#dream of the endless imagines

[writethrough]

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

Mid-Afternoon Dream

(Morpheus x Gender-Neutral Reader)

Synopsis: Morpheus enjoys his moment of peace with you.

Warnings: None

Word Count: 430

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

“My heart.” 

Tags: @sayumiht, @hatterripper31, @snowsatsu, @1950schick, @navs-bhat, @bookshelf-dust, @sapphireonline, @fictional-hooman, @steph-speaks, @ladyredstar1991, @secretdreamlandmentality, @ababycake, @morpheuss1mp, @boofy1998, @alice-the-nerd, @herfantasyworldd, @poemfreak306, @tronnily, @commanderfreethatdust

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

[gay-dorito-dust]

Some touch starved morpheus stuff cuz we all know he is and since he can’t ask for shit he’s gonna revert to cat form to get what he wants.

Morpheus is incredibly touch starved, this is what many would call an undisputed fact. He’s an endless and therefore means that there has never been a moment in his life where he was ever blessed with the sweet embrace of a tender, loving hug nor the comforting squeeze when holding another’s hand.

Needless to say that he was perplexed when he found himself wandering within the depths of his mind, craving in silence of its feel within your arms. Did you run cold? or did you run warm? Would you allow him to rest his weary head against the comforting counsel of your heart? Or would you prefer to rest yours upon his instead? Were you the type to snuggle closely so that every part of your body was pressed flushed against his own and yet crave to be even closer? Head pressed into the crevice of his neck, pressing featherlight kisses there on occasion to remind him of your presence.

Were you what humans called a big spoon or a little spoon? How that was related to cuddling morpheus had no clue and sometimes questioned humans for their…interesting choice of words for specific actions. They were…peculiar to say the least. Did you wish to be held or wish to hold him as you both laid comfortably beneath a cosy blanket as you fought against the weight of sleep weighing upon your eyelids gradually overtime, easing you into a vulnerable state of slumber.

These thoughts clouded the dream lords mind as he went about his tasks as king, disrupting him from his work that he would often remember old romance books he’s read during the height of their publication and replace the protagonist and their love interest with you and him without realising it until caught on the receiving end of an concern Lucienne’s gaze.

“My lord, are you alright?” She’d ask and each and every time was greeted with similar responses. “I’m quite alright, the state of my health isn’t of concern to anyone then myself.” Afterwards came Lucienne’s unconvinced stare but she knew firsthand how unbearably stubborn Morpheus is and decided that since he was a fully grown man capable of dealing with his own issues, it would be best if she left him to it and concentrate on her own pile of work to complete. Morpheus was incapable of asking for help or advice for the matter unless he was physically brought down to his knees due to his insufferable pride.

That pride had proven to be a hindrance on multiple occasions and that was no different when the lord of dreams and nightmares tried to muster up the courage in asking you for affection he desperately craved. Yet he’d always seem to backpedal from actually asking and instead waited for the moments where you were least aware of his motives that he thought were increasingly childish of a being such as himself.

Things such as holding your hand whenever crossing passable riverbanks, streams and small shallow lakes by broken bridges he had yet to repair sooner or later if you weren’t already invading every possible space within his heart, soul and mind at every given moment. Keeping his hand at the small of your back when walking through crowed spaces under the pretence that he didn’t wish for you to be swept away from his line of sight. To even his shoulder pressing against your own ever so briefly as you walked through the vast gardens of his palace together.

‘Innocent coincidence’ was what they were called but to you it sounded oddly as though he was covering something up you have yet to brush off the vail of mystery of. So one day as you sat beneath the shade of the palace, eyes just about ready to flutter to a close when a sound caught your ears, causing you to peel open your eyes wide enough to see what you presumed to be a cat like figure sat in front of you.

You’d say cat but this cat was bigger then any cat you’ve ever seen, the closest you could compare it to size wise was that of a main coon but even then that didn’t seem quite right. It’s fur dark was as midnight, it’s eyes glowed within the shade; giving it a more supernatural and or ethereal ambiance about the creature of unknown origin because as far as you were aware morpheus didn’t keep cats about the palace.

However your mind was too foggy to make sense of how the cat got here nor where it came from as you immediately drew the creature into your lap, not questioning how almost eagerly the cat seemed to respond to your actions and bundled itself against your chest, purring contently, as it’s eyes slide to a close and you swore that you could see it smile.

Again you were on the verge of sleep so it was hard to make out what exactly you were seeing constitutes as reality. Instead wishing to get straight to dreaming, unaware that you were holding the lord of dreams within your lap the entire time.

Taglist: @mess-in-side @mm2305 @blossomedfloweroflove @dinonuggett @murnsondock

[callmemaeverick]

A Little Thing Called Love  [Dream of the Endless x Reader]

OR 3 times Dream took care of You. And 1 time you took care of him

A/N: Comments are appreciated :)

Words: 2.1k TW: angst, a minor injury, and an implication of the murder of animals. 

This thing you have with Dream is something you never would have imagined of having. He was Endless and you were just a mere mortal (or are you?). How it came to be is something you had deemed too complicated to understand. Just that you were grateful it did.

Dream was intrigued by you just as you were of him and after spending a lot of time with each other, you became... close. Which is weird considering you were total opposites.

While he is the personification of the rain cloud emoji, you had the disposition of the sun, always smiling and laughing. While he is aloof and stoic, you wear your emotions on your sleeves. While he is graceful and regal, you were as clumsy as a newborn giraffe.

1.

"Shit!" You gasped as you dropped the roll of tinfoil over your counter. The soft clattering of razor-thin sheet metal rang loud within your apartment as you ignored it in favor of inspecting your finger. Slowly but surely, blood began to seep from the tiny cut.

A caw from outside pulled your attention and your face fell. "No,no, no, Matthew!" But it was too late. The bird had seen you and your accident, and flew away. You cursed, counting the seconds until...

The sound of shifting sands filled the room, but they never left a mess. You used to think that Morpheus trails sand wherever he goes, but that was not the case. Before your eyes, the particles swirled around his legs and vanished from sight, back to the Dreaming.

You barely jumped as a pair of hands engulfed yours, quite literally appearing out of thin air. You were used to it already with how often you got into an accident.

"I'm fine, you know." You sighed as you watched him inspect your hand. A drop of blood had trickled down your finger.

"It's deep." He retorted, taking it upon himself to drag you to the sink and put your hand under the stream of clean water. Then, he placed a clean cloth over your hand, pressing gently.

Hissing at the sting, you inadvertently jerked your hand back. Bang! Your elbow hit the wall behind you, sending uncomfortable shocks travelling up your arm.

Dream gave you a look as you winced. Shaking his head, he reached around you to rub your offended joint. "You... are a hazard." He said, inoffensive.

"To myself or others?"

The smile that tugged his lips was imperceptible to those who did not know to look for it.

"To me."

2.

It was one of those days, days when the every errant sound, every unfamiliar voice of the people around you grated on your nerves. When every brush of coats and bags and shoulders on the bus almost made you scream. When everything just did not go well, no matter what you did.

You shivered against the soft breeze, closing your eyes as you let the chill sweep over you, brushing your hair back. A cup of chamomile-infused tea in hand, you inhaled as deep as you could, taking in the subtle scent of the flower, the only smell you could tolerate. You knew it wouldn't help, as it didn't for the last few days, but you still hoped it will help you sleep better that night.

The events of the day, the week, rush through your head. Your pending projects, stacked and overlapping each other seemed infinite as you tried to list down your tasks, trying to gauge their priorities. Your phone had been lighting up where you had left it on your coffee table, your work groupchat never ceasing to take in more and more and more work-related messages, every single one of them vying for your attention, your opinion, your decision.

But despite the infinite things you need to do, your body just would not move from the roof you had found yourself on. You had no energy, no inspiration, no will. Your breath rattled past your lips. Even breathing was a chore.

He was utterly silent when he appeared, the only indication was the brush of his coat sleeves against your back as he crossed to your side. For some reason, the touch did not upset you as many others did that day. Perhaps you were coming down from your overstimulation. Perhaps it was just him. Still, you closed your eyes as you let yourself be vulnerable, willingly letting him into your personal space. His was the company you needed. His was the presence that pushed back all thoughts of overwhelming worldly responsibilities until only his calm otherworldliness remained.

Slowly, tentatively, you leaned ever so slightly until the firm line of his arm touched yours and you sighed. You were not one to normally initiate physical contact, something that was ingrained deep in your DNA due to being alone most of your life. But you crave it. God, do you crave it. And Dream, who to most looked distant and unapproachable, did not move. And for that you were grateful.

He did not need to say anything. He simply needed to be there.

3.

The call of your name sounded like a murmur from his lips and you clawed your way back to dreary consciousness. Your body was wound tight, your arms hugging yourself and you knees close to your chest. Lifting your head felt like lifting a truck, but you pushed through to try and find him.

When you did, you cracked a small smile. No matter how painful moving was, you’d always has a smile ready for him.

“Heyyyyy, Dreamboat,” The medication you took had dissolved your brain-to-mouth filter. Even sick, you couldn’t resist teasing him.

If Morpheus was irked by the nickname, he did not show it. Instead, he slowly dropped to a knee beside the couch you’ve perched yourself on.

“You have not been to the Dreaming.” The tone he used was one you rarely hear, one of concern. From others, you might have heard it as a question, but not from Dream. His was a statement, a fact.

It started with a small headache, one that bloomed behind your right eye a few hours after being caught in the rain. You did your best to prevent it, immediately taking a shower to wash off all the toxicity that accumulated in those clouds before it rained down on you. But alas, after a solid 1 year with no sick days, the universe deemed it high time to strike you with a fever.

With the illness came the lack of an appetite, the constant discomfort of your limbs, the shakes. And then, worst of all, the disturbed sleep.

“It’s hard to dream when you can’t sleep properly.” You rasped.

For the last 3 days, you had spent your time more or less horizontal but you were never asleep for more that 2 hours at a time. Your head pounded, your throat parched, your body weak and all these issues kept pulling you from a well-rested sleep.

“Everything’s so uncomfortable.” Shifting on the couch, you groaned, eyes fluttering close. You’ve managed to drag yourself from your bedroom to the living room a few hours ago, wanting a change of scenery, but your spine was not going to forgive you anytime soon. 

You felt the soft strands of your bangs move across your forehead. When you opened your eyes, you see Morpheus with his hand extended to your face. His eyes were unreadable, but steady on yours.

“I can help with that.”

Boldly, you turned your face towards his hand, seeking his touch. One of the best things about Dream was that he was cool to the touch, cool as the night air. You sighed against his pulse point and you could swear you felt it jump. Or maybe that was just your drug-addled mind. Endless do not have hearts, do they?

“Okay.”

You felt his fingers disappear only to feel him slide his arms under your body and lift. Cradled against his cool chest, you couldn’t help but whimper, seeking that sweet sweet reprieve. It was a short walk to your bedroom and too soon, you were back in your bed.

You had half a mind to ask him to stay, to slide into bed with you. But you won’t.

Covers were pulled to your chest, but not your neck. Your body heat would make that too stifling. You cracked an eye open as you watched Dream pull his pouch from his pocket. You inhaled in anticipation.

“Take care of my dreams, would you? I tend to have nightmares when I’m sick.”

He kneeled once more beside you and opened his hand, palms up. The sand in his clutches glittered like gold against the moonlight. You heard him blow them over your eyes and right before you fall into blissful darkness, you heard his voice.

“Always.”

+1

He did not show it. Perhaps he did not even know what to show, or how to show it, but you knew. You knew deep deep down he was still hurt.

You’ve been coming to the Dreaming for years now, ever since you appeared in the Library that fateful day.

Since then, you’ve watched him run the realm with the power and responsibility of the monarch that he is. You’ve watched him look after the dreams of others, weave comforts and sow inspiration into the collective unconscious of the entire universe. It was enough to make you fall in love with him.

But at the same time, you’ve also had to witness him send nightmares, terrible and gruesome, to the sleeping minds of innocents, of young children. You heard them scream and cry as they faced his machinations, often derived from their own memories and overactive imaginations. You had to keep telling yourself that the nightmares were there for a reason, so that they may face them, so that they may overcome them.

Unlike you, however, Dream doesn’t let it affect him, the struggle of it all. He pushes them down, deep down into himself, locked and chained and hidden from the rest of the universe. He does so because if he loses control, the effects are unthinkable. And thankfully, he’s managed it without fail. Most of the time…

The nightmare was about a boy with the love of birds. And a father with a love of hunting.

The bang of the shotgun still echoed in your ears as you made your way towards him.

Dream stood at the end of the pier, the black waters that surrounded him pitch black against the aurora-filled sky above. He didn't acknowledge you as came up, but you knew he was aware of your presence.

The images in the water drew your attention and your heart clenched at the sight of the beautiful young woman, twirling around in a field of green, dancing and smiling with a group of children. You didn't know much about her, but from the tales and snippets of information you've gotten from Merv and Lucienne, you knew you were looking at Jessamy, when she was still human.

You knew she was Morpheus's raven for a long, long time and her death came much too soon and too tragically. You also knew that from the moment he escaped, Dream hadn't had the chance to properly grieve his closest companion.

Clutching the item in your hand, you finally gathered enough courage to sidle in close beside the Lord of Dreams. The moment he felt you curl your arm around his waist, it was as if some of the tension melted from his limbs and Morpheus sighed, pulling you close to him. You smiled, leaning your head on his shoulder.

The both of you stood side by side in silence for a while.

"What have you got in your hand?" His voice was smooth as it washed over you.

You showed him the small floating lantern you had Merv help you craft. "I know it's not much. But I think she deserved a proper send off, don't you?"

His reply came in the form of the subtle press of cool lips against your hairline. Within that gesture, you could feel the enormity of his gratitude and love for you. You grinned softly and looked up at him.

“Do you want to-“ You presented the small lantern and with a gaze from him, the small candle inside lit up magically.

Dream maneuvered you to his front and held your hands in his. Over your shoulder, he met your eyes.

“Together.”

And together, the both of you let the lantern slowly lift from your hands and watched as it drifted further and further and further until it was nothing but a bright little dot in the sky, joining the billions of stars that decorated the infinite cosmos.

Fin

[writing-fanics]

[ somwhere to go home to] Morpheus x Reader

[warning: angst: fluff future part]

[terms used sleigh beggy someone whos blood attracts those that of magical creatures term from Ancient Magus Bride]

[y/n] followed the man as they walked towards the auctioning room. staring at the plethora of caged and chained magic creatures, that only a child would imagine or believe in. the cold chain wrapped around their neck, and wrapped around their wrists into handcuffs.

they wanted to be here. they had no choice they had no life outside anymore. no family, no friends, nothing to call home. they wanted somewhere to go home to. they hated themselves for being such a burden for others to bear, to deal with them being a sleigh beggy.

not with the constant amalgamations appearing around them, freaking her relatives out. to the point that they were cast out, [y/n] left alone to fend for themselves.

they stood on the stage for the others attending the auction, their faces covered in masks and robes covering their bodies. a spotlight shined above them, "this is the product you've all been waiting for." the auctioneer announced.

"a rare item, even among our current offerings." he continued, the crowd gasped in awe looking at them. "starting at 500,000."

"1,100,000!"

"1,500,000!"

"1,800,000!"

"2,000,000!"

"2,250,000!"

people shouted in the audience shouting out their bids. as [y/n] stood on the stage unfazed not even batting an eye. they just stood there as people shouted out how much they'd pay to buy them. suddenly a caw was heard from the door, and a man entered the audience hall. in all black as if revealing himself from the shadows.

the auctioneers turned towards him as he walked towards the stage. a raven flew towards the stage and landed, beside [y/n] on the ground. they looked at the black raven curiously until the man, stood before them looking down at them. towering over them. [y/n] gaze turned towards him as they looked into his eyes, they could see the cosmos.

"5,000,000." he says, and the auctioneers gasp in shock hearing his bid. and they look up at him, "It's decided," he says, looking down at [y/n].

"you shall be an apprentice," he says, looking down at them.

[darthpotater]

My One and Only

After finally locating Jed Walker and Gault, Dream has to deal with a jealous little someone.

A/N: hello, it me again. yeah, im still not over my "dream of the endless, a single dad" feels so please bear with me as i write this one but i hope you enjoy nevertheless!

"It's time to wake up, Jed." Dream said before looking at Rose, who was protesting. "Goodbye, Rose Walker." He added as he reached for Maximus' hand and began walking back to their palace. Gault quietly treaded after them, eyes glued to the floor. "Maximus, I want you to go to your chambers when we get inside. I have matters to tend to." Dream ordered softly, his voice stern but soft. Maximus nodded sadly, "Yes, father." Dream glanced down at his son who, like Gault, was looking sadly at the ground. "You wait for me inside." He ordered as he looked at Gault, who obeyed and did what she was told. As she disappeared into the castle, The father and son were left alone, and Dream knew what he had to do first; be a father.

He knelt down in front of little Maximus and stared for a few moments, admiring his son. Dream admitted that he may not be the best father out there in the universe nor was his parenting style the best approach but one thing Dream knew was that he loved this boy above and beyond, up until the very end of the cosmos and back. And he'll do anything to make sure his little one is in good hands and safe with him. He couldn't commit the same mistakes again, especially with Maximus. "My Maximus," He called out softly, making the little boy look up at him. "What is the matter? You can confide in me." He asked in a whisper. Maximus softly shook his head before hiding a sniffle. "Are you feeling unwell?" Dream asked, concern evident in his voice. Maximus shook his head once more. "Then tell me, my son, what is it that is bothering you?" "I-I thought I was the Sandman." Maximus finally spoke. Dream stared at him, brows furrowed. "You are. Has anyone told you otherwise?" Dream asked, "N-no. But Jed Walker said earlier that he was the Sandman and I thought I was the Sandman like you would always tell me and then I looked up at you and you looked like–" Dream couldn't help but smile at his son. Maximus scrunched his face and pouted. "Father, why are you laughing? This is no laughing matter." Maximus whined, making Dream smile even more. "It's not fair, father." He pouted. Dream stood back up, lifting the boy in his arms. With no contest, Maximus immediately laid his head on his father's shoulder, the fatigue slowly catching on. "My sweet Maximus, you are the Sandman." "You mean it?" "My one and only."

"Cool beans." Maximus said with a yawn. Dream scrunched his eyebrows once again. "What did you say?" "Matthew taught me what it meant. I love cool and I love beans very much so. So I've decided to add it to my vocabulary." Maximus explained sleepily as Dream started rubbing his back. Dream smiled faintly once again before walking back into his palace, with a now sleeping Maximus.

(i really think that dream is a huge softie, he's just misunderstood and peculiar but nevertheless, a softie)

[cloudsofcondensation]

Amongst the crowds. He's two seconds away from a breakdown if you're interested.

[swanimagines]

LOST DREAMS | MORPHEUS

Summary: Your ancestor was cursed by Morpheus long ago so the women in your family would be plagued with eternal wakefulness, but you don't believe in the curse or that some ancient Greek god was the cause of it, like your grandmother always told you about. Doctors have told you that the only reason they can think of is most likely a severe case of ADHD in the family and that's why you never feel sleepy. But then you get a job at a Burgess mansion and find something in the basement that makes your grandmother's stories sounding not so crazy after all...

Even on her deathbed, your grandma had talked about the "curse" she claimed the whole family suffered from. You could see how it can be seen as a curse, never feeling sleepy and how you always had energy for everything - because of that, you had had plenty of boring moments every day and it did suck. Not to mention, your friends talking about how funny and good dreams they have had always sparked jealousy within you. It was something you had never experienced.

Doctors had researched you since you were a baby, but they couldn't pinpoint a reason for being unable to fall asleep either. They had you running from test to test, even sent you to another country for more tests with a world top sleep disorder clinic, but nothing worked. Some doctors were afraid that your condition is a type of fatal insomnia, and that you were slowly dying. But those were knocked down too with brain scans, and after your grandma and mother could testify that they had been exactly the same since birth, doctors were facing yet another puzzle. The condition was absolutely unheard of. You heard stories that someone in your family had been burned as a witch for not sleeping, which ultimately made you believe it's something running in the family.

And after some debating between doctors, they too decided that it's an extremely rare type of ADHD, the most severe there is, and your family are the first ones it's been detected to have. They also believed that something in your brains had aligned so perfectly that you not sleeping doesn't affect the brains negatively and expressed their will to be able to take your brains for medical research.

Your grandmother, however, wasn't keen on that thought. She had made up her mind that it's the ancient Greek god Morpheus who had cursed you with it, and nothing would be found from her brains.

"Mother, Morpheus is an ancient Greek god. He's not real," you remember your mother saying as you were visiting your grandma in the hospital. "There's also no thing as curses or magic."

Your grandma had pursed her lips and shook her head. "Oh my dear foolish girl, you just don't understand it. Our ancestor, many centuries ago, was Morpheus' lover, and-"

"She rejected him, we all remember," you interrupted. "He cursed her and everyone in her family to never feel tired."

Your grandma had let out a long breath through her nose. "No, he cursed the women with it. Not men. It is said that he became enraged when his lover refused his kingdom, and when she passed away, he took revenge by striking down all of us with this curse, preventing us from getting proper rest. And now, you're the newest one of our family to carrying the curse. Your future daughters will carry it too, and it will be passed on to their daughters in turn."

You had sighed in chorus with your mother, your grandma had always been clearly delusional about it. Likely brainwashed by her own mother, who had been brainwashed by her mother and so on. But you and your mother were new generation, who didn't believe in such absurd stories and had reliable medical research under your fingertips but unfortunately, you had had to listen your grandma talking about it all your childhood.

When your grandma had passed away, you moved out from your hometown and settling to a nice little town in southern England. You got a job as a cleaner-occasional cook-extra pay caretaker in a fancy mansion owned by an elderly couple, and life was good.

But every mansion has its mysteries, and this mansion had one too. A secret door with a hidden passcode tablet, and only some could go in. No one, besides the guards or Alex and Paul, really knew what was behind it, and no one dared to find it out for themselves. After all, everyone knew that if Alex found out that his servant was going into the room, he would likely fire them, so no one dared to try their luck.

No one, except you. You knew how to get in, and even though you never tried before, you had the feeling that it would work. So you had gone in secretly in the middle of the night, your "curse" as your little helper. You had succeeded in distracting the guards and crept your way down the stairs.

You came to a large, dark hall and you swallowed as you switched the light on. The lights blinded you for a moment, and you raised your arm in front of your eyes, before slowly peeking through and your heart jumped a little upon seeing a figure sitting there. It was a man, who was inside a large glass sphere, not even looking at you gawking at him. Then you realised that he was naked, and quickly turned your head away from his lower regions.

"I'm sorry, I...I..." You stuttered, your voice croaking. "I didn't think there's someone here. Everyone is so mysterious and I wanted to see what is it that is kept here. Wait, you... you aren't kept here as a prisoner, are you?"

The man didn't reply, but his eyes shifted at you, and you felt like a mouse caught in the stare of an owl. His gaze was intense, and a shiver ran down your spine.

You took it as a yes. "Can I help you? Can I do anything?" you continued nervously.

The man kept quiet, but you caught something in his eyes, something which looked like disbelief. You opened your mouth to speak again, but then closed it. You glanced over your shoulder before taking a step towards the sphere, and noticed strange vigils in a circle on the ground.

"What's this?" you asked, still somehow wishing the man would say something. Even when you knew he wouldn't. But his gaze was on the circle now too and he cocked his head slightly at it.

"This sounds stupid, but it looks like a summoning circle. I've probably watched supernatural movies a little too much," you chuckled. The man slowly raised his eyes on you again, and then back down again. You frowned. "Do you... want me to break it?" you asked hesitantly.

The man's piercing blue eyes once again met yours. Then he, very slowly, nodded.

You swallowed hard and stepped forward, fingers trembling as you touched the circle with your foot. It immediately felt like some unknown force was pulling at you, like you were being pulled towards it and you made a stroke, erasing a small segment of the circle.

You let out a breath you didn't know you were holding, and heard noise from the stairway and immediately panicked, looking at the man and then sprinting towards the light. You turned it off and made your way to the farthest corner of the basement, hoping no one would notice you once lights were on.

After a few moments, you heard a chair scrape the stone floor and carefully peered towards the doorway. The other guard had come back and was reading a newspaper. You watched as the man in the glass sphere slowly stood up, pressing his hands on the glass and suddenly, all hell was loose.

A wind surged through the room, knocking the doors open and making a terrible sound. You covered your ears, before realising it wasn't just the wind. There was a bright light, you saw the figure of that man climbing out of the sphere and you screamed, not knowing what was happening.

Suddenly, the guard was on the ground and another bright light appeared. Then the man in the glass sphere was gone, just like that. The light, the wind and the noise had all stopped the moment that man had gone and you slowly got up. Your knees buckled but you forced yourself to go upstairs, to pretend you were never there. You were shaken. What had happened?

---

Some time after that, you were preparing yourself for another book marathon. You didn't feel like watching Netflix right now, so books it was. But then something happened, something that had never happened before.

You fell asleep. You put your head on the pillow and began reading when you were taken over this strange feeling of wanting to close your eyes, so you did. And sleep came. Suddenly, you were transferred in front of a huge castle, dragons and fairies flying over you and a sweet smell that tickled your nose. And you were sure you had lost your mind.

"Hello," a deep voice said from beside you and you twirled around to see the man from the sphere in front of you. Now, fortunately, fully dressed. He smiled and you stared at him, confused.

"How- How are you here?" You asked, frowning. This was absurd, almost like a... dream?

"You're dreaming," the man confirmed your suspicion. Your eyes widened.

"What? H-how?"

"I lifted the curse. So you could meet me."

You blinked. "C-curse?"

"Yes. A long time ago, I cursed a woman who didn't accept my proposal, when I asked her to be my queen when she died. So I told her that every woman who is born in her family, will be cursed by eternal wakefulness." He narrowed his eyes slightly. "I was bitter and inconsiderate when I did that, taken by my feelings and sadness."

"Wait, so... my grandmother was right? You... you are..."

"Morpheus, the King of Dreams." He smirked. "Your kind thinks I'm just a story, but I exist, in fact. The whole dream realm exists, and we can't tell stories without dreams."

You still stood there, dumfounded. "You lifted the curse so I'm... I'm able to sleep and dream now?"

Morpheus smiled slightly. "Yes. As a thank you for releasing me."

You blinked again, and then took in your surroundings. A dragon sat next to you, its wings spread wide and a fairy sitting on top of it, playing with some sort of crystal ball.

"If I may, I can show you around the realm?" Morpheus offered and you gave him a nod. "Very well. Follow me."

You started walking with him, and in a few minutes, you arrived at a forest. The trees were tall and wide, with red flowers blooming everywhere. On your left, you could hear the sound of water flowing and on your right, a waterfall. A beautiful place, one that you wanted to stay in forever.

"There is a lake not far from here, where the fairies usually gather. It is very beautiful, would you like to see it?" Morpheus suggested and you nodded. "Follow me."

He walked into the woods, and shortly after that, you reached the lake. The water sparkled in the sunlight, and the land surrounding it was green. Many little houses were built around the edges, and you couldn't help but stare at them. They reminded you of dollhouses, and you quickly realised that they were where fairies lived.

"This is the most beautiful place I've ever seen," you murmured.

"It is." Morpheus agreed. "Would you like to see my palace?"

You looked at him questioningly and he smiled.

"The house of the king of dreams is located in the heart of the realm. You need my permission to enter it, and only a few may. But you have earned my trust."

You nodded. "Thank you."

He smiled again. "Then follow me."

You walked out of the forest, and suddenly were met with the palace once again. It was bigger than you expected, even though you had been expecting it to be big. The garden was large and full of flowers, while the inside was decorated in a warm golden colour, with paintings hanging from the walls. He led you to the library, and you looked around at the bookshelves and the many old manuscripts.

"I heard you like books, so I thought you would like this," Morpheus said, smiling. "You can read whatever you want."

"Really?" You gasped, and his smile grew slightly. "Thank you!"

You went through the endless shelves, looking at all the books you could see. Some you recognised, others you hadn't seen before. Morpheus stood there for a moment, before exiting the room.

Dreams were even more magical than anyone had ever told you, and you couldn't wait to see a whole new world of them.

---

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

[pumpkinkingsalem]

Okay, hear me out, hear me out. HEAR ME OUT

YOU CAN'T TELL ME HE'S NOT A GIANT MAINE COON LIKE LOOK AT HIM

[webonchin]

Dream worm...

(og idea bellow ,It was so funny i needed to draw it)

[avtrbee]

love game. i

summary: he has never been a good husband, but a century in captivity might change his mind

pairing: morpheus x love!reader

tw: dark!morpheus hehe, mention of rape is you squint but i kinda emphasized that its not? toxic relationships (?)

a/n: gif aint mine. idk where this is fic going. this is the literal example of head empty, no thoughts just my love for men groveling at my feet. hopefully you like them too

“Where is my wife?” he asked, glancing at Lucienne. “Had she abandoned me too? Surely she has sensed me by now…”

His librarian gives him an uncertain look. “My lord, my lady will only come if you summon her. It has been that way for centuries.”

He looks up the ceiling of his palace. There were holes where the roof has fallen, letting sunshine through the throne room. On the damp corners, weeds had slipped through the pristine walls that he had built. His palace looks like a broken heart, thrown away and abandoned. He wonders if this is what she felt like. “Then I summon I shall summon her.”

You came a few seconds after he had said the words.

Lucienne is the first thing you see. She is standing up straight with her hands behind her back- the perfect picture of formality except on her face was a smile wider than you have seen her in a century. Lucienne does not cry, professionalism forbids her so, but you know that if she could he would have tears running down her face in joy. Her heart tells you so. Lucienne’s heart tells you more- the love for her master who has some back.

She bows to you, and steps aside. You cannot help the relief in your face as you see your husband. You blink twice waiting for him to fade away just to be sure.  “You’re back,” you whisper in awe, walking towards him quickly. “Forgive me for not coming sooner, my lord, I had to make sure.” Your eyes widen a fraction at your mistake. “Not that I doubted you, husband, I-”

You meet his eyes and you halt. “Are you alright?”

The Dreaming stills. Even in its decaying form its realm remembers its master. Not a single dust threatened to fall, and every speck of dust held its breath. “I was captured.” Dream stares at the ground as he speaks. His voice was a quiet rumble with anger evident in his face. 

Captured? You wanted to ask, along with the thousands of questions that bombarded your head. How in the world did an Endless become prisoner? But you held your tongue. Knowing your husband, his pride is wounded and irritable. He is frustrated to retreat to the Dreaming to lick his wounds, and even humiliated that he came back significantly weaker than when he left.

Instead, you swallow the concern down your throat and settled for the sight of him. He looked the same as he had always been, but something has changed. This you are certain. 

“Welcome back, Dream Lord.” You greet with a smile and a small bow. It was a smart statement. No mention of his time in absence or your misplaced concern, only your relief that he is back in the Dreaming. You turn your heel to leave, when he spoke up.

“You’re leaving already?” 

Your eyes snapped back at him suspiciously. From the corner of your eye you see Lucienne exit the room, but you did not dare to take your eyes off the Dream Lord. He has never complained of your departure before. Some days you think he wishes you left as soon as you arrived. “Yes,” you nod. “I have my duties to attend to. You have called and I have come. I have done your bidding.”

“I-” Something passes in his face, like a shadow of sadness. “That is not what I meant.”

You look at him, confused, but smiled and nodded anyway. “Then how can I serve you, my lord?”

The dream lord looks at you like you had caused him pain. “Love,” he says, and you almost flinch in surprise. He had never said your name so gently before. In fact, you realize that this is the first time you have even heard him say your name. You were only ever ‘wife’, never ‘Love’, you were…nothing. “I…I apologize. I have not been a good husband to you.”

Your mind flies back to the wedding you have blessed before he had summoned you. The groom and the bride looked so happy, so in love. With your blessing you knew their marriage would be a successful one, the kind that would last until the end of their lifetime. If only yours were the same.You quickly shook the thought away from your head. You are not the naive girl you once were.

Instead, you shake your head. For a moment, you wonder if he would forgive you for taking a step towards him, but you decided against it after recalling what had happened last time. “You are not a cruel husband, Dream.”

You have seen first hand what cruelty is. Men and women pray to you constantly to make their spouses love them, if only they would stop hurting them. But your husband had never hurt you. He wouldn’t dare. And you would not let him.

He gives you a rueful smile. “Then what kind of husband am I if my wife can’t even take a step towards me?”

You suck up a breath. So he had noticed that. The king of dreams is not cruel, but he is cold. You had tried once, when you were first married. Arranged marriages rarely bared fruit to love, but there were some exceptions if they tried enough. You had greeted him, every day, sat beside him every morning to break your fast, walked along with him despite his obvious annoyance. For a few years you visited his realm everyday, had greeted his mornings with the sweetest kiss and at the end of your night, opened your legs when he saw fit, letting him take you whenever he wanted. But eventually, you have resorted to only come when he calls you. He never calls because he misses his wife. More often than not, he has a command to give and expected you to obey. 

“I realize now that you did not ask for this marriage, and I had forced you into it.” In a surge of courage, he held out his hand silently asking for yours. For the first time in a long time you saw nervousness in his eyes, anxious to see your response. You knew that you had every right to stand still, and no one would fault you for it. But you slowly gave your hand anyway. 

You were surprised to know that your husband’s hand was warm. Had you expected him to feel cold? When was the last time you had even touched him? When was the last time he had touched you?

Relief was splattered in his face. Dark eyes lock with yours as he ever so slowly raised your palm to his lips. “How callous have I been to subject Love to a loveless marriage?”

“You did not force me to do anything,” you insist, eyes locked at your hand on his, at the spot his lips had kissed. “You didn’t wish for this marriage either.”

“But I did not have to be so unkind.” Slowly, he dropped your hand to your side and took a step back. You did not know how to feel at the loss of his touch. “In my cage, I had plenty of time to ponder on the things I have normally ignored. I had often wondered how cruel my captors were for keeping me inside my cage for so long but haven’t I done the same to you?” 

You gulped.

“Have I not made you feel unwelcome in a realm that is yours as much as it is mine by law? Haven’t I made the Dreaming your cage, Love?” He asked, eyelashes touching his cheek.

“My lord,” you say in alarm as you process his words. “The Dreaming is a haven compared to what you’ve went through. The Dreaming is a haven compared to anything.”

It did not go unnoticed by you both that you did not deny Dream’s first statement. The Dreaming has never felt like home to you for it has given you nothing to be tied down to it. Its wonder had never failed to welcome you every time you visit, but you do not stay too long. Home is warmth, and the Dreaming has always been so cold to you. Home is your own realm, an endless pink sky like a never ending sunset across the horizon. 

“Forgive me,” your husband whispers. And to your horror, you watch in shock as the King of Dreams bend down on one knee followed by the other. This time you touch him, not caring about the consequences. You grip his arms and attempt to pull him back up, but he stubbornly remains rooted on the ground. 

Your head whips to the exit Lucienne left at and to any other possible entrances to his throne room. It is simply unheard of to have an Endless kneel to someone who is lower to them. You have never even heard of an Endless kneeling before. Your mind races at the thousand possibilities of who might witness your husband beg. Oh, what if Desire came in- ?

“There is no one here, they’ve all gone away in my absence” Dream says, his voice steady like he wasn’t down on his knees for you. “Lucienne is in her library absorbed in her work. You’re all I have left. You’re all I’ve always had. Forgive me, Love.”

Flashes of forgotten cooked meals, cold nights, deserted company and a millennium worth of loneliness flashes in your mind. You have always been so neglected. Is this it, then? Were you to throw away everything because he learned humility after a century?

“There is nothing to forgive, my lord.” You say, eager to get this conversation over and to have your husband just stand up.

“Morpheus,” he corrects with a sad smile. Your response echoes in his head and he did not need confirmation to know that it was a lie. How are you still so loyal? “Then forgive me anyway.” He compromises on your behalf, even when kneeling. He knew you would deny your lie if he asked. 

“Alright.” 

Your shoulders sag and sigh in sheer relief when Morpheus finally stands back up. You can him from head to toe just to be certain he is well before reminding yourself that your hands are still gripping his leather sleeves. You release them immediately, but he caught you wrists before you could pull away.

You flinch, and his eyes soften in regret. I am not scared, you want to say, I’m just not used to you touching me. 

“Have I made you fear me so?” His grip on your wrists in gentle. If you wanted to pull away he would let you. But you let him hold your wrists at the thought that this might be the last time in a long time you will feel him. Might as well relish in it. “I will do better,” he vows. “I will be kinder, more gentle. I will do right by you this time.”

You tug your wrists away from his grasp slowly. “I must return to the waking world, my lord. My duties await me.”

Lie. You hear no prayers, no human calling for your help.

You’ve seen this trick before. You’ve seen mortal men promise the same sweet things to their wives only for them to hurt them once again. A few pretty words is not enough to erase a millennium of memories. 

You turn your heel and walk out of his throne room. Morpheus lets you. 

want more? check out my masterlist

next- love game. ii

[gay-dorito-dust]

Idea by @mm2305 - morpheus taking care of an injured reader.

Taglist: @mess-in-side @mm2305 @lex-the-flex @murnsondock @blossomedfloweroflove @dinonuggett

Everything hurt. Your head, your chest, your legs, everything; Even your bodily functions were causing you issues. Your eyes refused to be subjected to blinding lights and perfected to stay tightly shut but it wasn’t enough as the light hitting your eyelids seemed to make them hiss; your lungs relinquished you off their full capacity to inhale air without capsizing and deflecting like a lead balloon; and your ears had put everything within your vicinity on mute from any and all potential sounds both harmless and dangerous.

All you were aware of was the fact that you were hurt, badly and while everything was wavering in and out of colour and consciousness, you could just barely make out the crimson smear that stained your skin like juice; sticking to your skin uncomfortably like papermache. You could barely make out the sound of beating wings encroaching you from afar getting louder with each passing second that you had lead yourself to the conclusion that the ever so beautiful death had finally came to collect your soul and guiding you safely into the afterlife that you found yourself smiling, awaiting the inevitable fate that would come for all things.

Mathew and Lucienne were running across the sandy landscapes of the dreaming as they saw the silhouette of your limp body collapse in the distance which ignited something within them that something was horribly wrong. They had their suspicions when it took you longer then usual in retuning home to the dreaming and it was only made certain when they were close enough to see the bloodstained sand pooling beneath you. “MATHEW,” Lucienne cried to the raven, “GO ALERT LORD MORPHEUS!” The raven stared at her for a few seconds as though contemplating whether or not he’d make it in time before anything worse could befall you. “Now!” The librarian exclaimed causing the bird to squawk in surprise and fly with all his might back to the palace as she knelt by your side, slightly out of breath.

Worry consumed Lucienne as she gazed upon your content face and small smile, grasping your hand in her own as she felt around for a pulse; whilst simultaneously lowering her head so it was hovering over your slightly agape mouth that brushed puffs of warm air against her cheek just faintly enough to give her some reprieve on the severity of your situation. Your wounds weren’t anything to scoff at but it was safe to say that the dried blood made them appear more critical then they looked. Though that doesn’t negate the fact that you would be on bed rest for quite some time for proper recuperation. “Hang on y/n, please I promise you Morpheus is on his way.” Lucienne whispered when she finally felt out your weakening pulse, wishing she could do something to ease your pain or restore your health just long enough until morpheus arrived. Yet she couldn’t and in situations like these it was enough to make one doubt their abilities.

Thankfully she didn’t have to wait long as in a burst of sand Morpheus was standing next to her with Mathew perched on his shoulder looking down at your body with as much worry a raven could portray, “are they…” he trailed off not wanting to manifest an undeserving fate upon you within a realm where anything one could believe in coming true; Nor did he want to set the dream lord off into a enraged fit of denial as he glanced at how silent he had been the entire journey here it was almost unsettling. The moment the raven flew into the throne room, telling Morpheus everything a little too fast for the his liking but was quick to demand Mathew to take him back to you with the most deadliest gleam in his eyes that overpowered the worry and concern the endless felt within his soul.

“They’re still breathing my lord though it’s very faint…I don’t know how much time until….” Lucienne took control of the situation when quickly noticing the tell tell signs within Morpheus whenever he heard something he didn’t hold in such high favour, however this wasn’t time to adhere to his ego as your situation was the highest of priority to Lucienne and she wasn’t about to let your condition get worse if she could help it whilst also conveying the harsh truth that you may or may not have the highest of survival percentage the more they faffed about without taking action. “They’re in dire need of medical attention my lord we must act now.” Morpheus looked to her in understanding and knelt beside you, tucking an arm underneath your own to slip across to the middle of your shoulder blades as the other slipped under your legs. “They shall not die today if I have any say over it, not now not ever for I’ve lost so much of myself once before and I shall not relive those dark moments when I have the ability to save them.” The dream lord finally spoke as he lifted himself back to full height, holding you tightly against his chest before dispersing into nothingness; leaving Lucienne and Mathew to stare at where he stood before gazing at the blood stained sand where you once laid with a sense of melancholy within their eyes.

“They’re going to be alright, Morpheus promise so.” The librarian state though however it felt as though she was trying to convince herself that those words held indefinite truth behind them, that those words were law within the dreaming that you wouldn’t be dying here, wasting your last breaths here, suffering endlessly here. That you wouldn’t be withholding any regrets hereof all the things you could’ve possibly done before meeting your end. Mathew didn’t say anything as what could he possibly say that would make this situation any less dire then it was, so he chose to remain silent on their journey back to the palace where the pair hopes you were receiving the best medical attention known to dream kind. Praying to any deity that could be bothered to hear their silent prayers to save more time for you as they knew Morpheus would be lost within the endless expanse of the eternal darkness with you.

Morpheus could feel the change in the air as he sat upon the staircase of his throne room with his dark coat draped behind him like the spilt blood from your wounds that now coat his hands with dried cracks. The halls were filled with unwelcomed dread and fear that took the form of uncertain whispers that trailed their way to his ears like corporeal snakes. Your well-being was being question by everyone in the dreaming. Abel, Cain, Lucienne, Mathew, Goldie, dreams, nightmares and even Fiddler’s Green was questioning the chances of you ever brightening the palace ever again. He hated how easily it seemed that their fears slowly became his own; Morpheus felt that being fearful of your well-being was a sign of distrust he had in regards of your ability to fight and persevere through the hardships like you had done before.

However he denied himself of accepting the harsh possibility that he’d never see you again. His starlight, his happiness but most importantly his hope; he would rather be happier in denial then wallow in general pain of the fact of how equally cruel fate can be as it is kind. “My lord,” a healer of one of the many wards Morpheus carried your unconscious body to, stood within the throne room a little skittish, “they’re in stable condition but will be due for some indefinite bed rest until their wounds have completely healed.” The dream lord felt a sense of relief overcome him at the news but tried to not let it show in front of the healer; because after all he had the duty as king to uphold which meant he wasn’t allowed to show much of an emotional reaction when it came to those dearest to him. “Then I shall watch over them until then.” He said in a certain voice that silently challenged the healer to question it, tricking them into his trap.

“My lord it’s no issue for us to-“ “I appreciate all you’ve done for y/n but I can take over from here.” Morpheus interrupted, watching the healer form his throne afar as they squirmed like a mouse under a cats paw, struggling to break free. “Yes my lord, as you wish my lord.” They said sheepishly before dismissing them self from the throne room; allowing Morpheus to smile briefly at the aspect of being able to overlook your recuperation himself because if he was being honest; there was no one he’d personally have oversee your healing other then him and himself alone. It’s not that he distrusts his healers but it’s just the fact that he had grown so possessive over you in such a short period of time that the mere aspect of anyone else tending to your wounds other then him has his feathers ruffled. Was it not his place as your friend, confidant, lover and more to oversee your well-being? So without another moment wasted on flighting thoughts, Morpheus descended from the staircase and into the hallway that lead him to the medical wing of the palace.

You awoke later that day, body aching in nullified pain, a pain way more bearable then the one felt when laying in the sands of the dreaming; though now you were laying upon the soft comfort of a bed within the medical wing of Morpheus’s palace, tightly put back together with bandages and some healing magic. Speaking of the dream lord himself you found him looming at the foot of your bed like the blurred silhouette of a sleep paralysis demon, stone faced and all but you could look into his starry eyes and see every emotion within them from anger to distraught. “Morpheus? What are you doing here? Shouldn’t you be doing some kingly duties or have you had Lucienne run them for you?” You tried to joke but it died fast upon exiting your mouth as the dream lord only seemed insulted by your methods of coping a near death experience.

“You were bleeding out on the sands of my realm mere moments ago on the verge of my sisters doorstep, of course in going to prioritise you over my kingdom.” Morpheus’s words were bitter, sharp and cold like ice that you’d fear you’d worsen your situation if you were to touch it. You knew deep down that he only acted like this with people he genuinely cared about deeply; it’s happened before when Mathew almost got shot out of the sky by some poachers that were swiftly dealt with an never ending nightmare soon after by the dream lord himself. The trauma of loosing Jessamy still haunting him like that of a lingering ghost, a memory he didn’t wish to relive a second time with the fact that he has all his tools and powers back to full strength.

You didn’t blame his reaction, it was justified as he, Lucienne and Mathew were the ones to find you in such a horrific state that it deeply scared their minds whenever thinking of they were a millisecond too late. So you joking about it only came across that you didn’t take it as seriously as they did; which wasn’t true. You were petrified at the aspect of dying like all living things but knew that Morpheus would be within arms reach out you in a more comfortable state. “Alright, my bad I shouldn’t be joking about such things, I apologise but the question still stands, what about your duties?” Morpheus seemed to relax as he made his way to situate himself on the edge of your bed, holding onto your hand. “They can wait for as long as I desire because I wish to help you regain full health once more.” This time however his voice was like a caress or smooth, dark, velvety chocolate to your ears; his eyes flashed to the white plaster tightly taped against your arm before retreating back to his lap as though ashamed at himself for allowing you to be in this state in the first place when he was never at fault to begin with. “You don’t have to do that.” You whispered, squeezing his hand reassuringly as you shot him a comforting smile when he dared to look you in the eye. “After all it’s just a little wear and tear.” The dream lord groaned at your second attempt to liven the mood but couldn’t help but let a small smile slip, your unique characteristics never failing to be his weakness.

“I still wish to be by your side as you recover, if not for my own self reassurance but for yours that you will okay and that despite some permanent scaring you’ll still be as ethereal as the moment I met you.” You grew a little misty eyed at his confession, fearing that he may not view you the same now that you had several scars in visible places for all gandering and gossip obsessed eyes could bear witness. “If only you let me that is.” He added, a little uncertain as to your answer. You smiled at him, “of course I’d let you stay, after all you’ll be there to catch me if I fall, won’t you?” Morpheus squeezes your hand, “always my beloved.”

[callmemaeverick]

Haven II: A Meeting of Personalities [ Dream of the Endless x Reader]

AN: Wow! One week in and 500 notes. Thank you so much guys for the lovely comments. I hope this one does you all justice. Without further ado, let’s go to part 2! Word count: 1090 [Part 1]

The sound of your name being called made you look up from the book you were reading and you smiled at the familiar face of the Lord of Dreams. It had been a few days since your first journey to the place you now knew as the Dreaming and while the whole thing was still quite unnerving, you were too intrigued to not want to know more, to see more.

You had done some of your own research but what meagre information you found on the internet focuses mainly on Greek mythology and while you had the inkling that there were some truths in what you found, you also knew that you would need more information.

Which brought you back to the Library.

Where you met Lucienne.

Now, the librarian was a bit wary of you in the beginning, uncomfortable with having you appear walking around the Palace basically unchecked. But she wasn’t unwelcoming. Of course, Dream had already told her about you. What exactly he had told her, you did not know.

Still, you did your best to win her over properly and your efforts were proven fruitful when you caught the small proud smile on her lips when you complimented her on her curation of the Library.

“I could get lost in here and I would be perfectly content.” You told her, a statement to which she agreed.

Lucienne had given you a tour and told you about the properties of the Library. Of how it contains every book in existence, finished or unfinished or even simply imagined. She also told you that mortals should not be able to read in dreams. That the letters should be jumbled up beyond recognition. Your ability to read and even write perfect sentences while you were within the Dreaming was an anomaly that even Dream himself had never encountered.

Speaking of the King of Dreams, you waved lightly at him in greeting, unable to help the small jolt of excitement at his presence. You had hoped to see him again since that first night. “Hello, Dream.”

He stood there between rows and rows of books, all the while looking like a normal man, but now that you know, you could feel the unworldly power emanating off of him, ebbing and flowing like the calm waves rolling outside his massive gates. 

“I hope you don’t mind.” You gestured to the shelf before you. “I was doing some research so I helped myself to some of your books.”

Morpheus, or Dream as you preferred to call him, observed you in silence, his blue eyes intense but his face ever impassive. After a few seconds with no reaction from him, unease began to creep up your spine and you felt yourself becoming self-conscious, feeling as if your presence was irritating and unwanted.

You cleared your throat to break the awkward tension. “I-I’m sorry if I’m not supposed to. Lucienne had implied-”

“What are you reading?” He asked, and the smile on your face came back full force.

“Oh, this?” You walked over to him and revealed the cover of the thin book in your hands. A flash of gold passed over his face from the light that reflected off of the laminated cardstock showing the drawing of the Egyptian deity Ra and a black serpent.

He looked at the book and then back at you. “Of all the knowledge stored in this Library and you are reading a children’s book?” He asked, his tone incredulous, almost offended. He scanned the cover once more, as if reconfirming what he was seeing. “And not an accurate one at that.”

Shocked indignation lanced through you at the condescending way he spoke to you but for the sake of propriety, you pushed it down. Perhaps he had misunderstood you.

“No, this is not… This is not for my research. I was just looking around and I remembered something from my childhood. You see,” You stepped up closer to his side and flipped the pages open, running your hands over the cheap paper. “-this book was my favourite out of all the books in my middle school library. Whenever I had the time, I would go to the library and this would be the first book I look for.”

The book depicts a story of how Ra was poisoned by one of his great, great grandchildren Isis because she wanted her husband, Osiris to become the Pharaoh of Egypt. It was such a fascinating read for your 11-year-old mind that no matter how many times you read it, you would still feel excited when you found it tucked in upon the shelves.

“I used to want to be an archaeologist and this book was the only book in that small library that was about anything remotely Egyptian. Unfortunately, it got ruined due to a water damage in school and I never saw it again.” You voice turns soft as you think back on the bittersweet memory. “I haven’t read it in 15 years.”

When you looked back up at Dream, his gaze was not as intense but gentler, the twin pools of blue, calm and still for once. Unlike the raging storms from when you first met. He didn’t say a word as he seemed to take in what you have told him.

Then a floorboard somewhere in the Library creaked and just like that, it was as if a spell was broken and its effects lifted from around the both of you. Awkwardly, you took a step back from the Endless.

“You said you were doing research?” He asked you, head tilted slightly making him appear just a little bit birdlike.

You blinked at him, a bit surprised. Was that all he got from you? “Uh, yeah. Yes.”

“Did you find anything?”

You swallowed the embarrassment at sharing a piece of you so easily. It was unlike you to be so comfortable so fast. And for it to be dismissed like that. With regret, you felt a wall go up inside you. “Um, no. To be honest, I don’t even understand half of what I read.”

You saw the way he then retreated into his own thoughts at what you told him, his attention deviating. He nodded at you. “Carry on.” And then he left you alone.

You watched him walk away, slightly confused as to what had happened but you decided you weren’t going to even attempt to understand it. You turned back to your book, no longer interested in reading it.

~

 [Part III]

  Taglist: @prurose @caitlyn221b @jyessaminereads @anonymous69 @megumimind @katnighttime​​ @quillycrow​​ @stuckinmylittlebubble​​ @mari-ewe-blog​​ @mess-in-side​​ 

[writing-fanics]

as I’m laying in bed I’m thinking about a morpheus fic where once he escapes instead of ending up in the dreaming he ends up somewhere else

I’m the woods somewhere and a witch y/n finds him and brings him back to her cabin. taking care of him and of course he’s rude and cold towards her even tho she’s trying to help him.

yet he’s kind to the witches daughter who occasionally brings him herbal tea she’s little at most four years old

when y/n is bringing him some food to help him regain some strength he asks her about her daughter

she’s smugly responds “why should I answer any of your questions when you’ve been nothing but rude to me.”

he stays silent and she sighs, “her name is Faye, she’s my pride and joy.”

“what of her father?” He asks

“dead he was of the fae folk. he was my first love in the many centuries I’ve been alive on this earth.”

“I’m sorry for your loss,”

“it’s alright it happened awhile ago.” she says looking down at the dream lord

“what was his name?”

“Aoelus means wind,” she smiles sadly fidgeting with the wedding band around her neck.

“Aoelus, I remember him he was brave, kind, and honestly scary at times” he says,

Causing her to chuckle softly, “yes, he was. so full of life he was, I remember when I told him I was pregnant how excited he was.”

her lip started quivering , “it wasn’t long after that I’d lost him,” she says, biting her lip as her eyes glossed over.

“the moment the wind stopped I just new he was gone. we had so little time together,” she starts tearing up trying to stop herself from crying in front of dream.

“does your daughter know what happened?” he asked

she nodded, “I tell stories of him every night, ” she smiles softly wiping away a few stray tears.

“Now, eat your food I know you don’t need it but I worked my ass of making it so it’ll help you regain your strength faster.” She says, leaving the room and dream could only smile as he oblige.

the first part ends in [y/n] telling the story of the wind to her daughter, and dream listening to her tell the story.

[a/n: There might be multiple parts of y/n slowly moving on and falling for Dream

but honestly with what happens to morpheus in the comics this is just heartbreaking to think about how she’ll have to endure through it again

[7-wonders]

Wishful Drinking

Morpheus/Dream of the Endless x GN!Reader

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

Or, drunk shenanigans galore!

Word Count: 3.5k

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

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

Listen.

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

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

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

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

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

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

But then shots had been ordered.

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

And you bought yourself two drinks.

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

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

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

“Don’ worry ‘bout it,” you say.

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

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

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

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

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

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

“Where have you been?” Morpheus demands.

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

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

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

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

But that’s not what happens.

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

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

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

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

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

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

“How can you tell that in the Dreaming?”

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

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

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

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

“Lucienne! Hi! How have you been!” 

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

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

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

“You put yourself in this state?”

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

“Because,” is your simple, childish reply.

“That is not a good answer.”

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

“Are you sure?”

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

“Are you well enough to move?”

“Yes, I promise.” 

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

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

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

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

His face softens. “Of course I did.”

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

You don’t think you ever will.

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

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

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

“Always,” he promises.

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

“And did you?”

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

“Of course.”

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

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

“No.”

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

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

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

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

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

“What?”

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

“Go. To. Sleep,” Morpheus commands.

“Ugh, you’re no fun!”

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

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

You’re asleep before your head hits the pillow.

[teejaystumbles]

When Hob woke up this morning he would never have guessed that by the end of the day he'd have his stranger standing in his kitchen, still looking at him like he's never seen Hob before, despite them having talked for two hours downstairs beforehand. "Shall I put the kettle on?"

[withoutyouimsaskia]

Don't Stop (Sandman One-Shot)

​GIF: Originally posted by @imironstark

Pairing: Morpheus/Dream of the Endless x AFAB reader

Summary: One-shot. Reader self-insert. Smut. You and Morpheus are in the exploratory stages of your relationship. Morpheus asks to worship you, and all is going well. At least, that is, until you start to wake up...

Warnings: Minors DNI. Smut. Porn with plot. Kissing. Oral sex (AFAB receiving). Slight dominant Morpheus.

Word Count: 1.7k

A/N: So I watched Sweetbitter. With my partner. Maybe not the best idea because suppressing the squeaks of excitement whenever Tom came on screen was tough and not always 100% effective! The hyper fixation is still going strong... Hope you enjoy this one. All my love, Saskia xxx

Sandman Masterlist

-------------------------------------------------

It is only when the violent spinning not only stops but holds for several minutes after, does Morpheus make steps in allowing his guard to drop.

He straightens elegantly out of his crouching position, withdrawing his hands from the scree smattered earth. He looks to his left, to Lucienne, who is warily regarding the ground and sky, wondering if they might start to rapidly switch places again.

She meets Morpheus' gaze and adjusts her round-framed spectacles with a steady hand.

"I might be speaking too soon, sir, but I truly think it is over now."

Morpheus takes one last steely appraisal of the horizon, almost daring it to misbehave.

He nods once. "I believe you are correct, Lucienne."

"Will you be requiring anything else from me, my lord?"

"Not at present."

"Very well," Lucienne replies with a warm smile. "I will return to the palace now."

She does a little incline of the head in deference and goes to start the winding walk back towards the glowing lights of the Dreaming's seat of power.

Morpheus calls to his friend.

"I thank you for your persistence in supporting me to resolve these issues. I suggest you take some extra hours to rest."

"I suggest you do the same, sir."

Though her reply is innocuous, the knowing gleam in Lucienne's brown eyes hints at an alternative interpretation, one that Morpheus cannot help but notice.

It was becoming generally well known that he was in the early stages of courtship with a dreamer, you, and there was no doubt that Lucienne was aware of how far the relationship with you had recently gone.

He raises an eyebrow in response, earning a grin from Lucienne and then he watches her walk away.

Once alone, Morpheus allows his eyes to flutter closed as he sifts through the myriad of dormant minds and tunes into the space occupied by yours. He takes a reading of your emotions, thankful to find that you are contented and have not been rendered feeling neglected by his absence.

There's a faint undercurrent lingering below the surface level of your emotions that he is also able to lock on to given the familiarity that you share.

Desire.

They are present, filling you with neediness and longing.

A longing to be touched, to be touched by him.

Morpheus is with you in seconds, appearing in the doorway of the room you have chosen to conceal yourself in.

You are curled up in a large armchair by a panoramic window that frames the mountainous vista beyond. The torches that mark equidistant points along the bridge leading to the palace project a soft gleaming warmth over your skin. You are gazing softly at the landscape, the fingertips of one hand combing through your hair, the others trailing up and down your inner thigh.

Such an innocent yet provocative display. It makes Morpheus' voice drop to an even deeper and more sultry register than usual as he calls to you.

You are out of the chair instantly, meeting him at the threshold of the room. Your heart pumps out an allegro drum beat, the sound of the blood rushing in your ears like a waterfall.

You are pulled into a searing kiss, arms encircle your waist to ensure you are flush against his hips and chest. It is a relief that he is holding you in such a way for your knees are threatening to give out within seconds.

The power he has, in his body, his actions, through his words, in a metaphysical sense; you are helpless against them all.

When Morpheus pulls away from the kiss, you follow him on instinct, aching for more. He smiles faintly at your eagerness but maintains the gap in order to explain his length of absence.

"I must apologise, Y/N. The issue was a little more complex than Lucienne and I had anticipated."

He's looking down with a tint of shame in his aquamarine eyes.

You slide your hands up his forearms, gripping tightly and angling your head so you can capture his gaze.

"There is nothing to be sorry for. Your work and the safety of your dreamers take priority."

He simply nods. Your unwavering understanding is always on the side of overwhelming for him.

You register this in his stance.

"You feel a little tense. I can help with that if you want. Like I did last night?"

You move a hand up to stroke the hair on the back of his head. It is a form of touch that never fails to release tension.

Morpheus indulges in your attentions for a bit, leaning into you and sighing deeply, before staring at you directly with sudden seriousness.

"I cannot deny that what you did for me yesterday was beyond exquisite," He leans in to speak by your ear. "But it is my turn to worship you."

"Oh," you swallow down your surprise. "Okay."

Morpheus wastes no time in guiding you back towards the armchair and sits you on the very edge of the seat pad.

He carefully removes his long sweeping coat and then drops to his knees before you.

His rosy lips are parted, eyes dark pools, both standing out against his beautifully pale skin.

"Where can I touch you?" He asks urgently.

"Everywhere," you reply as the flutterings in your stomach warble your voice.

He begins by trailing his hands up your legs. The patterns he draws are intricate and intoxicating.

"May I have the honour of tasting you?"

"Yes," you consent, breathless already.

You remove your trousers and underwear in the same movement and allow Morpheus to adjust your position.

The image of him looking up at you with lust and intent as he parts your legs is immediately imprinted deep within your memories.

He trails innocent kisses up your left calf to your knee. A long-fingered hand is hooked under it and once Morpheus slips your leg over his shoulder, he continues his path along your inner thigh.

Wisps of his midnight hair tickle your skin and make you squirm in the most delicious way. You whimper when you feel his cool breath hit your pulsing core.

Morpheus speaks your name reverently, a taster of what was about to come.

He leans in the last few inches and kisses your vulva. You melt with an ecstasy-filled exhale. His tongue gently licks at your labia, encouraging them to part and expose your clit. He laps at you with precise strokes before sealing his mouth over the nub.

It's like a direct current has been shot into your body; you jolt into him, moaning his name with abandon.

He hums against you, lips curling into a naughty smirk. You are completely at his mercy and he knows it all too well.

He manipulates your clit between his plush lips and the pleasure reaches a higher ground.

"Whatever you do, please don't stop," you beg.

Morpheus obeys, slowly increasing and decreasing the pressure of his suckling until you are almost unable to think clearly anymore.

Then, suddenly, you are distracted by a strange feeling radiating through your body. You recognise it with immediacy. It's like you are being dragged upwards by a marionette string. You are waking up.

You stiffen, falling silent, hoping above all hope that if you stay still, you can stave off the pull back to consciousness.

Morpheus, noticing your change in demeanour, stops his attentions and pulls away.

He speaks your name in a caring tone, "Are you alright?"

You grab the arm rests in a further attempt to keep yourself in the Dreaming. The sensation isn't letting up.

You respond with haste, "I think I'm waking up. I don't think I can stop it."

Waking had been the cause of cutting short your time with Morpheus many times before. It was to be expected; you were a human being with things like sunlight and birdsong and routines to contend with. The worst had been mid-way through a conversation, one that you were able to pick up again the next time you passed the Dreaming threshold.

Right here while Morpheus was working on you so perfectly, however left you with one thought: Why did it have to be now?

Your surroundings flicker and all sound becomes warped. The support of Morpheus' body and the chair vanish.

"I'm sorry." They are the last words you speak before you disappear.

You come to in the semi-darkness of your bedroom. Your chest is heaving and wetness has spilled onto your pyjamas from the dream of Morpheus lavishing your aroused core.

Your phone is blasting out a morning alarm, its shrillness the clear root of you disappearing on him.

It turns out though, initially unknown to you, that Morpheus was having none of this separation business. That is until you notice him sitting between your splayed legs.

"Morpheus?! What are you -"

"You asked me not to stop, my dearest dreamer," he interrupts, pouring every ounce of seductive energy into the words as he can muster.

Morpheus' eyes bore into yours as he climbs up to fully straddle your body. He reaches over you to turn off the alarm with a precise tap on the screen of your phone. He takes a deep breath.

"Much better," he purrs. The pitch of his voice is pleasure enough on its own, even without the fact that his hips are subtly grinding against yours.

"Now, would you like to resume with what we were doing before we were so rudely interrupted by that repugnant tone?"

You nod.

"Verbal consent, please."

It's suddenly so hard to speak now he is in your bedroom, your domain. You hope that a clear display will be an acceptable alternative. You reach your hands down to rid yourself of your pyjamas only to have each wrist pinned either side of your head.

You gasp.

"I need to hear you say it out loud, Y/N."

Another wave of hot, stifling arousal is released between your legs. You shiver in reaction to it, to his dominance.

Your mouth is open but no coherent words leave it, just the starts of failed sentences. Morpheus comes to your aid:

"Will you allow me to taste you here, in the waking world, just as I did in my own realm?"

"Yes," you breathe. "Yes, Morpheus. Please. Put your mouth on me."

He hums his approval before lowering your shorts and beginning to feast on you once more.

---------------------------------------------------

Tag List: @herfantasyworldd @shadowqueen1318