitchen, rifling through the cabinets to find a glass to quell your thirst. Your fingers bounced in thought, did you really want to do this? If you helped Alex then when the Dream King finally did escape you would be the only one alive for him to seek revenge on, and quite frankly you did not want to piss off one of the Endless. 

You had read about the Endless a few decades ago, they were exactly as they were named, endless beings more powerful than gods, created by Father Time and Mother Night, Destiny, Death, Dream, Destruction, Desire, Despair, and Delerium. 

You had met Death once, it was a long time ago but you remembered her kind smile, she was the reason you were still walking the earth today. You leaned on the counter in thought, remembering the deal you struck with her to gain your immortality. 

Thinking about Death made you wonder why Dream’s siblings had not come to help him, the rumors of his predicament surely had to have reached the other Endless- of course, they had. You wanted to slap yourself, they knew what happened to him, and they were afraid that if they tried to come to his aid they would end up just like him. Your gut twisted in sorrow for him, abandoned by his siblings and made prisoner by the humans he was supposed to bring extravagant dreams to. 

You finished off the glass and placed it delicately in the sink, padding back into the hall and stopping at the bottom step. You looked down the wall to the door that lead into the basement and heard a small voice in your head telling you to descend the stairs and gaze upon the ethereal being trapped like an animal. 

Ignoring the pounding in your chest, you approached the basement door, there was a brief moment after you wrapped your hand around the brass knob where you considered turning and returning to your room, waking tomorrow, and just doing the damned spell. But instead, you pushed the door open and carried on down into the damp room, The Endless sat just as he did when you had last seen him earlier, elbows resting on his knees and arms crossed over his lap, in an effort to preserve his dignity. 

One of the guards had gotten up to meet you at the gate, and you watched as his face was overtaken with confusion. “I apologize but I can't allow you to enter, Mr. Burgess doesn't allow any house guests down here alone, you’ll have to come back in the morning-” He tried to deter you but you stayed firm, giving him a hard glare. 

“Mr. Burgess knows I’m down here, in fact, you both can go home, I've come to prepare my spell and it would be in your best interest to not be present unless you wanna be stuck in here with him for eternity,” you nodded past him to the Endless, who stared at you with a fierce glare. The man opened the gate and allowed you to step inside while he and his partner scurried to gather their things and leave the basement. You were honestly surprised he believed you, you were still in your pajamas and had none of your arcana with you.

Once left alone you shifted awkwardly on your feet, the cold concrete uncomfortable against your bare feet. His head cocked to the side as he watched you wearily approach, your eyes trained on the gold binding circle as you walked across the room to stand on the small water surrounded square of concrete where the circle was laid. His glare was unnerving as you crouched and ran a finger lightly over the binding circle and lifted it to see a slight residue on your fingertips. 

She looked up at him and was almost taken aback by the mix of curiosity and pure displeasure, “Don't look at me like that, I don't actually plan on locking you down here, I'm just trying to actually get a plan together before someone realizes what I'm actually doing down here” You said and stood up with a sigh, knocking on the glaze to try and gauge just how much force would be needed to break it. 

Dream’s jaw clenched and unclenched as you stared at him with a sour look on your face, you looked over your shoulder to the desk that the night guards had hastily abandoned, you looked at your hand and determined you definitely couldn't even crack the glass if you simply punched it. So you crossed the room to the desk and pulled the small lamp off of it, yanking the cord out of the wall, you turned on your heel and raised your arm over your head, and flung the lap right at the orb of glass. 

Dream lurched back in surprise as the lamp collided with the glass, causing cracks to spiderweb outwards from the point of impact, but not enough to fully breakthrough through. His eyes were wide in disbelief as he stared at the damaged glass. You hurriedly walked back over and started to rub the gold runes etched on the floor with your foot while pressing a hand on the glass and giving the distraught Endless a slight smile “I'm sure you can take it from here yeah? Just one thing before I get the hell out of here though” you glanced down to see that you had rubbed a good chunk of the golden binding away.

 “Just give me a few minutes to get properly out of here before you bust out of this joint, I’d rather not be around for what happens when you do break this glass cage,” you said with a light chuckle while walking back across the room watching as he shifted up onto his knees to properly examine the damage you’d done to not only the spell that kept his powers at bay but also the glass that kept him confined here. 

He looked back up at you, his brows pinched together, so curious as to why you were different than all the other humans that visited the basement during the over a hundred years the Burgess’s had kept him bound here. He watched as your form retreated and disappeared from the basement and listened as the floors creaked above him, he didn't understand why but he sat there on his knees for several minutes until the house was encompassed in silence. 

Meaning you were gone, and that he could finally escape this hellish place after over a century. 

And he was correct, after you disappeared from the basement you had rushed as quietly as possible upstairs to gather the little items you had brought with you, then booked it out of the house not wanting to wait around to see how royally pissed the Endless would be when it fully registered to him that he was no longer bound to that glass case. 

You felt light despite the fear that he might also want to knock heads with you, deep in your soul you knew that you had done the right thing by aiding in his escape, and a little voice in the back of your head assured you that he would be more inclined to spare you for not sealing him in the basement. 

You were able to catch a ride back to the city where you could rent a car to get you back home, opting for it better than getting cabs all the way back as you had on the way over, you don't remember when but some days after you had arrived back in the safety of your apartment you had seen that Alex had caught a severe case of the sleepy sickness, and you had nothing but pleasant dreams every time you slept.

You had an inkling that both were work of the sandman.

•••

I love this sm, I had so much fun with it I hope you love it as much as I do

[dyns33]

The Temple

Morpheus x female reader 

Y/N was not immortal. She was not a goddess, or a fairy, or a witch.

Only a human waitress who had gotten a job at the New Inn, and had quickly become friends with the owner, Mr. Gadling.

Hob, as he liked to be called, was a bit of a strange man. Very nice, high school history teacher, who used the rest of his free time to take care of his pub, where he served customers while correcting his students' homework.

When asked how he managed to find the time to do everything, he replied mysteriously that he had plenty of time.

It was during a night that Y/N discovered her boss's secret.

As they were going to close, after cleaning the tables and turning off the lights, a man came in, pointing a gun at them, ordering them to give him the money.

Not wanting trouble, Hob agreed, giving everything they had as quickly as possible. But the man had then looked at Y/N with a funny look.

It wasn't hard to know what he was thinking. But before he could speak, Mr. Gadling had then lunged at him, grabbing his arm so he was no longer pointing his gun at Y/N. The fight was quick, a shot was fired, and both men fell to the ground.

The thief was unconscious, as Hob clutched his chest, watching his blood flow. Y/N let out a scream, grabbing a towel to put pressure on the wound, while picking up her phone to call for help, refusing to think that it was unnecessary, as the bullet was at the location of the heart.

Then a strange thing happened. Mr. Gadling was in pain, it was obvious, but he tried to smile anyway, a twisted grin, looking at her kindly. He took her phone and hung up, before wiping away her tears, no longer worrying about his injury.

    "Don't cry, duck. It's okay."

    "Hob... Hob, I'm sorry."

    "No, don't be. It's not your fault. Why are people so stupid and rude ? He couldn't take the money and leave ? As a gentleman, I couldn't leave him to you. touch. Don't worry, I... I just need some time. Then you can call the police."

    "But... You will die." she sobbed.

     "... Can you keep a little secret for when we have to make our depositions ?"

It turned out that Hob Gadling could not die. Not if he didn't want to at least. 

It wasn't very clear, and he himself didn't seem to really know how things worked, but after an hour his wound was almost healed, they were able to clean up the blood and call the police.

    "Well... It was a pleasure to meet you." he sighed when they were alone. "I'm going to have to grab my things and leave now. If you could be lovely and not tell anyone until I'm gone..."

    "What ? You're leaving ?! Why ?!"

    "As soon as someone finds out my secret or suspects something, I leave. I can't stay in the same place for more than twenty years. It was nice, I'll probably come back later when everyone will have forgotten me. I will say that I am a nephew. Damn, I hoped to be there if my stranger decided to find me."

    "But you don't need to leave ! I won't say anything, I swear !"

Hob gazed at her for a long time, considering the situation, before deciding that he trusted her.

He trusted her so much that he told her his whole story. His adventures. His marriage, wife and children.

His stranger.

Another immortal, or something else, supernatural creature, vampire, demon, god.

The one he considered a friend, whom he met once every hundred years, with whom he had argued, and who hadn't come to their last date.

    "Oh." said Y/N sadly. "Why ?"

    "You should ask him. Although he probably won't answer, he's not very good at communication. Maybe he's still mad at me. Maybe he'll never come again. In addition, the pub where we met has closed. That's why I created this place, so that if one day he comes back, he can find me, like before."

Loneliness was a feeling that Y/N knew quite well. Attachment too, to certain people that we always wanted to have with us and whose mere presence made us happy.

Helping Hob Gadling became her mission. Because he was her boss, her friend, her savior, and she wanted him to be happy. So she would do everything to make sure he stayed as long as possible at the New Inn, until his stranger returned.

She took care of the place with much more ardor and love than before, making it warm, welcoming, alive. People who came to the pub all said that the owner and the waitress brought them a little joy and hope.

Every day, Y/N came to work wondering if the stranger would be here this time. Even without knowing him, he occupied her thoughts and her nights. Her dreams. She would picture a tall, pale man, with raven hair, eyes containing a starry night, and from which there emanated something indescribable. She really wanted to meet him, and for him to come back to see Robert, who had been waiting for him for more than a hundred years.

Since he didn't seem human, she wondered if he would hear her prayers. In any case, she didn't know how she could love someone she had never seen, nor how she could miss him.

And one day, when she went to ask Hob if he wanted another coffee to finish correcting his students' papers, she found him sitting across from a man. Even though her instinct immediately told her that it wasn't a man. He was too expressionless to be a man, and he looked a lot like her dreams.

    "Ah ! Y/N !" Hob said when he saw her, his eyes sparkling and a huge smile on his face. "I must introduce you ! Y/N, this is my stranger. Stranger, this is Y/N, my employee and my friend."

    "I see." said the stranger in a distant voice. "Honored to properly meet you, young priestess."

    "Priestess ?"

    "Of course. This temple was built for me, its essence, its walls, all sing in my name, and while you became my priest, Hob Gadling, you were aided by this priestess."

     "... What ?" Hob and Y/N said at the same time.

     "Didn't you feel it ?"

     "Not really, dove." answered the immortal, a little lost. "Are the other employees also priests ?"

     "No. They do not know the purpose of this place."

Y/N didn't really know how to react. By deciding to work at the pub and help Hob, she hadn't signed up to become the priestess of an unknown, visibly tempestuous god who could harm her if she didn't celebrate him properly.

Frightened, she excused herself to serve other customers, before staying behind the counter, as far as possible from Hob and his stranger, who looked at her for a while, before resuming their conversation.

When the god was gone, her boss tried to reassure her. He had been as surprised as she by the term "priest", but he didn't think it really made sense. It only seemed to please his stranger that someone thought of him when creating a place.

     "I don't think he's going to get you in trouble. He never gave me any. Yeah, it hurt me when he left, but that's it, and he came back, and now he will come back In a hundred years, when you... Anyway, he won't give you trouble, I promise you, and if he does, I'll never talk to him again."

This did not reassure her. Y/N went home wondering if she should quit or if it was too late for that. If she had made a pact with the devil without doing it on purpose, like Hob who had become immortal without knowing why.

She still managed to fall asleep despite her fears, only to find herself in a pub that looked like the New Inn, but older.

     "This is the White Horse. Hob Gadling and I used to meet there a long time ago."

The stranger was there, seated at a table by the fire, slowly waving his hand to invite her to take a seat in the chair opposite him. Imagining that she had no choice, Y/N obeyed.

     "I sensed that you were afraid of me, Y/N Y/L/N. My raven informed me that I needed to talk to you to clarify the situation."

     "Your raven ?"

      “Matthew. He can be impertinent, but he has some good advice, when he wants to. As a priestess of the Dreaming, you have certain responsibilities, but you don't have to worry about them. You already fulfill them remarkably well."

     "I don't understand." Y/N sighed, still scared.

     "Very well. I am Dream of the Endless, Morpheus, Master of dreams and nightmares, prince of stories. As my priestess, it is your duty to welcome the dreamers, to entertain them, to give them hope, to guide them on the right path and to ensure that they leave without injury. You are already doing all this, with Hob Gadling as with all those who enter my temple. So I have nothing more to ask from you."

     "... He's going to be furious."

     "... Who ?" asked the stranger, Morpheus, his brow furrowing, giving expression to his doll's face for the first time.

     "Hob ! You haven't told him your name for ages, when I just met you. We're going to be in trouble."

     "Oh ? Really ? I'll think about telling him next time."

     "A hundred years from now ? When I... When I'm gone ? No offense, but I couldn't keep this secret until I died."

     "I was thinking of returning next week, if my obligations permit it. Fear not, I will speak to Hob Gadling. And to my sister, if you wish so, dear priestess. Your love haunts the walls of my temple, as well of your dreams. I will do what I can to make you happy."

He then stood up, the pub around them growing hazy. As if it was perfectly normal, Morpheus took the time to kiss her hand wishing her a good day, then Y/N woke up.

She hesitated to mention this encounter to Hob. Maybe it was just a dream after all. She decided not to give too many details, indicating only that she had dreamed of the stranger, who had confirmed to her that he expected nothing from her, and that he would return soon.

     "Soon ? Next week ? Really ? That would be wonderful !" Hob marveled, hopping around the tables like a 600-year-old child.

     "Yes, wonderful. He also talked about his sister."

     "His sister ?"

     "He said he would talk to her if that was what I wanted." repeated Y/N, continuing to wash the windows, while observing the raven which was standing on a tree.

     "I didn't know he had a sister, but good for him ! He's coming back !"

Morpheus returned, to give his name to Hob who happily accepted it, and to tell Y/N that his sister had accepted. He didn't immediately explain what that meant. It took several years, a panic attack, and Matthew the talking raven to make it clearer.

Even if he hadn't known his name before, Hob was right, his stranger was not very good at communication, too glad to have two priests, and maybe two friends, now immortal.

[jiliansky-blog]

Witch’s love. Chapter 1. A long time ago

Pairing: Morpheus x Witch FemaleReader

Rating: PG

Words: 2770

Warnings: Can be spoilers for Briefly lifes and Kindly Ones

Summary: When Lyta Hall and Furies are coming for Morpheus, he received unexpected help.

Notes: For everyone who asked why I write Morpheus x OC instead of Morpheus x Reader

“Why do I come here?” you asked yourself. “No one even paid me any attention. It was silly to think that my former fiancée regretted his decision”. He was already too preoccupied with his new victim to pay attention to me. So you want to punish him so much. You wanted to spell love charms on him. For him to love again or to never love anyone. But then I changed my mind. You don’t need artificial love. You can’t cast on him any dangerous charms as well. It was against our rules. So You decided to bring him nightmares. And now you watched him tiredly trying to flirt and court another woman. “Shall we dance?” suddenly a stranger in a black suit, and mask, and with black hair appeared right in front of you. “What?” you asked.

“You did come to dance here, little witch, did you?” he whispered with a deep voice that made you goosebumps on your skin. You froze because this stranger knew that you were a witch. What if he was a witch hunter or a demon and came for me? “I’m neither of them”, he said, as he read my thoughts. “Now let’s dance before you start to get attention from people around you”. And you let him lead you into the dance. His one hand was on your waist and the other held your hand. You dared to look into his eyes. They were blue and the stars were shining in them. “So who are you?” you asked.

“You sent this mortal into my Nightmare realm”, he replied. If you weren’t dancing, you would be frozen again. Oh god, is he an Endless? You are so in trouble. What should you do? “You are an Endless”, you said. “Hush, little witch”, he whispered. “I’m Dream of the Endless. And you need to take away your charms of this mortal”. “I think not”, you said even though you were afraid of him. “This mortal betrayed my trust and abandoned me. Do you know what you know what it feels like?” “I know”, he pouted his red lips. “And still you need to undo your spell”. “Why?” you asked. “I heard you, Endless, cursed people for less”. And then you froze and don’t know what got into you. He for sure can curse you too for your disrespect and disagreement. And you ran away from the dance floor. Of course, he followed you. It was stupid to try to escape from him.

But you understood that you are not afraid of him. He followed you and don’t try to stop you anymore. You looked at him. “It will pass away”. She said. “In time”. “I don’t think it will teach him a lesson”, he said. “Nor it will help you. I know something about it. As you admitted”. “Oh alright”, you sighed. “I will release him of your realm”. “Very well, Y\N”, he said. “It is a wise decision”. And he disappeared. I decided that I didn’t have reasons to stay anymore. I didn’t want to see Nathaniel again, so I told my aunt that I had a headache and returned home, where I broke the spell. I didn’t expect to see Dream of the Endless again.

But you met shortly after the ball. A few days passed when someone came to your aunt and she called you. And you were shocked to see a familiar figure. Now he was without the mask and you could see white skin and a sharp nose. He was quite handsome. He was more handsome than Nath. He smirked when he saw your reaction. “Miss Y\N”, he nodded.

“I did what you asked”, you said, trying to calm down. “Why do you come here?” But deep inside you felt flattered that Dream of the Endless bothered to visit you.

“Do not be worried”, he said. “You are not in trouble. But I may need your help. I need the help of a witch”. “And you decide to come to me?” you asked. “Yes, as for now you are the only witch I know”, he replied. “I doubt it, Dream of the Endless”, you dared to smile. “Morpheus”, he said. “What?” you asked confused. “You can call me Morpheus”, The Endless said. “Morpheus”, you repeated. “As a god of sleep”. “Exactly”, he nodded. “It’s one of my names”. “So, what help do you need, Morpheus of the Endless?” you asked. You understood if he doesn’t threaten you anymore, then you are not on his bad list. But you still need to be careful.

Turned out that he needs some potion or spell. Someone needs to wake up. And then he appeared in your life more often. He needs some witchy stuff and then you understand that he makes up the reason to come. Even though you caught yourself liking him eventually. He was silent and serious most of the time. But when he smiled, it was like the sun came out of clouds. And it made your heart beat a little faster. “Wait a minute”, you say after another visit. “You are the Endless. You don’t need the help of a witch to wake people up or to put them to sleep”.

“Do you want me to leave you for good?” he asked seriously. Yes, if you are planning to make him confess that was the wrong move. He is definitely not used to confessing feelings easily. “No, I don’t want you to leave”, you replied. “I just really am interested in why you came. I didn’t think you liked me after the ball”. “I am interested in you”, he came closer to you and your heart started to beat faster again. “Actually I want to court you”. “What?” it was a surprise. “I want to court you”, he repeated seriously and then suddenly he took a bouquet of flowers from somewhere. It was beautiful red roses.

“Is it for me?” you asked confused and delighted at the same time. “Of course”, Morpheus gave me flowers. “Do you like them?” “Of course”, you smiled. “It’s unexpected, but it is a pleasant surprise. And I…you can court me I think…” He was too close to you now. You can sense that he smells like rain and coffee and something else. Something mysterious.

He returns in a few days. He brought another bouquet of flowers and jewelry made of rubies. “You will spoil me”, you smiled. “I haven’t even started yet”, he smiled. “I want to invite you to the lake”. “To the lake?” you asked surprised. “Yes, if it’s alright with you”, Morpheus replied. “And also, this necklace is not just jewelry. It can help you to come to my kingdom anytime”.

“Oh”, you said. “I’m flattered. And the lake is totally alright with me”. It was a surprise for you. But you keep falling for him, even though you feel shy around him. You didn’t expect the Endless to fall in love with you. And you still wait for it to become a dream or some cruel joke. Yet, you feel thrilled and anticipated. And you dream about him before sleep. You dream of his touch and kisses. All other men are nothing when he is around. And you almost forget about Nath. “I will look forward”, you smiled.

He smiled and disappeared. You were very busy before your meeting. “I hope, you will take me with you”, said your aunt, while you were looking for a suitable dress. “Everyone already is talking about you and his man. I trust you because you know what beast for you. But witchcraft won’t save you from gossip and the aftermath of it”. “I don’t think he will marry me”, you said and sighed. “If that’s what you mean. And I won’t stay here forever. I will leave eventually”. “Why then are you courting you, if he doesn’t want to marry you?” she asked.

“I don’t know”, you shrugged. “Perhaps, he was just intrigued by fancying the witch. Who knows what men like him think?” “I think he likes you”, she said. You hope that he likes you too. Because you start falling for him. It’s hard not to fall for this mysterious and handsome man. “I hope you forgive me”, you said when he came for you. “My aunt insisted on going with us, because of my reputation”. “There is no need for that”, he turned to your aunt. “I will take care of it. And nothing will happen to Y\N reputation”. “How?” you asked.

“No one will see the two of us”, he said. “There are two options. First, I will make an illusion. The second we will make it, but in the Dreaming”. “You want to court me in my dreams”, you said. “If I must”, Morpheus nodded. “No”, said your aunt before you could answer. “You need to court her in reality too because people know, that you came here”. “Aunt!” you sighed. “At least a few dates”, she added. “Very well”, Morpheus was too serious. “First, we come with your aunt. And then we decided. Are you ready to go?” “Yes”, now you have the chance to answer first. “Are you ready, aunt?”

“Yes, let’s me take my book”, she smiled. “Do you want to visit the Dreaming?” he asked when your aunt left the room. “I do”, you replied. “But she makes sense”. “You want everything to be appropriate”, he admitted. “I do”, you smiled. “Fine”, he smiled again. At that moment my aunt returned to the room and you can go to the lake. You need to admit, that he knows how to court. He was very gentle and attentive. When he touched your skin, it was covered with goosebumps. His fingers were cold, but his touch was like silk. Even with your aunt nearby, you were trembling with emotions.

“Are you still scared of me?” he asked. “No”, you replied. “It just…like a dream”. “It’s never just a dream”, he smiled. “So what do I need to do to appear in the Dreaming?” you asked. “You just want it”, he replied. “I can show you everything. To make the date beyond yours or other’s people imagination”. “Sounds tempting”, you smiled. “You just need to wish”, he whispered.

You wished it to happen. To meet in a place where you won’t be bound by people’s expectations. To have him without even other people looking. You can even kiss him here. So you waited for this more even than your date in the real world. “You are going to take his invitation”, admitted Aunt when you returned home, “Yes”, you smiled. It will be the place where you don’t need to think about propriety.

“You need to be careful”, she said. “He is a powerful creature. Now he is fond of you. But that may not last forever”. “I’m aware of it”, you reassured your aunt. And in the night you appeared near the castle. Morpheus came to meet you. He was even more stunning than ever. He wore a long black robe and his hair was unruly. “So, that’s the Dreaming”, you said. You tried very hard not to look at him all the time. Even though he was so beautiful. He just smirked at your casual voice. “Only the small part of it”, he replied. “I can show you everything. Actually, I prepared something”. “The lake?” you smiled. “No, something else”, he smiled. “Wait and see”. He brought you to the beautiful meadow with butterflies and the lake and many wonderful trees. Such a marvelous place to visit in the dream.

“Wow, that’s really marvelous”, you smiled, amazed. “Thank you”, Morpheus smiled. “It’s Fiddle’s green. The heart of the Dreaming. And now we are going to have a picnic”. “A picnic?” you smiled wider. “Really?” “Yes”, he looked satisfied with himself. “I know that you wanted one, but you were afraid of other’s people opinions”. “You are so attentive”, you smiled. “Everything for you, my little witch”, the basket with different food and wine appeared on the grass. You blushed at his words. “Why you were so surprised when I started courting you?” he asked and poured wine for you.

“I didn’t expect the Endless to be the fancy ordinary witch”, you said. “I’m nothing special really. Even my magic is not very powerful”. “You are charming”, he said. “And you dared to argue with me, even when you knew that I could put you in nightmares”. “Who would think that you like when someone doesn’t obey you”, you smiled and took the glass of ruby wine. “I glad, you took my invitation”, Morpheus smiled. “You look more…free”. “No other people's expectations”, you smiled. After you tasted wine and some other delicious food, you found yourself closer to him. He was too close, but you didn’t mind. And at the next moment, he kissed you. That felt like really the beginning of something even more beautiful.

Nowadays You remember about it even now. You were sure that when Sleepy sickness began something happened to Morpheus. You tried to find him but failed. Now the Sickness is gone and you stop trying to contact Morpheus. Until the bird knocked into your window. “Hello, birdie”, you said, opening the window. “My name is Matthew actually”, said the raven. “But hello to you too”. “Oh no”, you sighed. “You are his raven, aren’t you?” “Yes, and you are Y\N?” he asked. “Yes, I'm surprised he remembered about me after all this time”, you admitted. “Did you fly here on his behalf?” “He had never forgotten actually”. The bird replied. “And no, Lucienne sent me”.

“Lucienne sent you?” You were surprised. “Yes, because you know boss…He would never ask for help, even when he was…” he said. “Captive, I assume”, you said. “Yes”, he almost sighed. “But now he is in danger again. It’s a long story. And Lucienne said that you may not agree to help him after your history, but I decided to give it a try”.

“What happened?” you asked, feeling anxious and scared. Yes, you were still mad at him, but you didn’t want him to be hurt. Or worse. You couldn’t help him when he was captive, but you can help now. “Someone haunts him”, he said. “Furies. The woman who lost her child wants to avenge him and now they are coming because he did something”.

“Wait, what?” you asked. As far as you know, Furies punish someone who spills the blood of his relatives. But they wouldn’t come just because someone asked them. Especially, for vengeance. Morpheus didn’t tell you much about his family, but you doubt he would kill his own blood. “Boss killed his son”, the raven said and it terrifies you. But also make everything so much clearer. That’s why the Furies are coming for him.

“He didn’t want to kill him”, Matthew continued. “It was his son’s last wish. And now the boss should pay”. “But why do you come to me?” You asked. “I couldn’t stop Furies”. “You can stop the witch who protects the woman that woke Furies”, he said. “Perhaps, that can help him”. “Another witch?” you asked. You didn’t meet any witch for a very long time. “Who is she? And why she is doing it?” “Well”, here comes awkward silence. “He called her Thessaly. And they also have a history”. “Well, that’s explains a lot”, you said. “If he breaks her heart…” “Actually, it was the other way around”, he said.

“Oh”, you said. It was an unexpected plot twist. This witch broke his heart; he should kill his son, now this. It was difficult for him. “I will help you, but I need to meet him. And…I need to prepare everything. I should know what spell the other witch did”. “I don’t know if the boss will meet you”, the raven said. “But just know that we don’t have much time. Something else?” “I should know, where she is”, you said. “And it would be easier to do from the Dreaming. Perhaps, I can enter her dream”. “Not the best idea”, he said. “Boss won’t be happy. And I hope that you don’t tell him”.

“Do you want to save him or not?” you asked angrily. ���I can’t help if I don’t know all the details. She can block me as well”. “Alright, that makes sense”, he sighed. “I will tell Lucienne and the boss”. “Good”, you nodded. “So tonight I will visit you in my sleep. I still have a necklace Morpheus gifted me”. The raven flew away and you sighed. Time to meet ghosts from the past and to be a real witch.

@shadowqueen1318 @mypsychoticlove @justathirstyhoe​ @ladymoztaza

[roguelov]

Entangled

Summary: A recently turned immortal, and a witch, your life becomes entangled and thrusted into the life of an immortal, Hob Gadling. However, Hob soon introduces you to his oldest friend, Dream of the Endless. And over the coming centuries you find yourself falling in love with each of them, but how will it end?

Word Count: ~8k

Reader: Afab/fem

Warning: Mostly fluff, mutual pining, mentions of drowning and death, angst(ish) cliffhanger

Part 2 - (smut included)

Strangely, this story began with a drowning.

The ravenous crowd cheered. A man tied to a sturdy, recently chopped, tree thrashed in the chilling river water. Bubbles escaped from his mouth letting the freshwater in.

Blood. They wanted blood. They beckoned out to Death, hoping for her to grace their presence.

The crowd brought the man up to the surface ignoring his gasps and pleas to spout insults and allude to his devil worship; then instantly forced him back under.

Hob Gadling had one thought in his mind: how much water can fill my lungs? When one cannot die, then what do you do when someone is actively trying to kill you?

His lungs were on fire as precious air was forced out. He would clamp his mouth shut, yet his body and survival instincts rejected it. His need for air opened his mouth allowing more water to rush in. It burned as it poured down his throat. It pained him in every way.

He was choking.

But, he was not dying.

And it was odd.

The thought of dying - actually dying - ran through his mind, yet he knew it would never come. Hob loved life, he loved it all dearly, but for a single moment - in complete weakness - he wished for death. A fleeting thought which was drowned out by the intense ringing in his ears.

Soon darkness overtook him.

Commotion erupted on land.

The murderous crowd scattered, like dogs with thier tails tucked between their legs.

A figure darted out of the surrounding woods and plunged into the river.

You.

You dove in.

With a knife in your mouth, you swam to the man and started sawing away at the rope. He was slack, unmoving and at the mercy of the current. Dead or unconscious. You couldn't tell, but you hoped for the latter.

After a few more slashes, he was free from his restraints. You tucked the knife into your boot and grabbed onto the man’s slippery, wet clothes. You pushed off the bottom of the river and dragged his sopping body to the surface. You broke gasping for air, then swam with all your might to the creek bed.

Huffing and puffing, you hoisted him up and out of the water. You touched his neck, feeling for a pulse. However, miraculously, the man started coughing up water.

You breathed a sigh of relief. He was alive.

He cracked open his eyes. Water dripped off his eyelashes, following the curves of his face. Looking up, the sun - still high in the sky despite believing hours had passed - glared viciously, blinding him. He hissed. But, he enjoyed it, enjoyed the pain and heat. It was far better than the cool unforgiving darkness of the river.

You smiled sadly down at him. “I’m sorry,” you brushed his wet locks out of his face, “they were after me.”

He coughed up more water. “You? They were after me.”

You blinked. Him? I thought …

Each of you assessed each other in utter confusion. Slowly, the man pushed himself up, swaying side to side to properly look at you. “Why … why would they be after you?” He asked.

“Same as you, I suppose.” Standing up, you stretched a helping hand towards him. “For being a witch.”

He graciously accepted your offer. Clasping your hand, a pleasant chill ran down his spine. Your skin, although damp, was far warmer and welcoming than his own. Standing on his feet, he stumbled back and eyed you up and down. You raised your head, and did the same.

“A witch? A genuine witch?” He asked, almost in disbelief.

“And are you not a witch?”

You assumed given your recent activities - healing the sick, collecting plants, muttering to yourself what people thought to be gibberish, walking around at night, and more - stirred the nearby town’s fears. You assumed this poor soul was caught in the middle of your battles. But, maybe not.

“In a way, I guess I am, or at least to those lovely folks.” He huffed, which turned into a cough.

You stepped back, getting a real good look at him. A hum resonated within him - a hum of the supernatural. You met his eyes. “You are immortal, are you not?”

He blinked, eyebrows shot up.

Which all but confirmed your hunch.

You chuckled to yourself. “Please, we can continue this discussion some more, but allow me to care for you first. I have some dry clothes back at my home.”

He didn’t argue.

You guided the drenched man as he leaned heavily on you back to your little shack in the woods. It rose through the parted pine trees, tucked away from the world. It had cracks and holes in the foundation, and the roof barely kept out the rain or nightly chill, but it was enough. You weren’t necessarily planning on staying around in these parts much longer anyway.

Pushing open the rickety door, you hobbled across the room to the creaky bed and carefully sat the man down.

He didn’t fight. He didn’t have it in him.

His clothes stuck to his freezing skin, his hair clung to his forehead, while his eyes stared vacantly ahead. The weight of his situation, what he just experienced, now perfectly clear in his mind.

You frowned. You left him be for a moment and started to make a fire.

Hob’s eyes slowly trailed over you and your home.

Jars filled with dried herbs neatly placed in rows on a thin, poorly made counter. Plants, both herbs and flowers alike, were scattered about in various pots on the floor, on the single round table in the far corner, or either in the windowsill behind him.

You darted around the tight space, collecting herbs and throwing it onto the fire. You constantly mumbled under your breath, like a haunting song. Hob inhaled deeply. The aroma was dizzying. However, it distracted him from the freshwater and algae that threatened to suffocate him. In fact, he started to feel more and more at ease with every passing second. The ring in his ears vanished, replaced with the crackling of fire. His body had stopped shivering minutes ago, and his muscle had finally relaxed. The danger had passed.

Walking over, you bent down at the edge of the bed pulling out a small trunk. You rummaged around before pulling out a bundle of clothes. You eyed him then the clothes and smiled. It would fit.

You set them beside him and stood directly in front of him. He slowly peered up at you. Your kind, gentle eyes soothed every worry he ever felt. He was safe at last.

“I know you may not be capable of catching a cold, but please allow me to look over you,” you asked softly.

Hob nodded.

You smiled, your eyes crinkling. “If I make you uncomfortable, please tell me.” You pressed your hand to his chest. His face scrunched up and glanced down in confusion. “Breathe in and out slowly.”

Hob cocked his eyebrow, but obliged.

You immediately frowned. Water was still trapped in his lungs. You could feel it: the faint swishing and hum of gurgling.

You sighed, stepping back. “You have water in your lungs.”

Hob’s eyes widened.

“But, not to worry, I can get it out. However, you must stay completely relaxed and calm, and listen to everything I say.”

He nodded adamantly.

You smiled again. With the tip of your finger, you gently tipped his head back so he stared directly at the chipped roof. Your thumb carefully pushed on his chin, opening his mouth a bit. You looked through the window. “You are lucky, it is a clear and dry day.”

Hob tried to respond, but you silenced him.

“Inhale deeply. Take in the smell of herbs.”

He did as he was told. It made his mind hazy, his thoughts hard to grasp.

“Good, now don’t resist.”

Fear should have spiked, but he was at ease.

You leaned over him, and began to mumble. Hob couldn't understand a word you were saying. Yet, it was the same as earlier, an eerie haunting lullaby. Your words swirled around his hazy mind, drifting him further and further into a relaxed state.

Something slithered.

He flinched.

Your hands cupped his face, as your thumb calmly stroked his cheek. You never wavered.

The cool, wet sensation slithered out of the pit of his stomach and up his throat.

Again, he should have panicked. His eyes darted around and locked onto your. Your eyes were closed in concentration. The sunlight, the soft yellow, danced over your damp skin. Your hair stuck to your face. Water dripped down off the tip of your nose.

It dawned on him in that moment the lengths you went through to save him, to save a complete stranger.

Something swirled in his mouth. The distinct taste of algae and mud glided over his tongue. It was water. Fear finally reached him. He wanted to choke or throw up, but he instead froze. The water floated out of his mouth and hovered in a suspended bubble inches above his face. His eyes widened.

A dented tin cup appeared over his face, catching the water.

He blinked.

You took the cup and chucked the water outside. You turned around smiling widely at him. “There.”

He dropped his head, staring in awe. “You really are a witch.”

“Did you have doubts?” You teased, setting the cup on the table.

“I - I suppose I did. I … I just haven’t met others similar to me.” He struggled to string his thoughts together.

“You mean ones part of the strange and unspoken parts of this bizarre world?”

“… yes?”

You smiled, shaking your head. “You have lived a closeted life, or you have turned away from it all.”

He threw you a lopsided smile. “Really?”

You smirked, and moved on, refusing to reveal the many secrets of this world. “So, immortal man, how long have you been wandering the earth?”

“Since the late 1300s.”

You blinked, surprised. “That’s nearly 300 years?”

“Yes, but most say I don’t look my age,” he cheekily replied.

You snorted.

“And you? I now know you are a witch, but are you also gifted with immortality too?”

“I am.”

He cocked his head. “Because you are a witch?”

You shook your head. “No, all witches, magic users if you wish, live and die for that is life.”

“Then why you?”

You smirked. “And why would I tell you such secrets?”

“Because you saved my life? I would like to know my savior.”

“Saved an immortal’s life? Irony at its finest.”

He smiled, chuckling to himself. “Cheeky.”

“I will say a deal was struck, however, when my deal was struck? It was not as long as you probably think or hope, it was all fairly recent compared to your lifespan. It was only about half a century ago.”

“Ah,” he hummed.

But, unlike what you suggested, he wasn’t disappointed slightest. How could he? He has met another immortal, one more aligned with humanity compared to his other dear friend.

He smiled, practically beaming. “Where are my manners? My birth name was Robert Gadling, but please call me Hob.”

“Hob Gadling,” you repeated. “(Y/N) (Y/L/N).”

“It’s a pleasure to meet you, (Y/N).”

“And the same to you, although I wish it was under better circumstances.”

“Ah,” he waved you off, “I wouldn’t wish it any other way.”

You blinked, then laughed. “You are a strange one, Hob.”

“Says the witch.”

You smiled, “Cheeky.”

He laughed, shaking his head.

At that moment, an idea popped to mind. “Hold on,” you ran over and opened your trunk again, digging through clothes and other assortments. Hob leaned over peering down at you, but you instantly jumped up with a smile. You held out a plain golden locket. “Here.”

Hob stared down quizzically. “What is it?”

He knew the obvious answer, but given your occult tendencies he wanted to know more.

“A locket.”

Hob glanced up at you unsure.

You huffed. “It was a gift to my sibling.”

“I don’t follow.”

“It’s charmed. It is connected to me. If you hold it and speak my name I will know. It was a way for my sibling to call me when they were sick or in need.” A frown tugged on your lips. “They unfortunately passed away last winter.”

“I’m sorry for your loss,” Hob muttered. Loss was an old friend, one he never wished to see again.

“Thank you, I’m okay, but I wish for you to have it.” You offered it out to him.

“Why me?”

“I found you drowning in a river, I feel as though I should not have to explain any further.”

Hob smiled sheepishly.

“And I wish to stay in contact with you.” You took his hand and placed the locket and the chain in his. “A start of a new friendship.”

His fingers curled over the jewelry. He smiled up at you. “Okay, for a new friendship.”

Yet despite the hopeful promise, he never called.

It was only until decades later that you finally saw him again.

Under the pale grey sky, the air thick with the impending storm to come, you strolled down the busy sidewalks as carriages and horses trotted by. You glanced down at the scrawled list. All of it basic necessities, some of which your garden could not provide hence your trip into town.

“Move it!”

You glanced over to the commotion across the street. A man, in tattered rags and covered in dirt and grime, stumbled through the flow of people. Most covered their noses, as a few gagged. They all glared at the man and some even shouted at him.

You frowned.

The man was pushed and forced up against a building as people bumped his shoulder. He glanced around, trying to look for something. His beady sunken eyes peered through his scraggly hair that fell in front of his face. He slowly sunk down, as people crowded around him. The man threw his hands over head to protect himself.

Your breath caught in your throat.

Without any regard for passers in the street, you darted across. You worked your way through the crowd, shooing them away. They scoffed and gave up. A few eyed you oddly but you paid no attention to them.

Your heart raced as you approached. You dropped to your knees. “Hob?”

The man snapped his head up, looking through his greasy hair. Shock overtook him. He dropped his hands and looked at you properly. “(Y/N)?” He breathed out.

“Oh, Hob.” You reached out and helped him up onto his feet. He graciously accepted. He, however, tumbled into you, but you easily supported. Just like all those years ago. Your hand rested on his stomach while your arm wrapped around his waist. “What happened to you?”

“Life.” He muttered with a crooked smile, trying to hide his pain.

You puckered lips, not believing him.

“Nothing you should worry yourself over.” He quickly added, and laughed once. “Just one thing after another. You shouldn’t be too surprised given how we first met.”

It was meant to be a joke. But, you didn’t laugh. Your eyes softened. “Why didn’t you call?”

Hob hunched over slightly, and glanced away. “I did not think to.”

You frowned. “Hob, we may have only met once, but I do consider you to be a friend.”

Hob straightened up with you to lean upon. His hand touched the front of his ragged shirt, and just below a cool metal pressed into his chest. Your locket, one of his few possessions still on him. “It was not meant to offend you,” he whispered. “I simply have grown to rely on myself. It is odd to think I can call upon someone and they will still be there.”

Your frown shifted into a smile. “I’m not offended, Hob, in fact I understand perfectly well. All I ask is for you to be more mindful in the future.”

He nodded.

“Here, come back to my place. I can cook you a meal and -“

“No,” he quickly shook his head.

You raised your eyebrows. “No?”

He started to walk ahead, stumbling a bit to free himself from your grasp. You chased after him, clinging to him and fearful he may collapse.

“I am to meet someone,” he stated, marching forward.

“Meeting someone?”

“An old friend.”

“Are you -“

“It is a scheduled meeting, I cannot and will not miss it.”

Helping a fumbling Hob, you soon found yourself in front of a tavern. You couldn't hide your confusion and some disdain. A tavern? You looked to Hob in your arms, but his gaze was locked onto the door. Inside, the crowd cheered and bustled about. A faint hum of music filled the air as clacks of cups and tankards echoed.

Hob stepped forth out of your embrace. He opened the door, walking in as if it was his destiny.

The patrons immediately glared at Hob given his unpleasant appearance. But, with you on his trail, you easily reciprocated their hateful glare. Most then turned away. A man - a worker - tried to approach to remove Hob, but you caught his gaze. He flinched, and slowly backed away.

Hob stumbled around tables to the far back of the tavern. You followed like his shadow and protector.

Once in the back, Hob instantly beelined it to a man in all black.

You hovered, unable or unsure if you should leave Hob with this man. A man who exuded such raw power and commanding presence. His posture was perfectly straight with his head held high and leveled with the floor. He did not belong here. His long raven black hair swept back over his shoulders. His clothes were expensive and the height of fashion dipped in a velvet black. He was the night. The only flecks of color on him were a deep blood red from a ruby which sparkled at his neck and his pale blue grey eyes, the color of an early morning sky.

Hob, however, ignored everything peculiar about the man and stuffed his face with the served bread and began to prattle on about his life.

The man’s charcoal rimmed eyes soon slid over to you intrigued. “I see you have brought a friend to our arrangement, Hob Gadling.”

Hob visibly swallowed a chunk of bread and looked over his shoulder back to you. He blushed a little, embarrassed he forgot about you. But, he gestured for you to join them.

Hesitant at first, but you obeyed. You were mystified by his dark stranger. Why did he feel so familiar?

You took the chair next to Hob, and kept your eyes on the stranger. You began to have an inkling as to who he may be. If you were correct, you had met one of his siblings before.

“This is -“

“(Y/N) (Y/L/N),” the stranger cut off Hob. The stranger bowed his head in acknowledgement and offered a small greeting smile.

You returned the smile. Oh, yes, you knew exactly who he was.

Hob, mouth agape with food, looked between the two of you in bewilderment. “Have you met before?” He turned to you and pointed his ripped piece of bread at the man. “You know him?”

You smiled at Hob. “It seems you have a knack for attracting the unusual Hob, which I suppose is not surprising given your own unique circumstances.”

Hob blinked. “I don’t understand, do -“

“Hob Gadling,” the stranger called out. “You were regaling your life story, one I am most excited to hear if you so wish to continue.”

Hob squinted at the pair of you, but delved into his life. A story which spanned over the entirety of the last century, a story in which you also made an appearance in. And, unfortunately, a story which wasn’t very pleasant, one filled with mountainous heartache. But, when the stranger asked if Hob wished to continue living; Hob laughed and answered with a resounding yes.

You smiled, shaking your head. Even with the few interactions you had with Hob, you somehow expected his answer.

Hob twisted in his seat, facing you. “You should join us.”

You blinked. “What?”

“Come here to this tavern in the next hundred years, and we can discuss what we have done.”

You shook your head. “Oh, no, I -“

“You are welcome to join us,” the stranger interjected. “I am interested in your tale if you wish to tell it.”

Your eyes flickered back and forth between them. Should you? There was no disdain in their eyes, only joy and want. You smiled at the pair. “Okay then, I will be here.”

They smiled.

“On one condition,” you added. “That I may see you well before then.”

Hob smirked. “Oh, yes, I assure you will hear from me. You cannot get rid of me so easily now.”

You laughed, throwing your head back.

At the sound of your bubbly laughter, their hearts shared an infectious flutter. They glanced at each other, with questions in their eyes, but they ignored it; ignored the stirring of emotions just as they have done so for centuries.

You tilted your head, beaming at the pair, “Then to the next hundred years may they be filled with excitement and bring you joy.”

“To the next,” they spoke in unison.

After the meeting, you dragged Hob to your home for fresh clothing and a warm place to sleep for the night.

“I promise, I’ll be out of your hair by tomorrow,” he repeated over and over throughout the day and well into the night.

You smiled, leaning on the doorframe to the spare bedroom. You watched as Hob, now squeaky clean, slowly settled into bed. “You can stay forever how long you need Hob.”

“No,” he shook his head, “tomorrow morning I’ll leave.”

“If that is what you want.”

He locked eyes with you. It wasn’t. There was a swell of emotions in his chest. But, he didn’t wish to be a burden, besides a fire was lit under him after today. He knew he could create a new life, and stand proudly on his own two feet. “It is,” he said.

You nodded, “Just remember I’m always here for you.” You pushed off the frame, and began closing the bedroom door. “Goodnight, Hob.”

“Goodnight.”

In your own bed, with the sounds of Hob’s faint snoring, you smiled to yourself and entered the Dreaming.

Just as you always have, and will continue to do so.

Your bare feet buried into the soft, cotton-like, pale sand. Inhaling, the salty air filled your lungs. Seagulls, gliding on the gentle breeze, squawked overhead. Waves crashed in a constant rhythm. Exhaling, you tilted your head up. It was an overcast sky, gloomy and void of most colors. Yet, the air was warm and inviting like a hug from an old friend.

A wave boomed against the shoreline. Louder, more notable.

Eyes now burned into the back of your head.

Lowering your head, you turned around. He was nearly the same image as he was hours ago, however he forged his expensive clothing for a simple black robe. “Dream of the Endless,” you bowed your head slightly.

He greeted you and bowed his head in return. “(Y/N) (Y/L/N).”

You smiled warmly. “I am honored to be in your presence, but I must ask why are you here?”

“I was curious as to how you and Hob Gadling had met.”

“Ah,” you hummed. “Hob had already told of it earlier, not a particularly cheerful story.”

“True.” He stepped forth. His robe fluttered in the wind, skating across the sand. “But, I find it fascinating.”

You cocked your head. “How so?”

“To think the universe in all its cosmic power somehow aligned you to his path. A magic user and an immortal now intertwined.”

You smiled, “And now we are all intertwined.”

The corner of his lips twitched upward. “Yes, I suppose we are.”

“But, we were always connected in a way. Just a small thread.”

Confusion flickered in his stormy pale eyes, then he hummed. “My sister.”

“Yes.”

“And have you spoken with her recently?”

There were far and few immortals. But, Death had a habit of speaking to those blessed with her gift. She had a particular interest in you and your story given your affinity for magic, and a certain arrangement.

“No, I haven’t, but given her duties I do not blame her.” You leaned towards him, a knowing smirk danced across your lips. “And you?”

“Pardon?” He blinked, momentarily confused.

“Have you spoken with your dear sister?”

“I cannot say that I have. We both have very busy lives.” He crossed his arms behind his back, regaining all his regal stature. “And your deal with my sweet sister?”

“Still ongoing.”

He nodded.

“Does he know?” You cocked your head.

“I’m not sure what you mean.”

“Hob. Does he know who and what you are?”

Dream shook his head. “No, not entirely.”

“And why is that?”

Dream opened his mouth, but soon swiftly closed it. Why did he not tell Hob? Did it simply evade him? Was he too enraptured with Hob’s tales that he neglected his own? “I cannot say for I, myself, am unsure as to why.”

You chuckled.

Dream raised an eyebrow. “Does this amuse you?”

“How can it not?” You smiled at him. “And I don’t mean to be rude, but an entity who holds the universe’s collective unconsciousness, and has lived for eons upon eons, has failed at basic manners.”

Dream’s lips twitched upward. He looked out to the choppy sea, hiding his growing amusement.

You stepped in front of his view. “Talk to him. Visit him in dreams if you must. He speaks very highly of you.”

Before going to bed, Hob couldn’t and wouldn’t stop speaking of the Dream Lord. He recalled every encounter he had starting with the first fateful encounter back in the 1300s. You saw clearly how much Hob cared for Dream, and their brief fleeting moments.

“Maybe I will.”

“And never be afraid to visit me either.” Dream cocked an eyebrow at you. You simply smiled back. “Are you surprised, Dream Lord? That one may enjoy your company?”

“Surprised?” He hummed in thought. “A little, if I must be honest, but I am more impressed by your forwardness.”

You shrugged. “Fear should not govern your life. I used to be ruled by it, but with immortality I decided to forgo it. To take charge and do as I please.”

He smiled, a true and genuine smile. “How human of you.”

“Not a bad thing I hope?”

“No, not at all.”

“Good.” You looked down the shoreline at the white tips out in the middle of the sea and to sea foam lining the shore. You glanced back at the cosmic entity. “Will you stay until I wake?”

Dream’s enchanting eyes, ones that held galaxies, connected with yours. And for a moment, you felt cradled by the endless expansive universe. “I will.”

You smiled softly then strolled forward side by side as you carried most, if not all, of the conversation.

And when you woke from the morning light, a warm feeling bloomed over your chest.

One which came time and time again. One which sparked, leaving you breathless, every time you saw either Dream or Hob.

Soon, another century quickly melted away. And two men were back in a tavern as if it was always meant to be.

Hob and Dream chatted, catching up on recent years, however as the sun started to dip worry grew in their hearts. Where was their third member? Where have you run off to? Were you okay? Did something happen? Questions ran rampant in their minds, but neither would voice their concerns. Only when someone announced themselves did a flicker of hope and relief flooded their chests. Yet, it was quickly chilled. It was someone that neither expected nor met before.

Lady Johanna Constantine.

She was escorted by two unseemly men, whom she had each paid handsomely. Lady Johanna approached the pair and demanded answers to untold secrets and to address the interesting rumors which swirled around the mysterious pair.

But, neither Hob or Dream was entertained in the slightest, or intimidated for that matter.

In a flash, a fight broke out only to end just as swiftly. The men - ruffians more accurately - slumped to the ground with a resounding boom. Hob huffed, straightening his jacket. A proud smirk danced on his lips. Centuries of battles, he had more than enough experience to deal with men like them. He turned to check on Dream when Lady Johanna whipped out a knife, brandishing it at Hob. Hob’s eyes dropped to the knife with complete disinterest, it was nothing but a lousy, flimsy object in his way.

Dream, however, was already on his feet. His dear friend had helped him, when it was unnecessary, so he wished to return the favor. He opened his palm, conjuring his sand. He brought his palm up to his lips then -

“Lady Johanna Constantine.”

Lady Johanna flinched. She recognized that voice.

And so had her newfound companions.

Hob and Dream snapped their attention up to the second floor. Leaning on the railing, you smiled down at the trio. “Apologies, gentlemen,” you said. “I had nearly forgotten the day. And given my invitation, I wouldn’t dare try to miss it.”

Hob beamed up at you. “I would say you are right on time.”

Lady Johanna’s eyes flickered to the men then back to you as you strolled down the stairs. “(Y/N), I was not aware you knew of these men,” Lady Johanna stated with her knife still directed at Hob.

“There are many things you do not know, Johanna.” You walked over to her. “But, it is no one’s fault but my own. A teacher should have properly prepared their students.”

“Teacher?” Hob exclaimed.

You gently grabbed Johanna’s wrist and lowered her knife. She allowed you to do so. “Yes, teacher. Or at least I was until she outgrew me.”

Johanna huffed. “You showed me many things, but knowledge sometimes is best learned through experience.”

“And yet here you are about to be put six feet under.”

“A calculated risk,” she quipped.

You snorted. “Calculated? That’s not what I would say.”

She grumbled.

“Johanna, I beg of you, please just go home.”

“Beg? Oh, that is rich coming from you.” She placed her hands on her hips. “Have I not groveled enough for your secrets? For your secrets for immortality?”

You frowned. “Johanna, please, let’s not -“

“I am not a child. Do not use that tone on me.”

You sighed, “This is simply not the place for such discussions.”

“Oh? Then where -“

Sand glittered in the air. It tickled past your nose. It smelled of your parents’ cooking when you were sick in bed; it smelled of your first sweet and how it assaulted your young senses; it smelled of home, of warmth, and of old dreams of your youth. The sand blew directly into Johanna’s face. She inhaled it. Her eyes glossed over to a ghostly white as she began to mumble and sink to her knees.

You whipped around.

Dream dropped his hand back to his side. He straightened his back, his eyes locked with yours. “Apologies,” he murmured. “It seemed the conversation was going in circles.”

You looked back at Johanna and sighed deeply. “It’s okay. You’re right, it probably would have ended in another argument.”

“She wants immortality?” Hob asked, looking between you and Johanna.

“Yes,” you swiftly answered, eyes still on Johanna. “But it is the one question I would not answer.”

“Why?” Dream asked intrigued.

You looked at both men. “For it is not my place to answer. If she so seeks it then she may summon Death herself, but I will not give her the tools.”

Dream’s eyebrow twitched, a faint raise to his wonder and interest.

“I think we all know immortality is not a single answer.”

Dream hummed, his lips curled into a knowing smile. “Yes, that you are right.”

Hob bent down in front of Johanna, confusion and bewilderment sparkled in his eyes. He was surrounded by other worldly people. He turned back to the two of you. “So, now what? Find a new tavern?”

Dream shook his head. “It’d be best to end our meeting and for the two of you to lie low.”

Hob stood up, and cockily replied. “Why? It’s not like they can kill us.”

“No, but they can capture you.”

Hob immediately frowned, and rubbed the side of his face.

“Then would you gentlemen care to join me in my new shop?”

They both looked at you. “Shop?” Hob asked.

“Or at least it will be one day, I haven't quite figured out the name yet. And to be honest, at the moment, it is just an empty space with dusty shelves.”

“What kind of shop will it be?”

“A witch shop.” You smirked.

Hob grimaced. “Is that truly the best idea?”

“I will sell herbs for medicinal purposes along with teas and other plants. To others it is a plain shop for alternative medicine, but to those wandering and keen eyes, I will have other items I will happily sell them.”

His eyes connected with yours for a moment. Your determination was palpable. He shook his head, and laughed once. “Will you have a cauldron brewing too?”

It’s not my place, he thought.

“Oh, yes, that’s the dream,” you teased. Your eyes flickered between the pair. “So, are either of you interested?”

Hob smiled kindly. “A rain check, another time.”

Dream nodded. “Yes, apologies, I must admit the same.”

You waved them off. “Do not worry yourself, I completely understand.”

Hob shuffled in place. “So? Next hundred years?”

“You may continue on without me.” You said.

The two men blinked shocked a little by your statement.

“Are you sure?” Hob pressed.

“This was always your meetings and I adore seeing both of you, but I do not want to interrupt anymore.”

“I can assure you, you’re not -“

“I see you both plenty and these are your arrangements, so please continue without me.”

Dream stared blankly for a moment then accepted. “As you wish, until our next meeting.”

“Until then,” you glanced at Hob, “to both of you. I do hope it will be sooner rather than later.”

And sooner it was. Much, much sooner.

The dented bell chimed as the shop door swung open. A dark figure hovered in the doorway illuminated by the dim lighting of candles and oil lamps. He was hauntingly beautiful, especially in this lighting, a dark king.

You knew who it was without having to look over. His presence, his power, rippled throughout the shop.

“So, this is your dream?”

You smiled to yourself as you shelved jars of dried herbs behind the counter. You peered over your shoulder. Dream stood in the doorway of your shop - or one day it will be in the Waking.

“What? Do you not like it?” You asked, finishing the last row of jars.

“I do.”

You whirled around, leaning on the glass counter.

Inside, the glass counter revealed an assortment of vials of oils with petals and leaves neatly organized in stands. In wooden trays, in rows of two, tea bags were laid out ready for any cup. Card holders scrawled in beautiful calligraphy said the name of the tea along with a list of the types of plants used. Handmade tea cups and pots, each painted in various colors and designs, lined the bottom of the display case.

Behind you were bookshelves were filled with jarred herbs, ointments, seeds, potpourri bags, inscenses, other trinkets; like wooden hand carved items like spoons, jewelry boxes, to minuscule animals. Books aligned the empty space, books on mythology, human anatomy, plants, to even just plain fiction.

The walls were covered. There were diagrams of scientific names and properties of plants, as well as paintings of people and animals frolicking. Even extravagant trapesteries, collected over the years, hung from hooks. No one could tell of the wallpaper, or the paint color, behind all the chaotic mess.

The shop as a whole was relatively small, but a cushiony small like a hug from an old friend. Soft, warm yellow, a setting sunlight, steamed in through the surrounding windows. Chairs, rickety yet plush and inviting, were tucked in the nearby corner closest to the door. A table wedged between them was filled with games, and paper and pencils, to pass the time. Potted plants hung from the ceiling, their vines and flowers cascading down. While, tall ferns sprouted in their pots in most nooks. Inhaling, it smelled like morning dew, to a field of flowers on a lush spring day, your favorite hot tea on a cold winter night, to a home cooked meal, to almost anything and everything.

It was almost a secret oasis.

Your oasis, your safe haven.

However, in the back, behind a locked door which only opens to your touch, was where the real magical items were stored. Things you’ve collected over the years, things you’ve enchanted, and things only those seeking would find.

Leaning on the counter, you eyed the dark figure clouding all the greenery. His eyes scanned the room, taking it all in. “Bit simple, isn’t it?”

Simple? The place, your shop, was far from simple. But, the dream?

“Simple is never a bad thing.”

You smiled at him. “I suppose you are right, Dream Lord.”

Dream circled around the shop, his eyes still soaking in all the details, even down to the cracks in the floorboards and the dents in the walls. “You know,” he began, “you can call me, Morpheus.”

“I could.”

Dream turned, facing you. “Then why don’t you?”

“Do you not like it when I call you by your title? Dream Lord, your majesty, sire,” you listed with a certain mischief in your eyes.

Dream would never admit it, but he did. He loved the way your mouth curled into a smirk as you teasingly said such boorish titles. It brought a shiver to his spine.

He strolled towards you, “I don’t mind it, but I am merely curious as to why you still address me as such.”

You shrugged. “Respect, if I have to guess.”

“And if you didn’t?” He stood in front of the counter, his pale blue eyes locked with yours.

You smiled. “Because it’s fun. You don’t really meet a lot of kings or royalty these days.”

He dropped his head, smiling.

“But, for you, I can change that.”

He snorted. “How noble.”

You leaned closer to him. Your eyes sparkled with stars, pulling him in. “I have you know, I am very noble, Morpheus.”

He smirked. “Is that so?”

“It is.” A moment passed, a skip of the heart. You pulled away. “So, what truly brings you here?”

“You spoke of your dream earlier and I simply wished to see it for myself.”

You hummed. “Is that all?”

“No,” he admitted. He walked over to the plush chairs and sat down. “We did not get a chance to speak, and I too wish to hear what you have been up to since I last saw you. For starters, I was not aware you were teaching witchcraft and Hob certainly wasn’t aware of it.”

You strolled over to him. “Hob fears for me, and I do not blame him given how we met. I’ve had my fair share of townspeople hunting after me, but I love what I do. I may omit the truth only to lessen his worries for me.”

“You care for him.”

You plopped down in the opposite chair. Your eyebrows knitted together. “Of course, I care for you both.”

Morpheus’s eyebrows shot up.

You snorted. “Surprised? Do you think you are unloved?”

“I … I am simply taken back by your forthrightness.”

“Morpheus, you and Hob are part of my life so of course I care for each of you.”

So deeply than neither of you could begin to fathom.

Morphues, almost bashful, looked away. You laughed, “You know, part of my dream is for you and Hob to see it. For all of us to be here together.”

“Is it?” He peered back up at you.

“It is.”

He hummed. “Then I hope one day I can help fulfill this dream.”

You smiled. “We are already halfway there.”

He smiled, and his eyes crinkled.

You were not sure how long you talked with Morpheus, but time was always different in the Dreaming. You each spoke of your life since your last visit, and soon wished each other farewell.

Throughout the next century, you continuously talked with Hob and Morpheus. And occasionally offered any assistance, both magical and non magical, if needed. Your shop, now in the Waking, bustled with new customers becoming more and more popular. Of course, the shop was passed from mother to daughter, to a distant cousin, and a name change here and there.

But, life was good. Perfect.

Sitting in front of your fireplace, in your upstairs apartment over your now closed shop, you closed your eyes. The rain, heavy and constant, was a steady drum beat. A comforting lull. Your body ached from packaging jars, filling orders, and maintaining your expansive house garden. Yet, you enjoyed it. Enjoyed how your body curled into the chair, enveloping you and how you felt accomplished after a hard day of work.

Life, however, still loved to ruin the cultivated peace.

“(Y/N).”

Your name whispered within your head, yet it wasn’t your voice. A warmth spread over your chest, as if someone’s hand laid on top of your heart. You placed your hand there, feeling your own skin.

“Hob,” you called out. “I hear you.”

“I’m coming over.”

You laughed once. “And I will be here.”

You had forgotten the date, forgotten the importance.

Hob, drenched from the pouring rain and your locket in his grasp, soon appeared at your door. You immediately let him in and guided him over to the fire. A towel appeared out of thin air and wrapped around the sopping man’s shoulders. Hob tugged on the towel, then spilled into the evening’s events. He tried to bite back the pain, tried to ignore the sting in his chest, but he couldn’t any longer.

“What did I do wrong?” Hob mumbled his throat thick with oncoming tears. “Why did I say that?”

What ifs and countless scenarios replayed over and over.

You listened to every word, trying to comfort him. Yet, your own sorrows grew.

And so did your anger.

Hob eventually fell asleep, completely exhausted and drained, on your couch. His hair now dry curled in odd directions. And luckily, you were able to switch out his clothes for comfortable warm pajamas.

“He’s my friend.” A thousand other promises hung in the air from his three words. I don’t want to lose him … I love him.

You pulled the quilt up over his shoulders. Brushing back his hair, you bent down and kissed his head. “I will try to fix this,” you whispered.

Because I don’t want to lose him either.

You sat down on the floor, leaning back into the couch. Hob’s face was a simple turn from yours.

You stole a moment and stared at him.

He was finally at ease. Yet, a crease still laid between his brows. A frown tugged on the corner of his lips. His cheeks were still stained with tears, no matter how many times you brushed them away.

Anger flared. An anger directed at Morpheus. Hours. Hours spent consoling Hob, and failing to soothe his pain - pain, if you may add, Morpheus inflicted.

You gritted your teeth. You will have answers, demanding them if you must. Closing your eyes, leaning your head near Hob and memorizing his sullen features one last time, you inhaled deeply and silenced any thoughts.

The tug, the weightlessness, then the solid ground beneath your feet.

You had entered the Dreaming.

Morpheus, in his throne room, tried to distract his thoughts by reading. Thoughts of his recent meeting, thoughts of Hob’s biting words, thoughts of you which always crept in when he saw Hob.

“Must you be the most insufferable being in existence!” Your voice boomed throughout the grand room.

Your anger had gotten the better of you.

Morpheus jaw clenched. He didn’t wish to speak with you. He was still bitter from his encounter with Hob, and he knew your presence alone would make it worse. Sitting on top of his throne, he snapped his book shut and slowly rose to his feet. There you stood at the bottom of the stairs, glaring up at him.

“And what do I owe for the pleasure of your company in my throne room?” Morpheus descended the stairs, step by step, looking down his nose at you.

“Why did you say such things to Hob?”

Morpheus gritted his teeth. He did not want to dwell on Hob Gadling anymore. “Why are you intervening where you are not welcomed?”

“I am intervening, your majesty, because a mutual friend has come to me with questions I cannot answer, and an absolutely heartbroken look on his face.”

Regret and sorrow flickered behind his eyes. That was why. That was why he didn’t wish to dwell on Hob. It was the suffocating guilt which weighed in his chest that he could not run from. But, he could smother it, smother it in a fiery anger.

It was something he understood better.

He steeled his emotions with his signature passive stare. “He spouts nonsense and insults me to my face.”

“Insults?” You began to climb up the steps. “You think he was insulting you?”

“He dared to think to call me lonely.” He hissed through his teeth. Anger, he needed this anger.

“Because you are.”

We all are.

You hovered directly in front of him. Morpheus, on a single step above, glared down at you. He towered over, a grand entity of the world’s unconsciousness. Your faces only inches apart as you glared menacingly at each other.

“You think I am in need of such company?” He asked lowly.

“You do not wish to hear what I think, Dream Lord.”

He chuckled darkly. “You burst into my throne room, pointing fingers, and throwing insults and now you wish to hold your tongue?”

Your eyes searched his eyes for the truth beneath this grandiose act. Yet, you couldn’t. Either he truly believed it, or he buried it well.

You scoffed, and spun on your heel, walking away.

“And where are you going?” Morpheus asked with a snarl.

“I will leave and wait until you get off your pompous throne, your majesty, and admit the truth.”

Morpheus took a single step down. “The truth?”

You whipped around, looking up with tears in your eyes. Morpheus was taken back. The guilt rose tenfold. The memory of Hob’s broken face and now yours tore his heart apart. But, he did not show it. It all read as a twitch of his eyebrows, and a new tension in his jaw.

“That we are your friends,” you said, plainly.

He stared, unable to speak or to find the words to do so. His throat clenched. Where was his anger from before?

“What a fool we are.” You muttered.

He blinked. A fool?

“We are just humans to you, are we not? Below you in every way, right?”

He bit his tongue. No, you weren’t. Never. However, his pride was more important, or so he thought. He was an Endless, a cosmic entity balancing the universe. So, were you technically not below? Yes, in a way. But, he served you, served humanity.

Anger.

He clung to his anger, finding the hot rage far more comforting than the icy chill of guilt. So, he stayed silent.

And it stung. Immensely.

You loved him. You loved Morpheus deeply, in a carnal way. You loved him like the way you needed air to breathe. Yet, you also loved Hob. You loved him easily like a gentle breeze constantly guiding you forward.

But, you would side with Hob.

“I will not return till you admit your wrongs,” you said. You quickly turned away, your body vanishing as you awoke and took the first step to temporarily severing yourself from the Dreaming.

All the while, Morpheus was now left alone stewing with his thoughts.

[thepaintedlady00]

Can I request Morpheus and witch!reader? (One of my faves in sandman fanfic) fluff angst whatever you desire! 💗

Morpheus x Witch!reader is one of my favorite pairings! I went the fluffy route because I love a good fluff piece!

"I trust your rituals have gone well," Dream said from the doorway as he watched you blow out the last of the candles.

You smiled back at him, smug but no less sweet. "Don't sound so jealous Dream of the Endless."

He took a few steps into the room, eyes running over the dried plants that hung on your walls and the tiny trinkets that cluttered almost every space in your home. He enjoyed looking through your many charms and leafing through your books while you cleaned up after rituals or just did things around your quaint home. It had been hard for him at first, after being trapped by amateur witches before, but you were no amateur. You'd taken great care learning new spells and done extensive research before even attempting things you did not quite understand.

Having an immortal boyfriend made studying easy. Not only was he alive during every time period where witchcraft was practiced and honed, but he also had an entire library filled with the collective knowledge of the world. You spent many nights with Lucienne, searching for books and tomes and discussing the techniques of certain magics.

Dream finally stopped in front of you, lovingly looking down at you. "I am hardly jealous."

"No?" You asked. "Because to me, it seems like you only ever show up when I've been doing a ritual involving another deity. Seems rather, jealous does it not?"

It was partially true and both of you knew it. Dream was proud of all you accomplished but of course, he still enjoyed having you all to himself. "Perhaps I simply wished to be in your company."

You smiled and pushed yourself up on the tips of your toes to press a kiss on his cheek. "Don't worry, dear, you'll always be my favorite immortal being."

"That is relieving," he answered, reaching out to hold you. "Now, perhaps we could try another ritual of sorts."

[melancholypancakes]

I still stand by my statement. Unless you’re an ancient being. Goddess.Queen of a real, or a witch you can’t handle Morpheus in an romantic relationship

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

Only you can set alight the fire in me

pairing: Morpheus x reader

warnings: allusion to smut, angst

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

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

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

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

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

And he did.

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

--------

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

Morpheus halts. He recognizes her voice.

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

"Tell me about it."

--------

We succeeded, as I believed we would.

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

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

Nearly.

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

"You love her."

"What?"

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

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

"How so?"

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

He kisses me again, and again, and again.

Endlessly.

The end.

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

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

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