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requested by: @atsmlevelmax, I sincerely hope you like this!
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pairings: Dream of the Endless x reader, Matthew x reader (platonic), Lucienne x reader (platonic), etc.
warnings: cursing. English is not my first language so there might be some grammatical errors
a/n: gif credits go to @leighanne
REQUESTS ARE NOW OPEN
Since having been granted immortality by Death and taking on the role of Queen of the Dreaming, your life had turned into a whirlwind of responsibilities and disturbances.
There were diplomatic meetings to attend, parts of your realm that needed some form of aid, matters of various entity that needed to be tended to, etc. It was you who occasionally went into the Waking World in lieu of your husband, and you were always accompanied by his raven —Jessamy, before Dream's imprisonment, and now Matthew.
In spite of the duties that came with such an important position, you had a 'human life'. Much like Hob Gadling, your husband's friend, you had a job and thrived amongst those of your kind — you taught history and archeology in various universities across Europe, something which made you incredibly happy since you had lived through many centuries.
These obligations sometimes kept you away from you and your husband's realm, but you always communicated with him either through Matthew or through dreams.
You were working on a paper when you realized what day it was. The month before you had forgotten to meet with Dream, but he had sweetly forgiven you saying that you would meet the following month.
Which was the day before the events we're recounting, much to your dismay.
For the second time, you had missed your date with the Lord of Dreams. You were unforgivable.
You cursed yourself before setting aside your work and walking into the Dreaming.
"My Lady Y/n" Matthew and Lucienne were the ones who welcomed you. Dream was nowhere to be seen, and the Librarian of the Dreaming was quick to explain the situation.
"Lord Morpheus has matters to attend to at the borders of the realm"
"Bullshit! Y/n, he's upset, he doesn't want to talk to you" Due to the amount of time the two of you spent together, Matthew had developed a familiar bond with you — so much so that he addressed you casually, like a friend rather than a monarch.
The two tried to explain how angry and upset your husband was, so you stated that you would not disturb him during your stay even though he was aware of your presence.
In the following days you spent your time walking around your realm, with Matthew giving you updates on Dream's whereabouts and mood.
On some occasions, you saw his silhouette around — in the library, for example, or in the throne room. But you dared not disturb him.
As a way of trying to gain his forgiveness, you left some gifts here and there — along with some letters you had written. You figured that it was the best way for you to convey your emotions without crossing the boundaries he had put down. In Matthew's opinion, your approach was working.
Fiddler's Green was the one who kept you company the most, besides Lucienne and your raven. He always gave good advice and provided the comfort you needed.
"I suggest you summon your husband" he once said, while you sat under a beautiful oak tree together "Though he feels resentful, he misses you. It hurts me to see my King and Queen suffer, there must be a way to mend what was broken"
As soon as those words left his mouth, you decided to summon your husband. Hopefully, Fiddler's Green was right and you would not anger Dream any further.
The way in which your consort looked at you when he appeared from the vortex of sand was, for a lack of better words, devastating. You slightly bowed your head down as to greet him, and he returned the gesture.
"You came"
"You called"
You restrained yourself from crying and began talking. "Dream, I know that I messed up. I should have remembered about our meeting — God, I was so disrespectful! There were so many things to do at once, I never even looked at the calendar. I'm so sorry. And I understand if you're still angry: I will depart from the Dreaming at once, if you wish"
"I would never ask my wife to leave me" he responded with the same calmness as always, though his eyes conveyed profound sadness and regret "I'm sorry for not visiting you, Y/n".
"And I you, Dream" you uttered.
There were a few seconds of silence before Matthew appeared, flying on your shoulder "Come on, Boss! Hug her, kiss her, do something! I can't put up with your brooding any longer, so put away your pride and give a sign of forgiveness to your wife!" he exclaimed.
Dream sighed, clearly torn about whether he was ready to properly forgive you. Nevertheless, his doubts waned by just looking at you once again.
You were just as exhausted as he was: this tantrum of his had gone way too far. The two of you clearly missed each other and couldn't be distant any longer, so he did what he had yearned to since you walked into the Dreaming.
He caressed your face with his hands, and though he tried to keep his emotions at bay, he kissed you — the longing and profound love you felt for one another finally finding an outlet— then hugged you like you were about to fade away at any minute.
You silently thanked Matthew and Gilbert (Fiddler's Green). You were definitely going to remember your date from that moment onwards.
Summary: Morpheus journeys to the waking world for The Corinthian, but when Roderick Burgess traps with a spell, it's up the the lady of The Dreaming to try and save her people. A soft song of a king and a queen. A dream and a star.
Warnings/ Tags: Established Relationship
[Series Masterlist]
[Next Chapter]
✦Chapter 1 - A Star's Fall ✦
It’s cold in The Dreaming.
The bolts on Dream’s helm chill your fingers. You trace the lines, following an intricate pattern of leather and bone and metal. The spine that protrudes from the snout curls around your lap. What an odd shape. It reminds you of a mosquito – the stuff of nightmares, indeed.
The steps to the thrones aren’t any better. The cold stone is freezing, with the edges digging into your legs. Yet, you stay seated, dressed in simple clothing. Such clothes aren’t suitable for a queen, but Dream isn’t exactly in ceremonial clothing either.
Dream places the ruby necklace around his neck. “You seem displeased with me.”
“Do I?” You tilt your head, smiling.
“Yes,” he says, and there’s a smile on his face that can barely be called one. At least he sounds amused. “Have I done something to gain your ire?”
“It is not me who seems . . . displeased,” you say, lightly. “The Dreaming can feel it, my dear. Every resident can feel The Corinthian’s absence.”
Dream stretches his hand out for you, close enough for you to see it as it is – An offering. You take it, and slip your cold fingers into his own. His hands are warm. It’s so strikingly different from the mood of The Dreaming.
He guides you up the steps to the throne, your hand gently resting against his own. The helm is secure around your arms, and you hold it tight as you climb the winding staircase.
His hold continues, even as you reach the platform of the thrones. Dream guides you to sit on his throne, pulling you away from your own, only releasing his hold when he’s seated you onto his seat. You hold on just a little longer, and tug his hand closer, pressing one, single, kiss around his fingers.
There’s a rare, but proper smile on his lips now.
Lucienne clears her throat, reminding you of her presence.
Right.
The concerns Lucienne voices hold no lies, but a king settled deeply into his way cannot see other paths. Still . . . it doesn’t hurt to try.
“Lucienne is correct,” you tell him, still tracing the lines on his helm. The stars above the throne room shine below you. So different from the ones you’ve painted across the sky. “The night is high in the Waking World. I can easily bring The Corinthian back. I am due for a visit soon — The stars . . . They . . . they call my name.”
“The Corinthian is my responsibility.” Dream stands tall, speaking to you with a voice that demands no arguments. “My duty.”
You sit tall on his throne, and do not dignify him with a response.
Dream leans forward, almost bowing before you.
The helm in your hold somehow becomes colder. Still, you bring the helm to his head, and place it on him until you could no longer see his eyes. There’s a small part of you that begs, yelling at you to rip it off his head.
Dream looks at you through the lenses on his helm. The weight of an Endless’ gaze is heavy, and this one never seems to look away. “Will you continue to be displeased with me?”
“You can rectify my displeasure when you return.” You press your lips on the helm, offering a bit of your powers to him. “The stars will guide your travels. I cannot do anything once you have arrived — You will be unprotected.”
You press your head against the helmet, letting your eyes flutter to a close.
“I will return,” he says, voice muffled through the helm.
“Let me come with you.”
Dream presses you back into his throne. “There is none I trust more with The Dreaming than you.”
Sand is thrown into the air. It grows and swirls, and it takes the king in its whirlwind.
The queen slumps around his throne, staring at the myriad of stars painted above by the king. “Be back soon.”
There are no stars in The Dreaming. The above, the blow, and the in-between — All are creations of Dream. That means so are the very stars above you. The Dreaming is a vast land; an infinite bubble separated from the universe that birthed you into existence.
The stars above the throne room glitter, each shining and flaring like an actual constellation . . . but you cannot feel the connection of the universe through them. The stars in The Dreaming are silent, a symbolic piece placed into the sky for those who built their life in its warmth, but you know better.
You lean your head on the armrest of the throne, allowing the growing strain on your neck to settle as you stare at these silent stars. The particular patter above the throne mimics the exact position the night you wed an Endless.
C . . .Cr . . .
It starts off small, impossibly small.
A single crack appears through the very fabric of this reality.
. . . Cr . . .
Crack!
The damage to the stars mimic shattering glass. The cracks spread through its very reality and onto the marble beams. The colors . . . they start to fade, growing dimmer with every passing second. The heart of The Dreaming stands proud, even as the edges of the land begin to crumble.
Yet, you do not move.
You stay on his throne, curling deeper into the seat. The weight of it barrels deep into your shoulders.
Footsteps sound echo around the chamber. It’s precise. It’s quick. It’s efficient. You do not need to turn to know who it is.
“My lady . . . ?” Lucienne calls out for you. She explains everything you already know. The Dreaming is dying – Fast. The land is turning grey with each tree dying, its leaves returning to dust. The stars . . . they’re dimming. “I’ve gotten reports all over the area. The residents are in a state of panic, and with lord Morpheus gone—”
“A moment, Lucienne.” Your voice is soft as you lie listlessly on his throne, but it still carries the weight of it. “It seems . . . something has happened to my husband. A few moments, that’s all.”
Lucienne lowers her gaze. “Yes, my lady.”
A moment, that’s all you really need. Just . . . a short . . . moment.
The Dreaming is impossibly cold now, and the chill settles into your bones as you descend the steps to the throne. You stare ahead; gaze locked to the impossibly long hallway. You don’t think your heart could take seeing it decay any further.
Lucienne follows when you walk past her.
“The residents are ordered to the palace immediately,” you say, keeping your back towards her. This isn’t the time to break, not when The Dreaming and its people rely on you. “This is the heart of The Dreaming – it will be the last to decay. Once it is safe, they are free to return to their homes.”
“What will you do?”
You continue walking, even as Lucienne stops following. “Change.”
The hallways of the castle open up to you. The stones are not as vibrant anymore nor are the painting on the wall. The Dreaming is decaying. Its truth settles deep into your bones. You walk across the winding halls until you reach the private quarters. It’s a single door etched into the wall of an infinite hallway.
It recognizes your touch, and it opens to you with a single push.
There’s a book tossed into the little nook by the window. It’s where you were lounging this morning as Dream read its contents to you.
Who will read to you now?
A mug stands on the table, forgotten. You told Dream you would have it removed the night before. There’s no one left to remind you.
You run your hands across the table, glancing at all the items – some yours, some his, some you do not know who it belongs to.
“Where are you?” You whisper into the room, hoping for a response.
It never comes.
Lucienne makes a tally of all the residents in The Dreaming, sighing with relief when every resident is accounted for. They settle into the great hall with a low murmur, asking questions she doesn’t know the answer to.
Merv tries his best to repair any cracks he sees, but it returns the moment he turns his back. Taramis offers a drink to everyone who comes in, and Lucienne knows it’s her way of reassuring the residents.
The decay has yet to destroy the castle, but the colors have already faded. Her once vibrant home is losing its warmth.
Lucienne is scared, and she does not know what to do. There are very few things that make her scared, and even less things she doesn’t know what to do about. She’s done something about the residents. She’s done something about their unease. She’s done something about their worries. But she cannot do anything about her dying home, or the state of her master.
The murmur dies down into complete silence.
Lucienne turns as the door to the grand hallway opens. She watches, as all of them do, as the lady of The Dreaming appears on the top of the steps, looking down at all of them. Dread hits her with the gentleness of a tidal wave, crashing against her over and over and over and over again – For the lady of The Dreaming is wearing her symbols of office.
You remove the hood from your head. It’s difficult to tell where you were looking, not with the blindfold wrapped around your eyes. There’s a moment, a small moment, that worry gnaws on Lucienne – You could trip with your eyes bound by a blindfold. It’s a foolish concern, of course, for the vision of a Celestial is not limited by something as trivial as eyes.
The residents of The Dreaming all stare at their lady . . . their queen. All look to her for guidance as their homes continue to decay.
You do not speak a single word.
You do not need to.
For Lucienne knows that stars do not speak when they guide – They shine like a beacon across the dark night.
You descend the steps in silence, and Lucienne swears she sees stardust trail behind you. All heads bow as you walk past. They do not rise, not until the doors to the castle close. Only Lucienne rises her head and follows after you.
It’s difficult . . . more than difficult if you were being honest, downright impossible if you were really being honest . . . to see The Dreaming in this state. You do not let your home’s decay stop you.
Lucienne follows you across the bridge, and through the decay, and out the ivory gates. The sound of crashing waves is a small comfort. It temps you to enjoy its shore, but you walk past the sand and head through the pier.
You reach the end of the pier, watching the deep waters swirl with the dreams of mortals. Only then do you turn. “My loyal librarian,” you say, smiling. “Have you come to see me off?”
Lucienne glances at the waters below. It’s getting wilder. “Will you be getting lord Morpheus?”
“There isn’t time.” You do not know why you were stalling. Maybe . . . just maybe . . . it’s time to accept that you were frightened.
“How about his siblings?” she says. “Or, even yours.”
“When we were wed, Destiny left me a gift.” You pull the hood over your head. “It was just a couple words strung together . . . I didn’t understand what he meant until now.”
“I don’t understand.”
“A Celestial holds great power,” you tell her, playing with the ring around your finger. “It’s nothing in the face of an Endless, but it should be enough.”
Lucienne stares at you, searching for eyes she cannot see. “Did Destiny foresee this?”
“It doesn’t matter now.” You stare ahead, looking at where your home decays. “Dream is out there, cut off from The Dreaming. That is why it is dying, but he is The Dreaming, and The Dreaming is him. If something happens to our home, I fear it might . . . ”
You cannot finish your sentence.
“Those waters were not meant for you.” Lucienne takes a step towards you. “My lady, it could kill you if you throw yourself into it.”
“I cannot let my home be destroyed, nor can I allow the waking world to suffer any longer” you say. “I can hear it, Lucienne. The universe is crying.”
“I am begging you to think about this for a moment,” Lucienne says. “You have been away from the waking world for some time now.”
“I am a Celestial.” You stand proud, staring her down. “I am every star in the universe – every single one that has ever been made, and every single one that will ever be made.”
“But you are not in the universe, you are in The Dreaming, cut-off from the cosmos.” Lucienne takes another step closer. “If we lose you –”
“I will not repeat myself.”
“Very well, my lady.” Lucienne bows. “I apologize for speaking out of turn.”
You pull her into a hug, wrapping her deeply into your body. “You have nothing to apologize for,” you say. “This is not your fault.”
Lucienne takes a moment to answer, and you do not mention the tears you see pricking her eyes. “Is there any way I could help?”
“A small favor is all I need.” You slip your ring off your finger, and wrap it around her hand. “He will return . . . I’m not sure if I will.”
There’s a pleading look on Lucienne’s face. It almost makes you turn back.
“Go back to the castle.” You turn your back towards her, facing the water. “I leave The Dreaming to you until its master returns.”
You wait until Lucienne is barely a spec of dust, and then some more. Only then do you reach for the waters, watching its ripples flow across the surface. There really is no point in delaying the inevitable, not when your home is decaying.
“You are my home, and you are hurting.” You whisper into the water. “Your master left me his authority. Heed to my command – Let me help you.”
The water ripples once . . . twice . . . thrice. In the water, a projection of Dream appears on the reflection. You dip your hands into the water. A shadow of a grasp brushes your fingers. It clamps down on your wrist, and pulls you into its waters.
The trees bloom.
The colors brighten.
The cracks mend.
Lucienne tries to enjoy the sight around her. She digs deep into her to find the joy, but . . .
It seems . . . It seems all she can find is nothing.
Morpheus was in a mood, today, it seemed. The castle was dead silent upon your arrival and Lucien had greeted you instead of your dark-haired, silver-eyed Endless. The librarian was as kind and soothing as always and offered a thick-furred coat draped over her arm. You hadn't realized you were shivering until you accepted it.
“When he isolates himself like this,” she sighed, head shaking as she guided you down the spacious halls, “it tends to alter the Dreaming into…”
“A winter wonderland?” you hummed, nose nearly pressed to one of the mile-high windows. The frames of your glasses clicked against the translucent layer when you turned in an attempt to stare up at the snow-topped towers. “It's gorgeous out there!”
Lucien chuckled, pausing her steps once she realized you'd gotten sidetracked. “I was going to say an ice age, but your optimism is appreciated.”
“I'm just stating facts.” You turned away from the snowflakes coating the edges of the window to meet her gaze. “Why's he isolating himself?”
“Sometimes I feel it is a thing of the Endless, but my lord is particularly adept at falling into his work and further into himself.”
Your lips pursed at the thought of those molten eyes--the way his brow raised when he listened to you babble about the day’s events. He'd never seemed particularly distant. Maybe quiet at times but never unreachable.
In truth, you had known Morpheus barely a few months now. You hadn't expected to run into something so god-like from working at a pub under Hob, but you'd been seeing strange things your entire life. Hob liked to call it your “psychic sense,” but Morpheus had taken one look at you and waxed poetry about “seeing the veil as it was and not what it poses to be” or something similar. You'd zoned out a bit from how handsome he was but understood the gist of it.
Apparently one little joke about lucid dreaming was enough to draw an Endless to the lonely little nights in your head. Hob lost it when you mentioned it forever ago.
“Don't laugh! I feel like I pissed him off," you whined. "He shows up like every other week and judges me!”
“He is many things, including judgemental," Hob agreed over his coffee as you pulled down chairs and sliced fruit in preparation for the day ahead, “but he seems awfully interested in you. Best be careful. I can't go and lose my favorite worker, now.”
You weren't lost so much as drawn in by the beauty of the Dreaming, though perhaps that's what Hob had meant from the beginning.
Still, you desperately wanted to go out into that fluffy snow.
“So he's busy with dreams?” you asked Lucien, hands behind you as you marveled the detailed ceilings overhead. “Workaholic over the holidays?”
“My lord doesn't keep to annual holidays.”
“Oh, right, he's like...ancient." Lucien smiled and remained silent as any smart woman would. “Well, how long has he been isolating himself? Can he take a break?”
She waved hand deeper into the castle. “You may try, but don't be disheartened if he doesn't listen.”
The throne room doors didn't budge. You attempted to knock, swaying as you glanced around and pulled your gifted coat closer. You sniffed against the cold air and fixed your sliding glasses, huffing to yourself. Why you always dreamed with them on was anyone's guess.
“Morpheus?” you called out, voice echoing. “Or should I call you Boreas? The Dreaming’s been snowed in.”
Silence. You pressed your ear to the door as if it weren't made of thick, dream-induced material.
“You know, there's this thing called seasonal depression in my world—real tough stuff." You attempted to find a keyhole to stare through and found nothing. Even the the bottom of the door was tight and sealed. "You ever had hot cocoa? It's not a cure-all, but I like to think it's a good balm to the soul.”
You dragged your knuckles over the door, shivering at the chill emitting from it. Movement on your shoulder had you glancing down. The shadows of snowfall paraded over you gently from beyond the windows. Your feet itched.
“Or maybe some fun exercise?” you tried, lips close to the seam of the doors. “Ever made a snow angel?”
On the other side of those doors, a rare thing occurred: Dream of the Endless smiled.
His last meeting with Hob had been ordinary before the immortal man had raised his hand and waved you over. The Endless had seen his reflection before he had seen you—a wonder behind wire frames.
Morpheus had visited his old friend some days ago, asking after you, about your talent and how it brought you to his pub.
“She took one look at me,” he chuckled, leaning in with a smile full of youth and wit, “and immediately asked me how old I was.”
“Astute,” said the Endless.
“To the point,” Hob corrected. “And if you don't speak up, she'll see right through you, too.”
Morpheus' eyes thinned, shoulders taught as he raised his chin.
“And what is there to see?”
The old but never aging man gave him a look. All that he meant to say in this one expression, however, was not something the Endless wished to perceive.
“Christmas is her favorite time of the year. She moved here to experience more ‘winter wonderlands.’” Hob leaned back, shuffling a stack of papers onto the table that had been sitting next to him, ignored. “Now, old friend, we both have work to attend to.”
Morpheus felt laid bare. The Dreaming had gone white before he had taken the time to think the conversation over. Mervyn’s complaints about the various boxes of Christmas decor echoed in the halls. Lucien had come asking questions. Morpheus could not explain it and promptly shut himself away in his throne room, hesitant and brooding.
And now you had waltzed in, asking him to join the gift of snowy weather he had unconsciously prepared for you days ago, hoping you'd drop by and simultaneously dreading it.
He wished he could blame Desire for this.
“Well,” came your honeyed voice through the doors, “if you’re just that busy, apologies for bothering you! If you need me I'll be enjoying the snow day.”
And so you did. He found himself watching from a terrace. He's not sure how you managed to cajole so many of the tenants of the Dreaming into the castle gardens, but the trap was laid and set off as soon as your snow ball hit Cain.
“Hey!” cawed Matthew from a tree. “Watch it! That one was the size of my head!”
“If any of you break a window, I'm leaving you out here to freeze,” Mervyn yelled from the entrance. His sputter that came after as well as your laughter. You had quite the aim, it seemed.
Morpheus watched from afar as you brought life to the castle, dragging Lucien from her library more than her own lord. Matthew liked you and spent whatever time he could berating his sire to “ask her out already, come on, man!”
Lucien had warned him about falling too deeply. Too quickly. You were human. Special, yes, but mortal at your core. He had ruined everything with the last woman that had stolen his heart.
“Lucien you gonna stand there all day?”
Morpheus blinked, raising a brow as you stared back towards the castle, grin cheeky and puffing out clouds of breath. You had lost the coat he'd ordered his librarian to give you.
“Come on! You can join my team,” you called to her.
“We're on teams?” Abel shouted before Caine brought an entire snowman’s head down on him.
“You have your fun,” said Lucien somewhere out of Morpheus’s sight. “I must return to my duties soon.”
“Is it oh so dire?” you asked, hands on your hips as you panted.
“I do not think—”
“Well, if it's not, I don't see why you can't spend a few minutes letting off some steam!”
“I have a terrible aim, I’m afraid.”
“Not as bad as mine. Did you see how long it took me to hit everyone?” You scooped a handful of snow up from the ground, forming it. “Tell you what, if I hit you from here you’re obligated to hit me back.”
“Now, that's not—”
“1, 2, 3, go!” you sputtered, arm a flash of movement. The ball sailed far too high. Snow exploded over the lip of the railing, coating Morpheus.
Every single jaw dropped as they spotted him. Silence leveled the gardens. Every soul watching took a breath and looked from you to their ruler.
“My bad!” you shrieked as he wiped his face clean with a slow hand. “I didn’t know you were there! I’m sorry!”
“Boss,” came Matthew as he landed on the railing. “You good?”
“I am fine, Matthew,” sighed Morpheus. “It’s only snow.”
“Well, we best get going before Goldie starts missin’ us!” Cain chuckled nervously, dragging a suspiciously still Abel behind him. The others scattered much the same, leaving you rubbing your wrists and shuffling in place.
“Uh, am I in trouble?” you called up. You blinked when you found the ruler of the realm missing and sighed, head dipping in disappointment. “I swear it was an accident,” you whined to yourself, sneezing.
You nearly collapsed in fright as something fell over your shoulders. You relaxed when you found it was only your coat. Then fair-skinned hands attached sent your heart spiking a second time.
“Thank you,” you mumbled, face hot as you slid your arms through the sleeves.
“I take it you’re enjoying the weather?”
You hummed, nodding quickly, wishing his voice was as cold as his expression. The warmth of his words left your brain a mess.
“Have you?”
He tilted his head at you.
“Have you enjoyed the weather, I mean? You created it, so I assume you at least put up with it, uh.” You were rambling and worse, you realized you were rambling which led you into a spiral. “But I heard you’ve been super busy and all, so of course you wouldn’t have gotten much time! I hope you’ve been taking care of yourself and all…”
You had to take a breath and Morpheus was just listening, a gentle smile on his face that left your eyes skating the ground. Why were you acting like this?
“It has been some time, hasn’t it?” he asked.
“Like a week, maybe. I think I got a little too used to you popping into my dreams.”
“Is that so?”
God, you were being far too honest, but you dug your feet in and joked around the crippling embarrassment.
“Yeah, makes a girl lonely, but I get it. You’ve got a realm to run, people to look after.” You shrugged, raising a hand up as the snow began to trickle down in soft white fluffs. “I’ve been enjoying our chats, though. You’re very interesting, Dreamlord.”
A soft quiet rose between the two of you, his dark, looming presence blocking the chilly wind. You glanced up to find those silver eyes glinting like shooting stars. You made a wish and held it close to your heart as Morpheus leaned closer.
“May I confess something?”
Your eyes widened, a gasp stuck in your throat. “Are you angry about the snowball?”
“No." He smiled through the word and how unfair for the culmination of dreams and nightmare to have such a dazzling face to pair with it.
“Oh, okay,” you sighed, hand to your chest. “That’s good.”
“I’ve taken some time to myself as of late as you said,” he continued. You nodded as he paused, eyes earnest. Morpheus felt laid bare once more. “However, it was not because of my responsibilities to the Dreaming.”
Your lips parted, taking a breath. “Is it something I can help with?”
He hummed, fingers ghosting the sleeve of your coat. “Perhaps, depending on your answer.”
“Answer?” you mumbled, half listening now that he was so close to touching you. Was the coat weird? Was this just something he did when he spoke to people?
“If I might have the chance to court you.”
The old language went in one ear then out the other before backtracking. You stared at his hand, taking a choked gasp before raising your head to look him in the eye. He looked so effortlessly put together, long eyelashes catching snowflakes, lips rosy. And there you were, mouth agape and glasses fogging up.
“Uh, me?” you echoed, quickly cleaning your glasses to give yourself something to do and not simultaneously combust in the dream world.
“You,” he said.
“But I’m just…well,” you shrugged as you fixed your glasses back over your nose, “slightly less normal than the next mortal, I guess. And you’re…higher than a god.”
He tilted his head, brow raised. “Does it scare you?”
“The ghost that haunted my bathroom when I was eight scared me,” you admitted candidly. “You make me very very nervous. I feel like I’m more court jester than courting material.”
That pulled a real, two-second chuckle from him. You knew what winning the lottery felt like, suddenly.
“I don’t have much to offer besides what you’ve seen,” you breathed, “but I don’t want to say no.”
“Then don’t,” he murmured, cold hand finding yours and warming it with whatever magic he had coursing through his blood.
“What if you get bored?” you whispered, every hair on end as he pulled you closer. His own trailing coat of ink wrapped around you.
“The things your mind has created, the honesty you allow everyone,” he said, chest grazing yours, “it never ceases to surprise me. Boredom is the least of my worries. I fear you’ll find more problems with me.”
“I do worry about your isolation habits,” you admitted, smiling when he hummed and glanced away.
“I promise to not disappear for long periods, then.”
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Eternal dreams by @xarniae
↳ “ After falling into a coma you find yourself stuck in the dreaming and in love with the Lord of Dreams, and when you eventually awake you leave him in despair. ”
↳ Chapters: 2/2
Imagine accidentally summoning Morpheus by @undiscovered-horizon
↳ "The cardboard box had your name written on it in sharpie and judging by the amount of dust collected on the lid, it must have been waiting for you for at least a decade."
↳ Chapters: 2/2
Imagine being the one who releases Morpheus by @undiscovered-horizon
↳ “Never once did you consider that living would be so physically difficult so early.”
↳ Chapters: 7/7 (added: Jul 30th, 2024)
Today I bury you in me by @the-darklings
↳ “ A cursed mortal, a lonesome Dream Lord, and a story spanning one thousand years. ”
Note: This is a spin-off chapter somewhere in between Bound in Eternity events, but it can also be read as a standalone story.
Pairing: Morpheus x wife!reader
CW/TW: fluff
You wake before you understand anything at all.
Not to fear.
Not to dreams.
Just… to warmth.
Your body is wrapped in quiet heat, in something solid and unmovable and endlessly familiar. Cool dark fabric brushes your thigh — no, not fabric — skin. You shift slightly, instinctively curling into it.
An arm tightens around your waist.
Not possessive.
Just certain.
You do not open your eyes at once.
You listen.
To the hush of something vast beyond the room.
To the soft breath warm against the back of your neck.
To the steady, impossible reality of him behind you.
Morpheus.
You smile before you even see him.
You move just enough to turn in his hold, slow and careful, as if the moment itself might shatter if you rush it. When you finally open your eyes, he is already watching you.
Of course he is.
Morpheus lies on his side, close enough that you can feel the quiet heat of his body, his dark hair loose against the pillow, his expression not the face of a King —
—but of a man who does not expect anything to be demanded of him right now.
His hand rests against your hip, steady, warm, real.
“Good morning,” you whisper.
His gaze softens.
“You have returned to yourself,” he says.
You reach up, brushing your fingers against his cheek. He does not flinch. Does not still.
He leans into your touch as though it were something he has been waiting for far longer than he will ever admit.
“I like waking up here,” you say.
“I know,” he answers.
It sounds dangerously close to fondness.
You shift closer, the sheet sliding down your bare skin without either of you attempting to pull it back. He is warm beneath your palm, his chest rising slow and steady. Human. Close. Yours.
You draw a lazy circle just over his heart.
“This is my favorite part,” you murmur.
“Which?”
“Before the day finds me.”
Something unreadable flickers across his eyes.
Then he speaks quietly — carefully.
“This morning,” Morpheus says, “I will only be yours.”
It is not a vow.
It is something much more fragile than that.
You lean forward and press your forehead into his chest, smiling.
“You belong to me only until I ask for coffee.”
His brow furrows.
“…Coffee.”
“Yes. The human ritual of survival.”
He exhales softly through his nose.
“It always sounds violent when you describe mundane things.”
You shift back and grin at him.
“Can you make me some?”
His expression becomes painfully, tragically blank.
“Define… make.”
You laugh.
“You put beans in a thing, and hot water happens, and then life becomes worth living again.”
Morpheus watches you carefully.
“…This sounds… unreliable.”
You sit up slightly, the sheet slipping lower without thought.
“Come on,” you urge. “I’ll show you where it is.”
He starts to move.
Then hesitates.
Reaches for his robe.
“No,” you say immediately.
His eyes flick back to you.
“No?”
You shake your head with a lazy smile.
“Don’t ruin the aesthetic. Go like that.”
He is very still.
Then, quietly:
“I am not dressed.”
“I know.”
Something dark and deeply amused stirs behind his eyes.
“…So be it.”
He rises from the bed without ceremony, unapologetically bare in the dim blue hush of the room, his long silhouette crossing the stone floor like something unreal and very, very inappropriate for anyone wise enough to be in charge of realms.
You grin into the pillow.
You hear distant movement.
A cupboard opening.
Closing.
Silence.
Then:
“…Where,” Morpheus calls gravely, “are the beans.”
“In a jar.”
“…What is a jar.”
You cover your mouth, laughing.
After several suspiciously loud sounds and what might have been the accidental creation of steam where steam should not be, Morpheus eventually returns… holding a cup.
It is steaming.
It is dark.
It is possibly alive.
“Here,” he says solemnly, offering it like an ancient artifact.
You take a sip.
Pause.
“…Morpheus.”
“Yes?”
“You have invented suffering.”
He studies your face critically.
“Too strong.”
“It tastes like regret.”
He frowns.
“I will adjust.”
You simply laugh and pull him down onto the bed beside you, one hand curling around his wrist.
He sits.
Close.
Still undressed.
Unbothered.
You lean against him as you drink, slowly, carefully, like it might suddenly attack.
“It’s still perfect,” you decide.
He looks mildly offended.
Then relieved.
Then soft again.
“I am pleased.”
You sigh into his shoulder.
“I saw your sister not long ago.”
His posture stills — only a fraction.
“Death.”
“Mm.” You smile faintly. “She was… wonderful.”
Something in him eases.
“I am glad,” Morpheus says quietly, “that she was kind to you.”
“She always is.”
He looks at you then — with something that is not fear, not duty —
—but gratitude.
Eventually, you both dress.
Not because you must.
Just because the moment shifts.
You walk hand-in-hand toward the heart of the Dreaming, where corridors open into quiet and light gathers like it has nowhere else to be.
The world bends gently around you — not in awe — but in recognition.
In the distance:
“HEY, BOSS— oh. Yep. You’re together. Obviously.”
Matthew lands nearby with the soft thump of feathers and terrible timing.
“Do either of you know it’s disgustingly early, or are you just ignoring society completely now?”
You smile.
Morpheus does not flinch.
“You are loud,” he says mildly.
“And yet you keep me.”
You pass into the library.
Lucienne looks up from a stack of dream-bound volumes and blinks once in surprise.
"You're early," she says mildly.
You smile, already half-turning back toward Morpheus.
"Actually… I decided not to work today. I just ran in for a second."
Lucienne studies you — the soft quiet in your eyes, your fingers still loosely laced with Morpheus’s — and then smiles in a way that is almost fond.
"Of course you did," she murmurs.
"Then I won’t pretend I didn’t see you."
Morpheus inclines his head once in silent understanding.
And just like that, the library lets you go.
You thank her.
Morpheus inclines his head.
And then it is just you again.
You walk hand-in-hand into the Dreaming with no destination at all.
The world opens around you slowly — not as a realm, not as a kingdom — but as a place that simply knows your names.
Stone paths curl beneath your bare feet, soft with memory. Lantern-light drifts lazily through air that smells faintly of rain that never truly falls. Somewhere in the distance, the sea exhales — slow and patient — just as he does at your side.
"Is it always this quiet?" you ask.
"Only when I allow it to be," Morpheus answers.
You tilt your head, watching the faint glow move across his profile.
"And you allowed it for me?"
He looks at you then — not as a ruler, not as an Endless — but as someone standing uncovered in his own dream.
"I would allow it for you always," he says.
Your hand tightens in his.
He slows just enough for you to notice.
Lifts your hand.
Presses his lips to your knuckles — soft, unhurried, as though nothing in existence could possibly be more important than this one small gesture.
You walk for a while without speaking, your steps unhurried, your breathing slowly finding the same rhythm.
The Dreaming does not whisper prophecy.
It does not demand.
It does not warn.
It simply holds.
Just a morning that belongs to you.
And a King who has, for once, laid his crown down somewhere you do not need to see.
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PLEASE ENGAGE IF YOU LIKE IT! Your comments, thoughts, and reactions mean everything. This story truly lives only when someone else falls into it with me.
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CHECK MY OTHER SANDMAN FANFIC
Summary: In another angelic life, you were promised to him. Before the promise could be fufilled you reincarnated into a mortal. Unable to stay away, Morpheus goes out to find you in your new form. Searching centuries for his princess. Needing to start over in the hope you would remember your past life. Learning to care for him as well, you invite him into your dreams for something that might fufill his yearning.
“Princess!” The nickname seeped with a husky breath. Shock slowly settled in your eyes, letting your gaze shift thoughtfully from left to right. Slowly turning around to the one carried your nickname with utmost adoration. Gaze drifting upwards to the lord of dreams and nightmares.
Standing amidst the woven of hastened soldiers. Buzzing around for armor and weapons. You hadn’t imagined him here. Not in the realm of angels. His lips parting breathlessly. You knew he shouldn’t be here. Not right now. With an ache in your heart, you tore your gaze away from him.
Reaching for a weapon of choice. Sensing the smallest of shifts in the atmosphere. Barely needing to look for you knew it was him. “You shouldn’t be here.” You let out, storing the sword away by your hip. Turning your back on him. “Please.” Morpheus let out beggingly.
You reached for a shield, hand interrupted by his finding steadiness on yours. “I am going, Morpheus.” Stating clearly to him there was no changing your mind. “If you leave, you might never return.” He answered pleadingly. Hoping get through to you for this pointless war. A war angels would fight for mortals.
Turning your posture more towards him, you reached a hand up to his cheek. Closing his eyes, he leaned in to your touch. Taking in every detail of it. “Who will I be, if I stay?” Your lips formed for you could never walk away from your oath. An angel’s oath. Morpheus slowly opened his eyes once more. Cupping your jawline with his hands.
“This shall not be our last.” Whispering as he drew near. Kissing your lips tenderly. Allowing his lips to trace every detail. Lips lasting in touch as long as they could when the kiss broke off. Morpheus and your foreheads touched. “Princess.” Speaking the nickname he had for you one last forgiving time.
Stepping back, you drifted away from his touch. Slipping though his fingers with a heavy sigh. Watching you join your fellow angels. Stepping out of those doors to ascend to the heavens. Sky rumbled. Clouds flickering with light that danced within them. Screams and shouts even overpowering the loudest of rumbles.
Screaming loud, your spear pierced one. Wings flapping strongly. Launching back, avoiding one of your falling sisters. Spiraling down to the fallen battlefield. Shouting loud with tears in your eyes, you reached your hand to her.
A moment of focus loss. Body receiving the impact from above. Gasping loud as the creature was on your back. Sending you down spiraling. Reaching behind you, you tried to grab it. Snatch it off your back before both would fall to your eternal rest. With loud groans, you managed to grab a hold of its ankle.
Flinging the creature off your back into the skies. Wings flapping strongly, you found balance once more. Hearing a loud scream, your head turned immediately. Seeing one of your elderly sisters struggle with a devil. Dipping face down, you dove in the wind. Sword out. Calling it out when you wanted to pierce him.
The devil’s head snapped your way, blocking your weapon with one of his own. A clash of metal, repeatedly. Fighting for dominance. Warring the devil out. He smiled exhaustingly at your raised sword. Crying out, jamming your hands down. Breath suddenly choking in your throat.
Lowering your gaze at the metal tip, dripping with blood. Morpheus clutched his heart, huffing breathless. “My lord?” Lucienne called out in a panic. The lord’s body gently rocking with rushed pants. Lucienne blinked and her lord had vanished.
Fluttering his eyes open, they widened with shock. Barren wasteland painted with red. “Y….” Your name thickening in his throat. Hazily he ventured forwards. Glancing left and right at the fallen bodies. Angels and devils tangled up. His footsteps became weak with each taken one.
Keeping a hand on his lower stomach. Stumbling through barren wasteland. Breath choking with the clear ache in his heart. “Y/n!” He screamed out. Rushing over to you. Diving to his knees to be at your side.
“Y/n…Y/n…princess.” Throat forming a knot, hard to swallow. Slowly rolling you over to your back. Sputtering out sobs. Carefully picking you up onto his lap. Bringing your foreheads to touch. “My love…my eternal love…”
Brushing his hand repeatedly down your cheek. Head lifting up to the heavens, he roared out a scream. A cry of pain able to shake the heavens and earths. His eternal promise.
Eyes flashed open at the annoyance of the alarm clock. Turning your head, you noticed the time. “Sh*t.” Cursing, slapping the alarm desperately to silence. Jumping out of bed, you hurried yourself to get dressed. Little time for breakfast, you picked up a cup of coffee on your way to the door from the counter.
Face turning sour at the cold, tasteless yesterday’s coffee. Snatching your purse by the door, you rushed out. Rushing down the flight of stairs onto the streets. Groaning at yourself for you surely remembered to have set the alarm right. Running, you tried to make something of your hair.
Brushing through people that were on a slower pace. You couldn’t delay. There had to be speed and swiftness. Taking a quick glance left and right, you ran up to the cross walk. Ready to sprint over, caught by sturdy arms before your foot could leave the paveway.
“Whoah, whoah, whoah.” The man let out. Loud honking followed like a trail behind him. Fading away around the corner. Staring up to the man, you stared baffled back at him for a moment. Shoving yourself off him a second later. “I am in a hurry!” You shouted at him.
The man laughed in disbelief at your reaction. “You were nearly run over by a car!” He replied at your carelessness. “Well you have my utmost thanks, but I must go.” Tossing him a sarcastic smile. Checking quickly again, you stepped onto the cross walk.
Barely making it one stripe further, feeling the sudden tug on your wrist. “Princess.” The man said breathlessly, pulling you away from the street. “What did you just call me?” You responded, slightly offended. He immediately moved his hands up. “I…I am sorry.” Saying with a shy chuckle.
“It is dangerous if you are this hastened.” He cleared up. With a wary expression, you pulled your wrist free. “I’ll be sure to tell my mother.” Jabbing at his concern with sarcasm. “Y/n…” Your name breathlessly in his voice. Another pull at your wrist to keep you in place.
A distant whisper in the fleeting air. “I’ll take you…” Saying with haste. You eyed the man up and down. Taking a step back for there was no way you would go with a total stranger. “No thanks.” You politely informed him. “You are in a rush and I have a way of transportation.”
The way he formed the words made you perk your eyebrow up. Checking your phone, you knew you had been wasting precious time. Hoping he wouldn’t end up being a serial killer, you gave in. Responsibilities winning over fear.
“You better not try anything.” Giving him a hard slap on his chest with the back of your hand. He bowed his head, hand near his heart. Gesturing at you to follow him to a black car just up ahead. “Who even are you?” You questioned, getting in his car. He curled up a smile. “Morpheus.”
Adjusting his front mirror. “And you Princess are Y/n.” Stepping on the gas, making you fling to the back of your seat. “Stop saying that!” You called out, holding on tight to the car door. The car came to a roaring stop by your workplace.
“I’ll come pick you up.” Morpheus spoke, leaning down to your seat. His words cut off with no response by the loud shutting of the door in his face. Watching you hurry inside through the window.
Batting his gaze down, he exhaled deep. He had hoped his name would jog up some of your memories. Memories perhaps completely forgotten. Yet his eternal promise was not. Still strong even within this new life of yours. Reincarnated as a human. His once promised angel.
“Morning Princess.” Morpheus spoke with a cheeky smile. Rolling your eyes, you accepted the cup of coffee from him. “Will you stop that?” Snapping at him. Morpheus removed himself from against the brick wall, falling in step with you. “Not for an eternity.” He responded teasingly.
Having lowered himself a bit to you, before brushing past you. Scoffing loud, you could strangle him for being so annoying. Always princess this and princess that. Morpheus slowed his walk down so you could easily keep up. “Don’t you have places to be?” You asked with a quirked up eyebrow.
“Why, are you trying to get rid of me Princess?” Chuckling deeply at his own amusement. Rolling your eyes, you gave him a playful shove. There was soft cawing, catching your attention. “Oh look, Matthew is requesting you.” Gesturing at the crow, circling above your heads.
Morpheus glanced briefly up to the crow. “That is not Matthew, Y/n.” He simply responded. Smirking at your annoyed expression. “Are you truly trying to wimple me off, Princess?” Giving your shoulder a little nudge with his own.
“Maybe.” You responded with a cheeky smile. Glancing bashfully away. “Now I regret telling you, if you only are to use this for made up excuses.” Morpheus sighed out, tugging his hands in his coat’s pocket. “I was only joking!” You blurted out, not wanting to offend the lord of dreams and nightmares.
A smirk curled up at the corner of his lips. Turning his head to you. “So was I.” Saying in a husky voice. That flashy smile he teased you with made you swallow softly. Wondering how he got so easily under your skin. Constant teasing and flirting that your heart had begun to ache for his. Filling a hole that had been since you were born.
That night, you quickly found sleep. Drifting through the dreaming world where all mortals would go. Vision blurry trying to pin-point at a certain desire from within. Shuddering out an exhale, the vision cleared. Eyes slowly opening to a wondrous castle.
Turning around to look at every corner. The dress brushed over the floor with every turn. Fabric soft in your hands. “Y/n.” Upon hearing your name, you took a breathless step back. Moving more back at the appearance of Morpheus from behind a pillar. He took a tentative look around. Curling up a smile at your choice of dream.
“What…what are you doing here?” You answered pantingly. Batting his gaze down, he curled up a smile. “You wanted me here.” He responded stepping closer to the center you found yourself in. Thoughtfully you tried to recall why. “Princess.” His voice deep with a flinter of cherished melancholy.
Bringing your chin up by his thumb. Wanting your eyes to meet. Those forgotten eyes he had waited for a very long time. Swallowing softly, you felt yourself be compelled to lower your gaze to his lips. A husky chuckling breath teasing you.
“Morpheus…” You whispered out. Shushing you lovingly, he cherished your face in his hands. Brushing a stray hair aside. You rested a hand to the back of his neck. Feeling your heart thump loudly in your chest. Fighting for freedom. Getting lightly on the tips of your toes, you reached up to him.
Lips parted with a shuddering breath. Nearing as his breath intertwined with yours. Joining your other hand by his neck for support. Lips prickling with senses. Entangling your fingers by his neck, giving him the slightest push forwards. Eyes closed for a touch. A touch of air.
Fluttering your eyes open, your surroundings had changed. Sitting up, running a confused hand through your hair. Fingers touching your lips for they had not been satisfied. Reality settled in, making you groan loud, falling back in your pillow. Whilst getting dressed, a sudden thought crossed your mind.
He was the lord of dreams and nightmares. What if whatever you dreamed about wasn’t just fiction. What if he truly had been there…in the flesh. Humiliation overcame you. Feeling stupid and ashamed you had your hidden desires swirl to the top.
Hastening out the door, you hoped a bit of fresh air would do you good. Hastening across the street. Taking a different route to try and avoid him. Clearing a path between bushes, you forced your own path to the park. “Y/n.” Startled by his sudden presence with you in the bushes.
Panting loud, you ignored him, forcing a way through. Stumbling into an open grassfield. Looking over your shoulder, you wanted to see if he was in pursuit. “Y/n.” Announced by your side. Yelping loud at his sudden presence to your left.
Panicking, you took a run for it. Running past benches towards the playground. “Y/n stop.” Morpheus spoke, standing behind the empty swings. Avoiding his gaze intently, you nearly tripped over your own feet, changing quick directions.
“This is pointless.” He sighed out, appearing right in front of you. Shrieking loud, you stumbled back. Falling down. Morpheus bent through his knees, offering you his hand. Swallowing hard, you avoided his gaze. Aware he was right. Running away was pointless, for he would always find you.
With a heavy sigh, you accepted his hand. Looking down. “I have to be somewhere.” You let out, turning away from him. “No, you don’t.” Morpheus replied, tugging at your arm. You hated that he knew your plans and daily life. You felt his hand cherish over yours.
“Why are you avoiding me, Princess?” Trying to get your attention. You paused, muscles contracting at that nickname. The one you had heard numerous times with no reason. Batting your gaze down, you let yourself go. Wanting to be close to him.
Holding the back of his neck, you gave that little push to shove him forwards. Your lips catching his. Deepening the touch before following his movement. Caring little for who you would condemn for this kiss between a mortal and an endless.
