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starmocha · 6 months ago

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Oh oh oh since we're sharing pregnant mc hcs, how about one where they got a bit carried away, they did it, she got pregnant, he "died", by some miracle she didn't lose the baby, she's an excellent, doting, badass mom. then when he comes back he finds the love of his life with a little 1 year old baby girl that could be considered mc's perfect clone except for the eyes. the eyes are his. IMAGINE THE ANGST THE HURT THE TEARS THE LOVEEEEE!!!!!

🫵 are you guys using my Caleb-addled brain to sneak around my “I don’t take requests” condition. /lh 😔 this is who I am now, I guess. I see Caleb, I cave… 🥺

Endless Summer

It was an ambush, another attempt on his life.

It was the thirteenth time in three months, as a matter of fact. Caleb had thwarted all of the previous attempts with ease, always on guard, untrusting of those who claimed to have vowed their loyalty to him as their colonel.

As you learned, you couldn’t trust anyone in Skyhaven, much less the Farspace Fleet. Dark secrets surrounded this seemingly elite entity and though it appeared like the place ran like a machine with perfect precision and efficiency, there was still an insidious side that Caleb refused to let you see.

It wasn’t just his life they were after. They were after yours as well, using you as the ultimate pawn to get to him. Little do they suspect, while you may be his greatest weakness, you were also his strength, his sole reason to persevere.

This was to be a fatal lesson for many to learn.

It was supposed to be a celebratory banquet, thrown in honor of the Farspace Fleet’s Colonel’s latest achievements. There were no deceptions by the hosts, but a traitorous group seized this opportunity to trap the young colonel and all doors within the banquet halls locked, keeping many of the guests hostages in the process.

Within the center of the room, Caleb calmly eyed all of the familiar faces that loomed overhead on the second floor as all around, innocent guests rushed to the exits, banging and screaming for help. He tried to push you away, get you to safety.

They were after him, after all. You didn’t need to be in the crossfires.

You didn’t have time to react, hearing that first gunshot that led the way for the onslaught of bullets.

Something in Caleb snapped that night. The barrage of bullets that came at him and you from all directions would have taken down anyone, but they all froze midair only because of his Evol freezing them in their track and keeping them suspended as if time had frozen at this very moment. He soon, however, learned it was merely a distraction.

Ca…leb…

The moment he saw the crimson blood seeping from your side, that knife pulled out quickly, and you were falling, eyes closing, as he ran toward you yelling your name. His Evol flared out of control, the gravity in the room suddenly immensely heavy, as dozens of men were pulled to their knees in futile struggles.

Open your eyes, he pleaded, his uniform soaked with your blood. His face twisted in pain, a million thoughts rushing through his mind, all of the memories of the past resurfaced in quick successions. All of those years of smiles and laughter that transitioned to pain and distrust only to slowly return to some semblances of the past were now coming to an end before his very eyes. He couldn’t lose you like this, not when he had promised that he would make things right again, to be the man that you deserved. Please…please…

You struggled to breathe, the pain unlike anything you had experienced in your life. As he watched you teetered closer to death, he was filled with wrath, an anger that could not be calmed by any forces in this world.

Caleb held his hand out, and a gun laying on the floor levitated before it rushed into his grip from across the room, and without a thought or any remorse or even hesitancy, he fired bullet after bullet into each man’s head, a clean shot straight through the center, not flinching even as the surrounding guests screamed and huddled to the floor, covering their ears from that violent, horrid sound.

When the last traitor fell, Caleb dropped the gun with a clatter, and his arms wrapped entirely around you, pulling you closer to his body for warmth. Your breathing had weakened even more, but he could still save you. He hadn’t failed you. Not yet, not ever. You were going to live. He would make sure of it.

Even if he now realized you were safer away from him.

Colonel Caleb, you had only slept for four hours last night, the robotic voice of an OTTO said with some semblance of concern in its artificial vocal. It levitated after its owner as the young colonel adjusted his uniform. The robot continued, explaining, An adult man of your age requires ei—

“I’ve slept enough,” he interrupted firmly, ignoring the robot, whose monitor quickly displayed a digitalized look of concern. Caleb had thought often of shutting down the robot and dismantling it, but he could never carry through, remembering that he had purchased this robot for you.

In this cold, monotonous so-called-home of his in Skyhaven, Caleb had few things that reminded him of you. A few plushies you two had won together sat on his living room couch, some snapshots you two had taken together at a photobooth, and perhaps a few furniture pieces you had ordered to be sent directly to his home. You had been in the process of bringing warmth and life into this place when everything came to an abrupt stop.

If he hadn’t taken you to that banquet that night nearly two years ago, Caleb wondered how things would have played out. You wouldn’t have gotten injured that night, but he feared perhaps it would just delay that same outcome. That night, he found himself at a fork in the road, forced to make a decision that would change the course of both of your lives.

Keep you by his side, where he had foolishly believed you would always be safe under his protection, or, let you go, let you believe that whatever had happened that night, he was the one who had died, finally taken away by Death himself. It was better to let you believe he had actually died this time, to keep you from searching for him, to keep you far away from Skyhaven—to keep you from him.

Since that night almost two years ago, Caleb’s nightmares had worsened. He relived the dreadful night, but he had also had other terrifying dreams so horrendous, he would wake up screaming in cold sweats, completely disoriented, unsure if he was trapped within another layer of the nightmare, or if he was truly awake.

“She’s safe, she’s safe,” he would often mutter to himself, an attempt to convince himself that he had made the right choice, that setting you free was the only way he could keep you safe. As long as you lived, he would bear the weight of his sacrifice, even if it meant never seeing you ever again.

It was sunny in Linkon, not a cloud in the sky, and the weather warm and inviting, but to Caleb, it was a place he had forbidden himself from ever stepping foot in again, out of fear that your paths would cross. In all of those times since he had distanced himself from you, allowed you to believe he was dead, he had managed to avoid any reason to step foot in the place that was once his home.

When his adjutant, Liam, had informed Caleb that his schedule required him to attend a conference meeting in Linkon, the young colonel stiffened, the atmosphere in the room stifling almost as if he was using his Evol. He suppressed his initial instinct to yell, knowing Liam was well aware of Caleb’s situation and had in the past made the necessary arrangements to prevent him from having any reason to step foot in that city.

It seemed he couldn’t stay away from Linkon forever, so he resigned to this situation, still remaining vigilant in his stance. Linkon was a big city, and there was no reason for your paths to cross. He would make do with this troublesome situation for the time being.

Now, Caleb had intended to return to Skyhaven the moment the meeting ended, and yet, against his better judgment, he found himself wandering down familiar streets, lost in memories of happier times. As he walked, before his eyes, he saw the silhouettes of him and you as children running down the street after school to your favorite little vintage grocery store.

Caleb, you dummy, you can’t use your Evol!

Don’t blame my Evol because you can’t run fast on those short legs, pipsqueak!

Caleb chuckled. He couldn’t help it. The memories of those years seemed so much more carefree. He often wished to go back to that time when the only things that weighed on yours and his shoulders were school or silly childish arguments.

As he approached the old grocery store, closed just a few years prior, he was surprised to learn that it was now under new ownership. The familiar place of his childhood was now a small trendy café, popular with college students and young couples.

To his astonishment—and, perhaps, also relief—the vibrant hydrangea garden in the back remained. Bushes of the white, blue, and pink flowers bloomed in the garden, showing that its new owner took well care of the plants. They looked like the hydrangeas of his childhood, of those long summer afternoons that never seemed to end as he and you made this place just another secret hideout only you two would ever know. As he walked down a beaten path, distracted, he was stirred out of his nostalgic thoughts when he felt something bumped into his leg. He peered down, surprised to see a little girl in a light orange dress, the same color as the sunset he used to see in his airplane when he was a pilot, was clinging to his leg. He looked around, not seeing any adult in sight to indicate they were the child’s guardian.

He furrowed his brows, a little in annoyance, as he was not prepared to suddenly be grappled with the responsibility of a lost child. He knelt down lower, and immediately, he startled as he took in the little girl’s appearance, a near perfect carbon copy of you, but the eyes—he stared into sweet little violet eyes that mirrored his own, seeing his shocked face reflected in these orbs. The girl looked up at him with curiosity, the wind swaying her short bob while a little yellow chunky cartoon airplane hairclip held her side bangs in place.

Suddenly, she started tearing up, breaking Caleb out of his trance and for the first time in a while, he felt panicked, unsure of what to do. The girl started to cry and Caleb immediately lifted her up, her head resting onto his shoulder as he rubbed her back and soothed her.

He shushed her gently, his caregiver instinct reignited after years of dormancy. “Why are you crying, sweetheart?” he asked her gently, his soothing voice a complete opposite to the tone he used as colonel.

The girl sobbed. She looked so young, Caleb realized, surmising that she probably had barely started learning to speak.

“Are you lost?” he asked in that same tender tone despite knowing the child would be unable to answer him. He continued, “You miss your mommy, don’t you?”

He rubbed her back again, wondering with trepidation if this child’s mother was who he thought it would be. For just a second, his heart stopped when he felt the little girl gripping the fabric of his uniform with her small hands. Quickly, he recomposed himself.

“It’s alright,” he whispered, his hand smoothed the back of her hair. “Let’s go look for your Mommy, alright?”

“Ma...ma…” the girl struggled to say. She rubbed her face against Caleb’s shoulder, and he smiled gently, unbothered that his once pristine uniform was now covered in a child’s snot.

“Okay, mama,” he repeated, “I’ll help you find your mama, sweetheart.”

When he was just about to turn around to head back to the café, he froze again, hearing a familiar voice he hadn’t heard in years. He could feel his heart beating against his chest, actually feeling every heavy thump as the seconds passed and the voice grew closer, a name cried out—the little girl’s.

The child in his arms wriggled, and cried louder, seeing her mother over Caleb’s shoulder. “Mama! Mama!”

Stiffly, Caleb knelt lower and gently set the girl down to her feet, barely registering as the child toddled passed him to her mother.

A completely different feminine voice called out, angry. “Were you trying to kidnap a child in broad dayli—”

Caleb stood up and turned around, his face pale.

“Cale…Caleb?” You stared in shock, feeling like you were seeing his ghost again. Again.

“Mama…Mama…!” Your daughter nuzzled her face against your chest as you held her. You broke out of your trance and instantly redirected your attention to your child. You quickly soothed her, well aware that Caleb’s eyes were locked on you, his face just as shocked as yours but for entirely different reasons. Once the little girl calmed down you passed her off to your companion, saying, “Tara, take her back to the café.”

Tara looked at you worriedly, her eyes darting to Caleb with suspicion. One look into Caleb’s eyes, seeing that same, perfect shade of purple, and the young woman quickly understood the situation. She nodded quietly and took the girl from you. “Come on, sweetie, auntie Tara is going to buy you a cupcake, okay?”

You waited until Tara and your daughter were out of sight. You couldn’t look at him. You wanted to look at him, to make sure your eyes were not deceiving you, to make sure that this was not an illusion, not a cruel, mocking figment of your imagination. But you couldn’t. You felt cowardly in that instance, being afraid of the truth. Afraid of his reaction. Of everything.

“You were…you were pregnant?” he questioned, feeling a wave of guilt washed over him.

Just hearing those words made you realized this was him. This was Caleb, the man you thought was taken away from you. Again.

Suddenly, you broke down crying and you looked up at him with tears running down your cheeks.

“Caleb, you dummy,” you sobbed, “You fucking dummy!”

He gasped, unprepared when you rushed at him and started beating his chest half-heartedly with your small fists as you continued to sob and curse him over and over again. He let you carry out your anger, let you punished him as you saw fit in this moment, but when the punches weakened, he gently grabbed your wrists, lowering them to your sides before his arms wrapped around you in comfort, his apologies immediate.

“Yeah,” he agreed in that ever familiar soft and gentle tone reserved only for you, “I am a fucking dummy.”

You sniffled against his chest, gripping tightly the lapel of his coat.

The afternoon passed slowly, initially tensed and awkward, but eventually all of the missing pieces of the puzzle fell into place, and you both struggled to come to terms with the picture of the missing years. You peered at the man to your side, seeing Caleb hunched over, his cap in his lap, looking much like a sinner struggling to come to terms with his wrongs.

“You didn’t know,” you whispered after a while, wanting to break this stifling silence. You reached for his arm, but he tensed before his shoulders slumped again.

“That’s no excuse,” he said, looking up at you. He started to reach for your cheek, hesitating at the last second, as if he was afraid that you would recoil from his touch. He started to pull back but you grabbed at his hand, guiding it to your cheek. He stared in shock as you nuzzled your face against his palm, and you gazed at him with glistened eyes.

“You’re not allowed to die again,” you scolded him. “Promise me that.”

He nodded numbly, his voice clear and steady. “I promise,” he said, repeating in a more hushed, firm tone, “I promise.”

He leaned forward, guiding your lips to his, his words still repeating in between breath. You let him drown you in his kisses, let yourself dizzied and relent to his feverish promises. When your lips parted, just a few centimeters, his warm breath grazed over your trembling lips before he pressed another kiss to your forehead.

“I’m sorry,” he said, “I... will you…”

You looked up, seeing the struggles in his violet eyes. He appeared to hesitate again, unsure of what right he had to seek your forgiveness, wondering if he was overstepping the boundary between the two of you.

You gently coaxed him, seeing relief washed over his guilty features. “Will I what?”

“Will you…let me make things right?” he asked, “Let me…earn your forgiveness. I…please…”

He almost wanted to say, I can’t lose you again but the words died at his lips. He, of all people, had no rights to utter such words in your presence. He looked so defeated, beaten down to the point he no longer recognized himself anymore.

You took his hand, just like you always seemed to do, and you pulled him to his feet, to his surprise. He gazed at you questionably, his heart stopping at your words.

“Caleb,” you said his name so sweetly, “I want you to meet…our daughter.”

The summer air was warm even as the sky darkened, and stars after stars appeared above to illuminate the world below. The gentle breeze ruffled Caleb’s hair as he stared down at the sleeping girl in his arms. Maybe it was because she was still so young and impressionable, or perhaps she could already sense who he was to her, but the girl clung to him immediately, already feeling safe and protected in his presence.

His heart felt heavy, overwhelmed by guilt, a feeling of failure, and also of self-loathing, but as he gazed down at his daughter, another feeling stirred, just as intense but much more forgiving. He didn’t think he could feel such love as he did now as he peered down at the sleeping girl, nuzzled against him on his lap, peacefully slumbering away.

He wondered what she was dreaming of as he admired how much she resembled her mother. Hesitantly, he let his finger caressed her cheek, in complete, silent awe at how soft and delicate her skin was. He was almost afraid of hurting her, feeling a need to protect her just as he protected her mother. He looked up at you, his cheeks and ears reddening when he realized you had been laughing at his expense.

“It’s alright,” you told him amid your giggles.

“You’re laughing at me.”

“You deserve it, you big dummy.”

He let out a huff, in mock annoyance, but he agreed with you. “Alright,” he conceded, “I deserve it.”

“Do you want to begin your path to seeking forgiveness from us?” you asked him, a playful, teasing lilt in your voice, unmissed by Caleb as he raised a brow in curiosity.

“Just like that?” he questioned, confused by your leniency with him.

You nodded. “You still love me, right?”

“I’ve never stopped,” he said, his solemn words had you blushing against your better judgment, your heart quickening when he looked at you so lovelorn. You quickly composed yourself, returning to your mischievousness from seconds ago.

“You love her, right?” you asked, your eyes shifting to your sleeping daughter in his arms.

He sighed, mesmerized. “So much already,” he whispered, and again, you found yourself softening, touched by his sincerity.

“Okay, we’ll forgive you,” you answered, catching Caleb’s attention as he looked at you almost bemused by your easygoing attitude. “First step.”

“Which is?”

“You have to make us your specialty,” you said, laughing at Caleb’s look of complete bewilderment unfit for a colonel of his status. Clearly, you had blindsided him completely with this first condition. You clarified with a mischievous twinkle in your eyes, “You have to make your braised chicken wings.”

He stared at you as if not comprehending your words. You laughed and leaned closer to him, your head resting on his shoulder. “I ate a lot of braised chicken wings while pregnant,” you said, reminiscing to that lonely period in your life without his presence. You reached over and brushed your daughter’s flyaway hair out of her face, continuing softly, “But they weren’t as good as yours.”

Caleb let out a huff of breath, a soft, resigned laugh as he readjusted his arm, letting it wrapped around you as he pulled you closer into his embrace. He leaned over and kissed the top of your head. “Okay,” he answered, “I take it she also likes braised chicken wings then?”

You leaned into him, nodding once. “She’ll love yours more,” you said, and then looked up, your heart quickening again as you gazed into his beautiful violet eyes, grateful that your daughter had chosen to inherit this sole feature from her father. Breathlessly, you uttered softly, your words for his ears only, “She’ll love you.”

“And you?” he whispered back, that same hesitancy still prominent in his tone. He looked at you expectantly as he asked, “Do you still love me?”

“I’ve never stopped,” you echoed his words back to him, continuing in that same hushed tone, “I’ll always love my dummy Caleb.”

“Alright,” he said, his voice resigned, holding you just a bit tighter, as if he was afraid this was a cruel, taunting dream he would wake up from.

As Caleb watched your eyes closed, he looked down, eyes darting from you to his daughter, and he wondered if he deserved any of this. In the warm summer night, surrounded by the blossoming blue and pink and white hydrangeas, he silently apologized for his mistakes, promising that for the remainder of his life, he would become a better man, deserving of both of you.

Just like the little boy from long ago, once he had made a promise to you, he would never break it.

He swore it on his life.

#x — 💌#anonymous #love and deepspace #love and deepspace caleb #love and deepspace x reader #caleb x reader #love and deepspace fanfiction #lads scenarios #caleb angst #caleb fluff #on the plus side #yayyyyyy i get to use my colonel caleb endless summer cap <3333 #i hope i am not giving ppl expectations or the impression that i will write all caleb headcanons/scenarios that come in .___.#but i also wonder if i am lying to myself and i will do just that #because #i love him so much pls love him too ;-;

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cardansriddle · 10 days ago

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Across the Dreams - (Morpheus x fem!reader)

Summary: You meet him in your dreams. You do not know him or his name, you only know that he returns to you every night, taking you in ways you crave but do not understand.

warnings: dream sex but it's not very explicit. not proofread.

A/N: I (nervously) present the long anticipated morpheus one shot. This is for all of you little rascals in my inbox asking me to get done with it and post it. Hope you enjoy and lmk what you think!!

༻♛༺

You do not quite recall when exactly you started seeing him. Maybe it was on one of those nights you were so exhausted your limbs melted into your bed like they belonged there more than they belonged on your body. Perhaps he came to you then, slipped through the cracks of your half-forgotten dreams, weaving himself in your fantasies that never quite made architectural sense.

All you know is that he was there.

And he was there every night.

You always felt him before you saw him. The shadowed edges of your dreams would forge into the shape of him—him who was tall, lean, little more than the glimmer of pale skin visible beneath the dark coat that brushed the floor of your subconscious and somehow stirred even though there was no wind.

His wild hair fell in black, inky strands that framed the sharp edges of his face but never seemed to settle. It was as if the air refused to touch him, or maybe it was him who refused to belong to the air, or perhaps he owned the very air around him. His skin was pale—not the delicate pallor of the sleepless, but the absence of sunlight itself, as if he had stood untouched for centuries beneath a sky that forgot how to burn.

And then there were his eyes.

Oh, his eyes.

His eyes were so incredibly black, like bottomless pits that offered you a glimpse of the vast darkness of the cosmos. And there were stars in his eyes. You did not see them at first. You had to step closer. You did not remember deciding to move, but you did. Your feet dragged forward, slow and helpless, and when you lifted your gaze you saw it— the faintest glimmer of stars trapped inside his eyes.

The sight of them was enough to pin you in place the first time. Because that was when you realised.

He was old.

Not old in the sense of years or decades. No.

He was old in the way stories are old. Old in the way stars are old. Old in the way you were never supposed to see, or know, or touch. But you did.

The first time, you remember you were hesitant. You remember how slowly you had rose your arm, your fingertips sparking with something desperate, aching to close the impossible space between you and touch his skin. You remember how his dark eyes had followed every movement of your hand, brows twitching—the faintest ripple across his otherwise unmoved face— as if amused, and also surprised, perhaps even outraged at your presumption that you could dare touch him.

He stopped you.

He caught your hand before you could complete the touch, his fingers cool as they closed firmly around yours, pressing your hand down as if to remind you. Of what, you did not quite know back then.

It was only later, after countless times of seeing him in your dreams that you realised. When you first touched, it had to have been on his terms.

His gaze slid over you—not with tenderness, but with a kind of distant permission, the way one might allow a flame to flicker a little closer to the drapes just to see what happens.

His other hand rose with deliberate slowness, trailing up to graze the edge of your jaw. His touch was impossibly cool, his skin like marble—unforgiving at first, but yielding in the places where he chose to let you feel him. His thumb dragged slowly along your lower lip, and he looked at you as if you were not entirely real. Funny, considering how he was a man made of shadows with the entire cosmos held in his eyes. You remember the weight of his fingers against you. You remember leaning into it.

You did not know his name. You did not ask.

After that first encounter, the dreams pressed closer, hotter, rougher—your body pinned beneath his as he claimed you against the wall of some crumbling hall, the slick grass of a forest that flickered in and out of coherence, the ground, the marble floor of a castle, still and perhaps never making architectural sense.

You never begged him to stop. But you did beg him not to leave.

And he did not. Night after night, he returned. He touched you like he knew the notes to the strings of your body, and your soul and body sang for him in response. He filled you with his essence, and hoped his seed would take. You knew because he whispered it in your ear like a dirty, secret confession. Every night.

Overtime, you learned to claim him too. You shed your shyness, climbed him boldly like his lap was your throne to sit on, and touched him like it was your birthright.

It went on for months.

And every time you woke from these dreams, you could always feel the lingering echo of his touch, as if it had been seared into your skin. You spent your waking hours in turmoil, thinking about your dreams, about him. You were getting addicted, you could barely function during the day without wishing you could fall asleep, fall into the arms of your dream man. You started going to bed earlier. You started skipping plans. You started craving sleep like it's a drug and he is the nameless dealer.

The days shrink. The nights length.

But it does not matter, not anymore, for every time you fall asleep, he is waiting. Like tonight.

The moment your conscious enters the Dreaming, his weight settles over you like velvet and iron, but you do not mind, it is an ache you ache to bear. Like every night, he claims you. He takes you against the trembling edge of reason, until the line between you and him feels like it was never there.

You still have not asked for his name. You fear what would happen if you spoke it aloud. You don’t know if you are dreaming, or if the dreaming has devoured you whole.

But you want to know, you need to know it for your own sanity.

So once he had his way with ruining you, you decide, for the first time in months, you decide to voice the question. Your lips part, your breath shallow against his palm, still cool against your jaw.

"...Who are you?"

His head tilts, just slightly, the faintest quirk of his mouth appearing as though the question itself amused him more than any answer he might give.

His thumb ghosts over your lower lip, slow and thoughtful.

“That is not a question you should ask.” His voice curls into you, soft and dark and ancient.

But you do not back down. "You have absolutely ruined me for anyone else. I believe I deserve at least the curtesy of knowing your name." The words rush out before you can stop them. and even you are surprised at your own bravery to be so direct with him.

His brows lift, a flicker of something behind his eyes—interest, perhaps. Or patience thinning.

So you decide to soften your request. "Please," you swallow, pulse thudding in your throat.

“You may call me…” A pause, deliberate one. “…Morpheus.”

You whisper it back to him, testing the shape of it in your mouth. "Morpheus."

His gaze darkens at the way his name falls from your lips. You fear for a moment he might pin you beneath him and have his way for the second time in one night. But he does not. He quenches the fire rising beneath his skin instead.

“Careful,” he says, his thumb pressing just slightly harder against your lip. “Names are powerful things.”

It sounds like a warning, one you think you need to heed, but before you can say anything in response, you jolt awake suddenly.

Once again, alone, in your bed.

You release a heavy sigh and look at the ceiling helplessly. You ask the heavens how long you can bear to live like this— living in your dreams, dreading your waking hours. How long you can continue being in love with a man who does not exist.

You close your eyes and imagine him. "Morpheus," you whisper to yourself wistfully. You half expect him to be there when you open your eyes, and you laugh at yourself with pity when he is not.

You push the covers away, and decide you need to start getting on with your day.

You’re still heavy with the weight of last night’s dream when you step outside. The city hums around you, a thin, irritating buzz—car horns, rubber on asphalt, hurried footfalls. You barely notice them. It is him you are thinking about. His hands, his mouth, his breath against your throat. His name.

You approach the crosswalk, waiting for the sign to change. And then, the air shifts. The sound of the city drops out like someone’s cut the wires.

With furrowed brows, you slowly lift your head. And then—

You see him.

Your body freezes. Because it is him. Across the street. Standing perfectly still, untouched by the blur of people rushing past him. He’s wearing that long, black coat—the same one you’ve clutched in your fists, the same one you’ve felt brushing your bare skin in sleep. His hair falls in black waves around his face, just as it does when he leans over you, when his hands pin you to the floor of the dreams.

His skin is impossibly pale. His eyes are—

Your breath catches.

They’re the same. The same impossible, depthless black, the same faint shimmer of stars caught in the dark.

He’s real.

He’s real. Here. Now.

And he’s looking at you.

Not past you. Not through you.

At you.

The corner of his mouth twitches, just enough to be deliberate. Enough to tease you, or perhaps taunt you, you do not know. You do not care to know. You need to cross the road to him. Now.

The crosswalk signal changes.

Heart hammering, throat burning, you take a step towards him.

A car horn blares somewhere behind you.

When you blink, he’s gone.

༻♛༺

#dream of the endless #morpheus x reader #morpheus x you #dream x reader #dream of the endless x reader #the sandman #morpheus one shot #morpheus smut #morpheus x reader smut #lord morpheus #king of dreams #morpheus

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savedenji · 13 days ago

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it's been hours since the first six episodes premiered. WHERE ARE THE MORPHEUS FICS? WHERE ARE ALL THE WRITERS? HE'S SO FINE THIS SEASON AND WE GET MORE MOMENTS OF HIM BEING VULNERABLE. 😭😭😭

I mean, it's been like three years since the first season premiered, and after Ng's accusations, I totally understand why almost everyone has decided to leave the show. Also, remember not to support Neil financially, in any way!

#the sandman #the sandman x reader #morpheus #morpheus x reader #the sandman s2 #the sandman season 2 #dream x reader #dream of the endless x reader #dream

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dissolved-g1rl · 6 days ago

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stars fadin’ but I linger on ⋆˙⟡

Dream would never stoop so low as to describe the situation with vulgarity, but he feels as though Hob describes it best, Morpheus “really really fucked up”. He will fix this, at least…he’s trying. Flowers was the first step, then was an expensive perfume, next was a stormy nightmare. He’s not targeting you, despite what his siblings think, he has learned his lessons from past relationships. In fact many people have had rather stormy dreams, the king of dreams grief is palpable to millions all over.

You’re summoned to the dreaming, thats how you know Morpheus is through with quarreling. The halls seems impossibly long as you make your way down his castle halls. It’s a little embarrassing to be here, wearing your pajamas. A pinch to your skin, a light slap to your cheek, and a mantra of “this is just a dream” are the methods you try to wake yourself up, all to no avail. The halls seem to twist, only certain doors unlocking as the dreaming is bent to the will of its ruler, leading you down to the throne room. Surprisingly, the king of dreams is not residing in his throne.

“You came.” A familiar voice appears from behind you, you don’t need to be a genius to know who it is.

“Did you really give me a choice?” You ask, he set you loose like a rat in a maze, just tempting you towards the sharp taste of cheese. “I suppose not.” Morpheus replies, “Though you didn’t give me much of a choice but you call you to my realm.” He rebuttals, he looks pleased when you take a seat in his throne, bold little thing you are, even in your cute pajamas. The feeling is unlike another, like a fine wood, sturdy, more comfortable than you thought. “I needed some space.” You shrug tapping your nails against the arm of the chair. “And I’ve respected that, have I not?” Morpheus’ voice is a tinge of frustration and a tinge of want, nervousness twists in your stomach as he makes his way up the steps. He won’t hurt you, you know that, but he is still very well known for being temperamental towards his lovers.

Finally Dream stands in front of you, looking down at you. What he does next surprises you, he kneels. Morpheus resides between your legs, resting at your feet. Instead of looking down at you, he’s looking up at you with reverence. His lips are slightly parted as he looks at you with an almost pained expression, “Angel, my northern star, forgive me, I was a fool to push you away.” Morpheus grabs your hand, placing apologetic kisses from the tips of your fingers to you wrist. Each one slow and methodical. “Dream…” You murmur, totally stunted at the sight before you. The king of dreams kneeling whilst begging for your forgiveness, no one in a million years would ever believe you. His hand clasps yours and he lays his head in your lap like a lowly animal begging for scraps of attention. He looks up with you with his dark eyes, you take pity on him, caressing the side of his face, he sighs with relief, you touch is like a soothing balm upon his aching heart. “How I’ve missed you.” He mumbles, you want to laugh at how melodramatic he is, it’s half neurotic half charming. “C’mere…” You murmur, leaning down, cupping under his jaw to tip it upwards, your mouths fit together, Dream gets eager, chasing your mouth with his when you try to pull away. You laugh, it makes him smile, and things feel as though they’ve been mended again. That night millions all over are no longer subjected to dreams with hail and lighting, but instead replaced with soft clouds and the warm sun poking out after a dwindled storm.

dividers by @strangergraphics

a/n: sorry for lack of fics lately i have been busy preparing for a trip (っ- ‸ - ς)

#.☘︎ ݁˖#dcu #dcu comics #dc comics #dc universe #dream of the endless x reader #dream x reader #dream of the endless #the sandman x reader #the sandman #morpheus x reader #morpheus #the sandman s2

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gaypirate420 · 6 days ago

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Witch Trial// Dream*

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

Summary: The Lord of Dreams has to rescue his witch from her demise at the stake.

A/N: 1675 Morpheus lives in my head rent free. This might be ooc. And it's long and maybe not historically accurate linguistically speaking.

Angst/Fluff. Slow burn? Pun not intended.

1680, London.

Your breath was ragged as you pushed a chair against your door, trying to prevent anyone from getting inside. You heard their whispers earlier, you knew their plans, the village you've been living in for the last two decades has found you out and you will be burned because of your secret.

Your hands are trembling as you brush your hair back, almost too hard, without much thinking you took a leather bag, taking things that you deemed important, you could still flee, make a run for it and live.

Books, diaries, cards and amulets, you wished you could take it all, all the memories but there is no time.

Shivers ran through your back as you heard them, the mob, the shouts, someone must've known you wanted to escape. Your gaze roamed around your home searching for something, anything.

So you knelt.

"Dream Lord." You called to the air, clasping your hands together.

His steps are slow, walking with no rush, clothes blend with the shadows. The Lord of Dreams has heard your callings, he has told you many times that he was not at your beck and call, that he cannot save you for any small inconvenience you come by. And for the most part of the century you've stuck to those rules, if you were so insisting this time it meant trouble.

Leaves crush against his shoes, everything is silent as he opens the door of your home. The raven perched on his shoulder ruffles her feathers, sensing the heavy energy.

His expression doesn't change much, his starry eyes only took into the scene, your home was wrecked, everything you owned was broken and there was no sight of you. His jaw clenched as he saw the small altar you have for him undone and ruined.

"Please, my lord. Please." He could feel your calls at the back of his mind, they were now more desperate, pleading. Jessamy caws at him, catching his attention before she took flight again, guiding him.

"I do not deserve to be put in the pyre!" You shouted, everyone in the trail looking at you. "I am not a follower of satan!"

"You have lived in this village for twenty years, yet you hold no signs of aging and have no children, you look younger than any woman in here, but you are older." The judge says, his gaze is scrutinizing.

"Much more older." The man continued, something was handed to him, a piece of clothing, he stepped closer, you could sense anger but there was fear, everyone in the room was afraid of you to some degree.

"This fell from your blouse one day, is this not you?" He asks as he unfolds the cloth, revealing a small portrait of you, he turns it around, the date in it reads 1568 following with a small legend of your name. One of your lovers was a painter, you remember feeling so cherished when they showed a painting of yourself, now you only feel cold sweat running down your skin.

"That is my grandmother." You said confidently, your chin up and gaze not waving from the judge's. But he did not believe you.

"Your name is in this portrait. You are over a hundred years old." He stated before walking away. "I have never harmed anyone in this village!" You plead with a crack on your voice. The judge turns around, meeting your gaze again.

"You are a temptress, seducing women to do your bidding, making innocent men suffer from the most bizarre dreams after meeting you."

It was true, mostly, the women were pretty, those that were unhappy with their husbands found themselves in your home more often than not. And the men were insufferable, they made you angry with their ignorance, with their attempts at courting you, perhaps one or two suffered your wrath in the form of nightmares. But you were already lectured about that by your patron.

"You shall be burned, return to hell with your master!"

"They will burn her tomorrow." Morpheus said to his sister, who stood in his gallery after being called.

"Humans have done that recently, it is quite a shame." Death spoke softly, a soft sympathetic expression on her face, her brother wasn't pleased, in the slightest, she would dare to say he was angry about your demise. Dream knows your nature as a witch doesn't grant immortality, only longevity, and he doesn't know of any mortal that survived being burned alive.

"She has been working for me for eighty years. I granted her protection in exchange for her loyalty and work. She has not failed me." His star filled eyes looked away.

"She became important to you." Death says with a small smile, leaning her body against a wall. Morpheus let out a small huff, side eying her, instantly, almost burning holes into her.

"I shall keep my word. As she kept hers." He said simply, almost offended at the claim from his sister.

"And how do you plan to do that?" She asked, crossing her arms in front of her chest.

"I have a favor to ask from you, my sister." He stepped closer, his eyes meeting hers.

Everything is a blur. You haven't slept all night, but who would in a dark cold cell. You could hear your heartbeat on your ears, merging with the screams of insults and the occasional rock being thrown at you as they dragged you around the village.

They tie you. You don't understand what the preacher is saying, if he is condemning you or asking God to have mercy on your soul, you cannot concentrate, your eyes look down as the wood piles around you.

"Dream Lord... please, help me." You whispered with trembling lips, you thought of yourself as strong, you cannot help but weep now.

And so it begins, soft crackling cuts your thoughts, the smell of wood burning fills your lungs, the smoke starting to rise and cloud your surroundings. You looked up at the sky before closing your eyes.

Gasping.

Erratic gasping for air, your eyes shoot open, your body trembling frantically as you choke on tears, making you cough, you sit up, hugging yourself.

A soft cawing noise makes you lift your head. The now familiar raven with a white chest hops onto the bed you now realize you're resting in.

"Calm yourself." His voice reverberates through your mind making you jump a bit.

"My- my- mas-ter." You choked out the words.

His fingers found their way to your chin, the touch is gentle, just a small coaxing for you to look at him.

"That was no dream." The dream lord spoke, almost like he could read your mind at the moment. "And yes, you are still alive." He reassured, his tone laced with a discreet softness that wasn't there before. But the lord of dreams wasn't sure you even understood him.

"I burned. I could feel it." You whispered out, trembling slightly at the memory. His fingers lingered for a moment but he caught himself and pulled away, tucking his hands into his pockets "They said some vile things about me." You sniffle.

"Do not let their ignorance harm you further." That was all the comfort he offered before silence fell upon the room.

"Those are yours." Morpheus pointed with his eyes, making you look at the leather bag on the nightstand. He could feel the relief in your expression.

"Thank you, master. I am in your depth." You mumbled out, bowing your head in gratitude, your hands still caressing your own skin in seek of comfort.

"There is no need to thank me. I merely kept my word, so you do not have to give me anything in return." Morpheus said before walking to the door. "I will send someone to fetch you for dinner, in the meantime I suggest you rest." With that he left, leaving you and Jessamy alone, she tilted her head at you before hopping onto your lap, your hand resting on her body as the feeling of her feathers grounded you.

Morpheus closed the door of your room, he walked away, his hand pulling from his pocket, looking down at the small portrait of you for a moment before tucking it back into his coat, keeping it safe, and most important, a secret.

"What a weekend, literally end up dead."- Reader, 1680.

A/N: (Divider 1) (Divider 2) hiiiii, heeeyyyy, we're SO BACK Sandman girlies and theys, omggggggggggg, send requests as always I might take some time to do them. Also I do not support NG, idk if it needs to be said, but now u know.

#the sandman #the sandman netflix #the sandman dream #dream of the endless #dream of the endless x reader #morpheus sandman #lord morpheus #morpheus #lord morpheus x reader #morpheus x reader #the sandman x reader #sandman netflix #sandman x reader

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aphroditelovesu · 5 days ago

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Ugh, my obsession with Sandman is back 😔 sad that it's the last season! So can I request yandere Morpheus with 💔 and 🖤? I think it suits him a lot!!

❝💔❞ - ‘’You can't leave me. You will not leave me.’’

❝🖤❞ - ‘’I don't want to force you to be mine, but I will if I have to.’’

❝tw: kidnapping, yandere behavior and threats.

Maybe it was all his fault.

He knew, he knew from the beginning, that he shouldn't let himself get carried away again, that he shouldn't make the same mistake he had before: falling in love with a mortal. A human. So ephemeral, so fragile, so... You.

Maybe Desire was right after all. Maybe his sibiling knew something that he, proud and stubborn, refused to accept: that love and eternity rarely coexist without pain.

But it was no use. As much as he was the master of many things, as much as he could shape dreams and nightmares with a simple thought, he couldn't contain what blossomed inside him when he looked at you.

It was inevitable. Uncontrollable. A feeling that burned like an ancient fire, the kind that consumes not only the skin but also the soul. It was overwhelming. It was magnificent. It was... Beautiful.

And you...

You didn't want it.

You didn't see what he saw. You didn't feel what he felt. You didn't desire what he had to offer, not his power, not the silent realms at the edge of the Dreaming, not eternity with him. Not even his love.

You rejected him. You refused everything.

But Morpheus had never handled rejection well.

He was too old, too proud, and, above all, too lonely. He had had affairs before — brief, intense loves, and they had all, invariably, ended in ruin. Some, he knew, had been ruined by his fault, by his coldness, by his rigidity. He was not a gentle or a caring creature. Never had been.

Still, he had hoped that with you it would be different.

He had hoped that the sweetness he saw in your smile and the curiosity in your eyes would break the cycle. That you, unlike the others, would choose to stay. You would choose him. But he was wrong.

Once again.

The pain of rejection was something that not even the King of Dreams could dispel with words, nor hide behind silence. And then, one night, while you slept, innocent, vulnerable, dreaming, Morpheus made a decision.

He took you.

He took you to the Dreaming, where everything was made of unspoken thoughts and desires. There, he trapped you in a golden and calm dream, where time did not pass and the body never woke.

You would never open your eyes again in the waking world.

You would stay with him. Forever.

He knew it wasn't right. He, more than anyone, knew what it meant to be trapped. He knew what it was like to be caged, silenced and reduced to a captive. He had spent a hundred years like this, and yet…

Still, Morpheus looked at you sleeping and told himself it was different.

That this was for love.

He loved you. He loved you with the intensity of a thousand storms, with the pain of a thousand centuries of solitude. He wanted to protect you from the world, from the dangers, from the pain of living, and most of all, from the possibility of losing you.

"It's love," He repeated. To himself. To Lucienne. To Matthew. To anyone who dared question him.

"I'm just... Keeping the one I love safe."

Morpheus found you where he had left you: in your quarters in the Dreaming.

The room was filled with silence and soft light, with furniture that seemed carved from ancient memories and scents that came from your childhood memories, lavender, old paper, and damp earth. Everything there was shaped to be familiar, to comfort you. To sustain you.

You had freedom.

You could roam the Dreaming as you pleased. The hanging gardens, the endless corridors of glass and mist, the islands floating in constellation-filled skies, all were yours. Everything was within your reach.

But deep down, Morpheus knew it wasn't freedom.

It was a gilded enclosure.

Because there was nowhere to run.

The Dreaming is him. And he is the Dreaming.

Even if you ran, hid, or kept quiet... He would always know where you were. Where would you go. What did you dream about that night. It was the price of living in a world woven from the mind of someone who loves you dearly, or at least believes they do.

And there you were.

Beautiful. Ethereal.

His.

Sitting peacefully on your bed, your legs curled up on the side and your eyes focused on a book you'd checked out from the library.

"Are you enjoying the reading?" Morpheus asked, his voice echoing softly.

You didn't answer right away.

There was no need. The silence between you was full enough.

He took a few steps closer, but kept his distance. He always did. Not out of respect. But out of fear. Fear that if he touched you, even in your dreams... You would hate him. He didn't want you to hate him, that much he knew.

"I brought this book to you when I noticed you dreaming about it, weeks ago." He said calmly. "A lost edition. Never published in the waking world. But I kept it. For moments like this."

You just turned another page. Slowly. Precisely. Impeccably. Ignoring him completely.

He took a deep breath. Or at least something close to it.

"I want you to be happy here," Morpheus continued, almost pleading — which is ridiculous because he doesn't plead — though his voice remained firm. "I want this place to be a home. I want to be... Something good for you."

But the Dreaming trembled, for a brief second, as if it knew the truth he was trying to hide even from himself.

You weren't happy.

And he... Wasn't good for you. But he refused to accept that.

You finally looked at him.

And in that instant, an instant that felt eternal, what Morpheus saw in your eyes struck him like no sword ever could. There was anguish there. Fear. But also something even worse: a silent, restrained, aching fury.

You didn't cry. You didn't beg. You didn't scream.

You spoke clearly. With harshness. With cutting honesty.

"I want to leave here. I want to return to the waking world." You said, each word like a thin knife piercing straight to his core. "If you want me to be happy, send me back!"

The room fell silent.

Morpheus just stared at you. His eyes were as black as the void between the stars, as cold as the absence of sound in a vacuum. On the outside, he was expressionless. Motionless. A living statue of everything he refused to feel.

But outside… The sky of the Dreaming reacted.

The sky was beginning to darken, clouds laden with rain and lightning danced in a possible and devastating storm, a mirror of Morpheus's negative emotions.

The kingdom felt what he felt.

And then, he spoke. Slowly. With a calm that sounded almost like a threat.

"You can't leave me." He paused. "You won't leave me."

"I don't want to force you to be mine…" Morpheus began, his voice low, almost a whisper that seemed to reverberate in every corner of that room that was also a disguised prison. "But I will, if I have to."

The words came out with the coldness of a sentence. There was no scream, no visible anger. Only the shadow of something deeper, more ancient, an uncontrollable need to hold on to what he loves, even at the cost of the other's freedom.

Morpheus walked to the exit of his chambers, but stopped to look at you, turning his head slightly.

"I will give you some time alone to consider my words."

It was not a choice, not an option but an ultimatum.

#Sandman #yandere x reader #x reader #morpheus x reader #sandman x reader #dream of the endless x reader #yandere sandman #yandere morpheus #yandere dream of the endless #dark!sandman #dark!morpheus #emoji prompt #yandere Morpheus x reader #yandere sandman x reader #yandere dream of the endless x reader #yandere imagine #yandere au #dark au

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pacifistsworstnightmare · 11 days ago

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ARMS UNFOLDING — teacher!shota aizawa

sticky fingers and ink stains, sweet notes in bento boxes and sleepy gradings at the dinner table. different schools and married life <3

a/n : my head hurts so bad guys but i persevered. for you

m.list !

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birdofwildness · 12 days ago

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⋆°·☁︎Dreambound part 1

⋆°·☁︎Morpheus x underworld princess!reader

Summary::Morpheus mourns his son.But grief has a price, and the gods of the Underworld have come to collect.Now you’re both stuck in a marriage.

Warnings:: grief, arranged marriage,mentions of blood,parent-child trauma,the reader will be a bit of a brat sometimes-so she may be a bit unlikeable-but she's the daughter of Hades so...

He had known, somewhere deep in the hollows of his being, that it might come to this. Still, the knowing did nothing to soften the blade.

Morpheus had taken the life of his own son.

Not out of wrath, nor pride, but out of something colder, older, and infinitely more painful — mercy. Orpheus had lingered for centuries, a severed head whispering through time, suspended in a half-life that had long ceased to resemble anything sacred. There was no peace in such existence. No dignity. No glory in this.Only endless echoes of a song that had long since faded from the world.

And so, the father did what no father should ever have to do. He ended it.

Now, the Dreaming felt quieter than it had in millennia. Not peaceful — merely hollow. The silence was not the gentle stillness of slumber, but the void left behind by absence. A kind of silence that throbbed.

He had imagined, foolishly, that he might feel relief. That, in releasing Orpheus, he might also release himself. But the absence cut sharper than the guilt. He had never truly conceived of an eternity without his son — and now that eternity was all that remained.

He was a king, a cosmic force, a sovereign of stories and sleep.

And still, he mourned like a man.

When he reached his chamber, he didn’t quite know what he sought. A fleeting refuge, a moment of respite from the storm raging inside him. Yet his hands trembled still, stained with a dark warmth — the blood of his son, lingering stubbornly on his skin, as if an invisible chain bound them.

He approached the basin where water glimmered faintly under the Dreaming’s pale light. Leaning over, he let the cold liquid curl around his fingers. The first touch was shockingly frigid, sharp and cruel — yet somehow liberating. He tried to wash away the blood, the memories, the crushing guilt. But the more he scrubbed, the more he felt himself dissolve, as if his very being began to blur and wash away with the swirling currents.

His reflection stared back at him from the mirror — a face barely recognizable. No longer the sovereign of dreams, but a man consumed by grief and solitude. In his eyes burned no royal fire, only an endless mourning and the ache of a void that no eternity could fill. Storm clouds gathered behind his thoughts, fierce and relentless — shadows flickering, as if death itself had settled within his soul.

He tried to steady himself, to summon strength, but the weight of pain was suffocating. As the water wrapped around his hands, so did despair coil tightly around his heart. The king who had shaped dreams, who had ruled over all slumber, was fragile now — a child undone by the loss of his world.

And then came the breath — soft, trembling — a sigh that cracked open into a broken, aching sob. A grief held back for centuries spilled free at last. No more masks. No more pretending. No more hiding the unbearable hurt.

There, beside the cold basin, with blood still staining his hands, Morpheus let go of his armor and stood naked in sorrow — a father who had lost his son.

For a long while, Morpheus remained there — his shoulders shaking in quiet sobs, the weight of centuries of grief breaking through the kingly façade. No one would see this moment; no realm but his own bore witness to such raw vulnerability. The tears fell freely now, unburdening a heart that had been locked tight for too long.

Slowly, the sobs quieted. He wiped his eyes with the back of a trembling hand and looked once more into the water — still rippling softly in the basin. He knew this mourning would never fully end, but he forced himself to rise, to gather the scattered pieces of his fractured soul. For now, he would hold the line.

...

The morning light filtered softly through the ever-shifting veils of the Dreaming, casting gentle shadows that danced like whispers across the vast expanse of Morpheus’s realm. The air was thick with the lingering silence of yesterday’s grief, yet the world itself carried on — dreams waited to be woven, stories begged to be told.

In the heart of his domain, Morpheus stood before his sprawling, ethereal desk — a surface alive with shimmering strands of unfinished dreams, fragments of forgotten memories, and the faint glow of restless thoughts. His fingers traced absentmindedly over the intricate patterns as he tried to focus, to anchor himself in the weight of responsibility that refused to waver, no matter the storm within.

A soft, deliberate knock at the doorframe broke the quiet. Lucienne stepped inside, her presence calm but tinged with urgency. Her usual composed gaze flickered briefly, betraying a tension she seldom showed.

“My lord,” she said quietly, “the envoys from the Underworld have arrived in the courtyard. They come bearing a message from Hades and Persephone.”

Morpheus’s eyes lifted from the glowing threads beneath his fingertips. The shadows around his gaze deepened, and a flicker of old, unresolved pain passed over his face.

“The Underworld,” he murmured, as if tasting the word with bitter memory. “After all that has happened... what do they want now?”

Lucienne met his gaze steadily. “They seek an audience with you, bearing word from their rulers. Their message concerns your recent actions — and the delicate balance between our realms.”

Morpheus exhaled slowly, the sound like wind stirring dry leaves. His voice remained calm and measured, but beneath the surface, his heart quickened, sensing the tightening noose of consequence and diplomacy.

“Very well,” he said, voice steady but heavy. “Send them in. I will hear what the envoys of the Underworld have to say.”

Lucienne bowed, then turned and left without another word. A long, humming silence followed, as if the Dreaming itself grew still in anticipation.

The great doors creaked open moments later — They entered side by side.

First came Minos — tall, solemn, draped in bronze and black. His presence was gravity itself, as if the weight of law walked on two feet. Ancient patterns marked his cloak: spirals, labyrinths, and scales of judgment. His eyes were dim, but focused.

Beside him moved Mormo. Her form was less tangible — trailing robes of shadow, face half-obscured by a dark veil that shimmered like smoke on water. Whispers seemed to ripple around her, though no lips moved. Wherever she stepped, the air turned colder, dreamstuff curled away.

They approached the base of the throne, and stopped in perfect synchrony.

Minos inclined his head, not quite a bow. “Dream of the Endless. King of Dreams. We come bearing the will of the Dead.”

“Then speak it.” spoke the sovereign.

“The death of your son, Orpheus, has been felt in more realms than one. His sentence long delayed, his pain long endured. But his death… has torn open questions.” he continued.

“Justice was served,” Morpheus answered, voice low. “In the only way it could be.”

Mormo stirred slightly, the faintest hum trailing her voice. “Perhaps. But our monarchs do think differently, Your majesty. Orpheus has disturbed their peace the moment he arrived. Disturbed the kingdom. Made the furies weep.And lastly he didn't trust the will of gods and turned towards the light,losing his lover forever.”

Morpheus stood unmoving.His eyes, fathomless as the void, remained fixed on Mormo—but something behind them shifted. A flicker of grief.

“And so they demand... what? Recompense? A symbolic sacrifice?”

“They demand balance. You, Dream of the Endless, fractured the natural order by killing him. That crack cannot remain unsealed.” spoke Minos.

Morpheus’ voice darkened. “I gave my son peace. A well deserved peace after everything.”

Mormo replied softly, “We understand your suffering. However it was a peace he did not deserve,even centuries of suffering”

She let the words sink in then continued.“Orpheus denied divine will. He brought chaos to the gates of the dead. Mercy… cannot erase rebellion.”

Morpheus didn’t flinch. But his silence thickened.His presence was vast, but still.

Minos took one step forward, his voice even and absolute.“There must be balance. The underworld does not seek vengeance, Dreamlord. But the scales must be realigned.”

“How?” Morpheus asked. The word was low, but it rang through the chamber.

“Through union. A bond between realms.” answered the envoy.

Morpheus turned slowly. “You speak of a pact.”

“A marriage.” added Mormo.“Their Majesties—Hades and Persephone—have chosen their only living daughter. She will be sent to you in three days. You will wed her under the laws of old.”

Morpheus's eyes narrowed. Shadows bent subtly toward him, pulled by thought alone.“And if I refuse?”

“Then the Dreaming shall fall under sanction. Death will leak into your realm." threatened Minos.

“And should the Dreaming begin to die… the waking world shall follow.” added Mormo.

The words hung in the air.Finally, Morpheus looked up, voice colder than the stars.“I do not agree with this judgment. But I understand it.”

Minos inclined his head. “Three days, Dream of the Endless.”

With that, they turned — and the moment they crossed the threshold, the light in the chamber returned, subtly warmer, as though the Dreaming itself exhaled once the shadows were gone.But Morpheus remained still.

The silence settled around him.The echo of the Underworld envoys’ words lingered in the chamber.They had left, and yet their decree still pulsed in the air.

A marriage.A binding union to ensure cosmic balance.

He had seen empires fall, lovers fade, and even hope crack like glass beneath his heel. And now, after all he had lost—his son, his purpose, the fragile belief that he could remain untouched by the chaos of gods—they would dare to shackle him to diplomacy disguised as devotion.

His jaw tightened. His hands were still, clasped behind him, but his mind stirred.

Did they think he would refuse? That he would rise in fury and tear through the pact with pride alone? They knew him too well—or not at all. Dream had never been one to act rashly, not even when the pain was fresh.

This was not about love. Nor even about alliance.This was penance—his, Orpheus’, the world’s.And peace, fragile and conditional, was a price worth more than his own discomfort.

Still, he could not help the bitter taste in his throat. The very idea of a stranger—gods, a daughter of Hades—bound to him not by choice, but decree.It went against everything he once believed love could be.

He lifted his gaze to the stained-glass skylight above, the light fracturing against the dream-sky.And still, the Dreaming listened—always.It, too, did not yet know what to make of this new thread in its master's fate.

...

You had heard many ridiculous things in your life — a river that sings, a man made of bees, a talking skull with a god complex — but this?

This was a new kind of absurd.

You stared at the messenger as if they’d grown a second head. Or maybe a third. Hades did have some eccentric staff.

“So let me get this straight,” you said, voice calm, dangerously calm — the kind of calm that made rivers hesitate to ripple. “My parents are marrying me off to the Lord of Dreams... because his dead son made too much noise on his way down?”

The silence that followed was telling. No one corrected you.

You raised a brow. “Right. Just making sure I didn’t mishear ‘diplomatic union’ for ‘cosmic guilt sacrifice.’ Happens all the time.”

You turned away from the dim corridor, folding your arms as your back hit the cold obsidian wall behind you. The Underworld always had a flair for the dramatic, but even this felt excessive.

Marriage. To someone you’d never met.To someone known more for silence than warmth.To someone whose very name carried the weight of endless sleep.

"Let me guess," you muttered to no one in particular. "Tall, brooding, emotionally unavailable. Sounds like a dream."

You hated being told what to do. You hated obedience, most of all when it was dressed up as duty.

And yet... this wasn’t just about you. It was about the realms, about balance, about ancient pacts and older wounds. You knew the rules. You’d played this game before. You could play it again.

You had known your whole life that love was a currency. Loyalty a contract. And freedom? A luxury reserved for the powerful.But still… a part of you had hoped that maybe, just once, you’d get to choose.

But here you were—another piece in someone else’s game. A bargaining chip between gods and kings.

You straightened slowly, letting out a long breath.The mask slid back into place with ease.

You pushed off the wall and walked away.Head held high.Smile sharp enough to cut a god.

#the sandman #dream of the endless #morpheus #morpheus x reader #dream of the endless x reader #sandman x reader #sandman season 2 #dividers by enchanthings #enchanthings

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dreamingofcalliope · 2 months ago

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𝖙𝖍𝖊 𝖉𝖗𝖊𝖆𝖒 𝖌𝖚𝖆𝖗𝖉 {𝖈𝖍𝖆𝖕𝖙𝖊𝖗 𝖔𝖓𝖊}

When a woman sets him free at the cost of her own life, Dream vows to honour her sacrifice and lay her to rest in the Dreaming, once it is restored... only things don’t quite go to plan when she reawakens unexpectedly.

Pairing: Morpheus x Reader (no y/n used)

Warnings: graphic violence, blood, angst, major character death. basically all the same nasty stuff that happened in the first episode.

A/N: not me showing up suuper late with starbucks but heeeeey gurl! yes this was jumpstarted by the old guard 2 release announcement and i have finally gotten a chapter done for all you lovely patient people! its longer than i originally planned as an apology and thanks for waiting, so lets hope the roll continues even though i have no idea where i'm going with this lol enjoy!

Gif made by me!

The first shot split the air with a crack, even amidst the sound of shouting, and the splatter of red across the glass of his prison was uncomfortably familiar to Morpheus.

His heart had not been inclined to hope for help since he had lost Jessamy, and though it still did not now, the similarity of the moment his loyal servant had been struck down was an uncomfortable weight.

The second took the woman to her knees, in a pose not unlike those who supplicated before him in the past, his subjects, in search of an audience with the King of Dreams and Nightmares, while her hand clutched at the new wound spilling red down the front of her body. Her eyes held his gaze, as it had since she’d found her way into the basement a few minutes earlier, and with the weight of resignation in his throat, Morpheus accepted he would now bear witness to another passing.

Yet it was not shock he found in her features, surprise at a life cut short, rather she seemed… focused; on living, he supposed even as she pitched forward like a puppet whose strings had been cut, until she reached for the binding circle beneath his cage. He dared not look too long, to linger on the markings that had helped keep him prisoner all this time, even now as she reached for them, but the hope bloomed in his chest heedless of the cost of the act.

The woman would die here, of that he held no doubt, yet that seed of hope sprouted that perhaps her sacrifice would not be completely in vain. In fact he swore it.

If she were to set him free, he would see that sacrifice honoured.

Another shot came, he unconsciously echoed the flinch she gave but she did not falter. With her own blood coating her hand, and, he suspected, what little strength she had remaining, she swept across the markings; distorting the edges enough to destroy the power they contained. As he watched her head fall and the light die in her eyes, for the first time in over a century, his power spilled beyond the edges of his prison.

Like a limb tight from disuse, he stretched his influence towards the guard whose gun was still raised. A push and more shots came, this time at the barrier separating them and finally it gave way, shattering under the joint pressure.

He was free.

Once the guards were taken care of, and his jailers sufficiently punished, Morpheus approached the still form of his saviour. With gentle hands, he gathered her close and stood, escape and his promise at the forefront of his mind; he would not leave her body at the mercy of the Burgess family. A mixture of emotions, gratitude, sorrow, anger, relief, all warred inside him as he turned towards the portal that would finally carry them home.

- - - -

“Sir! Sir!”

The landing was harder than he expected, but he held tight to the body in his arms, cushioning the fall with his own though he knew she was beyond feeling it. Footsteps and hands reached for him, turned him and he blinked up into the familiar face of-

“It’s me. It’s Lucienne.”

“Lucienne..” the familiar smile on his librarian’s face to his weak response was comforting and he reached for Lucienne’s hand, scarcely able to believe that, after so long, he was, indeed, home. The relief and joy gave way to confusion as he watched Lucienne’s eyes take in that her Lord was not alone in his return. With her help, he managed to stand while cradling his companion and soon the gates to his realm stood tall ahead, just as he had left them. The gates responded to his familiar touch and the feeling of coming home was so strong that it threatened to drown him.

Lucienne’s warning did little to soften the blow of seeing his realm darkened… destroyed… decaying right before his eyes. He knew damage had been done to the waking world in his absence, but to know it extended here too…

His concern was not only for his realm but those who resided within it. If the Dreaming had suffered so in his absence, then what of his creations? The dreams and nightmares that were constructs of his will? The staff he had promised protection and safety to, once upon a time? But the pain of seeing the state of his realm compared little to the hurt of Lucienne revealing many had simply believed he would so readily abandon them.

Some had sought him out, yet none had succeeded; that thought drew his attention back to the woman in his arms and his devastation gave way to determination. He would fix what had been wrought in his absence and restore order to both realms, as was his duty.

“I made this realm once, Lucienne. I will make it again.”

- - - -

His palace lay in shambles, colour having leached from its very existence, the sky above his throne dark despite the twinkling of stars and, with each account Lucienne gave, his devastation was torn all the wider. And yet, she remained, steadfast in the belief that he would return and that he had not abandoned them. Her loyalty inspired admiration and gratitude in him, a vindication of the choice he’d made long ago to take her in as a member of his staff. He made a note to reward her for her loyalty and her attempts to protect the Dreaming in his absence, even as he approached what remained of the steps to his throne.

It was the only surface still relatively intact and not covered in debris; the only place he could lay down his saviour safely.

“My lord…” the librarian trailed off hesitantly, as if still deciding how to phrase her question before settling and he turned in time to see her spine straighten as if to brace herself. “While I am glad to have you return to us, I cannot help noticing you have not done so alone.” The pointed look at the woman now behind him felt a little unnecessary, who else would Lucienne be referring to, but he was surprised her curiosity had been held at bay this long. Then again, they’d had other matters to discuss.

“At the cost of her own life, this woman released me from my imprisonment,” he began. “I brought her here to honour that sacrifice. To lay her to rest under the guardianship of Fiddler’s Green. In peace…” the dream lord trailed off, sadness and disappointment etched into the marble of his features as he glanced at the body laying atop the makeshift altar. A decaying wasteland was not the deserved resting place of one to whom he owed so much.

Lucienne was quiet for a few moments, obviously considering this revelation before the librarian nodded solemnly. “Fiddler’s Green is no longer in the Dreaming,” she announced and he resisted the urge to flinch. One of his most loyal and beloved creations, he had not expected Fiddler’s Green’s absence but once the Dreaming was restored, he had faith they would all return. Well, those who still held some loyalty would, he concluded, his mind returning to the reason he had left the Dreaming in the first place. The Corinthian would need to be dealt with also but the Dreaming had to come first.

With that thought in mind, he reached out with what power remained within and attempted to reshape the room in which they stood. To his dismay, it was so scant and brittle; his control shattered within moments and with the falling of debris, so too did the Dream Lord. It became painfully apparent to them both that until he had his tools, his power would not be fully restored.

Which meant he would need to discover the fate of his tools after their theft. The Fates would know, loathe as he was to admit it. He could not restore his realm, not even this very room. He would not have the power to summon them and asking his siblings was out of the question, as he told Lucienne. His knowledgeable librarian however had an answer for his next question; a creation of his that remained whole and he stood from his perch upon the stairs.

“Then let us go-”

The pained groan that came from behind suddenly cut off his statement, louder in the destroyed throne room for its unexpectedness, and both the King and Librarian swivelled abruptly to seek out the source. Impossibly, it came from where it should not have; the woman lying in still reverence upon the stairs.

Only… she was not still now.

- - - -

As it tended to happen when she woke, the first thing she knew was pain.

Dying did tend to be a painful affair, so that wasn’t completely shocking. She hadn’t had a peaceful one as of yet in all honesty but that didn’t make the experience any more fun. Bullets particularly sucked because sometimes she gained awareness before they’d finished working their way out of her body, like now, and so there was little she could do except grit her teeth and wait for the burning to end.

This one was particularly bad; it must have lodged into bone or something and despite her instincts, and knowing better, she groaned aloud as the bullet finally worked itself free of her flesh. With a deep inhale, her eyes opened to look upon… the night sky? No… those were ruins around her and for a moment she wondered if the person she’d set free had destroyed their prison as punishment; she wouldn’t have blamed them if they had.

The crunch of glass under foot grabbed her attention and she jerked upright on instinct; unfamiliar surroundings and the vulnerability of not being alone during her reawakening caused her adrenaline to kick in sharply. She immediately reached for the knife usually stowed on her thigh before recalling she’d put the habit aside while infiltrating the Burgess estate so as not to arouse suspicion. A gardener with a knife holstered on their leg was not exactly typical.

Now she mourned the loss as she angled her body defensively towards the threat.

It took a moment for recognition to wash over her at the sight of the man she’d set free, but then he’d been naked at the time and now he wasn’t and… well she figured she could be forgiven for needing a second to reconcile the two appearances into one. At least her attempt to free him had been successful.

His surprise was subtle, compared to that of his companion as she finally realised they weren’t alone anymore, but this one wasn’t dressed in the uniform of the guards who’d killed her.

“You live.”

During her spontaneous rescue attempt he hadn’t spoken a single word. Of that she was sure because her first thought upon hearing that deep, silky tone was that she would definitely have remembered hearing it, even while dying. In reality she knew nothing of this man before her, save that he’d been imprisoned, and perhaps it had been for some good reason not apparent to her, however nothing deserved to be kept in a cage as he had.

“Yes,” she replied simply. Any hope that her resurrection may have gone unnoticed and dismissed as a simple mistake was lost in that moment so she might as well admit it. She expected the question from him but instead it came from his offsider and she glanced for a moment at them before her eyes returned to the man… being before her.

“How?”

“Just lucky I guess,” was her glib answer even as his eyes pierced her, obviously seeking and she had never felt so studied before in her admittedly long life. He exuded a quiet power that was both seductive and terrifying, as if with the same look he coaxed her closer and warned her away and were she mortal, her body would no doubt have been torn between the two feelings. Instead she simply raised her chin, in dual defiance and daring and even having only met this man moments ago, she thought she saw a flicker of amusement in the depths of those pale eyes at her reaction.

“You are one of the deathless.” That voice came again, flowing and suffused, she thought, with a combination of pleasure at his own cleverness and surprise at the information.

It was a name she had not heard used in a very long time, and it momentarily jolted her back through flames and blood and chants of witchcraft, a distance overtaking her gaze that, unbeknownst to her, was not lost on her companions.

“I’ve been called that once or twice,” she said finally, hesitantly as though she still possessed a secret to keep. “And what do they call you? Tall, dark and brooding?” It was a weak attempt at humour, at changing the subject and focus onto something not her miraculous resurrection and return to the living.

“He is Lord Morpheus. Dream of the Endless. Lord of the Dreaming. King of Dreams and Nightmares,” the… well this one was probably a valet or something if he was supposed to be a king or lord or whatever, rattled off and a snort escaped her before she could stop it.

“Let me guess. He’s also an aquarius and likes long walks on the beach?”

They looked at her with a combination of annoyance and confusion, and she figured her joke hadn’t been appreciated. “Okay, Lord Morpheus,” with a hum, she continued, the title dripping with as much reverence as she was capable of, which wasn’t very much in all honesty. “I’m glad to see you’re out and about. I wasn’t sure if breaking that circle would be enough, magic can be fickle like that," she shrugged, glancing around at the ruins they stood within. The changing dark sky above and the light shining in the windows were her first clue this wasn't the Burgess house torn asunder, and for a moment she wondered where the Dream Lord had spirited them off to.

Nowhere ordinary, she’d be willing to bet; an Endless kept in a cage for who knew how long, but whether this was some dream realm or a very fancy basement of his own, she wasn’t inclined to stay. Setting the Dream Lord loose hadn’t been on her agenda and the reason she infiltrated the Burgess mansion still remained. “But you’re as good as new and I have places to be so, if you’ll excuse me,” she sidestepped the dark figure and was greeted by even more ruins

“You can’t leave.” The valet spoke again and she resisted the urge to roll her eyes.

“I really-”

“I owe you a debt.” Morpheus spoke, cutting off her response and it felt final, absolute, as if it explained why she couldn’t go and really there would no doubt be benefits to having one of the Endless owe her, but that also felt like it would come with a lot of problems and attention she was disinclined to invite into her life as it currently stood.

“It's ok really. Consider it my act of charity for the year. We’re square. Now if you could just show me out, I’ll be on my way.”

“You cannot leave.”

- - - -

Tag list (if I missed anyone apologies, it's been a while);

@ladymoon666 @carrietrekkie @forwheat-is-wheat @intothesoul @boofy1998 @ponyboys-sunsets @adishax @minicoop12 @solinarimoon @guilteapleasures

#netflix the sandman #morpheus x reader #morpheus x fem!reader #dream of the endless x reader #the dream guard #the sandman imagine

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hey-iam-fire-ghost-but-i-write · 29 days ago

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the morning bliss he brings

Lord Morpheus x Fem!Reader

not my gif, credits to the owner.

English is not my first language, sorry for the mistakes but be nice about it!

Summary: Dream Lord guards your dreams in hope of finding himself in them.

Warnings: literally none? this ones just sweet and fluff and a tiny itsy bitsy angsty? dunno.

Word Count: 2.5K

Waking up in the morning was always the hardest part of your day. It was like fighting the need of never leaving your dreams, those perfect places made out of your hopes and wishes. Always drunk in the bliss of resting in a place where your worries wouldn’t chase you.

Slowly —almost sweetly— the chirping birds and the bright sunrays covered your senses coaxing you to come back to the waking world. It always welcomed you with it's warm embrace that never failed to make you feel goosebumps.

But this morning wasn’t just the sun you woke up to.

He looked just like a dream, which was understandable since that was one of his many names.

You love calling him that, Dream. It was the first name of his that he gave you and the one that rolled the sweetest on your tongue.

Morpheus was currently sitting on your armchair, in front of the coffee table. An open book was lying on his lap, probably from your own bookshelf. His eyes were closed and he had his fingers intertwined under his chin.

He definitely knew you were awake, but refused to acknowledge it. Too focused in whatever thought he was stressing himself out with.

You sighed, sleepily still. Rubbing your eyes, you convinced yourself that getting out of the couch was the least of your priorities at the moment. Not when everything around you was designed to make you feel embraced and supported in warmth.

Looking back at your Dream, you smiled. And just when you were about to call for him out loud, someone beat you at talking.

“He’s been like that for ages” you jump a little, taken by surprise by Matthews’ voice sounding too close to you. You turned your head towards him “Not sure what he’s thinking about, though” the black raven, loyal companion of Morpheus, was perched on the back of the same couch you slept the whole night on.

“Probably in that he has to go and feed the birds at the park” you flash a smile to your singular friend, who gave you a way too human-like scoff.

“Please, he doesn’t even feed me” you huff a small laugh at the raven’s joke.

“Perhaps if you didn’t criticize every step I take, you would actually have time to put food in your beak”

Matthew jumped down to rest on your side, his small claws squeezing the skin of your hip softly two times— calling for your attention at his next jab “Someone can’t take a joke” the raven whispered looking at you, only to then turn towards his master “I shall go to the kitchen to press more buttons, my Lord, but this time the coffee machine’s ones” and with that overly played impression of Morpheus’ accent, the bird took flight disappearing in the kitchen in matter of seconds.

You looked at Morpheus with a smile. He was still with his eyes closed “You shouldn’t have taught him that” he said, his words dragging lazily.

You chuckle sweetly, remembering how at the beginning of the week Matthew learnt how to operate the coffee machine without breaking it in the process. Morpheus watched the two of you in silence, knowing better than anyone that your little shenanigans consisted in a ten percent of the goal of learning a new skill and ninety percent in annoying him. It was the way you and his raven bonded: the amusement you both got out of making Morpheus grumpier than usual.

Now, Matthew insisted every morning to make you coffee and you didn’t have the heart to deny the overly sugared mug.

You closed your eyes, snuggling even further under the covers “Good morning, Dream”.

When you opened your eyes, he was already looking at you “Good morning” he said with a voice deeper that the ocean you were dreaming about a few minutes ago.

The sun, entering from your window, bathed the whole apartment in a beautiful light. Morpheus, in the center of the scene, looked glorious. Godly like. The warm rays bathing all his features and making him look soft in all the right places.

“I can tell it was a good night sleep”

Your sweet smile turned into an amused one “When I ask for your help to sleep, you didn’t have to watch over me the whole night”

“How else am I going to make sure you’re sleeping well?” he inquired, a small smirk pulling at the corner of his lips.

Cheeky little god.

You raised an eyebrow “You are the king of the Dreaming, sweetheart”

The corners of his lips pulled totally upwards thanks to the nickname you gave him “With you, it’s not enough” his voice was hushed, a murmur that lulled you into an incredibly flustered state in the most delicious way.

You sighed, trusting that with your eyes closed it wouldn't sound too dreamily “You still can’t find me in there?”

“We’re not sure where you go when you sleep, that is the reason why I need to keep an eye on you for now”

“How is that even possible?”

“Well, you do have the same magic I use to nourish the Dreaming inside of you” he explained “It’s not hard to hypothesize that the reason we don’t find you back home is because you simply don’t want us to”

You nod slowly, wanting to agree with him. You came from a long bloodline filled with magic. Your power was a gift from Dream to one of your ancestors and those same powers bled down your family line for centuries. When you met him, it was the first time someone of your own saw him after a really long time.

At first, he came to you for your magic. Needed it back to retrieve his stolen amulets, the ones he lost to the pretender Roderick Burgess. And when instead of giving him your gifts, you offered him your help… he was intrigued to see firsthand what his powers could give to a simple mortal like you.

But that was a long time ago, when you still wouldn’t call each other a friend and the only worry between the both of you was the possibility of losing your power to the other.

“So, why?” he questioned. You open your eyes to look at him confused, then he insists “Why don’t you want us to find you in there?”

You frowned, dropping your smile “Dream. If I knew I would’ve corrected it already, don’t you think?”

“No nightmares, no bad dreams, only happiness” the man recalled your first conversation on the matter, not even stopping to listen to your point “And you don’t let any other entity to get closer to your mind but me”

"You just said you could not find me in there" because it sounded like he was getting at a dangerous point, an overwhelming conclusion.

"It's not the only way you shared your mind with me" Morpheus explained his point "When you offered your magic to help my cause, you had to let me in. Why are you keeping me out now?"

You sat on your sofa, the warm cover falling to your lap. You tried to ignore the implication of his concerns: it wasn't the fact that a dream or a nightmare could not reach your mind, it was that himself could not cradle it with his own intentions.

"I'm not doing it on porpuse" you defended yourself.

"But that's the only explanation I can offer you" he stood up and got impossibly close to you. You had to tip your head up to look into his eyes that were looking down to yours. You were filled with surprise when you saw a bit of hesitation on his features.

"What are you thinking about?" you whisper softly, worried about him pondering himself into misery.

"You are casting me out"

The accusation almost makes you jump from your seat "I am not" you shake your head side to side.

"You're keeping your mind beyond my reach, you've been doing it this whole time" he interrupted you before you could defend yourself again "On purpose or not and you're doing it because there's something you don't want me to see"

"Why are you taking this so personal?" you insist, a bit desperate.

"Because the alternative is that you're keeping an endless out of your mind— because there's something in there you don't want a cosmic entity to see" his cold tone stole your breath away "Which is the most dangerous and threatening thing you could do against someone of my kinship"

You stay in silence for a few seconds "I'm not keeping anything away from you"

"You're keeping yourself away from me" he whispered, mindlessly and filled with disappointment.

"I'm right here" you whispered, distraught "I don't understand this accusation—"

"What are you dreaming about?" hard. Unbending.

"I—" you felt tears welling up in your eyes "I told you" you croak out, standing up and circling him "I need to see what Matthew's doing"

"I forced Matthew back into the Dreaming— I need to understand what are you doing. We need to discuss this. What are you dreaming about?" he demanded. you gave your back to him.

"I told you about it, Dream" you voice was a plea "It's always something nice, something that makes me feel just right. Tonight it was the ocean. Blue and dark and—"

And you— you thought to yourself. So awfully and beautifully you.

You face him, not finding a safe haven from his questioning.

"I do not understand it" he insists "And I need to understand you, before the alternative becomes unbearable to ignore"

You adverted your eyes from him, looking out your window. A tear rolled down your face and you dry it quickly before he accused you of using them against him.

"You accuse me of casting you out" you tried to hide a sob "You believe in the good in this world, and yet that's not what you think me out to be"

"This is not a matter I'm bringing to you lightly" he insists, stepping closer with urgency.

You cross your arms, just to hold yourself for a moment and then you smile sadly at him.

"I can't believe this morning started feeling like one of my dreams and now it's turning into this nightmare" you tilt your head to the side, a tear rolling straight to your earlobe.

Morpheus stayed in silence, looking intently at you for a few seconds.

Suddenly, realization brightened up his face.

"Why did you feel the need to keep this from me?"

"I didn't even know I was keeping this away from you until Lucienne made me list my dreams to her" you whispered "I suppose some part of me thought that one glance to my dreams and you would understand"

"Show me"

"Dream" you begged "Why do you wish to humiliate me like this?"

"I need to know" he got closer to you in an instant, so suddenly that he took your breath away "Share your mind with me again"

You look up at him, eyes bluer than any sky you could imagine— more inviting than any waters you could dream of.

And if you didn't know any better, you would think that was a plea.

"If I do that, my mind won't be the only thing I would be sharing with you" you breath out, feeling a bit helpless.

"What is the wrong in that"

You looked intently into his eyes.

He looked away from you, turning his face to your window "Admidts of a confession and you're still keeping your love away from me"

"I'm keeping my heart" you almost need to sob "I don't want to expose it just because you need something to be proven"

He turned his face to you again "I believe in you, I don't need anything to be proven to me"

"Then why are you demanding my mind?"

"Because it's the only way I get to protect my heart"

Somehow that took your breath away in an instant.

And without even attempting to, you allow a wave of your ocean crawl onto his shore as you feel his hands cupping your jaw. Eyes closed, breathing jagged and tears feeding his hunger.

Your mind opens up, and your heart bursts into emotion as soon as your feet touch the evergreen grass of the Dreaming— summer breeze caressing your skin and sunshine hitting against your closed eyelids.

As your eyes open, he´s standing tall in front of you still. Dark and glistening, eyes of deep gold and fire burning at the hem of his black tunic.

And just as it began, you force yourself to wake up.

Back home, back in your apartment.

You need to take a step back, but he doesn´t let you get far as he smirks widely at you.

Cheeky little god.

"Cheating darling girl, you barely showed yourself" he cups your jaw securely once again, face contorting around amusement as you let a smile creep in too.

"I've shown enough" you counterpart, a bubble of giddiness about to explode in your inside.

He contemplates you in silence, eyes traveling around your face "I will see all of it—" he warns "—even if I have to take it out of you caress after caress-"

"Dream Lord" you warn, the formality foreign in your tongue.

"Lady enchantress" he warns as well, playful and too close to happiness for you to stand on your offense for long.

You look around his face, shaking your head as your nose bumps against his "I can't dare to dream about you anymore"

Dream stands in silence at that, "In counterpart, you'll find a piece of you all around the fabric of my Dreaming—" he rasps, forehead nudging against yours "Inspiration used to be something I gave away, now I´m tempted to keep it all to myself"

"Mellow and needy" you accuse him.

"All the more reason for you to stop casting my love away" he demands softly, almost as a plead.

"In exchange I would demand far more consideration when giving me dreams" you shift slightly, lips kissing the palm of the creator.

"Demanding and needy" he accuses you now "Always getting your way around me"

And just when you´re about to talk once again, a high pitch croak can be heard "Is rather rude to cast me away when needing alone time, my Lord" Matthew's voice is heard. He's standing on the window frame.

You chuckle.

Morpheus sighs in annoyance, "Tell Lucienne I heard her calling the first time"

Matthew croaks once again, "Boss Lady just wanted to make sure" and then he was off.

You look back at Morpheus, and he´s already looking at you.

"Consideration you will have, dazzling creature" he reassures you softly.

And before he goes, his lips tingle against yours.

#morpheus #morpheus sandman #dream of the endless #dream x reader #morpheus x reader #sandman x reader #morpheus fic #morpheus fluff #the sandman #netflix the sandman #sandman

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honeybeezgobzzzzz · 13 days ago

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🐦‍⬛ Morpheus’ Adventure with Animal Control

Morpheus' Adventure with Animal Control: Morpheus get’s picked up animal control and sent to the local animal shelter. Matthew sends you to the rescue.

Warnings: Meowpheus, Language, Nudity.

To Note: Morpheus x Reader.

Word Count: ~4.3k

Morpheus Masterlist

How dare these humans assume that he is just another cat on the streets! Morpheus is fuming, naturally. He’s been wandering the streets of your hometown, tending to the dreams of the cats, when some mortal picks him up and stuffs him in a cage! How dare they think he’s just another stray! But there’s nothing the Endless can do, as he’s currently barred from shifting back to his human form or using his power due to an agreement with his sibling. It’s a temporary agreement, but nonetheless, he’s stuck as a cat and in the hands of mortals!

Sharp blue eyes glare at the metal grates confining him in a box. Morpheus lets out a displeased rumble. The mortal sitting in the driver’s seat glances at the black feline and chuckles.

“I know, buddy, living on the street was probably freeing, but now you can have a home and not worry about where your next meal will come from!” Morpheus’ eye twitches, and he lets out another huff. The mortal thinks she’s doing him a charity! He has no need for such things nor does he need a home. He already has one within the Waking World. Your home.

Grumpily settling in place, Morpheus turns his eyes to the window above his cage and watches as buildings pass. Help will come, much to Morpheus’ distaste. Reduced to a stray feline... The rest of the car ride to the animal shelter, Morpheus is subjected to subpar singing and baby voices from the woman.

When the woman gets out of the car and carries Morpheus towards a building, his claws dig into the plastic beneath him as he’s jostled. He makes more sounds of an unhappy feline but only receives more babyish cooing from the woman. Never again, he promises himself, he will never allow himself to be in such a compromising position. He’s jostled some more as the woman moves from room to room until the Dream Lord finds himself in a large room that smells of chemicals and other felines. The box is placed on a table, and Morpheus eyes the metal grates when more voices join the woman.

“Where did you find this one?”

“Near the park where we found the others last week. This one seems to be well-fed, so I don’t think he was born feral.” Feral? Morpheus bristles at being called feral... but the conversation only grows worse. “I didn’t see anything that signaled he’d been abandoned, so maybe he ran away.”

“We can check for a microchip. You got the scanner?” A device is passed between the mortals just as the metal grate in front of Morpheus opens. A face appears before hands reach into the cage and grab his body. Morpheus is too stunned by the utter audacity of the mortal to do anything other than let them haul his large body from his confines.

He’s a very large cat. Far larger than the mortals expect, and by far the largest they’ve ever seen. And entirely black. Placed on his feet, Morpheus eyes the mortals as something is waved over his neck.

“He’s not microchipped.” A deeper voice says while Morpheus lets out a disgruntled meow and tries to sulk off the cold table. Hands stop him, pulling Morpheus right back to the center of the table.

“Not microchipped. We can put out a notice with his picture, see if someone recognizes him.” A mortal speaks while hands press against his body. Morpheus reluctantly allows the prodding, not wanting to react in any way other than what’s expected of a feline. He’s beginning to get short-tempered with the touches but withholds lashing out with his claws and teeth... that is until the vet tries to take his temperature...

You haven’t seen Morpheus within the Dreaming in several days... he’s also stood you up on your visits to the park. Not the worst thing in the world, but you’re slightly upset because you sort of kind of have a crush on the Endless and him ghosting you hurts. But you’re not dating, and he doesn’t seem to be romantically interested (at least in your mind, he however…). So you’re morosely sipping a hot drink while staring out a window in your flat, trying not to be depressed. That’s when a black blob flies into your window with a loud smack, startling you.

“What the hell?” You gape, setting your drink down and standing up. Had that been a bird? It’s a little big to be one of the crows you occasionally see in your housing area. As you step up to the pane of glass, you catch sight of a very dazed Matthew sprawled out on the ground just outside. “What the hell, Matthew!” You exclaim, running for the back door of your flat. Exiting the building, you scurry up to the downed bird in confusion.

“I think I scrambled my brain,” Matthew groans while you collect his body. “Totally thought that was an open window.”

“Nope, that window doesn’t open,” you tell him as you carry him into your flat. Depositing him onto the table, you check the rattled raven over for injuries and are happy to see that he has none. “So... why’d you try to fly in here in such a rush?”

“Oh yeah!” Matthew exclaims, snapping to and scrambling to his stick-like feet. “WE’VE GOT TROUBLE!” The raven thunders in your face. You’re about to tell Matthew to tone it down, but he isn’t done. “So the boss is kind of stuck as a cat right now and can’t shift back for a little while, and he just got picked up by animal control!”

You blink, your mind trying to process what Matthew has shouted at you with such fervor.

“Sorry, what was that?” You question, your eyebrows scrunching together.

“Morpheus is stuck in his cat form and the animal shelter is going to neuter him!” Matthew screeches in a bluster, not knowing if the shelter would actually neuter the Endless... but at this point? It’s not out of the realm of possibilities. That’s the usual routine at shelters to reduce the feral population. Only Morpheus isn’t feral. Neither is he a cat.

“How the fuck did that happen?” You blurt out. Matthew waves his wings.

“Fuck if I know! You gotta save him before he gets the snip-snip!”

“Right, probably should do that,” you mutter to yourself, frantically looking for your car keys. You’re out of your flat and in your car in under twenty seconds, not giving Matthew a chance to even tell you what Morpheus looks like as a cat. The raven only hopes that you’ll figure out which cat is Morpheus... and that you make it before his boss loses his dignity.

You’re well frazzled by the time you barge into the town’s local animal shelter. They all look at you in surprise before someone approaches and asks if they can help you.

“My cat,” you blurt out loudly. “He’s— I lost my cat... I was told he was taken here, but I—” You don’t know what to say, because you’ve never seen Morpheus in cat form. You don’t know if he looks like a specific breed, what size he is, or if he has any identifying marks. You know nothing. Luckily, the shelter volunteer doesn’t ask you any questions and simply leads you to the holding room full of cats. You’re overwhelmed; the room is a storage area with several cats sulking about. Shit. He could be any one of them.

“I’ll leave you here to be reunited with your kitty,” the worker tells you. “Doc’s calling; I’ll be away for only a bit.” You watch them walk away and whimper, fearing you won’t be able to pick out who Morpheus is because none of the cats have an ‘Endless’ vibe.

Dropping into a lone chair, you slump your head into your hands with a defeated sound as a few of the cats come up to sniff you. You try to find Morpheus among them, you really do, but none of them act like Morpheus or look like him. Would cat Morpheus even act like the normal Morpheus you’re used to? While you’re almost ready to break down into tears at the thought of Morpheus being stuck as a cat and heaven forbid, neutered, the worker returns.

“Did you find— Oh my, no! Bad kitty!” The worker exclaims, much to your confusion. You look at what they’re staring at, only to find an enormous black cat with a cone of shame standing in front of you and staring into your eyes with the bluest eyes you’ve ever seen. You know that gaze. The cat jumps into your lap and rises on its hind legs to plant its paws on your chest. Relief floods your body because you know this is Morpheus.

Then you notice the bandage wrapped around his hind leg.

“Morpheus, what did you do!?” You sharply exclaim, your hands reaching for the clearly wrapped injury. No wonder he’s wearing the cone of shame! Morpheus begins softly purring to reassure you and assert that he’s fine and there’s no need for you to worry.

“Oh! Is this your cat?” The worker asks as you peer at the feline’s injured leg. It’s tightly wrapped, and most likely the reason for the cone. You look at them and nod.

“Yes, he’s my cat,” you stutter out, your fingers unconsciously running down the feline dream lord’s back. He finds your touch pleasurable and arches his back into your touch. “I... I didn’t realize he’d gotten out.”

I am pleased that you came to rescue me from these deplorable mortals.

“They’re just doing their job,” you automatically chide Morpheus as he lets out a disgruntled meow. “Don’t complain.”

They tried to accost— You cut off Morpheus’ accusing words.

“Not right now,” you tell him before your cheeks grow hot. The worker probably can’t hear Morpheus speaking to you, so it would be odd for you to argue with him while he’s in cat form. What kind of nutty human talks to their cat like this? You clear your throat. “I’m so sorry if he caused you trouble. May I ask what happened? He wasn’t like this last I knew...” The worker waves you off.

“Oh, don’t worry about it. He seems quite attached to you, and some cats just don’t like people other than their owners.” Your hand, which rests on Morpheus’ back, presses down to stop him from going off on a tangent about him being an Endless and no Endless have owners. He doesn’t speak but certainly lets out a rumbling growl to air his displeasure. “When we were giving him a check-up, he didn’t like having his temperature checked. He hurt himself trying to escape the exam room, so cone of shame for him.”

You eye Morpheus with a raised eyebrow, and he just huffs and presses himself further against your chest, practically laying on you. You pat the space between his ears to calm him down as he eyes the worker with a clear warning.

“He’s not usually so mean,” you nervously say, running your fingers down Morpheus’ long back. His fur feels so soft and silky, but you honestly wonder why he’s so big.

I am not mean... and remove this deplorable mortal contraption from my neck! Morpheus demands, his eyes staring into yours like pools of cerulean water.

You ignore the grumbling Endless and wrap your arms around his body to hold him against your chest while you stand up. He’s heavy, as expected given his large size... but the Endless decides to help you out by wiggling upwards and placing his paws on your shoulder, holding himself up as best he can with the monstrosity around his neck. He’s graced with a very nice view of your ass and takes that as part of his consolation prize.

“Is there any paperwork I need to do before I take him home?” you ask, wanting to get the grumpy and injured Dream Lord back to your flat before he causes any more chaos or mayhem.

“Just some sign-out paperwork,” the worker cheerfully replies before guiding you to the front desk. While you’re filling out the paperwork, Morpheus reluctantly has to be placed in an animal carrier to be transported back to your flat. You try to ignore his angry yowls and hisses and certainly the threats and exclamations that float into your mind. There are many threats of ‘you dare...’ and ‘I will darken your dreams with nightmares...’

When you get back to your flat and figure out what the hell is going on, you know Morpheus is going to be in one of his moods. It wouldn’t surprise you if you had nightmares tonight. Sighing, you finish the paperwork and return the pen before looking at Morpheus, who has his razor-sharp claws digging into the soft cardboard of the disposable cat carrier that only just fits his size.

“Morpheus!” you exclaim in exasperation. The yowling cat freezes at your call and looks at you, as do the workers trying to get him into the carrier. “Just let them put you in, the sooner you do that, the sooner you can go home.”

I will not—

You point at the carrier more firmly, and Morpheus ceases his grumbles and struggles almost instantly. He doesn’t wish to argue with you or make trouble, so he goes limp and lets the mortals stuff him into the box and close it. They’re shocked by his sudden compliance.

“Wow, he sure listens to you,” the receptionist says as you hold your tongue and dread the retaliation you’ll get for yelling at an Endless. “What kind of breed is he? He’s so big! I’ve never seen a cat with such pretty eyes. He’s a handsome boy.”

“I think he’s got some Maine Coon in him,” you vaguely mutter, taking the offered carrier and glowering cat from a worker. You can hear Morpheus’ soft grumbled hisses about the babying he’s being subjected to. “I’m sorry you had to deal with him. He’s not usually so grumpy.”

“Oh, don’t worry about it. I’m sure he’s just stressed out and wants to go home.” You give the workers a thankful smile before lugging Morpheus back to your car and quickly putting him in the passenger seat.

“Let’s agree to never do that again,” you speak, pulling out of the shelter’s parking lot.

Release me.

“Not now.”

Y/N, you will release me from my confines.

“Not while I’m driving!” Morpheus huffs and tries to get comfortable within his small confines. He’ll be free soon enough. So he stares at you through the little holes in the cardboard box, watching your face scrunch up in concentration. It’s only a short drive to your flat, but by the time you park in your driveway and are lugging Morpheus into your house, the sky has opened up and it’s pouring rain.

Stumbling into your flat, you set Morpheus down and let out a deep breath. You’re soaked. Morpheus is apparently stuck as a cat. This is above your pay grade and you’re not even paid! First things first, get Morpheus out and rid him of that cone before he rages at you. Crouching down, you push your dripping hair over your shoulder and undo the little tabs to open the cardboard box. The moment you do, Morpheus awkwardly shoves his coned head up at you with insistence.

“The receptionist was right,” you murmur to yourself. “You are a very handsome cat.”

While I appreciate your sentiments, this is but a temporary form.

You blink and feel your cheeks grow hot. Right. Morpheus can still hear you perfectly well and communicate just the same.

“Speaking of which, how long are you stuck like this?” you ask, your fingers working to undo the collar. When you have it off, Morpheus jumps out of the box and shakes out his body.

The deal shall wear off in hours, or perhaps a day or two. I know not the exact time, but it is soon. Morpheus explains to you, turning in a circle and shaking the leg with the bandage around it. It itches and he finds the cloth irritating.

“Don’t do that,” you scold him, reaching back to stop him from shaking off the bandage.

It is but a mere scratch that will heal once I return to my mortal form. The Endless promises you, sitting down and staring into your worried eyes. You sigh and raise an eyebrow at the Dream Lord. I would not lie to you.

“Okay, just—keep it on for my sake, please?” you ask, your eyebrows furrowing once more. “I don’t want anything to happen to you.” As you speak, you reach out and brush your fingertips between Morpheus’ ears. The Endless purrs and bumps your fingers, pleased that you’re not terribly upset. He would be despondent should you be upset over such a thing.

Looking down at your soaked attire, you pull your wet shirt away from your skin and grimace.

“Well, now that that has been sorted, I am going to take a shower and get ready for bed. It’s been a long day.” You rise to your feet and begin peeling your clothes off, not really thinking about the fact that Morpheus is in your flat and will definitely be getting a view. The Endless himself is rather in awe of what he sees as you dump your wet clothing in a hamper, now only wearing undergarments. You are an incredibly beautiful human, and oh how he wishes he had the pleasure of acquainting himself with it.

He plans on it. He’s been slowly wooing you over the last few weeks. You both regularly meet at a park, which he consequently missed because of his current condition, and the Endless is now itching to simply declare his intentions with you before someone else comes along and snatches you up. So he follows the route you walked through your flat and then slips through the cracked door into the steamy bathroom.

The shower is on, and you’re humming under your breath as you bathe. Morpheus likes the sound of your voice, your hums even more. He jumps up onto the bathroom counter and sits on the edge, happily listening to you. Waiting. You don’t take long in your shower. You just want to warm up and give your hair a quick wash, nothing too extravagant. When you turn the shower off and draw back the curtains while reaching for your bath towel, you are not expecting to see Morpheus the cat calmly sitting on your bathroom counter, staring at you. With a loud yelp, you quickly cover your naked body with the towel.

“Morpheus!” you hiss at him, mortification now singeing your cheeks. His dark head cocks to the side unperturbed.

We need to speak. You stare at him, wondering if he really just barged into your bathroom and waited for you to get out of the shower. Apparently, he had.

“Do we?” you repeat, craftily maneuvering the towel around your body to better cover yourself. “I’m tired and almost brain-dead. Your little stint at the animal shelter drained me, and I’m still wrapping my head around you being a cat.”

I have many forms... but if you wish to hold off the conversation until the morrow, I will humor you.

“How magnanimous of you,” you dryly reply, walking past him to your bedroom. You make a point to shut the door in his face before he can sneak in so you can change without him peeking at you. This displeases the Endless, and he scratches the door with a paw to make it known. Very known. “I’m changing!” you call back to him, rolling your eyes. He really is acting like a cat.

And I fail to see why you must do so behind a closed door.

“Because I’m naked! That’s why!” Again, he doesn’t understand why you’re being so modest about your body.

You have one of the most beautiful bodies in all of creation, Y/N. Again, may I reiterate my failure to understand why you must have this barrier between us? Morpheus really doesn’t understand why you’re so shy about your complete and utter beauty. If you would just allow him the chance to explain how in love he is with you, then none of this would be necessary! He scratches at the door again, this time with both front paws. Scratch, scratch, scratch. You open the door, dressed in a shirt and underwear, and stare down at the Endless feline in exasperation.

“We are not in a romantic relationship, Morpheus,” you tell him with cheeks aflame. “And I am plain in comparison to those you’ve come across in your life. Let’s not pretend that you’re interested in a mortal, okay?”

I do not appreciate your words of self-demean, Y/N. You have no idea what has gotten his tail in a twist, and you’re not interested in having your heart ripped to shreds by an Endless, so you roll your eyes and go back to drying your hair. Once your hair is moderately dried and ready for bed, you climb into bed and turn out the light with a sigh. Tomorrow, you’re sure that things will return to normal and your odd relationship with Dream of the Endless will go back to the way it was. Just... acquaintances... maybe even friends.

Padding over to the side of your bed, Morpheus jumps up onto the soft surface and walks his way over to your face. You blink at him in confusion.

“You don’t need to stay here while I sleep, you know. I’m sure there are other places you’d rather be.”

I am exactly where I wish to be. Morpheus tells you, rubbing his face against your shoulder to mark you. Then he turns in a circle before settling down next to your chest. You will talk in the morning, and you will finally understand why the Endless spends so much time with you.

“You better inform Matthew that you’re alright,” you murmur, your eyes closing. Your fingers reach out to gently stroke Morpheus’ soft body, and he begins purring. “He was really worried about you.”

Sleep. Such a bossy feline.

You always wake up hot without fail, smothered by blankets and uncomfortable. So when you yawn and snuggle back into your cool mattress, you’re almost keyed into the fact that something is off. But you’re so comfortable and drowsy that you pass off that confusion in exchange for more snuggles with your bed. Then you realize that you’re not exactly sprawled on your mattress, and the coolness you’re feeling is coming from someone else. Dragging your eyes open, you stare at the wall opposite your bed for a few moments in confusion. Then it hits you that you’re half on top of someone, clinging to them with your arm.

“Do you feel rested?” Morpheus’ voice is like a battering ram in your ear, jump-starting your heart and making you physically jerk in place and scramble around so you’re on your hands and knees staring at him. Oh. My. God. He blinks at you expectantly, patiently waiting for an answer. He’s been up since returning to mortal form and has been waiting for you.

“You’re back to normal,” you comment weakly.

“Indeed,” the Endless agrees, tilting his head to the side. “I returned to this form some hours ago.”

“You’re still here,” you dumbly point out. His eyebrow goes up.

“I wish to speak with you regarding a sensitive topic. You asked to wait until the next day to do so, so I have waited.”

“You are naked!” you whisper-shout, trying not to combust or turn into a tomato. God, your body feels so hot at the moment! “And I just slept on you, and you let me!”

“You were deep within your dreams, blissfully resting. I did not wish to tear you from such peace,” Morpheus points out before raising a hand and gently stroking your chin. “Now, before you come up with some other excuse to avoid speaking with me, I shall simply inform you of what has been plaguing my mind these last few weeks.”

You tremble in place, hypnotized by his starry blue gaze that you are more than grateful keeps you from openly gawking at Morpheus’ naked god-like body.

“Okay?” you ask hesitantly, slumping onto your shins.

“I feel for you most ardently, Y/N, and wish to ask permission to court you should you be so willing.” Your brain short-circuits for a few moments as you comprehend what Morpheus has just said. Heart pounding in your chest, you force yourself to remain calm.

“And... you felt the need to tell me this when you are naked?” Morpheus’ lips quirk to the side.

“I believe we have skirted around this topic long enough and the opportunity presented itself.”

“You could have gone back to the Dreaming and gotten changed, or just magicked yourself an outfit,” you point out, your fingers twitching against your bedsheets. It’s getting harder not to look.

“Perhaps, but you were most comfortable and I dared not disturb you.” In essence, he’d returned to human form and let you sleep on his naked body for a good chunk of time. How embarrassing. Clearly, he likes seeing you squirm.

“I should have left you at the shelter,” you gripe at him for teasing you. You receive another smirk as Morpheus teasingly brushes his thumb across your lower lip.

“A lie, surely.”

“Next time you get stuck in cat form? You’re on your own.” You’re all bluster, he knows it. You know it. The entire Dreaming knows it.

Date Published: 12/7/23

Last Edit: 03/7/25

Morpheus Masterlist

#morpheus x reader #dream of the endless #dream x reader #the sandman netflix #the sandman x reader #the sandman fanfiction #dream morpheus #Fanfiction: Morpheus

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downbadf0rficppl · 1 year ago

Text

iced caramel latte

Dream x F!Reader

Summary: Dream may come to the cafe to see his friend, but you are evermore intriguing. When Dream finds out that you rarely sleep - he seems to have found his next experiment. What if you're more than that?

Word Count: 3.6K

AN: Dream is very OOC in this (sorry) but apart from that it's literally just fluff. I don't know where this came from but I blame it on the flu. Hope you enjoy!!

It was unlike Dream to be standing in front of a mortal café at this hour. By all accounts, he was almost seventy years early for this meeting, but he had promised Hob that he wouldn’t leave the meetings so long this time. And, perhaps, secretly, he was happy to have a friend.

Standing outside the small café a few streets down from the pub, hands tucked into his jacket pockets, he could see Hob sat at the counter, a grimace painted on his face. A small stack of papers piled next to him, Dream chuckled. His friend was not one to slow down. Ever. In fact, this café was just another one of Hob’s attempts at keeping busy. He had bought this place after the pub became one of the most popular gastropubs in the area. It inspired him to buy another. And then another. This café was the latest in a long line of (less-than-smart) investments.

The café was a small, welcoming place that was popular among the crowd of local university students. The scent of coffee and ink permeated the air, curling into the quiet hum of conversation and the clatter of porcelain.

A girl passed by Hob, grabbing a few mugs, and seemingly cracking a joke, seeing as Hob turned his head towards her and he burst out laughing, throwing his head back in the delightful way that only Hob could. Dream smiled slightly.

The bell above the door announced his entrance and both Hob and the girl turned to face him as he made his way to the counter.

“Didn’t think you were the café type,” Hob mused, gesturing to the seat opposite him.

Dream regarded the chair for a moment before lowering himself into it. He had no need for human comforts, yet something about the space felt... grounding. Hob slid a steaming cup toward him. “Coffee?”

Dream barely glanced at it. “I have no need for mortal stimulants.”

Hob chuckled.

Dream’s attention drifted elsewhere, drawn by a quiet presence moving through the space. You. There was something familiar about you, though he did not yet understand why. The rhythm of your steps, the ease with which you carried the weight of exhaustion, stirred his curiosity. He found himself speaking before he had even decided to do so.

“I’ll have whatever the lady recommends.”

“The lady?” You laugh, “Never heard that one before.”

Hob blinked, before bursting into laughter. Dream simply waited.

Hob’s smirk widened. “Oi, love,” he called, drawing your attention. “Bring us whatever your favourite is, will you?”

You glanced between the two of them, curiosity flickering in your gaze before you nodded. A few moments later, you returned and placed a drink in front of him—a chilled cup with golden swirls threading through the ice. “Here you go. My personal favourite.”

Dream lifted the glass, taking a slow, deliberate sip. He had expected something rich and bitter, perhaps reminiscent of the dark depths of human longing. Instead, the overpowering sweetness clung to his tongue, thick and cloying. He coughed, setting the cup down with an uncharacteristic flicker of surprise.

Hob roared with laughter. “Didn’t see that coming, did you?”

You snorted, covering your mouth with your hand, and Dream turned his gaze to you. The sound of your laughter, light and genuine, resonated within him in a way he did not fully understand. He allowed the corner of his lips to curve, just slightly.

“Lucienne?” Dream called out as he wandered through the vast halls of his Library. His shoes tapped against the floor as he traced his fingers along the endless shelves.

“Yes, my lord?” Lucienne responded, jumping down from the ladder on which she was perched.

“I seek a book,” Dream said, his voice echoing through the grand chamber.

Lucienne nodded, “Their name?”

He spoke it, your name lingering in the air like a whispered secret. Lucienne’s eyes flickered with surprise at Dream’s inflection, but she turned to search the shelves without a word. Dream watched as she moved efficiently, fingers ghosting over spines that pulsed with the memories of dreamers. But as the minutes stretched on, she hesitated.

Lucienne frowned. “That’s… odd.”

Dream stepped forward. “What is it?”

Lucienne turned back to him, her brows furrowed in concern, a thin book in her hands. “There’s no entry. Not one.”

A rare flicker of confusion crossed Dream’s expression. “Impossible. Every dreamer has entries.”

Lucienne hesitated before meeting his gaze. “Unless they’re not.” At his confusion, she elaborates, “A dreamer. What if they do not dream?”

Silence settled between them. Dream’s mind turned, considering the implications. A mortal without an entry in their book —without a single dream to call their own—was a rarity. An anomaly.

And yet, as he recalled the exhaustion in your eyes, the way you carried the weight of sleeplessness with such resigned acceptance, he realized the truth of it.

You did not dream because you did not sleep.

For the first time in a long while, something within Dream stirred. A curiosity. A question. A pull toward the sleepless mortal who had unknowingly drawn the attention of the Lord of Dreams himself.

To everyone’s surprise, the next night, Dream found himself at your doorstep.

It was not often that he visited mortals outside the realm of dreams. And yet, here he stood, a figure of shadow and starlight against the quiet hum of the city. He did not knock, but you noticed him anyway—perhaps you had felt the shift in the air, or perhaps you were simply used to the strange.

You opened the door, blinking up at him with tired eyes, unsurprised. “You found me,” you said, voice warm with amusement rather than fear.

Dream stepped forward. “You do not sleep.”

A beat passed before you shrugged. “Never have.”

He studied you, expecting denial, discomfort—something. Instead, you tilted your head, unbothered. “I’ve always had trouble sleeping,” you admitted. “Ever since I was a kid.”

Dream frowned. “Why?”

Another shrug. “No reason. Sometimes, I just… don’t.”

He was silent for a moment, searching your expression as though the answer might be buried there. You met his gaze without hesitation, unshaken by the weight of it.

“This is unnatural,” Dream finally said, more to himself than to you.

You smiled wryly. “It’s normal for me.”

Dream did not like that answer. Sleep was meant to be a comfort, a necessity—his gift to mortals, whether they realized it or not. And yet, you had gone without it for so long that your exhaustion had become part of you, worn like a second skin.

“Do you wish to sleep?” he asked, voice softer now.

You hesitated, the question heavier than you expected. Finally, you exhaled. “Sometimes.”

That was all the answer Dream needed.

He raised a hand, fingers brushing lightly against your temple. A warmth bloomed in his touch, soothing and unfamiliar. Your eyelids grew heavy, and for the first time in a long time, you felt the pull of sleep.

As you swayed, Dream caught you before you could fall. With careful hands, he guided you to your bed, watching as you surrendered to the quiet oblivion of dreams. And as he stood over you, watching the steady rise and fall of your breath, Dream found himself lingering longer than he should have.

The following night, you found yourself lying awake in your room, the soft moonlight filtering through the window. The world beyond seemed distant, muffled in its own stillness. Yet, as you drifted into sleep, the familiar sensation of being pulled into the Dreaming swirled around you. This time, however, something felt different.

You stood at the foot of a large castle, its spires looming tall and towers shimmering with faint, unearthly light. The stone beneath your feet was warm, as though the castle itself pulsed with life. As you stepped forward, a presence emerged from the shadows, his recognisable black coat giving him away. Dream stood tall, regal, his dark robes billowing slightly in the non-existent breeze. His pale face was unreadable, but his eyes… they lingered on you with an unfamiliar softness.

"You’re… here?" Dream asked, his voice low but edged with something you couldn’t quite place. There's a flicker of surprise, followed by curiosity.

"Couldn’t stay away," you replied, a playful edge to your voice. There was an ease between you now, as if you’d always belonged here, even though the reality of it was quite different. He studied you quietly, as though weighing the moment.

"Come," he said, stepping aside to let you enter. "I was not expecting company, but I am not displeased." His lips curled into the faintest of smiles, a small, uncharacteristic gesture. You followed him deeper into the castle, the walls whispering softly with the echoes of dreamers' thoughts. He led you to a tall balcony, where the whole Dreaming was visible beneath you. Your mouth dropped open of its own accord. It was stunning. To your left, Dream only smiled.

As the night progressed, you spoke - about the realms of dreams, about your own world, and the surrealness of this place. Dream listened intently, his gaze lingering on you longer than usual. He seemed fascinated, as if there was a part of him that finds something new and intriguing in your presence. You, too, began to feel it—the pull, the way Dream seemed to understand you in ways others didn’t.

As dawn approached, you bid him goodbye as he set off to do his duty. There was something lingering as he bid you goodnight, almost as if he didn’t want to let you go. You shook your head. You were seeing things that weren’t there. Still, you left a soft kiss on his cheek, as your vision faded to black and you woke up in your own bed. You scoffed at the pinking of his cheeks that you thought you saw as you closed your eyes.

The following night, Dream arrived earlier than expected, standing at the edge of the castle once more. He was dressed in his usual dark attire, though now his expression seemed softer, less guarded. When you appeared, he gestured toward the castle, but this time, there was a certain eagerness in his movements.

"I thought," Dream began, his voice almost uncertain, "that you might like to meet some of my… creations." His eyes flickered away from yours for a moment, then returned, brimming with something almost shy.

You could only nod.

The first person to meet was Lucienne - Dream's right hand, you nicknamed her.

Tall, regal, and striking in her stillness, she was surrounded by towering shelves of books that stretched beyond what seemed possible. She was focused, her brow furrowed as she carefully adjusted the placement of a book on one of the shelves. Her appearance was immaculate, her dark hair braided in a complex pattern, her eyes sharp and intelligent. There was an air of calm wisdom about her that made you feel as though you were in the presence of something far greater than you could comprehend.

"Ah, Dream has brought you here," she said softly, without turning to face you, her voice smooth and warm. "You must be the new arrival. I am Lucienne, the librarian of the Dreaming."

She turned to you then, offering a kind, welcoming smile. Her gaze was kind but assessing, as if she were quickly measuring you. "It is an honor to meet someone from the waking world," she continued, the smile never fading. "I manage the stories, the dreams, the knowledge of this place. Everything that happens here is recorded in some form or another."

You nodded, somewhat awestruck. There was a gravity to her presence that made you feel both small and important at the same time.

"Is there anything I can help you with?" she asked, her tone inviting but controlled, as if she had seen all manner of souls wandering through the Dreaming.

Before you could respond, there was a loud, gruff voice from behind you.

"Lucienne, I’m not sure that book belongs there! You know how I feel about misplaced…" The voice trailed off as a figure appeared in the doorway—a squat, pumpkin-headed man, his face carved into a permanent frown. He wore a janitor’s uniform, though it was a little worse for wear, and a cigarette dangled from his lips. His eyes, barely visible beneath his pumpkin head, flicked between you and Lucienne.

"This is Mervyn," Lucienne said with a barely contained sigh, though her expression softened with a hint of affection. "He’s our… custodian of sorts."

Mervyn rolled his eyes but gave you a quick nod, the smoke from his cigarette swirling around him like a tiny storm. "Nice to meet you, I suppose. Watch out for the dust in here, it’ll choke a person. And try not to knock anything over, we don’t want the big guy—" He gestured vaguely toward the ceiling, "—to come down here yelling."

Before you could ask who he meant, a dark shape flitted across the room—a raven, perched on the windowsill. Its sharp eyes studied you with an intensity that was almost unnerving. The raven cawed loudly, flapping its wings slightly as it hopped onto a nearby chair.

"And this is Matthew," Lucienne said, her voice filled with quiet amusement. "He’s one of Dream’s newer companions."

Matthew the raven cocked his head, giving you a sharp look before hopping closer to Lucienne’s side. He gave a low croak, as if offering a greeting of sorts, though his attention never wavered from you.

"You’ll get used to the oddities of this place," Lucienne added with a smile, before gesturing for you to follow her deeper into the castle.

As you walked through the winding halls, you eventually arrived at a large, open space where two figures stood facing each other, bickering loudly.

"Cain, Abel," Lucienne greeted them, her tone even, though there was a hint of warmth there.

They turned to face the three of you, bowing as they caught sight of Dream. Dream leaned his mouth towards your ear: "Constant property disputes, those two. Never satisfied."

You hid your laugh behind a cough.

"Nice to meet you, ma'am." Both Cain and Abel bowed to you, before bursting into another argument about who's bow was better. Before anyone could say anything.

Before you could respond, a massive form appeared behind them—an enormous dragon, its scales gleaming like emeralds, its eyes glowing with an ancient wisdom. The dragon’s wings folded against its back as it lowered its head to greet you, its breath warm and heavy, though not threatening.

"This," Dream said with a small smile, "is Gregory - a gift of mine to Cain and Abel." Gregory came up to you slowly, sniffing not unlike a dog. You reached out your hand and waited patiently. Gregory sniffed your hand slowly before jumping up and licking your face. You laughed out loud: it turns out dragons are exactly like dogs.

You bid adieu to Cain and Abel and disappeared to the balcony again. As the evening wore on, Dream’s interest in you never waned—it had only deepened. The way he watched you when you spoke, the subtle way his fingers brushed against yours when he handed you something, all of it spoke of a growing, unspoken affection. It wasn’t clear to you, but he was all too aware: Dream, the Lord of the Dreaming, one of the Endless, had begun to harbour feelings for you.

Dream sits with you on the balcony as you stare up at the stars. His eyes rove over your face - almost as if he's searching for every answer on your face.

"What?" You chuckle, turning to face him, head leaning against the railing, "Do I have something on my face?"

"Nothing you shouldn't? Are you expecting there to be something there?"

Your chuckle turns into a snort as you realise that Dream has never heard that saying before. You try to explain it but give up as Dream's face contorts into more and more confusion.

"Why do you not sleep?"

You suppose you shouldn't be surprised by the question, given that predicament is what led you here in the first place, but it still catches you off guard.

"Umm, I guess I don't know?" You say sitting up properly. "I've never really slept well - my mother always used to say that it was the one bad thing I did as a child. I was just never tired, according to her."

"You didn't feel the need to sleep?" Dream was surprised.

"I suppose, sleeping was lonely - my mother spent a lot of time sleeping as a girl because of the sickness," that made a lot of sense to Dream, "so maybe that had something to do with it. And, I suppose, as I got older, sleeping felt unnecessary because it was lonely."

"What do you mean?"

"I just felt like..." You turned away from him to admit this next bit because you now felt embarrassed that you even thought this way, "Everyone else had dreams to keep them company while they slept. I never had any of that."

You were surprised when Dream took your hand.

"You'll never be lonely here again."

Dream waited for you at the gates again, his black coat flowing around him as the wind picked up. You were late. He was disappointed. And apparently - tonight - disappointment meant winds that were rustling all throughout the dreaming. You were supposed to be here on time tonight. Dream had promised to show you the most beautiful place in the Dreaming - Fiddler's Green, of course, nearly everyone in the Dreaming would agree - and you had almost screamed in excitement when he explained it to you. But now, you were nowhere to be seen.

Hours of waiting later, he decided to check on you. Just because friends look out for each other. No other reason. He briefly thought of sending Matthew, but he knew that Matthew would be slow and may get distracted. Endless don’t get distracted.

Your bedroom window was large and faced away from the street, but there were many street cats in your area. Your fence was not that high - that would have to be fixed - but your window sill was a comfortable place to sit. A small light lit up your entire room. The reason you had not shown up at the dreaming that night, was because you had not fallen asleep

He had not expected it—not after the last time, when he had guided you gently into slumber, ensuring you found rest within the Dreaming. And yet, here you were, sitting up in bed, eyes shadowed with exhaustion, stubbornly clinging to wakefulness.

“You resist sleep once more,” Dream observed, his voice quiet, edged with something that was not quite concerned but close to it.

You huffed a quiet, tired laugh, rubbing at your temples. “Dream? What are you doing here?”

Dream studied you, his pale gaze unreadable. “Why?”

You hesitated, shoulders curling inward slightly. He could see the weight pressing on you, something heavier than just exhaustion. The words slipped out before you could stop them, slow and drowsy, as if your defences were weakened by fatigue.

“Because I love you.”

The room felt impossibly still.

Your voice was hoarse, barely above a whisper, and yet it echoed between you. You swallowed, staring down at your hands, as if regretting saying it out loud. But in your haze of exhaustion, you kept talking.

“I—” You exhaled shakily. “I didn’t want things to be awkward. I didn’t want to ruin anything. But also… I didn’t want to let you go.”

Dream did not move, but something in the air shifted, something ancient and careful. He watched you with an unreadable expression, as though he was considering the weight of your words, the way they settled in the space between you.

Then, at last, he spoke.

“I am fascinated by you as well.”

You let out a small, breathless laugh, more of a tired exhale than anything else. “That’s… probably as close as I’m gonna get to you saying it back, huh?”

Dream did not answer. Instead, he stepped forward, his hands curling around your waist, pulling you close to him. His face just above yours - Dream seemed impossibly tall when he was this close to you - you leaned in, his lips ghosting yours. A small smile pulled at his lips as you blinked up at him, blearily. His fingers barely brushed your temple, and a cool stillness washed over you, easing the tension from your bones. Your eyelids fluttered, your body finally giving in.

“Rest,” he murmured, more of a command than a request. You smiled and acquiesced.

The world around you shifted as you drifted deeper, the familiar comfort of Dream’s arms a constant, grounding force. The dreamscape transformed, and when you woke, you weren’t in the Castle of the Dreaming anymore. The scent of fresh grass, the rustle of leaves, the soft hum of life—it all welcomed you into a new place. Fiddler’s Green.

You blinked, your surroundings coming into focus. Dream was still beside you, but now you were lying in a meadow, the sky above a soft blend of twilight colours. The soft hum of wind around you was gentle, calming. You sat up slowly, looking around, amazed by the serenity of the place.

Dream was watching you with quiet affection, a soft smile on his face as he reached for you. Without thinking, you leaned into him, resting your forehead against his. He didn’t hesitate, cupping your face gently with his hands, as if he’d known this moment would come.

His lips met yours gently at first, a tentative kiss, as though both of you were tasting this newfound connection. And yet, when his arms wrapped around you, drawing you closer, it deepened. Finally, he pulled away, lifting you up gently in his arms. There would be all the time in the world to discover the rest of the Dreaming - and Dream - tomorrow. But for now, it was time to sleep.

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