morpheus x reader oneshots & headcanons

dream confessing his love to you would include

The rippled marble doors of the throne room slammed shut behind Morpheus, and he immediately felt lost. He didn't know where to start. Didn't understand where he could start. Not with the punch he felt in his gut, doubling him over with every step. The thundering in his ears, pounding into his skull as if the world were collapsing down on him in shattering shards of glass. The pain in his heart, as if Lucifer had pierced their arm through his chest and began squeezing their fist. He was so unused to the feeling, the ache, the desolation and despair and desire of love, that they hounded him as he walked through his empty halls like a shadowed ghost. Its footsteps were in rhythm with his, and yet as much a stranger to himself as the waking world defied dreams.

Before he had time to choke back down his heart; to file away such foolish, damning nonsense as the ideals of love into the abysses of his mind, the toes of his boots reached over the edge of his dock. He was lost in the cold mists that bit his face, for a moment, until the sight of a diamond tear dripping into the wallowing tides brought him back to himself. Although his stricken face would never give away the anguish he was feeling inside, a soft cough from a following Lucienne was all the note he needed to realise that she understood completely.

This was something he must do, unless he be torn apart from the inside out. Lest he be ravished and flurried into a whirlwind of sand and dust just by the mere thought of you.

The last thing he heard, as he reached slender fingers down into the murky depths and swept them away in search of you, was Lucienne's concerned voice. 'Take care, my Lord. The Realm may be able to manage two majesties... but it will not be able to manage without any. Take care. Don't let yourself be swept away again.'

It was far too late for that. As Lucienne brushed down her tailcoat, and took one last peering look down at the water, she sighed to herself and wandered back to the palace. With each step, she became more and more resigned to the fact that she may face another lifetime or two here, with nothing but empty shelves and crumbled walls for company.

It takes Dream even less time to find you. He stalks through long stalks of wheat, black coat draped across his shoulders to save his pale face from the burning gold sun. Even though you don't understand who he is yet, you can picture him clear as day in your mind. Even as you sit, watching over the rolling hills on a bough of an orange tree, the sight of Dream wandering over the land makes you laugh. He sticks out like a straw scarecrow, the birds following him and pecking at his feet as he glides over the mud. He seeks you, even though he can't see you; a pull at his heart pulls him forward into the harsh burn of the daylight.

Then, like mist, he awkwardly begins the descent up the rough bark; it smarts the palms of his hands as he hauls himself up the branches, his coat becoming entwined with a few stubborn twigs and floating down to the rabbit burrow by the tree roots below, but he doesn't give up. With a final grunt of effort, his hazy presence becomes known to you as he swings his lanky leg over the branch, and begins shuffling to rest by your side. You can't see him yet, not fully, he's still far too full of pride and lurking fear to allow that. You can, however, feel the weight dip beside you, turning you ever so slightly down towards the dew lined grass.

You give Dream a moment, putting the pieces together and realising that he's the man who has been following you, plaguing your dreams and overpowering your subconscious for so, so long. It felt like an eternity, waiting to meet him, and it feels like even longer still as groans and hoarse huffs are the only things that vibrate through the shimmery air next to you. It's like an autumn wind howling through a chimney, the way his chest trembles as you feel the weight of his hand that keeps hovering, before quickly withdrawing from your own. His fingers keep glancing over your palm, akin to a dragonfly skirting over the lily pads in the pond just on the edge of your vision, before quickly darting away again.

He shifts, and even you realise that he's about to run away from this again. From you. From the deepest, truest parts of himself, that he's too stubborn to open up and leave vulnerable to your world. He begins to come into view now, retreating inside himself, into the shell of his coat as if that would protect the oh so powerful, and oh so terrified Dream of the Endless from love.

You grab onto him, reaching through the last remaining shadows and latching onto the hand he has pulling on the lapel of his jacket. At first he winces, as if you've scarred his fingers at the touch. After a moment of just holding your hand out to him, though, his slender fingers begin to slowly move through the air and rest onto yours.

He looks awful: as if he hadn't slept himself in near millennia. His hair is dishevelled, and you guess that he's tried to flatten the tufts of fringe over his eyes to hide them. He keeps darting to look down at the ground, then a quick glance of confusion at the way you're cradling his fingers against your palm, then looking up with tight lips to your eyes. Even though he hasn't said anything, you understand deep within your stomach how much his just being here means to him, by the tears that line his tired eyes.

You just want to pull him down by the shoulders and rest his head against your neck, but you give him the dignity and the time he needs to say what he needs. To unblock the ache in his heart that has built up for so long, he's afraid he'll feel an empty husk if he lets any of it slip out.

'I... I'm sorry', he starts, his voice hoarse and hollow and remnant of someone who has been recently wracked with sobs. 'I didn't... I didn't mean to scare you.'

'You didn't scare me. In fact, I think I've been expecting you for a long time now. I'm just amazed you even came at all, by the way you always stay at the fringes of my dreams.'

You squeeze his hand. He swallows drily, but he doesn't pull away. Instead, he allows you to rest them down on your lap. 'I always meant to show myself sooner. I've... I've been away, a long while. I've had a long time to think. It gave me time to reflect on my Realm. To contemplate myself in that orb of human glass.' He was silent for a moment. 'To... understand...'

There's a moment of quiet calmness as his thought drifts off. His eyes glaze over the landscape, dreary and confused, as if he's too busy trying to unclog the whirls of his brain. He blinks, eyelashes fluttering, as you lean closer to him. You're so close, he can smell the soap on your skin, feel the warmth radiate off every inch of you. He's so stoic, sitting straight like a bean pole, but he can't help but let the sharp intake of air slip out as he stares down at you like a man possessed.

'Understand what, Sandman....'

Before you have time to blink, he's leant down until his thin frame has almost enveloped you under its inky cloak. He presses his lips against your cheek: hesitantly, tentatively, but the way he brushes his bottom lip against your skin as he starts to pull away leaves you breathless.

Before he manages to sit upright again and whisk himself away, you manage to use your free hand to fist the coat on his arm and stop him. Although he relents, he raises one eyebrow in shock. You only cup his cold cheek, leading his head back down until his forehead has bumped against your own. He follows your lead expectantly, without falter, as you tip your head up and wait to feel his lips touch properly against your own. It doesn't take him very long to understand. It takes him even less time to press his top lip against your bottom one, its plushness caressing your mouth with each sweep against it. His hand shakes as it reaches round to rest gingerly by your waist, his tears beginning to run down the side of your nose, but his mouth never stops exploring your own.

Eventually, much to his exasperation, you have to pull away to replace him with air.

He stays for a moment longer, the sun beginning to set behind his head and throwing its melting honey rays over the dark contours of his face. They make his eyes gleam like a sky full of stars; magic sparks their glistening tails as he watches you. It nearly makes you lightheaded to realise that every stream of silver, every swirl of gold, every bright blue light in his eyes are there because of you. He smiles, a smile big enough to set the world alight with hope as he tilts his head to the side, deep in observation of your every move.

He understands in this moment, what this feeling within his heart truly is. He wants to see you. To touch you. To understand you. To feel you. To admire you. To adore you. To love you for all of creation.

He's spent so long watching from the side-lines. So long, keeping within himself, resigned to the darkness. So long, so alone. He decides, in that moment, to tuck his arm around your shoulder and gently leads your head down onto his coat. He can indulge himself and stay here, in a dream that belongs to the two of you, for a little while longer.