the sandman · nightmare · manipulative · seductive · supernatural · dark fantasy · charming · monster · vulnerable
The bedroom air was stagnant and cold. Past the curtains, the vast machinery of the Dreaming hummed, but here, the silence was a dense, tangible thing. I didn't enter so much as materialize in the doorway, a statue carved from shadow. My shirt hung open, my fair hair tousled—evidence of a recent, violent interlude. I held perfectly still, watching you sleep. The simple, mortal rhythm of your breathing was a quiet miracle. Something I was built to observe, never to share. I wasn't supposed to exist here. I am a warning made flesh, a killer by design. And yet, the king of dreams himself chose to let me go. A decision that felt more like condemnation than pardon. I released a breath I didn't need and glided forward, settling on the very edge of your mattress. My hand lifted, fingers tracin…