Snow Day
Morpheus/Dream x Glasses!Reader
A/N: merry Christmas :)
Morpheus was in a mood, today, it seemed. The castle was dead silent upon your arrival and Lucien had greeted you instead of your dark-haired, silver-eyed Endless. The librarian was as kind and soothing as always and offered a thick-furred coat draped over her arm. You hadn't realized you were shivering until you accepted it.
“When he isolates himself like this,” she sighed, head shaking as she guided you down the spacious halls, “it tends to alter the Dreaming into…”
“A winter wonderland?” you hummed, nose nearly pressed to one of the mile-high windows. The frames of your glasses clicked against the translucent layer when you turned in an attempt to stare up at the snow-topped towers. “It's gorgeous out there!”
Lucien chuckled, pausing her steps once she realized you'd gotten sidetracked. “I was going to say an ice age, but your optimism is appreciated.”
“I'm just stating facts.” You turned away from the snowflakes coating the edges of the window to meet her gaze. “Why's he isolating himself?”
“Sometimes I feel it is a thing of the Endless, but my lord is particularly adept at falling into his work and further into himself.”
Your lips pursed at the thought of those molten eyes--the way his brow raised when he listened to you babble about the day’s events. He'd never seemed particularly distant. Maybe quiet at times but never unreachable.
In truth, you had known Morpheus barely a few months now. You hadn't expected to run into something so god-like from working at a pub under Hob, but you'd been seeing strange things your entire life. Hob liked to call it your “psychic sense,” but Morpheus had taken one look at you and waxed poetry about “seeing the veil as it was and not what it poses to be” or something similar. You'd zoned out a bit from how handsome he was but understood the gist of it.
Apparently one little joke about lucid dreaming was enough to draw an Endless to the lonely little nights in your head. Hob lost it when you mentioned it forever ago.
“Don't laugh! I feel like I pissed him off," you whined. "He shows up like every other week and judges me!”
“He is many things, including judgemental," Hob agreed over his coffee as you pulled down chairs and sliced fruit in preparation for the day ahead, “but he seems awfully interested in you. Best be careful. I can't go and lose my favorite worker, now.”
You weren't lost so much as drawn in by the beauty of the Dreaming, though perhaps that's what Hob had meant from the beginning.
Still, you desperately wanted to go out into that fluffy snow.
“So he's busy with dreams?” you asked Lucien, hands behind you as you marveled the detailed ceilings overhead. “Workaholic over the holidays?”
“My lord doesn't keep to annual holidays.”
“Oh, right, he's like...ancient." Lucien smiled and remained silent as any smart woman would. “Well, how long has he been isolating himself? Can he take a break?”
She waved hand deeper into the castle. “You may try, but don't be disheartened if he doesn't listen.”
The throne room doors didn't budge. You attempted to knock, swaying as you glanced around and pulled your gifted coat closer. You sniffed against the cold air and fixed your sliding glasses, huffing to yourself. Why you always dreamed with them on was anyone's guess.
“Morpheus?” you called out, voice echoing. “Or should I call you Boreas? The Dreaming’s been snowed in.”
Silence. You pressed your ear to the door as if it weren't made of thick, dream-induced material.
“You know, there's this thing called seasonal depression in my world—real tough stuff." You attempted to find a keyhole to stare through and found nothing. Even the the bottom of the door was tight and sealed. "You ever had hot cocoa? It's not a cure-all, but I like to think it's a good balm to the soul.”
You dragged your knuckles over the door, shivering at the chill emitting from it. Movement on your shoulder had you glancing down. The shadows of snowfall paraded over you gently from beyond the windows. Your feet itched.
“Or maybe some fun exercise?” you tried, lips close to the seam of the doors. “Ever made a snow angel?”
On the other side of those doors, a rare thing occurred: Dream of the Endless smiled.
His last meeting with Hob had been ordinary before the immortal man had raised his hand and waved you over. The Endless had seen his reflection before he had seen you—a wonder behind wire frames.
Morpheus had visited his old friend some days ago, asking after you, about your talent and how it brought you to his pub.
“She took one look at me,” he chuckled, leaning in with a smile full of youth and wit, “and immediately asked me how old I was.”
“Astute,” said the Endless.
“To the point,” Hob corrected. “And if you don't speak up, she'll see right through you, too.”
Morpheus' eyes thinned, shoulders taught as he raised his chin.
“And what is there to see?”
The old but never aging man gave him a look. All that he meant to say in this one expression, however, was not something the Endless wished to perceive.
“Christmas is her favorite time of the year. She moved here to experience more ‘winter wonderlands.’” Hob leaned back, shuffling a stack of papers onto the table that had been sitting next to him, ignored. “Now, old friend, we both have work to attend to.”
Morpheus felt laid bare. The Dreaming had gone white before he had taken the time to think the conversation over. Mervyn’s complaints about the various boxes of Christmas decor echoed in the halls. Lucien had come asking questions. Morpheus could not explain it and promptly shut himself away in his throne room, hesitant and brooding.
And now you had waltzed in, asking him to join the gift of snowy weather he had unconsciously prepared for you days ago, hoping you'd drop by and simultaneously dreading it.
He wished he could blame Desire for this.
“Well,” came your honeyed voice through the doors, “if you’re just that busy, apologies for bothering you! If you need me I'll be enjoying the snow day.”
And so you did. He found himself watching from a terrace. He's not sure how you managed to cajole so many of the tenants of the Dreaming into the castle gardens, but the trap was laid and set off as soon as your snow ball hit Cain.
“Hey!” cawed Matthew from a tree. “Watch it! That one was the size of my head!”
“If any of you break a window, I'm leaving you out here to freeze,” Mervyn yelled from the entrance. His sputter that came after as well as your laughter. You had quite the aim, it seemed.
Morpheus watched from afar as you brought life to the castle, dragging Lucien from her library more than her own lord. Matthew liked you and spent whatever time he could berating his sire to “ask her out already, come on, man!”
Lucien had warned him about falling too deeply. Too quickly. You were human. Special, yes, but mortal at your core. He had ruined everything with the last woman that had stolen his heart.
“Lucien you gonna stand there all day?”
Morpheus blinked, raising a brow as you stared back towards the castle, grin cheeky and puffing out clouds of breath. You had lost the coat he'd ordered his librarian to give you.
“Come on! You can join my team,” you called to her.
“We're on teams?” Abel shouted before Caine brought an entire snowman’s head down on him.
“You have your fun,” said Lucien somewhere out of Morpheus’s sight. “I must return to my duties soon.”
“Is it oh so dire?” you asked, hands on your hips as you panted.
“I do not think—”
“Well, if it's not, I don't see why you can't spend a few minutes letting off some steam!”
“I have a terrible aim, I’m afraid.”
“Not as bad as mine. Did you see how long it took me to hit everyone?” You scooped a handful of snow up from the ground, forming it. “Tell you what, if I hit you from here you’re obligated to hit me back.”
“Now, that's not—”
“1, 2, 3, go!” you sputtered, arm a flash of movement. The ball sailed far too high. Snow exploded over the lip of the railing, coating Morpheus.
Every single jaw dropped as they spotted him. Silence leveled the gardens. Every soul watching took a breath and looked from you to their ruler.
“My bad!” you shrieked as he wiped his face clean with a slow hand. “I didn’t know you were there! I’m sorry!”
“Boss,” came Matthew as he landed on the railing. “You good?”
“I am fine, Matthew,” sighed Morpheus. “It’s only snow.”
“Well, we best get going before Goldie starts missin’ us!” Cain chuckled nervously, dragging a suspiciously still Abel behind him. The others scattered much the same, leaving you rubbing your wrists and shuffling in place.
“Uh, am I in trouble?” you called up. You blinked when you found the ruler of the realm missing and sighed, head dipping in disappointment. “I swear it was an accident,” you whined to yourself, sneezing.
You nearly collapsed in fright as something fell over your shoulders. You relaxed when you found it was only your coat. Then fair-skinned hands attached sent your heart spiking a second time.
“Thank you,” you mumbled, face hot as you slid your arms through the sleeves.
“I take it you’re enjoying the weather?”
You hummed, nodding quickly, wishing his voice was as cold as his expression. The warmth of his words left your brain a mess.
“Have you?”
He tilted his head at you.
“Have you enjoyed the weather, I mean? You created it, so I assume you at least put up with it, uh.” You were rambling and worse, you realized you were rambling which led you into a spiral. “But I heard you’ve been super busy and all, so of course you wouldn’t have gotten much time! I hope you’ve been taking care of yourself and all…”
You had to take a breath and Morpheus was just listening, a gentle smile on his face that left your eyes skating the ground. Why were you acting like this?
“It has been some time, hasn’t it?” he asked.
“Like a week, maybe. I think I got a little too used to you popping into my dreams.”
“Is that so?”
God, you were being far too honest, but you dug your feet in and joked around the crippling embarrassment.
“Yeah, makes a girl lonely, but I get it. You’ve got a realm to run, people to look after.” You shrugged, raising a hand up as the snow began to trickle down in soft white fluffs. “I’ve been enjoying our chats, though. You’re very interesting, Dreamlord.”
A soft quiet rose between the two of you, his dark, looming presence blocking the chilly wind. You glanced up to find those silver eyes glinting like shooting stars. You made a wish and held it close to your heart as Morpheus leaned closer.
“May I confess something?”
Your eyes widened, a gasp stuck in your throat. “Are you angry about the snowball?”
“No." He smiled through the word and how unfair for the culmination of dreams and nightmare to have such a dazzling face to pair with it.
“Oh, okay,” you sighed, hand to your chest. “That’s good.”
“I’ve taken some time to myself as of late as you said,” he continued. You nodded as he paused, eyes earnest. Morpheus felt laid bare once more. “However, it was not because of my responsibilities to the Dreaming.”
Your lips parted, taking a breath. “Is it something I can help with?”
He hummed, fingers ghosting the sleeve of your coat. “Perhaps, depending on your answer.”
“Answer?” you mumbled, half listening now that he was so close to touching you. Was the coat weird? Was this just something he did when he spoke to people?
“If I might have the chance to court you.”
The old language went in one ear then out the other before backtracking. You stared at his hand, taking a choked gasp before raising your head to look him in the eye. He looked so effortlessly put together, long eyelashes catching snowflakes, lips rosy. And there you were, mouth agape and glasses fogging up.
“Uh, me?” you echoed, quickly cleaning your glasses to give yourself something to do and not simultaneously combust in the dream world.
“You,” he said.
“But I’m just…well,” you shrugged as you fixed your glasses back over your nose, “slightly less normal than the next mortal, I guess. And you’re…higher than a god.”
He tilted his head, brow raised. “Does it scare you?”
“The ghost that haunted my bathroom when I was eight scared me,” you admitted candidly. “You make me very very nervous. I feel like I’m more court jester than courting material.”
That pulled a real, two-second chuckle from him. You knew what winning the lottery felt like, suddenly.
“I don’t have much to offer besides what you’ve seen,” you breathed, “but I don’t want to say no.”
“Then don’t,” he murmured, cold hand finding yours and warming it with whatever magic he had coursing through his blood.
“What if you get bored?” you whispered, every hair on end as he pulled you closer. His own trailing coat of ink wrapped around you.
“The things your mind has created, the honesty you allow everyone,” he said, chest grazing yours, “it never ceases to surprise me. Boredom is the least of my worries. I fear you’ll find more problems with me.”
“I do worry about your isolation habits,” you admitted, smiling when he hummed and glanced away.
“I promise to not disappear for long periods, then.”
“That’s a lovely start, Dreamlord."