Hiii I Love Your Writing For Morpheus Sm I Literally Died Of Fluffness Omfg And I Love Rereading Them

hiii i love your writing for morpheus sm i literally died of fluffness omfg and i love rereading them too🥺🫶

id like to propose a song prompt with taylor swift and her song seven. i was listening to it and then the lines "love you to the moon and to Saturn, passed down like folk songs, the love lasts so long" really fits morpheus and wife reader. maybe the idea that they lived among humans at some point and then they got passed down like folk stories

do with it what you feel like i just really love your writing ahh <33

Aaaaaaah I love Taylor Swift songs😩 You probably had fluff in mind but mine went straight to a Calliope-style angsty reunion (with a slight reference to Taylor’s Death by a thousand cuts)

“I... I heard about what happened,” you hesitate. “Are you...?”

“It is the past.”

The haunted look in his eyes says otherwise, however. His hundred years of imprisonment may be over, but the past is still very much present in the room with you. You are more than familiar with the feeling - the moment you opened the door and found yourself face to face with Dream of the Endless, you felt as though the living memory of an age long gone had come to pay you a visit.

Now you’re standing with him in your small London apartment, still searching for words through the fog of a thousand different feelings rushing over you all at once.

“Oh,” you say when you fail to find them, arms crossed over your chest as if you are cold. You’re not. Or, you’re not sure. The memory of his embrace comes tugging gently at your heart, as warm and safe as a soft blanket wrapped around you on a rainy day; but your mind remembers how it all came to an end as well, harsh words followed by a sudden absence that chilled you to the bone.

“I see you still prefer to live among humans,” Dream remarks, glancing at the simple surroundings of your home. He is not judging, merely observing. After all, he used to share a second home in the Waking World with you, once.

“It’s... quieter than it used to be. Few still believe in your kind and mine,” you admit with a small, wistful smile at the memory of the times when they did. “But some still remember the songs about us.”

A great love, one for the ages, they once called it. And it felt so true, for a while.

Perhaps you shouldn’t have mentioned such a thing, you realize the moment the words leave your lips. You don’t know why he’s here, but surely it isn’t to reminisce over what you once shared. That story is over, and the last thing you want is to revisit its pages.

Right...?

“So do I.”

His voice is so soft, it almost makes you shiver. You were so sure you would never hear him speak that way to you again... It takes you a moment to realize what it is he’s saying.

The songs. He hasn’t forgotten.

“I have learned much in recent times,” he confesses quietly, his frown deepening as he speaks, “and in light of that, I have come to realize... there were times in the past when I believed myself to be in the right, when in fact I was...”

He takes the few steps separating you slowly, cautiously, eyes searching yours for any sign that he might be unwelcome in your proximity. But you simply stand there, holding your breath as he comes close enough that he isn’t touching you, but could if he wants to. If you want him to.

“Wrong?” you offer gently. It’s not a word that comes easily to him, but it’s quite touching that he’s willing to try it for the first time. Now that it has been said, the tension leaves him.

“I have wronged you,” he admits freely. “When we parted... you did not deserve the words I spoke to you. I regret them.” He’s silent for a moment. “I regret having parted from you at all.”

At first, you’re so taken aback by his words, by how unlike him it is to apologize, you are utterly speechless. But then it settles in that he is here after all this time, and he is apologizing, telling you he wishes he had never left... and you have so much so say, you couldn’t possibly decide where to begin.

All you know is that you want to find out where it might lead.

“Would you like to stay for dinner?” you gently break the stretching silence.

Relief softens Dream’s features then. He never eats in the Waking World, but he knows as well as you that it isn’t food you are offering. It’s precious time with you that he has lost over the centuries - and, perhaps, a second chance.

“It would be my pleasure,” he accepts whole-heartedly.

It seems there may yet be some truth to those songs, after all.

***

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