#I mean what do you expect from the king of dreams and nightmares?

[soaps-mohawk]

I just saw someone talk about Simon Riley being a rapist and the only way they tried to confirm it is by saying that he is a war criminal and all soldiers are misogynistic and sexist and they also talked about how he dreamt of hurting women in the comics when that's quite literally a normal reaction by being raped by both men and women (what I mean is that abused people sometimes dream of becoming someone they're not and don't want to be) but they conveniently forgot to mention how that "dream" was a nightmare. (Just wanted to rant about this and see your opinion)

The sigh I let out when I saw this ask this morning.

I'm so sick and tired of seeing this discourse. Not just in this fandom but in every fandom. Maybe it's just because I'm old and my frontal lobe is fully developed, or maybe it's because I was in fandom back in the days where there were no tags. You were lucky if you got a warning at the beginning of a fic. Most fics you walked in blind and if you didn't like something? You hit the back button and found something else.

This sudden mainstreaming of fandom has ruined these spaces. People come in, refuse to "learn the rules" that most of us learned by just existing in these spaces and watching others interact. There were no written rules back then. We learned by observing and occasionally being guided on fandom etiquette by those more experienced than us. Now it's just like people come in expecting fandom to be like every other space on the internet and then get defensive and angry when they realize it's not. Fandom is cringy. It's nerdy. It's happy and sunshine and it's dark and ugly like every media out there. Us creators and those of us more experienced in fandom have been screaming how to exist in fandom spaces from the rooftops but no one is listening and then everyone wonders why creators are leaving these spaces. Why fandoms keep getting abandoned.

All of that aside, this discourse about FICTIONAL characters pisses me off. Simon Riley is a FICTIONAL character. He has no morality, there is no right or wrong because he's FICTIONAL. You can make him do whatever you want to do because he's NOT REAL. You can give him wings and have him fly and guess what?? Cool, that can happen because he's NOT REAL. You want to make him a rapist? Cool, you can do that because he's FICTIONAL. You can make him whatever you want to make him because he's a character. He's not a living, breathing human being. There are no consequences of his actions because he's FICTIONAL!!!

Don't even get me started on this sudden discourse about dark fics and dead dove that's appeared recently. Dark media has existed for literal centuries. The Epic of Gilgamesh from 1800 BCE. The Odyssey. Mostellaria by Plautus. The Castle of Otranto published in the 1700s. Frankenstein. Dracula. The works of Edgar Allan Poe. Lolita. Hell, look at the Bible. The Bible, especially the old testament, is fucked up. Even in the watered down, bastardized King James version, the things the old testament "God" supposedly did, when you sit and actually think about them outside the lens of religious brainrot, are super fucked up.

People have been creating dark media for a long time. Horror has existed for a long time because it plays to our worst fears. It gives us a safe way to express those fears and to experience them without having to experience them first hand. You wouldn't bitch at a horror movie director for including things like rape and gore and murder in their movies?? So why is writing different? You think every horror movie director agrees with the things they portray on screen? You think every horror movie director would go out and murder someone just because they made a movie about it? No, because we're allowed to portray things in all forms of media, we're allowed to write things without morally agreeing with them. Guess what, most people that write rape or assault or violence, aren't going out and doing those things in real life. They don't support those things in real life. In fact, people that write dark fanfics are some of the loudest protesters against those things.

If you want to make Simon Riley a real person, guess what? He's not going to be even morally grey. Most people in the military are not good people. They're not. The people that are good people in the military, or were in the military, are the ones saying that the loudest. People that got tricked into joining, people that got promised things, people that did it because they had no other choice and then realized what it was really like after getting in? Those are the people to listen to. Not Call of Duty, not the people trying to convince you to join because they're glorified sales people and have a quota to fill. Look up videos of what happened in Iraq and Afghanistan at the hands of American and British soldiers. You would not like Simon Riley if he were a real person.

But he's not real. He's FICTIONAL. Even as a fictional character, he's not a good person. So many Call of Duty fans put on the blinders and ignore the fact that these men are out here committing awful acts of violence and killing people because they're "the good guys." People love to forget that Price literally kidnapped a woman and a child and had them held at gunpoint to get information out of someone. Not only that, he was okay with it. If he were a real person that did that, you would not be questioning if he were a good person or not. You can tell the people that have never played the games or watched playthroughs, who only know these characters through the lenses of fanfics and artwork and headcanons.

Call of Duty is military propaganda. They paint these men as heroes, make it easy to put the blinders up and ignore the things that are happening, the things they're doing so that they can convince young men that they want to do that and they should join the military so they can go out and do that too. That's Call of Duty's audience. That's who they're creating these games for. These young, impressionable boys who get excited by the violence and the action who will go on to fill quota numbers for recruiters. Call of Duty was not made for us, the people writing fanfiction and creating art for it. This side of the Call of Duty fandom will be the first to tell you all of this.

This side of the fandom creates fanworks which would turn Activision's eyes red. We babygirlify their military propaganda because it actively goes against what Activision is trying to do. It goes against what Call of Duty is at its core. Sure, some people water it down a lot, and others keep it more realistic to what these men would be like in real life, because it's FICTION. You can portray these characters however you want because that's what fiction is for.

And guess what, anon? Rape kinks exist. Consensual non-consent exists. It's well known. And guess what? Victims of sexual assault and rape can develop those kinks as a coping mechanism. Here's a study from the NIH website, and if that's too complex for you, here's a VICE news article that uses that study. People can write rape and rape kinks and CNC and noncon and not support it in real life. People can write those things to bring awareness to the fact that they happen to people in real life, or because people in real life have those kinks. People write those things to help victims, to support them. It's cathartic. Dark media most often is created for catharsis. It gives people an outlet, and it allows people to experience those things in a safe, controlled environment for whatever reason.

And that's the thing, anon. People don't have to give anyone a reason for why the consume that kind of media. Creators don't owe anyone an explanation as to why they create it. It's none of your business, and if you're not comfortable with it, then don't consume it. You can turn off the TV if a horror movie is too much for you. People walk out of theaters all the time because a movie is not what they were expecting, be it because it was bad or because it was too graphic or violent or disgusting. You start reading a book and you don't like it for whatever reason? You put the book down and pick up another. Why do people have such a problem with not reading fanfics they don't like? Why do people have such a hard time just blocking creators that make things they don't want to see. Most dark fic and dead dove creators put ample warnings on their blog and their posts. That's why those tags exist. You don't like it and you don't want to see it? Then block and move on and let others enjoy what they want to enjoy.

You pearl clutchers are ruining fandom and soon there won't be anything for you to enjoy. If you can't handle fandom, then don't be in it. There is no algorithm here. You're going to see things you don't want to see and it's very easy to just block and filter tags. There was a time on Tumblr where you couldn't filter tags. I remember those days. You had to download the X-kit extension to block things, and that only worked on desktop. The fact Tumblr gave us the option to filter tags on the site and on the app was a big deal when it was rolled out. I remember so many people that didn't want to use the app when it first came out because you couldn't block potentially triggering tags.

It's not a creator's problem if you were triggered by their media. Life doesn't come with trigger warnings and it's a blessing that it's become so normalized to include warnings at the beginnings of fics. There's websites that exist for other forms of media that will give trigger warnings. If you can look up trigger warnings for a movie and decide not to watch it, you can look at the trigger warnings for fics and decide not to interact with it. You're not out here emailing the directors and producers of movies that include triggers you don't like, telling them they're awful people for including those things in their movie and they shouldn't. Yet you have no problem coming into the comments and inboxes creators who do this FOR FREE because we wrote one dark fic. Because we wrote something that's triggering to you.

And yes, some abuse victims go on to be abusers, some people continue that cycle because they don't have the help and support to break it. It's a sad thing that happens, but it happens. It happens in the fictional world and it happens in real life. People can make that happen to fictional characters for whatever reasons they want.

I've written dark fics. I've written several. I consume "disturbing" media for fun. I've read books and watched movies that would send these pearl clutchers to the hospital. Hell, I've probably written things (some published, some that will never see the light of day) that would turn these pearl clutchers inside out. Guess what? That's okay because it's FICTION. It's cathartic. I don't have to give my reasons why because it's no one's business except those I decide to tell because I trust them and I know they'll support me. I don't support those things in real life. Just because I write for Call of Duty doesn't mean I support the things the game portrays. If you consume Call of Duty media be it the games or fanfiction, does that mean you support what the game supports? What the creators of the games support? What militaries around the world support?

Think about that next time.

I’ve made my stance very clear here before, but I’ll do it again. In real life, I am anti military, anti war, anti gun violence, anti genocide, anti fascism, anti terf, anti homophobia, anti conservative, anti rape, anti domestic violence, anti colonialism and pro choice.

Just because I may create or consume media with those things in it, does not mean I support them. It's high time some of these pearl clutchers learn that.

The next time you want to come into a creator's inbox or comments and spew hatred towards them because of the things they write, why don't you do something useful with your time instead.

This will be my only discussion on this topic. I will not be answering any more asks like this. I will delete and block anyone who tries to come "well actually"-ing into my inbox. If you don't agree with this stance, then get off my blog and block me.

[five-and-dimes]

Run Away (But We're Running in Circles)

After a million years I finally finished this one!

Dream doesn't believe he is truly loved- Hob and Death simply love everyone, it has nothing to do with him. Cue those closest to him doing whatever they can to prove that he is, in fact, very very loved

AO3

The past two months have been a whirlwind for Hob Gadling in the best way possible.

So many things he once thought impossible (or at the very least highly unlikely) had come to fruition. His stranger had returned to him, his stranger apologized, his stranger called him his friend. Those three things alone had made Hob's heart feel like a star, burning and bright and alive. 

And then the ethereal man had sat across from him, a gentle smile on his face, weary but sincere, before he smoothed his expression into something unreadable.

"I believe introductions are in order," Hob almost squealed like a fan girl as the man hesitantly held out his hand, "Dream of the Endless, King of Dreams and Nightmares. I have other names as well should you find this one unsatisfactory."

It's so ridiculous Hob would laugh if not for the dead serious note in his stranger- his friend's- voice. The idea that Hob would find anything about this being 'unsatisfactory', that he would declare his name not good enough and ask for another. Absolutely ludicrous. 

Also a little sad, but he pushes past that.

He clasps his hand, face about to split from smiling so wide, "Dream," it feels so good to say, "a name that suits you perfectly," he adds because it's true. Then he smirks, "I'm Hob Gadling. I'd offer you another name but you've never complained about this one."

A breath escapes the other man, as much of a laugh as Hob has ever heard from him and this is the best day in Hob's very long life.

"Tell me of your life, Hob Gadling, for it has been too long since last we met."

Yes, it has, and for a moment Hob's joy dims. Then why did you leave me? Where have you been? Why now? What changed? Why now? The questions bubble uncomfortably in his throat. 

He swallows them back.

Eventually he will allow himself to ask for answers- demand them even, perhaps, he thinks he deserves it- but not today. Today he wants to bask in the warmth of reunion. In the gentle glow of his friend’s shy smile. 

So all he says is an earnest, “Yes. I have missed you dearly, my friend.”

When their meeting comes to an end, the sky outside dark and the employees of the inn not so subtly putting chairs up around them, Dream asks if Hob would be amenable to meeting more frequently, wringing his hands in front of him and not meeting Hob’s eyes, as though expecting to be denied.

Ridiculous creature. 

And so they continue meeting, and Hob… has mixed feelings. He is glad to know more of his friend, to finally be given the answers he has been gnashing his teeth for. But sometimes when Dream speaks it feels more like bloodletting than sharing- like he is offering himself on an altar, inviting Hob to drive a dagger through his heart, like he needs to make a sacrifice to this thing called friendship. 

He feels it most when he learns why Dream missed their meeting.

Hob feels the blood leave his face as Dream speaks of being torn from his realm, bound by magic, stripped and degraded and imprisoned and hurt-

“Dream,” Hob interrupts, his voice choked, “You don’t have to tell me.”

Across the table, Dream doesn’t look at him, “You are my friend.”

“Yes,” Hob agrees immediately, “And I will still be your friend if you don’t want to talk about this.” He tries to catch Dream’s eye, “Being your friend doesn’t mean you owe me anything.”

“Being a bad friend means I owe you everything,” Dream counters, and Hob wants to cry.

Hob does cry, “Fuck, Dream…” He almost missed the prideful and aloof king of centuries past. As much as he enjoys the easy smiles and the taste of a name on his lips, he would give it all away if it meant saving Dream from this pain.

Dream flinches but does not pull away when Hob reaches out to take his hands, “I’m not keeping a scoreboard with our friendship. You don’t have to pay me back if you make a mistake. And you especially don’t have to hurt yourself for me. We’re friends. So I don’t want you to hurt.”

When Dream looks up at him, he looks so confused. Head tilted and brow furrowed as he tries to make sense of the idea that someone does not want him to pay for his sins in blood. 

“I do. Want to tell you these things,” Dream explains haltingly, head ducking again as he continues softer, “But perhaps. No more today.”

“Of course, love.”

Dream observes him again, eyes searching his face as though looking at a pile of puzzle pieces. Hob doesn’t know what he finds, or what picture he makes with the pieces, but for now he nods, shoulders slumping as the subject changes.

It gets easier. Or, it seems to at least. Dream tells him about Jessamy’s death quickly and her life extensively. He talks about his realm, his function, his subjects. And, eventually, he talks about his family. Some he only gives the names of, and nothing else. Some he gives brief histories of, or descriptions. And one in particular Hob learns much about.

He learns the most on the day he is given the joy of experiencing Dream having just come from an afternoon spent with his elder sister.

“I do not know why she is so insistent on spending time with me these days,” Dream grumbles, and Hob has to hide a smile behind his drink, because despite being the entities of Dream and Death (which had been quite the shock to learn), right now he is sitting across from a little brother exasperated with his big sister. “We are so different. I find it hard to believe she enjoys my gloom compared to her exuberance. Perhaps she merely delights in tormenting me,” he laments.

Hob laughs, "I think it's cute," he grins, "she clearly loves you."

Dream hums, not unhappily, and moves in a way that is too elegant to be called a shrug, "In a sense."

The tone doesn't match the words, and Hob scrunches his face in confusion, "What do you mean?"

Tilting his head slightly, Dream answers casually, "Simply that she loves me in a way similar to how you do."

And that has Hob's eyebrows shooting up to his forehead because he really, really hopes Death doesn't love her brother the way Hob does. "I'm not following."

Dream hums again, a quiet moment as he chooses his words, "Death has a love for all of humanity," he states, "and all that existence has to offer. Put simply, she loves everyone. It is in her nature. You, too, have a wealth of affection for all that you meet and all that you experience. So it is not a matter of loving me , but rather, simply loving in such a way that happens to include me by default."

There is a stretch of silence as Hob turns those words over in his mind. He struggles to fully grasp them at first, the sentiment conflicting with the way Dream presented it as irrefutable fact, something obvious and common knowledge, something Hob couldn't possibly deny.

But, shaking his head frantically to clear his thoughts, Hob was absolutely going to deny it.

"No!" Dream started at the vehemence in Hob's voice, "That's not true at all!" His voice was firm, and almost angry, which in hindsight didn't help the situation.

"...Oh," Dream's voice was soft, and carefully neutral, "I understand," he conceded. His body was like marble, and Hob could see the way he was consciously trying to mask his sorrow and Hob wanted to punch himself in the face.

"Wait, no, not like that! I didn't mean it like that!" 

He hated this. Hated all of it. Hated that his friend believed he wasn't loved on purpose. Hated how quickly he accepted the idea of not being loved at all.

Reaching across the table, Hob clasped his hands around Dream's, sure but gentle. Dream blinked in surprise, staring down at the point of contact, and Hob waited patiently until their eyes met again to start speaking.

"I love you," and this was the true irrefutable fact, the true obvious and common knowledge, the truth that Dream could not deny. "You, specifically. You on purpose. I love you because you're you, and I love you apart from everyone else. And your sister does too, I know it. You are very loved, my friend, and it is not an accident."

Their eyes search each other's. Dream finds conviction, finds honesty, finds something he is afraid to identify as love. Hob finds old aches, finds disbelief, finds something close to fear. Dream looks lost.

“You really did miss me. When I was gone.” Dream whispers with awe, and it hits Hob like a punch to the gut that Dream hadn’t believed him before, had obviously assumed that Hob was just being polite or reciting a social script without really meaning it. 

“Yes,” he says, soft and firm, “I really did.”

A soft sound of sand shifts at their feet beneath the table and Hob knows that Dream desperately wants to run away. Instead, he closes his eyes and grips Hob's hands tighter. Hob is so very proud of him.

"I fear I have dominated the conversation this evening," his voice is raspy, forced out between clenched teeth, "tell me of your week, Hob Gadling."

It is a plea desperately masquerading as a demand. There is only so much Dream can take at once, and Hob understands, and Hob loves him, and so he smiles and returns Dream's grip.

"You will not believe what one of my students submitted as their thesis for the end of the semester-"

~~~~

Hob doesn’t actually know if summoning Death is a thing he can do. Dream had, finally, after 600 years, explained the parameters of Hob’s immortality. It was actually pretty much what Hob had assumed given the question posed to him at each of their meetings; He would live as long as he wanted to, and when he no longer wanted to, Death would guide him to the Sunless Lands. 

Well, Hob very much did not want to go to the Sunless Lands, but he did want to speak to Death. 

“I refuse to look up any sort of magic bullshit for this,” Hob starts, feeling supremely silly for talking to himself in his empty flat. But he didn’t exactly have any other ideas. “So I’m going to assume in your weird Endless-ness that you can somehow hear me. I’m not looking to die today, or ever really, but I’d appreciate it if I could talk to you, Death of the Endless.” He pauses, and then adds on, “It’s about your brother.”

Apparently those are the magic words, as a voice almost immediately speaks up from behind him.

“Oh lord, what has he done now?”

Hob nearly jumps out of his skin, twisting around in his seat on the couch to see a beautiful woman leaning against his kitchen counter. While her style of all black matches her brother’s, that is where the resemblance ends. Bright eyes and glowing dark skin, a warm smile on her face. He hadn’t fully grasped how unhealthy his friend tended to look until this moment.

Shaking off the initial shock, Hob smiles back, “So you’re the famous Death, eh? I’ve heard a lot about you.”

“Only bad things I’m sure,” she teases.

“From humans, perhaps, but not from your brother.”

She smiles fondly, and Hob can tell immediately that she cares for Dream. He wonders what Dream sees when he looks at her.

“You said you wanted to talk about him?” Death asks, “Not that it’s not nice to finally meet you, but I can’t be pulled away from work for too long.”

Hob shudders instinctually at the mention of her ‘work’, but he shakes it off as he begins to explain, “Right. So, normally I wouldn’t tell you this behind Dream’s back, but I don’t think he’ll ever tell you himself and I think you should know so that you can… help, I guess.” Death frowns, and her face darkens as Hob quickly recounts the conversation he had with Dream, and his assumptions on the nature of her and Hob’s love for him. 

By the end, she looks heartbroken, but when she speaks her voice is dripping with annoyance.

“My little brother truly is an idiot-”

“Don’t,” Hob cuts in. It’s probably not his brightest idea to interrupt death herself, but he knows in his gut that he can’t let her gain momentum on this, “I didn’t tell you so you could scold him, I told you so you could love him.”

“I already love him!” she snaps.

“Love him louder then!” Hob snaps back fearlessly, throwing his arms up. “Don’t be mad at him for hurting! For whatever reason, he doesn’t recognize that we love him, but the reason doesn’t matter , not right now at least. We need to stop the bleeding before we worry about what made the wound.”

There is a long pause, the two simply staring at each other. Death looks a bit shocked, eyes wide and jaw tense. Hob stares back determinedly. He may not have known Dream as long as his sister, but he is positive down to his bones that Dream won’t see the “love” part in “tough love”. He’ll probably just see the admonishment. 

He wonders if that miscommunication hasn’t been a wedge between the two siblings for a long time.

Finally, Death seems to deflate, her shoulders slumping even as she quirks a smile, “My brother would appreciate the metaphor.”

Hob chuckled, “Heh, I’ve noticed. It’s helped, honestly, figuring out whatever metaphor works best for him at any given moment, y’know?”

“Yeah. I do.” Death sighs, and for a moment she looks so old . So ancient. And when she meets Hob’s gaze he thinks she looks uncertain. “I do love him. You know that, right?”

“I do,” Hob answers softly. “But I’m not the one you need to convince.”

~~~~

Hob speaks every love language, but if he’s honest, cooking will always be one of his favorites. 

He thinks of being a young peasant and his parents pushing food from their own plates onto his and his siblings’ so that they would never feel the sharp pang of hunger, and of the few kind souls during the 1600s who offered food to him, the fellow homeless who nonetheless would split their meager findings with him. Sharing food has simply always evoked the warmth of love for him. 

It was part of why the rejection had stung so badly in 1589. A table full of food meant to be shared, and he had been left sitting there alone. A table full of love with nowhere to go.

Now, though, he is more determined than ever. Now he knows Dream, in a way he hadn’t for so long, and he is desperate in his desire to make sure Dream feels the love he is offering. 

And so he offers him food.

“Come on, just a bite!” Hob nudges the plate closer to Dream. They are sitting across from each other at the kitchen island in Hob’s flat. He had spent the better part of the day preparing the most decadent mac and cheese he could- creamy and buttery, layers of cheese and pasta folded together with autumn vegetables and a coating of perfectly toasted breadcrumbs on top. Each ingredient was added with Dream in mind, with the desire to warm him from the inside out, to give him something indulgent that might put some meat on his bones.

He’s so thin. Not fragile, exactly, Hob is certain that this mystical being is stronger than he looks, and yet… There is something to be said about how one envisions themselves in dreams. Regardless of his physical capabilities, Hob can’t help but ponder over Dream’s manifestation, and how frail and hurt it looks.

“It’s a pretty standard ritual of friendship to share a meal together,” he says pointedly, smiling when Dream huffs at him. It feels maybe a little underhanded, as he knows Dream is trying very hard to be a good friend, but he doesn’t feel too badly when he sees the soft smile on Dream’s face. For all that he had vehemently rejected their friendship at first (or perhaps because of that initial rejection) he seemed just as moved to be called friend by Hob as Hob was to be called friend by him. 

“I suppose I am bound by ritual then.” There is a strange note in his voice that Hob can’t quite place, but he is still smiling, so he wonders if that is just what Dream sounds like when he tries to make a joke.

Either way, he finally reaches forward to pick up his fork, taking a delicate bite of the gooey mess Hob had served him.

“Well?” Hob asks, barely hidden eagerness in his voice.

Dream swallows, his posture becoming impossibly straighter as he looks at Hob fondly, “You are a fine cook, my friend.”

Hob can’t suppress a grin, leaning back casually in contrast to his friend’s sharp and stiff bearing, “I’m glad. It’s a useful skill when you have companions in need of spoiling.” To his delight, a soft, almost imperceptible blush blooms across Dream’s cheeks. If Hob wasn’t so practiced in observing him he might have missed it. He’s glad he didn’t. 

The evening is a quiet one, sharing stories between bites, and Hob is happy. He wills the food to fill his friend. He sends a prayer that Dream’s body might become soft with his love.

~~~~

“Come on, I want to show you something!”

Dream is becoming more accustomed to his elder sister’s spontaneous visits. After her chastisement, the day she pushed him to reunite with Hob, he had expected to not see her again until it was obligated of her. For all her joy and bright smiles, he could not imagine she would actually enjoy his company. Perhaps because of her joy and smiles.

He did not expect her to willingly subject herself to him.

And yet, she had come to him. She had called to him through their galleries, inviting him into the humble space she called her home when she was not ushering souls to her realm, and inquired about his meeting with Hob Gadling. She had smiled, and squeezed his hand, and told him she was glad he had someone to call friend. He assumed she must be glad that there was someone else to deal with him, and this meeting was merely to ensure that there was someone else out there holding his leash. 

Then she called him again. 

And again.

It kept happening, and while a part of him felt guilty and selfish, he could not deny that he enjoyed his sister’s company. And so he allowed himself to set aside his quest to understand why she was doing it. His elder siblings have ever been a mystery to him, and whatever her reasoning, even if it was simply to keep him in line, he decided to allow himself this small joy in his sister’s presence.

Today, linking their arms together, Death practically skips as she pulls Dream from his realm. Despite himself, he can’t help but smile fondly at her enthusiasm, allowing her to guide him to the waking and into a large building. He can feel the shroud of Endlessness around them, and knows that they are walking unseen. It piques his curiosity. Death normally insisted on walking among mortals specifically to interact with them, even if only a little. The fact that she now hides them is unusual.

Glancing around, Dream finds that they are in a natural history museum, surrounded by various educational exhibits. There are murals of ancient, long gone animals and cases with their bones, plaques with information and names, interactive screens and displays. Eventually, they enter a room dedicated to plants and flora of the distant past. Death walks purposefully towards the back, glancing at Dream with an excited smile as she points to one of the displays.

“Look.”

On the pedestal in front of them is a small, square piece of amber, and within the amber there is a flower. It is small, five petals floating in the resin that Dream remembers holding in the palm of his hand so very long ago. Not as old as Dream, but older than humans, old enough that no creature on this plane dreams of it. 

Dream used to keep them on the windowsill of his bedchambers.

“They were your favorite.” 

Death’s voice breaks him from his revelry, and he realizes that he has been standing as still and frozen as the flower for several minutes.

Her words were not a question, but Dream nods anyway, “Yes.” The word cracks just slightly, and it takes effort, but he turns his gaze away from the flower to look at his sister, his brow furrowing in confusion, “You… remembered?”

“Of course,” Death speaks softly, as though to not break the fragile air around them, but still smiles warmly, “You gave me some, once, and I understood why you loved them. They were lovely.”

Nodding again, Dream swallows thickly, turning back to the fossil before continuing, “They faded from the Dreaming when the last creature to remember them passed to the Sunless Lands. They exist now only in the deepest pages of the Library.”

“And here,” Death corrects, tilting her head towards the exhibit, “They exist here, now, too. Humans found them. They’ll remember them,” she puts a hand on Dream’s shoulder, squeezing lightly and grinning a little wider, “Maybe someone will dream of them again!”

But not as they were , Dream thinks to himself. Any dreams of this small, fragile flower will not be the same as the ones Dream kept growing in his window, the ones he tucked behind his elder sister’s ear, the ones he held close to his chest when he was overwhelmed. They will never be the same again.

Reaching out, he lets his fingers brush against the fossil, the golden color hiding the true hues of the precious petals within, and it feels cool and cold like glass and suddenly Dream thinks he sees a hint of his reflection in the amber. Unneeded breath catches in his chest, and he wonders if this is how he would have been remembered if he had not escaped from Fawney Rig. Lost and forgotten and buried only to be dug up like this . Frozen and painted over with someone else’s color. 

Assuming he was remembered at all. 

His vision blurs, and his fingers tremble as he traces over the shape of the trapped flora, nothing but cold cold cold where once there had been soft and fragrant petals. 

“Dream?” 

Death moves to stand in front of him, pulling him away from the fossil and blocking his view. He blinks, and realizes that he is crying, but the tears are thick, and slow, and his vision has taken on a yellow hue. Raising a hand to his face, he catches a tear on his fingertips and stares down at it.

He is crying amber.

“Hey, it’s alright, little brother, you’re okay-” Death looks caught between panic and heartbreak, eyes wide and bracing her hands on Dream’s shoulders. It only makes him cry harder. Amber runs down his cheeks, dripping sluggishly from his chin into his cupped hands, sticking to his eyelashes, and he feels half-fossilized already. 

Gentle hands run through his hair, guide him to kneel on the floor, and he feels the shift from Waking to Dreaming, his sister taking him home. He thinks it might not be so bad, to be petrified and buried here in the Dreaming. He thinks he might be worth more as an excavated relic than he ever was as a living being.

But. There is still a hand stroking his hair, another wiping the thick tears from his face, heedless of the mess. There is a voice beside his ear shushing him, “Oh, little brother, it’s okay, it’s okay, it’s okay.” He inhales, choking on the resin in his throat, closing his eyes as he lets the cool air of the Dreaming reach his lungs and slow his tears.

The resin is drying on his cheeks, and it is a struggle to open his eyes again, shards of amber encasing his eyelashes. He glances down at the pool cupped in his hands, and then sees the resin smeared over his sister’s fingers and nearly starts crying again.

“I. I apologize-”

Shushing him, Death reaches out to take his hands, tipping his palms until the amber pours out, dripping onto the stone floor of the throne room until she can curl their fingers together. Dream’s breath hitches, and he tries to pull away. He envisions the resin on their hands hardening, encasing their fingers together in amber, and how cruel it would be to subject his beloved sister to being stuck with him .

Death holds on tighter.

“It’s alright,” she leans forward, pressing their foreheads together, “take a second, Dream. Everything is alright.”

It’s really not. But reluctantly, Dream takes her advice. He breathes deeply, tries to loosen the hold his anguish has on him, dilutes it with the comfort his sister so readily offers until the resin begins to thin. Slowly, with each breath the amber turns to salt water. He still feels stiff. He still feels trapped. He thinks he simply moved the amber into his blood. Death is still holding him.

He inhales shakily, “I’m sorry.”

“Nothing to be sorry for,” Death responds, soft and casual. They are still kneeling on the floor, and she leans back just a bit, still holding his hands but giving him a little more space, “I didn’t mean to upset you-”

“It was no fault of yours,” Dream interrupts, “I. Appreciate the gesture.” Looking up, he adds on, “I did not expect you to remember such an insignificant detail about me.”

“It’s not insignificant. It’s you. And you’re not insignificant.”

Those words are what finally make him pull away. His movements remind her of a mannequin, stiff and jerky, popping joints back into place after falling apart until he is once more solid and immovable. He folds his hands in his lap, and he does not look at her.

“I am aware of the importance of my function. I have not forgotten your words to me.” 

Death consciously holds back a sigh of frustration. Settling back onto her heels, she takes a moment to look at her brother. She thinks of all the harm that happened in his absence, all the dreamers whose hands she took while her brother sat silent in a cage. She thinks of her words to him when they met again in the Waking after his escape. She thinks of Hob telling her that her brother didn’t feel loved, and how she had immediately put the blame on Dream. After all, how could he possibly think she does not love him for him ?

She thinks she’s starting to understand.

“I worry about you, Dream,” she whispers, reaching out to smooth back his wild hair, “I worry that one day…”

One day, Death will have to take the hands of all of her siblings. She knows that.

But she hopes that day is far away.

Dream looks up at her, head tilted like one of his ravens, “But I would still. Be there. Like the flower in the amber.”

“But not the same.” Death closes her eyes, the words soft with heartbroken realization, “Not you .”

Reaching up, Dream gently removes her hand from his hair, “Would that be so bad?”

“Yes.” She doesn’t hesitate, opening her eyes to look at him fiercely and gripping his hand. Dream sighed, but did not try to pull away. He still looks stiff and tense, and he swallows thickly, like there is still resin in his throat.

Death cannot help but laugh wetly. This day had not gone the way she had hoped.  “Next time I want to make a point I’ll just get you something in your favorite color.”

“You do not know-”

“Green.” 

Dream’s head snaps up, eyes wide in shock, and when Death smiles back, it is smug, but also fond, and sad, and- he thinks, maybe- loving, “I’ve walked through your gardens, Dream. I’ve sat in Fiddler’s Green. I’ve seen the landscapes you’ve created. And I noticed. Because I love you.”

When Dream looks at her, she can’t help but think that he does not believe her, not fully. But there is something in his eyes, a desperate longing. Like he wants to believe her. Like he wants it to be true.

Don’t go , Death doesn’t say, Don’t go. Stay. Stay so I can prove it to you. Stay long enough for me to convince you. Just give me some more time.

Desire used to love me, Dream doesn’t say, and then time passed.

“I love you as well, my sister.”

“Yeah,” she smiles, and only barely fights back tears, “I know.”

~~~

Something is not right with Hob’s plan.

It has become a regular occurrence for Dream and Hob to spend an afternoon or evening together several times a week, making it easy for Hob to guide them to a meal. Lunch at the university cafe between Hob’s lectures, dinner at a new restaurant, pots of stew that Hob had let simmer throughout the day, waiting for his friend to share a bowl with him. Each time Dream smiled and accepted his offers, diligently clearing his plates and complimenting Hob on his choices.

And Dream was getting thinner.

He didn’t notice the thinness at first. No, he noticed the layers first. Dream tended to bundle up, to keep himself covered regardless of the weather, and Hob understood. He himself sometimes caught himself pulling his coat around himself a little tighter when he remembered the details of Dream’s imprisonment. So Dream adding extra layers to his ensemble- sweaters and scarves and hoods on his coats- Hob assumed it was just a result of Dream still working through his trauma.

But as time passed, he noticed the way his friend’s already impossibly sharp cheekbones became impossibly sharper. The way the bones in his hands stood out in stark relief each time he reached for his fork. 

Hob didn’t understand it. 

Sitting in his flat now, not expecting company since he saw Dream in all his fragile, delicate beauty the night before, he wracks his brain to try to piece together what might be going on with his friend. He is deep in thought, hands steepled as he leans back on his couch, so he nearly jumps out of his skin at the sound of loud, frantic tapping on his window.

Glancing at the window, he blinks in surprise at the sight of a large crow or raven that he swears is glaring at him. For a long moment, he simply stares, contemplating whether this warrants a call to animal control or if he should just wait for the bird to leave. He is debating trying to shoo it away himself when it taps on the glass again, somehow even angrier.

“Hey!” An unmistakable American voice projects from the Raven’s beak, “Open up, asshat, I wanna talk to you!”

In the grand scheme of things, this is not the strangest thing to happen to Hob, and yet he still nearly falls off the couch as he flails in surprise.

“Excuse me?” He stands and cautiously approaches the window, “Who, or what, exactly are you?” He demands. Hob may not be the brightest bulb in the shed, but he knows better than to let strange, angry, talking ravens into his home without taking precautions.

The raven huffs, “The name’s Matthew, Hob Gadling ,” he spits his name out pointedly, “And I’m here on behalf of Lord Morpheus, so let me in so I can shake you down properly!” He flutters a bit, letting his talons scratch at the window threateningly.

Perhaps Hob should be even more wary, given that the Raven both knows who he is and is clearly already upset with him for some reason, but the mention of one of Dream’s titles has him throwing the window open.

“Wait, Dream sent you?”

The raven- Matthew, Hob reminds himself, shaking his head in bafflement- glides through the open window to land on Hob’s coffee table, turning back to glare at him again.

“He didn’t send me, I’m here on his behalf ,” he clarifies haughtily. 

Tilting his head, Hob riffles through his memories, trying to recall every name Dream has mentioned in his stories of the goings on of his realm between their meeting. Now that he thinks about it, he’s pretty sure he remembers Dream mentioning a Matthew a few times, usually with fond exasperation.

“I think Dream’s mentioned you to me… you’re one of his subjects in the Dreaming, right?”

“I’m not just a subject ,” Matthew replies with great offense, “I’m his raven .” He puffs his chest out proudly, in a way that Hob thinks more than proves that he is someone who spends a lot of time with the Dream King.

“Right, he definitely failed to mention that detail,” Hob teases good-naturedly. There doesn’t seem to be any urgency here, so he allows himself to grin widely, “It’s nice to meet you! I haven’t gotten to meet any of Dream’s other friends.”

“Yeah, I noticed, and I find that highly suspicious,” Matthew declares, “What exactly do you have to hide, huh?”

“Uh, it’s not really hiding, I just… don’t know how to contact you?”

“A likely story.”

“I mean if you tell me how to call you I’d love to hang out more-”

“What’s your deal, huh?” Matthew interrupts, “What exactly are your intentions with Lord Morpheus?”

Hob is suddenly struck by the uncomfortable feeling that he is being given the shovel talk. By a bird. About a man he is, unfortunately, not even dating.

“No intentions, really,” he tugs his ear nervously, “I just. Enjoy spending time with him, is all.”

Matthew’s feathers ruffle in agitation, “Humans are conniving pieces of shit who can’t be trusted within a ten mile radius of any sort of power,” he declares, with the authority of someone familiar with being a ‘conniving piece of shit’ himself, “so excuse me if I’m suspicious that Average Joe over here is just ‘hanging out’ with one of the forces of the universe.”

“I don’t think I’m that average-”

“And another thing! Stop guilt tripping him into eating, you ass!”

Hob’s jaw drops at the accusation, “I- wha- he’s skin and bones!”

“Yeah, and you making him sick all the time isn’t exactly helping the situation, pal!”

“Wait, what?”

“Jeez, you’re slow on the uptake,” Matthew huffs in annoyance, “He’s not human, dude. So human food doesn’t work with him. It’s like… you know that scene in Twilight- the books, not the movies- where Edward eats a slice of pizza? And then in an interview Meyer said-”

“Okay, stop, stop stop stop,” Hob cuts off Matthew’s rambling, pinching the bridge of his nose, “But he takes a human form when he’s here though, right?”

“He looks like a human,” Matthew clarifies pointedly, “That doesn’t mean he functions the same as one. Just because you can fit bologna in a CD player doesn’t mean it’s going to work out for ya.”

A slow dawning sense of horror fills Hob, and it must show on his face because Matthew tilts his head to the side curiously, his tone gentling for the first time since his arrival, “You really didn’t know, huh.”

Hob shakes his head miserably, moving to sit heavily onto the couch, “No. Dream has tried to explain the whole ‘Endless’ thing to me, but it’s so complicated. And he never mentioned that he can’t eat, and he just looks so thin and I just wanted to help-”

“Okay, alright, it’s okay!” Matthew flaps his wings a few times desperately, “Please don’t cry. If you cry, I’m gonna cry, and I’m not ready to find out if dream-ravens can cry or not.”

“I can’t believe this whole time I’ve been making it worse.” He thinks again of 1589, of Dream barely glancing at the spread Hob had offered him. He’s always known Dream wasn’t human. He feels like an idiot.

“I feel like an idiot,” he admits out loud.

“I mean, you are,” Matthew replies, ignoring the halfhearted glare Hob gives him, “but you’re not a malicious idiot, which was really what I was more concerned about. In my head you were like, trying to weaken him before making your move or something.”

The very idea makes Hob sick, and he shakes his head vehemently, “Never. He’s my friend . I get that humans hurt him recently, but I don’t care about his power, I just care about him .” 

“Hm. You definitely seem sincere. I suppose maybe I should have just tailed you for a bit before coming in guns blazing. But my job is to protect the boss and he’s been looking a little rough recently, so. Y’know.”

Sniffling, Hob glances up at the raven, watching as he shifts on his feet anxiously. Hob blinks in realization as he speaks, “You really care about him, huh?”

“I mean, yeah, obviously,” Matthew shrugs as much as he is able, his tone becoming more casual, “Honestly it’s kind of hard not to. I mean have you seen the guy? Like, he’s supposed to be this all-powerful force of the universe, but he feels more like a kitten you find hiding from the rain under your car, y’know?”

Hob barks out a laugh, “I don’t think he’d appreciate that comparison, but you’re absolutely not wrong.”

“It’s not like he didn’t care about me first!” Matthew states, almost defensively. He flutters over, settling on the couch cushion next to Hob and he gets the impression that they should be sharing a couple beers right now, gossiping about their mutual friend, “He tries soooo hard to be all cold and aloof, but he knew me for five seconds and tried to keep me from doing my literal job ‘cause he was worried I’d get hurt.”

“Yeah, that sounds like him,” Hob smirks, shaking his head fondly.

“I can’t believe I had to die to finally get a good boss,” Matthew huffs, “Honestly that’s the craziest part of my afterlife. Turned into a raven? I can shrug that off. I enjoy my job and love my boss? THAT’S the part I have trouble believing.” 

Snapping his head over, Hob blinks for a long moment. Matthew’s feathers fluff up at his staring, “What? What did I do?”

Slowly, a grin spreads across Hob’s face, leaning forward conspiratorially.

“Want to help me with something?”

~~~

When Dream arrives for a visit two days later, Hob doesn’t even bother saying hello.

“Can I hug you?”

Dream blinks in surprise, tilting his head curiously as Hob stands patiently in front of him. When he finally nods, looking confused but not uncomfortable, Hob wastes no time wrapping his arms around his friend and pressing him close. He can feel the shape of his manifested skeleton through the layers of his coat.

“Dream,” he sighs sadly, one hand guiding Dream’s head against his shoulder, “I’m so sorry.”

“Whatever for?” Dream moves as if to pull away, but does not struggle when Hob tightens his grip, “You have done nothing to warrant an apology.”

“I’m sorry for pressuring you to eat.” 

Now, Dream jerks back, and Hob lets him go, though he keeps his hands on Dream’s shoulders. He looks surprised now, and somewhat guilty, “What do you-”

“Matthew told me,” Hob explains, “Oh, yeah, I met Matthew by the way. Good guy. Or, raven, or whatever,” Dream scowls, and he quickly continues, “He was worried about you.”

“He need not have interfered,” Dream looks away, body stiff under Hob’s hands, “There was no need for his concern.”

Hob sighs, “Dream. You could have told me you can’t eat food in the Waking.”

There is a pause as Dream considers his words, gaze still steadfastly avoiding Hob’s. “You… enjoy food,” he states, “and cooking. And you. Said it was a ritual among friends.”

“I know,” Hob winces, “I understand how it might have sounded when I said that, but… Dream, we won’t stop being friends just because there are certain things we can’t do together.” Dream doesn’t answer, his body as stiff and cold as a statue.

“Dream,” he ducks his head to try to catch Dream’s eye, “I won’t love you less if you tell me no.”

And that has Dream’s head snapping up, eyes wide with surprise in a way that makes Hob’s heart crack. 

“I mean it,” he insists, “I won’t be mad, or- or offended or anything if there’s certain things you can’t do. I’m sure there’s plenty I can’t do because of my humanity that you wouldn’t hold against me, yeah?”

Dream frowns, confusion on his face, “I would not ask you to take part in anything that went against your nature.”

Hob tilts his head back and sighs, his mouth curling in a fond smile, “You’re so close. You’re right there.”

There is a long pause as Dream seems to turn his words over in his head. “You. Also would not ask me to take part in something that went against my nature? Even if it is something you enjoy?”

“Exactly,” Hob grins, “I don’t enjoy it if it hurts you.”

“Despite how I have treated you in the past?”

Hob’s grin falls so fast it hits like whiplash, “Of course not!” He feels his chest tighten in horror, “Is that what you thought? That I would be okay with hurting you because we got in a fight once?”

Glancing away, Dream’s brow furrows in consideration, “It is not… I did not believe you were doing it on purpose,” he admits, which does lift a little of the weight from Hob’s heart, “I merely…” he looks up at Hob through his eyelashes, “I did not want you to think that I do not take our friendship seriously. I wanted. To prove myself. To prove that I am capable of being worthy of your companionship. I have declined your offer of friendship once already. To deny a ritual of friendship offered to me now would be unforgivable.”

“Only because there would be nothing to forgive,” Hob replies softly. Before Dream can say anything else, Hob pulls him back into his arms. 

“I. Did not mean to upset you,” Dream says tensely.

“You didn’t.” Hob gives him one last firm squeeze before reluctantly releasing him, “Now, my friend,” he says it again in hopes of reassuring Dream, who still looks anxious and lost, “Matthew didn’t say anything about you having ill-effects from our movie nights, yeah?”

Dream hums, and the slightest bit of tension leaves his shoulders, “Indeed. I have been. Enjoying experiencing this new media with you,” his lips twitch towards a smile, “And you promised me an adaptation of Romeo and Juliet tonight.”

Hob groans dramatically, placing a hand on Dream’s back to guide him towards the couch, “The only reason I’m allowing it is because the setting is different enough for me to almost forget it was inspired by that twat Shaxberd.”

“Technically it was inspired by me.”

“Well then sit down and enjoy the fruits of your labor,” Hob laughs, getting West Side Story set up for them to enjoy. The curtains are drawn to cover the glass panes of the windows, there are blankets and pillows strewn across the couch, and there are no snacks or food on the coffee table in front of them. When he looks at him, Hob thinks Dream looks a little… softer. A little more comfortable.

A little more loved.

~~~~~~~

“What’s on the docket today, boss?” 

Matthew lands carefully on the Dream King’s shoulder. He had spent what felt like several hours accompanying Mervyn throughout the castle grounds, pestering him with questions and prodding him for stories as he made minor adjustments to the landscape, and now he felt energetic and ready for a task. Sometimes Matthew felt like he was a better raven than a person. If nothing else he was happier as one. 

Dream hums as he walks down a quiet path outside the castle, “I must check in on the dreams of light to see how my newest creations among them are settling. And ensure they do not require more added to their numbers.”

The ‘dreams of light’ were how Dream had explained a particular sect of dreams to Matthew. They were created for dreamers who felt as though they were in the deepest darkness, those who saw no hope for themselves. They were dreams meant to inspire and revitalize. 

“So they’re like, the light at the end of the tunnel, yeah?” Matthew had responded when Dream had explained.

“Yes,” he had replied with a small smile, “That is not an inaccurate comparison.” Matthew had beamed with pride at understanding a little more of this new realm he called home. 

Meeting the dreams of light had been enlightening- pun absolutely intended- in a lot of ways. Mostly, Matthew learned that Lord Morpheus was deeply uncomfortable with them.

He didn’t think it was a matter of him not liking them or anything. But there was something in the way he had walked and held himself when in their presence. It reminded Matthew of how he had felt the first time he had held one of his friends' new baby; utterly adoring, and absolutely certain he was about to break it.

“I can deal with ‘em, boss.”

Dream turns to glance at the raven shuffling on his shoulder, brow furrowed, “I have already stated that I would do so.”

“Yeah, but I know you don’t want to,” Matthew shrugs his wings nonchalantly, “Unless you have some other important raven errand for me, just let me handle them. I don’t mind.”

With a deepening frown- born of confusion rather than displeasure, Matthew notes- Dream raises his arm, and Matthew instinctually hops from his shoulder to his forearm, allowing them to look each other in the eye. “Wants have no authority within my duty. If a task must be done then I shall do it.”

“Uh huh, yeah, I get that,” Matthew nodded, “but does this particular task have to be done by you ?”

“...I. Suppose not.”

“Great! Then delegate! I mean, I’m offering. Those guys don’t bother me the way they do you, so it’s not an issue, really.”

“I have not expressed that they bother me.”

Matthew sighs, shifting from foot to foot a little nervously, “Listen, don’t file an HR complaint for me saying this, but I love you, and so you are not as subtle as you think you are when it comes to being uncomfortable. To me at least.”

There is a long moment of silence as they stare at each other, Dream blinking in surprise, and Matthew tilting his head back and forth out of some strange raven instinct to view his boss from different angles. 

“...We do not have an HR department in the Dreaming.”

“I can’t tell if that’s you telling me you are upset or aren’t upset.”

To his shock and awe, Dream smiles. A small huff escapes his lips, the closest to a laugh Matthew has ever heard in his time as his raven. “I am not upset,” he states regally. “Since you are so insistent, I will allow you to run this errand on my behalf.” He makes it sound like he is the one doing Matthew a favor, which doesn’t actually surprise Matthew all that much. Honestly, he finds it kind of endearing. 

“Will do, Lord Morpheus!” 

He is still smiling as Matthew flies away. It’s not much.

But it’s a start.

~~~~

Matthew is in the middle of debating whether it would be in poor taste to ask to see Jessamy’s book when Lucienne steps into the library, sighing heavily.

“What’s up, boss lady?” Matthew flies over, landing to perch on the back of the chair next to the one Lucienne had fallen into heavily, “Everything alright?” 

“Everything is fine, Matthew,” Lucienne smiles, and he can see she looks more “fondly exasperated” than “distraught”. “I simply just came from seeing Lord Morpheus. He is still on the shores of creation.”

It has been almost two weeks since Matthew had checked in on the dreams of light, and had made some rounds among some other groups of dreams and nightmares as well. His report for the Dream King had been similar for all of them: they were doing fine, there was no true trouble, but could still benefit from higher numbers due to the massive increase in dreamers over the past hundred years.

To the surprise of absolutely no one, Dream had taken that as a great personal failure and had immediately set to work creating rapidly and desperately. Last Matthew had checked on him, his fingers had been bleeding. He hadn’t even known that was a thing that could happen to him.

“Any luck?” Matthew asks.

Lucienne hums, and it’s so similar to how Dream does. It amuses Matthew how alike the two were, and he wonders who influenced the other more. “He is taking a brief break,” she very nearly rolls her eyes, “only to ensure that the quality of his work does not suffer from the quantity.”

“Yeah, that sounds about right.”

Sighing, Lucienne shakes her head fondly, “I love Lord Morpheus but he can be quite stubborn sometimes.”

Her words have Matthew perking up. To be honest he’s a little surprised he hadn’t thought of this sooner. “Actually, funny that you say that. Want to join a group project to help the boss out?”

~~~~

Lucienne is still pondering Matthew’s words (and there had been a lot of them) when she stumbles upon her lord in the Library. He is seated quietly at a small table tucked in the back, hands folded in front of him. There are no books on the table, and he seems lost in thought. Part of her wonders if she should leave him alone, but…

“Apparently he doesn’t think anyone like, actually loves him. Which honestly kind of explains why he always looks like he’s on the verge of tears. Shit, I’ve felt on the verge of tears since that Hob guy told me about it. Like, I just assumed he knew, y’know? How can he not know?”

“Good evening, Lord Morpheus,” Lucienne greeted with a smile, pulling him from his thoughts as he glanced up at her. Despite whatever he had been mulling over, he still smiles as he looks at her.

“Lucienne,” he dips his head in greeting, “I hope I am not intruding.” 

It is his realm. It is him . And yet he still considers this space hers. 

“Not in the slightest,” she assures him, “Was there anything I could assist you with? Or were you merely visiting?”

“Visiting,” he confirmed with a nod, “I just returned from the Waking,” he explained, “and I felt the need to. Collect myself, I suppose.”

Humming in consideration, a thought occurs to her, “I cannot help but notice you have been spending quite some time with a particular human in the Waking, my lord,” she teases, “Will we be welcoming a new consort soon?”

Lucienne’s voice is light and fond, a teasing smile on her face, and yet Morpheus’ face still drops. It reminds her of a flower wilting, and his eyes are just a little glassy before he turns his gaze to the floor.

“I apologize,” his words are tense, some mixture of frustration and sorrow.

“Whatever for?” 

His eyes dart to glance at her skeptically, “I am aware, as I am sure you are as well, how troublesome my. Amorous pursuits are,” He straightens his back, steeling himself, “I shall restrain myself. You have my word.”

For a moment, Lucienne simply looks at him. He has changed so much, and yet is still so very much the same. In the past, he might not have apologized as he did now. But she recognizes the guilt and shame all the same.

Finally, she steps forward, sitting in the seat across from him, “You have nothing to apologize for.”

He snorted, shaking his head in disbelief, “Surely you resent the burden that comes with my being in love. You have every right to be cross with me for succumbing to such feelings once again.”

“And yet I am not.” 

Morpheus lifts his head, looking at her more directly, brow furrowed in confusion, and so she continues, “I have never been upset with you. You love deeply, and that is not a bad thing. I have only ever been saddened to see your heart broken.”

“My heartbreak has always been well deserved,” he insists. “ My pain is just. The injustice is the burden I throw on those around me.” He looks down again, fists clenching, “I bring storms with my sorrow, I lose focus on my duty, I become overwhelmed with both the love and the loss.”

Lucienne hummed, “Those things may be true. But they do not make me love you less.”

His head snaps up so fast she thinks she hears a crack. He is wide-eyed in his disbelief, and it makes her want to cry. Morpheus has been prideful, and stern, and reticent with his words. But it was impossible not to know when Morpheus loved you, whether he said it or not. Even when he lashed out and struggled to grant her more responsibility, Lucienne never doubted Dream’s love for her. It pains her to think that he has not felt the same surety with her love for him.

“You are my lord, and you are my friend,” she states, voice even as she recites simple facts, “and I love you. Not because you do not have flaws, but because there is so much about you to love, and your flaws simply cannot deter me.”

Dream continued to stare, blinking slowly, like trying to solve a puzzle in his head. Eventually, he swallowed thickly, turning his gaze down to his own hands as he admitted softly, “You know me so well. Better than most. I was certain that this knowing could only end in your disdain.”

“Perhaps I know you better than you do,” Lucienne responded, a hint of mischief in her voice that Dream could not help but quirk a smile at. 

Tilting his head, he recalled fondly, “Do you remember, so long ago, when the stories of the world were scattered through the Dreaming? Every time a page drifted past us, even if we were giving a tour to an important guest, you would fly after it.”

Lucienne laughed at the memory. She remembers how her feathers fluffed with agitation each time, offended at the chaos of it. Every story, written and unwritten, left to float freely through the dreaming, unbound pages swirling in the wind and catching on branches and pillars. Lucienne could never resist the urge to collect them. “My beak would be so full of pages I could barely see where I was flying.”

“How far you have come,” Dream smiled proudly, glancing at the towering shelves of stories around them, “From your little hoard of collected stories in the corner of the palace. To this.”

“Because you allowed it,” Lucienne pointed out. She had been nervous, when Lord Morpheus first discovered the piles of pages she had brought inside and pushed into the neatest stacks a raven was capable of. It only occurred to her decades later that he must have known from the beginning what she was doing. It was only when she began struggling with the size of her hoard, when she was brought near tears at knocking over one of her precious stacks with a stray wing, that the Dream King ‘found’ it. 

And he gave her shelves, and bindings, and hands. 

He shook his head, “I believe you would have made it happen regardless. A beakful of pages at a time. I merely made it easier.”

“And do you think that makes it count less?” Dream looked at her, head tilted in confusion, and she could not help but shake her head fondly, “Oh, Lord Morpheus, you can try to downplay your love all you like, but those of us who love you back will always see it regardless.”

There is another pause, his brow furrowed as he seems to consider this. Consider the idea that there are those who see him. They see him because they love him, and the seeing only makes them love him more. She wonders how he will take it. She hopes he doesn’t run away.

He doesn’t. Instead, he dips his head and smiles, “I. Am glad. It would pain me. If you did not know my care for you.”

“I know, Lord Morpheus,” Lucienne reached out, laying a hand over his, “I know.”

Squeezing his fingers just once, she leans back, smirking deviously, “Now,” she adjusts her glasses, keeping her tone light and professional, “tell me more about this human who has caught your attention. I must make sure he is good enough for you, of course.”

When Morpheus laughs, he sounds young, and happy, and loved.

~~~

“My friend,” Hob begins cautiously, “is everything alright?”

Dream has always been quiet, but tonight he is distracted . He seems far away and lost in thought, a furrow in his brow that Hob wants to smooth over with his fingers. There is music playing softly in the background, one of their quiet evenings of sharing stories and Hob gently showing Dream little bits of what humanity had created in his absence. He does not seem upset, exactly, but Hob still worries.

“I. Am fine,” Dream responds stiffly, and Hob can’t help but snort.

“For someone who claims the title ‘Prince of Stories’ you are a terrible liar.”

Dream glares at him, but there is no heat behind it. In fact, Hob is almost certain he sees his mouth twitch as though holding back a smile. Softening, he allows himself to scoot a little closer on the couch, until their legs are just barely brushing. “I’m serious, though,” he repeats, “Are you okay?”

Sighing, Dream glances down at his hands in his lap, “I am fine,” he insists, “I simply…” he takes a long moment to consider his words. When he speaks again, it is in a rush, as though he must push the words out before he loses them, “Matthew and Lucienne claim that they love me.”

Hob blinks, “Oh.” He is both pleased to know that Dream is being told, and confused by Dream’s reaction. “That’s good, isn’t it?”

Looking up at him, Dream looks… ashamed, “They are my subjects,” he explains, “I have power over them. In such a situation, is it not immoral to ask them to love me?”

“ Did you ask?” Hob presses, already knowing the answer, “Or did they choose to love you on their own?”

Dream does not answer, and he does not look comforted either. “And Death,” he ignores Hob’s question, “she has said… but is it not obligation to love your family?”

“It can feel like it sometimes, sure,” Hob answers carefully, “but in reality, no. Family can be complicated, but at the end of the day, love is never an obligation. It is in fact very possible to not love your family. If she loves you it’s because she loves you.”

At first, he doesn’t understand it. Why Dream seems to grow more anxious and fearful with each word Hob speaks in comfort. Hob is trying to reassure him that he is loved and yet his eyes are wide, jaw tense and hands clenched into tight fists. He looks cornered.

He looks, Hob realizes, like Hob himself had as a starving man in the 1600s. Like a man who had been given the barest scraps to keep him alive and was now bracing to have it stolen away.

“And you?” Dream whispers, “You have claimed to love me…” he searches Hob’s face desperately, his voice choked when he finally brings himself to ask, “... Why ?”

“Because it’s true.” Hob reaches out recklessly, because it’s too important not to. He laces their fingers together and leans forward to keep their eyes locked even when Dream tries to look away, “Because I do love you. You, Dream of the Endless. I love your dedication to your work, I love the way you speak, I love explaining humanisms to you. I love how hard you try, how you don’t give up even when you’re convinced you've failed. I love how much you care.” 

He could go on forever. Reckless, daring, desperate, Hob lifts his other hand to cradle Dream’s cheek, feeling the way he sucks in a breath at the contact, “I love the look in your eyes when you experience kindness,” he strokes a thumb gently against the skin under Dream’s eye, “and I love you so much that I also hate that look in your eye… as if you’ve never experienced kindness. As if you’re not used to it. As if you don’t know what to do with it. I love you so much, and I want you to be loved more . I want everyone to love you.”

Dream does not need to breathe, and yet his chest is nearly heaving with shaking breaths, each of Hob’s words hitting him like a blow. He has to swallow a few times before he can manage to speak again. “I do not want everyone to love me,” he confesses, “I just…” Hob has never heard him sound so uncertain. So small. Dream has to look away before he is able to continue, “I want the love I have to be true . I know I am too much,” his voice drips with shame, “I know I love too hard. But it is because I want so badly to be loved in return the way I love. I do not require quantity. I just… I want… I want the people I love to love me back.”

Timidly, he looks up at Hob once more, and his voice cracks as he asks, “Is that selfish?”

“No,” Hob answered immediately, “That is very, very human.”

“I am not-”

“You are humanity’s dreams,” Hob interrupts, “And I promise you, humanity dreams of being loved in return.” Leaning forward, he pulls Dream gently closer, until their noses are nearly touching and they are sharing breath, “And you are, you know,” he whispers between them like a secret, “You are loved in return.”

“You cannot know how others feel for me,” Dream argues weakly.

“Perhaps,” Hob cannot help but smirk, “I mean, I do, but I know you won’t accept that. So accept this: I know how I feel for you. And I love you. I’ll say it however many times you need. I love you-”

“Stop.” 

Dream’s eyes are clenched shut, and Hob can see the moisture caught on his eyelashes. But he’s not pulling away, and when Hob pulls back, he drifts after him. “I’ll stop talking if you want me to,” Hob offers, “I’ll stop touching you, if it’s too much,” He starts to pull his hands away and the tears finally spill down Dream’s cheeks, “But I won’t stop loving you.”

The words are barely out his mouth when Dream crashes into him. He nearly falls backwards, only just managing to keep them both from toppling over, his hands bracing against Dream to steady them. There is salt on Dream’s lips, and they tremble against Hob’s, and he can taste the words on them as clearly as if Dream had spoken them out loud.

Stay, his kiss begs, Stay, stay, stay.

“I love you, too,” Dream whispers against his lips, his hands curled in Hob’s shirt as though expecting him to pull away.

But Hob only pushes closer, wrapping his arms around Dream’s fragile figure. “I know,” he replies, pressing kisses to his mouth, his cheeks, his nose, his forehead, “I know. I know you love me. And I love you back. I promise.”

Holding Dream tight in his arms, Hob knows that he will probably have to convince Dream again tomorrow. He will probably have to convince him again and again and again, and he doesn’t care. He loves him enough to remind him.

[swanimagines]

SLEEP THIEF | MORPHEUS

Summary: You, being plagued by a sleep thief called insomnia, managed to free Dream a few months back. Now he wants to pay you back by finding a cure for your insomnia - and maybe because he has developed feelings for you.

Once, in the realm of dreams, where reality bends and imagination takes shape, Dream of the Endless found himself trying to help a mortal, who suffered from a condition that prevented her to visit his kingdom.

Insomnia. That relentless thief of sleep that plagued your every night. Despite always being tired, having eyebags and looking old beyond your years, you were always kind to Dream. Somehow you had sensed he was a vital part in the world, and in little, tiny gestures over two years, you helped him with every way you could. “Accidentally” swiping your feet over the summoning ring. Guards hadn’t slept well, so they fell to sleep after drinking your special tea. Little things - and eventually, your constant, diligent effort was worth it and Dream got himself out. You didn’t know what had been the thing that made the trick, but his glass prison was shattered and the guards didn’t remember much - it was concluded the summoning ring had weakened over time and Dream could finally push through it.

You got fired from the mansion with the rest of the workers after Mr. Burgess was cursed with eternal nightmares and your services weren’t needed anymore - and within the first week of you tossing and turning in the bedroom of your new apartment, you got a visitor - startled by a man with glowing eyes standing in the corner of the room, almost letting out a scream before you recognised him and turned on your bedside lamp with a smile.

“Dream? Is it… really you? I thought you were gone, that I would never see you again,” you mumbled, beaming as you sat up properly. “I… I knew you got out, but I thought you’d be busy to get the world rolling again.”

Dream smiled softly, taking a step towards you. Then he spoke, with a deep voice - to be honest, you hadn’t expected him to sound like that. “Yes, it is I. I have returned to express my gratitude for the compassion and help you offered me when I needed it the most. The world is on its track again, and you are to thank for that.”

You smiled back bashfully, looking at your hands fiddling with your blanket. “It was a human thing to do. I knew your captivity was a reason why the world was messed up. I’m happy you popped by, it’s good to see you’re alright.”

Dream was quiet for a moment, studying you. Then he spoke again. “I wish to grant you the gift of sleep. You have suffered from the lack of it for so long, and a mortal like you does not deserve such a fate. It is not caused by my absence, but I want to help you with it.”

You frowned, looking up to him. “I’ve always had it. Sleeping pills help somewhat, but even they might not let me sleep throughout the whole night. Are you sure that- I mean, I know you can do it, you’re the king of dreams, after all. But are you sure your help will last? I read it may originate from the way brains are built, and I don’t know if you’re able to change it. You can’t have time to guard my sleep every night, can you?”

Dream was quiet for a moment. “I will do everything I can in my power to ensure you will be able to sleep your nights without struggle. For tonight, my sand will have to do.”

And with that, he took out his pouch and you, knowing what he was about to do, settled under your covers. You looked at Dream as he placed the sand on the palm of his hand and the last thing you saw was him blowing the powder-like sand on your face, and you fell asleep on that very moment.

—

“Are you sure about this, Dream?” Matthew asked as he flew by his master, settling onto one of the many chairs in the library. “Humans and Endless rarely mix well. You know it could be dangerous. The potential consquences could be destructive.”

Dream didn’t even look up to his companion as he read one of the many books he owned. “She showed me kindness during my captivity. It is time for me to repay that debt.”

Matthew was quiet and used the time to ponder his next words to groom himself. Then he tilted his head, studying his friend. “Are you planning to act on your feelings?”

Dream paused for a moment, tapping his fingers on the cover of the book. Then he finally looked up to his friend. “I understand your concerns, Matthew. But should we deny ourselves happiness only because the risk of heartbreak it may involve?”

Matthew sighed. “I suppose not.”

Lucienne emerged from behind the corner. “Your devotion for her is undeniable. And your wish to help her through her condition is noble - but remember the consequences what could happen if she starts to dwell in dreams and forget to live. You may get blindsided about what will lie ahead if you let your feelings overwhelm your senses.”

“I am aware, Lucienne,” Dream said, lowering his eyes back down and tracing his finger across the page of the book. “I do not know if she feels the same way. It may be she does not return my feelings for her.”

Matthew and Lucienne exchanged a glance, before the librarian handed a book to Dream. “I believe this book will help with her condition. Just… be careful, my lord.”

Dream’s eyes flickered up again, and he nodded slightly. “Thank you, Lucienne.”

And so, Matthew and Lucienne left Dream alone - he would find a cure for you, let you visit his Kingdom. And even if it would never be anything more than friendship, Dream would enjoy having you around in his Kingdom every night, walking with you through the field and listen to you telling about your day. 

It had been a while since he had had a mortal human friend - Hob being immortal - but he had a feeling that you could be one of his greatest friends who have ever lived.

---

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

[writethrough]

How to Mistakenly Summon An Ancient Being & Keep Him

(Morpheus x Female Reader)

Synopsis: You're an insomniac and have exhausted all other avenues to help you sleep except one. What happens when that one brings you the King of Dreams?

Warnings: Language (only one f*** was given), mutual pining, inability to sleep

Word Count: 3299

A/N: I'm super pumped to share this one! Though, I do think I could've upped the pining a bit more. Let me know what you think!

Nothing you tried worked. No amount of meditation, sleepy time tea, or melatonin kept you asleep. Your doctor had prescribed you sleeping pills, which worked for a few weeks, but the drowsiness and headaches made you stop taking them.

You had been scrolling through your social media when an ad for some spirituality website popped up. All the words were a blur except “help” and “sleep.” You clicked on it before you could think about viruses. That led you through site after site. Some hawked overpriced sleeping potions that sent up all of your red flags, and others touted crystals for pleasant dreams and to ward off nightmares, but it was a ritual that caught your attention.

It was simple enough. A few herbs you already had in your kitchen, a candle, and some sigils that took you much longer to draw than they should have. All you had to do was say the words at midnight and hope your prayer would be answered. The worst that could happen was already happening to you. It's not like you could get less sleep.

When the clock ticked to 12 AM, you lit the candle and recited the spell three times.

You waited. You weren’t sure what you were waiting for—heavy eyelids, relaxation, the inability to keep your head up. However, you never expected to hear a deep voice behind you.

“You humans never change," he growled. It was more than a glare he pinned you with; it was that of a beast, ready to devour.

—

It happened so quickly.

He and Lucienne were in the library, combing through books when he felt a tugging from the top of his spine. It brought him back to that day over a century ago. He couldn’t let that happen again.

“Lucienne!” he called as sand swirled around him.

“My lord?” Lucienne could only watch in horror.

Before either could do anything more, he had been transported into a bedroom. A woman sat facing away from him, and all of his anger honed in on her.

He would commit atrocities sooner than sit in another cage. And you were about to discover just how far he would go.

—

The man before you blended into the shadows cast by the moon. He seemed to encompass everything within the darkness, but you knew he couldn’t; he was just a man—one that appeared without explanation.

You steeled yourself. Slowly rising, never taking your eyes away.

“Who the hell are you, and how did you get in here?” you asked, impressed that your voice came out relatively steady.

The man’s jaw clenched, but he stayed silent. If anything, this angered you more than frightened you.

“You need to leave before I call the police,” you said. You would call the cops regardless, but he didn’t need to know.

This made his eyes narrow.

“You wish me to leave?” he asked as if he were trying to decipher the words.

“Yeah, people typically don’t like it when strange men just pop up in their bedroom,” you snapped. Why was he looking at you like you were the crazy one?

“You summoned me, human,” he said.

You straightened, taken off guard. “I summoned you? You're out of your mind. I did not summ—” Then it clicked. The ritual. Could that be what he was talking about? You pointed to the candle. “Is this what you mean?”

He nodded slowly. His posture seemed to relax a little.

You glanced between him and your tools.

“I don’t understand,” you said. “It was just supposed to help me fall asleep. Not bring me a…what exactly are you?”

He ignored your question for one of his own. “May I see the incantation?”

You grabbed your laptop from the floor and showed him the lines. After a moment of contemplation, he exhaled a deep, exhausted breath.

“Truly, did you not know this was to summon me?”

You shook your head. “I promise. I…I just wanted to sleep.”

How were you going to do that now? And what were you going to do about the man you supposedly summoned from who knows where?

“I can help with that,” he said. “This ritual may not be what you thought, but it will do as you wished.” He leveled you with his gaze. “My name is Morpheus. I am the King of Dreams.”

—

You were…different, he had decided. Neither good nor bad, just something other.

You said this was an accident and that you hadn’t expected the ritual to work. Morpheus saw the desperation in your eyes—the need for a solution to a problem out of your control. Perhaps it was that familiarity that made him want to help you.

And no matter how much he tried to convince himself otherwise, there was an instinct that told him he could trust you.

—

You had just summoned the fucking Sandman. You weren’t sure if you wanted to praise or curse the off-the-wall website you found the ritual on. No, you wanted to finally have a continuous eight hours of rest.

“Okay, so how does this work?” you asked, maybe a tad too excited.

“Lie on the bed and close your eyes. This will only take a moment,” he said.

In any other situation, you would react very differently, but now that Morpheus seemed to have relaxed, you felt you could trust him. At the least, you could trust him to do as he claimed. 

After taking your position, Morpheus stood over you, a small pouch in one hand as he poured it over into the other.

“Morpheus,” you said before he could continue.

He only glanced at you in response.

“I’m sorry,” you paused. “For making you come here against your will.” He was borderline hostile when he arrived, but when you explained everything, he calmed. There had to be a story there. “And thank you for this.”

His lips twitched in a blink-and-miss-it moment.

“Sweet dreams,” he said and sprinkled the sand into your eyes.

—

The next night, Morpheus waited for you in the Dreaming. After helping you fall asleep, he grew more curious about you. What caused your insomnia? How could a human be so honest? And what made him believe you in the first place?

Though time passed differently in the Dreaming, he knew when you should’ve been sleeping. When you didn’t come, he brushed it off as having missed you. Though that wasn’t possible.

The night after, you still had not shown. By the third night, he had a strange sense of concern. Were you alright? Have you not slept at all since you met? He was determined to find out.

It was nearly 7 PM when he knocked on your door. He thought it best not to repeat his initial arrival. His eyes narrowed when you answered, dark circles gracing your under eyes. 

“Morpheus? What are you doing here?”

He slipped past you. “You have not been sleeping.”

“Not true. I slept for a few hours,” you said, sitting on your couch and indicating the space beside you.

“Not well,” he said, following. “You haven’t visited my realm.”

You stayed quiet, pulling your cardigan tighter around you.

“Why did you not call for me?” You had the means to; if you had not been sleeping, there was no reason for you not to summon him.

“That’s not fair to you,” you said. “And I wasn’t about to bother you again, especially because it seemed to affect you.”

He was silent. You took his feelings into account even though it was to your detriment.

You were not as selfish as other humans. It made him want to help you all the more.

“Think nothing of it.” He pulled out his pouch. “You must rest. Now, lie back for me.”

You nodded, evidently not having the energy to argue.

—

You waited to feel the gentle taps to your eyelids the sand made. When they didn’t come, you opened your eyes only to find yourself on a cobblestone path in a village. Stands were set up with various foods, craftsmanship, and jewelry. Some merchants were human, but others were humanoid with animal features. A few had skin swirled like galaxies or solid green or even wings. It was all so vibrant, so alive.

“Welcome to the Dreaming.” Morpheus stood next to you, carefully watching your reaction.

His realm. So, he had put you to sleep.

You couldn’t wipe the smile off your face as you spotted baby dragons, of all things, playing with young children.

You laughed in disbelief. “I’d tell you to pinch me, but I know I’m dreaming.”

A hand was placed on your back as he led you forward.

“There’s much to see,” he said.

A few creatures bowed to him as you passed. And it reminded you that he was indeed a king.

“How long have you been the King of Dreams,” you asked, slipping your hands into your pockets.

“Since the beginning of time,” he said.

You stopped, as did he, and you looked him over. You shook your head slightly before moving again.

“I’m not sure if I can even fathom that,” you said, a wave of naivety washing over you.

“Do not dwell on it. It’s best not to.” He paused. “May I ask you something?”

“Of course.” You looked at him expectantly.

“How long have you had difficulty sleeping?”

You shrugged. “Feels longer than it actually is. It's like one day, my brain decided it would never turn off, not fully. I get some rest here and there, but the best sleep I’ve ever had was the night we met.”

He took a moment to think this over. What he said next shocked you.

“Then I shall put you to sleep every night."

Your eyes widened as your cheeks heated up. Did Morpheus not realize how that sounded? A being as old as time itself surely knew every way that could be taken.

“That’s-That’s really not necessary, Morpheus. I’m sure you have more important things to do than make sure I sleep.”

You thought he was going to ignore you. He seemed to do that whenever he believed it suited him. Instead, his eyes held a certain glint to them.

“You should not question the Lord of Nightmares. And in his own kingdom no less.”

Was he…teasing you? The flutter in your stomach made you believe it.

“I can’t ask you to do that,” you mumbled. “I don’t want you to waste your time on me.”

You were so focused on your shoes that you missed the passing look on his face.

“Then it is fortunate I offered,” he said softly.

You met his gaze, ready to argue, but he stopped you.

“And only I may decide what is wasteful of my own time. You, (Y/N), can never be.”

—

Since that night, Morpheus had given you peaceful slumbers. Weeks passed, and his visits grew longer. He arrived when you prepared dinner. Though he didn’t often eat, he was keen to assist you in preparing it. You caught him taking a dish out of the oven once without mits. He was holding the pan before you could stop him, but his features showed no sign of pain. In domestic times like these, you forgot that he wasn’t human.

He stood chopping an onion while you combined ingredients in a bowl discussing your favorite films.

“I can’t believe you haven’t seen it,” you said.

He tried to hide his smile as he slid the onions into the bowl.

“I do have a realm to oversee,” he said pointedly.

“Evidently.” You gestured to where he was, in your kitchen, clearly not in the Dreaming.

His eyes turned bright.

“Perhaps tonight you will finally meet one of my nightmares,” he said, voice dipping as if he was serious.

You tilted your head and pursed your lips in thought.

“No, I don’t think I will,” you said, setting the bowl aside.

“And why is that?”

“Because you’re too nice.” You had to lift your chin to meet his eyes.

He had always been kind to you. It wasn’t just him putting you to sleep. It was his thoughtfulness and how deeply he cared for his people.

Morpheus hadn’t told you everything that happened to him prior to your meeting, but you gathered enough to know it had nearly broken him. The fact that he let you in at all spoke volumes. You hoped he knew how much he meant to you.

You may only be human, but you’d protect him with your entire being.

He had captured your heart quickly, and you wished you weren’t obvious enough for him to see it.

—

Morpheus reread the page for the fourth time, and its contents still failed to penetrate. Last night he had been with you making dinner. Now, all he could think about was your smile, the way your eyes lit up, and how he wanted to hold you and keep you from every wretched thing you had encountered yesterday and since you’d met.

He closed the book and stood. You were working today, which meant you wouldn’t be home, which meant he couldn’t see you until dinner tonight.

It frustrated him. He would provide you with whatever you desired—you need only ask. It was old-fashioned, but he didn’t want to be away from you. The moment you told him he could leave, it was as if something pulled him toward you. You were special. You guided him through obstacles he thought he had overcome long ago.

You became his comfort, and he hoped he had become yours. And tonight, he would tell you as much, and hopefully, you would accept him.

—

You had just gotten home from possibly the longest day of your life. Every minor inconvenience had culminated in the pounding in your head. But it was finally over, and soon enough, you and Morpheus would be relaxing on the couch watching a show he should’ve seen by now.

Changing into something comfortable, you entered the kitchen to pull the dinner ingredients out when there was a tapping at your window.

Matthew waited, tilting his head in that raven way.

“Hey, Matthew,” you said, letting him in.

He flew to the back of your armchair after swooping to scoop a mouthful of gummy worms you kept in a bowl just for him. The perks of being a magical raven.

“Hey (Y/N),” he said around his food. He continued after swallowing. “The boss is running late, but he’ll be here soon.”

You nodded. Sometimes this happened. Though Morpheus’ definition of late usually meant twenty minutes or so.

“His work is much more important than cutting vegetables,” you said, taking a seat.

“You wouldn’t be saying that if you saw the look on his face,” he said. “He looked ready to cry or smite someone.”

You raised an eyebrow. “Those seem like two very opposite ends of the spectrum.”

“Not when he does it. I’m talking this full constipated gloss over his face,” Matthew said.

You let out a laugh. “Still, I can believe the smiting, but the crying? Never. Especially not over something as silly as helping me with dinner.”

“Are you kidding? He doesn’t say it, but that’s the highlight of his day! There’s always this pep in his step when he’s about to come here.” He paused. “Well, about as much pep as you can imagine him giving.”

You blushed. Was Morpheus really that excited about something so small?

Matthew had gone down a bit of a ramble, but the last thing he said snatched your attention.

“...I mean, he’s basically in love with you, so it’s no surprise.”

“Who’s in love with me?”

“Dream,” Matthew said as if you hadn’t been listening.

“No, he’s not.” You shook your head.

“Yeah, he is.”

“On what planet would an Endless love me of all people?” He was lying. He had to be. There was no way Morpheus returned your feelings.

“This one!” Matthew said, exasperated.

You weren’t sure if you could breathe or not. It felt like you were, but why couldn’t you inhale completely?

“Are you being serious?” you asked, trying to hide the hope in your voice.

“I wouldn’t lie to you about something like this,” he said softly.

You nodded. “Okay, so what do I do now?”

There was a familiar knock on your door. You both looked toward it.

“Do what’s gonna make you happy,” he said, then left out from where he came.

—

Okay, you could do this. It was just Morpheus. Standing outside your place, waiting for you to let him in after you found out he apparently loved you. Do you pretend not to know? Should you come out with it? You loved Matthew, but shit, you wished he didn’t talk so much.

First things first, you had to open the door.

“Morpheus.” You smiled, hopefully not too big.

“Hello (Y/N),” he said, pulling a bouquet of flowers from behind him. “For you.”

You gave him a soft smile. “What’s the occasion?”

He seemed to hesitate a moment. “I simply wanted to.”

“They’re beautiful. Thank you.” You turned to the kitchen to search for a vase, hiding your widening smile.

“I sent Matthew earlier. Is he not here?” Morpheus asked, having followed you.

“Just left.” Do what’s gonna make you happy. “He actually told me something he probably shouldn’t have.”

“And that is?” He waited patiently but sensed your reluctance. “Unless I should be kept in the dark as well.”

“No,” you breathed. “No, it was kind of about you.”

He regarded you carefully. “...Has whatever he told you made you uncomfortable in my presence?”

Your eyes widened. “No! Never.” You supposed the only way to say this was to just come out with it. “He told me that you…well, he told me that you love me.”

“Oh.”

He had clearly not expected that response. And you wondered if he had ever told Matthew about his feelings or if the bird was only guessing.

“It’s true,” he said. “That’s the occasion.”

“Occasion?”

“The flowers. I was going to tell you tonight,” he said.

A thought occurred to you, and the corner of your mouth turned up.

“Then tell me,” you said, taking a step closer.

Morpheus seemed to be taken aback but recovered just as quickly. His jaw clenched, and he met your eyes.

“I love you,” he whispered. “It grows with each passing day.”

You found one of his hands with yours. His touch kept you grounded. You needed that with how it felt like you’d float away any second.

“I love you, too.” You beamed, happier than you had ever been.

His eyes were soft, and they became the slightest bit hooded.

“May I kiss you?”

Your response was to lift your chin and capture his lips with yours.

It was like you were on fire. And yet your heart somehow calmed.

This was right—his hands on your waist, yours resting on his chest. Each press of his lips reinforced everything since you met. Trust, safety, comfort, and now love.

You had to be the one to pull away for breath.

His thumb grazed your cheek as he examined your features.

How was it possible for someone to be so captivating?

You wrapped your arms around his waist and buried your head in the crook of his neck.

“Not even in my wildest dreams did I think you would love me,” you said, ecstatic that you were wrong.

He hummed. “It’s fortunate that I create dreams then.”

You pulled away enough to look at him. “Very fortunate.”

He leaned down for another kiss, a slow, deep peck. It burned all the way to your toes.

“I love you,” you mumbled against his lips.

He pulled you closer, intent on showing you.

[kydrogendragon]

For the birthday prompts (take it anywhere you like):

Dreamling - "Show me? Please?"

(and Happy Birthday fellow Capricorn!)

Prompt four for our day! We got the hints of Monsterfucker!Hob here with this one, so be warned if that's not your jam. Nothing crazy. Just Hob admiring Dream's nightmare form.

I have fifteen million ideas for this (a good half of them angsty) but decided on this, so hope you enjoy!

And thank you, fellow Capricorn, for the prompt! <3

Relationship: Hob/Dream Words: 1405 Warnings: Monsterfucker!Hob Ao3 Link

“Show me?” Hob asks, a hand on Dream’s chest. “Please?”

He does not know what he asks for. He is immortal, yes, but still human. And with it, a human mind and human limitations, even here in the Dreaming. It is impossible for Hob to know, to see, all that Dream is, even if he wished. Hob has done well so far comprehending exactly what Dream is and has even done well with taking the ever-changing nature of the Dreaming in stride. But this? What Hob Gadling asks for is well within comprehension for a human. That does not mean Dream wishes for him to know it, though.

They have been lovers now for well over three years. It is longer than Dream had expected and while Hob has done well to ease the fear Dream has that the end is just on the horizon, this ask could well destroy them.

“I promise I’ll let you know if it’s too much, yeah?” Hob adds, looking up into Dream’s night sky eyes with that same love and warmth he has always looked upon him with. Even after learning the power Dream wields, the otherworldliness of him, Hob has never looked at him with fear, only awe. Dream fears this would change it.

“This is not something you need see, Hob. I would not subject you to it needlessly.” Dream protests. He cups his own hand around Hob’s pressing his warm palm harder against his chest.

“It’s still you, though, isn’t it? It’s the form you take when dealing with Nightmares. It’s a whole half of you. You’ve seen all of me you can possibly see and you’ve still stuck around. Will you not give me the chance to do the same for you?” And in there lies the problem. For all the crimes and fears Hob claims, the darker parts of his nature, the violence that still lingers in his heart and bones, he is still human. There is nothing he could do that would be beyond Dream’s imagination. There is nothing he could do that Dream would not still love him for. The same is not true of Dream.

There is much Dream could do that would drive him away. There is much that Dream could do that is so far beyond human imagination that it is impossible for there not to be apart of him that Hob would shun. And the form he requests to see, the Nightmare of Dream, it is but the surface.

“Trust me?” Hob asks, his voice soft. And how could Dream deny him when he asks? There is very little he would not do for Hob Gadling. And even if he knows this could easily end their relationship and turn Hob’s love for him into fear, he will still do it. Because Hob asked.

“Very well,” Dream says, studying Hob’s features. He commits the scrunch of his nose, the pull of his lips, and the shine in his eyes to memory. Just in case. He steps back, letting his and Hob’s hand fall from his chest as he takes a deliberate breath in.

His form shifts. It is instantaneous. The normal human like form he wears as Dream of the Endless is replaced by the shape of the King of Nightmares. His limbs are long, stretched, and thin. The skin that clings to him is paler with sickly purple and blue hues. His back is hunched, spines protruding from each vertebrae. Claws replace his nails and large but thin fangs replace his teeth. His eyes are dark and large. Too large. Unsettlingly large. This form is unnatural. It is disturbing and is the creation of the fears and nightmares of the collective unconscious. It is everything it should be. And in this moment, it is also Dream’s fear.

Hob stares at him, mouth agape. Dream awaits the scream that will rip from his throat. He awaits the panic, the fear, that will settle into his bones. The pleas to change back, the cries that Hob was wrong, that this was a mistake. That Dream is a mistake. Dream does not wish to see it. He closes his eyes.

It is silent when a hand is placed upon his elongated snout-like face. Dream’s eyes open to see Hob standing directly in front of him with that same awe in his eyes he had just moments ago. His eyes dart across his form, taking him in. And then the man smiles.

“Brilliant,” he whispers as his gaze returns to Dream’s. His hand trails up along the bridge of his nose, following the path up to the top of Dream’s head. “You really are a marvel, aren’t you, darling?”

Dream does not understand.

“You…” his voice is rough, crackly, inhuman and wrong. Yet Hob does not flinch nor move away. If anything, his eyes light up at the sound. Perhaps Dream has broken him already. No mortal should react like this. “You are not afraid?”

“Afraid?” Hob asks, incredulously. “Why would I be afraid? You’re still you, right? What’s there to be afraid of?”

That… Dream does not know what he expected, but it wasn’t that. He blinks, the squelching of the slick black sludge-like substance that slowly drips from the cavities where his eyes sit is loud in the silence that follows. Hob continues his exploration of Dream’s form. His hands wander across the rough, bruised looking skin. Dream shivers under his touch which causes Hob to spin his head around, concerned etched into his features.

“Is… is this okay? Should have asked before…” He trails off, lifting his hands from Dream’s form.

“It is fine,” he croaks, shifting his body lower so Hob may reach more of him. His lover smiles brightly as he turns back. Dream closes his eyes, focusing on the feather-light touch of warm, calloused fingers running along the side of his spine. Hob’s other hand strokes the spikes that run along his back. Dream can’t help but smirk as he hears Hob mutter the words “amazing” and “wonderful” as he explores.

It almost coaxes Dream into a trance, the gentle touches and soft words. Then Hob presses a kiss to his side and Dream shutters. No one has touched him like this, in this form. Such a form, the guise of the King of Nightmares was meant for battles and fear, for screams and cries. Not tenderness and love. Dream does not know how to feel about it.

“Can I ask a potentially stupid question?” Hob asks, his lips still against Dream’s skin.

“I would have you speak freely, lover.”

Hob chuckles, the warm puffs of air send chills up his spine. He is not used to suppressing such reactions in this body. He has such mastery over his usual form, but here, as the embodiment of Nightmares, such control in manner like this is foreign. And judging by the smirk on Hob’s lips he can feel against his skin, Hob enjoys it.

“Does… can this form enjoy carnal pleasures, as you’ve put it, as well?” Dream can’t help but laugh. The noise is closer to a screech, like a fury in the night, or tire squealing on the road, than a laugh, but as he turns to face Hob, his love looking at him with that cheeky expression all the same.

“It can... if you would like it to.” Dream says, his voice turning into a growl at the end.

“And if I would like it to?” Hob replies, his hand tracing down the side of his ribs, curving under his hunched over stomach and further still. This form does not currently have any genitalia configured to it, though he suspects Hob would be more than willing to give him some ideas.

Dream reaches over, curling a large, clawed hand around Hob’s waist. He pulls him close, his lover’s face pressed against the bony snout and grins. Rows of sharp, pointy teeth reflect in Hob’s wide eyes. “Then prepare yourself, lover. I believe I would like to feast upon your body this night.”

Hob’s whine sends shivers down his spine. Hob’s mind may not be sane, but as lust fills his eyes and flashes of daydreams graze over Dream, he would not want his human any other way.

[sunnycanvas]

Lost Cause

Baldwin iv x Fem!reader

Warning: agnst

"Please Baldwin" you cried so much that your body and mind begged for mercy. "Please don't do this, I can't live without you" "You are my everything". You were crying so much hoping that this was all a nightmare. Your heart hurt so much. The pain was unbearable. It was more painful than any other injuries you suffered

"My love, please understand". "The High court won't accept you as my queen. Hence they won't accept me as king unless I divorce you". You grabbed his arms trembling and said "There has to be a way" "You can't end our marriage just like that" "What about our vows and about our promise till death do us apart" "Don't you love me?".

Baldwin iv sighed and didn't dare to look at you because he knew if he saw you crying and he will crumble under your gaze. "They gave me choice between my duty to crown and my duty to husband to you"

"And you choose your crown" you screamed at him crying

Baldwin iv sighed. It was painful for him too. Even though he had leprosy which made him immune to physical pain. It didn't make him immune to psychological pain. However Baldwin iv wouldn't admit it. He can't leave his country especially when they are is no one suitable to replace him. He always dreamed of happily abdicating his crown once a suitable successor comes by and living a lovely peaceful life with you. Alas, fate had something else stored for him. His first brother in law William of Longsword died. Even though Baldwin iv wanted to abdicate in his favour his brother in law refused knowing he lacked support of barons. His second brother in law was even worse. He had to stay in crown for the sake of unity of Kingdom. He didn't think that high court would have problem with you. He suspected his brother in law guy de lusignan was behind it but even if he is, there is nothing he could do

"You really are your father's son" you growled angrily

Baldwin iv finally snapped "Don't bring my father in to this". "It's just annulment papers all you need to do is sign it" you scoffed hearing his response and Baldwin iv suddenly felt sorry. He knew that he was very much like his father but this is the first time he felt extent of it.

"Thank goodness I don't have children with you, otherwise they too would have been snatched from me" that pierced Baldwin iv's heart.He always wanted children. Especially with you . One of the reason why he adorned his nephew. Baldwin iv sincerely loved you. Sure he wouldn't hand over his kids since having children despite having leprosy would be huge blessing. One that wouldn't happen again but that doesn't mean he will completely cut them off from your life

"I will make everything right I promise" "Once my sister annuls her marriage from her husband guy de lusignan I will appoint proper successor" "I will abdicate and come back to you" "We can remarry and live happily ever after" you laughed hearing this and Baldwin iv was suprised. You replied "Your sister understands her vow in marriage and wouldn't leave her husband no matter unlike you" "Also don't expect me waiting for you with open arms accepting you back" Baldwin iv was shocked and realised gravity of his situation. He fell on his knees and was greatly upset. He lost the woman he loved for the sake of crown. There was no way he could keep both and he choose crown. He now realised that things will never be same. The life he always dreamed of having with the woman he loved will never happen.

[whoreinadegradingway]

Oh look who’s sorry, now their answering to me

Tim was so tried, of the suspicious glares form Dick and Bruce even Steph, of being forgotten with the only people who would remember him on a regular and check up on him having tried to kill him. He just wanted to be welcomed in his home, not treated like and outsider to his family.

Harley noticed and offered to let him stay with her and pam. He accepted, Dami was heartbroken that the only two people who didn’t view him as a killer had left him.

Tim’s pov.

Living with Harley and Ivey was easy, though i wasn’t expecting to meet Harleys son Danny, he is kind and always makes sure i’m ok and doing well, He makes sure i’ve slept and eaten, he made me feel like i’m not a burden. So when he proposed that we start dating, of course i said yes. After dating for about a year we got our own two bedroom apartment, Damian would often stay with us to get away from Bruce’s bullshit. After two more year Danny proposed with Damian’s help, (3 years of dating) I had never stopped being RR. After a year and a half we both revealed our secret identity’s. Once we were engaged I moved into the place in the infinite realms. Damian moved with us. we consider ellie and dami our kids they get along like siblings being closer in age. Our wedding was grand the ghost called it the marriage between hero’s or, to kind souls becoming one. Danny got my father to walk me down the aisle. I hadn’t seen him in years it was like a dream come true, Dami was my best man with Jason and Connor and some other old friends as my groomsmen. Danny had all three of his siblings along with his two oldest friends. We were both over joyed the celebration was amazing, everyone that had made a positive impact on our lives were there Cass showed up and it was like the icing on the cake.

3rd person pov. Time skip three years.

Bruce was going insane it had been three years since he’d seen his youngest two kids, he know he’d treated them both badly Tim more so then Dami. He was in a JL meeting when a green portal opened and swallowed all the hero’s. When the shock wore off they saw that they were in what appeared to be a court room. They were chained in the center de-masked. A man sat in he judges spot. “Who are you and where are we” someone yelled bruce didn’t care, he couldn’t believe that his second youngest whom he believed to be dead stood there look healthier then when he live with bruce. “Oh, well i’m the king/queen of the infinite realms and you are all here as witnesses” (i stand gender fluid Tim Drake) “Tim what’s the meaning of this” Bruce yelled as he was left in the center while the other members filled the stands. “Darling I think your going to be quite a bias judge” a new voice spoke up, and a man with electric white hair slinked out of the shadows he was about 6’8 towering of Tim who stands at 5’10 average height. Tim tsked “why don’t you and Dami have a seat in the stands while i cover this one” “ Fine he responded Dami is already sitting there” The man bruce still didn’t know his name sat in the judges spot, “I Daniel Nightingale, holder of the ring of rage, King of the infinite realms ect. Charge Bruce Wanye with child abuse, child neglect and child endangerment, his punishment the nightmare realm” The man, Daniel had stated with a smirk, the magic users were shocked what had Bruce done to get this attention from both Kings of the infinite realms. “My dear i’m pretty sure that’s worse then what i was going to give him” The other male, Tim as they had learned said. “ well i’m sticking him with Vlad so it’s a fair trade” A childish laugh was heard Robin, the one that had gone missing sat there laughing as his father was put in the nightmare realm until they got borde of him. “ Well Tim off to the garden for tea with me” the boy had said “Of course” and the two walked off through the grand doors. Daniel watched with a smile before turning back to the remaining members “If you even dare to try anything you’ll be experiencing the nightmare realm first hand, got it?” He said as he smiled with to many teeth. silence followed by many heads nodding. “Good well off you go” they fell through another portal back to there meeting place. Danny smiled he now had a good life with an amazing family and he was going to let nothing harm them.

The end

[gh0stsp1d3r]

Ooo Omg imagine Morpheus with a reader who is the daughter of a Dream and a Nightmare, but was raised by humans, not knowing she wasn’t human, and the reader has powers, but can’t control them- Like she’ll abruptly appear in the Dreaming, and then disappear back into the Waking World, and then suddenly back to the Dreaming. And she accidentally keeps messing with humans dreams (she really isn’t meaning to hurt anyone). Morpheus taking her under his wing (as she is technically one of his Dreams) and teaching her how to control/use her powers. Her moving into the Dreaming permanently as her powers are more controlled in the Dreaming

𝒟𝓇ℯ𝒶𝓂𝒾𝓃𝑔

a/n- stoppp this is such a good idea hello??

It was often this happened. One moment you were in your world, and the next moment, you were in a bleak dark land, with puddles on the ground next to you and a giant castle like building.

You thought you were losing your mind, or simply imagining it all. This time, however, it happened twice.

You were back on your land, and just when you began walked you were back in the barren land. You looked around, confused.

You turned around, jumping when you saw a man standing, his arms behind his back. He stood like he had expected you.

You stared at the man, his hair black and his jaw sharp. He walked towards you slowly, gazing as if he was examining you.

“W-who are you?” You asked him, voice quiet as you stood there, you backed up from the man.

“I am Morpheus, or the the king of dreams. I’m guessing you’re the one who’s been messing with everyone’s dreams.” He said, looking at you closely, he didn’t expect you to look like how you did, for some reason.

You just stared at the man, lost. What was he even talking about?

“Well, Morpheus… it’s been great, how the hell do I-“

You were gone, again. Now you were back where you were originally, on your world. Thank God.

Morpheus stood there, sighing and creating a portal to your world. You were left shocked, confused, and dumbfounded when he walked through.

“If you would please stop doing that, and just… come with me?” He motioned to the open portal. You blinked at him, eyes wide.

“You want me, to go back with you, to that place again?”

“Yes. What’s happening to you is very explainable.”

“Am I dreaming?”

“No.”

“Am I high?”

“…No. Please, just, go in the portal.” He said, you hesitated before going into the portal. Now, you were inside the castle, it was large, the windows had light pouring in from them.

It was also very empty, you noticed as you looked around.

“Try to relax. It could be why you keep teleporting.” He said, walking ahead of you. You caught up and started to walk next to him.

“Okay…”

“You’re the child of a dream and a nightmare. You’re different.” He said, mostly to himself. His voice had a curious tone to it.

“What?”

“In this world, the dreaming, there are beings created to help me, those are the dreams and nightmares. They populate the realm. You managed to become the daughter of both, but even more interesting you ended up on earth.”

You listened to him closely.

“I can help you control the teleporting here. I can help you use your powers.”

You thought for a moment, the offer didn’t sound terrible. Free living?

“I can’t-“

“Then just stay for a little. A month or so. You can learn more about where you really came from, and learn how to control your powers with my help. Your powers are much more controlled here than they are in the living world.”

“Okay… and I won’t teleport anymore?”

“If you can learn how to control it. We can start tomorrow. In the meantime, I’ll show you to your room.”

[sanderchu]

tommyinnit fluff alphabet?? your writing is so good <33

Fluff alphabet

Tommy version!

Note: I did switch out the family for fluff :) there will be more detail on that when you see it :) I kept yes there because I wanna put his imagination kid brain in that one so it’s nothing like big like Karl just tommy being childish

A = Admiration (what do they absolutely adore about you?)

- your hair. Despite always talking about your eyes/mouth your hair catches his attention the most and just loves to practically mess it up

B = Body (what is their favorite part of your body?) [not in a wrong way of course]

- the top of your head or shoulders. He calls them his resting spot

C = Cuddling (how do they like to cuddle?)

- spooning or you on his chest or the other way around. It gives him a sense that he’s protecting you

D = Dates (what does their ideal date with you look like?)

- unexpected he could say “wanna go out” and you guys can end up in New York or something despite being in the uk to start off. He never makes them boring and makes sure to make them fun

E = Emotions (how do they express emotion around you?)

- very open by accident he tries not to come off as loud or chaotic but it’s his personality he can’t help it

F = fluff (a random fluff headcanon about them)

- you guys have those Lego heart necklaces but as bracelets because he didn’t want to come off as “original”

G = Gifts (how do they feel about gift giving? What are their habits when it comes to this?)

- if your gifting him things he’s insanely flattered and blushy but just acts like he’s ok and tries to act manly to hide how he feels

- if your receiving the gifts hes very big and a huge show off buying you the most biggest or expensive things but sometimes calms down and gets you something small like a keychain or sweater

H = Holding Hands (when/how do they like to hold hands?)

- ALWAYS HOLDING YOUR HAND. Sorry- he can’t live a day with your hand touch with his

I = Injury (how would they act if you got hurt?)

- his chaotic mood drops hes very concerned for you and is very helpful. Sounds like hes the one on the verge of tears when hes not even the one heart (it hurts the heart 😔💕)

“It’s going to be ok, no I’m not crying 🥹”

J = Jokes (do they like to joke around with or prank you? how?)

- king of jokes I may say. He’s very jokey and basically everyday is having jokes from him. A normal conversation can turn into you both dying laughing, red faces, tears running down, and bright smiles

K = Kisses (how do they like to kiss you?)

- likes to savor it so kinda long but not to long. In public hes quick not in public hes quick and always smiling. (He’s a sweet boy 🥹💕)

L = Love (how do they show you they love you?)

- touch (not wrong dont be weird-) or gift giving is his best. His actions speak better than his words. His words are always stumbled or slurred because he never knows what to say since he says more without thinking but around you he watches what he says to prevent him saying something to dramatic

M = Memory (favorite memory together?)

- late night in brighton taking a walk and being loud teens having an amazing time just star watching

N = Nightmare (what is their worst fear?)

- you getting tired of him. He understands how he can be so he expects it but also can never see it happen especially the longer the relationship you guys are in

O = Oddity (what is one quirk they have?)

- he likes to like run his fingers down your arm or back to freak you out- (I hope you know what I’m talking about-)

P = Pet Names (what do they like to call you?)

- babe, baby girl/boy, baby, l/n (last name), mr/mrs simons

Q = Quality Time (how do they like to spend time with you?)

- anything really but mostly just watching a show and discussing it basically pausing it every second

R = Rhythm (what song reminds you of them?)

- classic -MKTO

- sunkissed -Khaki dreams

S = Secrets (how open are they with you?)

- pretty open. I mean half his life is on the internet so there’s really no difference only some pretty personal things or secret projects you only know

T = Time (how long did it take you to get together?)

- 1 year before Wilbur said ‘fuck it’ and confessed for tommy to you

U = Upset (how do they act when you’re upset?)

- his very distant but also close sending little text messages asking if your ok or if you need anything

V = Vaunt (Do they like to show you off?)

- Y E S he announced it during a twitch panel and ever since he’s

W = Warrior (how do they feel about you fighting? Would they fight for you, beside you, etc?)

- he would use his words. Let’s be honest, tommy would be kinda to scared being beat up but also just won’t not to increase any problems

X = X-Ray (how well are they able to read you?)

- kinda well (not at all) he’s very blind with that but is a good helper and comforter

Y = Yes (how would they propose to you?)

- so let’s say when you guys started dating his inner child kicked in and goes “I’m going to marry you when we’re older!” And thinks of all these places and ideas and takes your interest to find ideas jjst to make you happy

Z = Zen (what makes them feel calm?)

Playing with his hair or kissing his temples, he melts into your arms like goo

[fallenasleepyetagain]

Competing - Blue/Nightmare Fic

Media: UTMV/UTAU

Genres: Human AU, normal multiverse, homoerotic chess game, flirting or threats? who knows!

Characters: King Nightmare, Blue, Dream (mentioned), Ink (mentioned)

Pairing(s): Nightmare/Blue

CW/TW: Threats, Nightmare vaguely taking about his Evil Plans™️

Word Count: 1434

Read it on ao3!

"Have a seat."

Nightmare sat on the opposite side of the large living room from the main entrance. The room was large, and if Blue was there for any other reason, it would've felt homey.

The living room contained a multitude of different activities scattered around the place. There was a large fireplace on the far wall, large and ornate, no fire burning in it at the moment. The floor was a dark wood, but there was a variety of teal and black carpets around the room, specifically around the couches and chairs.

The walls were filled to the brim with tall, wooden bookshelves. On most of them, there were rows and rows of books, as to be expected. Large books with damaged spines and withering covers were located at the top, out of reach, and out of danger. On the lower shelves were magazines and books clearly deemed less important by Nightmare.

On others were rows and rows of video game cartridges, as well as music CDs and cassettes. If Blue had to guess, there were also VHS tapes and recordings of TV shows and movies, but he wasn't close enough to see the exact filmography Nightmare had.

Wherever there weren't book shelves, there were small tables with unfinished projects and board games on them. There were some whittling projects scattered about, as well as a board game with an obvious loser who wasn't willing to throw in the towel.

All of that pales in comparison to, truly, what was the star of the show. On the left side of the room was a beautiful and ornate chess table, built from a dark marble with silver accents.

The pieces were likely hand carved, no two pawns looked the same despite the similar shaping to them. One side was made from a dark metal of some kind, decorated with teal and blue gemstones, the other set being a light silver with orange and white gems.

"Pretty, isn't it?" Nightmare said as Blue stared down at the chess set.

For a moment, Blue forgot where he was, what the stakes were. He nodded, fidgeting with his scarf.

"Shall we play, then?"

"What?"

Nightmare gestured for Blue to sit on the opposing side of the chess table: the side with the silver pieces. He obliged, although his body tensing as he sits down, the bottom half of his face hidden in his scarf.

"Have you ever played chess before, Blue?"

There was some hesitation; Blue's eyes darted to the board, the beautiful chess pieces, before back up at Nightmare. "...Yes. Not recently, but I have. I know the rules."

"Oh wonderful, I was worried that I'd have to teach you. That'd be a lot less fun," Nightmare hummed as he ran his thumb across his nails. "I get to skip to why you're here, which is preferable."

"I'm here to negotiate Dream and Ink's freedom." Blue said, his teeth grinding together. He knew a diplomatic conversation was the only way to succeed. Fighting Nightmare and his gang on his own was out of the question, and he couldn't rely on stealth to free his friends.

Not when Nightmare could hear the quickening of his heartbeat.

"But that's so boring, don't you think?" Nightmare fidgeted with the rook on the far left of the chess board. "We could have an intellectual back and forth, and with you I always do adore it, but this will just be a whole lot more fun."

"I- I mean...I guess so."

"So glad we're on the same page. Now, let me tell you about the stakes of the little game we are about to play."

Fidgeting with his rook, Nightmare allowed the suspense to build for a moment. "It's simple, really. We're playing for Dream and Ink's freedom.

"You win, and you all get to go home! No fights, no stakes, you just get to leave this castle untouched." He sat back in his chair, a sly smile on his face. "We end in a draw, and you take their place. Dream and Ink will be forced out of this universe, and you stay with me."

Nightmare leaned against the table, getting as close to Blue as physics allowed him. "If I win, on the other hand, then you'll never see them again."

"What? What do you mean?" Blue's hand gripped the arms of the chair, his fingers twitching, ready to summon his sword. "You'll kill me?"

"Oh, no no no, you misunderstand. I have uses, for the both of them, you see. And they cannot fulfill those roles until I've got all of you in the palm of my hand."

"And what about me?"

"What about you?"

"They have..." Blue ground his teeth, "uses. I don't?"

"No." Nightmare answered simply, smiling at him. "You're incredibly handsome though and that alone makes me want to keep you."

A shiver of discomfort shot through Blue's spine.

"So, shall we play then? I'll let you make the first move."

"Okay."

Blue looked down at the pieces, there were only a few options for what he could choose as a first move. All of the pawns; he could start with a queen's gambit, and the two knights.

What was Nightmare expecting him to do? Do something classic? Something unexpected? Was something truly unexpected if someone was expecting that was what you're going to do?

"Take as much time as you need."

The knight on the left side of the board reached his hand and he placed it down in front of his pawns.

"Oh, I knew you would make this fun."

Each and every turn was agony. Barely any actual words were spoken, just small hums and the occasional curse word. Blue's heart was pounding the entire time, trying desperately to get into Nightmare's head, and to play unpredictable enough that Nightmare couldn't get into his.

Nightmare's poker face never changed, even as Blue would capture his pieces. Just the softest, saccharine smile on his lips.

"Checkmate."

With ringing in his ears and his heart threatening to leap right out of his chest, Blue glanced down at the board. His throat was dry and he gripped down on his thighs.

"What?" Nightmare looked genuinely shocked. His eyes widened slightly as he scanned the chess board, working through each and every possible move with the remaining pieces on the board. "...Would you look at that. It appears that you've mated me. Congratulations."

Suddenly, Blue felt like his life was on the line. Nightmare stood up, slowly walking to the other side of the board. His nails tapping against the edge of the board.

A shutter left Blue's body as Nightmare got closer, his eyes squeezing shut. He was expecting pain, a fight, something, but it never came. Instead, Nightmare placed a small, shiny key in his hands, his lips close to Blue's ear.

"This was fun. We should do it again sometime." Nightmare said softly, his hand gently caressing Blue's reddening cheeks. He paused after taking a few steps. "Go get your friends. No one will stop you."

"Wait-!" Blue staggered to his feet, clutching the key to his chest. "You were going easy on me, weren't you?"

"Was I?" Nightmare glanced back, a smirk on his face. "Come to me again some time. We'll play again, and maybe you'll know."

Blue watched as Nightmare sauntered away, heart fluttering in his chest. As terrifying as it was, knowing Dream and Ink, and his own livelihood were on the line, it was thrilling.

Thrilling. Exhilarating. No one had ever looked at him the way Nightmare had during their game. Even though Nightmare often referred to him as "mortal," Blue felt as if they were on equal footing.

Is this what Sherlock felt like when he came across foes who could keep up with him?

Nightmare's thought process was a mystery to him, and something deep within Blue's mind wanted to solve it. Nightmare had such power, such control over his magic, his abilities. Blue was almost jealous.

To know Nightmare's mind, every square inch of how his brain works, every part of Nightmare's body-

With a shake of his head, Blue turned on his heel and sprinted to the dungeon. He couldn't be thinking about Nightmare, not when Dream was his best friend.

But...perhaps...in the middle of the night, when Ink and Dream were fast asleep, he could escape to the castle, and play once more. Challenge Nightmare's wits with his own.

As his hands placed the key into the lock of the cell, he knew that he had to come back.

Shit.

[lya-dustin]

Shock and Delight

Chapter 9

Cw: mentions of age gap romance, attempted assault, and westrosi marriage traditions

If you think the age of the new Lady Hightower was the scandal of last week’s ball, prepare for something else, dear reader.

Lady Samantha is rather young and far too fond of her eldest stepson sure, but who would have thought two romances would appear before the night was over?

One as expected as Prince Aegon’s drinking and the other as shocking as the discovery of Lord Lyonel Hightower in the gardens with a broken face.

Dear reader, are you prepared for this week’s report?

“I think there is some merit in her words.” Lady Victaria, Alicent’s former favorite and cousin on her mother’s side, comments as Aemond stares at Aemma a little longer than he should.

Even worse Aemond fights a smile when he sees her whisper something to her stepsisters as Lyonel appears to claim her first dances if the evening.

Lyonel clashes with her completely in a color that does not suit him and Aemond looks as if they had done it on purpose. If Aemond took off his eyepatch it would match exactly with the sapphire teardrops she wore on her neck.

“She is fond of blue; you are reading too much into this.” Alicent dismissed her words knowing after tonight she won’t have to worry about his imagined romance between her son and her rival’s daughter.

“Your lord father thinks it would be very dangerous for him to wed her, sees himself in him and he didn’t mean it as praise, my dear cousin.” Vicky continues speaking and Alicent notes how often her father comes up in conversation.

They were close, always had been until Vicky was sent home with her ailing mother and then when Rhaenyra became her enemy, she returned and took her place in her heart. Recently, Vicky had struck up a friendship with her father. First because of the sudden death of her brother and nephews left her the torchbearer of House Bulwer and now because they seemed to get along.

It was nothing of course, even the Morning Scandal hadn’t said anything about it yet and that bitch knew everything.

“Don’t you think I know, Vicky?” the queen asked as she plastered a smile and gave Lady Tully a nod so she’d push her daughters onto her stoic son. The queen knows he’ll reject them as he always has, but it helps keep him occupied enough for Lyonel to take Aemma’s dances.

This cannot fail.

Lyonel Hightower and his father, Ormund, had come to her solar this morning while the children had gone.

They had been clear: Aemma’s hand in exchange for their support.

Rhaenyra did not wish for war, but Rhaenys’ words then were still the same now. Many lords would set the real to the torch if a woman became king.

It does not matter if you are competent enough to rule nor how many dragons you have at your disposal, it only matters at what is between your legs.

She’s had nightmares since Visenya was born. Nightmares of her children dying, of herself, of Daemon and being Syrax as she is killed by a mob.

Dragon dreams, Helaena had whispered when Rhaenyra awoke from her labor to find her sister holding her hand in shared pain.

I have them too, she had whispered and revealed hers.

They cannot come true.

Rhaenyra promised her daughter a love match and never wanted to do to her what her father did to her at her age.

But the war for the succession couldn’t come to pass.

“Have you given my suit your approval, your highness?” Lyonel asks as he eyes Aemma blissfully ignorant of the news waiting for her here.

She loves dancing and dressing up and all the things girls her age love. She dreams of a love story like that of Rhaenys and Corlys just as Rhaenyra had wanted at eight and ten.

Now her dreams for a husband who loves and understands her are ruined.

All because Rhaenyra was not born a man.

“You may present an offer, but I will not force her to accept should she reject you. She is of age after all.”  The Princess of Dragonstone wasn’t even sure what answer she wanted to hear from her daughter.

Six and ten was the age of majority, at six and ten one could not have a regent and while a daughter must marry whom their father says, she was legally allowed to marry a man of her own choosing as long as there were no prior commitments.

Rhaenyra had delayed Aemma’s debut into society for exactly this reason.

“By the end of the ball we will be family, your highness, I assure you.”

Rhaenyra does not like the sound of his words.

The evening is uneventful.

Of course supper has yet to be served and so much could go wrong by then.

Aemma escapes notice as everyone focused on the unlikeliest thing to happen unfolding before their eyes.

Ser Otto Hightower smiling and enjoying the company of a woman younger than his own daughter.

Aemma had very little memory of the Lord Hand save that he did not like her and that he found fault in everything.

Lady Victaria was nice? The princess wasn’t sure, most of her memories were clouded by the queen’s odd dislike of her and her ladies always seeking to embarrass her as a child to gain favor with her.

She did have vague memories of her first wedding; the bride was six and ten and had cried because she had been told she would marry her disgusting uncle who would inherit her castle. Aemma supposed after being widowed twice and her father shuffling off his mortal coil, Lady Victaria could finally have a man of her choosing.

Daemon laughs at the fear Alicent tries to ide as Ser Otto is charmed into joining the set with his lady. “I wasn’t even aware he could dance, Dorne’s going to freeze if Vicky Bulwer keeps making him human.”

“I suppose the Lord Hand may be to be busy to usurp my lady mother if they wed.” Aemma knows he won’t, but perhaps having a young wife in need of children may improve his stern disposition. For the first time in her life, Aemma had seen the Lord Hand smile at someone who wasn’t Helaena.

“Then I wish him a bounty of strapping sons and delightful daughters to keep him the fuck away from us.” The Rogue Prince whispers back as they headed back to where her oh so hated suitor awaited with her mother.

“Lord Lyonel has asked me if you could spare him a moment, Aem.” The way mother shifts as she speaks, like when she broke the news of father’s death when she was one and ten, has Aemma’s hairs at the back of her neck rise in warning.

When Lyonel escorts her outside the manse and towards the gardens, Aemma knows she’s fucked.

Aemond is bored by the time his grandfather’s dance with Aunt Vicky ends.

While keeping Lyonel away from Aemma was an easy job, avoiding the ladies mother tosses his way left and right is enough to worsen his headaches.

Aemma was dancing with Daemon and seeing how he sent Ser Corwyn Corbray running at the tiltyard this morning, Aemond was confident he could keep Lyonel at a distance.

The one-eyed prince is not alone here tonight.

There is always one who follows trying to trap him into marriage or lovers meeting for a tryst, and in this case, a man getting rejected.

Tonight, it is Lyonel pressing his suit on his unwilling target, Aemma.

He should interfere, Aemond thinks as he keeps his distance and hears his niece interrupt with a no before the man is even done with his proposal. Aemond begins to walk away until Lyonel speaks again.

“You will be mine, your highness, come hell or high water. The Queen has given me leave to marry you tomorrow if need be.” Lyonel must be lying through his teeth to induce a yes from Aemma who knows she cannot afford to say no.

Aemond’s resolve to ignore this and mind his own business is broken when he hears the unmistakable sounds of Lyonel using physical force to get that yes from the third in line for the throne.

He was never bright, but Aemond had hoped he had more sense than that.

By the time he reaches the path --- the dagger in his boot in hand as a precaution--- the unwilling bride and her attacker were at, Lyonel is doubled down in pain as Aemma bolts into the unlight portion of the gardens like a frightened deer.

Having no other choice, Aemond put away his dagger and kicked Lyonel some more. Aemma may be Rhaenyra’s whelp, but he’d be damned if he let Lyonel be conscious enough to ruin her.

[dream-of-the-bitchless]

Happy Birthday Month!! May it be the most fantabulous of months. 💖💖

Could I humbly request a Corinthiel piece (shocker I know 😅) for you birthday prompts. It can be absolutely anything you desire.

Thanks for the nice wishes (: it was quite the month, that's for sure.

So, for you I decided to go for something a little different than the prompts I had suggested. I got inspired by Nightmare Country and figured why not expand on that a little? It is a tiny bit angsty, but it ends well. I hope you enjoy reading as much as I did writing it ^^

Madison Flynn licked her paw and proceeded to rub her face against it, leaving one eye open to watch the retreating form of the King of Dreams. To her left stood the Corinthian, hands in his pockets, his whole body turned towards his master. The line of his shoulders conveyed the anger that was brewing inside after both him and Flynn were forbidden from leaving the Dreaming to continue working on the case that had brought them together in the first place.

“So, that’s it? We just sit here and let those people continue as they were?” Flynn questioned, the fur on her back rising with discomfort.

“Pretty much. He’ll take care of the rest,” assured The Corinthian.

“And you’re okay with that?”

“What do you want me to do? You heard him. If I try anything, he’ll simply erase my memories.” The Corinthian’s eyes were obscured by his customary shades, yet the slump of his shoulders belied his true mood. “I’ll be left with nothing. Again.”

Flynn’s brow furrowed. She wasn’t used to seeing such openly displayed vulnerability in the Corinthian, although she’d always had the impression there was a lot of it under the surface. She hadn’t even noticed they’d spent an entire year together before Max pointed out the date of her death, but she couldn’t deny she had grown to understand the nightmare, perhaps even appreciate him. She was still angry at him, though.

“It was very arsehole-y of you to leave us to die at that office, you know?”

The Corinthian sighed. “For the last time. I did what I had to do to get what we needed. I had a plan to get you out of there. If anything, I left you at the safest place you could be.”

Flynn’s whiskers twitch, unamused. “Being with an ancient, murderous witch doesn’t sound very safe. But sure, can’t wait to hear what that amazing plan of yours entailed.”

“There’s no need for it anymore, so you can just forget about it.”

“That’s just another way of saying you had no plan!”

“Fuck, Flynn. You never give up, do you? You’re here, you’re fine, now let it go,” the Corinthian directed an annoyed look at the cat by his feet, fumbling with the zipper of his jacket.

Flynn acquiesced and started licking her paw anew, allowing the nightmare to fester in his annoyance, before sitting next to her. After deeming to have let the silence stretch enough, she voiced the question she had been meaning to ask for a while now. “Max told me what they did in that club, that he had been offered anything he wanted. Did he offer you that for us, too?”

Flynn didn’t need to clarify she meant Azazel. The Corinthian hummed his affirmation.

“What did he give you?”

“Something I wasn’t interested in,” the nightmare answered, rushed, as if already expecting the question.

Flynn tilted her head. “Odd. Didn’t seem like the kind to miss the mark. How off was he?”

A humoured scoff left the Corinthian’s chest. “Not even in the same ballpark.”

“Did he offer you to kill?”

“Yeah, something like that.”

“Like that?” Flynn parroted, eyes narrowing in suspicion. “I guess I can see why you didn’t take it, then. I would’ve stopped you.”

The Corinthian sighed again. “Believe it or not, killing is not the only thing in my mind. I’m very complex. Multifaceted, even, you know?”

“What did you want, then?”

The Corinthian stilled for a moment, and when he finally answered, he seemed miles away. “Nothing he could give me.”

The cat’s eyes twinkled with curiosity, but she didn’t press further.

“I still think it’s crap that we cannot keep investigating. I mean, those people ruined my life, you know?”

The Corinthian patted her head, and the smile on his face was as genuine as his could be. “At least you got a life.”

And after that, the nightmare stood up and walked away.

*~*

Corinthian, he heard, directly in his head, making all his teeth chatter. Come to see me, he got ordered, leaving no room for discussion, despite the sweetness of the melody in that voice. And the Corinthian obeyed.

Dream of the Endless waited for him at the dining room. In this new form, he had taken to holding council in different areas, not limited to the throne room. The Corinthian did not know how he felt about it yet.

“You called, my Lord?” he voiced, more as a statement than an actual question.

“Yes. We must discuss some matters.” Dream’s entire attention was glued to the paintings on the walls, the scenes depicted on them playing over and over in an eternal loop whose players weren’t aware of. It reminded The Corinthian of that Grecian urn poem by Keats, his mind supplied. He had no idea why he knew it.

He straightened his back, not quite standing at attention, waiting to be debriefed. Dream’s eyes finally met his, and they softened minutely. The Corinthian swallowed around nothing.

“What did Lord Azazel offer you?” his Creator asked.

“Why is everyone so interested in that?”

“Corinthian,” Dream called, making the Corinthian smirk.

“Oh, doing the voice and everything. Okay, fine. He offered me some kills.”

“Of what kind?”

“I don’t know, the mortal kind, allegedly. But I’ll be damned before I trust the word of a demon.”

“You do well by being wary,” Dream said, but he seemed distracted, in thought.

The Corinthian felt the annoyance in him grow. “You also thought I would betray you, my Lord? All for the price of a few pairs of eyes?”

Dream hummed. “No. I would like to think you are aware enough to know that what I offer you surpasses anything Azazel could ever hope to concoct.”

“Is that an offering?” the Corinthian challenged, bolder than he truly felt.

“My realm is not that of Desire. But I know what you would dream of, were you able to,” Dream said, and then his entire awareness was focused on the Corinthian, including that of the entire collective unconscious.

The gesture lasted a mere second, yet it was enough to knock the breath out of the Corinthian. He caught a smile spreading over Dream’s lips before the King turned away from him.

“Lord Azazel could not give you what you dream of because it was not his to give,” Dream mused, taking a few steps before doing a slight turn of the head, gazing at the Corinthian from under his lashes. “I, however, can. After all, I am mine to give away as I please.”

The Corinthian’s mouth fell open. He normally hated being read so easily, and he had always been so transparent to his creator. It was unnerving and intoxicating at the same time.

“Daniel—” he started, hand stretched out, and the personification before him stopped minutely.

“You still hold onto that name.” There was incredulity and wonder in the Dream King’s voice. The Corinthian thought he heard gratitude as well. “We will continue this conversation soon enough. For now, there is much I need to attend to. Please make sure to remain available,” Dream added, making his way out of the room and leaving the Corinthian alone with a table topped with food.

The nightmare ran a hand through his hair, trying to process everything that had happened. He paced around, plucking at some of the things on the table and nibbling on them with nervous energy. On the farthermost side of the table, where the Corinthian had found Dream, something caught his attention: a half-eaten apple, sitting next to an open jar of peanut butter. The Corinthian assumed Lyta Hall would approve.

[dreamdepot]

Dreams of the Kingdom - Chapter 9: Moonshot

Edited 7/9/2024 - Updated chapter navigation links

Previous < First > Next

On the road to Gerudo, you come across the strangest band of soldiers, claiming to be on a special mission... to the moon.

AO3 Wattpad or below the break!

(Unfortunately, internet trouble delayed my corrections to earlier chapter posts, so I will get to them as soon as I have a more stable connection.)

“AAAHHHH!!!” You screamed. You bolted upright in your tent in a cold sweat.

“What’s wrong?” Link said, bursting into the tent. He ran over mid-bath, hair soaked and towel around his waist. “Was it the dream again?”

You gulped down air, trying to get your heart to slow down. “No. It was a dream, but not that one.” Link gave you an inquisitive look. “It was awful! I lived in this crappy shack in the middle of nowhere. One day I end up finding this magic pool, but then this creeper called Mr. Rupee appeared and took all my money! Then he turned me into a Tingle – whatever the hell THAT is – and made me work for him!”

Link blinked slowly. “Okay, no more crepes before bed.”

“I had one, you had five.”

“It’s called bulking,” Link said, puffing up his bare chest. “You don’t expect me to take on the Demon King without plenty of energy, right?” You had to admit, he was looking bigger in all the right spots.

“Go finish your bath, show-off,” you said, throwing a blanket at him. “I’ll be fine.”

He, of course, caught the blanket without a problem. “Seriously [Y/n], you need to take it easy. You haven’t slowed down since… well, since you woke up a century in the future. These dreams might be a way for your body to want you to rest.”

“Sidon said the same thing, but I can’t. Even if the dreams are meaningless – which we know they aren’t if I was dreaming about the Demon King!” You snorted. “I can’t rest, not until we know all of our people are safe.”

Link took your hand. “We won’t stop, just slow down a little bit. Running ourselves into the ground isn’t going to help anyone. And maybe we could spend some time just to ourselves?”

“Easier said than done,” you groaned.

“Hey, we promised we’d be there for each other, no matter where our adventures take us. You lean on me, and I lean on you.”

“You’re right.” You couldn’t help the little smile. “Actually, Link… I’ve been thinking about these dreams. One of them was about a monster at a palace in the sky, and then I got that weird rock on the Stormwind Ark from Colgera. Then, I had this dream of transporting this strange ore that couldn’t be out in daylight without melting, and then we found another rock in the Central Mine in the Depths. I think these dreams are leading us places, but I don’t know why. Doesn’t help that the other weird rock I found with the Yiga in the Depths still makes no sense either.”

Link thought for a moment, sitting next to you on the bedroll. “Do you think that, uh, ‘Mr. Rupee’ is a sign?”

“No, pretty sure that one is just me having a random nightmare.” You explained each of the other dreams to Link in as much detail as you could recall, all the while combing his hair and braiding it back through his favorite hair band. “Some of them seem pretty clear, like the one with the Gorons probably has something to do with Death Mountain, and the one with the Arbiter’s Grounds probably means we should stop by on our trip to Gerudo Town. But the others? I’m not so sure.”

Link nodded. “That first one could be the Deku Tree, but then again, maybe not. Then that one where you were a Zora… does that mean we have to go to the moon?”

“Hope not,” You thought some more. “It’s also weird, that it showed me different versions of you – or maybe heroes of the past? The other people I watch from though… they feel wrong. It’s not me, like I’m just watching through their eyes.”

“Sounds like someone wants to get you a message. Not sure what a bunch of rocks means but must be something important.”

“That’s not all.” You took a deep breath. “Ganondorf… spoke to me. He said that I was a puppet and that he wasn’t the only one pulling the strings. Do you think…”

“I think,” Link said, “Ganondorf is trying to get you to second guess everything. But I doubt he’d want to send you on a random goose chase.”

You groaned and fell back on the bedroll. Link took the opportunity to lie next to you. “Hey, how about you just stay with me for a bit.”

You wriggled as he wrapped his arms around you. “You’re soaking wet.”

“Don’t care,” he snickered. “You’re trapped, your majesty. No escaping from me now.”

“Nooo…” you weakly protested as Link pulled you in tight, trapped against him. “Couldn’t you at least dry off? It’s cold!”

“Too bad. Come on, let your knight take care of you.” Link captured your lips in a deep kiss. His hands traveled down your back as he gently laid you down on the bedroll, trapped under him. “I think you’ve got to many clothes on, my love.”

“Link…”

“Just let go and relax for a bit. No one’s gonna be upset we stayed in bed a little longer this morning.”  

Just as things were starting to warm up, you were interrupted by voices outside. “One! Two, three, four-and-one! Two, three, four-and-one!”

“Link,” you said, tapping his shoulder. The swordsman growled, burying his face into your neck instead. “Come on, my love.”

The squeaky voice outside sounded closer. “And company… halt! This is the perfect place for us to launch to the moon!”

Both of you froze. “You’ve got to be kidding me,” Link grumbled. He tossed on some clothes.

You, meanwhile, poked your head out of the tent, coming face to face with a group of Koroks. The apparent leader held a makeshift flag made of a stick and some leaves while the others worked together to carry a Zonai fan. “Uh… Link? You might want to see this.”

The Korok leader spun around. “Ack! There’s not supposed to be anyone watching us! We’ll have to leave, this is important work – secret work!”

A still-disheveled Link poked his head out too and just stared, speechless. You fished for words. “Um, who are you, and why do you need our campsite?”

“Oh, well, um…” the Korok muttered embarrassed, before returning to his more bombastic tone. “My name is Captain Hollo, and I’m the commander of the Korok Space Program! These are my hard-working rocket builders.”

The four Koroks following him waved and simultaneously said “Hi!”

You looked to Link, who shrugged. “So… why do you want to go to moon exactly?”

“That is classified information! Now if you’ll excuse us, attention, company! March!”

The other Koroks responded with a hearty “Yes sir!”

The adorable battalion turned about-face, still holding the Zonai fan. “Perhaps, we could help?” Link offered, giving you a look that asked for help of his own.

“Halt!” Captain Hollo spun around and waddled up to the two of you. “You volunteer to help us?”

“Well, Sir Link is a high-ranking officer in the Grand Hylian Army, and I am the Prince…” you said. “So, perhaps you could see it as our duty to ensure the Korok Space Program is successful?”

“Really? Ya ha ha!” Hollo said, bouncing for joy. He then froze. “I mean… ahem. That would be greatly appreciated. The Korok Space Program thanks you!”

==============================

The first step was to convince them to move somewhere reasonably safe and far from any people, so after clearing out some monsters (and two Yiga hideouts), you brought the Koroks and their gear up to the Great Plateau, just north of the Eastern Abbey. The wide flat area made the perfect launchpad.

The Koroks immediately set to building their first prototype – a log with several fans attached. That went about as well as expected.

“I’m surprised it got as far as it did,” you muttered, looking at the wooden missile now firmly lodged in one of the old buildings of Outpost Ruins.

“Didn’t really have a way to fly though,” Link added.

Captain Hollo wasn’t fazed. “That’s okay! We found plenty of other devices!” His team started bringing capsule after capsule of Zonai devices to the launch pad.

“How?!” Link asked.

“We found a funny statue that if you put stuff in, it gives us these!” He held up one, holding a steering stick. “Ooo, this one’s even a bit of a rare pull!”

“Oh no,” you murmured quietly, paling as you recognized some of the other capsules as beam emitters and time bombs.

==============================

The next few hours were spent trying not to get flattened by failed machines.

Prototype two was at least more aerodynamic, as they discovered the Wing device. Unfortunately, they decided more wings meant better flight and tied about ten of them together. This one barely got off the ground, much to your relief.

Prototype three was more understandable: a single wing, a steering stick and a fan. However, the Koroks thought that to better get it in the air, they should use springs. Needless to say, about two seconds later, you were carrying the Koroks and sprinting to cover as the aircraft flung backwards towards you. The machine sprang over you, bounced off a stray Aerocuda, and off the edge of the plateau. You hoped what you heard after that was not the crunch of wood from it landing on top of the nearby stable.

The next rocket was rather… phallic. That said, Koroks didn’t exactly know what those were (unless you counted the one time with Link after the Trial of the Sword), so you were willing to give them a pass. This time they actually used rockets, but decided more firepower was better so they (unfortunately) slapped two time bombs on as well. The results were explosive. The poor Bokoblin that got too close was launched all the way to Lake Hylia. As for the rest of the rocket, most of it was destroyed, with only the tip flying high into the sky and far across Hyrule – narrowly missing Farosh on its daily flight.

Test rocket after test rocket, prototype after prototype. It was late evening by the time that the Koroks finally seemed to run out of steam. Several of them had fallen asleep in your lap as the latest prototype exploded on the makeshift launchpad. Captain Hollo began to cry. “Why… why can’t we get it to work?”

“Hey, hey, that’s okay,” you said, patting the little spirit on the back. “Just gotta keep trying, right?”

“But we’re running out of ti-i-ime!” Captain Hollo had moved on to all-out sobbing. You gave him a handkerchief and held him gently. “The Deku Tree needs us!”

Link immediately zeroed in on that. “Hey, what do you mean? Is the Deku Tree in trouble?”

The Korok blew his nose – which to be honest, you weren’t sure how that worked biologically speaking. “He… he’s very sick. Our stories always said that a Moon’s Tear could heal anything, so we need to get the Moon’s Tear to save him!”  

You didn’t have the heart to tell him that the last Moon Tear anyone had seen in centuries was probably the one in your dream. “What kind of sickness?”

“It’s like he can’t breathe. He has trouble talking, and there’s this nasty fog he coughs up. The other Koroks don’t move anymore. The forest is frozen…”

“That sounds like gloom sickness,” Link said. “There’s probably an easier cure than a Moon Tear. Gonna need a lot of Sundelions.”

“We’ll help you, but first we should go see the Deku Tree ourselves,” you said.

“But you can’t!” Captain Hollo sniffled. “The Deku Tree created a magic barrier so no one can get into the woods. Even if you could fly, the barrier wouldn’t let you in from the sky.”

“So, if not from the sky or the surface, what about underground?” Link mused.

Captain Hollo was confused. “You’re going to dig?”

“Not quite,” you said. “Are there any really big holes in the Korok Woods?”

“Nuh-uh,” the other Koroks said, though one added, “Just the Deku Tree’s tummy.”

You winced. “That does make things a bit tougher.”

“We’ve got a way around it,” Link said. “Or, I guess I do.”

“Without using Ascend myself, I won’t be able to follow you to the Korok Woods.” You frowned. “I guess that leaves us with no choice.”

You could see Link’s jaw clench. “I don’t like leaving you when it’s so dangerous…”

“I can take care of myself, promise.” Link nodded, but he wasn’t pleased. You wanted to ask more, but not with the Koroks there. You took his hands in yours. “Link, I’m not going to go anywhere too dangerous, and even I’m not crazy enough to try going into Gerudo Desert without backup. I’ll go and check on the others and Zelda’s house. Meet you in Hateno, okay?”

Link turned your words over in his head. There seemed to be a lot he wanted to say, but given present company, he didn’t seem ready to talk about it. “Okay, just please be safe.”

“You have my word as a royal. You’ll get no crazy stunts from me.”

“Yeah, you better not,” he said with a slight laugh. He then turned to the Koroks. “It’s too dangerous for you to follow [Y/n] or me. What will you do?”

The Koroks huddled for a moment. Captain Hollo then turned and cleared his throat. “We’d like to keep play- I mean researching these machines!” He said, with a hearty nod from his squad. “We’re going to keep researching over by the big town on the lake with all the pretty trees.”

“Big town on the lake… oh, you mean Tarrey Town? Just be careful, okay?” The last thing you wanted was a stray rocket hitting one of the houses.

You took out your Purah Pad, when you felt a tug at your pant leg. “Wait, Mr. Prince sir!” Captain Hollo said. “This is for you. This is what gave us the idea to search for the Moon Tear. It fell out of the sky! Isn’t it pretty? Since we won’t need it for the Deku Tree, we want you to have it!”

He handed you another of the strange bronze rocks. This time however, the pull of energy was much stronger. Then, your pack started to vibrate. You pulled out the other two similar rocks, which glowed ever so slightly at being near the other. You then felt a tingle of energy shoot up your arm. That’s when it all made sense. “Link, do you know what this is?”

“Another rock?”

You could hardly contain your excitement. “They’re pieces of the Triforce! Look!” You held out your hand, showing how your mark began to glow in response to the pieces. “The Palace of Winds, the Central Mine, and now the ‘Moon Tear’? My dreams have to be leading us to them! This has to be the way we’ll beat Ganondorf, once and for all!”

Link brightened, seeing how the pieces pulsed. “This is amazing! But, why are you dreaming about the Triforce?”

“No idea, but at this point, it’s a blessing. If we can reassemble the Triforce, we could get rid of Ganondorf, bring back Zelda, and rebuild Hyrule!”

“One thing at a time,” Link said. He then frowned. “Promise me you’re not going to go off looking on your own.”

You paused and dropped your voice to a whisper. “Link, where is this coming from? You’ve never been this… protective. I’m a warrior like you, I’m not made of glass.”

“I’m sorry, I know, I know!” He sighed. “I’m just… with everything going on, I don’t want anything happening to you.”

“I’ll be okay, but I need you to trust me Link. I can handle myself, just like I have before and just like I trust you to fight when you need to.”

Link softened, pulling you into a hug. “I trust you. I know you could kick any monster’s ass – you could probably slay a Lynel with a toothpick. I’ve just been really in my own head lately.”

“I promise, it’s just going to be straight to Kakariko, and then onward to Hateno. No Triforce pieces without you, and definitely no more Phantom Ganons if I can help it.” You gave him a kiss. “You be safe too, alright?”

“Of course. I love you, my Prince.”

“And I love you, my knight. I’ll see you soon.” With that, you tapped the Sheikah Slate and teleported away.

==============================

You landed at Dueling Peaks Stables, not far from Kakariko Village. It was getting dark, but you figured you could still make the hike before the moon was too high in the sky. Thankfully you weren’t alone; the shining form of the Light Dragon passed above you.

Seeing the Light Dragon again made your stomach twist, though you still couldn’t place why. This time, however, was accompanied by a sharp pain in your head, stronger than before. You stopped for a moment and looked around to see if anything had changed. Thankfully, the mountain path was the same as it ever was. “Ugh… maybe I’ll need to rest a bit longer than I planned.” You continued the climb up the hill, rubbing the side of your head. Kakariko was only a short walk away, and a rest at the inn and some of Trissa’s home cooking sounded perfect.

==============================

You stood atop a cliff overlooking the familiar sight of Gerudo Desert. The harsh winds carried the searing sand during the day, and a freezing chill at night, but now it was sunset, the rare moment the winds carried peace and comfort instead of the promise of death to the unprepared. The cool air was especially nice for you too as you wore only light clothing. It was clearly Gerudo clothing but not like any you had seen before. It was more ornamental, dyed in a rich wine red and jade green, and you wore various golden jewelry, most notably an ornate gold choker and topaz earrings. You took a deep breath, enjoying how the wind seemed to embrace you.

Again, you felt like a passenger in this dream, but unlike the previous dreams where it felt like you were in someone else’s skin, this felt oddly right. Even the memories of this life melding in your head felt comfortable and not unnatural like before.

Were you finally dreaming of a past you? If there were other Links and Zeldas and Ganondorf, was it crazy to think there may have been another you as well?

On your wrist was one thing that didn’t fit with the rest of your ensemble: a simple bracelet with a leather strap and wooden beads. Taking a look around to make sure you were alone, you untied the bracelet and turned the beads, revealing carefully carved holes. You blew into it, playing a song that echoed around the cliffs.

A cry answered back as a hawk dove and landed on your arm. It preened and clicked its beak. “Yes, I know, you’ll have your treat,” you laughed. You fed it a chunk of meat. While it happily tore into the treat, you untied the note on its leg. To the untrained eye, it was blank. You held it up to the sun and the words came through. The characters were familiar to you – Zonai writing. While you were not versed in the language like Zelda, your dream self understood it perfectly. It read as follows:

My friend,

The great serpent cries,

They miss their child of storms,

But they know your goal.

All wish for your safe return,

Have courage my friend.

There was no signature, just a crude drawing of a triangle.

You had already prepared a response.

Dear friend,

I have arrived safe,

The sands have untold beauty.

You need not worry,

For I shall be protected

As his great treasure.

Your note was signed with the symbol of an eye. You tied it securely to the hawk’s leg, making sure not to tie it too tight. “Please take this back,” you said, stroking the fine feathers of your avian friend. Giving him a gentle upward toss, he took flight and soared on the desert updrafts, circling higher and higher before veering eastward.

You sighed, somewhat wishing to be elsewhere, but you looked out at the desert again, admiring the view of the sun setting over the sands. Gerudo Town stood out among it, much larger than in the current day. A beautiful pyramid stood above the sands not far beyond it, a sort of holy palace.

You slipped the note into a small pocket on the sash across your chest. For a while you absently played with the jewelry on your neck. The gold choker was intricately carved and clearly priceless, but it felt a little uncomfortable.

You then sensed someone approaching behind you – someone quite large by the footsteps. You adjusted your clothes and made sure you looked presentable.

“Ah, is this where my little blossom has been hiding?”

The dream you may have smiled, but the real you felt your heart drop. The voice was too familiar; after all, you had heard it for weeks. The dream you turned towards the voice, looking up into the face of the Gerudo King – or as he was known in your time, Ganondorf the Demon King.

“Your majesty,” you said with a sweeping bow.

“You just like to tease me, don’t you?”

“Someone has to be brave enough to.”

The massive man laughed, and you were surprised how genuine it seemed on his face. Part of you had to admit, when he wasn’t being absolutely terrifying, he was rather attractive. He easily picked you up in a bridal carry. “Come now, let’s go home. It will be cold soon.” He held you close to his chest; you could feel his heartbeat quicken.

“Lord Ganondorf, won’t people ask questions if you’re carrying a servant like this? You’ve already adorned me with more jewelry than even your closest allies – people may start to ask questions.”

“A king does not concern himself with the opinions of those who do not matter. And those who do, wouldn’t dare to even question it. You’ll learn soon enough, my little blossom, the only thing that matters in this world is power – and you have the most powerful man in the world as your king. Follow me, and you will want for nothing.”

Internally you felt sick. You weren’t sure what this dream meant, but you could even feel a strange twist in your dream self’s stomach.

[jiliansky-blog]

Wake me up. Chapter 5. Who are you?

Pairing: Morpheus x FemaleReader

Rating: PG

Words: 1650

When I made the spell of ice undone, I understood that this witch and the girl were long gone. This was a turn of events that I didn’t expect. This Nightmare will pay for her attack. She dares to attack her own king. Or her dreams and nightmares don’t know who their king is, and she doesn't even know her master. They can be quite dangerous as Corinthians.

And I should find Y\N and that witch before she can do something else.

“Matthew?” you called, his raven.

“Are you alright, boss?” the raven immediately replied to me.

“Yes”, I nodded. “Did you see where they go?”

“To the castle”, he replied. “I don’t think this witch will be kind to Y\N. Are you going to help her?”

For a few moments, I have a desire to leave the girl fight her own demons because of her disobedience. But then I remembered that I had promised to help her. So I can’t leave her. I took a deep breath to calm down.

“Yes, I should”, I said. And then I will wake her up.

“She won’t get into trouble, will she?” he asked.

”I don’t know what you mean”, I replied

“I mean, it wasn’t her fault”, he said.

“It was”, I denied. “She brought us here and made this witch angry. Now I need to come to her rescue”.

“But you love to be a hero”, he admitted.

“What?” I looked at him.

“Lucienne told me..." He wasn’t glad that he said that.

“You shouldn’t talk about me with Lucienne”, I said coldly. “I can turn you into something else. Or take away your voice”.

“We didn’t talk much”, he replied quietly.

“We should go”, I took my sand and appeared near the big palace of ice. It’s time for a witch to know her place.

You were frozen, even in the warm coat of Morpheus. You have already started to miss this grumpy god. He is better than the White witch.

“Are you alone, daughter of Eve?” she asked coldly.

“Yes”, you whispered.

“You’re lying”, she said, hitting me on the cheek. “I know that you are not alone. Tell me, where are all the others?”

“I don’t know what you are talking about”, you said. “My death won’t let you win. And Morpheus will come for me, you will see”.

“Perhaps, but I will see what I can get of you”, she smiled dangerously. “Take her to prison. Perhaps, that will help to talk”.

You tried to resist the dwarf that follows Jadice, but he had a dagger. And can hurt you anytime. And you didn’t plan to die in this world.

“Our queen will make you talk”, he hissed, but he doesn’t look dangerous, except for his dagger. He looked like an angry Christmas dwarf.

“You are a fool”, you said. “You serve the queen, who can kill you if you stop being useful. Do you have any dignity?”

“Shut up!” he shouted at you, but you saw that he looked confused. Then he quickly went away before you could shake his confidence.

“You are the brave one”, you heard the voice and saw the faun.

“You are, Mr. Tumnus," you said. “If you are already here, then you met Lucy”.

“Yes”, he said, looking surprised. “And you are... are you Lucy’s sister?”

“No”, you sighed. “I just appeared in the wrong place at the wrong time. But she thinks that I can be Lucy’s sister”.

“That’s understandable," he said, too. “There weren’t other people in Narnia. Except for Lucy. And now she is in danger”.

“And her family too”, you said.

“Oh”, he said.

Soon the dwarf brought Edmund to our cell. The boy was cute. And he was surprised to see another girl here.

"How did you get here?” he said. “You are... from London?”

“Not quiet”, you said. “But I am a human, yes”.

When you decided to take destiny into your own hands and try to escape. The door suddenly opened, and Morpheus entered the room. He was very angry.

“Morpheus!” you said gladly. “You came!”

“We will talk about it lately," he said coldly. “Now we should go”.

“We should release them," you said. “And what about the witch?”

“We will find her, and I will make her pay for what she tried to do with me”, he said.

“And what about changing the story?” you smiled.

“You are already doing this”, he admitted, looking at Edmund. “So you can release them and take them with us”.

“Good”, you smiled.

“We still need to talk after this”, he said, and your blood runs cold. “You should keep to our agreement. I will wake you up”.

“No, please”, you asked. “Not yet”.

“You got us in trouble”, he hissed.

“And the agreement was about the endangerment of your world”, you remind him.

“You endangered it”, he said. “What would happen if I couldn't break her spell?”

“Morpheus, it’s your world”, you smiled. “As you tell me all the time. No one here can do you too much damage”.

“She turned me into the ice sculpture," he insisted.

“And you are here”, you said. “In an hour or so”.

He looked at you for a minute, like he couldn’t decide whether he wanted to kill you or to agree with you. Then he sighed with exhaustion and rubbed his nose.

“And I’m sorry”, you said. You didn’t want to argue with him anymore. He came here after all. “I didn’t know this would happen”.

“We should go”, he looked at you with suspicious. And then he freed Faun and Edmund. We were a little bit confused by your conversation.

Morpheus doesn’t talk to you. He was angry. But then he took your hand, and you thought that he would wake you up.

“What are you going to do?” you asked.

“We will go where the witch is”, he said.

“We need to bring Edmund to his family”, you said. “They won’t survive. They are too weak”.

“I’m not a teleport for you”, he said.

“Just one time, please?” you asked. "To Aslan’s camp. And then we return here to face a very surprised witch”.

“Very well”, he said. “Get them”.

You could reassure Edmund and Tumnus to trust you, and all of you would go to the camp. The spring has already come to Narnia too.

Morpheus came to talk to Aslan. And it was a strange feeling again. There are two gods in one world. Or dream? You were too deep in your thoughts and didn’t hear how someone approached you.

“Thank you for saving my brother and my friend”, said a girl. It was Lucy and you smiled at her. “It was very brave”.

“You’re welcome”, you smiled. “But I suppose now the course of your adventure will take another turn”.

“I don’t know what you are talking about”, she said. “But I didn’t know that another human girl appears in Narnia”.

“I didn’t expect it too”, you smiled.

“Who is talking to Aslan?” she asked.

“Em, my friend”, you replied. “His name is Morpheus. He is quite angry now and wants to revenge White witch”.

“It will save us a battle”, she smiled but sadly.

You understand that if you defeat Jadice, then they won’t grow through battle. Maybe it wasn’t such a good idea. You need to talk to Morpheus.

Finally, he showed up from the tent. Both, Morpheus and Aslan approached you. Aslan looked at you like he also knows something that you don’t.

“You need to remember everything, child, if you want to heal and return home”, he said suddenly. “It’s not your time to stay here”.

“I don’t want home”, you sighed.

"Eventually, you will return," he replied, going to Pevensie’s.

You looked at Morpheus, waiting for his comment. But he pouts and isn't definitely in a good mood.

“What were you talking about?” you asked.

“He said that I shouldn’t take revenge on her”, he replied. “She will be eventually punished”.

“Oh”, you said. “I want to tell you about it too. It can definitely change the story”.

“So, are we finished?” he asked, looking at me.

“Not yet”, you smiled. “Did you notice that we visit only the beginning of stories? We should continue them”.

“I should know”, he sighed.

“Listen”, you sighed too. “You shouldn’t follow me. It’s my journey, and I will try my best not to do harm to your world”.

“No, I can’t let you get yourself in trouble again," he said.

“Let’s go with them for now”, you smiled. “We deserved a little rest”.

Morpheus

I didn’t even know why I listened to her, when she said not to wake her up. And I don’t know why I agreed to follow her to the camp. Death would find my situation very amusing. And then I caught myself in the thought. I didn’t recall my imprisonment. Or my other problems. Perhaps, Lucienne was right to send me here. Perhaps.

“Are you alright?” Y\N asked and gave me some fruits.

“I don’t need food”, I replied.

“It doesn’t mean that you can’t enjoy it”, you said, smiling. “And you didn’t answer my questions. You looked lost in thoughts”.

“Why I shouldn’t be fine?” I replied.

“You didn’t use to nightmares, who attacks you”, she admitted. “Don’t worry; I’m sure that won’t happen again”.

“I’m not so sure”, I said. “You created these nightmares and dreams, and they don’t even listen to you. They are uncontrollable”.

“I don’t understand”, she looked sincerely confused.

“They should know that they can’t treat you like this”, he said. “Or they will destroy you. You shouldn’t have this power at all”.

“You care about me”, was her ridiculous answer.

“I care about my world”, he said. “If you do whatever you want here, I don’t know what it will cause”.

“What do you want me to do?” she sighed.

“Take a control of your doings”, I replied. “Or both of us will be in danger”.

@shadowqueen1318 @mypsychoticlove @justathirstyhoe​ @ladymoztaza @sapphireonline @deniixlovezelda

[themculibrary]

College/University Roommates Masterlist

a home for two (ao3) - watsonmj (divineauthor) mj/peter T, 3k

Summary: MJ can’t count how many times Peter has shown up in her dorm.

Peter and MJ become unintentional roommates. They’re also incredibly in love with each other.

A Little Larceny (ao3) - checkmate bucky/tony T, 5k

Summary: Bucky has a bit of a thing for his roommate, but Tony is far too busy setting him up on blind dates with other people to notice.

California king (ao3) - withered bucky/tony T, 1k

Summary: Bucky should be used to Tony ending up in his bed.

cross your heart (ao3) - softnslow mj/peter, ned/betty T, 6k

Summary: God, he's so pretty.

His eyes dart from the textbook to his journal, and his head is lowered so a brown curl droops down from his forehead. His dorky T-shirt is hiked up slightly so it reveals- his stupid perfect six-pack, damn. 

The soft glow of the lamp outlines his sharp, perfect jawline to his pretty boy features.

MJ looks back down, biting the inside of her cheek.

She's crushing so hard on Peter. A nerd. A dork. A really hot, cute, awkward, pretty guy. 

--

or, a sweet roommates au featuring babysitting morgan stark, snowball fights, and study sessions.

Death and the PhD (ao3) - buckybarnesdeservestobehappy (hutchabelle) steve/bucky T, 3k

Summary: PhD student Bucky Barnes loves his research on Thanatos, the Greek god of non-violent death. So wrapped up in his studies that he doesn’t realize someone’s stalking him and his roommate Steve who’s come to mean more to Bucky than only someone who resides in his apartment, he’s forced to find the courage to resist when he comes face-to-face with his stalker.

Education is the key (ao3) - SrebrnaFH G, 1k

Summary: Steve Rogers is rescued from the ice earlier than in the MCU timeline and Army decides he needs to complete his education.

Howard Stark suggests MIT. Guess who is going to be Steve's roommate... Or roommates.

for all of the perfect things that i doubt (ao3) - spoondrifts loki/mobius, valkryie/ravonna T, 6k

Summary: Mobius M. Mobius, age twenty-three, philosophy major, isn't sure what to make of his new roommate. Especially considering that it's three months into the semester and he hasn't even seen the guy yet.

Home (ao3) - Pandagirl86 tony/bruce T, 4k

Summary: It's been a long time since Tony's felt at home.

In This Together (ao3) - i_buchanan bruce/tony E, 62k

Summary: Bruce was pretty sure that he was going to be the youngest person at MIT. He didn't realize that honor actually went to his roommate, the already-infamous Tony Stark. Granted, the child prodigy turns out to be nothing like he expects, for better or worse, and Bruce figures that they just have to make it work. Besides, it should only be for one semester, right?

Or, the fic where they live together, move out together, and eventually get together.

Let Me Love You (ao3) - inclinedtoarson mj/peter M, 3k

Summary: Peter is Michelle's best friend, and Michelle is his. He is always there for her on her worst days, and now that they're roommates she's spent a lot of nights confiding the deepest parts of herself with him. There's no one she trusts more in the world, no one who knows her better. So when her boyfriend just up and leaves, MJ is glad Peter is there to tell her she's beautiful and valuable and that he's there for her. He'll always be there.

Marvel Collegiate University (ao3) - Ultra bucky/natasha, pepper/tony, steve/peggy T, 48k

Summary: What if all the Avengers were ordinary human beings who just attended college together?

Oh where do we begin (ao3) - steveandbucky steve/buckt M, 24k

Summary: Halfway through his third year of college, Steve Rogers rents out the spare room in his apartment to make living close to campus more affordable. At first sight his new roommate, Bucky Barnes, seems to be the stuff dreams are made of, but living together turns out to be a nightmare, and the academic year is a lot more adventurous than either of them expected, as they slowly turn from enemies to friends to lovers.

Painterly (ao3) - avintagekiss24 steve/bucky E, 8k

Summary: Steve's entire semester hinges on the art project that Bucky just kinda, sorta put a hole in.

save, saving, saved (ao3) - firebrands steve/tony G, 1k

Summary: simple joys, or: tony exhausting himself trying to help literally everyone and steve tutting and making him noodles

Smart Enough (ao3) - AuroraWest loki/stephen T, 3k

Summary: Loki has never been smart enough to keep his mouth shut around people who don't like him. When he gets beat up by the university rowing team (seriously?), his roommate insists on helping with the injuries.

At least Loki is smart enough not to fall for his roommate, despite Stephen's crooked smile and floppy hair. Right?

some days i'm lonely (and some days i'm not) (ao3) - wittepain peter/harley T, 77k

Summary: Harley turns eighteen in a day, graduates in two weeks, and despite all of the questions now being thrown at his head, he has absolutely no direction in life.

-

or, it takes leaving everything he's ever known for harley keener to finally learn how to love and be loved.

Surprise! (ao3) - Ray_Day peter/harley T, 2k

Summary: Harley and Peter are dating and are roommates in college. Neither of them knows that they know Tony Stark (Though on Harley's end, he just doesn't connect the dots).

So when Tony shows up for a surprise lecture for their shared class, neither of them know what to do.

The Loveliness of Loving You (ao3) - ElisabethMonroe sam/bucky E, 4k

Summary: Staring SamBucky, featuring: Valentine's Day ✔️ Baking Cookies ✔️ Lingerie ✔️ Mutual Pining By Friends With Benefits ✔️ And They Were Roommates ✔️

The One With The Haus Party (ao3) - neversaydie steve/bucky, natasha/sam, past steve/tony, bucky/pietro M, 8k

Summary: Sam ends up giving Mr Five-Feet-Five of Cock-Deprived Fury a piggyback home, mainly because he's too drunk to protest being carried and Sam would like to get home before the sun comes up this time.

"I hate Bucky." He's been grumbling about Barnes for the entire walk. There's a thin line between love and hate, Sam supposes, and apparently that line is someone else's dick in Bucky's mouth. "Fucking… gonna call him Fucky from now on."

"He'll like that." Sam points out, shifting Steve's weight to get the bony knees out of his ribs. He'd better get some good karma for this shit, he wishes he didn't have such a strong conscience that he can't knowingly let this guy sleep on a sticky frat house floor for the night. He's way nicer than his messy friends deserve.

"Gonna call him fuckface then. Fuckface fucking Barnes. Sucking all the dicks. S'not fair, where's the dicks left for everyone else?!"

[the gang go to a house party at a hockey frat, mistaken identities and inadvisable drunken behaviour abound, and Steve is a Hot Mess]

The Rift (ao3) - seapigeon steve/bucky M, 53k

Summary: Steve Rogers is used to things going wrong. He's had poor health and bad luck his entire life. He's not really sure why he thought witchcraft would be any different. Maybe because he didn't believe it was real...?

Turns out, it's all kinds of real, and now he has a ghost in the attic, a mystery to solve, and a huge crush on his roommate.

[anfie-in-the-box]

Fluffynightkiller Week

Notes

I am late, but not quite? This was written before the fifth day of the challenge, but I felt insecure about this piece so I didn't post it. It's My Hero Academia x UTMV crossover where Ccino works for Dream in a cafe right in front of the greatest hero school in the world, and Dream's twin Night is Ccino's significant other and also a villain Nightmare visits the cafe regularly. Only this time is special — Night is also in love with one of his villain subordinates, Killer, and it's the day Night's two lovers meet each other. Killer — or, rather, Target, specifically when he's around civilians, like Nightmare and Night, — so, Killer is interested in the coffee boy his boss is so fond of, but Ccino... Oh, would you look at that. Ccino finds himself mesmerised to the point when usual shyness leaves him.

Also, for those who are not familiar with MHA, it's a world where almost everyone has a Quirk — a special ability from making your eyes change colour to super strength to, well, those I saw fit for the characters of this piece.

。。。

Day 5: Red

Ccino is, by all means, a background character. His Quirk is nothing special — an oddly specific passive ability to measure drinkable liquids exactly like another person wants their beverage to be. That's why he works at a cafe — a normal job, as plain as he is. What's unusual about it is that the said cafe is the nearest to the UTMV — the best hero university in the world. Their guests are both teachers — real Pro Heroes — and stidents, the future of their world. It's such an honor to serve them, and Ccino is forever grateful to Dream for hiring him straight after graduation. The place has become his second home.

Ccino's first home has always been by Night's side. They grew up in the same orphanage — Dream, his brother Night, and Ccino, a couple of years younger than the twins. And if Dream was a star — no, the sun — everyone loved and praised him and his Positive Aura, a perfect Quirk for heroics, — then Night with his Negative Aura was an eclipse, leaving everyone uneasy and volatile. And then there was Ccino, suffering from depression in his young age and being blamed and gaslighted by everyone. He barely felt the effect of the Positive Aura and found sanctuary and validation in the Negative Aura. Then, when they were all teenagers, Ccino realised he's long since fallen in love with Night. And there was no way he'd stay quiet.

So he confessed. He still remembers how soft Night's features and voice got in response. Ccino was blessed to see a rare genuine smile, too. Night warned Ccino their relationship won't be easy, hinted at his plans after he leaves the orphanage, but Ccino wasn't afraid.

That was before.

Now, he's washing the tables after a busy day. When the bells chime, he smiles widely and turns around, expecting to see Night — for the first time not alone but with someone special.

They talked about it a lot during the last month. When Night admitted he also loves another person, Ccino was ready to let him go. Only it wasn't what Night wanted — he loves them both and doesn't want to lose either of them. Could Ccino do this? Share his beloved with someone else? Of course he could, the answer was. He already did. Night used every opportunity to see Ccino, but still was a busy monster. Nightmare, the most nefarious Villain in the world, and his group of misfits.

And today Ccino is meeting one of his subordinates, the one who cought not only attention but also affection of the King of Negativity. Must be someone truly special.

Not that Ccino is special himself. He's just lucky he and Night are childhood sweethearts who never grew apart...

Ccino takes a step forward to hug Night and greet his another love. Only words fail him — he lowers his gaze to the brightest part of the two, a red heart-shaped soul, glowing and swirling gently. He can't look away.

Night chuckles fondly, "Enthralling, isn't he?"

Of course he notices where Ccino's gaze is attracted.

Ccino blushes and tries to pull himself together, barely managing to squeak, "Anything to drink?"

"We both know you already know," Night teases.

"Yeah, right... I'll just, uh, go. Give me a minute."

。。。

Ccino might just have a problem. That problem is not two Villains in elegant costumes sitting near the window of the cafe, chatting — although it looks like Killer talks and Night listens. Also, yeah, he knows who Killer is, even with his soul stable and heart-shaped. He watches the news from time to time. There are lots of soul conditions and mutations in the world of Quirks, so no one pays much attention if any at all. And so Killer is unrecognisable to the public. Just get civilian clothes and control determination and hate leaking from his sockets.

Anyway. The problem is that Ccino can't tear his eye-lights away from Killer's soul. He can't help it, weak before its beauty and captivation. He's just like that with Night, and Night knows it.

Ccino really, really wants to touch Killer's red and white soul. For moment, it's all he sees — and he knows Night knows, the empath that he is.

Ccino is sure to make a fool of himself at least once.

"Here's your coffee, and your tea. I hope you like it." Ccino says awkwardly but serving the cups masterfully.

Then he sits down in front of Night and Killer. And it's so... they're both so...

It's rude to stare, but Ccino's already gone. He's warm all over, and his hands itch to touch, to caress.

Killer gives him a charming smile. Night watches them fondly and finally says, "Ccino, this is Killer. Please call him Target whenever he's in civilian clothes. Killer, this is Ccino."

"Would you look at that, the legendary coffee boy is right in front of me, and what a sight!" Killer — Target?.. — sips his coffee and grins slyly, "It's actually perfect! How about I give you something in return?"

Flustered, Ccino lowers his gaze, but mumbles, "Could I someday touch your soul?.."

Target's grin widens. "...Well, I did not expect that, but you know what? Sure, do it!"

Just like that?!

But Ccino really, really wants to... The red glow lures him closer, makes him forget all rules and limitations. He side-eyes Night — touching someone's soul is so very intimate, after all. But Night nods in Target's direction and smiles softly. So Ccino, supported by them both, lets himself give in to the magnetic desire to touch.

He does, leaning forward over the table and finally touching the heart-shaped target. It's exhilarating in an absolutely different way from Night, and yet so very pleasant. Red glow grows brighter, warming Ccino's own soul. Does Target trust him that much already?..

。。。

The three of them talk a lot, mostly Target and Ccino who need to get to know each other better. Or maybe don't need, exactly, but definitely want to.

Night hugs Ccino and kisses him goodbye, and then Target demands a kiss as well, and looking at them doesn't feel like betrayal or jealousy.

It feels like home.

。。。

Credits

Ccino © black-nyanko

Nightmare © jokublog

Killer © rahafwabas

Fluffynightkiller Week © @help-im-a-gay-fish

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Notes

I'm still not satisfied with this, but hopefully someone else will be. I'd also really appreciate feedback, both from people familiar and unfamiliar with My Hero Academia.

Anyway, thanks for reading, and take care 🌻