#morpheus x ofc reader

[lady-phasma]

Morpheus Returns

Part 1 of 2 (so far) cross posted from AO3

Warnings: 18+ minors DNI, general smut and pretty fluffy, p in v sex. Written in first person fem!reader.

Summary a/n: Morpheus returns to find a favorite acolyte has waited 100 years for him. Also a bit of headcanon: I know he doesn’t sleep but the poor entity needs a break from time to time. No beta. 2k words

He lay imperiously on the black sheets of the bed. Their blackness swallowed light, no sheen like satin or silk. Draped over his bone-white body they gave the illusion that any light in the room came from him. The sheet fell across his belly and one leg. His arms spread out to his sides. His shaggy black hair shone with flecks of light as he turned his head in his rest. The King of Dreams sighed deeply.

My every action was imbued with the deepest reverence for Lord Morpheus. Each of us in The Dreaming had our roles and responsibilities, purpose and function. We were each created for a particular role. Although things had changed since his return, I had not. I had waited for a century. As Lucienne had waited. I didn’t leave The Dreaming when others gave up. I had one purpose and my existence was devoted to it. Much like gods and goddesses, the Endless enjoyed worshipers, human or otherwise. I was created to resemble a female human. Lord Morpheus had sculpted me to be perfect for him. Without him I had no purpose. So I waited.

When he returned most of us were gone. Lucienne encouraged him to rest but he had guilt and anger to assuage. I was patient. He saw me once before leaving to find his tools. How I had missed his expressive eyes and perfect mouth. I slid my fingers down his cheek.

“You look tired, my Lord,” I whispered.

“I am, Asteria,” he glanced down at me. “But I will return and I will make good use of our bed.”

My heart ached for his return but I busied myself with helping restore The Dreaming. I especially focused on his quarters. His palace staff gradually returned, as did his dreams and nightmares, but among them all I was cherished. He had given me my own personality, interests, abilities, but I was his design. My very being was sculpted to be his own dream. Each dream or nightmare in The Dreaming was his creation but created for others, for humans. I alone was formed for him, the physical manifestation of his desires. My limbs were long, my skin nearly as pale as his, and my body blessed with ample curves. My breasts were firm and high above a small rounded belly. My hips weren’t narrow but neither were they broad. My entire body was inhumanly hairless like his, except for long chestnut locks that fell, curling down my back. We only possessed human form, we were far from human. He had even named me in honor of the Titaness Asteria, the goddess of falling stars and oneiromancy. She had once had the ability to call him to her at will, Endless or not, to divine meaning from dreams.

I only slightly regretted disturbing his repose. He had previously promised me an audience and given me express instructions when to rouse him. My audiences with Dream were entirely selfish on his part. However, since I was created as a devotee there was immense pleasure in it for me as well.

I stood at the foot of the bed and let my nightgown fall off my shoulders. I climbed onto the bed. My eyes ran up the length of his body, along his exposed leg, his flat stomach, his taught chest, and his perfect collar bones. I sat next to him, my legs curled beneath me. I cupped his cheek in my palm and pressed my lips against his. He moaned into my mouth. His eyes opened just a fraction and he wrapped his long arms around me. I let my body sink into his embrace. This was the first proper kiss we had shared since his return. I wanted to touch every part of him at once. My hands roamed over his shoulders and chest.

“Time to rise, my Lord,” I mumbled into our kiss.

“Yes I suppose it is,” he sighed as he laid back. He placed one hand behind his head and let the other rest on my thigh, his long fingers almost brushing against my sex. His every movement was calculated. It was evident in the twitch at the corners of his mouth that he was enjoying teasing me.

Morpheus sighed again. He briefly closed his eyes. His hand moved slightly on my thigh. It was my turn to sigh.

I propped myself up on one arm and reached to stroke his chest, his arm, anything I could reach. This slight, intentional movement of my hips pressed his fingertips just against my lips. I shivered. He very nearly smiled at my urgency.

I moved to lean above him and began to kiss every inch of him that I could find. I kissed his neck, his chest, his nipples, under his arms, down his ribs. I gradually straddled him as I moved down his body. In doing so I pulled the sheet off of him. He had begun to grow hard at my touches. Oh how I had missed him! But I wanted to draw out my worship as long as possible. And worship I did. I slid my hands over his smooth, marble-like skin. I mumbled praise against his body, whispers of longing and adoration.

He had moved his other hand to rest under his head and lay almost perfectly still. There was a tinge of smile on his pouted lips. He was extremely satisfied. Anyone other than the two of us couldn’t possibly know the praise that was in that close, tight near-smile. It spurred me on. I had waited so long for this and I loved that I pleased him. I trailed kisses down his stomach.

“My Lord,” I said between kisses. “Mmmm… shall I leave you… mmmm… to continue resting?” My eyes shot up to meet his, my lips still on his skin. My grin was obvious.

“Don’t you dare,” he growled. He reached down, placing a hand on either side of my face, and guided me up to kiss him. I spread my legs wider to press our bodies together and he raised his hips up to meet mine. His fingers wound into my hair eliciting a moan from me. His tongue pushed past my lips and teeth. Everything about him was long: legs, tongue, fingers. Another part of him that was quite long pressed against my backside. He had grown harder as I rubbed against him. I pressed my wetness against his belly to force a moan from him.

Morpheus withdrew his hands from my hair and rose up. He lifted me off him, onto my knees. With his hands cupping my ass, he kissed my breasts and my neck.

“You waited,” he murmured. “All these years… you waited.”

“Mmmhmm,” I responded. I buried my face in his hair and wrapped my arms around his neck. I held him close to my chest. I breathed in deeply. “Yes, my Lord. The thought of this moment and memories of the many before kept me warm while you were away. I only wish I could ease your suffering, your hurt.”

He turned his face up to mine and I kissed him, deep and hard. He kissed me back. He maneuvered my hips so that he could guide me down onto his lap. His hardness pressed into me. No hesitation, no resistance, a perfect fit. I gripped and pulled at his hair as the pleasure swept over me. He guided and moved me where and how he wanted. I was attuned to the movement of each of his muscles. His skin against mine felt perfect.

With no warning he flipped us over. He let me down on my back gently but that was all that was gentle. I could tell how badly he had missed me. He never needed excess words or expressions of sentiment with me. Allowing me to touch him, to pull him into myself, to hold him, was evidence enough. As emotionless as Dream wished for others to think him he was in fact often brimming with emotion. He buried his face in my neck and breathed deeply. He pushed himself further into me. I gasped and threw my head back, clutching at his shoulders. I felt warmth and wetness on my neck. I stroked his hair. His rhythm slowed. He made no sound but I knew, I could feel the silent tears. His embrace tightened around me, crushing me into him.

I resisted the urge to shush and console him. For far too long his actions had been governed by others. I was created to be the sole entity in his existence that didn’t require anything of him. I loved it. I cherished that he could let his guard down with me, shed all pretense. His muscles flexed within the circle of my arms. His tears stopped as abruptly as they had begun, short lived and rare.

He raised his head to look at me. He cradled the back of my head in his giant hand and studied my face. His expressive, red-rimmed eyes searched my expression for judgement and finding none he kissed me.

He ran his other hand down the length of my body, down the side of my thigh, guiding my leg over his hip. I pressed my heel into the small of his back, taking him deeper. I purred and arched my back. My hard nipples brushed against his chest. With his elbow bearing his weight, one hand behind my head, the other kneading my ass, I was enveloped by love. I was safe, my Dream had returned.

“Oh Morpheus,” I moaned. I stroked his face, his jaw, his ears and neck. I drew my fingertips across his perfect bottom lip. He kissed them as they passed. He held my gaze with his dark eyes. I saw the universe flash in them. That energy, that power, loved me. His rhythm had never faltered. His strokes were small and intimate. He was savoring our time. That connection was secondary to the reunion he so deeply desired.

But the moment passed and his expression became impassive once again. His stern jaw and pursed lips drove me wild. My breathing was shallow and hot against his neck. My hands had found their way back to his shoulders. I moved my other leg to encircle him. His pace quickened. I clung to him as if even momentarily losing my hold would allow him to disappear again.

Dream felt my need.

His fingers twisted and pulled at my hair. He slid his other hand between us to my breast, kneading, and caused me to arch against him. I was breathless, the entirety of my senses were filled with Morpheus. I kissed his shoulders, his neck. I squeezed, tight, around him as he thrust into me. The blunt exhalations he made as I did this sent electricity through me.

I felt his resolve melting. His rested his head beside mine, his shallow breath hot against my ear. I thought I heard him whisper my name. I moved my hand up the back of his neck and into his hair. I tugged slightly. He groaned. His hand slid from my breast to rub circles around my clit as he pushed deep into me, synchronizing his rhythms. My grasp on his hair tightened.

He pressed his entire body against mine, nothing save his arm between us. The pressure on my clit increased. I dug my heels into his ass, demanding he go as deep as possible. I realized I had been holding my breath and as I exhaled, my face still pressed against his, I moaned his name in half a dozen languages. And came hard and wet around him.

“My Asteria,” he breathed against me. “My love, how I missed you.” So quietly a mortal may not have been able to hear him.

A shiver ran over him, beginning at his shoulders and radiating outward. He exhaled sharply and I felt his final thrust deep into me. His cum was warm and slick between us. Though I couldn’t see his eyes, I knew from experience that they wouldn’t show me the universe at this moment. They would be as black as a void. He almost purred into my neck as his body relaxed.

He slipped his arm from between us and let his full weight rest on me. I slid my legs down, still embracing my Lord. His hand in my hair loosened and rested on the bed beside us. He kissed my ear and began to raise his head.

“Please not yet, Morpheus,” I whispered. “We have spent so long apart.”

He raised his head to look at me and truly smiled.

“I will not leave you just yet,” he stroked my cheek and kissed me gently on the forehead. “I would imagine we need to do that a few more times before I do.”

Part 2

[itskindofidontknow]

What dreams know about love?

Chapter 17

Dream of The Endless/Morpheus x Love!OFC

Summary: The Queen of Love has grown used to the absence of her husband, the Dream King. After banning her from the Dreaming, they only saw each other when Morpheus summoned her for social or marital duties. He would go decades without calling for her, enamorated by a variety of mistresses. It broke Love's heart. Not that her husband cared. However, after being imprisioned for a century, The Dream King wants to regain his Queen's love. She doesn't believe him, not after centuries of neglect. The question is: Can dreams repair a broken heart?

Tag: Established relationship, arranged marriage, regency romance, eventual happy ending, angst, morpheus is a dick prepare to hate, love is eoster from west germanic mythology, typos are to be expected

Sleep proved elusive for Lady Love. She lay in her bed, staring at the dark canopy above, but the silence around her was louder than any celebration could have been. The laughter from the festivities below, once a lively soundtrack to her life, now seemed like a distant echo. The cupids had long abandoned their revelry, and with their absence, a heavy silence had descended, suffocating in its stillness. It wasn’t a silence of peace—it was a silence of waiting, of something unsaid, a void that demanded to be filled but couldn’t be. She could almost feel it pressing against her skin, against her thoughts.

Once, the quiet had been a comfort, a refuge she could retreat to. But now, it felt like the walls were closing in, amplifying every restless thought, every unanswered question. Her mind wandered back to the days of her youth, to the grand soirées she had once attended. The laughter, the music, the endless chatter—how vibrant it all seemed then. The mirth of the nights she shared with her sisters, the bustling crowds, the flirtations, the secrets shared in hushed tones, the world feeling alive with possibility. Yet, now, with time’s cruel clarity, she couldn’t help but wonder—did any of them truly enjoy those times, or had they, like her, hidden behind the noise, using it to cover the emptiness that lay beneath?

A sigh escaped her lips, and she turned towards the faint glow of the night sky, its silvery light filtering softly through the curtains. Perhaps a bath would ease her mind. The thought was fleeting. Her thoughts betrayed her, like they always did. They drifted, of their own accord, to Morpheus. The bond between them, thin as it once had been, now felt inescapable. She could feel it—the pull, the connection—though their physical distance had grown. Was he awake, too? Did he sense her thoughts, her quiet ache? A warmth stirred in her chest, and for a brief moment, she allowed herself the indulgence of the thought—did he miss her as she missed him?

She hesitated. Would he feel her longing? It made her cheeks flush with an unfamiliar heat, a rush of feeling she didn’t quite know what to do with. She had kept her distance for so long, built walls between them, yet the bond persisted—unseen, unfelt, yet so very real. It was like a door left ajar in the cold winds of winter, impossible to close, even if she wanted to.

Her thoughts turned inwards, as they often did, to what could not be spoken aloud. She wished, in that moment, for someone to confide in, someone who might understand. But the only person who might understand—the only person who had ever understood her—was the one she could never face. With a soft groan, Lady Love pressed her forehead into the pillow, the faint scent of roses rising from the fabric. A simpler time, when she could hate her husband without question, when his indifference was a known quantity, and her tears felt justified. How strange it was to miss those days. She had once longed for this, for the silence, for the distance. Now, it felt like an emptiness she could not escape from.

She thought briefly of calling for Elijah, asking him to prepare a calming night-blooming jasmine drink, something to soothe her mind, to help her sleep. But with the Solstice Festival approaching, there was no time for such indulgence. Besides, poor Elijah was probably exhausted. She couldn’t bring herself to burden him further. As his creator, she should ease his load, not add to it.

Eoster didn’t know if she had truly slept or if her mind had wandered so far into its own thoughts that dawn had broken without her noticing. The first light of morning filtered through the curtains, spilling across the room like the touch of a cold hand. The Dream maids entered, their steps measured, precise—each movement choreographed to perfection. Two of them immediately set to work preparing a bath, the warm vanilla scent of the water filling the air, while another selected a long, white dress covered in hand-painted flowers, its delicate fabric a soft contrast to the hardness of her thoughts. A younger maid carried the underskirts and corset, each movement done without a word.

"Good morning, my lady," one of the maids said, her voice soft yet urgent, standing by the bed, waiting for Lady Love to rise. There was no need for the queen to actually wake before they began their work. The maids, trained in the delicate art of serving, always knew when it was time to begin, and when they needed Elijah to handle the awkwardness of waking their sovereign. Unfortunately, Elijah was nowhere to be found.

The queen kept her arm over her eyes, feeling the weight of the night’s wakefulness. She hadn’t remembered telling them to wake her at this hour, so why were they here? The question lingered in the back of her mind as she lay there, unbidden thoughts of Elijah’s fierce insistence on punctuality making her feel guilty for the precious moments lost.

The maid next to her bed, sensing her thoughts, glanced anxiously at the other two before clearing her throat and answering the queen’s silent question. "Elijah told us to come with the rise of the morning, to help you prepare for your pupils’ class."

Lady Love’s heart skipped a beat. Ah, the last lesson before they graduated in the Solstice, the final step before they returned to their realms as emissaries of the Four Loves, forever changed by their knowledge.

"My lad…" She faltered, realizing the weight of Elijah’s carefully crafted schedules, his deep-rooted terror of delays. The maids seemed to share his anxiety, their quiet distress evident in the way they shifted nervously.

"Blessed be your hearts, my dears," she murmured, pretending to yawn before sitting up, allowing the maids to guide her through the ritual of preparation. She allowed herself a moment to breathe, to step out of the fragile silence that had consumed her. But it was only a fleeting moment, as the world outside continued its relentless march forward, and she, ever the queen, had no choice but to follow.

And maybe if lucky enough, manage until the Solstice, not see her husband. Ever again.

—------------ Mervyn had been hiding in the library since the night before.He had expected many things—noise, confusion, perhaps even the occasional brawl—but declarations of unconditional love, proposals, and duels! For his hand, no less. His hand. He had a pumpkin for a head, for fuck’s sake—not exactly the kind of thing that launched a thousand ships or inspired dueling cherubs to take up arms in the name of romance.

And yet, here he was, dusting a shelf he hadn’t touched since the French Revolution just to avoid another lovesick verse comparing his “agricultural elegance” to the divine nature of passion. He wasn’t made of stone—he could take a compliment—but there’s only so many creative ways to rhyme “pumpkin” with “love” before an ordinary Joe starts fantasizing about self-immolation via book candle.

His moment of peace, however, was shattered by the distinctly furious sound of books being thrown to the floor, the kind of violence that suggested heartbreak or arson. He peeked out from between two massive volumes on Russian emperors—Peter looked betrayed; Catherine, disappointed—and sighed—relief and confusion both—at the sight of Lucienne. Of all people, she was the one chucking tomes like grenades? And this wasn’t her usual clinical frustration. No, this was something else.

“You scared the shit outta me, Loosh,” he called, stepping into view. “Thought it was another damn cherub. About to get on one knee. Pop the question.”

‘Again’, he might’ve added.

Lucienne didn’t respond. Didn’t even flinch. Just shook her head like someone ten seconds away from either a breakdown or revolution. These days, the trio of usual staff—herself, Mervyn, and Matthew—were avoiding the smitten cupids and their cooing doves like the devil dodges a crucifix. The Dream Maids, on the other hand—those poor things crafted to serve Lady Love—were positively reveling in the attention, giggling like schoolgirls at every wink a cupid sent their way. Lucienne adjusted her glasses.

Her exhale could’ve flattened a wheat field. “They’re dueling in the palace gardens,” she said flatly. “For your hand. So I’ve heard.”

“Hey, Loosh, I can’t help it if I’m this season’s diamond,” he said, grinning like a man desperately trying to deflect with charm, hoping for at least a smile. She didn’t give him that. Instead, all he got was her just sinking into the nearest chair like gravity had tripled, head in hands, the weight of the entire Dreaming teetering on her temples.

“They’re really taking a toll on you,” Mervyn muttered. “I’ll have a word with that stuck-up boss-cupid.” Lucienne’s weary gaze stopped him in his tracks,presumably to go speak to Elijah . She was quick to shake her head.

“No, Merv. Thank you, but it’s not the cupids.” Her voice was dry. Immediate. Exhausted.

He hesitated. “Not the cupids?”.

“…Not just them,” she didn’t look up as she added, which wasn’t exactly reassuring, her frustration palpable.

Excellent. Brilliant. Great.

Then she reached into her coat and dropped a ivory cards on the table like they were cursed runes. Elegant, handwritten. Gold-inked. Dripping with bad news.

He squinted. “Okay. More guests. Big event. Extra effort. We knew this. Elijah’s been shouting about it like a pageant mom on espresso—”

“Flip them over,” she said, face still buried in the desk. if Merv didnt knew Lucienne he would say that she was also tapping her forehead against it. But no, he knew Lucienne.

He flipped the first.

Then the second.

The third.

Then the fourth.

Then he stopped breathing.

“Shit.”

Four cards. Four names.

Confirmed attendance.

All of them, ALL OF THEM, former mistresses of Lord Morpheus.

“What the fuck—”

“I don’t know!” Lucienne snapped, voice tight enough to cut steel.

Elijah had said Lady Love wanted the Solstice to be grand—so grand even those with ill will toward her or Dream would be forced to witness the Dreaming’s glory. She would force the doubters to applaud.A political move. Smart. Strategic. Show them everything’s fine. Prosperous. No need for whispered coups or undermining Dream’s position just because of a century-old scandal with imprisonment by mortals.

Lucienne knew Eoster was cunning, yes—but never invites to Lord Dream’s exes?

This was not optics. This was chaos with a dress code.

“When—” Mervyn started.

“I don’t know.”

“But why—”

“Merv.”

Silence.

“Sorry,” he muttered. Beat. “This is a disaster.”

And that was putting it kindly. Lucifer showing up unannounced with the full Court of Hell would’ve been less stressful. At least then there’d be protocol.

Elijah had made it very clear from the beginning: “We need to keep Lady Love’s thoughts light. If she succumbs to sorrow or spite, spring may fail to bloom in the mortal realm. And the consequences—” he trailed off, as only a Cupid could, when imagining a world left without renewal. Mortals stuck in a metaphorical and ecological emotional spiral.

Now?

They’d invited her husband’s entire romantic trauma file to dinner.

“She’s going to lose it,” Mervyn muttered. “Your stuck-up friend’s gonna shit his divine pants.”

“If you mean the duelists,” came Matthew’s voice as he flapped into the room and landed on the table, “forget it. They’ve moved on. The bosslady’s maids are the new objects of desire. I heard one of them say he’d never known true beauty until he laid eyes on one of ’em—caw! It was tragic”

“Wow,” Mervyn deadpanned. “So I’m yesterday’s produce.”

“Matthew,” Lucienne cut in, brisk and bone-tired. “I have a job for you.”

She hadn’t wanted to tell Elijah. Not really. He was already wound tighter than a harp string. But if he found out at the Festival? In full view of Lady Love? Surrounded by roses and diplomats and centuries-old vendettas wrapped in sequins?

Not even Destiny could predict that fallout.

—------------------- “Good morning, my darling,” a velveteen voice floated in the air, light as the breeze rustling the pink-toned leaves outside the open windows.

Elijah did not answer. He groaned softly, turning in their vast bed of white silk and pale blush linens, groping blindly with one hand until—ah! A pillow. Perfect. He yanked it over his face with the exasperation of a man who had loved too hard, slept too little, and wanted nothing more than to melt into the soft warmth surrounding him.

The light that slipped through the garden’s stained-glass vitrals painted everything in watercolor tones—roses, orchids, and ivy trailing across their marble walls, giving the illusion that the entire bedroom bloomed. It smelled faintly of honey and lilac. Paradise with decor.

Last night’s reception still throbbed in Elijah’s temples. A palace crawling with Cupids—some curious, some suspicious, all of them nosy—each peering into corners and whispering over crystal flutes and fluffed feathers. The tension between realms, the pitying looks, the snide comments that disguised themselves as concern. He had weathered it all. Barely.

And now this?

A weight settled over him. A familiar one. The distinct pressure of thighs straddling his hips. Still dressed. Still smug. Still infuriating.

“You invaded my quarters after midnight,” came that silken, wicked voice again. “Laid in my bed and thought I’d just allow it? You foul little Cupid.” A smile tugged at the edge of Elijah’s lips—but he kept it hidden under the pillow. Sleep was a sanctuary he refused to surrender easily.

Then the voice dipped, brushing against his ear, teasing and warm: “Wake up, sweetheart.”

The shiver that rippled down Elijah’s spine betrayed him.

“Our quarters,” he muttered, muffled by down feathers and half-hearted indignation.

That earned him the sudden removal of his pillow and a flood of morning light in his face. Elijah squinted, grumbling.

“And cheeky, too,” the Emissary mused, his golden eyes glinting with amusement as he leaned down, curls like spun sugar brushing Elijah’s cheeks. He kissed him—softly, languidly, like there was nothing beyond these walls but sunlight and silk.

Gods, Elijah had missed him. Missed the scent of his skin, the warmth of him, the feel of those cruelly gentle hands that always found their way to his hair.

They kissed like lovers who didn’t owe the day a single thing.

Eventually, Elijah murmured against his mouth, “Good morning.”

The Emissary drew back, settling on his side of the bed with a stretch that should have been illegal. “That bad?” he asked, already knowing the answer. Elijah sat up slowly, the sheets falling to his lap, raking a hand through his curls. “Chaotic,” he said. “They didn’t show up to dinner. Stayed long enough at the reception to smile and wave, then vanished upstairs.”

The Emissary raised a brow. “Oh?” His voice dripped with implication

“Not what you’re thinking,” Elijah said at once, narrowing his eyes. “If you make a comment about how the Dream King skip dinner because he feasted on the Queen’s nectar, I swear to the Stars, I will drown you in rosewater.”

He could see it forming already—the sly smirk, the parted lips ready to unleash some damning innuendo.

“According to Lucienne,” Elijah pressed on before he could be interrupted, “Dream practically trampled her trying to follow Lady Love. And a dream maid told me—probably with her ear pressed to the damn door—that they had a fight. He accused her of killing the bastard. The nerve of that man.” The Emissary’s expression sobered, just slightly, as he lay back down and tugged Elijah against his chest. His fingers immediately slid into Elijah’s curls, tracing them with reverent affection. “They’re like cat and mouse in an endless maze,” he said. “Every time I think they’re going to find their way out… they switch roles and start the chase again.”

“I have to hand it to Lady/Lord Desire.” The Emissary shrugged “Who would thought that to arrange for Dream’s demise they didn’t need to make faulty bets, and elaborate schemes involving mortals, all they need it was to give him in a silver tray the perfect match in a suffocating circumstance and just leave it to him to ruin it”

‘A rat will chew off its own tail to escape the heat’ the Emissary thought about the words Desire whispered scented with rose and blood and a wicked smile, before sending the Emissary as a gift to Love. Those words always stayed with the golden eyed man.

“Poor Lady Love,” Elijah said, voice barely above a whisper. “She adored Desire. They were so close once. What did she ever do to Lady/Lord Desire to deserve this?”

The Emissary didn’t flinch. He just breathed, slow and even, like someone who’s seen the world end more than once and stopped bothering to argue with it.

“Nothing,” he replied. “That’s the cruel part. She was a pawn. Easy to manipulate. Desire wanted to humiliate her—not because she wronged them, but because it was fun.”

Elijah’s expression tightened. He didn’t need the rest, but he let him continue.

“Playing with Eoster was like tossing scraps to a stray dog desperate for affection. Desire encouraged her. Then dismissed her. Showed the universe how the Queen of Love herself could be betrayed by the very thing she championed. Love, to Desire, is childish. Laughable. They see it as a lie mortals keep telling themselves—one they tell loudest when they’re alone.” The Emissary paused. Then, with the sharpness of someone laying bare an unpleasant truth:

“Love and Desire don’t always walk together. You know that. Mortals have started to idolize love—idealize it. Worship it. Desire hated that. They already felt Dream looked down on them. They wouldn’t be patronized by Love too. So when the chance came to bind those two—Dream and Love—into a forced union? That was the sweetest revenge. A way to wound them both. That’s how Desire saw it. That’s how they are.”

A silence stretched between them, heavy with memory and consequence.

Then Elijah’s voice, soft and sudden:

“Is that what I am to you? Also a pawn in your micro-schemes?”

The Emissary smiled, that maddening, too-honest smile.

“Yes. The most handsome and anxious pawn in all the Garden.”

“You are insufferable,” Elijah muttered, rolling his eyes—but the laugh came anyway, bright and small. Until a sharp memory hit him like a migraine, and he collapsed backward onto the pillows with a groan.

“The Court returns after the Solstice. I need you to prepare the palace and—”

“—and Lady Love is also returning,” the Emissary finished for him, already halfway across the room, fingers brushing through silk scrolls stacked by the window. “Permanently, this time. I’ll send a note to Desire: All is well and miserable.”

Elijah snorted, even as the ache behind his eyes pulsed. It was tragic. It was failure. And yet somehow, still ridiculous. Still themselves.

“Am I a terrible Cupid?” he asked suddenly. “Did I fail her?”

The Emissary turned. His answer came without hesitation: “Do you remember Henry VIII?”

Elijah groaned into a pillow. “That was a miscommunication.”

“You told his mistress to wear yellow the day after her predecessor was beheaded.”

“I thought it symbolized joy!”

“To the Tudors, it symbolized betrayal. Or celebration of death. Either way, it was a bold choice.”

The Cupid rolled his eyes, though his smile lingered. The familiar banter was a balm. And yet, somewhere beneath it, something fragile and painful pulsed.

“You didn’t fail Lady Love,” the Emissary added, softer now. “Your terrible suggestions didn’t help, of course.”

“You really do make me feel better,” Elijah deadpanned. “Did you know that?”

“Oh, but terrible isn’t my opinion. It’s common sense.” The Emissary crossed his arms. “Besides, even if you’d used Anteros’s last carved arrows and shot them straight into their hearts, it wouldn’t have worked. Lack of love isn’t the problem.”

At the name Anteros, something shifted in Elijah’s face. The first Cupid. The master. His mentor, if screaming and threats counted as mentorship. His arrows were sacred— flawless, one touch on the flesh, instant love. Dangerous.

Anteros’s last words to Elijah echoed through his memory like a dagger wrapped in silk:

“Next time you even breathe near an arrow, I’ll be dead. Because it’ll take my corpse to stop you from embarrassing the order further.”

It was, admittedly, the moment Elijah decided field work might not be his calling.

“Dream is the problem,” Elijah muttered now, bitterness creeping into his voice.

The Emissary tilted his head. “Maybe once. Now? They both orbit pain like it’s gravity. Addicted to causing it. Addicted to feeling it.”

Elijah looked away. That was the part he couldn’t forgive. The part he hated discussing it. Not the heartbreak. Not even the manipulation. But the addiction to cruelty. Broken love. Rotting affection. A deviation of love, mixed with other emotions. No longer simple, no longer beautiful, no longer pure. There was an special division of highly accomplished Cupids that care for them. It was an unforgiving territory that Elijah preferred never to look at it. Love, to Elijah, was the only holy thing left. And broken love couldn’t be further from holy.

“Maybe we should arrange a small soirée,” he said abruptly, voice rising in pitch. “Music. Candles. Something gentle to lift her spirits. Otherwise we’re going to be facing torrential emotional storms, and I—”

“Elijah,” the Emissary interrupted gently.

“Okay, not a full soirée. She’ll be tired. Maybe just the protégés—keep it intimate. Harps. No brass.”

“Elijah.”

He didn’t stop. Couldn’t.

“We could invite the queen’s sister, maybe? Well not Happiness but—”

“Elijah.” This time, firmer.

The Cupid fell silent, lips trembling. He knew what the Emissary was about to say. He just didn’t want to hear it. Not now. Not in this soft hour where the light still looked golden and the sheets still smelled of lavender and hope.

“What do you want me to do?” Elijah whispered, voice cracking. “Just sit and watch her cry? Like he did? Like all of them did?”

The Emissary didn't answer. He didn't have to.

Because just then, as if summoned by that very ache—

“My love,” the Emissary said, blinking slowly, gaze fixed past Elijah’s shoulder, “why is there a raven in our room staring at us?”

“A what, a—AH!” Elijah’s confusion evaporated as soon as he followed the Emissary’s eyes to the raven now cawing atop a drawer.

“Lucienne told me I’d find you here. Greetings, you…” The bird tilted his head in a half-bow toward the golden-eyed being.

“The Emissary,” the gold-eyed man replied smoothly, already rising and pulling on a silk robe that seemed far too luxurious for someone who claimed to hate comfort. He crossed his arms over his chest, head tilted with theatrical menace. “At your service, raven. Preferences? I could impale you now and boil you after, or boil you first, then impale you. I’m terribly accommodating.”

Matthew let out a sharp caw and flapped nervously to the top of the wardrobe, already regretting his decision to fly in. “What?! Elijah! A little help here, maybe?!”

“Stop! He’s his raven.” The way Elijah bit into that his, Matthew instantly knew who he meant. Dream. Obviously.

“Dream's feathered voyeur. How charming. Nothing like starting your day with a dose of paranoia.” The Emissary didn’t stop staring. Predatory. Playful. Planning.

“Are you mad?! If you boil Morpheus’s raven, he’ll boil us alive.”

“I could fry him if our King prefers it,” the Emissary offered, turning to Elijah with a familiar grin. “ At least he will go to the Sunless Lands having the privilege of seeing me like this first thing in the morning. Do you know how many mortals would commit crimes for this sight raven?” the Emissary winked, running a hand through his tousled curls, now starting to shine golden under the morning sun.

Elijah slapped his chest. Oh that insufrible ego “Stop! He’s jesting,” He said to Matthew, and then to the Emissary, with a look. “Also, raven meat is dry.”

Matthew’s pupils, somehow even darker than before, dilated. “What do you want, bird?” Elijah huffed, his anxiety rising from irritated to full-blown derailed.

“Lucienne’s calling. She needs you.”

The Emissary quirked a brow at Elijah. “Oh, so she’s your boss now?”

“I’m not going over there just because she doesn’t know the difference between a tulip and a rose,” Elijah muttered, collapsing back into the pillows.

“Uh… that’s not it.”

“If this is about napkin colors again—”

“It’s the confirmations,” Matthew cut in.

“What about them?” Elijah sat up, already bracing for impact.

“It’s… better if you speak to her directly,” the raven said cautiously.

“Bird, you better start cawing in plain English or I will boil you.”

“It’s rather… delicate.”

“Bird.”

“You might want to take a deep breath.”

“SPIT IT OUT, RAVEN!”

Matthew flinched. “A bunch of ladies that Dream used to… well, you know, visit… confirmed their attendance to the Solstice. Lucienne wants to know if you invited them.”

Silence. Absolute stillness. Then:

“Oh shit.” Elijah whispered, pale as death.

“Is he okay?” Matthew turned to the Emissary.

“I think you broke him,” the Emissary said cheerfully.

“How many?” Elijah asked, voice barely audible.

“Ah, he lives,” the Emissary said, as if narrating a resurrection.

“Not many, really, we could probably divert them and—”

“HOW. MANY?!”

“Four!” Matthew squealed.

“…The bastard’s mother?” Elijah was laser-focused now.

“Who?”

“The bas—Calliope, bird, the muse!”

“I saw a bunch of weird names, but not that one,” Matthew said, as he remembered peeking over Lucienne’s cards.

“Coward,” the Emissary muttered under his breath.

“Class,” Elijah said, recovering just enough to look judgmental. “Something those other ladies forgot. Etiquette is truly dead.” the Cupid leaped out of bed with the elegance of a startled deer. He grabbed the nearest tunic—rose-colored, embroidered, absolutely Cupid-coded—and started putting it on inside-out.

“You’re defending the muse?” the Emissary blinked, genuinely amused.

“She did one thing right her entire existence. I’m not about to discourage a rare show of dignity.”

“The boss has a kid?” Matthew asked, incredulous.

“Raven! I do not have time for your stunning ignorance,” Elijah snapped. “Your boss—who you apparently know nothing about—had mistresses all over the realms and knocked up a Muse. Didn't even have the decency to make her get rid of it or hide it in some pocket dimension. And Lady Love didn’t tear the universe apart because she doesn’t want to become her sisters—who, by the way, do kill and torture their husband’s side pieces and bastard children for fun.”

“Lady Eoster prefers the quiet melancholy of sobbing on balcony railings or silk-drenched sheets,” the Emissary added helpfully. “And the bottom of a bottle of wine. Very regal.”

“Emissary!” Elijah snapped.

“Go back to the Dreaming. Sort this with Lucienne,” the Emissary said, noting the panic flickering behind Elijah’s eyes.

“Solve what? It’s a disaster!”

“You know what to do, dear Cupid. Distract. Divide. Keep Lady Love and Lord Morpheus as far from the mistresses as possible. The palace is vast. Guests from every corner of the universe. Keep them separated.” The Emissary responded sobered and calmly, planting a kiss on the corner of Elijah’s mouth, fixing the Cupids coat, before looking into those anxious eyes.

Elijah sighed, narrowing his eyes. “Knowing my luck, one of these women are going to walk into Lady Love’s dressing room and go, ‘Oh Love, I just wanted to see if the crown fits me better. You know, since you won’t be around, and won't need these things. Could I see your wedding trousseau? ’”

The visuals alone were enough to send Elijah into full-blown spiraling. He looked around the room like it was shrinking.

“You look like a fairy tale ran into a storm,” the Emissary commented diverging from the subject, opening a reassuring smile and lazily tying the Cupid's coat tighter. “Which I suppose is fitting.”

“And you look like sin in a silk wrapper,” Elijah threw back, but with too much fondness in his voice to make it an actual insult.

And next thing you saw, they parted their ways. Elijah back to the Dreaming, his foot heavy on the floor of the Dreaming Palace, looking almost as if he was having a panic attack. He might actually be having one. One could not ignore that possibility.

“So you two,” Matthew interjected into the rising chaos.

Elijah turned sharply. “One word to your lord, or anyone, and I swear I’ll make sure the loose-tongued raven is the entrée.”

He lunged, faster than any mortal thing should move, grabbing Matthew with just enough force to scare the feathers off him.

And deep down, Elijah knew why he was panicking. If Morpheus even suspected that Desire’s creature was living freely in Love’s palace for centuries…

Well.

The worst hadn’t even begun.

—------------------------------------

“It is difficult, my dears, to always remember. Some days, you will question yourselves in private, wondering if any of it is real, or just social fabrications and excuses that you’ve crafted, feeling ensnared by your own spell. That is the purpose of these books.”

The ballroom of the palace was bathed in a soft blue light, the kind that seemed to filter through glass windows, as if the very sky itself had been woven into the walls. Youthful figures sat in circle in confortable tapestry and pillows across the floor, dressed in elaborate gowns and perfectly tailored coats.

Love strolled, looking at the protégés, their eyes sparkled with dreams of the future, their hearts light as the air surrounding them. They knew nothing of sorrow, nothing of the shadows that weighed heavy on some hearts. Eoster hoped they could continue like this forever, even if it was a foolish wish.

She held an example of a Book of Love. “They are written with every love a being faces in their life. A mother’s love, a spiritual enlightenment, the trust of a friend, the touch of a lover. In their purest form, they are written. They exist to preserve our fleeting memories, which so often betray us after a few centuries, the sigil of our victories, and our inspiration during the darkest days.”

She took a deep breath. “I’ve had my darkest days, as most of you may recall. Cloudy days, with relentless storms at the Garden. Any cupid who came near me had their eyes filled with tears. It affected me—my creations, my springs—they became dull, less fruitful, and not as vibrant as before. Irregular. But even in my darkest moments, a walk through my library, opening a random page from a random mortal, would fill my heart. The contents of it made the impossible possible. They kept me going—for them, for my duty. Yes, the springs were no longer as magnificent as before, but they still existed for my creations, for mortals, and for anyone who believed in love. Because, even in our darkest days, it is our duty as bearers of the four loves, to give and to teach. It’s not an easy burden, nor a simple one. But then, you are not simple beings with weak hearts.”

She flashed a knowing smile before clasping her hands together. “Now, let’s get to the fun part. As you know, the Spring Rabbit’s last visit was five hundred years ago, when he blessed us with a splendid spring. It’s now a tradition that the cupids born in the year the Spring Rabbit appears are gifted with a unique ability—to prepare sweets that summon the Spring Rabbit’s helpers. Just as I have my cupids, the Spring Rabbit has his helpers.”

Three cupids entered, dressed in light pink 18th-century attire. They placed cookies in shape of hearts with a vibrant red glaze on top, put on the floor, evenly spaced, half the number of protégés. “The helpers,” Love continued, “assist my protégés in matching their dance partners for the final grand dance before your graduation. The one chosen for you may not be clear right now, but trust me—the red eyes of these rabbits see more than my own judgment ever could. Your dance partner will forever be a friend and advisor, offering you perspectives you could not see before. It is my gift to you: to never feel alone.”

As the cupids left, not before bowing to the queen, the protégés quickly got up their laughter and chatter filled the air, bright, carefree, and full of life, but eyes glued to the doors and windows for the rabbits. However, as usual, they saw nothing until feeling the sudden pushes on their skirts and pants, guiding them in the right direction. The creatures were too fast to be seen—at best, a glimpse of their feet. But just as swiftly as they had appeared and disappeared, the cookies were gone, and the matches were made.

Love clapped twice, and music filled the air, signaling the start of practice. It was an innocent, light ceremony—one she had witnessed a thousand times, yet it still lifted her mood. Or it used to.

She watched, absorbed in the motion around her, but Love knew—knew deep down—that she was distant. It was a kind of solitude she carried with grace, a burden she bore, unseen by the merry crowd, maybe perhaps only perceptible to Elijah, that, thankfully, was not there.

The Queen kept smiling at the partners trying to find their rhythm, some quickly then the others, and others with a lot more stepping in each other feet. But she felt in her spine, in every pore of her skin, the moment he arrived. Perhaps even before, the moment he thought about finding her

Morpheus, in turn, gazed at her as he walked across the never-before-used ballroom. the youthful proteges spent enough time with the Cupids to learn how to pretend to ignore even if they followed each step the dream king gave until standing in front of the queen. Even if Eoster hadn’t acknowledge even his entrance, he knew that bond or not she was aware of his closeness. He knew her enough —her subtle sighs, the way she clenched her fists when holding back emotion, the way her lips would curve just so when frustration flickered.

“May I sit?” Morpheus’s voice was calm, but there was a quiet urgency beneath it. She was still confused, and a bit embarrassed by the way their argument went in the night before. But there they were in public in front of her proteges. Politness must be conceived.

“My lord.”, Her false startled hand flying to her heart. As the weakest attempt to pretended to be caught by surprise “As you wish.” She pointed to the seat near her, where one of the proteges was previous sat. But turned her face to the front. She was praying he would not wanted to return to their discussion. As to avoid any further thought. Love cut him before he even could begin. “I am afraid I do not have time for an audience,” Love replied, a brief flicker of anxiety crossing her face. “Two days to the spring solstice and there is much to be done.” She flicking open her handfan, barely moving it, signaling him that she did not wanted to talk, facing the dancing proteges that were doing an explendid job in avoiding the couple, “It is of the most urgent need to be discussed now” he insisted.

After a moment’s hesitation, Love nodded. “Of course, if it is your wish.” She closed her fan in an obvious gesture of annoyance. Not that she was. She was curious in what he needed to discuss. Or knowing her husband, he speaks and she quietly listened.

Morpheus stepped forward, his gaze softer than usual, yet his voice carried the weight of something long unsaid. “I ask for your forgiveness—for my pitiful attempts to woo you, for trying to win your love when it only caused you pain.”

“And I pray you did not come for it again. It is starting to sound a bit pitful and repetitive” Love signed in boredom, her gaze fixed ahead. She was cold, yes, like her sisters. The same blasé tone, as his attempt was an embarrassment for both of them.

He ignored her. “I promised myself that after my imprisonment, I would minimize the damage. I wanted to be the reason for your smiles, not your tears. But I failed to understand you.” He took a deep breath “ the damage our marriage caused you...”

“Irreparable,” Love finished for him. Decisive. Not open for any discussion for questioning. “Our marriage was a joke. Or a trap as you like to put it. It was born dead. Fabricated on lies, and structured on cruelty.”

Morpheus nodded. “It never had a chance.”

“But that it did.” she added.” But you squandered it.” He wanted to interrupt her to tell that he didn’t take her for a fool, never. “I was naive when we married yes. But I have been overseeing marriages since the primordial days. I knew that arranged marriages rarely worked for love. Most of the times it turns into transaction or abuse and led to unhappiness, loneliness, affairs. Ours had a tiny chance to blossom, it needed effort. Mine was not enough, as seeds in a fertile land are not enough to make spring. “

He nodded “ But we cannot erase the past.”

Love’s heart ached as she gazed at him. “No... we cannot.”

“ I am not in a position to beg or bargain. But I still can offer something to you” Morpheus continued, his voice steady now, though tinged with uncertainty. Love continued silent. Could rain make any difference to a soil that is dry and dead?

“Amicability,” Morpheus said quietly. “It may not be the great passion you once hoped for, nor the love you once dreamed of, but I will do everything I can to ensure you no longer suffer. I will ensure that you have peace in this arrangement.”

“Amicability?” Love repeated, her brow furrowing as she considered his words, her fingers, delicate as they were, trembled slightly as she lowered them to her side. She inhaled deeply, trying to steady herself before looking directly at Morpheus.

“You will leave as you wish to the Garden. but I won’t forbide you to come to the Dreaming. This is your realm as the Garden. The people like you. You never have to see me again if that is your wish. I won’t oblige you to any family dinner, but if you need me to socials, to avoid the gossips, if you care for them, I will go at your request.

“And you?”

“I will stay at the Dreaming, continue my work, your path will be free.”

“Free.” her voice tinged with sorrow as the weight of the past bore heavily upon her. He knows. She dreamed of everything he failed in giving her, and made all her nightmares true. King of nightmares indeed. “ I never dreamed our path would lead to such darkness. Amicability... it sounds peaceful. Stable. Quiet. Is that enough for you?” Her eyes, though seeking reassurance, held a quiet challenge beneath the surface, as if testing the sincerity of his words—testing whether the man who once tore at her heart with jealousy, with possessiveness, had truly transformed.

Love didn’t know if he was understanding the stand of his proposal. He was proposing something less than friendship. He was proposing respectful nods while crossing a hallway if they would ever cross one again. A kind of severance worse than when he banned her. They wouldn’t be husband and wife in a complicated quarrel, they would be co-workers. No, workers at the same company. Different branches.

Why that sounded more like a punishment than resolution? Why did she felt that way, if that was something she craved for centuries?

Morpheus stood before her, his presence heavier than the centuries they had endured apart. His voice, though steady, carried the weight of a truth long concealed. "It will be. More than enough. If not a tear of you falls again because of me, then it shall be more than enough. It will be a gift for me." Love’s eyes, deep pools of hurt and longing, met his gaze, but they flickered with uncertainty. "A gift, yes, but from me wouldn’t it? A path free for you to bed and root seed without an ounce of guilt if you ever had one" Her words were measured, but each syllable carried the echo of memories—of the countless times she had seen him in the arms of others, his attentions a cruel mockery of the love she had given him so freely. Calliope, of all people, the one he had betrayed in such a visceral way, had left a mark on her heart. The child they had sired was the lingering reminder of his transgressions, and Love knew, all too well, how it had wounded her.

"My queen," Morpheus answered, his voice now soft, almost tender. "I promise you, you will not shed a tear anymore. Not an ounce of embarrassment. I do not wish to cross that path again, but you are free to follow it." His gaze held a sincerity that seemed to melt the years of pain between them. Love nodded slowly, yet the question lingered, a silent test to gauge the true depth of his feelings. "So I shall take lovers?" she asked, her words not spoken out of want, but rather as a challenge, a test of the man he had become. She could still feel the fire of his jealousy from that night when she had danced with his brother, the weight of his gaze upon her like an invisible chain. It was a cruelty she had borne, but in that cruelty, she had glimpsed the fragility of his love for her.

Morpheus hesitated, the shadow of his past mistakes passing over his face. "I am not the one in position to establish the rules." His voice, though calm, trembled slightly at the edges. He had no right to dictate what she should do, not after all he had done to her.

Love's breath caught in her throat, and she looked at him with a rawness he had not seen before, her heart torn between the desire to forgive and the fear of the pain his love might bring once more.

"My lady," he began, his eyes searching hers as if trying to find a way to make amends for the years of hurt. "A smile on your lips, and your soul—" He faltered, swallowing the lump in his throat. "Even if not by my doing, I will be devoted to preserve them for the rest of my Endless existence." His words were not just a promise but a vow, one that he had failed to keep for far too long.

“Very well, I will consider your terms under one condition”

“Anything”

“You shall come to the Garden of Lovers. Children need their father as their mother. You are stranged to them, but you are their king, and need to take the responsibility of it not only the title. As I did with the Dreaming. You shall do it to the Garden.”

“Agree” Neither of them realizes the music long stopped, the rabbits and the protégés scattered. They kept looking at each other. There was eager, regret, lust and pain, an ocean of words lost in his eyes searching for harbor and safe land in hers.

He had broken her, time and time again. Morpheus got good at it. She got addicted to being broke, to the pain that only him could cause. She knew getting in every fight with him would end up hurting only her. She knew how to provoke him, how to twist the knife, even when she knew it would be her own heart that bled. Eoster got good at it.

And mortals got fucked up nightmares full of existential angst, questioning everything—love, faith, friendships—severing ties, tearing apart their worlds. Maybe that was how things worked. But not here, not between them. Here, there was no one to intervene in the war between Dream and Love. No one to stop them from going down the same old road. And they both knew it.

They could turn to normalcy now, if they chose. Just like the night before, they could retreat to their cycles—he to his berating, she to her clutching around the pain. To have that taste. But somehow, it didn't feel like enough anymore. Not when everything was broken. In their heads, they knew a thousand and one ways to hurt each other—and how to sit with the silence that came after. They had grown used to the sorrow, as if it were part of the love itself.

She knew the silence that always came next, the ache settling just beneath her ribs like something she'd carried for years. And still, some part of her held onto it—because pain meant feeling, and feeling meant he was still there.

He, in turn, recognized the shift in her gaze before it even came. He’d memorized the cracks in her voice, the way she pulled away just enough to remind him she could. They both knew how to wound and how to survive it. The pain had become a rhythm between them—quiet, constant, almost tender. It lingered like a thread still tying them together. Perhaps that was the nature of their bond.

Why couldn’t you see me sooner?” she whispered, so quietly she wasn’t sure if she had spoken aloud or if it was the bond echoing her grief. Her voice trembled as she went on, barely more than a breath. “I waited… for so long. For you to see me. Truly see me”

Morpheus looked at her, and in that moment, the weight of time collapsed in his chest. Every missed glance, every swallowed word, every tenderness he had denied her—they all came rushing in, bitter and sharp. “I see you now” he said, gently. It was all he had to offer. A truth too late. A promise without time. They stood there for a moment longer, suspended in the stillness they had both feared and needed. No more words. Nothing left to explain. They had reached the end of something that had never truly begun.

Then, by some force greater than desire, he reached out—just barely—and brushed his fingers against hers, soft as a memory, and in that brief touch there was everything they had never allowed themselves to have.

She smiled, and it was the kind of smile meant for endings—soft, sad, and full of something almost like peace.

Then maybe,” she said, “that’s enough.”

As she walked away, the air between them shifted—emptier, yes, but not cold.

And maybe that was all they could have now.

@secretdreamlandmentality @littlemoistcarrot @lokigirlszendaya @notyourwildestdream @roxytheimmortal @your-favorite-god

@damnitmaddie

[writing-for-life]

The Pillars of Creation

Chapter One has landed and I'm scared...

Finally, finally I got there. I've just published the first chapter of "The Pillars of Creation", the sequel to "The Light of Stars" (you'll need an Ao3 account for TLoS. New chapters on Pillars are currently still unlocked, but they won't stay so forever).

I'll try to publish new chapters on Wednesdays from here onward and will also create a masterlist again once more chapters have landed. I'll see how the snippet posting on here goes (last time, I gave up on it eventually, but we'll see).

The prologue is identical to the epilogue of TLoS, which was a mix of comics- and original material to fuse the two for what lies ahead. I thought posting it again as the opener made sense for a million reasons, not least so those of you who've read previously can jog their memory a bit.

If you haven't read "The Light of Stars", I'd strongly recommend starting with that one because "The Pillars of Creation" truly is a sequel, and a lot of nuance will otherwise be lost on you. Here we go...

Chapter One: Prologue

Dream felt it before he heard the griffin’s voice. Which was no surprise because at the end of the day, even the gatekeepers of the castle were his substance.

“My lord, we have captured an intruder.”

“So?”

“She claims to be your sister.”

He knew it never boded well if one of his siblings entered his realm more or less unannounced, and his intuition about this visit wasn’t any different.

When he arrived at the steps to the palace, the scene that presented itself brought out a chuckle, which made the hippogriff look at him with countless questions in its eyes.

His sister was hanging from the wyvern’s mouth, obviously not fazed in the slightest and rather enjoying herself, making noises like a very excited kid on a swing. But then again, she was Delirium, so it was to be expected.

The creature tried to speak without dropping her. “She said she was your sister.”

“She is my sister. Put her down.” He bit his lip in amusement. “Gently.”

“My lady, I must apologise. Had I but known, I…” the wyvern stammered.

“It’s okay. I mean, I liked it. It was like Disneyland,” Delirium babbled. She kissed the wyvern. “I really liked the swinging bit.”

And as much as Dream had to admit to himself that he was partly amused and partly… happy to see his sister, the slight discomfort at her appearance would not leave him alone.

“Delirium, what are you doing here?”

“I came to see you. I mean, I wanted to talk, too, not just see.” She looked almost shy.

“Why didn’t you call me? You have a gallery.” A slightly reprimanding tone had crept in out of old habit.

“I didn’t want to. If I called and you said no, then that would mean you wouldn’t talk to me. And the last time I called you, you said no. And the time before that. So I thought you probably didn’t want to talk to… me. So I thought if I just turned up, then…” She looked at him with pleading eyes. “Please don’t make me go away.”

And although his expression softened again, he was still wary. “Is this formal family business, sister?”

“Oh yes. I think. I mean kind of. Mostly. Maybe…”

“Then I think my gallery might well be the best place to conduct discussions, don’t you?”

She shrugged her shoulders. “Whatever.”

Keep on reading on Ao3

[justjams2003]

The Desire to be Loved

Summary: Love is Desire's first creation. As Cupid she shoots her arrows of love and rips them from people's hearts too. Occasionally, shooting a soulmate arrow. What does she do when her first Soulmate arrow in 100 years is between Cupid and Dream?

Part 1

Part 2

Part 3

Part 4

Part 5

Part 6

Part 7

[writerdream22]

Hey ^^ I saw your requests were open, so I was wondering if I could ask for a Morpheus x reader who has maladaptive daydreaming (if that’s okay with you, ofc). I wonder how he would react and/or help reader?

Hi Anon, of course!

I will start working on your request as soon as I can! ✨🌻💛

[daincrediblegg]

Think it’d be really cute that when Dream has a crush and he’s like tryina flex that he’ll like recite you a shakespearian sonnet or a romantic or gothic poem and when he’s done he’s like “I helped! 🥰” like he’s low-key nerdy about it and super tries to hide it waiting to see if you appreciate it but fucking low-key BEAMS when you do and want to talk analysis of this stuff with him

[dreamdaddymorpheus]

Fire on Fire | chapter. 02 | Morpheus x Scarlet Witch!Reader

Pairing: Morpheus x Scarlet Witch!Reader (she/her) Summary: The Lord of Dreams falling in love with a being capable of spontaneous creation – what could possibly go wrong? Note: You are not Wanda Maximoff. You’re just you who happens to be the Scarlet Witch and all that entails. previous chapter: chapter. 01 | A/N: no beta we die like jessamy

Dream of the Endless stood outside a quaint red brick house on a quiet street at the edge of a small village not too far from London. Ordinary and terribly common, blending in with the rest of the houses on either side of it and even the ones across. Why would his search lead him here?

A flashing image in his mind’s eye had him sucking in a sharp breath – an image of you and a dull stranger living out your lives in such an unremarkable home, in domesticated bliss – with a dog perhaps? Or a few offspring? His face darkened at the implication of that thought.

“Cursed they be who would dare to tear us asunder.” He recalled the vow he made to you – one he fully intends to keep.

Morpheus followed the stone path dotted on the ground leading up to the red door atop a small set of steps. Millenniums of courtly etiquette compelled him to knock out of instinct and by the time he realized what he’d done it was too late. So – he waited.

“Darling, is that you?” A bout of relief and horror washed over him in equal measure at the familiar ring of your voice. Relief for the rather joyful colour in your tone. Horror for the heart-rending realization that you had moved on as he feared – with the dull stranger so beneath him, so beneath you.

The Lord of Dreams considered turning back, retreat to his realm where he could lick his wounds and nurse his pride. Just as he took a step back, however, the red door swung open to unveil a face he hungered for all these years. He felt his eyes sting then.

Your face scrunched in concern, reaching out to cup the side of his face, tenderly stroking the damp skin there, “Hey…” you cooed, eyes roving over his tearful face, “Come inside and tell me what happened.”

Morpheus felt his body move along with you in a trance-like state, eyes glassy and vulnerable. The only feeling was the burning warmth of your hand in his as you led him through the corridor and into a homely kitchen bespeckled with hints of you –  from the mismatched mugs seen through the glass window of your cupboard to the opened copy of The Hobbit by J.R.R Tolkien laid out on the table by the window with the dark green curtains.

You sit him down at the table before taking your place across from him, hands still interlocked, “Speak to me, my love.”

It was here that Morpheus observed something amiss. So overcome was he by his loss of you and the natural way in which you held him so sweetly that he unconsciously turned a blind eye to the glaring fact that you have not seen him for a century.

This was most certainly you. He had no doubt of it. That only baffles him further, however.

“Morpheus?”

“How…” He started aimlessly, unsure where to go from here, “How can you be…” His free hand gestured towards you, “…like this – after what I’ve done?”

The corner of your lips quirked up in a mixture of confusion and amusement, “What are you talking about? And what have you done, my love?”

“I abandoned you!” He exclaimed with a tortured heart as his hand held in yours swiftly retreated back to his side,  “I—” before he could go off on a tangent of self-hatred, he noticed the swirls of red in your eyes. Oh.

“Oh, Y/N, what have you done?”

Your eyes narrowed then, full of suspicion and distrust. You rose from your seat at the table and added some distance between you and the Dream Lord, “You are not my Dream.” You stated, calm and absolute in your claim. One hand by your side shaped an orb of red energy into being with tendrils of loose magic curling between your fingers, “Is that you, Desire? Have you come to torment us again?”

Morpheus moved to stand slowly and carefully, hands held out in front of him as if in surrender, “It is I, my sweet, your Sandman,” He implored cajolingly, “You must let me hel—” He felt an immediate tightness on his throat, your magic reaching out for his neck for an unfaltering grip. His hands clawed at nothing while keeping his eyes steadfastly locked to yours. “I—I wo—uld ne…er—” despite the struggle, Morpheus persevered, “—lie…to you.” His eyes watered from the pressure of your magic, “Lo—ok…inside.”

 You understood what he meant, and it threatened your resolve.

Morpheus felt the invasion not long after, flipping through his memories and every thought he has ever had. Sometimes he would feel you pause at some– like the stunt in the throne room after a verbal foreplay gone too far; then you moved to the tender moment in a hidden alcove in his library, his head on your lap as you read to him the story of one Elizabeth Bennet and Fitzwilliam Darcy; then to the evening of your first fight, when jealousy got the better of him.

As you ransacked his mind it gave Morpheus an opening to enter yours and there he saw your life for the last hundred years. He saw you beg Death, made whatever promises you thought would appease the Endless enough to bring you to him. He saw his beloved sister turn you away. He watched Desire took his form to twist your longing for your Dream Lord. He watched you fall to your knees when it finally dawned on you that he was never coming back. He watched as your magic fully engulfed your being and manifested this delusion you have imprisoned yourself in.

He felt the pressure leave his throat and his hands landed right on the table to support his physical form from keeling over. He raised his head to look at you piece the pieces together – watching as your face shift from confusion to utter devastation. As if the feeling of abandonment for a hundred years rushed to you all at once.

“I’m sorry. I’m so sorry.” You chanted like a prayer, knees buckling until they hit the tiled floor, your hands clutching your aching heart, “I—I didn’t mean to—I’m sorry.” You could only sob.

Your Dream moved around the table to approach you without hesitation, falling to his knees in front of you to drown you in his embrace, “No, my love,” He cooed, his fingers brushing through your hair, “I’m sorry.”

“Cursed they be who would dare to tear us asunder.” Here, with you in his arms, he vowed anew.

special thanks to @thegreatestsandwich for the prompt! tag list: @lenasvoid | @iwantagoodstorytoread | @whocaresinlifeife | @starsleeping-m | @secretsthathauntus | @shitpostrandomness | @leighanne03 | @strugsto-func | @lol-im-done | @kittycatcait2 | @imissyoudarling | @toastedside | @blue-and-yellow-jjk-pjm | @mysticalpandora | @blueeclipsepaperstudent | scratched out urls means I couldn't tag you for some reason, sorry!

[ohraicodoll]

Interwoven | Chapter 5

Chapters:  5/6 Fandom:  The Sandman (Comics & TV 2022) Rating:  Mature/Explicit Relationships:  Dream of the Endless | Morpheus/Original Female Character, Dream/Reader Characters:  Dream of the Endless | Morpheus, Original Female Character, Hob Gadling, Original Characters, Matthew the Raven, Lucienne, Calliope, Mervyn Pumpkinhead, Calliope, The Endless, Eve, Delirium, Death, Desire Warnings: 18+ Minors DNI, Explicit Sexual Content, Past Abuse, Abusive Relationships, Possessive Behavior, Domestic Abuse, Domestic Violence, Jealousy, Trauma Responses Tags: Character Development, Established Relationships, General complicated feelings, meeting the family, meeting the friends, talk about fantasies, domestic life, fluff, past Relationships, ANGST, OFC: Dahlia, Named Reader, 1st POV

Summary: She had very few people in her life and while he denied it, Dream had so many. People that cared for him, people that warned her. Or in other terms, Dream and Dahlia’s casual relationship is turning not so casual. Chapter Summary: The past and present collide. CHAPTER WARNING: References to Domestic Abuse, Violence, Assault, Graphic Descriptions, Trauma Depictions

4th in the Fragments Series | Read on AO3 Writing Masterlist Chapter 1 | Chapter 2 | Chapter 3 | Chapter 4 | Chapter 5 | Chapter 6 Previous in Series: Possession Next in Series: The Complications of Family Chapter 5: Calliope and-

As I often did when faced with having to have a hard conversation, I pushed it under the rug and moved on, content to let the unease stay under the surface. Fear and uncertainty won out and it wouldn’t change anything, bringing it all up. Going back to the Waking World was surprisingly difficult but life called. I had work and bills and it’s not like there was cellphone service in the Dreaming so I had to make sure Anissa or Hob weren’t blowing up my phone or freaking out that I’d disappeared. Morpheus eventually fixed that issue through…magic? I wasn’t sure, but he was able to contact people with glowing orbs so it wasn’t too much of a stretch. The orb system wouldn’t quite work for Anissa unless I wanted to spill the news of who he was or give her a heart attack so we went with making my phone reachable in the Dreaming. But life went on. Morpheus didn’t open up about his sisters though I knew something was bothering him and I didn’t bring up Alianora. It was easier to face the insecurity eating me away than the potential argument that would ensue. He was on edge, simultaneously aloof and more protective and I wasn’t sure how to approach him. The holiday months came and passed, one after the other, and time marched ever on. When most people gathered with their families, I stayed in the Dreaming with Morpheus or we’d go to Hob’s flat above the New Inn. Two family-less mortals and an Endless who didn’t seem to care for his. Dream didn’t particularly care if it was a certain holiday, I think using it as an excuse to get away and be with us. Celebrating mostly involved listening to the immortal talk, us bickering, and too much drinking, but for once the holidays didn’t feel as lonely as previous years. Anissa tried to drag me to her family gathering but I declined, not quite feeling like being an outsider and watching what I had lost. It turns out the Dreaming did seem to celebrate certain holidays, or at least some areas of it did. Abel was the main facilitator, going around and decorating furiously and getting the staff involved. Lucienne even wrote out holiday cards for the Dreaming residents. Most of them visited the Houses of Mystery and Secrets for Christmas and ice skating, the large lake nearby frozen over and the area covered in snow. Watching Merv and his Guano Gang of bats try to help hang up lights and decorate trees was particularly entertaining and even if Morpheus didn’t fully participate in all the activity, choosing to work instead, he’d joined for parts of it and stood at my side or watched Lucienne attempt to teach me to ice skate. I knew that even if he seemed disinterested, there was no way the weather in the realm magically became a winter wonderland without his help. It was a small thing, but I noticed it. And as the new year came and went, as I spent time where I could in the Dreaming and Morpheus became a more solid presence in my life, this thing between us felt like an expanding bubble. It was getting harder to ignore, harder to swallow and say we were nothing because we didn’t feel like nothing. We felt like too much. The Dreaming was feeling like home. He was feeling like home. I’d gone from being hollow and going from one empty relationship to another, desperately seeking some sort of affection after Aiden, empty and craving something to make the world less gray. Now life was magic and stories and immortals and people who genuinely cared for me. Anissa, though not his biggest fan, stopped ribbing me about Morpheus and seemed to accept him in a passive aggressive way. Though she didn’t stop giving him shit when the few times she was around him. Hob was quickly becoming a close friend and confidant, someone that understood having a secret and being tied to magic. He’d seen and experienced so much but was still full of light and kindness. Lucienne and Matthew and all of the Dreaming accepted me and seemed happy enough for me to be around. And Dream, he cared. Cared so much that it felt like I would be swallowed whole by the endless stars and sky that burned in his eyes. He hated me being away, I could tell. Each time I left the Dreaming, he seemed to cling tighter and when he would leave, he’d linger longer. I knew he was aware of the bubble growing as well, this building thing between us and I wasn’t sure how he felt. Morpheus was simultaneously desperate to have me at his side and mysteriously distant at times, doing work that he wouldn’t share or expand upon when asked. It felt like he was hiding something and I wasn’t sure how to feel. Complicated. Attached. Mine and his. Words I’d used to describe us seemed too simple now. They didn’t fit. But different words, words that lingered on my tongue when I smiled at him wide with utter abandon or felt his lips on my skin in worship, felt too big. Like I would choke on them if they left my lips. Like he’d vanish if he attempted to utter them. Thus, we stayed in limbo, too big and too small, but knowing something would change soon for better or for worse. A car crash waiting to happen. I chewed my lip as I left my office building, the air outside warmer in the evening now. Spring had come slowly but a few tendrils of Winter still clung, the slight bite in the morning hanging in the air by lunch and now gone entirely by evening. The day had been slow, boring, and I’d spent a dumb amount of time at work arguing about an old collection of fairy tales over text with Hob in between his lectures. I had no doubt it would continue when he came over for dinner with Dream, who would no doubt settle it between us, but I was determined to be right. I had even called the local bookshop I frequented close to my apartment to see if they carried the book I was thinking of. He was stubborn but so was I. Anissa was out on vacation for a week, leaving the office stuffy and boring so I was eager to leave as soon as the clock turned. I sighed and checked my phone before entering into the small bookshop down the street, the bell ringing overhead. I had a bit of time before both immortals came over. Hob was going to be doing the cooking so he had plans to come over earlier to start, Morpheus showing up whenever he deemed he could get away. He didn’t eat with us but usually drank wine while we did, choosing to enjoy the company instead. We’d learned better after making him try the food once, overly excited to see him change his mind and only getting a bland reaction in return. Unless it was on my skin, he wasn’t a fan of human foods. There weren't a lot of people inside, most customers already headed home for the night rather than stopping in to shop. I twiddled with the black stone on my necklace and went to the isle where the book would likely be, skimming over the titles and slightly smiling at myself while thinking of the two men that simultaneously annoyed me and kept me on my toes in different ways. But I was determined to be able to throw this book in Hob’s face if only to see his reaction. I chewed my lip and then made a small noise of satisfaction as the title fell under my fingertips, the book obviously second hand and well loved but the golden foil of the words holding up. I flipped through the pages anxiously, grinning when it found the one I knew had been in this collection. He had been so determined to say it wasn’t included, it was going to be so satisfying to prove him wrong. “I take it you found what you were looking for?” a soft feminine voice spoke behind me and I jumped, hugging the book to my chest and knocking into the shelf. I winced as my elbow connected to the wood and some of the books jostled together. The woman standing behind me was beautiful, dark hair falling around her shoulders and some pinned back in intricate braids. Her brown eyes were warm as she looked on with a slight smile, a white sundress falling to her feet. There was a grace and light that emanated from her, ease and comfort surrounding her like a well loved blanket. I smiled, laughing nervously, and clung to the book in my hands. “Uh, yeah, I was hoping they had this copy. I was needing it for a friend,” I replied, tongue explaining without even thinking. She smiled and nodded, hands clasped in front of her and looking at the title I held, “That is an old one, but a beautiful collection.” I wasn’t sure why I was nervous. Words tumbled from my lips unbidden and I couldn’t help smiling, a little bashful, “I read it a long time ago when I was trying to get a story sorted out, but I think I just ended up devouring the stories instead. I love old folk tales.” In truth, I’d read it all over and over again until Aiden had tossed it in the trash. I had become distracted from him and like most things I loved, he got rid of it. Her brown eyes lit up and a tinge of amusement danced along her lips, “Oh you’re a writer?” I chewed on my lip, shrugging, “Sort of. Nothing published or really finished, more like I write in my past time.” My past time which had been dwindling over the past year, now relegated to when I would spend time in the library with Lucienne or the few times I was alone at home, “I work at the book publisher a few blocks away! It was the closest I could get to working with stories outside of writing and reading them.” That amusement on her face grew but there was a hint of bitterness at its edge. I wasn’t sure why I was telling her this, almost as if it were unbidden. One of my hands went to fiddle with the black stone necklace, the obsidian cool under my fingers. I watched her eyes follow the movement and fixate, her brow furrowing. “A writer and a lover of stories,” she sighed almost sadly even while slightly smiling, warm brown eyes flickering up to meet mine once more, “I could see why Oneiros would take an interest in you.” The name clanged through me, harsh and sharp, severing the connection between us. Almost as if the temperature had dropped, it was instantly colder and I could feel the slight tingling of Dream’s power emanating from the stone necklace. Oneiros, another of Morpheus’ names. My fingers tightened around the book. I was on guard immediately and shut myself off, face becoming stony, “It was nice talking to you but I have somewhere I need to be.” Before she could reply, I took the book and almost walked out of the store, stopping briefly to remember where I was. The cashier didn’t comment on the fact I was shaking, quickly ringing me up and completing my purchase, and then I was pushing the door open to leave the small bookshop with the book shoved into my bag. I was alert, flight or fight running through me. Normal people didn’t know about Morpheus. She couldn’t be human, could be any manner of thing. And I wasn’t about to stick around to find out if she meant to hurt me, maybe even use me against him. Morpheus’ paranoia was rubbing off on me. Dream’s necklace was clutched in my fingers and I wondered if he could feel the sharp tick in my anxiety, glancing up to see if I could spot Matthew anywhere. I wasn’t sure exactly how his connection to the jewel worked, only that it would lead him to me in case of emergencies. Another of his precautions. The door chimed behind me and footsteps raced before a gentle hand grabbed my arm. I whirled and backed up, breaking contact and instantly defensive. The woman held her hands up, face apologetic and beseeching, “I mean you no harm! I did not wish to frighten you at all, I had simply wished to speak with you.” Her voice was gentle, pleading, and there was a calming effect to it that I tried to shake off. It could be natural but could also be magic. I didn’t relax, eyes wide. Even in the brightness of the dying sun with other people around, I was fully on my guard, “You mentioned Dream, you know him.” She let out a huff, half a laugh and half a sigh, while slightly lowering her hands, “Yes, I do know him. I would have said rather well, but I’m afraid not quite so much anymore. My name is Calliope. Do you know who I am?” The world tilted. My breath caught and eyes widened, heart thumping rapidly in my chest. Did I know who she was? Yes, I did. Her name had rattled in my brain for an entire night while I sat in Morpheus’ empty chambers, waiting for him. Wondering what he was doing, running off to his ex-wife, leaving me without even a word. His former lover and wife. The mother of his child. A muse, a goddess. It all fit now that I was looking at her with fresh eyes. She was beautiful, a hint of etherealness underneath her rich tanned skin, with an elegant face and regal-ness. Even in more modern clothing, it fit her and didn’t hide the classic look of her. The calming nature of her made sense. I could only whisper out a reply, eyes quickly cataloging everything about her all the while finding myself lacking, “Yes, I know of you.” Morpheus had loved her once, loved her long enough to marry her and then father a child with her. We had never broached the topic again after our last blow out concerning her, when he’d disappeared to help her, so I wasn’t sure how they had fallen apart, how their marriage had crumbled. I knew it had to deal with their son but that was a dangerous topic and I never brought it up again. But looking at her, I could see why he had been with her. There was tenderness, compassion alongside her beauty, but confidence and a hint of defiance in her eyes. A muse and the Prince of Stories. It was fitting. More fitting than a human and King of Dreams. Her lips pressed together and she tried to smile at me but it was a bit sad and sympathetic, “This is a bit of a mess, is it not? I am sorry. I had heard of you- of both of you and…was curious as to who had attracted his attention. I truly only wished to talk.” She was pleading, hands open as if to show she truly meant no harm. I chewed on my lip, feeling small and awkward in front of her, as I processed her words. She had heard of us which meant word had spread beyond the Dreaming and the Endless. Otherworldly beings turned out to be huge gossips and I was finding myself at the center of that. I knew that would upset Morpheus, either because people were intruding on his personal business or because it meant people knew he was with a human. I wasn’t sure and didn’t know if I wanted to find out which. In all honesty, I didn’t know what to do or how to feel. This woman did nothing to me beyond spark jealousy and insecurity but that wasn’t her fault. I knew she had been in trouble, imprisoned against her will for years until Morpheus had at last saved her. Sympathy and jealousy warred until all that was less was awkwardness. “I’m Dahlia. I…don’t really know what to say to you. This isn’t exactly a normal occurrence for me,” I mumbled and almost hugged myself if only to feel some semblance of grounding. “Meeting a former lover of Dream’s?” Calliope offered with a slight smile. I shrugged, “More like meeting a goddess but that too.” We both sort of laughed under our breaths, the tension easing a bit. Sighing, I looked up at her from under my lashes and chewed on my already raw lip, “He didn’t tell me exactly what you went through but…I’m sorry, either way. I’m glad he helped free you.” A shadow passed behind her eyes and she briefly looked down, swallowing visibly, before offering a solemn smile, “It is unnecessary but thank you. I did not believe he would come, that he would help. But he has changed. I can see that now.” “How so?” I asked. I kept hearing over and over that he had changed, but this was the only version of him I ever knew. Everything I’d been told so far had been so different from the man I’d come to be with. She looked me over then looked around us, people walking past on their way home along the sidewalks, “May I walk with you?” In the back of my mind, I reminded myself Hob and Dream would both be at my apartment soon so maybe heading that way wasn’t a bad idea. I could only hope he wasn’t near and didn’t see Calliope. If he was mad at Delirium and Death for being around me, I wasn’t sure how he’d react to his ex wife talking to me. I nodded and she stepped forward, falling into step at my side as we started to walk down the street. “He is no longer the man I once married,” the goddess began, eyes distant, “When he pursues you, he is fire and overwhelming. Almost suffocating with how much he loves, but once that fades, once it all settles, he could be so cold, so strict. It’s a miracle we stayed together as long as we did. Now there is almost a…gentleness to him. Oneiros is not as hard as he used to be. Maybe not as cruel.” Cruel. This wasn’t the first time I had heard that description of him. It’d been said about Alianora. He was fire, bright and burning and all consuming. While I’d been told in the past he would hardly touch anyone, didn’t seem to like it himself and wouldn’t permit it, he almost seemed desperate for contact now. He was always touching me in some form or fashion, even if it was only a simple brush against my side. I couldn’t see this Morpheus she was describing, but then again she was speaking of love. We weren’t like that. Either way, this was probably my only chance to learn more about their relationship. I was learning a lot about Dream’s previous lovers, most likely learning more than I should, and a part of me said that sometimes knowing too much would only hurt. Another part though couldn’t help it. Couldn’t help the comparisons or learning how he may one day leave or hurt me, learning the differences. Maybe it was the broken, leftover parts of my previous relationship that made me want to prepare for the worst instead of enjoying what I had. Like I was bracing for impact. But I couldn’t stop it. Fear had a hold of me and said to prepare because he would leave one day like he did with all the rest. Each step felt like it weighed a ton, but I kept walking, glancing at her from the side of my eyes, “But you did stay together for quite a while. I’m sorry if this is intrusive. He just never talks about…anything.” Calliope smiled, almost knowing, letting me guide the direction we walked, “No, he doesn’t. Sharing parts of himself was never something he did. But it’s fine, I understand wanting to know and I don’t mind.” She took a deep breath, breathing in the cooling air of dusk, “We did once love each other, but I wished to keep my life even while we were together. It made each meeting more special in my mind and I did not wish to live in the Dreaming. I lived in the Waking world with my sisters and he stayed in his realm. But once the passion faded, I think the distance became a wedge.” “Oneiros traps himself in his rules and routines and work, desperately clinging to them while also desperate to break from them. I think in the beginning I was a distraction from that work, a distraction from the Dreaming. I tried to be considerate of his responsibilities, was obedient and caring as a good wife is, but it was not enough. I think he became bored of it all, of our domestic life. He slowly stopped visiting and I had to go to him if I wished to see him.” “Wait, weren’t you Queen? Of the Dreaming?” I asked tentatively. I wasn’t sure if that was even a thing, but the fact she stayed outside of the Dream even while married was odd to me. I couldn’t imagine not being a part of the realm while with him. The place was magic and I knew Morpheus loved sharing it. But I wasn’t a goddess and I was sure she had things to do besides being his wife. Calliope shook her head and lifted her head, taking in the dying sun, “No, I was merely his consort. I had my own responsibilities as a muse and let him handle the Dreaming but back then he was less willing to share. Whether it was the realm or himself. It was his burden to bear and only his. Maybe it was partially my fault for not becoming more a part of his life, the distance, not pushing. It wasn’t our way back then to push, even as his wife. I was there to help and serve him.” The thought rankled me, bitter in my mouth. I knew how that was. More a maid and less a partner, there to help and be a decoration. I didn’t see her as being obedient but times change. Even the person I was a few years ago was so different from who I was now. She looked at me as if she knew the comment had annoyed me and smiled. The streets were clearing out as dusk fully settled in. We were walking slowly, taking our time while still headed for my home. One by one, street lamps turned on and we savored the low lights and warmth of the breeze. Sighing, the muse fiddled with her fingers, brown hair cascading over her shoulders, “I had thought perhaps a baby could repair the strain. It was my wifely duty but I wanted something that was both of ours. And for a time, it did. He was a wonderful father, but the distance only grew until it became a chasm.” “I-” the words stuck in my throat, choking, but I pushed on, “He doesn’t talk about your child and I’d prefer if when he does tell me about him, it’s on his terms. If that’s okay?” Calliope paused and the sadness was apparent even in the dim lighting. There was pain there, bright and sparkling as if whatever had happened was fresh. I wasn’t sure exactly what it was. If their son had died or something worse had happened. Morpheus didn’t speak of him at all and I could see in her face that whatever had befallen the boy, it hadn’t been good. I didn’t want to learn second-hand. It was too big, too important. I’d wait for him to tell it when he was ready, if he’d ever be ready. And so she nodded, “Of course. It is…difficult for both of us. But it should be something he tells you himself.” We were getting closer to the area of my apartment, but I wasn’t feeling as anxious anymore. Her presence was nice, reassuring even if an air of sadness hung around her, “I must not quite be what you expected. I’m so very human.” She smiled, eyes brightening, “You say that as if it’s a bad thing. Being human is wonderful, but yes I am a bit surprised. I wasn’t expecting him to be with a mortal given-” The muse seemed to cut herself off, looking unsure and hesitant. I raised a brow, confusion coloring my eyes, and she ducked her face away before shaking off the look, “Given who he is. But he has changed so much, even if he doesn’t believe so. Even if I didn’t believe he could. Have you met his family yet?” The change in topic was obvious. There was something there she had wanted to say but stopped herself. It kicked up my anxiety but I didn’t know her well enough to push and let it slide, going along with it, “I met Delirium and Death very briefly, but that’s been it. It was more accidental so nothing formal, but they were nice.” She smiled tightly at the older Endless’ name, nodding, “I was never very close to them. They kept their distance for the most part but were a part of my son’s life. They are…strange. For a long time I blamed them, and maybe Oneiros as well, for the things that went wrong. Their involvement in our lives and the way they acted. Even their help can hurt. But it is their nature to be as they are and they can never truly change from their function. I would keep that in mind for the future.” The warning was clear and my brow furrowed, not sure exactly what had happened with her and the family. I knew some things about how they were. Desire and Dream seemed to butt heads the most, bad blood flowing between them, Despair usually getting dragged into it being Desire’s twin. Death was his favorite and who he was closest to. Delirium was spoken less of as well as Destiny and then Destruction…he had only been mentioned once and bitterness had coated his name. I wasn’t sure what had been done, but they were a dysfunctional bunch. But weren’t all families?

I wasn’t sure. It’d been so long since I had one. The sky was dark as we came closer to the apartment, the air cool on my skin. I was probably late and even if Hob knew where the spare key was, I wouldn’t be surprised if he was blowing up my phone. But it was in my bag, tucked away while we walked. Sighing, I looked at Calliope at my side and the way the light illuminated her features. The insecurity was at an all time high, and had increased since learning of her because standing next to the goddess I couldn’t help but feel lesser. I opened my mouth and asked softly, “Do you still-” “Lia?” The name is a stab, sharp and quick, and my body almost jerked as the sound reached me. I whirled around quickly, looking at the dark street behind me and seeing nothing. Lia, no one called me that. No one was allowed to call me that, not in the years since I’d gotten free. My breathing was quick and shallow as I combed through the area with my eyes, Calliope’s  questioning voice muffled under the high pitched whirring in my head. I couldn’t see anything but knew I had heard it. Maybe it was a stranger talking to another, the name bouncing to hit me unintentionally. A hallucination. My therapist had once said that could happen. Swallowing hard, I turned back to Calliope and could see the concern bright on her face, “Are you okay-” The question had just finished when a hand gripped my arm and I was jerked back roughly, another going around my waist and pulling. My brain went into a scrambled panic, her fearful eyes burned into it as I was dragged back and back into the darkness. I could only register her yelling my name, the painful grip of my arm and the sound of my shoes scraping against concrete as I was pulled roughly into a side alley not far from where we stood. The hands shifted and then I was pushed backward, my back hitting brick and head roughly bouncing off the wall with a sharp crack. Pain flared, hot and bright, and white flashed over my vision for a second. It all was happening so fast and I couldn’t get my bearings, couldn’t breathe or process. But then he was there, standing before me like a nightmare made real. Aiden. He was pressed up close, arms barricading me to the wall, but I could still see him clearly. This wasn’t a dream or nightmare or memory. No, those were images frozen in time from years past. He’d changed. His hair was longer, a mess of stringy dark hair falling around his ears and he had a thick coating of hair along his jaw. Dark circles lined his green eyes, puffy and worn, the skin of his face chapped and like leather. While he had been thin with a bit of muscle, now he was bigger, more filled out but strong. His shirt was ragged and torn along the collar, stains along the fabric. No, this was him in flesh. Older and rougher and so angry as he pressed down against me. I couldn’t breathe, couldn’t see clearly, eyes locked onto his and the darkness there, “Aiden?” Calliope was calling my name from a distance but I couldn’t process it, could only see the hatred and malice in my ex’s face, “Do you know how long it took me to find you, Lia? Did you really think you could ruin my life and leave like you did?” His voice cut through me like an echo through time. So familiar, stripping the years of my freedom down and away from me. Tangible, he was tangible and in front of me and his presence hurt so much more than the nightmare of him had. Fear pulsed through my body like ice sliding along my bones. “I didn’t- I don’t know what you’re talking about,” I stuttered, pain still radiating from the back of my skull, “Let me go.” I was twenty four again, standing in that dirty apartment and begging him not to hurt me. I was twenty, clinging to him and pleading to stop being angry. I was seventeen and alone, thinking he was the only person I had left even as he screamed in my face. This wasn’t a nightmare I could pull myself out of or Morpheus could save me from. He was here, standing before me, and I was stupid to think I’d ever be free. “You didn’t tell anyone about what happened, right?,” Aiden mocked and hissed in my face, spit raining onto me, “You fucking liar. Someone sure as hell reported it. I got arrested for attempted murder because they said I stabbed you and even if you didn’t show up, they had evidence connecting me to some other bullshit. Five years, Lia. They locked me up for five years because of you.” A small part of my brain said five years wasn’t enough. Morpheus had been locked away for over a century for doing nothing wrong. Aiden got off easy. But I was shaking, trying to make myself small and sink into the bricks at my back and he was so close and his breath stank of alcohol and rancid meat and I wanted to disappear, “I didn’t, I swear -” “Shut the fuck up,” he yelled into my face and tears unwittingly slid down my cheeks, my body seizing in fear. The urge to beg, to apologize, to try and coax him down was there inside like an old cat crawling from the darkness and I pushed it away. That wasn’t me but I wasn’t even sure who I was. “You left and suddenly I got put away and you think that’s what? A coincidence? And you think you can simply move on and have a happy little life?” The words were mocking and my nails scraped against the brick as I tried to keep myself from sinking into a ball. There was some strength left in me, some part of who I was now after leaving that reared its head forward and forced myself to plant my feet in the ground. I tried to get me to breathe, to swallow the fear and set it aside, to remember all I had accomplished while pushing out the words, “I left because you were hurting me. I didn’t report anything.” His face twisted in anger but he didn’t have the chance to do anything. With a sharp cry Calliope shoved into him, trying to force him off me. Her shoulder rammed into his and he stumbled back a few steps from the effort. But he was so much bigger than us, stronger now. She managed to put distance between us, pushing and clawing while screaming for me to run. There was no time though and he grabbed her shoulder and easily tossed her across the alley, body skittering over the disgusting floor. I watched her roll across the ground, that beautiful white dress now covered in dirt and felt bile in my throat. He had most likely forgotten about her or hadn’t cared if she was there, but she wasn’t nearly as scared as I was. Her face twisted in fury even from the floor, brown eyes dark with anger, as she shouted at him, “Leave her be!” Aiden smirked and advanced on her, all menace and cruelty in his eyes, “She’s mine, I can do what I want.” I could see it then, in his steps as he walked closer to the goddess, that he’d hurt her. There was no hitting him and getting away with it. There was always punishment but Calliope had already been through so much. She’d been caged and tormented and then thought to seek me out, not out of jealousy but some sort of common thread. I couldn’t let more happen to her, couldn’t let her be dragged into my mess. My head screamed at me but I launched myself forward at Aiden. There was no plan, no reason, only one thought pulsed through my head and that was to get his attention off Calliope. He could direct his anger at me, I could take it. I’d taken it before for years and years, knew the brutality of it. But she didn’t deserve to be hurt, especially not because of me. I tried to leap onto his back, arms wrapping around his neck and nails sinking in. It was a clumsy attempt but I managed, putting all my strength into pulling him backwards. Back and back and away from her, scratching and clawing and trying to bring him down. I think I screamed at Calliope to run, to leave, but couldn’t remember doing so. Skin tore under my nails and Aiden hissed. He growled and tried to grip my wrists, stumbling and turning as I dangled from his back. In one quick move he rammed us both against the wall, my breath leaving me in a single exhale as my back impacted with all his weight against me. My lungs were on fire, desperately trying to refill as all the air left me and I dropped to the ground hard and wheezed. I wasn’t a fighter, had never been strong, but I had tried. He kneeled and then his hands were on my neck, squeezing and squeezing while I kicked and flailed. The darkness encased us, the lamps not reaching where we were in the alley and hiding him thoroughly. I would die by his hand in the end, like I had always believed. For so long I thought he couldn’t do worse but he’d always proved me wrong. This was always going to be end game. Maybe there really was no escape. My hands clawed at his wrists while pain blossomed from my throat, air unable to choke through his grip. I kicked and bucked but he was so heavy on me, unmovable. One of my fingers had hooked into my necklace and it tangled in my fingers while I scratched at Aiden’s arms. I couldn’t leave like this, on a dirty alley floor so close to home while Dream and Hob waited for me. Would Dream know when I died? Would Death come to me first or would she tell her brother? Would I even get to say goodbye? Tears leaked down my cheeks while my lungs burned. Stars and colors danced in my vision and in the haze…I thought I could see a door. Almost like in the Dreaming, it stood in the middle of the alley, plain but luring. Waiting. It was fuzzy along the edges, flickering slightly with the pain and colors, but it was there. I gasped whatever little air I had, whispering out a single word like a plea. “Morpheus.” The word was strained, broken, lost in Calliope’s cries as she tried to get up and to me. But it left my lips, painted my tongue. My dreamlord. The door vanished as darkness began to creep in. Then there was lightning along my skin. It crackled and split the air even while the darkness pulsed and writhed like a living thing. The hands were gone from my throat, air rushing back in as the body above me was jerked away. Aiden was thrown brutally to the ground a few feet away and his body audibly bounced off the floor from the force of the impact. I gasped in the air desperately and touched the tender skin of my throat, coughing through the burn.

Hands -different hands, fingers long and thin, touched the skin of my neck and I blinked up into Dream’s starlit eyes as he softly urged me to breathe. His power coasted along my skin, gentle and soothing, and I knew he was holding it back from me. He was angry, furious, but kept that away from me. He cupped a hand against my check, forehead pressed to mine, and slowly helped me sit up, his skin cool against my heated skin. It was like trying to swallow nails, my throat painful and raw. I was crying, clinging to him, as he righted me against the wall. “You- you’re….here,” I stuttered out with a wince, the words dragging from my lips like sharp edged glass. “I am,” Dream whispered, sorrow and pain and rage lining his voice. He brushed the hair back from my face, from my neck, and seemed to be inspecting the damage. His rage grew. Aiden shifted not far from us, orienting himself on the ground, clumsily trying to sit up. Like an angry storm cloud made of nightmares and power, Morpheus stood and moved before him with a look so furious I couldn’t believe the man was alive. There was no solid edge to him, his cloak merging and shifting with the shadows around his, eyes pure black and stars red. His skin glowed in the darkness and he was purely Dream of the Endless, Ruler of the Nightmare Realms in that moment. Aiden groaned and blinked, trying to scramble to his feet in front of the dreamlord. The impact had hurt but he wasn’t fragile, could no doubt take the blow. But I could see the fear in his eyes, creasing in his brow as he took in the being before him. The Nightmare King slowly advanced and the air was thick with his power building, each step a warning bell. He was fear made flesh, darkness and the things hiding under your bed made real. And his eyes were solely on Aiden now, fingers clenching at his side. Calliope’s voice rang out, closer now, slightly pained, “Oneiros, stop! You cannot kill him!” His head quirked ever so slightly as he registered her voice, making him pause. The shadows slid along the ground and twisted in the air like a cat’s tail angrily flicking in distaste. Aiden took the opportunity to get to his feet, eyes glued to the Endless being in front, but some semblance of self coming back. He was evaluating the situation, taking in the distance to the end of the alley, to me, to Morpheus. I wheezed and attempted to climb to my feet, stumbling forward, knees pressed into the dirty concrete. I was so weak. I couldn’t do anything. Dream started to advance again and stopped almost like he was fighting with himself. Calliope was close now and the dim light reflected off her white gown enough that I could make out her form. She was taking him in, taking in the rage and Aiden before him, and yelled out, “He is not a threat to your realm, you cannot take his life! You cannot break the rule!” Aiden’s confidence was building at the words, his eyes swiveling to find mine briefly. Even when faced with something like the Dream King he still thought he had a chance and could win out in the end. I could see it, the confidence growing in his stance. “There are worse things than Death,” Morpheus growled and looked back at the goddess. The move was a mistake maybe. I could see it in Aiden’s stance like a memory. I could always read his body language, had committed it to memory to know when he’d strike, when he was buying time, when he was lingering in the hopes to draw out the anticipation. Maybe he’d run. Morpheus wouldn’t abandon me to chase after him, wouldn’t leave me. In the few seconds I had my eyes flicked to the ground and I could almost feel time pause. Not far from my scraped knees within grabbing distance were a stray plank of wood and a chipped, broken brick. Even in the scramble of the moment Delirium’s words echoed back clearly. “Oh we can ask if bricks or planks would be better!” It couldn’t be a coincidence. It had been a small offhand comment in her ramblings, but what were the odds? Yet everything clicked into place as I watched the turn of Morpheus’ head, the shifting in Aiden’s feet, the slight lifting of his lips into a smirk. He’d get away and would forever haunt me, would continue to lurk in the darkness. Escaping hadn’t been enough to be free of him. The world was an echo chamber. Silent. We were frozen in place as if time had fallen still and then in a blink everything was moving so fast. And like watching a movie, disassociated from the action, I watched as I picked up the brick and threw myself forward. I swung, it connected. Aiden’s head jerked and I could hear a crunch. I watched separately from my body almost as momentum carried me forward and I was stumbling, but not fully down. The man was bleeding, disoriented, and I swung again though the blow had less power. I swung again and again and a body hit the ground. I wasn’t sure if it was his or mine but then the brick was wrenched away and arms wrapped around me even as I kicked and screamed and cried. I was a wild animal, howling and snarling and pleading to let me finish it. It wasn’t happening to me, it was happening to her. The broken girl who thought she had survived her abuser. I watched as the dreamlord solidified and wrapped the shadows around her, muffling her sobs as he set her down on the floor against the wall. Tears and blood poured down her face and her neck was ringed in purple and red, breath coming out in gasping pants. Hyperventilating. Calliope was rushing over, crawling along the ground under she was at the broken girl’s side calmly urging the girl to breathe. She was having a panic attack and couldn’t be soothed. I was having a panic attack? I thought I could feel my lungs constrict and air try to push in and out but it was all muffled and numb. I was in my body and not, feeling everything and feeling nothing. Existing but watching from the outside. It couldn’t be me, couldn’t be me crumpled on the ground like a broken doll. But even so, she looked like me, had Morpheus’ attention as he combed back her hair and whispered that he was there and it was okay and I needed to breathe. In the distance, I thought I heard a raven’s cry. I could hear their words like they were in my ear. Dream hissed angrily at the goddess, “What are you doing here with her?” and I tried to force my hands to move, to grasp onto him and get his attention. I didn’t want him to be angry at her, I couldn't allow it.

Sobs poured from my lips, hindering the air trying to get in, and with a scratchy voice I attempted to beg him not to be angry. I watched myself do it and felt it too. She had tried to save me. Perhaps had saved me if I had been alone. None of it was her fault. “I promise, we were only speaking. I did not know this would happen,” Calliope tried to explain, her hand clenching mine tightly to ground me, “Is your sister coming?” He turned from her and focused solely on me, black pits having slid back to human icy blue. He didn’t answer. The tight fist in my chest was starting to ease, whether it be time or the soothing touch of Morpheus’ fingers in my hair or Calliope gripping my hand. Breathing became easier if not still painful and I slid back into my own skin. Everything hurt and my brain felt like jello, sloshing around my skull. I think there was blood soaking the back of my head. I tightened my fingers around Calliope and she forced a soft smile at me, “You are okay. He won’t hurt you any longer. You are safe.” She turned to the Endless at her side, both of them hovering over me and smiled sadly, “Take care of her, Oneiros. She needs you now.” His lips turned down and he nodded, but he didn’t meet her gaze. The anger aimed at her lessened, disappearing from the furrow of his brow. The muse moved to stand up but I gripped her hand, swallowing through my pain and tears, “Calliope.” She froze, eyes soft, and I continued, “Thank you.” I don’t remember her reply. The world shifted and turned, darkness blanketing me. I felt like a gravity sinkhole, weightless while also being too heavy. I think I passed out but at the same time, I remembered bits and pieces of what was happening around me. Arms lifting me up, tucking me close, as we climbed a set of stairs. The chest against my cheek emanated warm power, my necklace echoing it back. Hob’s panicked voice as fingers poked at a painful spot on my head. Him shushing and consoling, “darling” and “sweetheart” whispered into my ear and coated in pain and heartbreak. Water, cool and shocking, running through my hair as calloused fingers tried to untangle the matted blood. Morpheus’ own hands brushing the water or tears from my cheeks as he did so. I was held between them, cradled almost. Dream and Hob’s voices going back and forth, tense but resolute. Words like “done it before” and “take care of it” and “for her” stuck in my head before the door shut with a loud bang. Lips pressed against my forehead. The immortal man urging me to focus on him and stay awake, arms wrapped around my small frame and holding me to his chest as he sprawled us out on the couch. Morpheus wasn’t there, his absence noticeable. He talked and talked, voice wavering underneath the false cheer. Hob was gone and I was wrapped in shadows, warm and protective while long fingers skimmed over the bruises on my neck. I think we were on the bed, my cheek pressed against Dream’s chest and his cloak spilling around us like ink. Or blood. Any attempts at holding a normal form in the Waking were gone and I was wrapped in the King of Dream’s arms. His lips were against my temple and I could feel how he wished to hold me tight but was afraid it would hurt me. Could feel him holding back but was unable to stop touching, assuring both of us that we were safe and whole. In the twilight, he whispered that I was okay. That he was sorry for not being there sooner. His words were soft promises in the shadows of the room, pledges, and he told me how important I was, how he would never leave me, and that no one would ever touch me again. I’m not sure if he knew I was conscious, if the words were for my ears or for himself. But they lingered in the air nonetheless. Then I fell into darkness.

[darklinsblog]

Nexus Event | Lucerys Velaryon Imagine

Summary: As the daughter of Morpheus and capable of controlling space, you prevent the death of Lucerys Velaryon.

Pairing: Lucerys Velaryon x Morpheus!Daughter reader

Part II

Author’s note: We love doing crossovers in this house, ofc. Also GIF’s mine so credit if you use it pls.

Note 2.0: OH HOW I’VE MISSED WRITING SPREES… should I do Part 2?

Life wasn’t as lovely in the Dreaming as one might think, your father was the mighty Sandman, The Prince of Stories, one of the Endless.

Your father adored you, you were his only child and even being half human and half Endless that did not matter in his eyes. He taught you all things about the Dreaming, the land he created and taught you how to control your own gifts.

You had the extraordinary ability to manipulate the matter, every single component you could shift to your liking and make something brand new if you pleased.

Morpheus was very proud of you but as you grew older, it was far more obvious that you wanted to see beyond the Dreaming.

So, when you were of proper age, you started going to the Waking World, you knew your father was the busiest man in the universe and you did not wish to disrupt his focus.

This time around you decided to take Lola a Griffin that your father had manufactured to celebrate your birth, you loved to surf upon the Waking World skies, feel free.

For a bit, it did feel like that, but this time around everything felt awfully quiet, dangerously quiet even.

A minute later, a boy emerged from the clouds, riding on a dragon’s back, his hair was wet, dripping even, his cheeks were rosy, his pupils dilated, he was obviously going through some sort of stress.

The boy looked in your direction, he didn’t say anything, he simply stared at you for what felt like an absolute eternity, but all the quiet was done when a massive monster emerged, with a platinum haired boy on his back, the monster’s mouth opened fully in direction to the boy and his dragon.

Out of reflex you and Lola launched towards the boy and his dragon as you screamed your lungs out, your eyes turning purple as your hands lifted upon the hair creating an invisible barrier-box in which you trapped the platinum blonde boy with an eye patch and his enormous dragon.

“I WILL GET YOU, TAOBA!” He roared quite profusely after trying to pass through the prison box you had created in the moment.

“You have to go, NOW” you muttered through your teeth as you were pulling strength from God knows where to keep the lunatic trapped at least enough for the boy to leave.

“Th-thank you…!” He stammered in utter shock.

“Y/N” you said loud enough for him to hear you

“Luke” he replied with a nervous smile before disappearing down on the clouds

As Luke was left to safety, the crazy person whom had become your prisoner was looking at you with a blinding ire.

“I will make you pay, you fucking cunt” he spoke deathly serious.

“Try never, pirate” you hissed through your teeth as you disappeared in the blink of an eye.

The experience itself was nerve-racking, you had just saved someone’s life while putting yours on the line. You knew it was best if you kept this venture to yourself, that your father never found out.

So, you and Lola sneaked back into the Dreaming but as you did you were greeted by the opposing side of your whole family in the main room.

Desire, Death, Destiny, Destruction, Delirium and of course, your father Dream.

Uh-oh.

“You have absolutely no depth on the course of your reckless actions!” Your uncle Destiny roared at you, as you sunk deeper into your seat, wanting to disappear from the face of Earth… you couldn’t believe you were being lectured on this.

“I saved someone’s life! Last time I came to thought of it, it was a decent thing to do!” You shot back utterly fed up with the situation.

Up until this moment everyone else was disturbingly quiet.

“The boy was supposed to die” Death spoke, looking at you with a regretful expression, your whole expression fell as well as your heart.

“…what?” You let out in a single breath, now looking for anyone’s gaze, trying to find some answers but no one had the strength to.

“Lucerys Velaryon was meant to die, he was the key to a civil war on King’s Landing’s history” Destiny went on “You have altered what was meant to be and created a nexus event in the process…”

“So what happens now…?” Your father asked, taking a stand for you, he knew the importance of the matter, this was the universal balance, what his family swore to protect.

But you were too, his daughter. This was him against the wall, Morpheus was splitting his heart in two, between his duty and his love as a father.

He knew you only meant to do good, that was who you were, that’s the little girl he raised, yet the truth of the circumstances we’re laying in front of everyone.

Your uncle let out an exhausted sigh as he touched his forehead.

“That’s just it, brother” he muttered. “I have no knowledge of what happens next”

“Are you saying…?” You suggested in pure disbelief, this could not be happening, this could not be real.

“We have gotten ourselves head deep into uncertainty!” Delirium crooked a nervous laugh, but it made the situation not any less tense.

Everyone was absolutely startled, confused even as a single question floated in the air but nobody had the courage to ask:

What had you done?

Taglist: @emiemiemii @ladyfairenvale @hungrhay @aurorarevenclaw1927 @adishax @meganmayhem89 @mrs-captainsteverogers @hb8301 @bambooing-shenanigans @queenshelby @characterxreaderimagine @emarich7 @carolcrysis @coolsnowker @jesllianaquilesrolon @supermegapauselouca @vvsdreaming

[dreaming-about-fanfictions]

Hey ^^

Are you still taking Sandman blurb requests? Sorry to ask 😅

If yes, I have a feel ideas and I’d love to read any of them, if its okay ofc 🥺 So here are some of my ideas:

-Morpheus x reader (could be platonic or not), Morpheus finding out abt the internet for the first time after all those years imprisoned. I just think his reaction would be fun lol

-Reader wearing Morpheus’ coat

-Corinthian x reader fluff, just watching Netflix and chilling, maybe watching some scary movies 🥺

Any of them would be fine really! ^^

Here you go, I hope you like this 🧡 Thank you for sending me the request!

Reader wearing Morpheus' coat

"Love, have you seen ..." Morpheus stops abruptly when he sees you sitting in front of the library windows. You're leaning against a wall of pillows, a hot cup of tea by your side and a book in your hand.

And his coat wrapped around you.

"Apparently, you have seen it", he states, a smile tugging on the corners of his lips.

You look up at your lover and as if the thought of giving the coat back to him scares you, you pull it tighter. His smile widens.

"Comfortable?", he asks.

"Very." You nod. You had waited for this day ever since you met Dream. It's so beautiful, you wanted nothing more than to find out how it feels having galaxies and universes move against your body.

It feels intoxicating. Or maybe that's the effect of his scent still lingering in the fabric. You can't tell.

"Can I have it back?" Morpheus kneels down in front of you, meeting your eyes at your level.

You shake your head. "I'm cold." Leaning forward, you give him a quick peck on his lips before you whisper: "Seems like you have to work without it today."

He raises an eyebrow. "Or I can adjust the temperature in here."

"Or - and hear me out on this - you can work without it today."

Morpheus doesn't reply with words this time. Instead he puts his finger under your chin and pulls you towards him softly. The softness of his lips pressed against yours tells you his answer.

"Promise me not to get lost in it", he says when he gets up and walks towards the door.

You frown. "Get lost in - wait, what do you mean?"

"What I said." He doesn't turn around. "Be careful." Then the door shuts behind him and suddenly you're rethinking the choice of wearing his coat.

The Sandman Masterlist

[lady-phasma]

Other fandoms masterlist

Gradually cross posting my fics from AO3

Main masterlist

The Sandman (written in first person reader)

Patience Rewarded Part 1 - Morpheus Returns Part 2 - The Gathered Storm

Marvel:

Frank Castle Battered and Broken - The Punisher (may become a series) - Frank Castle x fem!reader

Bucky Barnes Зимний Солдат (Zimniy Soldát) - Part 1 (written in first person reader) You can't ignore it - Part 2 (not in first person because I am chaotic)

Daryl Dixon - The Walking Dead

Happiness at the end of the world Chapter 1 Chapter 2 Chapter 3 Chapter 4 - in progress

The Mandalorian - Din Djarin x Togruta OFC

Chapter 1 Chapter 2 - cross posting soon Chapter 3 - cross posting soon Chapter 4 - cross posting soon Chapter 5 - cross posting soon

More coming soon from quite a few fandoms...

Main masterlist

[itskindofidontknow]

What dreams know about love? Masterlist

Only four chapters posted and I am losing track, so here you can find it all so you don't get lost!

You can catch all that I'ver written in my AO3

Dream of The Endless/Morpheus x Love!OFC

Summary: The Queen of Love has grown used to the absence of her husband, the Dream King. After banning her from the Dreaming, they only saw each other when Morpheus summoned her for social or marital duties. He would go decades without calling for her, enamorated by a variety of mistresses. It broke Love's heart. Not that her husband cared. However, after being imprisioned for a century, The Dream King wants to regain his Queen's love. She doesn't believe him, not after centuries of neglect. The question is: Can dreams repair a broken heart?

Tag: Established relationship, arranged marriage, regency romance, eventual happy ending, angst, morpheus is a dick prepare to hate, love is eoster from west germanic mythology, typos are to be expected, Drama & Romance, Fluff and Angst, eventual smut, mildly dubious consent, denial of feelings, slow burn, emotional hurt/comfort, regency romance, strangers to lovers, think like a marriage story, falling In love, loss of virginity, masturbation, extramarital affairs

What dreams know about love? (+18)

Chapter 1

Chapter 2

Chapter 3

Chapter 4

Chapter 5

Chapter 6

Chapter 7

Chapter 8

Chapter 9 (+18)

Chapter 10

Chapter 11

Chapter 12 (+18)

Chapter 13

Chapter 14

Chapter 15

Chapter 16

[writing-for-life]

The Pillars of Creation Master Post

Like for The Light of Stars, here comes the promised master post that will take you directly to every new chapter on Ao3.

And as always: Your comments, likes and reblogs/shares are super-appreciated, be it here or on Ao3. Writers and creators love to hear from you.

Art by Jill Thompson

Chapter 1: Prologue, in which Delirium crashes Dream’s castle and awkwardly reveals her role in Thalia’s fate.

Chapter 2: Food for Thought, in which a cooking session goes sideways because family drama proves harder to digest than Thalia’s cookies (iykyk).

Chapter 3: Family Business, in which family conversations go spectacularly wrong.

Chapter 4: On the Nature of Pleasure, in which we witness risky corridor encounters and awkward small talk with Mervyn.

[justjams2003]

The Desire to be Loved- 5

Summary: Love is Desire's first creation. As Cupid she shoots her arrows of love and rips them from people's hearts too. Occasionally, shooting a soulmate arrow. What does she do when her first Soulmate arrow in 100 years is between Cupid and Dream?

Pairing: Dream of the Endless x OFC Love/Cupid/Venus (you know how these beings have millions of names) (Also technically it could be an x reader because love is sort of anthropomorphic but in this story a she)

Warnings: Manipulation, threats, crying, cliffhanger, unedited, kind of like enemies to lovers, soulmate au, cursing, gore, snake slander :(tell me if I miss any.

Word count: 1,8k+

Dividers by: @hyelita

Tags: @intothesoul @briskesby coffeebeforewater @i-voluntears @dreamingblueberries @idkamt @deniixlovezelda @lmg-stilinski24

Masterlist

What overcame him can only be described as fury. Utter rage. As if he himself were not Dream but Destruction. Desire had not put the humans in danger, it is true that he was not stupid enough to do that. However, they did harm Cupid. There’d be no other explanation for his hollow puppet following after Dream.  

Morpheus doesn’t see warm brown eyes staring back at him, but instead malicious glowing gold. Like a slithering snake watching his every move, deciding when to strike again. And he’s used Cupid’s body as the tall grass that he’s used to hide from Dream. Or rather, a second skin from which he can crawl inside and out when needed. Just another way to abuse her.  

Dream’s pale hand wraps around the puppet’s neck. “Come out and face me, you unhuman abuser.” The creature’s expression changes to that sinister smirk that Desire has trademarked. She speaks but it is not her. It sounds painful. The voice sounds to be physically crawling with claws out of her throat. “You know where to find me.”  

The puppet does what puppets do when their master lets go of their strings, she falls limp, then disappears. The dream-maker curses and within seconds steps into his gallery hall. He grabs the heart of Desire and his boots hit the red glass walls of Desire’s realm.  

“What did you do with her?” His voice is rough and his jaw is locked. “She is my creature you cannot have her.” The younger brother snipes with a pained attitude, clearly displeased with his older brother catching him in his shenanigans. “She is not something to be owned.” The rougher voice replies just as quickly.  

Desire’s lip is raised in disgust. He sits upright on his throne, crossing his legs and leaning forward. “I breathed life into her flesh, I can take it away just as easily. That makes her mine to own.” Dream steps forward. “Perhaps. But it is awfully cruel to keep Love from loving merely because the free will you gave her is awakening.”  

Desire scoffs, “This is not love this is desperation. She’s nothing but a pet, I made her to be used.” This ticks Dream off. He does he same as he had with the marionette, grabs Desire right by the neck, threatening his life. “I will summon every nightmare that I have ever made and ever will make to haunt every frame that your eyes show you. You think that Endless do not too have dreams? I see, do not think I do not.”  

Desire clenches his jaw. He knows that Dream speaks the truth and anything Dream can conjure would be 100 times more terrifying than he could. They swallow, their eyes look for a way out but can’t find one. “She’s in Despair’s realm. I don’t know where.” Dream doesn’t say anything, just squeezes Desire’s neck tighter. “I don’t know where! I don’t know what despair she has, I gave her the perfect life!”

Within those words Dream knows what haunts Cupid. He remembers the horror in her eyes and the way the blood dripped to the floor like sticky syrup. The way it coated her golden hair, making look like wet copper, a rusty pipe. Most of all he remembers how she wailed in despair.  

She can’t escape it. She can’t escape this nightmare. Each time she tries to stop it from happening, it does happen. No matter what she does or doesn’t do. The heart always ends up beating in her hands. She holds the soul of the lover pumping blood until it shrivelled up and grey in her arms.  

At this point, she’s given in. She sits on the floor in the corner of the room it all happened in. Even when she does this, the organ still ends up pouring her hands with blood. The tears she cried at first matched this boundless drip but now it has ended and there is nothing left in her soul. Only the fear she has for herself and just how cruel she has become. 

“Cupid.” She doesn’t hear. All she hears is the man that at no time has ever stopped crying. Grabbing at his chest as he dies of a broken heart. That and that pump-pump-pump as the cardio vascular muscles pull and contract trying to save a person who stands no chance.  

“Cupid!” In between the gasps of a dead man and the point where all blood drains she hears it. Him. Has he come to fulfil his promise of finding her? Of saving her? Why did it take so long? Why did she have to break this poor soul’s heart over a million times before he found her? 

“Cupid!” Her gaze snaps. It is him. The scene restarts again. The man’s crying starts again. No, no, she can’t do this again if there is some glimmer of an escape. Her head finally raises from the position it’s been locked in for all this time. “Call again.” Her voice is rare but the other one isn’t. 

“Cupid!” There it is! A mirror in the corner of the room that ripples when the voice calls out. She lifts herself. Her knees crack as she does and her legs have long since gone into pins and needles. But anything is better than that blood curdling scream that comes now. She jumps, she jumps every time. The heart shows in her hands again and again she wants to stop and cry. 

“Cupid!” She mustn't become distracted, this is her only chance! She must come to him herself or else she can never escape this hell. She places the heart down, the man cries even louder at this. She flinches but in her last moment of strength ignores his pleas for her to stay and comfort him. She’s tried that before.  

Her hand, smeared red with blood, reaches to the mirror and then through the mirror. She feels a soft hand, a cold one, a pleasant change from the burning blood bound to her hands. A gasp of relief escapes her and she steps closer. She can just barely make out his face and those glowing blue eyes.  

“Come to me, Cupid. I have found you.”  

With one step through the glassy mirror, relief falls on her shoulders. More like tumbles down. Peace comes within the instant. And suddenly she can breathe again. Glades upon glades of ceaseless flowers that jump and dance in the wind and the sun and the colours that plummet from their petals.  

The mountains too are painted in vibrant images of a thousand hues. The suns first early rays comes from the right and cast a shadow behind her. Bees and birds and butterflies bound from beautiful buttercups. What looks to be fairies, made from which she is, tend to the flower field.  

The hand that holds hers helps her as she hunches down in the hibiscus flowers. The tule of her dress surrounds her in a image of a flower’s petals spreading in the face of the early mornings rays. Her hair seems to match the colour of sunshine and Dream can hear his own heart beat in his ears.  

“You made this for me?” Her eyes, this time like hot honey on his tongue, look up to him. She squints against the sun shining down on her. Her button nose scrunches up as she does. A coy smile shows his white teeth against those pale lips. 

“I did not.” Her brows furrow, “Then who did?” He tilts his head to the side, the sunrays hit her eyes again, he notices and moves back. “You did.” Cupid turns back to face the flower meadow. “Me?” He nods, allowing her to think. “You started out as something merely made by Desire...but it seems your affect on the humans has made you into something more...”  

His blue eyes don’t seem to match the blue sky and it’s all she can think about. “This would be your realm.” He explains to her, he can’t seem to look away. It’s strange, a pout forms on her lips. It runs over Dream like a crashing wave you cannot run form. He cannot stop when he is already crouched down beside her and his thumb pulls on her bottom lip. 

“Why the frown?” Her cheeks match the colour of a dusty rose. She takes her head back from his grasp and her eyes scan the scene. “I was hoping there’d be someone to talk to.” Dream feels his heart soften like wet clay. His knees give in and he sits down next to her in the flower bed. 

“You are lonely?” Her small hands takes the delicate petals of a flower between her fingers. “I’ve only ever talked to Desire.” Dream scoffs at this. “That is sure to cause a lonely heart for his company is only about themself.” He stands out in the colourful field. “You could make some company.” 

Dream suggests and her brows pull together. The Endless gently plucks the flower she holds from her hands. He seems to summon a bundle of sand which so carefully trickles onto the flower. The daisy sprouts eyes and appendages and a mouth. It’s eyes look all around before settling on Cupid. 

“Hello.” Love smiles and brushes the petals again. “Hello. Go, play.” She says, letting the now mortal flower jump around in the meadow. “Thank you, but I was hoping something with more substantial consciousness.” Now it is Dreams turn to furrow his brows. 

“I could give you the gift of choice. To chose when the humans can see you and when they cannot, just as I come and go.” He suggests to her, wanting to do almost anything to keep her happy. “You just saved me from eternal hell and now wish to gift me more?” She is unused to people being kind. 

“If it sets your heart at ease we could call it an exchange.” Her eyes jump from his eyes to her sharp jaw and then back. It’s hard to keep focus when he’s not looked away from her once. “What for?” Dreams allows the arrow to appear in his hands and then places it in hers.  

She smiles now at the sight of the arrow. “What would you like me to do with this?” She asks, her eyes reading the names over and over again. Dream smiles, “Is it our names written?” He asks her, his eyes only hold softness, no anger. 

Cupid nods, not trusting her voice. “I’d like for you to keep it. And only when you feel the statement is correct may you pierce our hearts with it.” Suddenly tears pool in her eyes and she shudders trying not to cry.

A choice. He’s given himself the chance to earn her love. He’s given her the choice to love him or not. Her first choice ever and it seems it will be the most important one she’ll ever make.

Part 4~Part 6 (coming soon)

[undiscovered-horizon]

Hello! I saw your requests were open and was wondering if you could write a Morpheus x mortal!reader where he has a crush on her and Idk maybe they’re friends or something and he sees her kissing another guy at a party and gets jeaulous.

Or… maybe a Morpheus x Johanna’s apprentice!reader where they have to go on kind of a mission together to help/save Johanna and they end up falling in love?

Couldn’t choose between the two tbh 😅 Any of them would be fine. If its okay for you, ofc!

🫀REQUESTS ARE OPEN🫀

[TW: religious themes, demons, swear words] Sandman-inspired playlist

"I'm looking for Johanna Constantine," stated the stranger standing at your threshold. He was dressed in all black with pasty white skin that made him look either emaciated or vampire-like. Either way, it was a very uncommon taste but you didn't expect anything else from your boss's acquaintances.

"You and me both, man," you answered as you leaned against the doorframe. "She was supposed to go to some town outside of London, look at a girl and come back. Maybe do an exorcism but she sounded convinced it wouldn't be needed."

"When was that?"

"Like two days ago?" you said with a shrug. Most of the time, Johanna was stuck in a cycle of disappearing and showing up shortly after without even a scratch.

The stranger leaned in. His dark eyebrows furrowed only furthering his intimidating appearance. "And you haven't thought of finding her?" he asked in an unnerved voice.

"Of course I did!" you exclaimed while throwing your hands in the air. The last thing you wanted or needed was a random man suggesting you were irresponsible. "Who do you have me for, raven boy? The only thing stopping me from going after her is herself. Have you ever seen Johanna angry? No? I have and now I don't watch scary movies with my light on because I know there are worse things."

"Where is Johanna?" The man was growing impatient and angry. Whatever he needed her for, it was something that clearly couldn't wait.

The stranger's irritation was, truthfully, an expression of your own worries and desperation - lead-like dread had been sitting in your abdomen for the entire day. Perhaps it was time to brave through your fear of Johanna's anger and show some agency. "She's supposed to be in Dover, like 2 hours from here. I'll grab my keys and we can go."

But Morpheus grabbed the sleeve of your jacket before you could walk away. You were about to scold him, tell him that he's being very forward to a person he had only just met, but suddenly you weren't in your small apartment in London. In the distance, you heard sea waves crashing against cliffs and a flock of seagulls screaming over the shore: undoubtedly, you had found yourself in Dover.

"Come," he called out behind you. Judging by his aloofness, he must have often just reappeared wherever he wanted.

Turning around towards Morpheus, you saw a brick mansion with thick ivy covering its walls. The windows were either too dirty to see through them or the architect was strangely fond of opaque glass. The paint was chipping off the wooden door, silently suggesting that no one had taken care of the house in a long while. A murder of crows seemed to have taken over the mansion - a row of black birds sat along the ledge, staring at the two unwelcome guests. They seemed to grow irritated as their loud caws did not scare you off from their den.

"Creepy old house," you slowly said to yourself as you took in the disturbing sight. "That's definitely on my jeepers-creepers bingo."

"Did Johanna employ you as a jest?" His tendency to speak in a quite monotone voice made it difficult for you to decide whether it was a genuine question or an attempt at being mean.

"I hope not. I tend to have a very limited repertoire of cynicism and self-deprecation."

Suddenly, a muffled scream reached your ears. Among the crashing waves and seagulls it would have been impossible to hear it had you been standing even a few meters farther from the house. The crows also contributed to the general disruption. Wickedness, quite curiously, came with a drop of genius.

"Basement. Of course," you said in a low voice while slightly nodding to yourself. "Let's go."

Entering the cellar, your nostrils were instantaneously filled with the putrid smell of mould and rotting blood. The floor was covered in something wet and you were suddenly grateful for the lack of light in the concrete corridors - it was better to naively assume it was just water from faulty, old plumbing. Your heart was thundering in your chest as you followed Morpheus and his strides towards the screams and rattling of chains that only grew louder with each of your rushed steps.

With trembling hands, you pushed open the door at the end of the dark corridor. Sure enough, on the other side, you found the source of the blood-chilling screams. Across the concrete room was a man dressed in a cassock, who was speaking in a language you had never heard before. Was he... praying? High above his head levitated Johanna's body with limbs stretched out so much they threatened to completely dismember her at any second. She must have been screaming for hours on end as her voice became raspy. So far, both of them seemed to be unaware of your presence.

"A satanic priest. Because there wasn't anything more cliche," you whispered.

Morpheus was about to take a step towards the possessed man and suffering Johanna but you grabbed his arm. He looked at you with nothing short of annoyance - you were, clearly, treading on thin ice.

"You may be an expert on pulling Houdini-worth tricks but this is my field of expertise. Like it or not, I need you to trust me with your life for the next bit," you spoke quietly. Every now and then you'd look towards the horrifying sight on the other side of the room to make sure that you still had the element of surprise.

Rummaging through the pockets of your jacket, you pulled out two containers and shoved them in Dream's chest. With vivid unsureness, he took them from you. "Holy water and blessed salt," you explained. "Throw it at him or around him. It won't kill the demon but will surely weaken it. I'll do the talking."

Having said those words, Morpheus left your side to march towards the possessed priest. You took in a deep, slow breath to try and calm yourself. As an apprentice, you knew that the day of your trial was coming sooner or later but you never thought that the life of someone you cared about would be part of it. A grim duty fell on you - there was no one else who could help Johanna before she dies from the ritual she was currently undergoing. Whatever happens now, was to forever remain your sole responsibility.

Johanna had made you practise the exorcism prayer so many times you learned it barely a few weeks into your apprenticeship. It was just a strange skill at the time but now, when her life and well-being were in your hands only, it was akin to a superpower. Having taken in another deep breath, you began reciting the formula as fast as you could while maintaining the necessary clarity of speech.

The demon was no longer oblivious to your pesky presence but Morpheus did an excellent job at keeping it distracted enough to not go after you or poor Johanna. Considering how much of the blessed salt and holy water actually ended up on the possessed man, Dream had an exceptional aim. A blood-chilling scream resounded once more but this time it didn't belong to Johanna: it was the demon, crying out at the pain of being torn out of a corporeal form. His agony could partially be accredited to the sole fact that he was going to be banished to Hell, a place even demons feared and disliked.

Once the demon was exiled from this realm, Johanna's body hit the concrete floor of the basement with a muffled thud. Then, a groan left her mouth and you sighed in relief. Even if her bones were shattered, she was alive. Wasting no time, you run towards her to help her get up.

Straining to stand up, Johanna groaned out: "Well, that was really fucking fast."

"Yeah, I had my Eminem phase in middle school," you answered dismissively as you put her arm around your neck for better support.

"What took you so long?"

"I didn't actually think you were in trouble, Johanna. He brought me here because he wants something from you." Only when you motioned your head towards the black-haired man did she notice him. She let out an irritated sigh but it was quiet enough that only you heard it.

After a few limping steps, Johanna was well enough to walk on her own or at least she claimed so. She crossed her arms on her chest as she approached Morpheus, whose expression remained ever so unreadable. Apparently, an exorcism wasn't enough to elicit emotion from him. Johanna gave you a meaningful stare and you knew it was time for you to go and irritate the crows outside with your unwelcome presence.

Long minutes went by when you were staring at the sea and cliffs in the distance, listening to the shrieking and cawing of the black birds over your head. What was taking them so long? Among the noise, you heard someone's footsteps behind you: it was Morpheus but curiously, he came alone.

"Where's Johanna?" you asked.

"There were affairs she needed to see through before leaving," he answered while approaching you. Barely a meter or two away from you, he just stopped. Morpheus simply stood there, the sea breeze tugging at his dishevelled hair. He stared at you with flustering intensity as if he was trying to look through you and inspect the particles of your very soul.

After a while, his silent gawking became so uncomfortable you couldn't ignore it any longer. "Okay, what is it?"

"You are an absolutely aggravating creature," Morpheus stated while still looking at you with that stern, cold stare. His voice was so low, slightly raspy, that you felt it down to the marrow of your bones. "But I can not bring myself to hate you."

A playful smile crept unto your face. Maybe the raven guy wasn't the killjoy he introduced himself as. "Funnily enough, I was about to say the same thing. This whole 'woe me' brooding thing you have going on is infuriating. But it's also giving me very un-churchy thoughts."

Suddenly, something about his expression changed: a glint of mischief glistened in his blue eyes and one corner of his mouth pulled up ever so slightly. "Would you like to hear mine?"

You were about to answer him something equally suggestive when Johanna made her presence known: "Get a fucking room you two!"

[endless-ineffabilities]

Hi, I was wondering if would you be able to do something where the reader is with Morpheus when he tells Nada he still loves her? Only if you’re comfortable with writing about Nada or just angst in general ofc

Only you can set alight the fire in me

pairing: Morpheus x reader

warnings: allusion to smut, angst

summary: Reader is the half human, half immortal (take your pick - goddess, angel, witch, etc.) soulmate of Morpheus. When they come across Nada in hell, Morpheus makes a confession that the Reader simply doesn't like, to say the least.

Main Library

When I found out that he came back, I was elated.

It had been nearly a century since I last saw my beloved Morpheus, who suffered captivity in the wretched hands of Roderick Burgess. I tried everything in my power to free him, but even I cannot stray from the rules of magic.

I was able to communicate with him several times, and each time I had strained my power completely, to the point where he discouraged me from attempting to do so.

I knew that I just had to wait. Somehow, someday, my love would come back to me.

And he did.

He came back different, broken. But in my arms, he was still the same. I could sense a rage had developed within him - against his captors, from finding out that most of his subjects had left, from losing Jessamy.

From being away from me. I could also see that he tried to temper it down, for my sake, simply being content with basking in the glow of our reunion.

"My love," he whispered, voice breaking. We held each other for the longest time, Lucienne having excused herself much earlier to give us some space. Whispering sweet nothings, and promises of devotion repressed through the years. Sitting there in his throne room, almost wrapped in each other's skin, I never wanted to let him go.

"I'm sorry, I'm so so sorry," he breathed against my skin, nose nuzzled in my neck.

"You have nothing to be sorry for, my love. They did this to you."

"But all of that caused you pain. You have no idea how," he runs his fingers down my arm, "badly," his hand now gently moving up my knees to my thighs, "... I needed you."

"Morpheus," I whispered, voice getting caught in my throat, "welcome back."

His lips crash to mine, gentle yet demanding, and all else was forgotten.

--------

Of course, there was much work to be done. My love had been robbed of his tools during his time in captivity.

We ventured off to London to retrieve his sand from Johanna Constantine, whom I've grown quite fond of, due to her tireless wit and devil-may-care attitude. I made a note to catch up with her another time.

And now, where else would we be but in the cold, depths of hell -myself, Morpheus, and his new raven Matthew, determined to take back his helm from a demon. Being here feels excruciating, as if hell is pricking through my damn skin. The ceaseless tortured screams of the damned don't do much to help, either.

Morpheus firmly holds my hand, as we follow Squatterbloat through each cursed area of hell. I was distrustful of the demon immediately, knowing that their kind was prone to acts of deceipt and malevolence, no matter how mild-mannered they may show themselves to be in the moment.

We start to climb the cells of the damned, a sprawling block of dreary towers covered by a sky of smouldering fumes. We pass cell after cell, and I try to avert my eyes from every tormented soul, as I don't think I can bear it.

"Take heart, my love," Morpheus squeezes my hand, sensing my discomfort, "We'll be out of here soon."

"I know," I try to focus on him, and nothing else, "Let's get your helm, and get out of this hellhole."

"I am grateful that you came with me. You give me all the strength that I need." He lifts my hand, and leaves a loving kiss.

"I would go anywhere with you, my love."

"Aww, you guys are so cute." Matthew intervenes, "It almost made me forget that we are literally in hell. Almost."

"Well, I nearly forgot that you were flapping about with us, Matthew. Almost." I turn to him playfully.

"Ha-ha," he responds dryly, "Leave it to you two to get all loved-up in hell, of all places."

Matthew and I had gotten into a routine of friendly banter, ever since Lucienne assigned him to be Morpheus' new raven. I appreciate the reprieve that it offers in this situation.

"Just walk on, you two," Morpheus says, feigning disinterest, but I could tell he was amused.

We walk on, and I dread the view that surrounds us, but I dread coming face-to-face with Lucifer even more.

I shuffle closer behind Morpheus, when a strained voice echoes from inside a cell.

"Kai-ckul?" A woman breathes heavily, peering through the jarred bars of her entrapment. "Dream Lord?"

Morpheus halts. He recognizes her voice.

"It is you." Her eyes well up in tears. I can't even imagine what she is going through.

"I greet you, Nada." Morpheus responds, his grip loosening on my hand.

So this is Nada. Morpheus had once revealed to me all of his past lovers. He said that he didn't want to hide anything from me, he wanted me to know what exactly being with him entails. All the good and the bad that came with it.

"But now, there is only you. There will only ever be you, my love. If you'll have me," I remember that he had said to me then, eyes ablaze in passion.

I stay silent as they speak, even when Morpheus drops my hand entirely.

Then I hear her ask, "Do you not still love me?"

I feel myself tense at her question, and Matthew and I exchange a knowing look.

A moment passes, and I assume that he is simply choosing the right words to reject her, while still being considerate.

Until he responds, "It has been 10,000 years, Nada. Yes, I still love you."

Her face lights up in realization, and I try to steady myself, disappointed at what I just heard.

"But I have not yet forgiven you." he turns away from her, and starts walking.

"Come, my love. Come, Matthew." he calls out to us, gazing straight ahead.

"You," Nada's eyes find mine, "are with him?"

"Yes," I answer weakly. I don't wish my words to bring her any further pain.

"He loves me," she grips the bars of her cell, as if wanting to break them off, "He said so himself. One day, he will forgive me and we will be together once more."

"I'm sorry," I don't know what else to say, feeling empty inside from hearing Morpheus' confession.

I walk faster to catch up with Morpheus, with Matthew promptly following behind.

Morpheus reaches for my hand, but I pretend that I don't notice and say, "Let's go. I've just decided that I really hate this damn place." I walk past him.

"That's rough," Matthew quips beside me.

"Tell me about it."

--------

We succeeded, as I believed we would.

Triumphant, and helm in hand, Morpheus, Matthew and I made our way back into the Dreaming.

I had been so afraid for my love when he engaged the Ruler of Hell in combat, that I nearly forgot the exchange that he had with his former lover.

Nearly.

Upon returning, Lucienne greets us with a relieved smile. However, she looks as if she's thrown off by my expression.

"Is something wrong?" she asks me in concern.

Everyone looks at me expectedly, but I'm not really in the mood to share so I just shrug, "Not at all, I'm fine. I'll just head to my library."

Morpheus tries to catch my eye, but I am already heading off. He calls out to me, "I'll be with you shortly, my love."

I enter my library and feel a sense of calm wash over me. Morpheus had constructed this library just for me, and it contains only the books that I love, as well as the ones that I have yet to read but am bound to love afterward.

This room is but a single proof of his efforts to win me over, and that he did, but now I can't help but wonder if I am truly special, or if he had achieved similar feats for his past lovers too. Perhaps he had, and normally I would be fine with that, but then again, he said that he loves her. Does he still love all of them? If he does, then his love will never be just for me.

The door flies open, and he strides in, unbothered and unaware of my thoughts.

He sits next to me on this plush, dark gray loveseat, but I don't look at him.

"Something's wrong?" he asks slowly, "Something's bothering you, my love. Tell me."

"You love her."

"What?"

"You still love her. Nada." I turn to him so he fully see the extent of my emotions. Maybe I am overthinking things, but his declaration of love didn't sit well with me.

"I..." he seems at a loss, choosing his next words carefully, "I will always have a love for her, yes. But it's different with you, of course."

"How so?"

"What do you mean? You know how important you are to me. You are everything." he reaches for my hands, eyes imploring me to understand.

"Morpheus," I pull away, and pace the room, "what if I had encountered any of my exes - Aeneas, Gabriel..."

"Don't mention those names in front of me," he cuts me off, his voice darkening.

"What if I meet them, and tell them I still love them?" I press on, as he looks up at me, brows furrowed, "How would you feel then?"

"You wouldn't dare do that, my love," he stands, adding the term of endearment in a slightly menacing tone, far from the usual doting one.

"That's how I feel!" I raise my arms in exasperation, "I mean, do you still love all of them? Your past lovers?"

"It's not the same. I am an Endless. It's almost impossible for me to simply get rid of old ties. My love runs deep for whomever I devote myself to. With Nada, she's an extraordinary woman... but she's nothing compared to you."

I find it hard to wrap my head around it, and take a few deep breaths. If he thinks that flattery, and a couple of sweet lines will completely diffuse the situation, he is sorely mistaken.

"I'm sorry," he reaches out to me, and I let him wrap his arms around me tightly, "I'm sorry I said that, and that it upset you. I do have a kind of love for all my former lovers, but all that pales in comparison to my love for you."

"I don't know," I mutter against his chest, "what to think."

"Then don't." He leans down, and kisses me. I try to stay angry, but he kisses me harder, moaning low and deep against my lips, and I lose myself in him.

His hands run down my sides, settling on my waist, pushing my back down onto the loveseat.

He proceeds to kiss my neck, biting a trail along the way.

"No one else can kiss you like this," he rests his forehead against mine, and runs his fingers down my chest, "No one else can touch you like I do. You're mine."

I wrap my fingers around his wrist, halting his movements, "And you're mine. Don't ever tell a former lover that you love them ever again. Not like that. I understand the extent of your compassion for each one of them, but you wouldn't want me to do the same to mine."

He gazes at me for the longest time, before a soft smile emerges on his lips, "Understood. And I'm yours."

He kisses me again, and again, and again.

Endlessly.

The end.

first oneshot/request done! It's not as angsty as I intended but hopefully it's got enough 😂

Yes, I do take requests, for Morpheus, Corinthian, and potentially other characters in other fandoms too. Drop me a message!

And, Ineffable's next chapter will be out in a couple of days. Corinthian will be making an appearance - I simply couldn't resist.