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pagiecakewritesstuff · 1 year

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11. MORPHEUS|DREAM OF THE ENDLESS X READER/OC

SERIES MASTERLIST

Past the rampage outside the palace, the cellar was eerily quiet, not even the screams of the dreamfolk could penetrate the thick underground walls. The damp air clung to my hair and clothes, as my cloak dragged after me, heavily on the floor. The two gods wrecking the gardens above ground escaped a while ago and declared their rule over the Dreaming, throwing its rightful ruler into the dungeons. I was inclined to ignore the situation for a while, hoping that Morpheus has everything in his grip, but alas, he was still too young. I had no doubt in his capabilities, but governing a realm was completely different to protecting it. This was a steep learning curve. I came to see him, though bound by ancient laws I wasn’t about to help him, but I had to know if he still had the spirit to fight on.

There was only one cell. It's not often that someone has to be imprisoned in the Dreaming, and there are far better methods for holding someone. Yet they still decided to simply shut him behind bars. How beast-like.

He huddled in the corner, a fuming pile of black fabrics and chains. He was immensely angry and scared, but the ice of his desperation broke as soon as he caught sight of me. He leapt towards the door, a cuffed hand reaching through the iron bars. On the wall behind him, I noticed signs of the Endless, scratched into the stone. An ankh, a sword, a heart, a ring, a flower. He improvised a gallery for himself, unable to access his own. He tried to call his siblings.

“You came at last.” Even at a few thousand years old he still retained some of his boyish charm from before the time of his first love. Only now deep lines of loss and heartbreak grooved his elegant face.

“I’m not here to help.” His hopeful expression dropped and suddenly I realized that I don’t remember the last time I saw him. “You know I can’t.”

��Of course. Neither can my siblings.”

“Have you tried all of them?”

He shamefully looked away.

“Not Desire.”

There was bad blood between Dream and Desire, I had no need to ask why he didn’t call on his sister-brother sooner.

“You have to put aside your disagreements, otherwise you will rot in this cell for an eternity.”

“Or…”

“Again, I’m not about to break the rules.”

His hand fell limply to his side.

“Why you came then?”

“I felt like I have to be here. It's been a while since I saw you too.”

The thousands of stars in his eyes flickered then died down. He pulled his tattered regal attire tighter around himself, the fabric making a tearing sound in protest.

“You felt like you have to be here? Did Destiny set this up after he was unable to answer my call?”

“No. We’ve been distant, he has a lot to do. It’s based on pure instinct that I’m here.”

He quietly mulled over what I said, then returned to the corner of his cell, looking at the cravings that the etched into the wall longingly.

“Tell me, will I ever get out of here?”

“I believe so, though I cannot say for sure. The future is not mine to know.” I leaned closer to the bars, so I could link my sight with his. “But the lesson you will learn from this is important, never forget it. You might need it in the future. Call Desire.”

To my surprise, my personal room in the Dreaming is still intact. It’s a time capsule now, buried in the castle, collecting dust. I was free to leave and find it, the daemons don’t care much where I am as long as I don’t travel between planes. Invisibly the collar still clutches my neck and from time to time a strong hand yanks on it, checking if I’m still in line.

I grab the duvet and pull it off the mattress, creating a swirl of dust that gently dances towards the floor in the light streaming through the window that I just opened recently. The air is heavy in here with the musky traces of loneliness and tears. Did he ever come here to think about me? It’s strange that he didn’t order Mervyn to demolish it after I went missing.

Even my writing desk is here, tucked into a safe corner, away from the sounds and wonders of the Dreaming so I could concentrate. I should work now, but I can’t bring myself to do it. My mind is elsewhere, far, far away. Giving up I set my pen down, so it’s there as a reminder to do my job. But I will deal with it later.

Suddenly through the keyhole, a tiny dancing flame skips into the room, not bigger than the tip of my finger. It’s curiously bright, and only now do I realize that the sun had dipped below the horizon. The flying cluster of flames beckons and I follow without a question. It takes me through a labyrinth of hallways, big and small ones alike, adorned with framed artworks and delicate wooden inlays. I know where we are going, and we stop in front of the exact door I was expecting. The flame dissipates.

My hand hovers above the handle before I push it down the lock clicks open as a wave of darkness pours over the sill. This shadow of the night sky envelopes me as I enter.

He stands by his bed, his back turned to me, like a column of stars and bright galaxies in space. This is his personal chamber, one I’ve visited many times before. It looks the same as the day he escaped his captivity. He didn’t even make the bed since, the wrinkles outline our forms tangled into each other on his first free day.

“You called me.” For a moment I wish he wouldn’t turn so that I don’t have to face his blazing eyes, but then he does. His pupils are two effervescent pits, muddled with anger, yet there is so much pain that he tries to cover, but it bubbles to the surface. Over his hazy eyes, his eyelids flutter, fighting an escaping tear. His chin dips before he looks up again. I weather his silence.

“A year.” He speaks finally. “More than that.”

I step over to the bed.

“I would apologise, but that would only incite your rage.” As I pick up the blankets his hand lashes out, but he retracts it almost immediately.

“Death knew.”

“She found it out by an accident. And I didn’t tell her the whole truth.”

His timbre is a searing whisper that slithers across the floor and bites at my heels.

“So what is the truth?”

Tentatively I let the magic that hides my chains go. Wearing it after all these months I feel bare without it, overly exposed, but this is nothing compared to what he had to endure, I remind myself. His lips part in shock and I take this moment to make the bed and smooth out our past outlines. He observes without a word.

“I never meant to hurt you, Morpheus. I know I did, but I wish I wouldn’t have.”

“Who did this?” I feel his looming breath tickling the nape of my neck. It melts away the touch of the iron collar in an instant.

“The past Hell Lord, Lucifer Morningstar.” I turn, our faces inches away from each other. “There is no way to reach them now. We all know what happened.”

“And your leash? Who holds it now?”

“Azazel. Your hospitality demands that you don’t hurt him while he resides within your walls.” His closeness is encapsulating, and all of a sudden the room evaporates around us, bringing back similar memories from the past. His breath hitches in his throat and he bows his head, hands fisting by his side.

“May I touch you?” Softly my words travel into his ears and Morpheus shudders.

“Yes.” He speaks to the floor. “You may.”

I gingerly place my fingers on either side of his jaw and almost immediately he leans into my palms, putting some of his weight onto me. His chest heaves as his heart crash against his ribcage with every beat. I’m no different.

“Look at me please.” Reluctantly he raises his chin, clouded eyes staring into my soul and I can see the stars twinkling in them. “Can you forgive me for the pain I have caused?”

“Only if you can forgive me for ever doubting you.” A tear trails down his cheek freely as we inhale each other's essence. His is dark, like burnt pine on a summer evening when the wind carries wildflowers across the valleys, but something more ethereal than that. His body is pressing against mine now, arms finding their way around my waist, and he just holds me, soaks me in. Due to him leaning against me my legs press against the bedframe. Morpheus is all pleading, a resonating shout bouncing around his soul, asking for what he couldn’t have until now. I offer him what he wants by angling myself in a way that he barely has to move to take it and against all of his desires he turns into a statue of disbelief. Shocked he pulls away, then comes back, testing me, eyebrows drawn together in a perplexed frown. His quick breaths skim over my lips and I can already taste his mouth on mine. I press my forehead against his, our skins burning up.

His kiss is tentative at first, barely a touch before he breaks it, franticly searching for my eyes. I know he understands when his lashes flutter as he cups my face between his elegant, long fingers and pulls me in, flush against his torso. A low moan sounds deep from his throat as he takes my lips again, gently, needly. I embrace him and we fall on the bed, he is over me, still soaking in every bit of contact he can, afraid that I can evaporate from his hold in any given second. He has to stop for air, his cheeks flushed, overflowing emotions radiating from him in waves.

“My Dream Lord.” Combing his hair back with my fingers I start to feel his weight over me. “I’m so sorry. I was so blind.”

“Say that again.” He rasps, his words bursting with desire to belong to someone. “Say that I’m yours.”

“My Dream Lord.” I pepper kisses along his jawline, repeating this sentence. “My Dream Lord, would you let me love you when all of this is over?”

Doubting, he pushes himself up again, but I grab onto his coat, stopping him before he can get too far.

“Love of mine,” his arms tremble. “My kiss should be the only answer you need.”

And as he kisses me again it’s like velvet flowing over my body, light, gentle when he pulls me up on the mattress, laying me against the pillows, all without his lips leaving mine. My fingertips trace his spine, kneading through his back muscles and he tenses up a bit before his body goes limp. He doesn’t pry, he doesn’t initiate anything more, he is just content to be touched. And there is a certain comfort in him draping over me, like a layer of protection between me and my captors. As his cold palm soothes the burning inflicted by my collar I sigh into his lips and feel a smile tugging at the edge of his mouth.

“Stay with me tonight.” He asks. “I’ve been lonely for so long.”

I guide him next to me so that he rests on the pillow next to me.

“If you wish me to do that. I want to make you feel loved, I’ve been a fool not doing that before. But not tonight.” He tilts his head so he can look me in the eye. “Not while I have a leash.”

“I’m content even if I can only hold you.” Using his midnight black cape he covers both of us. “I will need time.”

“Understandably so.”

“Not how you think.” The stars dancing in his iris dim, and some start blinking as he is thinking back. “I haven’t shown myself to anyone since my escape.”

“I see.”

“I feel tied to this form, but I find it hard not to hate it.” His nostrils flare when he sharply draws in air. His heart is still beating fast. I draw him in so his head rests comfortably in the crook of my neck.

“Such things are hard to unlearn, but I will never ask you to do anything that you are not ready for.”

“I know.”

Of course, he does. He always did…

Taglist:

@sayumiht @intothesoul

#assorodus #the sandman x reader #morpheus x reader #morpheus x oc #masterlist #the sandman #fic:assorodus #dream x reader #dream x oc #the sandman x oc #x reader

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dailyfanfix · 2 years

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Fic Rec VI: Assorodus

Main Post

Thoughts on Chapter 1 (spoilers)

I think chapter 1 starts out strong. It immediately shows you who or what the Reader might be, which hooked me into the story. It started out differently than most of the fics I’ve read.

There are also things that point to the reader having history with Morpheus, which I liked because build-up is always good, especially when it’s a slow burn. Later on you get to look back on those and think “Oh, so that’s what it’s about!” And I always like that feeling.

There’s a lot of celestial activity in the story and regarding the Reader, and obviously we don’t know what that’s about just yet, but I do feel that it’s maybe a crucial part of the story, so I’m paying attention every time there’s some mysterious force that’s commanding Reader about something. (Reader is very focused on her job, so whatever that something is, it scares—but also excites hehe—me that it might lead to angst.)

I personally think that line is good, especially with the context that later on, the Reader will endure the scorching pain for Morpheus’ sake. Gets you a look into just how much Reader cares for Morpheus, and makes you wonder even more what kind of relationship they really have.

Although I will say, Morpheus is more emotional here than in other fics, which I personally don’t mind. Because it looks to me that that’s how the author intended it to be, and because of the dynamic between Morpheus and the Reader, it makes sense for the story.

In the dynamic, it seems that the reader is the more protective one and Morpheus is like, the soft, teary-eyed bean that he is. But again, it makes sense because of who the reader is. I won;t say what she is though because that would be a major spoiler, you’d have to read the story for yourself if you want to know XP.

Like I said, the plot is very interesting, and I encourage y’all to read it and give PagieCake some support! (Because they deserve it and I really want to know what happens next—)

Writing-wise, I think it’s more tell-y than showy, but that’s not a bad thing. Just means the pacing is a little faster (for me, at least), especially at the beginning. It slows down the more you read though, it’s mostly the first chapter that’s fast because it’s introducing the Reader’s character. The Reader's character is also very complicated because of what she is, so to dwell too long on that is gonna take a lot of words so I get why it’s a little faster than the rest of the story’s pacing.

The paragraphs are also long (not all the time, though), which isn’t rare for fics and books. I’m only mentioning it to let y’all know. Because I’m dyslexic, bulky paragraphs are a little harder to read. Author, don’t take this as me telling you to shorten your paragraphs, that’s not why I’m saying this. Go write however your heart desires! I’m just here to give people a heads up, it doesn’t affect the story at all!

I saw in the ao3 comments that this is the author’s second language, and lemme tell you, for someone who’s writing in their second language, this fic is written very well! English is my second language, too. This style of writing is quite hard to achieve when you’re not using your first language, so more kudos to the author! English is a b*tch to learn XD.

The dialogue is good too! The first chapter’s dialogue stands out to me because you get a glimpse of Morpheus and Reader's history. It’s obvious they care for each other, but are holding back, yk?

My heart melted at the thought that the Reader stayed with him in that basement. Especially when both of them know nothing can be done to get him out because Reader would get hurt in the process. Anyway, I’ll wrap this up so the review isn’t too long. But overall, the plot is very interesting as I’ve said before, and the story gets better and better as the chapter progresses. Go check out Assorodus!

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pagiecakewritesstuff · 2 years

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1. MORPHEUS|DREAM OF THE ENDLESS X READER/OC

Assorodus meaning "silvery water".

Purpose may or may not exist, depending on our personal ideologies. The Endless know better though, they saw the entity prowling the lands before the beginning of history, and it was older than them. Not by much, a few eons maybe, arriving after the birth of the universe we know. For this being was strong and withered the coldness of the void until everything was created. First of Writers, the name it was given, for the inherent purpose of every breathing thing had to be formed in words. Whether we believe in it or not.

SERIES MASTERLIST

It all began with the first ray of light as it was the predicament of everything for later to come.

A mere beat later I was there too, thrown into the endless void, cradled by the warmth provided by this brilliant illumination sweeping through the newborn universe. Utterly alone, I was wishing for an explanation, a hand to hold. Don’t get me wrong, I was no child, I never had to be one, my endless existence contained no birth, nor it will have a death, but this doesn’t make coming into being without a certain creator any easier. Thus an immense wave of depression tore through my soul. Everywhere my eyes wandered I only saw this slowly pulsating light leading me nowhere. Believe me, I tried to follow, and made futile attempts to call out for someone greater than me. I ended up going in circles.

In my grave pain, I’m uncertain how much time passed until I suddenly spotted a star, as alone as I was. I raced towards it in the yet empty space. This presence that was other and outside of mine made me feel something I’ve never felt before. Every ion of this star buzzing, whirling around had given me inspiration and strength to keep me going. For the first time in a long while, I was happy. To express my joy I reached for the only things I knew how to form myself; words. I weaved them into the star itself with love and affection. Little did I know that I was given just a few minutes to craft my story, not nearly enough. I barely managed to note down the main goal of my plot and only that, before by exploding the star propelled me outwards to empty space. Shaken I turned back to investigate, searching for answers. What I found shocked me even more.

In the space of the star, I discovered a planet, exactly as I described in writing what the heavenly body would turn into. The climax of my prose came to reality seconds after being written. And I ascended onto the barren, still fuming earth. At that time the horizon was angry, radiating with the colours of red. I marked this occasion clearly in my memory, not wishing to forget my first achievement with my prose. Now as I tell you this, I don’t remember many things coming after that moment in my existence. It was never my task to know everything I ever wrote, as I soon realized this would be my craft forever. To write the end purpose of anything coming into existence.

Eons passed while I loyally composed my sentences to every rock, river, mountain, and blade of grass. The landscape I knew turned from grey to blue, then, as continents emerged, to green. Wandering through the prehistoric forests sometimes I had the chance to spot beings much like me. Seven of them to be exact. I was told by them that they had their domains that they were the sovereigns of, unformed and yet incomplete. They had no role in their existence, so after convincing them that I am no threat, I offered my services. Hesitantly they accepted and the writing of my greatest work began. After telling me that they were never to die, I had to form my story as such, creating purposes that could be fulfilled continuously as long as time itself existed. I drew inspiration from their names. Being the eldest I started with Destiny, giving him a plot that later many confused with mine. So let me clarify early on: there is a vast difference between Destiny and Purpose. The latter is the reason for which something is created, while the former are the events that will necessarily happen in the future. I only focus on one occurrence in everything’s life, in which it will reach its ultimate reason to exist, outside of that I don’t need to know anything, otherwise, I might tread into Destiny’s territory.

And I would never plan to do that, since against all the confusion surrounding our names we remained close friends.

Next came Death, her prose the most melodic out of them all. Her younger brother Dream received a beautiful task, which turned his realm into a wonderland. For Destruction, I used strong words, while Despair and Desire turned out somewhat softer, but not less ominous. All of this was observed by Delight, who continuously peeked over my shoulder, especially when I was creating the story for her. And after all of the Endless settled into their realms we set out to begin our work together. Soon the first humans appeared.

Initially, this new arrangement was tedious and hard, we had to learn how to complement each others’ skills and at the same time not cross over plans or wishes. And against all of that humanity was complex, sometimes full of violent intentions, then by a complete turnaround was capable of creating beauties. They gave me my first real name too, Aristotle to be exact, he called me: Telos. I was no deity to the ancient Greeks, not like Morpheus, only a notion in their great works about teleology to summarise the meaning of purpose. They did a remarkable job at that, might I add. There were times I had to keep my drafts a secret. Until the end of time, I should not let on about what a vortex is, for example. I’m not sure who instructed me to do so, but deep in my soul, I know this is the right way to go about it. Even when Dream himself failed to contain one, leading to the destruction of his realm.

As I mentioned above humanity turned out to be more complex than expected. To my surprise, they developed a strange obsession with finding out what their purpose in life is. Many called to me unknownst to them to ask, only I never answered. After I while I developed a strange obsession with watching them, as they hunted for answers between the planes of life and death until they had to depart forever. I knew all too well that if they were able to find something it would only end in disappointment. Not everyone has the purpose they hope for, it can be mundane, solely for moving the universe forward.

For good work I always needed a fine place for inspiration, thus I turned out to be a wanderer between realms. I could enter every domain with permission from its ruler and travel the halls of castles of all shapes and sizes. Like a hummingbird, from flower to flower, I flew through all dimensions one could imagine, my fast-beating wings giving birth to stories for all by lifting me to impossible heights. Not one thing was left without an epic woven into its fibre of being and when I looked down onto Earth it sang my prose back to me, intertwined with what the Endless had given. It was the most enticing song ever sung for the few who could hear it.

Aside from history and its expected tolls of various horrors, the universe kept moving forward as a river keeping to its bed. Until one day, when I noticed that stray brooklet, deviant from the usual drift. First, it was nothing major, sometimes I managed to forget it even, not stressing over the cause of it. I wrote in blissful ignorance, only… my pages came back to me, carried by a strange wind, icy and cutting. I didn’t understand. No pages should make their back to me unless the purpose on them remained unfulfilled after death. And the numbers increased, hundreds first, then thousands. Wherever I sat down to scribe, by the time I stood up I was surrounded by torn parchments of paper. I had to investigate.

One kingdom I neglected over the years, not by intent, but the Dreaming tended to distract me from my job, so remaining there required extra concentration, for which I didn't always have the power. Just by willing, I landed on the sandy beaches of the great endless waves. A heavy, grey blanket hung over the landscape, robbing it of the vibrancy it had. The murky water licking at my feet was foamy in a sick manner, forcing me to take a step back toward shore. Frantically I turned around searching for an entrance into the realm I was expecting all along. Cracked and discoloured, the ivory gates were towering over me, crumbling, pieces of the great relief already gone, half buried in the sand. The ivory eye of a once whole carved man stared at me. I needed no more.

This is what leads up to my arrival in England. While roaming the streets, collecting clues and following up on leads, I find many sick. Close to one million people are affected, some are unable to sleep and at the same time, others are incapable of waking up. This explains the return of my pages as well as the decaying state of the Dreaming.

I hear a rumour spreading on the streets about a certain Rodric Burgess and the devil he keeps in his basement. It could be anything, but with the first cab, I can catch I head towards the countryside, hoping that I didn’t let myself be misled by some bedside tale intended to frighten children at night. The location is in Wych Cross, a manor called Fawney Rig, old, its walls carry many stories between bricks, some I wrote, others are simply formed by time. Burgess is perplexed by my visit at first, then invites me in after correcting me about his name. He likes to be called Magus. It's easier than I thought to make him believe that I’m an admirer of his work, he bites onto my bait like a big old fish. We talk and I feel the thrumming power coming below the house, it makes my skin itch. Alexander, son of the Magus, observes us cautiously from the gallery. We lock eyes for a second, then the boy’s eyes wander towards the window and I follow. Outside I spot a raven, one that I would recognise among a thousand. I send a tentative surge of magic towards her. Jessamy opens her beak, though I can’t hear the sound from inside, then flies away. I’m focusing on Burgess again and a couple of compliments later he invites me to stay for the night. I accept.

Under the pretence of exploring the estate, I tread through the fields and orchards keeping an eye out for the familiar black patch in the green. Jessamy patiently waits for me by a mossy stone wall. Sadly she confirms all my worries, her little anxious body restless to get down into the basement. She informs me about the guards and the shift changes, all the entrances of the manor, and possible exit routes. It's easy to hide here, she says, been doing it for years. I let the shock show on my face. Years…

I usher Jessamy back to the safe shadows of the branches and my waiting game begins. The people of the house can’t see me if I make it so, however, I want to be completely alone when sneaking into the basement, so I set up a trap to delay the shift change. Burgess is cautious, thus I feel the need to show myself from time to time, ask for a drink, and require information about the architecture of the manor or the collection in the library. He is pleased by my curiosity, but even he has to excuse himself after a while and retire to his bedroom. The rooms grow eerily quiet, the time of the shift passes and not a soul enters. Soon, swearing under their breaths the day guards leave. I listen to them complaining all along the driveway until they are out of earshot. It’s finally my chance to make a move.

Immured beneath the ground I reach the cold chamber without anyone noticing. The air down here is musty in the absence of any ventilation. Next to the iron gate the table set up for the guards now stands lonely, a rotting piece of wood furniture. A hint of dampness is eating on it. These stones sing louder to me, almost to the point of shouting, reverberating the thrumming power in the room. Big forces are at work here. And in this earsplitting cacophony, everything is quiet at the same time. A rat scurries away from me, dragging my gaze with it across the stone floor, that's when my sight settles on the clear glass sphere in the centre, partially suspended from the ceiling. I halt as the ice-blue stare attacks my presence, burning a hole through my torso, like a predator before making the kill. Only this predator is caged without hope for escape.

His body I recognise, I’ve seen him naked before, but now the stretch of his skin is strange, sickly, I can see his bones protruding from underneath as if trying to break through his pale flesh. I remember his complexion being fair, though not to this extent. Partly obscured by his jet-black hair, his eyes are two windows to fiery rage, so much so, that I sense he is not sure who I am yet, his swirling emotions rendering him blind. Pink lips barely moving, he slightly pulls them into a scowl, threatening me without the use of words. I know him, but at the same time not, not in this state. What have they done to him?

“Morpheus?”

The shift is immediate, his cold surface shatters and he gasps for air as if he forgot how to breathe in the past few seconds. Maybe he did. His warning stance falls apart and he crumbles to the very bottom of the sphere in pieces, like a broken statue. I can see the tremors raking through his body as he leans against the glass and I can tell he is starving, hungry for interaction.

“Dear Morpheus…”

“Is it really you?”

I dare to step closer, feeling the burn of magical wards through my clothing. The golden circle smoulders on the floor, signalling the line which I must not cross. Even I buckle under this force, unable to destroy what's causing it.

“Yes.” I look into his glossy eyes. Tears cling to his lashes, threatening to spill. This is way too much emotion compared to the Morpheus I know. “I hoped I will not find you here. Not you at least.” He remains quiet, his palm now flush with the glass reaching out for me. I try to do the same, but the scorching air makes me yank my hand back. “I knew it will be you when I met Jessamy outside. She is quite worried for you.”

“Jessamy is here?” He stops trying when he sees that I can’t even get close to the sphere, disappointment evident in his posture. “I thought she left.”

“Not for a second.”

Thinking he pinches a stray lock of black hair between his forefinger and thumb, lightly pulling on it.

“So she didn’t carry the news to the Dreaming then.”

“I’m afraid so. No one welcomed me when I went there.” Where are his siblings in his time of need? Where are the Endless?

“You’ve been to my realm?”

“Yes.” Before my eyes, his soul collapses into itself even more and I’m unsure if I should keep information from him to prevent causing further pain. In the end, my conclusion is that he has the right to know.

“What has become of it?” It’s certain he doesn’t expect good news.

“The Dreaming is crumbling without its master. I couldn't get past the gates without your formal invitation, so I can only imagine what I would’ve found beyond.” To see him soo defeated after my answer is like a stab to my chest, I feel like I have to keep the silence away, so I change the subject. “What happened to you, Dream of the Endless?”

“They wanted Death.” Is all he says.

“Better that she keeps away from this place then.”

“The man, Burgess, asks for gifts that I can’t give, nor that are mankind’s to receive.”

I kneel in front of him, following his slowly averting gaze. Yet again anger flashes across the two beautiful irises. He tries to close himself off after showing momentary weakness towards me.

“How long have you been here?”

“Years, a decade. I can’t keep track of it.” He is ashamed. He shouldn’t be.

“Morpheus, why didn’t you ask for help?”

“I need you to go back to my realm, you shall rule over it while I’m away.”

My face must say everything because I immediately see his expression fall, and now he is void of every ounce of hope that seeped back into him when he made his request.

“You know I can’t do that, Lord of Dreams. I shall not mingle with human or Endless matters past my writings, the Creator was clear on that.”

“I saw how the heat of the spell touched you, I can’t ask for my freedom.”

“This magic is ancient, I’m not meant to break through.”

He finally truly looks into my eyes, while his body falls sideways against the glass, he doesn’t bother to catch himself. Now he lays on his side, half upright, spine slightly curved, following the lines of his cage.

“I didn’t think you would come, First of Writers.”

“I wish I came sooner.” Steps echo from the stairway, our time seems to come to an end. “I can stay if you want me to, but you mustn’t speak to me, otherwise they will know that I’m here. All I can offer is my company.”

A smile plays in his gaze, not affecting his lips, but it’s enough for me. I stay.

#morpheus fanfiction #dream x reader #the sandman #morpheus #dream of the endless x reader #fic:assorodus #morpheus x reader

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pagiecakewritesstuff · 2 years

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2. MORPHEUS|DREAM OF THE ENDLESS X READER/OC

Assorodus meaning "silvery water".

SERIES MASTERLIST

It must have been the silvery water that drew him back from time to time. The gentle waves licked at his feet as he cautiously kneeled on the silky sand of the shore. The first time he saw his reflection. I wonder if he knew how beautiful he was, even among his siblings. He used to smile a lot more back then, when he did imaginations would spring into reality and dreams were born. I used to think that the things he created were impossibly, but then he did them so effortlessly with such elegance and grace. Passion radiated off of him in waves, his purpose fulfilled tenfold as he handed out stories after storied for the world. For he was the maker of stories that later inspired people, not I. Yet again a slight difference between me and the Endless, that many like to forget.

I happened to spend days observing him playing in the sand. The individual grains obeyed him, cradling his naked body, sheltering him from cold or heat. The lake, the shore and the sand were as part of him as he was part of them. With every passing hour, the words that I gifted him bloomed inside his soul, conjuring endless fields of flowers. I was once invited to these fields before they withered and we laid side by side under the brilliant blue sky.

"Do you know if existence will always be this beautiful?" He asked me then. He was soo young, barely two centuries old, overflowing with hope and most of all, love.

"It's not my place to know such things." I turned to him, the first being to gift me with a smile after all those years in solitude, lost in the void. "Ask Destiny and he will tell you nothing."

"Is he really the only one in the universe who can perceive the future without crumbling under the weight of it?"

"I wrote him so."

He laughed, another thing that was among his customs before the beginning of history.

"I'm unsure what would have happened if you weren't here for us when we came to be."

"Nothing," I told him simply. "That would have meant that you have no need for me, for I only exist as long as I have a purpose."

Concern floods his features, pushing himself up he leans on his elbows, hovering over me. Searching my eyes for what I was about to say, his irises turned stormy and dark, filling with blinking stars. It reminded me of my first star that I wrote to.

"Am I to witness your death in the future First of Writers? Or you speak in riddles again?" He shuddered. "Tell me you speak in riddles and what you say is not set in stone."

"Dear Prince of Dreams, you shouldn't worry about such matters, not for a long while at least. This universe will proceed to exist for eons to come, I'm sure of it. However, everything will cease to exist one day, as this is how things go, as nothing is forever. Except for maybe you. Dreams don't die so easily."

He pressed his forehead against mine, sideways so his nose brushed my cheek. I could feel his breathing on my lips, his wild hair falling over my brow, tremors shaking his bones, signalling his desire to get as close as he could, but he held back. I told him to do so.

"You wrote it so?" He breathed into my mouth.

"I did."

In his containment, he is immensely mortal, to my eyes at least. I see the young entity back at the shore of the silvery lake, in a reversed, twisted state. I'm sitting aside, my skin soaking up the cold of the stone wall after the heat outside. The ward hasn't ceased burning me either, nor his gaze, intent, just shy of pouching a hole in my chest. Old passion long gone, he is on the brink of giving up so he uses me as an anchor in any way he can. I let him, I hold him without hands. He never refuses my presence, he yearns for it, even though we can't speak to each other. He doesn't smile as much anymore and I can barely remember the last time I hear him laugh. When I search for the fields of flowers in him the grass is dry and yellow, no floral wonders to be seen underneath the grey sky. As he notices me looking into his soul, reading my own prose in it, he shuts himself off and I find myself in front of two tall ivory gates. I wish to tell him that he doesn’t need to protect himself from me, but I recognise his scars, some still open and bleeding, so I leave him. He will come to me when I’m needed, as he did before. I will be there.

I only let him sense my invisible form, causing confusion amongst the guards about what their prisoner is watching so closely. When they investigate, they can't find anything. To this his eyes smile for a few passing moments, celebrating a small triumph that on paper belongs to my skills, but I lend it over to him. Everything for his short brakes of happiness. When Roderic Burgess descends into the depth of his basement he pointedly ignores the fact that he can't lock eyes with his guest. He likes to call him a guest instead of a prisoner. It probably eases his consciousness about keeping a feeling being locked up. What his usage of words makes me feel is yet another question.

Between shift changes, we have a chance to talk briefly. His mouth hangs slightly agape when he tells me that there is no air left behind the glass and breathing makes him think of a walled-up door, not giving. As his chest rises he bares his teeth, lungs straining against his ribcage. Yet again it reminds me of his mortal aspect in the waking world and of mine too. There is a certain comfort in this for me, showing that I am not all that different from actual living beings, meaning I’m still capable of writing prose that they will subconsciously listen to. For Morpheus, this is nothing but a curse as he endures the pain of suffocation and starvation with every passing second. Every time his dry tongue darts across his lips he wishes for nourishment.

Outside the world continues, trying to correct the loss of Dream, searching for an able substitute. Surely he knows this, such power shifts are to be sensed even from behind wards and glass cages. His powers wither inside him, unable to break free.

The basement is a good place for writing, I'm down there with him as often as I can afford. My words however won't distribute themselves, so on occasion, I leave. We don't say goodbye, as I disappear at the turn of the stairway. Though I can envisage his eyes following my every step as if pulling me back with carefully veiled desperation. Without uttering a sound every joint in his body tells me that my leaving is like a slap across the face for him, and I ponder if me coming down to the basement is doing any good at all.

On my way out I slow down, choosing to observe the household. It's depressing to see how much sorrow stuck under the roof of Fawney Rig, Magus' ongoing abuse of his son can't be prevented. At least not by me and I doubt any godly entity would care about these tiny mortals in this vast universe. Alex's pain troubles me, but my hands are bound. He is serving his purpose. My words written across his being tell me, it's not to free Morpheus.

An example of unwavering loyalty and patience after all these years, Jessamy waits for me by her tree. I reveal myself to her and we whisper to each other in the shade of green. The gentle afternoon breeze ruffles her feathers as her body is erect, as she balances on a thin branch. She wants to help. I can't convince her to go back to the Dreaming, instead, I warn her to give a wide berth to the manor, should the inhabitants know to whom she belongs. Her black beady eyes look towards the main door, she is disgruntled but doesn't object. She promises to stay away. I disappear from the mortal plane a bit less worried than I arrived. I’m doing what I can.

I have to be away for months due to neglecting my work, I leap between realms and realities, and I travel far and back. I pass other Endless, our exchanged glances signalling me that they know what's happening. Unable to act, all of them. I guide my diverted attention back to my task, my sentences swirl around the universe, it's remunerative to see them, young and old alike. They make me feel at home wherever I set foot.

At the same time, they are fast carriers of news. A lifeline between me and souls in need of me.

A cry for help hits me like a beam of ethereal light, tainted with such anguish that clenches my heart, forcing it to skip beats. I know who it is. His unmistakable voice calls my name in its thousands of iterations all at once and a roar escapes his mind. A roar that can tear down mountains, and split dreams in half. In me a thread among infinite snaps, an unfulfilled purpose floats back to me, but fear makes me blind to see who's it is.

Frozen, I fall into the depths of space until catching myself. The wails come in continuous waves, searching for me. What happened? What have they done to him? Shaken I gather myself and race the stars back to earth, a few left behind letters scatter then form into a draft in my wake. My spirit flies through doors uninvited until I stop myself at the top of the stairs. Behind my back there is commotion, shouting, and something heavy thrown onto the ground, it sounds like metal and wood. It clicks lightly, only I can hear it, it’s a gun. Before me, the tangible smell of blood forms a thick wall, red and swirling. Death was here, she already left. I secretly proceed down and arrive at the iron gate. It's open, with no guards in sight.

The trail of blood drips down from the sphere, smeared across the glass, mixed with feathers, black and white. A rat sips on it, delighted in its feast, pawing after remains of tissue. I tug on the severed thread in me, bringing it forward. With tenderly curling letters it writes Jessamy. Now the gun makes sense, and I’m angry at first, I told her not to get close, they did know who she was. For a moment I think of running after Death, showing her the thread of purpose unfulfilled, explaining to her that this is a mere mistake. Then I hear him calling out, louder than before.

In his cage, Morpheus tries to sob, but he can’t really. The air ran out long ago. His exterior emotions are obscured by his palms fisting his hair. His maintained, defiant posture is no more, lost in his grief and he folds over himself crumpled and broken. He is facing away from what’s left of his raven. He had to see all of it, didn’t he? How could they be so cruel to shoot her in front of his eyes? I rein in my rage over what I can’t mend, this is not why I’m here.

As I approach the rat runs to hide, stealing a feather between its teeth. The edge of the circle is like a tightrope, I balance on it, uncertain if I should step down and reach out for the creature in the depths. The last thing I want to do is hurt him more, he requested my support and he shall receive it, I’m not to overstep his boundaries. I attempt to say his name, but it’s hard to find my voice. He doesn’t seem like himself anymore, does he still have a name at all? Is he defeated now, shivering and alone?

Not if I have a say in it.

“Lord Morpheus.” The whine escaping his lips is the only sign that he acknowledges my presence. I sink to my knees, leaning into the barrier. “Hear me Morpheus, open the gates, let me into your fields.”

His head raises, a teardrop clings to the tip of his nose, then falls onto the glass.

“I have my fields no more.” He mutters. “All of it… It’s rotten.”

“I like it all the same.” I place my hand on the sphere, ignoring the burn. “I have just enough power, please, let me in. Let me ease your sorrow.”

Desperation exploding in his soul like an unstable bomb, suddenly he lugs me in without a warning. My bare feet hit ashy, dark ground, he dressed me in my old robes. So he still remembers. Ahead he stands, his back towards me, naked, this time not by choice, robbed of his dignity. Without facing me, he speaks.

“You were never supposed to see this.”

“You think I didn’t know?” I get in front of him while he looks over my shoulders. “I’m not angry for it.”

“I have spoiled your gift.”

“You never did such a thing.”

He sobs, ugly and heaving, free of the boundaries torturing him on the mortal plane. I cup his cheeks, turning his eyes on me. The stars are blinking in them, weakened.

“There you are, love. What happened?”

It takes a few moments until he calms down. He savours my touch, his fingers holding onto mine. I offer more contact and our foreheads find each other, his lashes brush my eyelids, and we breathe in and out together.

“In front of me. They killed her in front of me.”

“I hear you. Come, join me in the grass.”

Following my invitation his body mirrors mine. I guide his head over my stomach and I begin to undo the knots in his hair, his locks lost their shine. Like a heavy blanket, partial unconsciousness settles over him, he stops shivering, still reaching for me, locking my arm into his hold.

“Do you still remember?”

“I couldn’t forget.” I can see his beautiful flowers dancing in front of my eyes, branded into my memory. “Existence is not what we hoped for.”

“It never is.”

He travels up my body settling in the crook of my neck, his lips rubbing against my skin as he parts them when he asks;

“Do you yearn for me as much as I do?” He hopes. I hate to kill it.

“I yearn for your freedom. For the balance regained by it.”

“Nothing more?” I wish I could make him feel better by saying what he longs for, but I can’t. I forbade myself a long time ago.

“No.”

He grips me tighter even though he knew the answer ahead.

“Even after these years?”

“It would only bring us pain.” The celestial sphere cracks above us, voices and footsteps are coming through. “Jessamy will be in good hands, trust your sister in this, she loves you very much. To me, you have to promise that you won't give up, Morpheus. Can you do that? Just a little while longer?”

His nose shifts across my collarbone, and he nods.

“Just a little while longer.” I kiss his hairline, pouring all the strength into him that I can give. I peel away his fingers. “I love you too.”

I leave, he stays on the ground enduring the piercing of the thorns of grass. Reluctantly he lets me go and remains silent as his tremors start again.

“Come back for me.”

“I will.”

When the guards return the splash of blood is removed, nowhere to be seen.

#morpheus x reader #dream fanfiction #the sandman netflix #morpheus imagine #jessamy the raven #fic:assorodus #dream x reader

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pagiecakewritesstuff · 2 years

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3. MORPHEUS|DREAM OF THE ENDLESS X READER/OC

Assorodus meaning "silvery water".

SERIES MASTERLIST

He balanced on the cliff's edge, a whirlwind of shifting forms, Kai'ckul then Dream, for me, for her, all the same. He kept doing it, even though she escaped to her death minutes ago, long enough to register. I heard him shout across the channels of time and I abandoned my work in progress like I received an order. I wasn't sure why, what condemned me to act so abruptly. He wasn't calling for me specifically, nor did he need an exact person at the moment. What reached me was an exclamation of pain and inertness. Then came the flitting parchment in the wind, strange, uncompleted purpose, yet still ongoing. Partly I convinced myself that this was the reason I travelled so fast.

Shifting his eyes between me and the mangled body on the rocks, his black coat violently flapped in the wind, a gown of a defeated king. I could imagine his crown tumbling after her. He was surprised to find me by his side, his face told it all, he must have expected his sister first. Finally, his angry gaze settled on me, jaw clenched, ready to outburst. He made the connections and invented a reason in his head for my arrival. I foresaw that he will call me to account, questioning whether this was the purpose I had given Nada at birth. The purpose of turning him down and breaking his heart.

"Did everything go as you planned?" I let him blame me, and he regretted it later with a silent apology. He was never good at saying those out loud.

"I think so." Pebbles fell from the great height by my strides as I took my place next to him, he sidestepped, avoiding my closeness even. "Her song is not dead yet, she still has things to do."

He must have thought I'm joking with him, turning against him as his sister-brother did sometimes, an elaborate jest just to make him scarred. With furiously shaking fingers he pointed down as if I didn't notice his past lover laying there before in a grotesque assortment of limbs and brain matter.

"Why then?" For a fleeting moment, I believed he would grab and shake me, not much, just to make himself feel a bit better. Why losing our second love hurts much more? We must assume that once we are past the pain it can't happen again, that we are somehow shielded from it, prepared for what's about to happen. Then reality hits like a slap to the face and we realize that we are not at all ready.

Morpheus wouldn't have hurt me of course.

“I can’t say for certain, my best guess would be to teach a lesson that you must learn.”

Stars blazed in his eyes, swimming over his blue irises, engulfing them in darkness, like ink on water. He seemed so sure that I’m mocking him, but that was far from the truth. He was young, not as preceptive.

“So you have taken it upon yourself to educate me?” Shadows curled around him, bent at his will as invisible pawns. I felt like he might have tossed us into a dream on his whim, cleverly disguised as reality to gain the upper hand for an assault that was never coming. Only I would have still had enough power to free myself, but I found no spell to get rid of. The mortal plane took his side and lent him its shadows. “Shall I remind you who I am?”

“No need, King of Dreams.” He pushed me too far. My hand lashed out, grabbing onto the hair at the nape of his neck. I pulled him close with just enough force so that I don’t hurt him, but render him unable to escape the situation. “Do I need to ask you the same question?”

Dream struggles, tilting his head up defiantly, however, I held him with more than just my arm or physical force. Compared to the form I had chosen to appear in he was much taller, almost by a whole head. I waited for him to settle.

“No,” he groaned then.

“What have you done to her?” Regret flashed in his vision, disappearing fast and without a trace. It wouldn’t have been him if he didn’t stand by his choices.

“A fault in your plans?” Testing me, he knew how dangerous I could be, he saw my wrath, though he was undoubtful that I wouldn’t turn against him. “Or perhaps in my brother’s? Destiny sent you?”

“You tread perilous grounds Morpheus. Answer.”

“I condemned her to hell,” he hissed. I let him go, fingers still brushing against his neck. He didn’t take the free step back, labouring breaths and all. He stood his ground. “She abashed me.”

“As I suspected. And you of course have no fault in this.” His head nodded forward, chin hitting his sternum. From under his brows, the two swirling sea eyes tried to read me. “I never saw a purpose that is to be fulfilled in the afterlife, how strange.”

“Is this Desire’s doing? Like Killala was?”

“Wouldn’t be a lesson if I were to tell you, would it?”

His mask of anger fractured, turning into dust and he let the wind carry it away. It dawned on him that without Nada he was alone again.

“Come to the Dreaming with me.” He spoke low, as if afraid that the desert would take notice of his solicitation. “I find myself in need of your company, First of Writers.”

I smiled at him sweetly.

“It’s best for you to be alone now, Dream of the Endless.”

Lucienne notified me, not him. Almost a century after and he didn’t let me know. I went to visit, only to find his cage broken and empty and he would have let me worry until I find my way to his realm. Then a raven came from me out of the sky, he did say his name, Matthew, and he was tasked to pull me into the Dreaming. But not because Morpheus asked him, the request was made by the palace’s forever librarian.

He either expects me or Lucienne told him I will be coming, as I find the ivory gates now standing slightly ajar, so I waste no time. The sea bordering his domain is still murky and white strings of bacteria cling to the shore’s black sand. I enter, stumbling onto a rocky path. It must have been cobblestone once, now it's uneven and broken up. I know this land from long eons ago and it was not fashioned like this. I’ve seen these rolling hills when they were blooming with eternal spring and with a boat fabricated by clouds and rain I drifted down the river to the doors watched by the three guardians. A gryphon, a drake and a pegasus. When I halt for a moment to take in the landscape I faintly perceive a dry riverbed. There is nothing I’ve written here, for all of this does not exist in the waking world. But dreams sing too. Or at least they should.

As I cross the distance between us Lucienne falls into my awaiting arms. Her suffering must have been close to equal to her master’s, abandoned in a kingdom without a ruler. Hastily she excuses herself and straightens, suit and glasses immaculate as always. She looks deeply into my eyes and almost begins to speak, but I cut her short. Certain matters can’t wait.

“So he is back.” I hush like I’m about to gossip, the tall marble hall’s walls reverberate every sound. Maybe the guardians outside, frozen into stone, listen.

“Not long ago I found him laying in the sand at the shores.” She confirms, then whispers too. “Dare I ask what happened exactly?”

“That’s no story I can tell you, Lucienne. Ask your lord, he might one day. When he is ready.”

“I've been nothing but tactful, I assure you.” The librarian leads me towards a lanced archway, opening to a corridor which serves as a gallery of some, with all sorts of impossible paintings of night and time pushing away from each other in the wake of a crazed star. In the chaos a ship sails towards reality, no, someone thrusts it forward instead. The image tugs on my memory, a member of a long-dead race's teeth flashes in my mind. A vortex. There was a girl too, Hope. I quickly ignore it and focus on Lucienne.

"I'm sure you were." Escaped from the strange visions I force a smile, though it's still shadowed by our looming situation. We walk through a collapsed Dreaming, it's monarch the same as broken. "Tell me, how is he?"

"Restless, my..." She thinks better and doesn't let on what form she sees me in at the moment. Her eyes linger on me. "He should rest, he is weak."

"Foolish man," I mutter and Lucienne smirks. "He will not be happy about it, but I will talk to him."

"That's why I sent for you. Your bond is," she thinks for a second. "Special."

"Even that might not be enough." We pass a window made of colourful shards of glass, the composition depicts Fiddler's Green, what he was. "Morpheus might not realize this, but even he needs to be shown the right way sometimes."

"He is horrible at accepting help and at asking for it too."

"He always was. Some say that the only person he would accept help from is himself. I might be able to change that, at least for today. Tomorrow is another question. But I can always try to win him over twice."

Finally, we make it to the throne room. I have to surpass a gasp threatening to escape my lips. What the Lord of the Dreaming spent ages to build is all gone, the ceiling caved in and the starry night sky drapes over above us, contrary to the gloomy sun outside. I watch my step around the scattered debris, reminders of an old time, waiting to be removed, reused. Lucienne stays by the door sill, willing to give us privacy. Ornate clustered columns stand, bearing the memory of now non-existent flying buttresses. Stones levitate through the air, where the side aisle's ribbed vaults once were. The upper gallery torn down just carved details left of it. The leaf of a flower, the head of an ox charging towards a wyvern, only wings, no body. I know the gothic church where he borrowed the inspiration from for these architectural wonders, I showed it to him. Now he is perching on the unscathed stairs leading to his throne, fully dressed, dark folds encompassing his skeletal body. He watches from his seat intently as I approach. I think he has an idea about what speech I prepared for him, but what he gets wrong is that I'm not here to lecture. I know this by being his friend since he existed, there are rarely any secrets to be found between us. I can see into his toughts as much as he can into mine.

Without invitation, I join him on the steps and I'm above him until he decides to stand tall, a ray of black booming clouds. He presents himself as proud again with the dignity of a monarch, but I can still point out the bruises under his cape, hidden in the most secured layers of his soul. His faith in humanity faltered, rightfully so, though how he will be able to serve them like this now? This is no way to go. I don't plan to guide him back to a better route right away, he needs time to heal and after all, he is completely capable of figuring out things by himself. I’m here, so he has someone to lean onto.

He speaks like a lord.

"I expected you will turn up eventually." Oh, he is stern, he doesn't want to be bothered and I would be content to leave if this wasn't necessary. "Much later though."

"I expected you to send for me at least. Leave me a message maybe?" A growl flares up in his chest, and his eyes hang on the starry sky above, searching for constellations to curse me with. I step up, we are almost the same height. "Or I had hoped for too much after being by your side for a century?"

"And I thank you for that." My closeness makes him back off, he turns to leave the throne room, just with that he is sure he can get rid of me. "But I have things to attend to. As you probably already noticed my realm is in shambles, my subjects are on their own. If I have any left of them."

"You think I don't see it? See into you as deep as your heart." He halts, and I walk up to him. "You are hunched, your spine curved, every vertebra moulded to the trajectory of your cage. And you think I'd miss this?"

My hand finds the nape of his neck, drawing circles on his skin there. His hair gained back a bit of shine. From the side of my vision, I see Lucienne leaving the doorway. Morpheus involuntarily leans into my touch, closes his eyes, and surrenders himself to the sensation. He draws a shaky breath, the electricity of pleasure spasms in his veins, locking his body into a motionless effigy of himself. Just like that, I came out on top.

"All I ask from you is to rest for a while. A day at least."

"How could I?" He lets me keep caressing him. "The symbols of my power, they were stolen, I have to find them. I can't rebuild while they are missing."

"The Dreaming can wait for a day, it won't change anything." I gently remove his coat, it falls to the ground, and pools at our ankles like liquid obsidian. "Come and rest. Please."

I grab his hand and pull him towards a side exit patiently so he can will what's about to materialize behind the door. He doesn't protest. We turn up in his chamber, vast and airy. To stretch, to breathe. With windows so the oxygen never runs out. I lead him to the bed, king-sized, the ebony duvet is without wrinkles from waiting to be used for years. We stand next to it, eye to eye, his fingers intertwined with mine. He hesitates.

“Do you want to be alone?”

“No. I wish for your company.”

In unison we climb under the covers, his head finds its place over my heart to listen to its rhythmic counsel, our feet are touching, his much colder than mine. I shouldn't let him this close, but part of me wants to. It's not that we couldn't love each other, but he is an Endless and I'm something even more ancient. Neither of us can be distracted from our tasks by romance. He longs for partnership that I can't give and I have to admit to myself, that I'm scared. One if not both of us would only end up hurting. Is that worth it for a short interruption of boundless love?

"Why?" He is starved for touch, ardently searches for my warmth, his arm sneaks around my torso, afraid I might refuse. “Have I asked you this before? Why?”

"Why what?" I smooth his locks out of his face, his features sublime. "Rest now."

"Why stay by my side if you do not harbour feelings for me as I do? Am I not tiring?” Speaking into the crook of my neck he presses closer. “Why did you come here?"

"I do love you." He shudders, he heard this before, never in a way, he would have liked.

"You tear into me every time you say this, yet I still find you more beautiful than anything."

"In which one of my forms?" My nails scrape down his back, his muscles quivering, spine arching to meet my touch.

"In every one of them."

One day. Maybe one day, when the universe doesn't need us as it does now. I can be his and he can be mine.

“Rest Dream Lord. Rest, I will wake you when the time is right.”

#netflix #morpheus x reader #reader insert #dream x oc #sandman #dream x reader #fic:assorodus

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pagiecakewritesstuff · 2 years

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4. MORPHEUS|DREAM OF THE ENDLESS X READER/OC

Assorodus meaning "silvery water".

SERIES MASTERLIST

We were back at the silvery lake, our usual meeting spot by then. He invited me here with greater delight than even his younger sister could ever give. Vigorously he captured my hand, excitement beaming from his body. He was to present me with something, though he didn't let on much. Dishevelled hair flying along, there was a noticeable spring in his step.

"I finished it all." He explained between breathy laughs as he tugged me after him. "The Dreaming, it’s ready."

"You did?" I glanced at him in awe. He did it just in time, it was the day when the first living creature came to be on the Earth, hours before the night of early dreams. It was his hour, night was about to spread over the prehistoric scenery.

"Would you let me show it to you?" Tearing a gateway into reality he sought my response. I nodded. Leaving the waking world we commenced into the Dreaming. I felt a strange, new wind blow against my face, a laudable contender to the one that carried my song. My toes were burrowed into black sand, with specks of stardust mixed within it. The breeze carried the smell of salt and a sense of unrestricted freedom that the barriers of the mortal planes forever denied me. It was intoxicating, so much so, that I let my lids flutter shut for a second until Morpheus walked on, our hands still attached. A yet unrefined ivory gate came into view, a symbol of power and dreams to come.

"You carved this?" My fingers ran over the chisel marks, made with careful consideration, clear signs of his love and devotion.

"Out of Horn and Ivory." To his beckoning the two mighty wings opened up, revealing an ochre cobblestone path. Back then he had no formal palace to his name, only the hills and rivers, mystical valleys and the sky, mirror of his emotions. The sunlit vista was so bright, so immaculate, that I had to shield my eyes until I adjusted.

"I hear a new melody and it’s not mine." I looked up at him, saying. "It bears the mark of your craftsmanship."

"It’s greatly inspired by yours." He was flustered by his sudden, honest statement, so absolving him I spoke next.

"The first dreamer is about to arrive." I let go of him and went over the brilliant green blooming around us, as a goodbye. "This is your moment, I should leave you to it."

"On the contrary." The squeeze of his fingers on my hip stopped me, breath hitched in my throat. "I was hoping to share this experience with you."

That's when I saw it in his eyes for truly what it was, the exact adoration I have felt but repressed. But how could I keep doing that, knowing his feelings were the same? He brought down the whole starry sky for me in his irises, all that tenderness, and desire to be close gained meaning. He wished for me with true candour and I was never loved before that, not since I escaped the void.

"Dream..."

"May I kiss you?"

My gaze flicked from his dilating pupils to his lips. Taking my loss for words as an encouragement he leaned in, head slanted, his nose brushed mine. It was all benevolent from his side, all too beguiling, and I hesitated. I had hoped I wouldn't be the one who breaks him, cuts his heart open, while my racing one beats on. I needed all my might to open my mouth, to say something, anything.

"I can't"

His eyes widened, pulling his arms back as if I was burning him, he stumbled then straightened. The sky was murky, and clouds gathered above us.

"Why?" He uttered, rather questioning the Dreaming than me personally.

"Our affection for each other is something that shall never bloom, Dream." I owed him with explaining my actions, so I sat down on a nearby tree trunk, its bark twisted and textured. The attention to detail, more genuine than reality.

"I don't understand." He kneeled in front of me, leaning over my legs. "I thought what we had was love."

"We have the coming humanity to love, and we are to serve them with devotion. Without distraction."

His sight turned into pure black, two pinpricks of light blinking in it, his fingertips brushed my jawline, bringing me closer.

"Then all I ask from you is to give me this boon, just this time and I will carry it throughout the ages, love-mine who never was."

Our lips fused without consideration, and his tongue entered past my teeth, forceful and yearning. I fisted his hair, a war of reason raging in me. Swallowing his essence, he let me drink from him, consume him in our self-destructive dance. Tears trailed down his cheek, wetting mine simultaneously. Biting onto my lower lip, he drew my blood. Surprised by the taste, he gasped, and I tore myself away. Darkness pooled around us.

Like shields from the outside, the heavy sheets gather around me as I wake. Scooting up, his hand slips from my torso, and I press my head against the headboard, exhaling into the soft, feather-like aura bubbling around us. I'm careful not to disturb Morpheus laying next to me, like someone cast from lead, heavy and weathered. As I survey every pore of his body, he is dreary, tired beyond imagination. Tendons in his neck tighten, and he shifts forward, bunching up the blanket between his fingers. The Lord of Dreams can't sleep, nor dream for that matter, not in a way others do. He only rests in a cautious state of unconsciousness, his mind escaping into nothingness, while still assuming ill-wishing shadows in every crevice in his realm. Even above his needs, his true functions come first, he is connected to the Dreaming in every moment.

While my eyes were closed, I received an invisible envoy, breaching the outer layer of my soul. I read it, and the message is clear, not accepting refusal. I'm expected in court, though I know not why or what shall I prepare for, what's about to go down while I'm there. I have my presumptions, I have met the Lord before whom I to have an audience, someone truly volatile, someone who makes my powers labile above them. Not because of sheer power, this entity is clever and usually gets what it wants.

As I lean over the edge of the mattress, Dream stirs at the sudden loss of warmth, fingers tentatively searching for me, gliding across the sheet. I don't want to rouse him just yet, he looks ahead of trying times as a result of what befell him, he deserves those extra few minutes he can have in bed. Quietly I get ready, every movement calculated, I pull adequate clothing out of the fabrics of the Dreaming and other realms I can reach from here. Hardened leather melts onto my torso, straps secure it in place with every layer underneath it. A helm offers itself, a cavalcade of metal and crests running down the sides, a kaleidoscope of distorted reflections. I push it aside. A tinge of fear blooms within my chest, but that's no reason to hide my face.

"You are leaving." I catch the owner of the smooth voice as he turns to his side, right shoulder pressing into the pillow beneath him.

"I wanted to wake you before I do." Noticing a crooked buckle on my vest, I tidy it. "I'm sorry if I disturbed you."

"I delayed my duties long enough." He stands, arranging his limbs in a swift, elegant dance only he knows. The shadows hiding in the crooks of his palace cluster around his edges, morphing into his regal cape, whispering their night-time mischief into his ear. "You are dressed in armour."

"I was called to another realm." We lock eyes, then I tear my gaze away. "Urgently. I'm afraid I can't stay much longer."

Morpheus solemnly contemplates my words, his skin cadaverous against the onyx black fabrics hanging from his frame. He is a statue fused into one with his domain.

"I wanted to suggest you accompany me today." He admits at last morosely, but I know we have already spent more time than we can afford together. "I am to summon the three who are one, I have questions to ask."

"That is your task to do and I have mine." Tugging on the blanket it arranges itself without me putting in the effort, Dream does the same on his side. The oddly comforting domestic bliss wraps around us until I shake it off. My fingers smooth over the soft silks one last time, and then without saying goodbye I turn towards the door. He glides in front of me before I can grab the handle, a looming wall of darkness cutting off my exit.

"This night, we--"

"We shall not repeat it. Ever." Maybe 'ever' is a strong word, but I can't give him hope. Sidestepping I cross the threshold of the room, heading down the empty corridors. The palace layouts might have changed slightly in the past hours, but I adapt and have no problems finding the right direction. I feel his presence looming beside me, keeping up with my strides. "I let us get too far."

His response is a melancholic, low hum, discouraged from saying what he wanted initially. What gainsays he had gathered about this in his head, fades. His eyes stare, unequivocally hurt, but with contained emotions.

"I'm sorry," I add, though it's little to no help. Scolding myself I pass the tall windows, clear sunlight sifting through the coloured glass panels. It was fatuous to let my feelings get the better of me, to crave the touch of his skin, even for one night, just as he did mine. We were playing with fire, and sooner than later others will notice how persistent I was to remain by him during his confinement. And I wouldn't like to wait until that proves to be a useful weapon against either of us for someone.

"Will you come back?" He asks instead as my boots scuff against the marble and we halt in the great entrance of his throne room. The columns and archways greet us individually.

"Eventually. When I can." His chin dips in a curt nod. "I shall see first what today brings."

"Would you come, if I were to call on you?" While one would expect his tone to be intimate, and caring, it falls flat, and rather comes out as a statement, only hinting that the sentence's nature is initially a question. I made him this rigid, it's my fault.

"Perhaps." Unlike him, I force a hint of tenderness into my answer. "I make no promises."

For a moment it looks like he might think about making a gesture as his way of saying farewell, but Lucienne arrives, a huge ledger in hand and so Morpheus falls back. I take this as a sign. He is far from being okay, but he is getting there, taking a rest helped immensely and I believe he will have the strength to do what he has to now. I leave a heavy breath behind, summarising all of our unsaid words as I will a portal open in front of me. Without looking back I fall into the inky London one-way street, so narrow that I could reach across, not having to move an inch. The smoky air is heavy after the Dreaming's breeze, I inhale it, grounding myself in the waking world. This is not really where I'm headed, but rather a distraction to avoid the imminent threat to Morpheus' domain if I were to open a direct path. Raindrops soak through my hair, and a storm is building up, mirroring my mood. There is a certain thrum in my heart, a warning for taking things too slowly. I go on, landing against disintegrating, greyish stone. With the drab landscape and the scorched dirt, I'm reminded of the first image of the fuming Earth.

This is Hell.

A forgotten trail leads to Lucifer's temple, one that avoids the heavily guarded gates, it's probing and not for the faint-hearted, but I can traverse it with ease. Customarily I'm not welcomed on these barren ridges and planes, daemons believe, rightfully so, that I'm part of the reason why they have to reside here. First of all, the Lightbringer thinks alike. Based on this, one would correctly infer that I do hear my song, even this deep down, not as loud as I'm used to, but it's still there, streaming from under ash and fire. It's all trumpets and drums collaborating in a dooming epic, complemented by the weeping cries of the tortured.

With my shortcut I'm quick to get to the bridge, providing access to the seat of Hell, the two slabs of vulcanic rock door leaves already apart, blood oozing out from between them. The red liquid evades me, directing its flow around my steps, not threatening to soil my soles as I breeze past ominous symbols of suffering. I need no assistance, the corridors, crushing in size and semblance, show themselves to me in the correct order, ushering me inside, to the topmost level, exactly where I was summoned.

There, scanning the kingdom of Hell, dressed in an alabaster gown, stands the Angel of Death, the one who rebelled against their god. Pet Mazekeen is nowhere to be seen, she must have taken a day off.

"At last." The apocalyptic voice greets me, drawling on contently. "I was starting to think we won't see you today."

"Lightbringer." I great the ruler of Hell properly. "Dare I ask what's the nature of your invitation?"

"You always cut to the chase when it's about me Talos." Lucifer muses, playing with the fire blazing in the centre of the room, tossing a hand between the flames, skin unfazed by the heat. Maybe in Hell, even the fires are cold. "Talos. Is that your preferred name? I never asked, we see each other so rarely."

"I'm many names and not, all at once. I don't have a preference."

"Talos then." The chilling sneer I receive nails me to the floor. In every passing second with every possible flick of muscle, breath and word I'm reminded who's the kingdom we are in.

"What is that you require?"

"Not so fast, dear." The mocking gasp tells me that I have a whole theatrical number prepared for my honour, and I must run along. Whatever is about to go down, most of it is probably planned ahead. "You got somewhere to be?"

I keep my mouth shut.

"You do, am I right?" Lucifer switches to circling me like a hungry feline, leaving the fire. "Your Dream Lord must be still pining after you. How sad really, after all those years."

"He is not mine." I accidentally let them slip in the faulty hole they managed to hit into my defences, access to Dream inside my heart.

"Oh, but he could be." The speech is written, and I let them perform. "If you weren't so duteous, though it's a trait both of you share. Is your hand in that? Are you that powerful?"

"For you it's enough to know that my power is above yours, after all, you too bear my shared words within."

They laugh.

"Watch out, certain loopholes can be found."

"Get to the point." My forcefully held patience is slipping from my grip.

"It's good that you brought up your writing." Examining their fingers, Lucifer's nails tear into their cuticles while I'm spoken to as if I'm not even there, dismissively. "Because I want you to take back the part you have given me."

A strange wish, not unheard of, but not once achieved. What I give is a gift, unexchangeable, getting rid of it holds unfathomable risks. The balance of the universe still tethers at the edge of darkness, Dream just returned, I don't wish to jeopardise what he gained back.

"You would cease to exist. Do you wish to die, if so, I'm not the one to call down here."

"You misunderstand me. I not only want you to take back your writing, but I also want you to give me another one." Finally, I'm regarded, and we stand face to face, closer than comfortable. "I don't want to be the ruler of Hell anymore."

"What is it, that you wish to do then?"

"Opportunities will present themselves surely."

It’s my turn, a smile tugs on my lips. Incredible how far this creation of God dares to go. After all, what Hell has against me, I'm a part of it, as I am part of everything.

"No. My answer is no."

"Surely you can think better than that." The crimson lips part, flashing bright white teeth, two pointier than usual canines. "I have my ways to get what I want, but you are not going to like them."

"By all means, indulge me." It's not the fight I was prepared for, but it's a fight nonetheless. "What the Morningstar has against me?"

"A thing that is not yours, I'm sure it's not important at all." Below I can hear the roiling of the daemon horde, grouping around bonfires, demanding entertainment. The promise of a duel hangs in the air and I am to be a challenger. "Rumours say that the King of the Dreaming is in a vulnerable state. Would you agree?"

Something akin to rage, but mightier arises in me, a surge of protectiveness coils in my chest, over love that never was. As if a hailstorm were to destroy a yet-to-bloom flower, I become the tree giving its shelter. It's our flower, his and mine, that I keep hidden behind the garden wall. I don't let anyone see it, not even Dream, whose name is written into every petal and pollen.

"The Dreaming and its monarch are under my protection." Lucifer takes a step back, as my voice shakes the walls around us and intricate cracks like spiderwebs start spreading on the rock. "This conversation is over."

"Be as you say." The smirk is gone. "But don't think you can be there for him forever, one day you will feel the consequences of your denial."

My bow is rigid, Hell cripples under its weight. I don't bother to take the route back the way I came. Arm outstretched I rip into reality and with that, I'm gone. The void between planes sucks me in and I fly through the nothingness before I come to my senses. This is not right. Immediately I step out, welcomed to a peaceful city. The light just dips below the sun-kissed roofs as I land in an alley opening to a square, which accommodates a huge cathedral. I'm in Florence, terrified and trembling. Unconsciously I contemplate the impossible; should I rewrite one of my works or keep to my rules? I'm in no doubt that Hell could hurt the Dreaming if it wanted to. I stumble into the first café within reach, it's closing hour so I get the last serving of coffee I'm offered. I showed too much, all where I'm the most vulnerable. I make a feeble attempt to present myself as calm to the waiter, but all I receive is a strange, leery stare. My clothing cannot be considered normal either to the human eye.

A nudge, that's all that notifies me of their presence. The fabric of reality dips, re weaves itself as they want it around the incision that is me and them. One enters, takes a seat opposite of me, and resonates as three, like an optical illusion, I hear them speaking in unison, yet separate. Huffing, I press my fist against my temple, I'm too tired for a conversation in their volume.

"Kindly Ones." The greeting is barely above a moan and I dunk my biscuit into the steaming hot coffee. "Take a seat, though I believe this is not the right time."

"Except it is." I meet the Crone's blind stare.

"We bring news for you, half-sister." Says the Maiden.

"And we know of your visit to the Lightbringer." The Mother slides my cup across the table, I'm left without a drink. "The threats Hell made."

"Of course you do." I lean back, and my chair wobbles. The café has a cramped little deck, constructed of uneven planks of wood. It's supposed to stop cars from entering the alley, but the vehicles still somehow squirm by it. "But I didn't call upon you, why would you tell me anything?"

"Niceties." They pass my coffee between them. "We are the Kindly Ones, are we not?"

"I tell what you are; fickle. Half-sister or no, if time brings it, you could easily turn against me." I groan.

"That's a fight we do not wish for."

"As we are equal in power."

"Purpose helps us weave our tapestry."

"Our battle would cost the universe, so do not irk me as you do now, not today." I get to my feet, if they only want to test their riddles on me, I'm not in. I leave the tip tucked under the ashtray.

"Hear this, Dream Lord prepares to Hell."

My fingers freeze mid-air, a coin drops and clanks against the iron tabletop.

"Why?"

"His helm was last seen there, he wants it back."

"And there is no stopping him."

"Where is he?" I fumble, yank my powers back to me, and wrangle the sheer force of nature suddenly engulfing me. "Where is he right now."

"En route."

"Constantine is his destination. Look for her."

In my hurry, I forget to ask them why. They are not famous for exchanging information for nothing in return, if they are playing a game they managed to get me. Yet I feel their assistance while stepping off the Italian cityscape and the void welcomes me back.

A/N: It's just... 3700 words... not sure where it came from. I'm tired, so sorry for the mistakes if you find any. And enjoy the start of the plot, there will be more to come. It's 3am, I think I'm gonna go to sleep. Morpheus waits for me, we will discuss the next chapter.

Thank you for all the love you are giving this fic <3

Also would anyone like to join a taglist? should I make one?

#neil gaiman #morpheus x reader #dream x reader #fic:assorodus #the sandman

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pagiecakewritesstuff · 2 years

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5. MORPHEUS|DREAM OF THE ENDLESS X READER/OC

Assorodus meaning "silvery water".

SERIES MASTERLIST

The little critter stirred restlessly on my palm, impatient to fly. I placed my hand over her wings and she stilled, twisting her neck to look up at me. She was gorgeous, dissimilar to any other of them, wearing a white vest of feathers across her chest. When I choose her I didn't think she would turn out like this, seemingly she retained something from her mortal life that the previous ravens did not, giving her such distinct features.

Lucienne awaited me by the palace gates, along with the three gatekeepers. I told her ahead of time to anticipate me.

"Is this who I think it is?" She leaned closer, peering between my fingers. "My, she is a beauty."

"Her name is Jessamy." The bird kept to herself, dubious and somewhat fearful. Only hours ago she passed in her sleep and woke up as a raven in the Dreaming. This new world around her was new and uncertain. "Jessamy, this is Lucienne."

"You selected her too? Like Aristeas?" Lucienne showed us the way.

"I did." The gothic corridors welcomed me as a regular guest, halls opened up for us. "How is he?"

"As you would expect." Halting in front of a door Lucienne nodded towards it. "This is where he had his chambers set up now."

Strange, I couldn't point out what was unusual about the way we came, but as Lucienne mentioned it, it all made sense.

"He switched rooms?"

"Switched the whole wing. Mervyn was especially happy about that."

He was grieving over a loss that shouldn't have happened, I understood.

"Well, I have something to make him feel better." My fingers closed around the doorknob. "Jessamy will be the last, she will be forever."

My body is made of freezing water, glaciers collide in it, shaping, and building my inner turmoil. I let the cold London wind besiege my form as I tread through the glistening wet, slippery glass towards the cathedral. The weather insist on being horrible and only turned for the worse upon my arrival. It mirrors my mood without failure as the sudden visit of the Kindly Ones vividly replays in my mind. What they were implying by telling me that Morpheus prepares for Hell is still a mystery, yet one thing is clear, they must have an ulterior motive, a thread hidden in their tapestry to propel the universe forward. No matter how close I am to them in rank, they wouldn't give anything away unless it serves a purpose for them. Something brews on the horizon and I find myself to be truly uncertain. I tug on the neck of my coat, it provides little to no warmth, not that the icy air bothers me, I just miss the comfort of it. Between destinations I changed my attire, not wanting to stick out, but not many loiter around, it's too late for that.

I still haven't figured out how I am going to present myself to him. I don't turn up in the mortal world by accident, especially not right by his side, he will assume that I'm here for him. I shouldn't let him on though, best to keep this as a secret without offending the Fates. No matter what their plan might be, it's not Morpheus' to know, nor it is mine. What's written in Destiny's book cannot be changed or foreseen, we must not fight against the current. In my heart, I wish I could offer to go to Hell for his helm instead of him, but that would mean that I'm interfering with Endless affairs, something I'm not permitted to do. Though helping him is not far from that either. The rekindled flame of protection towards him burns lonely in the glacier-wastes of my soul.

"You too now?" Without notice, I almost pass by the old woman, even though she is within arm's reach of me. I descry the face that fends off the iron teeth of time as years give way to years, complemented by her usual choice of headwear, a straw hat, decorated by a little, wilted flower.

"Mad Hettie." I lean against the lamppost beside her as the wind attempts to topple me over. A smile creeps up to my lips and she reciprocates it. I haven't had a chance to run into her since I discovered Morpheus in that basement at the beginning of the past century. "It's good to see you again."

"No, no." Pointing repeatedly at the cathedral doors she shakes her head. I hear an uneasy rumbling from inside, raw power being released. It irks me, like a tirelessly buzzing fly, nothing major and I already feel it dying out. Whoever is in that building is safe now. "You are here to see him, not me. I'm too old for your demure little lies, drop the sweet talk."

"Is it that obvious?" Huffing, my breath fleets away as white puffs of air. "He is in there?"

"With the Constantine girl." She replies, fiddling with one of the plastic bags hanging off her forearm, filled with her baubles. It rattles and startled by the noise a raven shoots into the sky. Morpheus is here all right.

"I thought as much." The bird circles above, and I watch. It must be the same one Lucienne sent for me upon Dream's escape.

"The two of you are attached by the hip recently." Hettie cackles and totters back and forth like she said something truly funny. Surly I ward off her comment, focusing on how the tall marble walls reflect the streetlights in front of us. Strange to visit the house of God hours after departing Hell, no doubt Lucifer would find it amusing. On the other hand, I don't muse on it too much.

"Don't make such a bitter face child." The only human who insists on calling me like that, 'child', not that I mind it and it looks like she neither, even after once explaining to her that my age is beyond her comprehension. Mortals tend to think that two hundred years is forever, and why wouldn't they? For a being that is meant to live for a flash of time compared to me and the Endless, two centuries is indeed long. "That's not a bad thing."

As if she has any idea.

"But not a good one either, Hettie." The cathedral's tall doors part, and light streams out into the night. Through the opening a shadow slips out, it trails around on the swirly-white slabs of stone, and peers up at the sky, apprehensive and adamantine. The raven is gone, but my attention is on his midnight-black coat anyways, its tails flap in the wind, which he is unfazed by. Twin stars glint beneath his knitted brow, his stature familiar, I would recognise it among a thousand, he is so unlike anything ever created. He seems to have regained some of his strength by the way he carries himself, light and shadowy, as I'm used to it. Like an onyx vortex of dreams and nightmares alike. Morpheus sulks to the stairs leading up to the elevated ground of the cathedral, then stops mid-step and I can feel him scrutinise me, piercing a hole in my chest, finding his way to my heart. Aghast, his head tilts to the side, just the slightest, his secret body language that is meant to be hard to read for most, tells me I'm unexpected, yet welcome at the same time. With veiled hurry, he ascends, heading straight towards us, blades of grass slanting out of his way. Mad Hettie pats my arm.

"I should leave the two of you to it." Giggling she shuffles down the pavement to disappear into the deep London night. "I have no interest in your cosmical matters anyways. It's good to have you back milord."

Morpheus redirects his momentarily distracted gaze from her to me, in it hangs his question, unsaid. His fingers flex at his side, tendons catching the moonlight, white skin taut and the wind quiets down. Even the darkness forgets to breathe, it just pulsates around him.

"I know what I said." I bid farewell to Hettie, but she is already too far to see it. We look into each other deeply, trying to seek out thoughts, I want to capture his hand in mine, to reassure myself that the threats of Lucifer have not reached him yet. I get a hold of myself before I have a chance to act. I'm glad that I came when I did, and he is still in the waking world.

"Yet you are here." His voice resonates in the back of my mind, even though his lips move, so I'm sure he speaks out loud. The shadows around him envelop me and I don't feel the cold anymore. "I thought it was uncertain whether you would come back."

"Plans change sometimes," I note the two other figures leaving the cathedral while conversing, a whiff of sulfur trails behind them. A child of Lilith before God, interesting. "I will join you to Hell."

"To Hell? How do you know?" Confusion clouds his features, but secretly he is glad that he doesn't have to face the netherworld alone. If possible the shadows draw closer and the bulb in the lamppost flickers, then dims and I inhale the darkness.

The two silhouettes separate before coming down the stairs, one of them a priest, the other Joanna Constantine herself, wearing a thick white trenchcoat, creating a contrast between her and the grey street. Coyly she steps right into our personal sphere and the wind picks up again, she interrupts without an iota of remorse before I could answer Dream's query. Her eyes linger on me without awkwardness and I have a feeling she is assessing me like a rare curiosity.

"And who this would be?"

Morpheus waits, so I can introduce myself, but I step aside, only regarding Joanna with a brief nod.

"Carry on with your business, I'm merely here to observe." Joanna inspects me with genuine interest as I depart. I'm certain she knows what kind of beings we are, how far from humans and she is not afraid in the slightest. She turns to Morpheus, I walk away. I shouldn't acknowledge how close they stand to each other, yet I do. To distract myself I find the aforementioned raven perching on a nearby bench, a shine of ebony feathers in the night. I take a seat next to him, his wings flutter as a greeting.

"Matthew right?" Perking up, his bead-like eyes brighten.

"Yes, your highness." He snaps his beak and I wonder if Lucienne told him to use titles or he came up with it. He is new after all. "I thought you wouldn't remember me."

"Please don't call me like that." I lean back, so we are on the same level, as he is on the backrest.

"Sorry." Anxiously he ruffles his feathers and turnes inward on himself. I spare him and change the subject.

"I remember each of his ravens, Matthew, I select them by hand."

"How exactly?"

"By writing." Even with him unable to show human expressions I know he doesn't understand. He will one day.

Suddenly, afflicting heavy pressure, Morpheus' gaze advances on us, then ends up on the little bird. He leaves Joanna, steps calculated and judicious. His eyes flicker between me and Matthew.

"Who are you?" Our knees almost touch as Dream tries to position himself between me and the raven, practically hovering over me. Is he trying to protect me in case my new feathery friend is an unwelcome tag along hiding in plain sight? I'm not sure. "Tell me your name."

Matthew balances on the bench while trying to disappear behind my shoulder, so I gently nudge him back towards the open, encouraging him.

"Go on," I whisper to him. "Tell the King of Dreams, your master, who you are."

"It's, uh, Matthew sir." Croaking the little bird looks at me helplessly, imagining thousands of other places where he could be. I smooth out a few feathers around his neck and to my surprise, he leans into the touch. However, I'm the next one in the crossfire, though after eons I learned how to whither an interrogation by Morpheus, unlike Matthew.

"Did you arrange this?"

"Matthew being here? No." I stand, my body almost falling against his due to our proximity. His shadows shudder. "Assigning you a new raven? That was my doing."

"Why?" He is hurt and I can smell the searing wound on his soul reopening. I remember the crimson blood dripping down the glass orb, right onto that stray rat's plate. I wiped it down myself. "Jessamy was supposed to be the last."

"Yes, but she was killed and even I can't do anything about that." I'm stern. Her purpose was unfinished when it landed back on my table, I had to assign it to someone else against my customs. So I came upon Matthew, who with a few additional words became the new candidate for a raven. "Dream of the Endless always has a raven. Accept him, if not for you, then for me."

That gets to him and even though his rigidness remains, I can see a wall shatter behind his eyes before he has a chance to build it up again brick by brick. This happens in a mere second, then he is back to his composed self.

"I will take care of him so he is not underfoot." I offer my arm to Matthew who cheerfully hops on it and murmurs something about his feet being cold, then tiptoes on the textile of my coat before settling."

"I told Lucienne that I do not require a raven at this time." He is adamant.

"Please." I retaliate and he groans in annoyance. Both of us know that he will not say no.

"Sir," the raven quips, cawing mid-sentence. "Sir, she is getting away."

Indeed, Joanna Constantine is long gone it's only the three of us on the street. Dream glances between me and the way the woman must have left, torn between what to do. His pouch of sand is slipping out of his hands, just because he wasn't paying attention while trying to convince me he is in no need of a companion animal.

"Go," I reassure him. "We will follow at our own pace."

Morpheus dips his chin, thankful in his way, and then slips into the night. I ponder whether if its a new day already, the moon at its highest. I and Matthew idle along the streets, I vaguely tell him how I wrote him into being a raven, adding all the details I can afford. Frankly, he is a good listener and to confirm that he tells me that he likes stories a lot. A fitting choice for Dream then, on this remark he eases up a bit. He is eager to do good, that is certain.

"Is the boss always like this, or I just caught him in a bad mood?" He clambers up to my shoulder, wings flapping while I briefly halt to browse a shop window. Pens are on display, from elegant to simple with matching ink pots.

"To most, he might seem cold or uncaring, but you will learn the opposite." We continue our walk, passing under the lights of dull streetlamps. "With time."

"Lucky me." His talons grab onto my padded coat as the swing of my strides quickens. "I don't even know who he is or that Jessamy you talked about."

"Jessamy was his raven before you, for over six hundred years, devoted and loyal. She died trying to help him, the Dream of the Endless." Among many other names. Matthew can barely climb out under from today's mountain of new information thrown at him, so I don't mention it.

"And you are?"

"Something entirely different." The heavens open and delicately the rain begins to patter on the rooftops, chasing away the silence of the air. "Yet very much the same."

"I don't even know who I am. A couple of days ago I apparently died in my sleep and now I'm a bird. I used to have thumbs--"

"We are here." I veer towards an arched arcade that leads from one street to another, just before it starts pouring and little brooklets of rainwater begin to trail down the pavement washing away the muck and trash. Cigarette butts float twirling towards a drain hole, like little white toxic fish.

"And what are we going to do?"

"Now we wait." I should have time to mull over what we can expect in hell, Lucifer will be delighted to see me again soo soon. I can't let them play their games on me, not while Dream is there, ready to be used as bait, as a means to get to me. Without his tools, he is still vulnerable to the Lightbringer and on my side, he might prove to be an easy target. Making certain sacrifices to interfere would come with a heavy price on my part while invoking Hell's rage. If I didn't already.

Matthew has different ideas about keeping quiet.

"So you are a writer?" He flies down to the ground, pecking on the grime between the paving. He finds a chewed bubblegum and pokes it away.

"Some say the first." I watch as the gum sticks to his beak, and then amidst flailing wings, he tries to get it off. Eventually, he succeeds.

"And what do you write?" He asks after regaining his composure.

"Purpose. I write purpose for the world and everything beyond it." I hum, smiling at his curiosity, then I weave a sheaf of paper into existence, floating in front of me, followed by an ornate fountain pen. I only let them show for a second before an incoming gust of wind carries them away.

"You are old, huh?"

I raise an arched bow at him, amused by his candour. He shifts back, uncertain whether he stepped over a line, but loosens up when sees my grin and I laugh. During our brief time together he convinced me that he was a good choice to write him into a raven.

"What made you think?"

"Just a feeling."

I nod approvingly, then I turn my head to the side as I perceive the vortex of night and stars, Morpheus rounds the corner. He looks over us as if he didn't expect me to find my way here, and then he positions himself against the wall opposite of me without a word. He is tense, running low on patience, the image of frustration, locked away in a tight box, ready to burst, to his credit he contains himself and hides behind a stoic mask. But when we share glances he silently offers me a spare key.

"Did you find it?" At this point, he isn't even confounded by the fact that I know why he came to visit the waking world.

"She went up for it." I apologetically refuse the metaphoric key, it swims with the rain to the drain hole.

"I say as someone who was recently a human," Matthew hops between us, drawing our attention to himself. " Human beings cannot be trusted."

"No." Morpheus agrees hesitantly while spying on my disapproving frown.

"If I were Joanna Constantine, I'd be up there cutting a deal with Rachel to keep the sand, then cut the dream sand with real sand and sell it to the highest bidder."

Our eyes meet over the arcade and I shrug, back flush with the cool wall behind me. That is a possibility, but only as much as her giving over the authentic pouch after all what human would want to summon the wrath of an Endless?

"But then, I wasn't the best person when I was a person." The raven concludes. "We can't all be Jessamy, who was apparently perfect in every way."

I inhale sharply, envisaging Morpheus' anger, but instead, he impedes, hands deep in his pockets, closed off. He swallows, throat bobbing. To a degree, he regrets what he said.

"Matthew, I--"

I determine that this is the moment to let them be, just the two of them to work out their indifferencies, Morpheus watches as I slip away, he doesn't try to stop or follow me for that matter. My sudden debut at the cathedral is still a mystery for him, he might try to ask me about it later, but I would be surprised if he tries to press for answers. I find the door and trace the doorbell's buttons, each aligned with a name, hard to read thanks to the raindrops sitting on them, but each of them I can recall if I think hard enough. Which one of them has it? None of them would survive the temporary ownership of such a powerful object after it's taken away. Tools like this pouch of sand, when not restrained, feed on souls only to utterly destroy them in the end. We should expect Death to come around soon.

His sigh caresses my cheek over my shoulder. He did come after me then.

"Can you feel it too?" His timbre barely above a whisper, he speaks directly into my ear. I reach out tentatively with my mind, groping about a shred of Dreaming, a shred of him. It's there, heavy and laced with emaciated, hungering flesh, it seems to have infected a whole flat, blanketing it with nothing but pure decaying dream essence. Distinctly the smell of the sea is there too, grains of sand roasted by the sun, an aspect of beauty. Atrophy of a dying organism, while its mind wanders.

"It's the sand isn't it?" Morpheus gets to the door, hand on the knob. "It's murderous."

"It wasn't meant for humans." The lock clicks at his will, opening without a key.

"I will wait for you outside." This is his task, he should finish it alone.

Then he is gone. Yet the unmistakable presence of an Endless lingers, only slightly different from his.

"You can show yourself now." She materialises out of thin air, a statue of patience and kindness. "Death of the Endless."

She welcomes me with one of those compassionate smiles she usually reserves for the departed. Must have been a few good years since I've seen her, both of us having a lot to deal with. While counting each other as friends, our relationship consists of vaguely encountering each other in the cosmos from time to time, heading from one business to the other. She hands me a parchment, to which I have committed my words mere three decades ago.

"It's a shame." Death says. "She will be gone soon."

"Still, we are one step closer to balance. The King of Dreams will have his sand." I tuck the paper into one of the inner pockets of my coat.

"I read into it, I hope you don't mind." She admits her shoulder brushing mine, pulling me into a half-hug, her hand resting on my hip. I lean against her, finding comfort in Death's gentle embrace. "It was beautifully composed."

"Thank you. And I don't mind." In an upper window, the light flickers. "I rarely reuse them. It just doesn't feel right."

She angles her head as if wanting to take a better look at me, her hair falls around her face like a black halo, reminding me of the light of the Sunless Lands.

"Thank you for taking care of him. It might not seem like it, but he needs it."

"I know. What I don't know is how much longer I can be with him. Things are turning for the worse." I sigh and the weight of the situation pulls me down.

"Do you want to talk about it?"

"I have a suspicion that would be unwise." We let go of each other. Constantine barges out of the house, umbrella at the ready. She passes us, without so much as a glance, then dives into the arcade for shelter. It's still pouring. We are invisible to her. "Just be there for him, soon and also if I can't be."

"All right."

Acting on impulse I give the paper back to Death.

"Keep it. A gift from me to you." She closes her fingers around it and neatly folds it away. "If you don't want him to see you, you should go now. I can hear him coming down."

Her lips form a silent thank you, and then Death of the Endless is back to work. Just as her form fades Morpheus is out on the street.

"You had to kill for it." The rain avoids us in a large circle, the atmosphere humid and suffocating.

"Out of mercy." He is not pleased that he had to do it, killing.

"I know." Our rainless circles join. "I never shunned you for taking a life when it was necessary."

"No." He holds the leather pouch, observing it, and then he tightens the drawstrings. His sand is now secure.

"Say goodbye to her. I'll wait."

Their farewell is brief. He makes a promise, and then Constantine is gone, clad in a veil of grief. I wait for his call to descent, preparing for the inevitable. Whatever will happen, I swore to protect him. A long time ago.

Morpheus beckons, I heed it like a command, then says:

"We are going to Hell."

A/N: Pew, ok, THIS is the longest chapter soo far. Bear with me, I'm going to uni soon, the updates might slow down a bit, but that doesn't mean that I'm abandoning this fic. I love it. And I love your comments, thank you.The flashback scene is a bit shorter than usual, otherwise, this would have been immensely long. I might go back and add to it later tho.

#neil gaiman sandman #morpheus x reader #dream x reader #fic:assorodus #the sandman

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pagiecakewritesstuff · 2 years

Text

7. MORPHEUS|DREAM OF THE ENDLESS X READER|OC

Assorodus meaning "silvery water".

SERIES MASTERLIST

I knew him for so long by then with all of his secrets, the hidden corners of his soul and he mapped out mine all the same. The thought of knowing something that he did not was absurd, the feeling like a thorn in my side, aching with every breath. The truth just tried to force itself out to the open from behind the bars of my teeth, especially in his proximity. Yet I made a promise to his brother before he left his post, leaving behind his realm, his purpose. I let him take my writing then, it was a gift after all. And he was too close to my heart to take it back.

I retreated to Destiny's domain, for he was the only one who shared my clandestine secret. Alongside him I walked the many paths of his garden, his face obscured by his white, tattered hood. We conversed about what was to come.

"You have declared unlikely promises in the past centuries." He pointed out to me, the chain of his hefty book clinking with the rhythm of our strides, the gravel grating beneath our feet. "And moreover I noticed that you tend to put your duties behind these vows of adoration when the occasion calls for it.

"You are to call me feckless, Destiny?" The languid breeze fluttered between the folds of our robes, his alabaster, mine a deep burgundy red. "Albeit I think there is little harm in my agreement with your brother."

"Your words tie you to two of my brothers, which one do you mean?"

"The younger one."

Destruction, even while abandoning his role, was the least problematic after Destiny, out of all the sons of Time. I had trusted him to make his own choices, if he wanted to go it had to be. At least accorded by the Endless walking next to me. "He was adamant you know?"

Of course, he did.

"You have given too much hope to Dream." He announced, leading the conversation. My advantage in years didn't count in the presence of Destiny. Sometimes I wondered if he was born with an older spirit than mine.

"By telling him that I will stay by his side?"

"Yes." His shackle glinted in the sunlight. Not a speck of rust, as if the years didn't count in his domain.

"I said that ages ago." When Orpheus met his fate. "I'm not always with him anyways. I have a role to fill."

"Staying by his side doesn't necessarily mean that the two of you are physically residing on the same plane." Correcting me he took a quick glimpse in his leather-bound tome. "It means that you are at ready when he has need of you. And that is a dangerous promise to give anyone. Especially looking at your significance in the universe."

"I can deny his call if I wish to do so." Now that was a lie, because I couldn't imagine a situation where I would have ignored him. I learned that all too well.

"There will be a time when you will not be able to get to him, whether you would want to or not." He informed me, speaking of the future.

"When will this happen?"

"Soon, for the days are mere seconds for our kind." We halted.

"Why are you telling me this?"

"To let you prepare. It might seem like my interior is cold, but I too have a heart and it would fill with sorrow upon seeing a friend suffer." Even for his blindness, I felt his deeply penetrating gaze. "He will come to you today and ask questions."

I supposed he would. And I knew what I had to do.

"I will say nothing to him." I breathed, an oath made with incredible difficulty. "Thank you Destiny."

The nails of Mazikeen dig into my skin, forming bruised indents, but I'm unattached from the reality of the situation, swimming in the muddy bliss of relief, slowly drowning. Like a distant echo throbbing behind my eyeballs, I repeat the chant, a mantra that was meant to be, that someone wrote for me a long time ago, louder than anything else. I saved him, I saved him, I saved him... Nothing else matters from now, whether he emerges victorious or falls, Hell cannot grasp him in its claws. It's an out-of-body experience, poisonous like the fens bordering Fairy lands, yet I'm drunk for it, I swallow it up until it's all oblivion.

My teary smile collides with his dreaded expression, horror clinging to his features upon understanding what he agreed to. I find him soo beautiful like this, in his fear he is more human than anything else I've ever seen before, raw, torn down to a deeply biological level of panic, composed of micro signs all screaming out to me. It's mesmerising. Carnal. Expertly hidden behind his mask that he keeps up for most, like a marble face carved before history, mimicking the features of a god, yet still human. For he being godlike lies in his hidden humanity, an aspect of him that he likes to deny time and time again.

He doesn't suspect it, but by that one look, he splinters my ribcage, pierces my lungs and wrenches my heart out, holding it as it beats on, bloody and happy. Singing in rhythmic thumps of life. I don't ask him to give it back. Through the hole in my chest, all suffused feelings erupt, flowing freely.

Tugging sharply on my tethering consciousness Matthew hops to my feet as Mazikeen lets me go. Shakily I kneel to the ground, the sudden turn of Lucifer accepting the challenge still registering.

"He is going to win right?" The raven flaps his wings. I fail to answer him the first time so he asks again. "Right?"

"I'm uncertain." Stuttering, my thoughts run wild. What befell Morpheus drained his strength, reclaiming the sand only restored a mere amount of it. "However, he must not suffer for me. I will stop the fight if he does."

"What? No." Matthew ruffles his feathers, sending down quilts fluttering around in every direction. He is anxious. "That would mean..."

"That I stay here, yes." I hold his gaze, my mind being cemented in the present again. Step after step. If it comes to it Morpheus has to go on without me. "He will try to convince you to return to the Dreaming, but do not obey him. I need you here. You will make him leave in case he is defeated."

"This is nonsense, " he retorts, snapping his beak. "We will not leave you here."

"Please." I pet his head and he goes silent. "Do this for me, Matthew."

Mutely the bird nods, then fly off to his master, landing in front of him as molten leather pours over Dream's body, dark as night, blackened by the flames of his ire. Now he hates the Morningstar and the daemon Choronzon. Maybe he hates me too, for offering myself instead of him. Good. May this fuel him in the battle he is about to fight. While he talks to Matthew his eyes stray to me repeatedly as if making sure I'm not sucked off into some pit in Hell suddenly ordered by Lucifer. Faintly I hear his chant too.

I will not leave you, I will not leave you, I will not leave you...

Rumbling powers strain against each other as the duel begins. Matthew finds refuge on the architrave above me, his conversation with Morpheus seemingly unfruitful. At least he stays. I'm glad.

The first move is Lucifer's, they set the meter. I breathe in deeply, steeling myself for what's to come, then enter the plane of their battle, beyond realities and all things known. It's the oldest game, as I'm familiar with it, a contest of imagination and wit. I watched many play out in the olden ages, so I have practice in hiding myself between their thoughts of offence as a mere spectator.

The dark abyss brings forth the surroundings of my creation until my feet hit solid ground. A direwolf unfolds from the darkness, fur rising on its back, lethal prowler, stalking a prey yet invisible to me. As a defence against the advancing predator, a hunter, mounted on a warm-blooded steed, charges the beast, arrow nocked, ready to fire. The wolf, stabbed and bleeding, spreads in the dirt and crumbles to dust, from which a serpent shoots out, horse-biting. The stallion neighs in alarm as the poisoned teeth sink into its flesh keenly, ready to kill. The rush of venom gives birth to a bird of prey. A hooked beak and ripping talons soar through the air, circling me before taking on the snake. The turns blur into each other, but I know the eagle was him, as I only let him perceive me, staying hidden from the Lightbringer. Having little time to relish in his victory, the bird pummels into the ground, warm-life destroyed.

Blades of grass rouse from nothingness, the scene shifts into rolling hills and plains that I'm acquainted with and colourful speckles of flowers spring towards the Sun. It's his field of flowers, the one I gave him with my prose, healing slowly but steadily, being accumulated with flora. In the distance I see two hazy figures laying by each other. A memory. Through the veil of the duel he searches for my eyes, I let him find them. Sweet Mnemosyne, so he remembers still of our bliss from the age when all was well and the upcoming injuries of history didn't concern us. My heart swells.

In blinding agony this small sphere of safety is cremated by an all-exploding nova, rendering the landscape into the dreary image of Hell. Dream stumbles onto the ashes, weak and burnt, uttering his turn to the scorched earth. A swirling universe replaces the destruction, encompassing stars and honing all of creation. I hear my song sounding from thousands of sources, plain and aural. Then the creeping quietness murders it all, anti-life mars the colours grey and black.

I separate myself from the doom, just as Morpheus collapses, arms cradling his sides, unable to catch himself. On instinct, I throw myself towards him as he now shivers on the floor, skin cold and clammy. I lower myself to him, place his head upon my lap and he fists the hem of my coat, desperate for warmth.

"I..." he writhes in pain, succumbing to the deadly bite of the anti-life, as he attempts to push himself up. He wants to fight on, so I press my palm against his forehead, soothing. Matthew lands next to us.

"It's all right." Caressing his cheek I aim to give him a genuine, calming smile, one that is not tainted with fear, and he trembles. A tear slips from his eye. "Let this go, don't hurt for me."

"No." He curls around himself, around me. "Not..."

"My heart will be with you Dream, as promised." It's a bold statement to remind him, it's against everything I've forbidden myself, but I can't bear the sight of him defeated. "Leave me and don't suffer."

Lucifer towers above us, booming with anticipated victory.

"Still with us Dream?"

Matthew answers before I can, emboldened and eager to protect. A good companion.

"He is, and it's his move." Then he quails and adds, "Your Majesty."

"There are no more moves." The Lightbringer ogles us on the ground before their boots, enthralled by the sight. "What can survive the anti-life?"

Morpheus moans my name, dripping with agony, drawing my eyes to his lips, slowly turning blue as tremors ransack his lithe frame.

"For you, I have to."

"You have done enough, Dream of the Endless." I brush his hair back, falling over his brow. "Tend your fields of flowers, keep them in bloom for me."

"Boss, listen to me." Matthew inches closer, wings fluttering agitatedly. "You know what can survive the anti-life? You. Dreams don't fucking die. Not if you believe in them."

A prose springs into mind, one written of the old, yet new, albeit already forgotten, as if it never happened. It reflects our dire situation like it's meant to be.

"Let me tell you a story, for you are it's Prince." I prop his head up and he nuzzles against my stomach, icy and drained. I lean over him, enclosing him in my embrace, shutting Hell and all of its twisted darkness out. My voice drops low, not even Matthew can hear what I am saying. "Imagine a vessel, it floats through a universe, vast like ours, yet devoid of life, courtesy of a rampaging star-vortex. You are there too, carrying the remainder of your ream and you put your faith into this little girl, departed, but still ghostly around. This girl dreams and others dream with her. Say her name, for you told her you would."

And then, in his eyes I see the shine of remembrance, the faded memory unearths from the depths of his mind. Morpheus nods, gathering strength and I help him sit up first.

"I am..." Relying on me heavily he stands, knees buckling. "Hope."

Overwhelming ethereal light floods the room, dainty as it pours over the columns, so blinding in its reflection on the marble that I have to shield my eyes from it while Morpheus turns to hide in the crook of my neck, his rough breaths grazing over my pulse. We stand fused together in this luminescent storm, withering its forces.

"Hope." The jovial grin wipes from Lucifer's face, which instead fills with incredulity.

"Well, Lightbringer?" Morpheus holds onto me, as If I were the greatest prize for his victory, not his helm. Hell will not take me today. "It's your move. What is it that kills hope?"

Lucifer struggles to form a response, they are shocked into utter defeat.

"Choronzon, give him his helm!"

While the matter is being settled, as the daemon is not easily parted from his newfound treasure, I feel Dream's eyes dragging across my features, his short, still somewhat ragged exhales trailing along the edge of my mouth. It's a sentiment of his, angling himself to such an intimate closeness in public, a way to thank me. He bends towards me, his weight still supported by my arms, he needs time to recover.

"Your helm is waiting for you," I tell him and he reluctantly stands up straight to take back what is rightfully his. Matthew reclaims his spot on my shoulder.

"He did it!" The bird exclaims gleefully. "I knew he will win."

"Indeed." But something onerous lies behind all of this. I have shown myself to him today in a manner that I shouldn't have allowed and I can't take that back. I'm not sure I would even if I had the power to alter the happenings of today.

Maybe it's time to let myself have a little freedom, a little love over the weight of my role.

"Writer," Lucifer calls, menacing and aggravated. Dream stands in the entryway, his helm tucked to his side. "Might I have a word with you?"

Morpheus heaves, ready to interrupt, but I stop him with a subtle flick of my wrist. He knows what I mean, so I signal Matthew to join his master.

"Very well," I say. "The duel is decided, you cannot possibly find a way to contain me here for now, isn't that right Morningstar?"

"The Dream Lord and his raven may leave." Wavering slightly Dream does so. "You will meet them outside the gates."

"What do you want Lucifer?" My words have an unmissable bite to them.

"I ask you again for the right that is mine."

"Which is?" The fires flare up around us, Lucifer fumes.

"The control over my purpose. Surely that's not a huge request for you. After all, I left plenty of time to ponder over it."

"My answer still stands." I brush off their requisition. "May Hell prosper Lucifer Morningstar, farewell to you."

"We will be at the ready." Their voice ripples after me, down the corridors, recited by the walls like an ill omen. "First sign of weakness and you are ours."

I remember Destiny's words and I fear the Lightbringer's curse, but the only thing I can do is to pray that the day of my fall adjourns until I have a secure plan to prevent it.

Morpheus lingers by the gate we entered Hell through. He is still clad in leather, his features creased by the exhaust of the battle, yet he perks up when I approach, expectant and relieved. My brow gently collides with his and we melt into each other in the barren hellscape. He shivers against me, his breaths failing to come out as whole. For a moment we can rest, his hand sneaking around my torso, pulling me closer. I can smell his strain, the sweat of his endure, yet it's sweet, comforting. I feel like in his grasp I could brave all the horrors of the universe.

"You can't risk yourself for me like this again." His timbre rumbles in his chest. "The thought of it is too heavy on my mind."

I snuggle into his embrace, warm and safe, revulsion overshadowed by the pleasure of his touch. I saved him. He saved me in return.

"I would like to talk about us. Properly for once. What do you say?" He asks sanguinely. "I feel like..."

"Your feelings are right," I admit. "We should talk."

He smiles the smallest of smiles, truer than anything I saw from him in recent years.

"Meet me in the Dreaming then." He pulls away, breathing kisses to my half-lidded eyes, one to each of them. "Rest and I shall come back to you with my ruby, my power restored."

"I'll await your return, Morpheus."

He disappears with Matthew in a whorl of sand and ash, the promise of our conversation nestled into my soul. It's a good feeling, uplifting. I wouldn't change it.

#morpheus x reader #morpheus x oc #dream x reader #dream x oc #the sandman x reader #the sandman x oc #lucifer morningstar #destiny of the endless

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