Note: This is a spin-off chapter somewhere in between Bound in Eternity events, but it can also be read as a standalone story.
Pairing: Morpheus x wife!reader
CW/TW: fluff
You wake before you understand anything at all.
Not to fear.
Not to dreams.
Just… to warmth.
Your body is wrapped in quiet heat, in something solid and unmovable and endlessly familiar. Cool dark fabric brushes your thigh — no, not fabric — skin. You shift slightly, instinctively curling into it.
An arm tightens around your waist.
Not possessive.
Just certain.
You do not open your eyes at once.
You listen.
To the hush of something vast beyond the room.
To the soft breath warm against the back of your neck.
To the steady, impossible reality of him behind you.
Morpheus.
You smile before you even see him.
You move just enough to turn in his hold, slow and careful, as if the moment itself might shatter if you rush it. When you finally open your eyes, he is already watching you.
Of course he is.
Morpheus lies on his side, close enough that you can feel the quiet heat of his body, his dark hair loose against the pillow, his expression not the face of a King —
—but of a man who does not expect anything to be demanded of him right now.
His hand rests against your hip, steady, warm, real.
“Good morning,” you whisper.
His gaze softens.
“You have returned to yourself,” he says.
You reach up, brushing your fingers against his cheek. He does not flinch. Does not still.
He leans into your touch as though it were something he has been waiting for far longer than he will ever admit.
“I like waking up here,” you say.
“I know,” he answers.
It sounds dangerously close to fondness.
You shift closer, the sheet sliding down your bare skin without either of you attempting to pull it back. He is warm beneath your palm, his chest rising slow and steady. Human. Close. Yours.
You draw a lazy circle just over his heart.
“This is my favorite part,” you murmur.
“Which?”
“Before the day finds me.”
Something unreadable flickers across his eyes.
Then he speaks quietly — carefully.
“This morning,” Morpheus says, “I will only be yours.”
It is not a vow.
It is something much more fragile than that.
You lean forward and press your forehead into his chest, smiling.
“You belong to me only until I ask for coffee.”
His brow furrows.
“…Coffee.”
“Yes. The human ritual of survival.”
He exhales softly through his nose.
“It always sounds violent when you describe mundane things.”
You shift back and grin at him.
“Can you make me some?”
His expression becomes painfully, tragically blank.
“Define… make.”
You laugh.
“You put beans in a thing, and hot water happens, and then life becomes worth living again.”
Morpheus watches you carefully.
“…This sounds… unreliable.”
You sit up slightly, the sheet slipping lower without thought.
“Come on,” you urge. “I’ll show you where it is.”
He starts to move.
Then hesitates.
Reaches for his robe.
“No,” you say immediately.
His eyes flick back to you.
“No?”
You shake your head with a lazy smile.
“Don’t ruin the aesthetic. Go like that.”
He is very still.
Then, quietly:
“I am not dressed.”
“I know.”
Something dark and deeply amused stirs behind his eyes.
“…So be it.”
He rises from the bed without ceremony, unapologetically bare in the dim blue hush of the room, his long silhouette crossing the stone floor like something unreal and very, very inappropriate for anyone wise enough to be in charge of realms.
You grin into the pillow.
You hear distant movement.
A cupboard opening.
Closing.
Silence.
Then:
“…Where,” Morpheus calls gravely, “are the beans.”
“In a jar.”
“…What is a jar.”
You cover your mouth, laughing.
After several suspiciously loud sounds and what might have been the accidental creation of steam where steam should not be, Morpheus eventually returns… holding a cup.
It is steaming.
It is dark.
It is possibly alive.
“Here,” he says solemnly, offering it like an ancient artifact.
You take a sip.
Pause.
“…Morpheus.”
“Yes?”
“You have invented suffering.”
He studies your face critically.
“Too strong.”
“It tastes like regret.”
He frowns.
“I will adjust.”
You simply laugh and pull him down onto the bed beside you, one hand curling around his wrist.
He sits.
Close.
Still undressed.
Unbothered.
You lean against him as you drink, slowly, carefully, like it might suddenly attack.
“It’s still perfect,” you decide.
He looks mildly offended.
Then relieved.
Then soft again.
“I am pleased.”
You sigh into his shoulder.
“I saw your sister not long ago.”
His posture stills — only a fraction.
“Death.”
“Mm.” You smile faintly. “She was… wonderful.”
Something in him eases.
“I am glad,” Morpheus says quietly, “that she was kind to you.”
“She always is.”
He looks at you then — with something that is not fear, not duty —
—but gratitude.
Eventually, you both dress.
Not because you must.
Just because the moment shifts.
You walk hand-in-hand toward the heart of the Dreaming, where corridors open into quiet and light gathers like it has nowhere else to be.
The world bends gently around you — not in awe — but in recognition.
In the distance:
“HEY, BOSS— oh. Yep. You’re together. Obviously.”
Matthew lands nearby with the soft thump of feathers and terrible timing.
“Do either of you know it’s disgustingly early, or are you just ignoring society completely now?”
You smile.
Morpheus does not flinch.
“You are loud,” he says mildly.
“And yet you keep me.”
You pass into the library.
Lucienne looks up from a stack of dream-bound volumes and blinks once in surprise.
"You're early," she says mildly.
You smile, already half-turning back toward Morpheus.
"Actually… I decided not to work today. I just ran in for a second."
Lucienne studies you — the soft quiet in your eyes, your fingers still loosely laced with Morpheus’s — and then smiles in a way that is almost fond.
"Of course you did," she murmurs.
"Then I won’t pretend I didn’t see you."
Morpheus inclines his head once in silent understanding.
And just like that, the library lets you go.
You thank her.
Morpheus inclines his head.
And then it is just you again.
You walk hand-in-hand into the Dreaming with no destination at all.
The world opens around you slowly — not as a realm, not as a kingdom — but as a place that simply knows your names.
Stone paths curl beneath your bare feet, soft with memory. Lantern-light drifts lazily through air that smells faintly of rain that never truly falls. Somewhere in the distance, the sea exhales — slow and patient — just as he does at your side.
"Is it always this quiet?" you ask.
"Only when I allow it to be," Morpheus answers.
You tilt your head, watching the faint glow move across his profile.
"And you allowed it for me?"
He looks at you then — not as a ruler, not as an Endless — but as someone standing uncovered in his own dream.
"I would allow it for you always," he says.
Your hand tightens in his.
He slows just enough for you to notice.
Lifts your hand.
Presses his lips to your knuckles — soft, unhurried, as though nothing in existence could possibly be more important than this one small gesture.
You walk for a while without speaking, your steps unhurried, your breathing slowly finding the same rhythm.
The Dreaming does not whisper prophecy.
It does not demand.
It does not warn.
It simply holds.
Just a morning that belongs to you.
And a King who has, for once, laid his crown down somewhere you do not need to see.
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PLEASE ENGAGE IF YOU LIKE IT! Your comments, thoughts, and reactions mean everything. This story truly lives only when someone else falls into it with me.
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CHECK MY OTHER SANDMAN FANFIC
Summary: morpheus decides to apologise, in the best way he knows how - making love to you . final part aka reader and Morpheus get back together in tooth rotting smut MIMORS STAY AWAY
Warnings: porn with no plot. 10% plot 90 % porn. Soft smut, slow and loving sex, morpheus apologising to you with praises and pleasing you. reader is pregnant so pregnant sex, oral f receving, unprotcted p in v , lots of switching position missionary and side fucking, cowgirl. Mention of future implied lactose kink and nipple play. reader is horny okay??? this is 4k long i apologise! sometimes a girl wants it rough other wants to be treasured!
Notes:
Sorry for the grammatical errors. Thank you for reading. do not translate or appropriate my work
Comments, feedbacks, questions and kudos are highly appreciated :)
After the moment shared in your room , both yours and Morpheus heart filled with hope for the future. Still He had to gain your trust back
The reapprochment was slow and started with you and him beginning to bring personally your daughters between the realms and greeting each others with more warmth
Then it became to spending time together as a family, as telling your daughters and your realms subjects of being in waiting. Both realms were celebrating in happiness with their rulers finally content
‘There is a baby in your belly mother?’ Nostalgia asked looking at it
‘Yes my sweet girl as once you too were in it too’ you told her caressing her head
Still the moments between you and Morpheus alone were few and measured . Were made of brushing hands, long stares or subtle gestures, but not open as once they were .
He was attentive as he had been during your previous pregnancies and more open in his feelings for you, as if he was courting you once again
Your new/old quarters were replaced by regret’s nursery, your wardrobe reappeared in Morpheus bedroom, and other subtle changes that made you a married couple by facts and not only by name. As You did not sleep the bed was not shared.
You started living together between realms again. When one of you was not busy with their realms
You all spent time together as a family, putting to sleep at night Nostalgia together, teaching Hope how to control her powers. Holding hands at picnics while nostalgia played with the dragons.
You and Morpheus became more intimate but reverent. He kissed your head, your hand and your belly but was still waiting on your permission to kiss you. He did it with reverence and care but not with last
He was measured and careful in his actions as had agreed to go slow and to prove himself worthy of your love again
Partially it was because you had yet to spend moments alone.
But the lord of dreams did not lack ideas, especially when it came to ways to win back again his wife
-.-.-
Jessamy flew in the memoir. You were in the part of the kingdom that kept the core memories of the universe, checking if anything new had appeared
‘My queen, I come with a message of your Lord husband’ the crow spoke after she let go the envelope at you feet
‘Loyal crow, thank you’ you thanked Jessamy that took the envelope again and left it on your hand
The envelope said 'to queen Y/N, your devoted husband'
You opened it to reveal al invite, carefully written in Dream’s handwriting
‘My dearest lady y/n. If you let me, I would like to invite you to the Dreaming this evening. To share a moment alone as we have not had chance to properly talk. Jessamy will show you the way if you accept. With love, your devoted husband, Dream of the endless'
Your heart swelled with hope. He had invited you, and you knew him, this was his way to prove himself, so you gave in
'Show me the way jessamy' you asked the loyal crow
'Of course my queen' she replied as you two went into the dreaming
.-.-.-.
You entered a part of the dreaming you had never seen before, or so you had thought
It was beautiful to say the least, it was set in your favourite natural habit, one that reside in the Memoir and that you visited often. but it also had parts of the dreaming that you adored, as the constellation, and pieces of places you loved across the universe
He had shaped a part of the dreaming just for you, it had all your favorite features, bits and pieces of which in the centuries you had expressed to him your appreciation
You had been his main source of inspiration for the dreaming and now he proved to you that you were still as he created an entire section of the realm just for you, bent to your wishes
Morpheus was still shaping part of the area when he felt your unmistakable presence in the Dreaming, so he turned to greet you
You were too starstrucked to speak, so Jessamy presented you
‘My lord, lady Y/N of the Memoir accepted your invitation’ the loyal crow told dream
‘My lady, it pleases me that you accepted my invitation’ Morpheus stated trying to control his smile
You came back to your senses, a big smile adorning your features
‘Greetings Hubsand’ you told him, this time the title lacking the ironic tone you had put to it the other times , he nodded with reverence
‘Thank you Jessamy, you may leave’ he instructed the crow
‘As you wish my lord, my lady’ the crow replied before leaving
‘Would you prefer to sit or to walk my dear?’ He asked you motioning to the sofas and table he had created
‘I would like to see the area Morpheus’ you replied
He gave you his arm hoping you would take it and you did, intertwining it with his, he smiled pleased at the normality of the action
You both started to walk as you admired the area
‘It’s beautiful’ you commented as butterflies flew around you
‘I have made this part of the dreaming for your to carve and shape as you please’ he explained ‘you may recognize elements that I believe are of your taste’ he explained
‘I see them Morpheus, thank you. I love it’ you replied sincerely
He stopped in his tracks and knelt in front of you. You looked at him in all his majesty kneeling in front of you on one knee and looking up at you
‘This is the pledge of my love for you, Y/N. I know I said I will give you time but you also asked me to prove my commitment, and with this symbol I am.’ He explained
‘Everything I am is yours, I will not let my siblings or doubts come between us again,. You told me to wait but I cannot stop myself. All we lost all I lost because of my pride. So I must ask you Y/N queen of memory,my wife, my love, will you forgive me? Will you take me back as your husband in facts and not only words? To share with you each minute that is not taken by both our duties to the realms. To let me love and you cherish you as I did before?’ He asked looking at you, with eyes glassy, yours were too at his confession. Then he lowered his gaze
‘If you do not accept. I understand. I will not trouble you again, not until and if you ask me to. I will be present for our daughters but I will not bother you further’ Eyes-low not looking at you as every fiber of his body begged for you to forgive him
You did not reply, instead your fingertips gazed his chin as you rose it, to look at you, he did
You carefully helped him up in the best you could do to your conditions, and then you brought him foward to you as he let you and then clashed your lips with his
You held him by his mantle as you kissed him with fervour, he followed your lead, both of you rejoiced by the official reunion
When you gasped for air you both kept your lips only an inch apart, breaths mixing and both of you painting
'I forgive you Morpheus, of course I do, I will not loose the love of my immortal existence for petty quarrels, I’m yours, always' you swore
'And I’m yours, You have me. all of me, all I have, all I am, is yours for as long as you let me' he swore back
He then Kissed you with passion his hands roaming your body tenderly but with lust, you held on his tunic, your hand being much more frenetic that his, as he held you with care you replied with lust. You needed to feel loved yes, but also wanted
'I don’t deserve you, or this' he told you inches from your lips, not clear if 'this' was you, having a child or your marriage
'you just proved me that you do, morpheus. All I wanted was for us to be well us again' you replied caressing the hair at the end of his neck with a sad smile, he looked at you with tears in his eyes before kissing you again with so much fervour and devotion, as his lips could let you know all the ways he was sorry
you held him close to you as much as you could with your belly in the middle, you wanted to feel all of him
He parted from your lips for air, your foreheads close, your lips less than an inch apart, as his hands caressed you. Oh how you had missed to be loved by him
'I need you husband' you pleaded, voice hoarse, looking in his eyes. He stilled his hands, an internal fight rising in him. he wanted you, oh god how much he wanted you, but at the same time he did not want you to think that this, him coming back to you, his big gesture, was for lust rather than love
'As much as I crave you my love, you must believe me this was not a scheme to bed you, I swear' he promises referring to his great gesture
'I know, even if it was in this moment I don’t care, take me please' you begged, you did not know if making you speak was the pregnancy, or the wish to remove from your memory the last time you had been together by rewriting it with a new sweeter memory, but you wanted him, badly
'No I will not take you my dearest, I will cherish you, love you and please you, as I always should have done' he promised , his hands cupping your cheeks before giving you a caste but meaningful kiss. Then he bent down and took you up in his arms bridal stile
You laughed at his antic and he smirked, before kissing him again, your arms around his neck as he carried you
A bed appeared in the room , He Placed you carefully and slowly on the bed, until you laid on your back, so differently from how he had thrown you on it the last time
he then joined you slowly on your side, as the bed dipped at his weight
'are you comfortable my love?' he asked you , his hand tracing your features slowly, hovering over you but being mindful to give you space
'Yes' you replied , he was pleased with your answer , so He kissed your wedding band before laying your hand gently on your belly, his hands over yours as he kissed your belly, before rising his eyes to look at yours
'I need you to know, that despise my actions the last night we united, it's only my love for you that created this life' he swore begging you to believe him 'will you forgive me?' he begged
'I forgive you, morpheus, but you know I'm not easy to forget. But I will if with many memories of your love they will replace the one time I did not feel it' you replied voice almost trembling with emotions
'and then I shall remind you now and forever of my love' he stated as then he rose to kiss you, from your lips to your neck as your hand roamed his body too
He Undressed you piece by piece, kissing every inch of your body as he remove your clothes piece by piece. Slowly and with care as if unrevealing you for the first time
'This is how I should have treated you' he said kiss after kiss , inch of skin after other, from your shoulders to your legs 'With care and reverence because you are a sanctuary, the sanctuary of my dreams and my love' he swore
another kiss on each of your limbs was accompayed by a praise 'my love' another kiss 'my queen' he said kiss after kiss 'my wife' reaching your legs, leaving you completely bare
'you are a sight for my eternal eyes, so strong, so beauitiful' he praised, his hands never leaving you
'morpheus' you called him, you could feel him everywhere around you, he pervaded your senses, making even memory herself forget everything but him and his name
you tugged him up with fervour to kiss you on your lips he complied, his hand sqeezing your thigh, as his body rested between your legs
He then moved again from your mouth to your neck, sucking a bruise there, before laying his eyes on your breasts. He took one in his hand as you moaned at him gently squeezing it
'I should have cherished these breasts, that nurture our children', he massaged one while sucking on the other, he then switched slightly teasing your nipple with his teeth before suiting you with his tongue 'once they filll with your milk will you let me taste them again?'
'Yes' you cried as you arched with his ministrations
He then placed his hand on your heart, 'and I should have kept better caring of this heart which you gifted to me at the start of the universe to keep safe. And I will from now on' You interwtined your hand over his that was staying over your heart
'Morpheus' you called him eye glassy
'I love you' he swore his words with so much weight wanting to leave no trace or doubt
'And I love you' you swore back, he kissed you, with reverance and love and you kissed him back with the same unspoken truth
When he separated to resume his ministration, parting from you, you grabbed his tunic
'Undress, I want to see you' you asked him tugging at his tunic to remove it, he chuckled 'very well' he replied as he made his clothes disappear remaining in all his naked beauty as your eyes roamed over his toned form
He stood on his knees at the end of the bed, as you tried to reach for him, but he gently layed you back
'no my love, let me' he told you, as you sellted back into the pillow looking at him at the foot of the bed
He placed kisses from your akle to your inner thingh, without rush, eyes closed, as his lips had to sculp your skin to his memory, savoring each inch of your skin
'Dream' you whispered with anticipation as you let him take care of you
his lips arrived between your legs as he kept them open, His nose nudging your folds as he looked up at you with pride
'Don’t tease' you whispered, forehead sweety as you looked at you huband face to face with your heat
'Forgive me dearest, out of habit' he replied with a smile ‘ tonight I only I aim to please you' he promised, his head resting on your thigh his hands roaming your curves
'Let me devour you' he begged asking you for permisison as you nodded frantically
'Please' you begged back as he nodded once before diving in. He moaned at your taste. Something he had missed for various moons, the reasons now forgotten and seemed so irrelevant as you leaked in his mouth
each push of his tongue and pull of his lips making you cry of pleasure, His hand used to keep you open while your hand tagged and pulled at his hair
With his other hand He searched for your free hand as he interwined his fingers with you and placing them on your belly. As a promise of love and safey as he kept devouring you
‘You taste divine dearest', he told you detaching his lips from your heat from air, he then licked a stripe of your heat
‘how I missed your switness on my tongue. How did I endure this time without it?’ he asked, his long digits now circling your clit
'Dream' you cried arching your back, and bucking your hips to have him back on your sex, you were near your peak and you both new it
‘Come for me my love’ he asked you before taking your clit in his mouth and sucking at it, eyes closed as if it was his only duty to makee his queen come
And you did, your wetness floding his mouth as you peaked with a cry of his name
He looked at you pleased with himself, looking at you regulating your breathing with devotion, his fingertips gracing your skin to suit you.
‘You look like a dream come true’ he whispered to you voice low with reverance and regret of having missed months of seeyng you like this, naked and wet, covered in your release, in his bed, round with his child, and begging to be ravished
You reached for him to signal him to kiss you
He rose to kiss your lips as you tasted yourself in his mouth as his tongue invaded you
He was lost in your kiss, forgetting his own pleasure as you gently grabbed his handomse face making him look at you
‘I want you to Fill me husband’ you demanded and he obeyed
'as you wish my queen'
He settled himself bewteen your legs, reaching for his manhood and coating it with your juices. Alligning himself he waited for your permission to enter you, but instead you grabbed his ass and pushied him forward to make a statement, crossing your legs behind his back to keep him in place
'in me, now. Don’t make me order you' you commanded, you wanted to feel him, to be joined with his as one once again
He chuckled ‘very well’ he started entering you inch by inch, despite his impressive size you welcome him in easily out of habit afterall
You both moaned the sensation of being joined as you clenched around him. Both had missed the feeling.
‘You are always so tight and welcoming for me’ he prased you, his forehead on yours. your eyes closed feling him
‘You need a moment?’ he asked with honest concern, one of his hand with light fingers tracing your feaure. He was afraid to have being lost again in the moment of passion his care for you
‘Yes but only because I want to feel you’ you replied looking at him
He kissed the side of your face then your neck ‘my queen, my wife ‘ he stated with reverence kiss after kiss
You started to move your hips silenty inviting him to move. His smiled at you before giving in
And so he did with deep and slow thrust that made you feel every inch of him with every movement
'You feel better than any dream I could ever conjure' he praised, his pace steady but devoting, with long and deep thrusts that were not fast, but a statement of his care
'And you kow my body as a memory not even I could erase' you replied your nails digging on his back as you arched at his thrusts always so precise and so pleasurable
Both of you simultaneously looked at were you were joined ‘this is how we should be always, as one’ he told you
His hand was placed on your side careful to not let himself brush against your growing belly while his other traced your curves
‘Tell me you are mine’ you pleaded
'I'm yours' he swore, 'I aim to please you, fill you, comfort you and if you want me to I will now and forever, night after night, give you what is rightfully yours. Love you now until the ends of the dreaming itself' he swore meaning every word
'Yes' you cried 'I want you morpheus, us, that is all I ever wanted' you cried In pleasure and thruth
'And you got me my dearest, you got me' he swore, his thrusts never faltering as he drove in you with deep precision
Your belly was pressing against your ribcage on your breathing, he understod your discomfort
'You are unconfortable my love' he stated noticing the struggle you tried to hide
'It's fine, Don’t stop' you begged shaking your head
‘I won't my love, I will only rearrange us. ‘ he reassured you, then he exited you
You whimpered in protest at the loss of him
he turned you gently on your side, his chest to you back and raised your leg at his hip
He kissed your forehad sweetly before kissing your neck as he re-entered you again from behind as you moaned at being filled again by him
'I have savoured each memory of you like this for me to take and please' he confessed, each of your cries filling his heart as he thrust in you
'And I have dreamt to be filled by you once again' you admitted as he fucked you
One of his arms was under your neck keping your face on the side to kiss you, his other hand keeping you in place on the side, your leg raised. He wanted to see you as he gave you pleasure
To have each of your cries and expressions treasured in his mind, to be now memories not only dreams as it had been during your separation
‘I need more’ you begged wanting him to go deeper, to take you with ernest not just care
He complied, the new angle helping him as he quickened his pace
'I want yo go slow, to savour each cry you give me, each touch, each fire I ignite in you' he told you his hips snapping In yours
'Morpheus' you cried so close, he moved his hand from your leg to you clit circling it
‘Come my love, come for your husband’ he asked sucking on your neck while thrusting in you and circling your clit
You came hard, so hard, as you had not done in moons, soaking him
He prolunged your pleasure as much as he could with his thrusts and hand
As your peak died down he slowed down letting you catch you breath and then stilling , his hands massaging you as his lips peppered you in kisses
‘What are you doing?’ You asked not understading why he stopped thrusting in you after your climax
‘You are tired ‘, he stated simply continue to kiss your shoulder
‘And you,? you did not finish ‘ you stated confused. He always first made you come but then continued thrusting in you until he reached his on peak, so this situation was uncommon
'It was for you my heart, I was sefish last time I won't be again', he told you exiting you, but keeping you close, your back against his chest, his hands roaming you
your turned to look at him and gently pushed him on the bed, his back hitting the cushions
'Good husbands come in their wives' you told him, manouvering above him 'it is inpolite to make me beg for your release when is already mine, husband'
You told him as you stradded him, your legs each side of him as your heat hoovered his still hard cock. A flash of lust, desire and amusement pervaded his features as he let you guide him
'I aim to please you do not need-' he half potested his hands on your thighs
'Hush now, let yor queen chase her pleasure' you silenced him as you impaled yourself on him. both moaning at the sensation of being joined again
You were pregant yes, but still an immortal old as the endless. If you wanted something you would get it
Morpheus stayed laid back relaxing as he could not stay uprigh do to your belly. Your kept you hand on his chest over his heart, to ground you both as you rode him, he kept his hands on your hips guiding you up and down on him
'You are beyond words' he praised you, as you loved 'You look exquisite, so regal, taking your pleasure from me , growing our daughter, ruiling two kingdom and my heart'
He praised, his hands touching all of you, from your curves, to you belly to your breasts. He looked at you with pure adoration as you rode him
Your head was falling back as you rode him chasing both of your pleasure but you started to grow tired. You both could go on forever but right now your current state and your separation had made you grew you weary. and he sensed it
'You are tired my love Let me help you ' he told you, his hands helping you
'No I want you to-' you argued eyes closed riding him faster
'do not fear I will, I cannot deny my queen my seed, although it already grows strong in you, you shold not have to beg for what is rightfully yours' he reassured you as in a swift manouver he layd you back again in missionary without exiting you as you arched as he thrust faster and deeper but still careful not not hurt your belly.
You both were so close as you clenched around him and he grew less precise and more primal in his thrusts
'Husband please' you cried wanting him to fill you
'Y/n, my wife, my queen' he swore as he kissed you and with that he formed an 'o' with his mouth groaning as he came, his seed spilling in you, filling you and overflowing you, you wined in pleasure, coming again but with less force as being once again filled by him
He continued prolunging both your pleasures until He stlled in you, his face in the crook of your neck. Both of you panting but not wanting to separate. He kiseed you as your caressed his hair. He did not want to exit you but knew you woud become once again uncomfortable
He kissed your mouth again, slowly as to promise he would not leave this time, then with care he caressed your face before exiting you but keeping the rest of his body close
With care turned to hold as he caressed exiting you. You cough the hint of pride he had of seeying his come leaking out of you as he looked at your sex overflowed by him and soaking the sheets. He swiped it and gently pushed it back in your hole as you moaned at the feeling. he smiled
But before you coud say anything he Made a cloth appear to clean you , he did carefully and with reverance
Then he lied next to you genty moving you to be with your head on his chest as carefully holding you as he traced patters on your skin , he took your hand placing a kiss on your wedding band
'If I wasn’t carrying your chid already I think tonight woud have done it' you chuckled looking at him, but he did not smile instead his modd changed, as regret rose in him
'I apologise for what I did when we conceived our child, my actions that night will be a regret I carry with me forever, how I treated you as a common being with lust , rather than my wife' he admitted with sadness
'It wasn’t the lust and haste morpehus, I quiet enojyed that, you know I quite enjoy being at your mercy for you to claim me. it was the being left alone right after and being told I meant nothing. Especally that after being taken so primarly, you did not handled me with care as before but left as if I was something just to use and then disgard. As I was a mere duty not your love' you told him eyes glassy as the memory
He cupped your chin making you look at him
'I swaer my dear, it will never happen again' he swore voice low and full of meaning and you believed him
'Promise me this is forever. No more haste no more doubts' you asked
'I promise' he swore, as if it could be written in the ancient laws themselves 'You, our daughters, this child, have me, forever'
He swore as you nodded, he then kissed you as if his lips could held all the power of his promise
And that is how Regret brought back her parents together
.-.-.-.-
This was the end of the short series Regret! Thank you for all the love you have shown it
But do not worry I have other 3-4 pieces in the works for memory and dream. Still i'm starting to ran out of ideas, if you have suggestions or things you want to see drop me a comment or a ask if want to be anonymus
..-.-.-
The Daughters of Memory and Dream
'The Sandman' masterlist in the 'other characters Masterlist'
Hi! If it’s okay, totally okay if not, can I please request a soulmate!Morpheus x soulmate!fem!reader where she is half dream half human (she doesn’t know she’s a Dream or even that any of that exists) and she’s living a completely normal human life, with a human job (kindergarten teacher), human friends, no knowledge of who either of her parents were. But when she’s approached by The Corinthian, her normal life completely shatters. Like he had found out before Morpheus that she’s technically one of his missing Dreams and also Dream’s soulmate, and he takes her as leverage against Morpheus? Morpheus saves her from danger at the hotel with “Collectors” Convention? He’d take her back home to the Dreaming but I’m sure that’d be a difficult change for her to leave her human life
I spy a cooking opportunityyy pour moiiii to the google docss
i have actually been so busy this year it’s not even funny so I’m glad i had something to write. Let me know if there are any Spelling mistakes and errors
You were different, it wasn’t a thought or idea it was a fact. It was proven. You had a power, it was unexplainable and you’d given up on trying to explain it. It started small, lucid dreaming, you could fix, make, create, do whatever you wanted but it was only through dreams. Then, people. Your mom was dreaming of a new shopping spree and you just watched her. She saw you and just assumed you were part of it and in truth you were. You bought so many things and didn’t question where the money was from, it was only a dream that you wished you could bring her, she looked so happy. Until you woke up to your mom screaming in a room full of boxes and bags.
You brought the dream to her.
Over the years you learned how to control it. Now years later after getting your teaching degree you became a kindergarten teacher and honestly you loved your job, the smiles and laughs of the little children who scurried around you. It was amazing it helped distract you. Seeing their little selves running over to their parents.
You slowly just dropped your escapades in the back of your mind. You were an adoptee. You were a baby so you have no memories of who your parents were but the Arlings were a good family who treated you like you were a godsend.
“Heyyy, me and Lorrelai were wondering if you could humour us for a sec?” Debby, a fellow teacher like you asked.
“Sure what's up?” you asked as you perched onto a nearby desk.
“Her ma's coming into town and she's wondering if she shouldn't be in town when ma's here.”
“What's wrong with your ma?”
“You know, controlling, demanding, taxing…you know how moms are.” the moment she said that her eyes went wide.
“A-”
“Hey lass, there’s someone here for you!” Since you were the only one Layla called Lass saying your byes you made your way to the front desk.
You rarely got visitors here, maybe a rare parent but by the sounds of it it wasn’t a parent. Yiu giggled as you dodged hree running balls of energy. You could tell them to slow down but then they’d probably just go faster to avoid you, you chuckled.
You turned the corner and almost bumped into a man. He was tall with blond hair and familiar black glasses from a show you watched a while back. He smiled and you almost flinched. You tried to smile back in the same manner but it felt painful and unreal.
“Excuse me, Miss Arling?” you nodded wondering if he was an uncle or relative you haven't met of one of the kids here.
“That’s me, who are you?” you tried to make your tone light.
“Ah, how rude of me, my name’s Corinthian.” What an odd name.
“Mr. Corinthian? What brings you here?”
“You.” Your confusion must have amused him as he laughed like you’d just told him a funny joke. You became deathly aware of how it was just the two of you in a room that seemed to be ever shrinking. Maybe it was your imagination but he seemed to get closer without even moving.
“I’m sorry, is-”
“You have nothing to be sorry for, thank you for how easy this was and don't worry this won't hurt a bit.” In a quick motion his hand swiped over your head and all you saw was black.
Corinthians caught you before you hit the ground. He had taken precautions so no one was going to remember you after you were gone, no bodies left to worry about.
With a hop skip and a jump the Lord would be destroyed by the very thing in his hands and he was giggly. Slipping you into the passenger seat of his car he darted off as not to be late for his convention.
***
In and out.
You were in a car and now you're not.
Someone was talking and when they finished people started to cheer and chatter and laugh. Your head started to ache.
Where were you?
What were you on?
A metallic smell filled your nose…blood? With heavy eyes you were met with bright lights, stage lights? Focused on you?
“A-ha, you're up, I was starting to think I gave you too much.” The Corinthian guy came up from behind you startling you, pathetically you tried to move away from him only to end up on the floor. He grinned again and you as you moved onto your back inching away. Like a preg before it's predator.
He was enjoying this.
“Still skittish I see.”
“Where am i?”
“Don't worry about it just a little collector's convention.” Collector? Is this a slave market?
“Why…” your legs came to and you began to stand and everything became clearer, the figures before you were more defined and you could make out the little devil's face, you tried to hit him but he dodged you quite easily. “What did you do to me? Who are you?”
“Little weak are we? Just a little sleeping dust and I think we already established the second one.”
Before you can speak any further the ground begins to rumble and shake. Bits of sand start to move from the corners joining and linking up. The lights flickered slightly.
“He's on his way people! SHOWTIME!”
WHO?
The sand started to pick up and wind from nowhere blew it high and a man began to emerged from it. His raven black hair was first, he was tall, his smooth pale skin as the sand glid over him. His long black coat bellowed and a crow or a raven flew from behind him and landed on his shoulder. The man had beautiful crystal blue eyes and in this moment they were filled with a lot of emotions, the most prominent one was-
“Angry are you?” Corithian grasped your shoulder steering you around. “This'll do you in.” The man met your eyes and something clicked. A dark blue thread began from soemewhere on you and connected all the way to him.
“What is the meaning of this?” His eyes never leaving you but he was addressing the man holding you inhumanely tight.
“Come on now I haven't even started.” Corithian spun you around and sat you on the chair you were on earlier. You tried to get up but you were tied to the chair by an invisible rope had you bound down.
“Now dearie, tell us, have you ever done anything extra ordinary during the night time!”
The man tried to move but it seemed like he too was bound by something. His head which had been lowered examining his bonds raised and his eyes met yours.
He was beautiful now that you saw him. Maybe he was a god? Considering everything that had happened so far it didn't seem to far from truth. If only the circumstances had been more favorable.
Corithian was a game show host and you both were his unwilling contestants.
“I-what?” He shooks his head like a director towards an actor who read the script wrong.
“No your line is yes.”
“Yes?”
“Yes!” The crowd burst into laughter, you had an audience.
“Your turn, Dream.” He turned his back to you as you he addresses the man. Dream. “Do you know who this is?” He asked as he pointed at you.
The man said nothing, but his eyes spoke for him.
“Nope?” Well audience let me tell you a story…Once upon a time there lived a god called Morpheus. This god was the ruler of dreams and nightmares and he was damn good at his job. One day a mortal man believe he could trap death to delay the inevitable however his spell faltered and he caught Morpheus instead and after failing he kept the god trapped in a glass ball.”
You looked at Dream/Morpheus but he did not look at you instead his eyes were focused on the invisible cords on him.
“A century passed and finally he was free. He roamed the world in search of the thing stolen from him, fought demons, traversed plains, spoken with the moirai. Eventually he reclaimed his tools. It was left with the dreams and nightmares of his realm.”
Corithian paused. “He got most of them except for two. One was obviously the devilishly handsome man that I am and our star guests mother.”
Your mother?
You didn't remember your mother, you didn't remember anything from your little years. Your eyes were hot but no tear fell.
“Little did he know that said dream had found love. This pretty thing was a product of a human and a dream. Incredible. This child lived undiscovered and grew in silence and love. However a dream and a human were never meant to be together for a reason.
The father was unknowingly sharing his lifespan with his love and when it ran out, so did he and so did she. A child given to an orphange, a mother and a father turned into dust, dead on site”
“Rescued by an orphanage, adopted by humans. Until today this child has been undisturbed, but Where's the fun in that.
“Alrighty visual demonstration then!”
“Corithian.” The man who had stayed quiet stood forward. Every step tightening his bonds breaking slightly.
“I am not done!” The nightmare truly looks devilish.
It felt like you'd been pinched.Your skin was melting away, it wasn’t painful rather it was freeing. You felt something behind you and when you reached for it.
Wings
However, that wasn't the most surprising thing, surprisingly. It was your body. Your elbow had caught your eye then your while arm. It was like you were the physical embodiment of a galaxy. Purple, blue, yellow, red, your head was spinning. Something warms was rushing through your veins
“Ha, I didn't even have wings until I was older, more matured nightmare, maybe 105? But you? My, am I jealous? Well I guess I am,” Corinthian spoke like this was not a hostage situation and you weren't between two men who were definitely not human.
“What is this? What have you done to me?”
“Oh sweetheart, don't tell me you're all beauty no brains? I tell you I'm a nightmare, I tell you a pretty story, what does that make you?”
“A dream?”
“100 points to whatever Harry Potter house you'd be placed in.”
“How is this possible?”
“And we're back to stupid questions, you mortals are so limited in knowledge it's a wonder you’ve reached anywhere.”
A gust of sand filled the area but it didn’t feel gritty or painful, in fact it was quite the opposite it was soft and sweet. The particles danced in the air like dangerous flames. Morpheus/Dream/The strange man freed himself and wrapped his own set of bonds over Corithian.
“Ugh look at you embracing it like you’ve known it all your life pathetic, here I thought you might have a shot.”
“Corithian, Corinthian.” the voice from the sand was low and went through you, and it went through Corithian too, however his recovery time was impeccable.
“Oh come on, it was just getting to the best part.”
“Soulmates! They were, Isn't it an interesting sort? Just like you and Dream here.” Corithian started to laugh a painful laugh. “You two are bonded. Linked. MEANT TO BE”
Soulmates?
“Corinthian, you are not a dog so I will not need to speak to you like one, you will return to the dreaming.” you half-heard the rest of their conversation. You eyes moved over the crowd. Lost in thought?
“And if I say no?”
“You can’t”
“If you think I’m going back to the dreaming with you-” Corinthian begins as he takes off his glasses. You see his eyes and a primal fear grips you, your blood freezes as you look away, nauseous.
“You’re not staying here.” The Morpheus states. “I brought you into this world to serve humanity, not to feed upon it.”
Corithian looks to him. He puts his glasses back on. His bonds disappear.
“Do you know why I do it.” He shakes his head.
“So I can taste what it’s like to be human. And you don’t care about humanity, you only care about yourself, your realm, your rules.”
He's unravelling.
“I contain the entire collective unconscious, without my rules; it would consume me. Humanity would be consumed.” The Morpheus looks sad for a moment ready to cry but something tells you he's been holding it in for ages.
“Or you might actually feel something, I am not the problem, Dream!”
“You’re right, it was my fault not yours. I had so much hope for you. But I created you poorly than. So I must uncreate you now.”
Corithian doesn't move. Slowly red sand begins to rise from him, little picks of his skin turned to dust the specks floating about in the air some brush past you but their not as soft as Dream's sand was infact their thick and jagged.
Corithian opens his mouth to speak but it slowly begins to disappear as well.
“I am only sorry I won’t be here to see-” you don't hear the rest as his head is inherrantly gone too.
Morpheu remains calm, he slowly walks over to the sand remains and picks up something so small you could have missed it. A skull.
“Is that…” you lose your voice. He nods turning it over in his hands.
“Yes.” .
“Next time I make you, you will not be so flawed and petty little dream,” He speaks to the skull then directs his attention to the field of serial killers who’ve been frozen I'm their seats this whole time, it seems the nightmare's magic wore off. He places the skull in one of his pockets.
“And you who call yourselves collectors, until now you sustained fantasies where you are the victims, daydreams in which you were always right, but no more, the dream is over, I have taken it away for this is my judgement upon you that you shall know from this moment on exactly how craven and selfish and monstrous you are and you shall feel the pain of those you have slaughtered. “
You watched as every single person in the room went out through the doors, looking so similar you thought they were under a new spell. You may not be a high lord but you could see and smell it.
The fear.
The agony.
“What will happen to them?” you ask, your voice low and shaky.
“Mass incarcerations, I have a fair idea that they will either terminate their existence and or give into the law.”
“What about what they saw here.”
“They'll remember nothing about today.”
“And me?”
“And you…first we must get your glamour up.” His hand carefully brushes against your collar bone and then up your neck and like a switch your back to your human self, you pinched it just to be sure.
“So he was right, he was telling the truth? I'm one of your creations?” You ask your hands sweaty in your grip.
“He was half right, you are half my creation and half human. You are something new to me but we will find the answers. But first, you must have questions and I shall do my best to answer them.”
“Your name is Dream or Morpheus?” he nodded.
“I am known by many names and thousand more titles, Oneiros, Somnia by the romans, Fashioner, Dream, Onierus, Morpheus, The Sandman. You may call me whichever you like.
“Morpheus.” A look passes in his eyes that you didn't recognise but it did not scare you in fact it brought you closer and closer. “Your eyes are like stars, they are very pretty.”
Morpheus chuckled. He did not seem like one who would but he did. It was only then you realise how close you were.
“Even after all you've been through today you still come towards me even after all this.”
You shrug. “You saved me so that's a pro.”
“Thank you, you have pretty eyes too.” you giggle as he humours you.
“But…my life here, I can't just abandon everything I've known.” from your childhood to adulthood you have gained many things to live for. How could you just let it all go to follow a diety you just met?
“Corithian is a nightmare who takes measures as though not to have his fun take from him I'm afraid, no one knows who you are, his magic does not have a good record of undoing itself..”
“And if it does? There's a chance right?” You knew you were grasping at straws but-
“Then you came resume your daily life.
“You will not truly leave everything behind, you will simply travel between realms and back. Places and back, I can even create a dream in your image to go over your daily chores so your absence is unnoticed.”
“I couldn't ask that.”
“You forget what I made mention of to Corithian, dreams and nightmares are meant to serve humans, any dream to take on your role would be most pleased and honoured. Do we have a deal?”
You gazed over him, he seemed genuine.
“But what about the soulmate bonds he was talking about?”
“I will not be forcing a romantic engagement upon you, if that’s what you're worried about.”
“Isn't it killing you?”
“Mere bullets to a bulletproof vest.”
“It still hurts.” You saw a ghost of a smile on his face.
“It seems your values truly are intact even after such an ordeal. You do not ask about yourself? Whether you might find the same end as your father?”
“What will happen to me?”
“Your human side is more than your dream so I believe you will simply exist perfectly with or without me.”
“How would I exist with you?”
“I am a ruler over my own realm of Dreams and Nightmares so to exist with me you would be my wife and queen.”
“Your wife.” Strangely being married to this man did not seem antagonising for a second nor did you feel any sort of fear or anxiety. Infact the idea…pleased you?
“Yes, there's a whole ceremony, then a party, all a formality really to introduce you to the others.” Other gods and goddesses.
“Right.”
“I understand if this was a lot to understand from Corithian and his activities to becoming Queen of the Dreaming but you have the option to walk out of here enacting no fury upon yourself.” You wanted to smile, he's a perfect gentleman.
“Is it foolish if I told you I understood everything and that's why I'm still here?” you chuckled cracking your knuckles.
“No it's human nature, nothing foolish about you. “
“And how do you feel about this?” he looked surprised and stayed silent for a minute before replying.
“Well, I never believed in soulmates for beings like me and so I'm curious, but…” he trailed off looking at you funny. “I wonder what it's like to be loved by you.”
“I should be saying that to you. I have a lot of questions for you but I can save them for another time”
“Then,” His hand was back in sight. “Will you come with me?” you had slight apprehension but you slipped your hands in his nonetheless.
↬ summary: The last thing Dream expected was to find a baby at his front door and his upstairs neighbor to be a hot babysitter who just might make his life a hell of a lot easier.
↬ warnings: cursing, dilf dream, Jorge being stupid for five minutes, Sapnap being a hot uncle and a ladies man, Quackity getting yelled at 24/7 for something dumb, Karl being confused every chapter, and Emma being sick and tired of all the men around her.
↬ note: boom boom boom idk wtf i’m doing but for some reason everyone wants to read this series 🙄
if you didn’t get tagged i’m super sorry but it is first come first serve but don’t worry if the few peoples who’s user is in italics don’t turn on their tags they will be replaced <33
“Taking care of a child is a big responsibility Clay.”
The boy nodded looking over at where his two sisters were sitting next to each other admiring their new baby niece who looked like a carbon copy of their brother.
“I know, mom but I don’t know what else to do. I'd feel terrible putting her up for adoption. The last thing I would want would be for her to feel like she was a burden and her parents gave up on her because they were young.”
His mother gave him a soft smile before placing a small kiss at the top of his head. “Who raised you so well?” The woman engulfed him in a tight warm hug rocking back and forth. When they pulled away from each other Clay’s mom made her way to the kitchen to put down the groceries she had picked up before coming with her daughters.
“Where are the boys?”
Clay pried Emleigh out of his older sister's hands ignoring her protest before following after his mom. “Shopping for baby supplies.”
Drista broke out into a fit of laughter at the words that had just left her brother's mouth.
“That was the second stupidest thing you have ever done.”
He flips her off before opening the diaper bag that was left with the little one and begins to go through the contents of it. Em’ had her head laid against her fathers chest babbling softly to herself. Clay smiled down at her, placing a kiss on her forehead before pulling out a stuffed giraffe which seemed to grab his daughter's attention pretty quickly.
Lifting up her head she attempted to grab for the stuffy which seemed to have gone through quite a lot. The blonde smiled, pulling it a little bit out of her reach.
Em’s eyebrows knitted together agreesively opening and closing her hand. A laugh left his lips looking down at the girl when she stopped reaching for the item and looked at him with a curious face.
After a beat of silence the little girl breaks out into a fit of giggles, forgetting all about the giraffe in her fathers hand.
“Think she likes your laugh.”
-
“Uhh..” Y/n enters the elevator attempting to fit in with the four boys and multiple unnecessary baby items.
“Our friend found a baby on his doorstep.” The one with a beanie states after she’s pressed the button above theirs and the doors closed.
“dude..” The ginger's eyebrows knit together looking over at his best friend shaking his head, as if he had just told some very classified information.
The woman turns her head inspecting all the items they had with them. “By the looks of it I'm guessing she’s a girl and you’ve all never had to take care of a baby.”
The four of them all nod in sync.
With a sigh she turns around digging in her purse for a notepad and pen. She writes down her name, apartment number, and personal cell along with her house phone and hands it to the man, who’s hair is very fluffy.
“You seem like someone who would put this to good use if anything were to happen.”
George nods, folding the paper and placing it in his pocket, not even glancing at her name.
“I’m George, this is Karl and those two are Alex and Sapnap.”
The woman nods. exiting the elevator first when they arrive at their floor to allow them the chance to step off.
“Thank you,” Karl thanked the woman before halling the items in hand to the door to the left of the elevator.
-
Unlocking the door Y/n steps inside, immediately engulfed with cold air. She mumbles about how her roommates are gonna get a cold at some point with how low they keep it, before closing the open door with her foot and setting her purse down on the couch, making her way into the kitchen.
“I say you drop out and live the rest of your days as a stripper.”
Looking back from her spot digging through their cabinets, Y/n is met with her two roommates, one shrugging at the statement that had just left their lips and the other scrunching her nose in disgust.
“I’m never gonna do that.”
The y/h/c woman laughs, placing a bag of scoop chips on the table before going into the fridge to get the salsa and guacamole she had made before going to work.
Art rolls her eyes before plopping down on the bar stool sat in front of the island. “So anyways, Y/n how was your day?”
After grabbing the contents needed the woman closes the fridge door placing down the guac and salsa before taking off her jacket and placing it on the counter.
Out of the corner of her eye she can see her roommate visibly grimace at the action and has an internal battle with herself not to move it to the coat rack.
Y/n’s eyes meet Arts and they have an entire conversation trying to decide whether she’s gonna tell her friend to move it or do it herself.
Basil clears her throat, dragging her eyes away from the dirty coat that was placed on the island she had just cleaned.
“I’m gonna go finish my homework.”
With that she leaves, excusing herself to her room and closing the door.
“So, tell me all about him.”
“Who?” She takes a swig of a cold water bottle she had gotten from the fridge along with her guac and salsa.
“You have that look on your face,”
Art reaches over the island, grabs a chip from the bag. before dipping it in salsa and sitting back in his seat with an eyebrow raised.
“Well I met him in the elevator…”
“Oh okay Y/n living the wattpad lifestyle I.R.L.”
-
“Fuck she won’t stop crying.” Clay groaned looking down at Em who was upset but none of the five boys could figure out why. Karl shook up the bottle with the formal they had bought before handing it to Em who slapped it out of his hand.
“Oh she’s feisty.” Sapnap comments, also attempting to hand her, her giraffe which also gets slapped.
“I’ve got a meeting to keep her occupied for like fifteen minutes and I’ll call my mom after.” The blonde got up, handing his daughter to George before jogging to his room.
All of the boys looked at each other then at the screaming baby before deciding what the best option would be.
Five minutes later Y/n was downstairs now in gray sweatpants and a Nirvana t-shirt. She greets the boys before looking over at Emma; Her face morphs into a pout before taking her from George’s arm and cooing down at the little baby.
Y/n curls her index finger before carefully slotting it into her mouth giving her something the chew on. The boys looked at her as if she had just cured cancer.
“She’s teething, usually around this age their teeth start to come in so that’s probably what’s been bothering her.”
“You’re a lifesaver.” Alex admits and all the boys nod in agreement.
“I basically raised all of my younger siblings, so,” She smiles, rubbing the baby's cheek with her thumb. A few beats of silence goes by before the girl's alarm goes off telling her she has somewhere to be.
“Uh i have a job interview in a few minutes, order her a few teething rings and put them in the freezer and she’ll be good to go.” She hands the baby off to Karl before rubbing her slightly bald head soothingly.
“Let me know if you need anything else!” And with that she’s gone.
“Woah- how’d you guys get her to stop crying-?” Clay asks, confused looking at all the boys who looked like they had seen a ghost of some kind.
Genre/Tags- artist!jaemin, haechan being a bitch, inappropriate touching?
Rating- 13+
Word count- 610 words
His finger brushes across the length of your thigh, as softly as ever. Your shivers send goosebumps across your entire body and Jaemin looks at you, playfully glaring. You knew that letting Jaemin, your artist of a boyfriend, finger-paint you was a bad idea. Even terrible, one might say. But his pouting and whining which most definitely had the desired effect eventually forced you into giving in and letting the boy paint you. As if that wasn’t bad enough, Jaemin had rather boldly- you must add- asked you to undress so he could properly work on you.
You had choked for a while, whilst Jaemin simply stared at you, very accustomed to your extra reactions even for the tiniest of things. “No, I’m not letting you paint me naked.” you had intended for your tone to be authoritative but it came out as more of a shocked one and you almost face-palmed yourself right then and there. You still have no clue how you had stopped yourself.
His face had morphed into one that resembled a sad puppy’s and it had taken you every bit of your will power to not just surrender and let him have his way. With the finger-painting of course. Jaemin had had to complain like a little kid for quite a lot of time before you reluctantly gave in.
And now here you were, your boyfriend half-groping you with the excuse of your skin being too soft so he had to keep it in place. Jaemin, that doesn’t even make sense. His hands meet your sternum and you tense at how close his hands are to your most sensitive areas. You weren’t nervous per se, you had been together with Jaemin for many years for you to be nervous around him, naked or not without having some irrational fear. His fingertips brushed the swell of your breasts and your back slightly arched, breathing coming to a halt in anticipation for something that may never even come.
A knowing smirk graced Jaemin’s lips and he slowly trailed his hand further up, coming closer to where you would love to have his hand and without any warning, his hand was fully encompassing your right brea-
“Jaemin! Haechan is being a bit…...ch” Jeno trails off and bites his lip before he suddenly registers that you were naked with Jaemin painting you and curses, “Fuck! I-I- uh sorry!” he covers his eyes with his hand and rushes out, banging his head on the door before going in the right direction. Jaemin and you look at each other at the same time, your face red and Jaemin’s too. Except you were red from embarrassment whereas Jaemin was trying not to laugh.
“He saw us. W-What do we d-do?” you’re not even able to speak properly from the sheer embarrassment of having your friend see you naked, annoyed that Jaemin wasn’t taking this seriously at all. He chuckles and throws his head back, Adam’s apple very prominent. “It’s alright Y/n. What’s there to be ashamed about? He’s our friend.” “He saw me nak-”
All of a sudden, you get up in annoyance, not realising that doing so would result in your foot hitting the glass paint bottle. The blue paint spreads all across the floor and you can only silently watch in astonishment, unable to understand what was even happening. “My paint!” Jaemin lets out the most inhuman screech and you jolt form the sudden noise, watching as he drops down to his knees dramatically. He looks at you, killer stare directed straight at you and the both of you speak simultaneously.
When You Call Another Name (standalone short fanfic)
Pairing: Dream x you (female mortal reader)
SUMMARY: While dreaming, you unintentionally speak another man’s name — and Dream appears with a sudden, unsettling intensity. What follows is a tense, intimate confrontation where jealousy, longing, and unspoken attachment reveal far more than either of you intended.
CW/TW: angst, jealousy, possessive behavior
You fall asleep faster than you intend to, exhaustion dragging you under the moment your head touches the pillow. You don’t drift gently—your thoughts blur, slip, collapse into darkness. And in that unguarded moment, the name of the man you went on a date with two nights ago escapes your lips, soft and unthinking, nothing more than a ghost of a memory passing through sleep.
But in the Dreaming, names are not harmless things.
The moment the sound leaves your mouth, the air tightens, the space around you trembles, and the dream you were falling into fractures at the edges like thin glass under pressure.
Before you understand what’s happening, he’s there.
Dream’s arrival hits the realm like a shudder of ancient power, the landscape collapsing into shadows and starlight as he forms in front of you—too quickly, too violently, too silently. His coat trails with black sand, the remnants of a realm dragged out of its course by a single whispered syllable.
His eyes are darker than night.
Darker than fear.
Darker than anything you’ve ever seen on him.
“Say it again.”
Not loud.
Not furious.
But unbearably raw—every syllable thick with a kind of jealousy that feels far older and deeper than anger.
You struggle to steady your breathing, startled by how instantly the Dreaming has changed.
“I didn’t mean—”
He takes a single step forward, and the world responds: starlight dims, shadows crawl inward, the air folds itself around his presence like a creature kneeling.
“Say. It.”
The words tremble with a dangerous softness. “The name you spoke. The one that is not mine.”
Your pulse stutters.
“I didn’t realize… it slipped—Dream, I barely know him—”
“I know,” he cuts in, voice low and precise. “I know exactly who he is, and how recently you met him. I hear the shape of your dreams long before you speak.”
He drifts closer—not touching, but close enough that your breath catches against the gravity of him. The Dreaming pulls tighter, bending around his mood.
“For so many nights,” he murmurs, “you have moved through this realm as though it belonged to you. As though you belonged here.”
His gaze burns straight through you.
“And I allowed it. I welcomed it.”
The air shivers.
“But you speak another’s name,” he continues, softer, aching in a way that feels dangerous, “and suddenly I am reminded that you are mortal. That your heart might one day turn elsewhere.”
Your chest tightens.
“Dream…”
His eyes lower just a fraction, the closest thing to wounded he will ever allow himself to look.
“I did not think mortals could wound me,” he whispers.
The Dreaming trembles in answer, starlight dimming under the weight of his jealousy.
He steps close enough that the space between your mouths is barely a breath.
“Because I cannot bear the thought,” he says, the words sliding out of him like a confession dragged from the deepest part, “of someone else having what I do not.”
His hand lifts—slow, trembling—and hovers near your jaw. Not touching, but wanting. Wanting too much.
“And yet,” he breathes, “you dream with another’s name on your tongue.”
There is no rage in him now.
Only longing.
Only fear.
Only the terrible awareness that he is not entitled to you… and that he cannot endure the idea of losing something he never had a right to claim.
He leans in, forehead nearly brushing yours, voice cracking just once.
“Tell me,” he whispers, “so I may understand how to let you go.”
But the tremble in his breath betrays him:
he doesn’t want to.
he never has.
he never will.
PS:
Honestly, I hate the canon where Morpheus is always alone. He suffers, he yearns to be loved, but the Endless are not meant to have what mortals do. That’s why I usually write in the opposite direction—giving him warmth, giving him love, giving him the one thing his story never lets him keep. So this short piece will probably be the only one like this, because writing it hurts.
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PLEASE ENGAGE IF YOU LIKE IT! Your comments, thoughts, and reactions mean everything. This story truly lives only when someone else falls into it with me.
-----------------
CHECK MY OTHER SANDMAN FANFIC
Pairing: Dream x you (female mortal reader)
SUMMARY: One night in a London library changes everything.
You attend a literary event with a polite author who clearly wants more of your attention than you’re willing to give. But when a stranger of impossible presence steps out of the shadows — pale, furious, and unmistakably familiar from your dreams — the night shifts into something far darker. Morpheus, Lord of Dreams, has watched you for years in silence. Tonight, seeing another man’s hand on you pushes him past restraint and into the waking world. What begins as jealousy becomes a confrontation of power, desire, and fate — one that pulls you into the Dreaming itself, where he claims a night neither of you will ever forget.
CW/TW: angst, jealousy, possessive behavior, dominance, power imbalance, emotional intensity, obsession, control, reality manipulation
You do not mean for the night to become a memory carved into bone.
It begins the way nights like this always do: with too much light and too much noise.
The old London library has been dressed up for the “Night of a Thousand Tales” — banners hanging from the balcony railings, tables with cheap wine, soft jazz humming under the murmur of a polite crowd. The marble floors gleam, reflecting the crystal chandeliers in blurred ripples. Dust has settled in the folds of the velvet curtains, the smell of old paper and polished wood rising beneath a layer of perfume and damp wool coats.
You stand near one of the long windows, a glass of red wine held by the stem, mostly untouched. Rain smears silver lines down the glass outside, turning the city into streaks of neon and shadow. Somewhere to your left, someone laughs too loudly at a joke that was not that funny.
You should feel honoured to be here. A private after-hours event, invited as a “special guest” by a moderately famous author you’ve only met twice. People mill around with name tags and practiced smiles, holding first editions and programmes. It is the sort of night that is supposed to feel like a step forward in your life.
Instead, you feel like an extra in the wrong story.
“Enjoying yourself?”
You turn. He’s there — the writer who invited you, Daniel. Dark hair, warm eyes, a smile that has probably charmed a dozen festival interns already tonight. He steps closer, his hand brushing your arm in that friendly, easy way of his, like he has known you longer than he has.
“Trying to,” you say, forcing a small smile. “I’m mostly here for the books, if I’m honest.”
“A woman after my own heart.” He chuckles. “They’re opening the restricted archives later. I might be able to sneak you in.”
His fingers rest lightly on your elbow as he leans in, his breath warm against your ear as he points out some visiting critic on the far side of the room.
You barely hear him.
Because across the hall, on the other side of the glitter and chatter, the world shifts.
At first you think it’s the light. A shadow where there should be none. A flicker in the corner of your eye. The chandelier above shivers, crystals chiming softly without any breeze to move them. For a heartbeat, the room feels… deeper. Like the floor has dropped half an inch, like the air has become a fraction heavier.
And then you see him.
He stands near the base of the sweeping staircase, a dark pillar among the moving colours of dresses and suits. He is simply there — no one seems to notice where he came from. His coat is long and black, drinking in the light. His hair is a wild dark halo around skin pale as unwritten paper. His eyes—
His eyes are on you.
You freeze, the stem of the glass suddenly slick between your fingers.
He does not wear a name tag. No one approaches him. People’s paths bend a little without them knowing, steps curving just enough to avoid brushing his coat. He could be a statue, carved into the marble, if not for the way his gaze burns across the room, fixed only on you.
Your heart stumbles. For the smallest, strangest moment, you feel as though you have seen him before. Not here. Not in this kind of light.
Somewhere darker.
Somewhere softer.
“—and then afterwards, if you’re not too tired, there’s a bar round the corner that does incredible whisky,” Daniel says, still talking close to your ear, oblivious to the way your spine has gone rigid.
You drag your attention back to him with an effort. “Sorry, what?”
He laughs. “I’m boring you already.”
“No, I just—”
You glance back toward the staircase.
The dark man is gone.
The space where he stood is empty, the pattern of bodies flowing as if he had never been there at all.
A chill runs along your arms, prickling your skin under the thin fabric of your dress. You tell yourself you imagined it. A trick of the light, the reflection in the glass, the way your mind likes to populate crowds with faces from dreams.
Dreams.
You swallow, suddenly needing to set your glass down. “I’m going to get some air,” you say. “I’ll be right back.”
Daniel’s hand squeezes your arm, friendly, familiar. That small, casual contact sends a jolt of something through you — not from him, but from elsewhere. The chandelier crystals above your head tremble again, this time with an audible shimmer, as though someone had plucked the building’s nerves like strings.
No one else notices.
Of course they don’t.
You move away, the crowd closing behind you.
You don’t realise that the moment Daniel’s hand leaves your skin, an invisible tension eases. Or that a shadow near the far column, where light does not reach properly, resolves into the shape of a man once more, pale eyes narrowing in a face carved from night.
The corridors beyond the main hall are quieter, lit by occasional wall lamps that throw long pools of amber over bare wooden floors. The festival signage thins out here, replaced by old framed maps and portraits whose eyes follow you as you walk.
You are not entirely sure why your steps take you deeper instead of back towards the entrance. There is a tug beneath your ribs, an odd certainty that you will find what you are really looking for away from the noise and the light.
Or perhaps what is truly looking for you.
You turn a corner into a narrow aisle of shelves. This part of the library smells stronger of dust and leather, the air cooler, the silence more absolute. The overhead bulbs buzz faintly. Books tower on either side, reaching up into darkness.
You are alone.
“Are you.”
The voice is quiet.
It does not echo, but the air seems to vibrate around the words. You turn slowly, your heartbeat suddenly sharp and loud in your ears.
He is standing at the end of the aisle.
Closer than he should be. You did not hear footsteps. One moment you were alone; the next, he occupies the space as if he has always been there, as much a part of the architecture as the shelves themselves.
He is taller up close. The shadows cling to him possessively, the edges of his coat bleeding into the darkness so that you cannot quite tell where fabric ends and night begins. His eyes are black in this light, bottomless, threaded with a faint, impossible glow.
You wet your lips. “Sorry, I… thought this section was closed.”
“It was,” he says. “Until you walked into it.”
Your pulse skitters.
His voice is low but not loud, neither rough nor soft. It carries a weight, a gravity, like the first word spoken after a long, long silence.
“And yet,” he continues, head tilting slightly as he studies you, “you find your way to closed places. To thresholds. To doors that should be locked.” A pause. “You always have.”
You should be afraid. Any sensible person would be. A stranger, alone with you in a shadowed aisle, speaking as if he knows you.
But fear is not the first thing you feel when he watches you like that.
“Have we met?” you ask, and your voice comes out barely above a whisper.
His gaze flickers briefly, like a shutter over distant stars. “You have stood in my realm,” he says. “Many times. You stood on the shore of a dark sea and thought it was only a dream.”
Your breath catches.
You do remember. Vaguely, in fragments—the recurring dream of a shore made of black sand, of a sky threaded with constellations you could not name, of a tall figure watching you from the edge of vision.
“No,” you say automatically, because it is easier than admitting that your dreams might have been more than your own mind. “That’s not—”
“Real?” he supplies, stepping forward.
The shelf nearest him seems to lean away a fraction, as if even the wood recognises something in him. The lamplight thins where his shadow passes, absorbed rather than cast.
“Dreams are real, little mortal,” he murmurs. “Just not in the way you have been taught to understand.”
Your back finds the solid edge of the bookshelf before you realise you’ve retreated a step. His presence presses in without him needing to move further, like a tide rising.
He glances past you, toward the muffled sound of laughter from the main hall. His jaw tightens.
“That man,” he says, the word bitten off like it tastes wrong. “The one whose hand lingered on your arm. Does he believe he has some claim over you?”
You stare at him, stunned. “Daniel? He’s just a friend. He invited me. It’s nothing.”
“Nothing,” he repeats flatly.
The temperature drops a degree.
Far above, somewhere in the skeletal height of the building, there is a faint creak, as if old beams had shifted under invisible strain. A shudder passes through the shelves, not enough to send any books tumbling, but enough that dust spirals gently from the topmost volumes, drifting down like grey snow.
Your skin prickles. “Why do you care?”
He looks back at you then, fully, and for an instant it feels like being pinned to the page of your own life by a gaze older than the first story ever told.
“Because you,” he says softly, “are not his to claim.”
Anger coils in his voice—not wild, not uncontrolled, but deep and ancient, like magma beneath cooled stone. Behind it, something more dangerous curls, unnamed and sharp.
“You have watched him in my presence,” he continues, eyes narrowing. “In your dreams, he was a vague shadow at the edge of your hopes. A comfort. A possibility. Tonight you let his hand rest on you as though it were permitted.” His lip curls, just slightly. “Do you offer yourself so easily, then? To anyone who smiles at you?”
Heat rises under your skin—part indignation, part something else.
“That’s none of your business,” you snap, surprising yourself. “Whoever you are, you have no right to talk to me like that. You don’t even exist outside of my—”
Dreams.
You stop, the word hanging between you like a confession.
Something sparks in his eyes. “Oh,” he breathes, the sound as dark as it is delighted. “You truly have not understood. After all this time.”
His hand lifts, elegant fingers moving in a simple, dismissive gesture.
The world shifts.
The distant music vanishes mid-note. The hum of the lights dies into silence. The dust motes in the air seem to freeze, suspended, each one gleaming like a stranded star. Even the rain against the windows stops, droplets hanging on the glass in perfect stillness.
You are suddenly aware of how loud your own breathing is.
Your heart hammers, frantic, the only thing that seems to obey the rules you know.
“What did you—”
“You asked who I am,” he says, stepping closer. His shadow swallows the thin strip of lamplight between you. “You have walked my shores, stood beneath my sky, and still you do not know.”
He leans in, close enough that you can see the fine lines of weariness etched at the corners of his eyes, the way they do not soften even now.
“I am Dream of the Endless,” he murmurs. “Lord of the realm where you spend one-third of your brief and fragile life. I have shaped your nightmares and cupped your gentlest hopes in my hands while you slept. I have watched you longer than that man will ever know you.”
Your breath stutters.
His voice lowers further, a growl threaded with hurt pride. “You are mine to watch. Mine to guard. Mine to remember.”
The word mine lands between you like a stone in still water.
You swallow hard. “You don’t own me.”
The smallest, most dangerous smile ghosts across his mouth. “No,” he agrees. “I do not. But I have claimed something of you nonetheless.”
He lifts his hand again, slow, deliberate, giving you every chance to flinch away. You don’t. His fingers brush your jaw, the touch deceptively light. The contact sends a tremor down your spine, as though his skin carried the memory of cold nights and stars.
“When you dream,” he says, thumb skimming the corner of your mouth, “you surrender yourself without hesitation. You place your soft, mortal mind in my hands and let me shape the story of your night. You have done so for years.”
Your pulse pounds against his touch.
“This is different,” you whisper.
“Yes,” he says simply. “It is.”
His thumb presses in just enough to make you part your lips on a soft, unsteady breath. His gaze drops to your mouth, the anger in his expression deepening into something more possessive, more intimate, more consuming.
“The man in the other room,” he says, voice silk over steel, “will forget this evening in a week. A month, perhaps, if it flatters him enough.”
His eyes lift to yours. There is no softness now. Only certainty.
“I will not forget,” he says. “I do not forget.” A pause, like the drawing of a blade. “And I will not allow this night to be one you give away cheaply to someone who does not know what it means to stand in your presence.”
Your breath catches at the intensity of the words. “You sound jealous.”
The air tightens.
For a heartbeat, you think you’ve gone too far. His fingers flex against your jaw, not painful, but firm enough to remind you of exactly how much power he holds here.
“I am not accustomed,” he says slowly, “to being… moved by the choices of a mortal.”
His other hand lifts, palm planting flat against the bookshelf beside your head, caging you between ink and night. You are acutely aware of your own heartbeat, your own warmth, your own smallness compared to the vast, cold presence of him.
“And yet,” he adds, voice dropping so low it is almost a rumble, “I find I do not enjoy seeing another man’s touch on you. It offends me. It is an intrusion into something that has been… ours.”
The word hangs there: ours.
You have nothing to compare this feeling to. It is not like being desired by another human being. It is not flattering. It is not safe.
It feels like being chosen by a storm.
“Why tonight?” you ask, your voice rough. “You’ve had years. Why step out of the shadows now?”
His eyes search yours, the anger there warring with something rawer. “Because tonight,” he says, “you were willing to settle. To let your life be defined by a pleasant man, a forgettable evening, and the dull comfort of being almost seen.”
His hand leaves the shelf, sliding instead to your hip. His fingers curl around you with possessive care, not bruising, but unyielding.
“And I will not have it,” he says.
The shelves feel like walls closing in, like the world has narrowed to the span of his hand on your body and the weight of his gaze on your face. Your head tips back against the books, your body caught between spines and Endless.
“You can’t decide that for me,” you manage, though your voice lacks conviction.
“Can I not?” he murmurs.
The space between your mouths is a question.
His anger has not cooled. It coils through him, visible in the tight line of his shoulders, the way his mouth is set. But beneath it, you see something else now—fear, almost. Not for himself. For you. For the possibility of you vanishing into a life he will find it hard to reach.
“I am not kind,” he says quietly. “I am not gentle. The things that love me rarely end unchanged. If you stay in the path of my regard, you will be marked by it, in ways you do not yet understand.”
His grip on your hip tightens, pulling you a fraction closer. You feel the line of his body against yours, solid, immovable.
“And still,” he whispers, each word dragged out of him like it resists leaving, “I would rather risk breaking you than watch you fade into someone else’s almost.”
Your breath leaves you in a shudder.
It should terrify you. It does, a little. But more than fear, something else rises—a sharp, electric understanding that he is offering you a place in his night. Not as a dream that can be reshaped, forgotten, rewritten, but as something that will remain.
“A night to remember, then,” you say, the words escaping before you can swallow them.
His eyes flare.
“Yes,” he says. “For both of us.”
His mouth meets yours.
His kiss is not gentle. It is not tentative. He kisses you like he is claiming ground he has long held in silence, like he is furious with himself for wanting it and furious with you for making it possible.
His hand at your jaw angles your head, deepening the contact. The world beyond the aisle ceases to exist—the festival, the city, the rain—all of it pressed out of reality until there is nothing left but the taste of him: dark, cold, ancient, and somehow exactly like the air in your favourite dream.
Your hands, which had been pressed uselessly against the books at your back, find his coat. The fabric is heavier than it looks, cool under your fingers, but underneath it he is solid, real.
You fist the lapels and pull him closer.
He makes a low sound against your mouth, pleased and possessive, and moves, his body crowding you further into the shelves. The wood creaks in protest. Somewhere above, a book slips from its place and lands harmlessly on a lower shelf, the impact muffled by the thick air.
His fingers leave your jaw and slide down, tracing the column of your throat, feeling your pulse race beneath the skin. He lingers there, thumb pressing lightly over the frantic beat as if gauging exactly how much of him your human body can take.
“Listen,” he murmurs against your lips. “Your heart knows whose presence this is. It has known for longer than your waking mind.”
You could argue. You don’t.
His hand continues its path, following the line of your collarbone, the dip just under your throat. His touch sets every nerve alight, not because of where he touches you but because of who does.
“In Dreaming,” he says, his mouth brushing the corner of your jaw, the edge of your ear, making you shiver, “you come to me unafraid. You step into my darkness as though it were home.”
His words graze your skin as surely as his lips do. “Tonight, I will not be a shadow waiting for you to sleep. Tonight, you will come to me fully awake… and you will remember.”
The promise wraps around you like a spell.
He draws back just enough to look at your face, eyes searching, demanding. “Tell me,” he says, each syllable a command. “Do you want this? Me.”
Your answer is a quiet, ragged thing, but it is steady. “Yes.”
Something in him loosens at the word. Not entirely—he is still coiled tension and old anger—but enough that his expression shifts. The fury becomes a weapon turned outward, no longer at war with his own restraint.
“Good,” he says.
His hand falls from your hip, fingers trailing down, and the world blurs.
The shelves stretch upward into an infinite, star-pricked dark. The floor melts into smooth, black sand beneath your feet. The lamplight folds in on itself and blooms outward again as a sky strung with constellations you do not recognise and yet somehow remember.
You are no longer in the library.
You stand on the shore of that impossible sea from your dreams, the waves made of slow-moving darkness, edged with pale foam that glows like distant galaxies. The air is cool and thin, tasting of starlight and stories.
You look down.
You are still in your dress. His hand is still on you. He is still close.
But everything else is his.
“You brought me—”
“To where you have always come to find me,” he says. “Only this time, you will not wake and tell yourself it was nothing.”
The sea murmurs in a language older than speech. Above, a constellation pulses brighter for a heartbeat, like an eye opening.
His fingers find your wrist, wrapping around it with unquestioned possession. He lifts your hand and presses it to his chest.
There is no heartbeat.
What you feel instead is a vast, slow pulse, like the turning of a world. A sense of scale that makes your throat tighten—a reminder that the being holding you is not a man, no matter how human his form appears.
“Understand this,” he says quietly. “I am not yours the way a mortal man could be. I am not a life you can share. I am the dark between stars, the breath before a story is spoken. I can give you only what I am: devotion carved into eternity, and nights that will mark you so deeply you will never be the same.”
His eyes soften—not with kindness, but with an intensity that is almost worse. “And yet I find,” he adds, “that I am willing to offer you more than I have offered most.”
Your fingers curl into his coat. “And what do you ask in return?”
He leans in, his lips almost touching yours again, his words brushing your mouth like a promise and a threat intertwined.
“Remember,” he says. “Remember me. Remember this night when your waking days feel small. Remember that there is one who sees you fully and will not let you vanish into the comfortable forgetfulness you call a life.”
His hand slides to the back of your neck, guiding you into another kiss.
This one is slower, but no less intense. He explores you with the certainty of someone who has walked your dreams and now wants to map the waking body that houses them. Your hands roam his shoulders, his chest, the hard line of his back beneath the coat. Every touch you are allowed feels like a privilege pried from the dark.
He walks you backwards until the soft curve of a dune catches your calves and you sink down, the cold sand yielding just enough. He follows, careful and inexorable, his weight bracing above you, not crushing but inescapable.
The sea whispers nearby, waves rising and falling in time that seems to slow for you alone.
His hands are everywhere—your arms, your waist, the line of your thigh—possessive, sure, guiding you with a dominance that never quite tips into cruelty, because at its core there is that same terrifying, stabilising truth: he does not intend to forget you.
His mouth leaves your lips to trail along your jaw, your throat, each kiss a stamp of ownership and promise. When he finds the fluttering beat in your neck again, he smiles against it, the curve of his lips darkly satisfied.
“Mine,” he murmurs, but the word sounds less like a claim over your body and more like an acknowledgment of the way your existence has intruded into his own, marking him as surely as he marks you.
The stars above seem to spin slower. The shore curves in on itself, the world tightening until there is nowhere you can look that is not him.
You lose yourself in the press of him, in the way he moves with a precision that feels almost reverent, as if every small sound he draws from you is another line in a story he is writing directly into the fabric of the night.
When the intimacy deepens—when your body arches into his, when the space between you closes in ways that words cannot safely linger on—the dream itself seems to shudder. The sky ripples. The sea rises higher, its dark waves folding over one another like the pages of a book turned quickly, breathlessly.
You are dimly aware, through the rush of sensation and the dizzy, terrifying rightness of it all, that this is not just about hunger, or jealousy, or the sharp edge of his possessiveness.
It is a vow.
Not spoken. Not formal. But a vow nonetheless, made in the language of touch and breath and the way he holds you as if, for all his anger, he cannot quite believe you are truly here.
At some point—time is meaningless here—he stills, his forehead resting against yours. Your breathing is loud in the vast silence of the shore. His is steady, but there is something ragged at the edges of him, some hairline fracture that was not there before tonight.
“You will wake,” he says quietly. “Your mortal life will resume its slow, linear crawl. You will drink your coffee, answer your messages, pretend this world is all there is.”
His hand lifts, fingertips tracing your cheek with almost unbearable tenderness. “But you will not forget.”
You search his face. In this close light, he is less god and more man, but only just. The sharp planes of his features remain inhumanly perfect, the darkness in his eyes too deep, too old.
“I couldn’t,” you say, and it feels like admitting a truth you have always known.
A small, fierce satisfaction flickers in his expression.
“Good,” he says.
The sea sighs, as if in agreement.
He presses one last kiss to your mouth—not claiming, not demanding. Sealing.
Then the world tilts.
The black sand beneath you dissolves. The sky folds in on itself, stars drawing into a single point of light. The cool, thin air thickens, becomes the dusty, book-scented breath of the library once more.
You blink.
You are standing in the aisle again.
The shelves loom calmly around you. The overhead lights buzz. In the distance, music floats from the main hall, mid-song, as though you had never left.
A book lies at your feet, open, its pages ruffled as if it had fallen just moments ago.
Your dress is slightly rumpled. Your lips feel swollen, sensitised. Your heart is pounding so hard that you have to lean briefly against the shelf to steady yourself.
He is gone.
Of course he is.
But on your palm, pressed into the centre as if something had melted there and cooled against your skin, glimmers a single grain of black sand.
You close your fingers around it, feeling it burn cold against your lifeline.
Later, when you return to the main hall, Daniel will smile and ask where you vanished to, half-joking about secret passages. You will say you got lost among the shelves. He will make some comment about libraries being dangerous places for minds like yours.
You will smile politely. You will drink your wine.
You will not tell him that part of you is still on a shore made of night, pinned under the weight of a gaze that remembers everything.
Years from now, when this evening has blurred into the haze of countless other obligations and parties in other cities, you will still be able to close your eyes and taste the cold dark of his mouth. You will still feel the press of his hand on your wrist, on your hip, the way he said remember as if it were both command and plea.
You will recall the exact pattern of the stars above that impossible sea.
And somewhere, in a realm built of stories and sleep, an Endless who does not forget will look up at the same sky and think of a single, finite night in a mortal library—
the only night he allowed himself to be jealous and still stepped out of the shadows.
A night to remember.
For both of you.
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PLEASE ENGAGE IF YOU LIKE IT! Your comments, thoughts, and reactions mean everything. This story truly lives only when someone else falls into it with me.
-----------------
CHECK MY OTHER SANDMAN FANFIC
Summary: after what he said the nigh his third daughter was conceived, can morpheus win back his queen?
part 2 had gotten too long so i split it in 2
Warnings: estranged wife . pregnant reader, unplanned pregnancy, sad morpehus and reader, super fluffy dad!morpheus and mom!reader. death and lucienne are the best
Notes:
Sorry for the grammatical errors. Thank you for reading. do not translate or appropriate my work
Comments, feedbacks, questions and kudos are highly appreciated :)
Morpehus was with Nostalgia visiting the dragon cubs he had created for her in the dreaming. she was giving them some food from her hand while petting the others. Hope had said that she preferred to spend time learning in the Library with Lucienne instead
He was standing straight and regal supervising the interaction with a warm smile
The little dragon nudged playfully Nostalgia’s hand, before licking her face as she laughed happily
‘Fader i need more food for Wyvern please’ she told him, as he made more appear, before crunching beside her
‘Here, my little dream’ he told her with the smile only a father can have with their child, pouring some on her hand
‘Thank you’ she told him, feeding the dragon. ‘Father may i ask you a question?’ The child asked carefully
‘Of course my sweet girl, you may ask what you please’ he told her, a gentle hand on her back. With that the child gave in
‘why is mother sad?’ She asked, not careful as she did not understand the weight of her words, but with honest curiosity. Morpheus stilled at the question, his smile faltering
‘In what sense?’ He asked, his remorse and regret growing, because he knew to be the cause of it. He had caused the love of his immortal life, half of his soul, pain. And for what?
‘The sky its always dark in the Memoir, darker than in the Dreaming. and I hear her cry in her room, sometimes Hope makes her feel better. But when she holds me she has a sad smile’ Nostalgia explains while feeding Wyvern
She did not know that it was her power, that touching her made beings feel Nostalgia
He understood that because he had it too. Alone he could pretend to be angry to be better off, but he missed you. He missed your love, the way you lit up the Dreaming, lit up him, with your presence. How you inspired him. How he missed sitting next to you and watching his daughters play. How he missed you in his bed, that he only used to lay with you. But he could not tell that to his child
‘Did you ask her?’ He simply replied eyes low and pensative
‘She said she wanted it to be like last time but instead it won’t. What does she mean? Hope said I should not ask you, but can you help her?’
He did not know either what you meant, expect … no it could not be, or at least he thought
‘I will try my daughter’ he replied carefully, but for Nostlagia it was enough ‘thank you father. Don’t tell them i told you!’ She replied before running around behind baby Gregory that was flapping his wings
Morpheus got up, pensative. He had hurt you, he knew it, and he regretted it, but pride had always been a flaw of the lord of Dreams , a pride sometimes stronger than his love for you
.-.-.
Meanwhile Hope was in Lucienne's library, looking for a book she could not ask Lucienne about, a book yet to be written.
It had been hours, most would have lost hope, but she didn't and she finally had found it. A book on her parents myth: ‘Regret, the the third daughter of Dream and Memory’ the title of the third chapter said and with that she had her confirmation
You did not ask her to look for that book, but she wanted to help you. She was no longer a child and she could see through you, she could feel the hopes you had for your child. You had not told her you were in waiting as did not want her to have to lie to her father. But Hope was smart and she had understood. She could feel your hope for the future and for her own sister. She just wanted a confirmation
But before she could put it back she heard his voice
‘What are you doing my Hope? Andromeda is with your sister ready to bring you back to the Memoir’ Morpehus asked with honest curiosity
Hope hid the book immediately, wrong move
‘Nothing father, just some reading’ she lied, and his dementor changed, understanding the lie
‘Don’t lie to me child, I’m your father and will not tolerate you decieving me’ He replied his voice firm , but Hope did not falter
‘And I’m your daughter, what will you do? Drive me away too?’ She spat back. She loved him and he loved her, but even Hope was tired of the petty quarrel between her parents. She did not know why the had fought but she could see their hurt and their hope for all to return to how it once was
‘This is your mother talking. Is she putting you against me ? ‘ he asked with betray
You and Morpheus never involved the children with your quarrels not wanting to worry them or shape their opinion on the other. but Hope was a young woman and she could see through it as much as you tried to protect her
‘She didn’t. She does not talk about you. But I can see it in her, you have hurt her, and we are all paying the price ’she said trying to steady her voice, but Morpheus had still to learn to try and sute the women in his life rather than continuing pressing
‘These are none of your concerns. is this why you are in the library? what are you looking for ?’ he asked instead of consoling her
‘If you have questions ask your wife, if you remember still to have one. Goodbye father ‘ she told him coldly before disappearing into the Memoir with the book. But she did not know that books always return to the dreaming library
Morpheus picked it up and opened it reading the same title of myth that Hope had seen as it all made sense
He did not know if this book was of present evnts or of a future in which you two would eventually get together, which he had always hoped. But right now if you were pregnant and still hated him , you reunions would be twice as difficult
He rushed to the sigil room
‘Sister I am in my gallery in front of your sigil and I am asking for you to come talk to me’
Death appeared in front of Dream, ‘hello little brother’
he did not even greet her as he asked her immediately ‘is Y/N with child?’ He asked eyes glassy, voice low and heavy with emotions
‘Yes’ she simply confirmed as Morpehus crumbled on his chair eyes lost in the void in self pity
‘Do you still love her?’ Death asked sitting next to him and taking his hand in hers
‘Of course I do’ he replied instantaneusly, the thought of anyone doubting his love for you offending him
‘Then stop being an idiot. You are the most pathethic and self centered antrophomic perosnification of a concept, you are worse than desire!’ she scolded him
‘But-‘ he tried
‘But what! She loves you!. You love her. You have two beautiful daughters, one to arrive. You have more than most ever can dream about in their life. And you are going to throw it all out? And for what? Snap out of it brother ! ‘ she told him exasperated
‘Even if I were to follow your advice is not given she will accept my courting, not after all i said and done ” he argued, shaking his head at the memory, his mind running miles of regrets, replaying all that he had said and done to you during the conceiving of his third child
‘Remind her that you love her! She just wants that! To be loved by you as you once did! Go to her brother, beg if you must, but show her that you love her for her, not because she is carrying your child, not for duty but for her’ she stated with finality and before he could reply she disappeared
Morpheus starred in the void thinking. He closed his eyes remembering how he had wronged you, how he had left doubt creep into him, how you two argued over and over about the same things, how meangless words were spoken with spite. but above all how he had abbandoned you after bedding you. How he had treated you as pure lust instead of the most sacred being he had ever touched. And he regretted, he regretted every bit of it
the castle shaked at his tourmoil. At his regret
‘My lord !’ lucienne asked ‘are you alright?’ She asked worried storming in the room. The castle stopped shaking but Morpheus did not move
‘She is with child’ he replied simply, eyes red . Lucienne was momentarily shocked but she composed herself quickly
‘Your lady wife? that is wonderful news! Will she return in the Dreaming at once? Should I make sure the quarters are back to her liking?’ She enquired carefully
‘ I don’t think it will be needed. I’m prideful and so is she, the way - the way I treated her Lucienne … it was not fit for a queen and above all not fit for my wife’ he sighed at the memories of that night, of how he had spoken to you , of how he treated you and then left you
Lucienne folded her hand, she knew her king could be difficult but she cared for him anyhow
‘My lord, i do not know of your matters, but i do know this. Lady Y/N loves you. It’s true she never forgets a wrong but she also remembers, and knows how to treasure those memories and dream for the future. And with you those dreams can become new memories ‘ she explained as he nodded knowing what to do
-.-.
You were in your room, reviewing the map of your kingdom to see if everything was in order when Morpheus entered the room
‘My greetings queen Y/N lady of the Memoir’ he said with reverance, hiding his eagerness
‘Why are you here ? The children ave just returned’ you asked surprised , did he know? is that why he was here?
‘I came for you, not for them’ he clarified, keeping his distance, but you saw his glassy eyes
‘And why is that? ‘ You asked trying to hide your hope or was it fear?
‘you are in waiting, I feel part of myself growing in you’ he stated voice low as his eyes scanned your figure to try see your belly . now that he was in front of you he could locate and feel part of the dreaming growing in you
You stayed silent , your defenses up, you placed a hand on your belly as to shelter it
‘You are not denying it it. Why you did not tell me?. It has been many moons’ he pressed trying to steady his anger
‘I would have told you, closer to their arrival’ you replied simply avoiding his gaze
‘I am your husband, their father, it was my right to know! to be there for you in this journey , to -‘ he spoke quickly pacing the room
‘You told me that I did not matter so why would this change anything ?' you asked eyes glossy and raising your voice at him to hide it from breaking
You laid the trap and he fell in it, he stopped ranting and looked at you with sorrow
‘Of course it does, of course you do . Our daughters, this child, you, you matter to me. Return to me, let’s be husband and wife again, please Y/N’ he pleaded you. And the lords of dreams never pleaded but for you he did
‘And for what? to have this child be called desire’s or desitny’s scheme ? For you to easily dismiss me the moment they are born as if I were a cow? to be bedded and the discarded? No, I will not be discarded again. I will not be only a wife to bear your children. I will be your love and your queen or i will be nothing at all for you’ you told him shaking your head with grief, sorrow and anger
‘You think so low of me? That you could be anything different from my love and queen?’ he asked his voice low and full of pain.
‘You caused our separation after thousand of years because of your paranoias and then the way you treated me the exact night this child was conceived. What should I think ? I don’t want this, I don’t want you Morpehus, if its only for duty’ you told him as you fought back the tears at the memory of what had happened standing up
He did not argue back, instead he told you ‘You know what is our daughters name? What entire new concept we created?’ He asked you as you shook your head too afraid to speak
‘Hope found it in the library. It’s Regret Y/N’ he stated simply taking a step towards you
‘Because you regret having laid with me and conceived her?’ You ask voice trembling, too afraid of the answer
‘No, it's because I regret how I treated you. Not only the night she was conceived but before . Because as your husband and as the one who hold your heart I should have not let anything come between us. I regret having lost so many moons, so many memories between us because of my stubbornness. I regret that having you in my arms were only dreams and not recent memories. But I don’t regret laying with you, I don’t regret our daughter, I could never regret either. Because I love you as my wife, as my queen, as my everything’ he stated as he walked to you before kneeling in front of you and in his eyes you saw only truth.
He kneld down. King Morephues, Dream of the Endless knelt down for you, only for you
‘I would like to try again, but not only for the sake of this child or of our children, but of ours. For you to be my queen, my love, for me to cherish and adore.’ he told you close to you
‘How can I know you really mean it?’ you asked, tears streaming down
‘The dreaming is less green, the stars less bright, my subjects begin to forget how it once was . Because the dreaming is me and I am it, and without its queen is incomplete. I am incomplete’ he told you eyes red as tears were now streaming for him too
Being this near to you he could see it, the bump in your gown revealing your belly . His heart filled with regret, for not being with you, but for having missed part of this pregnancy
‘May i?’ He asked his hand reaching for it tentatively, you nodded, voice not coming for you
He placed his hand on your belly, closing his eyes to feel his daughter. Then he laid his head on your womb and inhaled deeply, your hand went to his hair automatically , caressing his locks as of memory as you too closed your eyes. How both of you had missed this
‘I need to be sure of your commitment Morpheus I can’t let the memories undermine my judgment again’ you states simply but with weight
‘You have my word’ he swore raising his head to look at you and you saw no lie
‘One step at the time then. Take things slow, earn each other trust again’ you told him and he gave you a single nod before rising and standing in front of you
He then tentatively kissed your forehead and you let him closing your eyes at the sensation
‘Call for me, when you have decided the first step. I’ll come and follow your word as if it is law’ he told you as he disappeared back into the dreaming
Should I write a part 4 of gentle brain rotting fluffy smut where reader gets cherished as she should? Part 4
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Please let me know your theories and comments, or if you have any request/suggestion of things you would like for this couple
Anyone knows which scene the gif is from? i dont remember
..-.-.-
The Daughters of Memory and Dream
'The Sandman' masterlist in the 'other characters Masterlist'
