#Morpheus is Furious | Explore Tumblr Posts and Blogs

auroraborealyss · 2 years

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𝐦𝐨𝐫𝐩𝐡𝐞𝐮𝐬' 𝐥𝐨𝐯𝐞 𝐥𝐚𝐧𝐠𝐮𝐚𝐠𝐞𝐬 𝐈𝐈.

⊹ pairing: morpheus x reader

⊹ summary: the much awaited, i-went-to-hell-for-inspiration, morpheus' love languages part 2: nsfw version. how he expresses his love languages when fucking you

⊹ tags: nsfw, morpheus is an adoring, reverent, woman-worshipping Endless who's always on his knees, the king of dreams is a giver

⊹ warnings: explicit language, explicit content (obviously), minors stay back (not that ever stopped me. if you are a minor, just know that sex might not be like this and do more research)

⊹ word count: 3027

⊹ previous part: morpheus' love languages part i.

⊹ now playing: take me to church by hozier

words of affirmation though he isn't the most vocal as an Endless, he does become vocal as a lover. or, specifically, he wants you to be. remember when i said he likes it when you talk to him? this applies here. (of course, by the time he's done with you, you won't be able to form words. but he'll accept desperate mewls of his name.)

call him by his name

not dream, but morpheus

gasp, groan, grunt, scream, whimper, murmur — every adjective of ‘said’ — say it in that way. he loves when you say his name and he the different ways you say it is akin to music. and if you whisper it right in his ear, his name hot against him so he can feel your desperation, he might just give you what you want and fuck you harder and faster

you tried to hold your moans back once

biggest mistake of your life

it doesn’t matter if you were only trying to hold back because you were in the library and mervyn, lucienne, and matthew were just three shelves down having a very serious meeting

though normally private in pda, perhaps that day morpheus was too frustration in being king and just wanted to be your lover. only a king had to worry about looking good in front of others. as your lover, all he had to worry about was pleasing you, and hearing the sounds you make was his signal that he was doing well

you thought that the sound of the shelves being rocked, your heavy breathing, and a book falling every now and then was telling enough what you were doing, and yes, you were a bit embarrassed to be found in such a compromising position with your skirt bunched up to your waist, one leg hooked around morpheus, and your head tilted to the sky as he attacked your neck

so when you bit down on your lip and slapped a hand over your mouth to hide your moans?

he is insulted (and you know how petty he gets) and fucks you even harder and faster than before

hoists both of your legs around his waist so he’s even closer and hits a spot in you that has you moaning obscenely and seeing stars. there’s no use hiding or explaining that away, but you don’t even think of the others anymore. all you can focus on is how he slams repeatedly into you again and again, one had rubbing furious circles on your clit, whispering orders in your ear to never deprive him of your sounds ever again

that as his lover, he owns every part of you (he definitely owns me), including those delicious sounds he purposefully and rightfully earns

and when you start making those sounds again, he is so fucking pleased with himself that he gets even harder

your hand falls from your mouth on its own and finds his hair, tugging on it, harder and harder as you reach your peak and he follows shortly after when you clench around him—all done with a loud cry of his name from you and your name coming out as a pleading grunt from him

when the two of you finally catch your breath, you peek around the shelves and find them gone

morpheus smirks at you before dragging you to the table for part two since “they’re not here anyway.”

always asks for consent

no matter how caught up he is in his emotions or pleasure, always asks you if you’re doing alright and if he’s doing alright touching your body

this man has a praise kink. tell him he’s doing well

tell him he’s fucking you so good as tears run down your cheeks and he’ll all but cum in you in that moment

tell him you were made for him as he bottoms out in you, and he’ll flip you over to your stomach and have his way and ruin you, leaving you a rambling mess who’s only coherent thought is his name

“you can take a little bit more of me, can’t you?” he whispers against your ear as you bite your lip to hold back your whimpers as he pushes inch by inch further, deeper, closer, into you. “you’ll do that for me?”

“you’re gonna make me cum” > “i’m going to cum”

he’ll make you squirt in thanks for reminding him that you’re orgasm is a product of his hard work

did you see how he pleaded with calliope to let him help her? imagine him begging to let him make you feel good

"i can make you feel so good, my love," he whispers as he puts one nipple in his mouth, suck and bite it gently, tugging on it, before releasing it and going to the other one. "let me?"

praise talk is his dirty talk. more into overstimulation and praise rather than edging and degradation cause he’s too in love with you to ever say those things or have you think, even for a second, that you are anything less than too good for him

type of person to say “i love you” as he fucks you

at the most intense moments, like when he’s about to orgasm, he mindlessly rambles out pleads for you to always stay with him and he needs you and you’re the only thing he needs (say less)

so tell him you need him. tell him only he can make you feel this good. because he’s definitely a giver, and the best compliment you can give a giver is to thank them for their service and tell them they’re doing a good job

physical touch this is an Endless who falls hard and intensely in love, as we see with his past lovers. it stands to reason that he'd fuck the same way. he makes sure that he is touching every inch of your body and you are touching every inch of him

has a thing for walls

likes to fuck you against them. either your back to it with your legs wrapped around his waist, or the side of your face pressed against it with your hands on either side as he takes you from behind

he will also eat you out with your back against a wall. makes it his personal mission to make your legs woozy enough that you literally collapse and he has to hold you up or you’re falling on the ground

overstimulation

worships your body

kissed every inch of your body once

on the days that you don’t feel the most confident, he’ll whisper his gratitude towards those parts against your skin until you believe him

is still a sucker for eye contact

looks up through his lashes as he eats you out

looks down at you as he fucks into you

but just because he wants to be gentle and passionate with you, doesn’t mean you can’t be rough with him. in fact, he welcomes it

tug his hair hard as he eats you out and you’ll hear the most guttural groan which you’ll feel vibrate in your cunt

dig your nails down his back and his hips will snap against yours in a speed that reminds you your lover is not a man, but an Endless

suck and bite his neck and enjoy watching him gasp and tighten his grip against your hips, enough to leave his handprint on your skin

however, there is one time you can elicit some roughness from him, and that’s when you ride him

you’ve ridden him on his throne

it was your idea the first time, and his idea every time after

legs on either side, his arms wrapped desperately against your waist as you slam down onto him and he slams up against you

he grabs a fistful of your hair and tugs your head backwards (see gif as example), exposing the column of your neck which he can mark and litter with kisses and bites

a very passionate lovemaker and puts emotions other than lust into it. when you two have sex, he doesn’t just do it to get rid of frustration or because he feels lust for you, but because he loves you enough to want to share this other part of him that so few get

is the type to link your hands together while he slides in and out

presses his forehead against yours when on top of you. he expects you to do the same when you’re on top

if he’s not waiting at your cunt with an open mouth as you orgasm, then he��s kissing you, as if to swallow the sounds of pleasure you make and further drowning in you

can unclasp your bra with one hand

pulls your underwear down with his teeth

bites on thighs

and neck

and chest

i’m not saying this man cries during sex (not that there’s anything wrong with that). but he does constantly have glassy/teary eyes during the show, so don’t be surprised if he gets a bit overwhelmed with his feelings for you and shed a tear or two

just kiss it away

acts of service he's always worshipped you before his capture, but after, he turns into a sinner looking for absolution from the only higher being he'd beg from. and the first step to absolution is looking for it on his knees

the first time you have sex after you reunite, he begs for forgiveness for being gone from you so long in his throne room

sits you on his throne and sinks to his knees before you

doesn’t even bother locking the door because he has no shame in anyone seeing him beg for absolution to you

and he doesn’t hold back from it either, alright? this Endless is making the most obscene noises as he loudly slurps and groans at the taste of you and moans at the sounds of you and ruts against his throne at the feeling of you, you, you

the first time you cum, he doesn’t stop and keeps fucking you with his tongue until he triggers a second one less than a minute later

he’ll add a finger soon enough

crooks it at just the right spot that it presses against the spongy part of you that makes your back arch off the throne and cum for the third time. at this point, your cum has started to drip off his throne, and he thinks about adding it as a design to his chair (you slap him on the back of his head as a no)

inserts another finger and starts pumping it in and out, in and out, even doing a scissor motion every now and then. you come the fourth time

the fifth time, he does all that plus play with your clit with his tongue. flicks at it, sucks on it, does everything you can possibly imagine be done with a tongue and two fingers until you squirt

and he still drinks it all. he takes those two fingers and uses it to scoop up all your cum and drinks it all

he always swallows whatever he’s able to draw out of you and whatever you’re willing to give him

and don't forget to sit on his face

he'd be more than happy to die underneath you, smothered by your thighs and cunt

if you try to do hold back and hover over his face, he'll ask you first if you like to squat over chairs rather than sit on them, before grabbing your things and pulling you down and not releasing you until he's done

if it isn’t clear yet, this man is a giver. gets genuine pleasure when he is the one to give you pleasure and can probably cum just from seeing you orgasm from his ministrations (he has and has no shame in it)

it might be how his possessiveness shows. knowing that only he can give you orgasms that intense is something he prides himself on

probably why he doesn’t mind when others look at you. all he’s looking at is your reactions, and you never show interest. you never give them the looks or sounds you make with him, and that’s enough that he just sits back, smirks, and pities the poor person who tried to hit on you

quality time as kim namjoon says in all night: "we keep all the party in this room all night. we don't wanna put it on the brake, hold tight."

the first time you reunite, he eats you out for hours

only stops because your body literally cannot go any longer and you might pass out (he debates whether he wants you to but lets you rest)

but the first time he fucks you, he doesn’t stop until you’re a whimpering, drooling mess who’s only thought is morpheus

and you do pass out

he’s there when you come to, and he starts again

morpheus rarely does quickies. he’s too intense and long-term for that. he likes to take his time to worship you and he doesn’t want to end because he ran out of time or he has an appointment with someone else. when he’s with you, you’re all he’s thinking about

however, he does like to take his time teasing you

and by that, i mean he can give you little teasing touches all day to get you worked up

hand on your upper thigh when eating with others

presses his front against your back as he reaches for something in the cabinet

might even touch you through your underwear without giving you too much—just to keep you wanting and waiting

he can last a pretty long time, and sessions with him usually involve you cumming so many times that you don’t think you’ll ever be able to cum again (you will. he’ll show you)

always engages foreplay. involves a heavy make out session coupled with groping that leads you to being wet enough that he can just slip inside you

likes to fuck you where its comfortable for you—bed, a couch (walls are his guilty pleasure, though)

will fuck you anywhere in the dreaming, though, cause it’s all him

might even be more intense for him since he can feel whatever surface he’s fucking you on and how hard he’s fucking you or how tight and desperate you’re holding on to the edge of that table

morning sex isn't as common since that's when you wake up from the dreaming

night is definitely prime time for sex

you know you're in for a long time when you have sex before you're even in the dreaming. when that happens, you better hold on, since you'll wake up more exhausted than before you slept

gift giving could be into toys, but he has to be the one who made it and he has to be the one using it on you. but why would you need toys anyway when you can have his cock

might be offended if you think he needs to use a toy to get to orgasm, as it suggests that he’s not enough

and if you say you want a toy just for the times he’s busy, he’ll tell you that he’s never too busy to give you an orgasm and proves it to you in that point

you’ll have to tell him that you can’t take enough if you want him to stop

rather, he uses toys to overstimulate

vibrator on clit while his tongue searches deeper in your fold or vice versa

the gift he does like to give you is lingerie

he gives you an assortment of different colours in different materials

his favourite is whatever makes you feel the most confident

gives you lingerie that is meant to be ripped off you

when he rips a set of lingerie that you actually really liked, he’ll apologize with kisses and promises that he’ll make you more before fucking you senseless

buys you lingerie from la perla. when you wear it to sleep and you arrive in the dreaming in it, he preens in delight

sometimes, he’ll give you lingerie from the dreaming while you’re in the dreaming. that’s completely under his control, and he can make it disappear in an instant

speaking of giving you toys in the dreaming, if he makes it, that he can get behind cause he has absolute control over it. his finger becomes the remote

that little underwear he gives you? with no warning, starts to fucking vibrate during dinner with lucienne. doesn’t ease up until you get up, flushed and with wobbly knees, and run to the hallway where you cum with a poorly concealed moan

when you return to the table, he looks to you with a knowing smirk. thankfully, lucienne remains unaware (or at least has the courtesy of pretending to be)

in the waking world, you like to wear his clothes after you wake up. in return, he takes your underwear

when you fuck in the dreaming, you wake up drenched and with a wet spot on your blanket. he sends you a new blanket as an unfelt apology which he’ll ruin the next night anyway

back to his greatest gift to you being his cock

i see him longer than wider (but not long enough to hurt you. 27-inch dick fanfic writers, stay back). you know, keeping in theme with his whole lean yet lanky physique

might be long enough that you can’t deepthroat him completely, though he appreciates the attempt

but the one time you steel yourself and manage to take him in all whole

nearly cums in your mouth immediately

wouldn’t expect you to do that all the time, of course. but on the special occasion that you want to put the focus on him, that’s the way to go

the way to morpheus’ heart is not through his heart, but through swallowing

all in all, this Endless is guaranteed to find his pleasure in yours, so make sure to tell him that he's doing well, keep your moans loud and uncontrolled, and he'll fuck you out of this universe

𝗮𝘂𝘁𝗵𝗼𝗿'𝘀 𝗻𝗼𝘁𝗲: 𝗂𝖿 𝖺𝗇𝗒𝗈𝗇𝖾 𝗌𝖾𝖾𝗆𝗌 𝗆𝗒 𝖿𝖾𝗆𝗂𝗇𝗂𝗌𝗆, 𝗉𝗅𝖾𝖺𝗌𝖾 𝗉𝗂𝖼𝗄 𝗂𝗍 𝗎𝗉 𝖺𝗇𝖽 𝗋𝖾𝗍𝗎𝗋𝗇 𝗍𝗈 𝗆𝖾 — 𝗎𝗇𝗅𝖾𝗌𝗌 𝗆𝗈𝗋𝗉𝗁𝖾𝗎𝗌 𝗂𝗌 𝖺𝗋𝗈𝗎𝗇𝖽. 𝗍𝗁𝖾𝗇 𝗄𝖾𝖾𝗉 𝗍𝗁𝖺𝗍 𝗌𝗁𝗂𝗍 𝖿𝖺𝗋, 𝖿𝖺𝗋 𝖺𝗐𝖺𝗒 𝖿𝗋𝗈𝗆 𝗆𝖾.

𝖺𝗅𝗌𝗈, 𝗍𝗁𝗂𝗌 𝗂𝗌 𝗆𝗒 𝖿𝗂𝗋𝗌𝗍 𝗍𝗂𝗆𝖾 𝗐𝗋𝗂𝗍𝗂𝗇𝗀 𝖺 𝖿𝗎𝗅𝗅-𝗈𝗇 𝗌𝗆𝗎𝗍-𝗍𝗒𝗉𝖾 𝗈𝖿 𝗉𝗈𝗌𝗍, 𝗌𝗈 𝖻𝖾 𝗀𝖾𝗇𝗍𝗅𝖾 (𝗅𝗂𝗄𝖾 𝗆𝗈𝗋𝗉𝗁𝖾𝗎𝗌). 𝖽𝗈𝗇'𝗍 𝖺𝗌𝗄 𝗆𝖾 𝗐𝗁𝖾𝗋𝖾 𝗂 𝗀𝗈𝗍 𝗂𝗇𝗌𝗉𝗈 𝖼𝖺𝗎𝗌𝖾 𝗂 𝖻𝗅𝖺𝖼𝗄𝖾𝖽 𝗈𝗎𝗍 𝗐𝗁𝗂𝗅𝖾 𝗐𝗋𝗂𝗍𝗂𝗇𝗀 𝗍𝗁𝗂𝗌. 𝗆𝗈𝗋𝗉𝗁𝖾𝗎𝗌 𝗆𝗎𝗌𝗍 𝗁𝖺𝗏𝖾 𝗉𝗈𝗌𝗌𝖾𝗌𝗌𝖾𝖽 𝗆𝖾 𝖻𝖾𝖼𝖺𝗎𝗌𝖾 𝗂 𝖼𝗋𝖺𝗇𝗄𝖾𝖽 𝗍𝗁𝗂𝗌 𝗈𝗎𝗍 𝗂𝗇 𝖺 𝖼𝗈𝗇𝖼𝖾𝗋𝗇𝗂𝗇𝗀𝗅𝗒 𝗌𝗁𝗈𝗋𝗍 𝖺𝗆𝗈𝗎𝗇𝗍 𝗈𝖿 𝗍𝗂𝗆𝖾 𝖼𝗈𝗇𝗌𝗂𝖽𝖾𝗋𝗂𝗇𝗀 𝗐𝗁𝖺𝗍 𝗂 𝗐𝖺𝗌 𝗐𝗋𝗂𝗍𝗂𝗇𝗀.

╰┈➤ 𝘤𝘩𝘦𝘤𝘬 𝘰𝘶𝘵 𝘰𝘵𝘩𝘦𝘳 𝘣𝘰𝘰𝘬𝘴 𝘰𝘯 𝘵𝘩𝘦 𝘴𝘢𝘯𝘥𝘮𝘢𝘯 𝘴𝘩𝘦𝘭𝘧!

𝙩𝙖𝙜𝙡𝙞𝙨𝙩: @aurorarevenclaw1927

#the sandman imagine #morpheus imagine #morpheus x reader #dream imagine #dream x reader #dream of the endless x reader #sandman fanfiction #dream fanfiction #sandman imagine #sandman headcanons #morpheus headcanons #the sandman #morpheus smut #dream smut #morpheus love languages #i'm not going to hell because i'm already here and wrote it in hell #written in hell

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keeksandgigz · 3 months

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it's you and me (that's my whole world)- day 1 of keeks's lover house series♡

Day 1 of my Lover House Series♡

♡rockstar!eddie munson x famous!fem!reader♡

allusion of smut, r and eddie are in a secret relationship, disgustingly fluffy, kinda sad and angsty<3

"the whole school is rolling fake dice/ you play stupid games, you win stupid prizes"

You don't know how much longer you can go on with this lie.

"A PR Relationship for the ages" it was called on every single tabloid, everyone knew it was fake. Yet, you deluded yourself nobody did.

You deluded yourself that nobody knew it was to cover up the disastrous encounter with the paparazzi, catching you stumbling out of a dingy club hand in hand with Corroded Coffin frontman Eddie Munson- your secret boyfriend. In those pictures he sported various lipstick marks on his face and neck. Your management team was furious.

To keep up the "American Sweetheart" image, you'd been persuaded to date some airhead quarterback, up and coming NFL star. And you'd tried, tried to hard to be able to establish something with this guy, but there wasn't much there there to begin with.

But you catch yourself running back to him. Every Wednesday night, he meets you at his New York apartment, adrenaline and fear thrumming within you as you enter through the back alley of his building.

Feeling safe in the comfort of his home, it's like a fortress where no one can reach you, a place where you can forget about the rest of the world and their demands and lay in his arms.

It's a swirl of lips, hands, tongues and limbs once you step foot in his door. The desperation to feel him as close as possible, starved for his touch, needing to feel him close. You seem to crave him with every fiber of your being as you often waste no time getting each other's clothes off.

Feeling the warmth of his skin, tracing the ink of his tattooed chest. He handles you with such gentleness and care that you can't fathom how a man like him could easily tarnish your image.

"Beautiful girl, missed you so much this week" he mumbles against the soft skin of your abdomen as he kisses down your body "Wednesday never comes fast enough, does it?" he chuckles, caressing the sides of your thighs, peppering kisses from the arch of your foot to your knee.

A slow tease, as it may seem, but in reality, it's just a way to make time go by more slowly, an illusion to grant yourself a longer night with him. A prayer to make your Wednesday nights never ending.

That's why you're tangled in sheets at 3 AM, while Eddie draws circles on your arm. "Y'know I don't mind having to hide, right?"

You sigh "I know, I just wish we could come clean, so I don't have to fake date that piece of shit" a gentle kiss is placed on your forehead.

"Soon, angel, I promise. M'fixing my image for you, so we can show up to your fancy events hand in hand. Everyone's gonna wish they didn't make shit up about us" he smiles, cradling your face in his hands. He is fighting sleep tooth and nail to be able to steal a glimpse, one more look, see how beautiful you look in the glowing yellow light of his side lamp.

"It's always gonna be you and me, baby" that's what he'd often say. A promise that things will eventually go your way.

It's too late to turn on the big light. So he allows himself one more touch, one more look, a caress.

Damning himself for falling victim to sleep, he looks at you one last time, already in the arms of Morpheus, as he lets himself sleep.

He doesn't hear you stir at 6 am, like clockwork. You grab your clothes and make your journey down the back stairs of the building, where your driver is waiting for you.

You look up. One day you'll get to wake up with him.

Day 2 is Reputation! Find the form here!

#eddie munson #eddie munson imagine #eddie munson x reader #eddie munson x fem reader #eddie munson x y/n #eddie munson x you #eddie munson smut #eddie munson fluff #eddie munson angst #rockstar!eddie munson #rockstar!eddie x reader #keeks's lover house series

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lvckyyz · 2 months

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parental relationship with Philotes? she's not that well known but I feel like she would be very motherly and caring and try to spend time with her kids when she can, even though she probably has a lot

godly parents VIII (final part)

the gods’ relationship with their children

philotes who hated seeing her kids being alone so she pretended to be their age to be friends with her own children

philotes who used to worry a lot when her kids still hadn’t gotten to camp half blood

philotes who loves hugging her kids when she visit them

philotes who claimed her children almost immediately after they arrived to the camp because she wanted them to call her “mom”

philotes who gets extremely excited when the demigods come to visit the olympus because she want to meet all her kids friends and spend time with her children

philotes who acts like a real teenage girl when her kids tell her they like someone

philotes who visits the camp and plan parties for her children when it’s their birthday

philotes who always spend christmas in the camp with her kids that don’t leave the camp at the end of summer

hera who loves walking around the olympus with her demigods children because it makes zeus mad

hera who made hephaestus build something to protect her kids from zeus

hera who loved when one of her kids from chb called ares their brother and he was just furious about it

hera who usually doesn’t show any affection for her children but learned how to cook their favorite meal and send it to the camp in secret

hera who once found out that some aphrodite’s kids were bothering cabin 2 and went to the camp herself to threat them

hera who let her kids try on some of her crowns when they visit the olympus

hera who will punish anyone who dares to break her kids’ heart

hera who visits camp half-blood at least once a month to keep up with her kids�� life and always end up saying things like “go straight to what matters, how’s your dating life?”

thanatos who was worried that his kids would be scared of him if he visits them in the camp

thanatos who used to ask for his brother, hypnos, to visit his children for him and make sure they’re okay

thanatos who went to the underworld to talk to hades but ended up getting scolded by persephone for not visiting his kids

thanatos who cried when his children hugged him for the first time

thanatos who gifted his kids with silver necklaces that they could use to call him if they needed to

thanatos who refuses to take his kids souls to the underworld and always gives them more chances to live

thanatos who got in an argument with hypnos and morpheus because some of his kids were suffering from insomnia and nightmares

thanatos who spends almost a month asking hades for a day off because he wanted to spend his kids’ birthday with them in the camp

⤷ author’s note:

FINALLY we got to the end of this series, pls don’t ask me to do more of theses, i’m so tired of them🥹 no one asked for thanatos but since i did his cabin’s hcs i though it would be nice to have him on this part, also there was someone who asked for amphritrite (and i thought it was aphrodite😭) but i couldn’t come up with anything for her so i’m sorry..

#percy jackon and the olympians #percy jackson #heros of olympus #pjo hoo toa #pjo imagine #pjo tv show #rick riordan #riordanverse #jason grace #headcanon #philotes #hera goddess #thanatos #luke castellan #clarisse la rue #nico di angelo

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dragon-kazansky · 1 month

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When the raven calls

Morpheus x Female Reader

You, his raven, die protecting Jessamy while rescuing the Dream Lord. When Morpheus returns to his realm, he mourns your loss, only to find a stranger waiting for him in his throne room. The stranger claims to be you, now in human form. He doesn't understand, but his raven will always watch over him.

{Masterlist}

{Previous Chapter} - {Next Chapter}

Chapter Eight - Friends through time

☆☆☆

1389

The first time Morpheus met Hob was a long, long time ago. Dream had longer hair back then. You had been there too, just not inside the tavern.

No, you had to wait outside. You waited on a wall, muttering to yourself about how unfair it was that birds weren't allowed inside. Then remembered you were among mortals and had to hush up. It would only be complicated to explain why a raven could talk.

You had agreed with Death that it would do him some good to spend time among them. Dream had disagreed, but he also didn't take much coaxing to get him out here.

Death was proud of him for tagging along. You were just there for moral support.

Death had come out first. She smiled at you and then went on her way. You waited patiently for your king to exit, too.

Soon, the door opened, and Dream came out. He looked amused. He walks over to you.

"I've just met the most curious human."

"That so?"

He chuckles softly and then gestures for you to follow him as he returns back to the Dreaming.

☆☆☆

1489

Once again, you're left outside. You can't see or hear anything that's going on. Dream said he wouldn't be too long. He didn't expect this meeting to go on for very long as he assumed the human would wish for death.

Dream had explained that a man by the name of Robert Gadling refused to die. Death made the man immortal. She would never come and take him the Sunless Lands unless he asked for it.

A hundred years had passed and Hob still wanted to live.

Dream thought this was fascinating. He told Hob to be there in another hundred years.

As Dream left the tavern, you followed.

"Well?"

"He wishes to live. Another hundred years it is then."

"Who is he?" You ask, flapping your wings gently.

Dream doesn't reply. He just smiles.

☆☆☆

1589

You had requested Dream sit by the window when he came to see Hob this time. He said he would try for your sake. However, when Dream arrived, Hob already had a table set up in waiting for him. You sigh and decide to hide in the trees.

Hob Gadling had apparently become rich. He had made some gold and was living life to the fullest. He was knighted and everything. He was happy.

So, of course, he wanted to live.

When Dream came out of the tavern, he was with a young man. You heard him refer to the man as 'Will'. You flew off after them, keeping a distance, furious as to why he had left Hob. Surely their meeting wasn't over already?

Dream would later tell you he met a curious man. One who wishes to write the most wonderful plays to inspire men.

You weren't surprised Dream took an interest in him.

☆☆☆

1689

You finally got to see Hob Gadling. Dream was there first and sat as close to the window as he possibly could. You perched on the window sill outside and peered in. No one paid you any mind, except your king who checked of you were there.

A man is trying to get into the tavern. He is being held back and told he can't come in.

"Let him be. He is my guest."

You look at the man who had come in. This can't possibly be the same Robert Gadling you had heard about. Last you heard, he was rich and doing well for himself.

Then again, a lot can happen in a hundred years.

Hob sits at the table and shoves food in his mouth. He was starving. You watch curiously. Humanity was so fascinating, and he, especially so.

Dream listens as Hob regails the story of how he lost everything. Even his wife and son. You know Dream has felt loss too.

Yet, Hob Gadling still wanted to live.

You were amazed. He was so resilient. Humanity really was something special. You almost wished to experience it for yourself.

Unfortunately, someone spots you outside the window and shoos you away.

Dream hears you fly away.

☆☆☆

1789

To say you were obsessed with the way Dream looked was an understatement. You always admired how your king looked, but he certainly looked regal now.

You were sat by the open window listening to Hob tell Dream of all that had happened since they met last. Hob was confused by why Dream insisted on sitting near an open window.

Other than Hob getting into slave trading, the conversation was going smoothly. You had been listening with great interest in how the world worked. That's when she walked in.

Constantine.

With her were two henchmen she had paid. Their services apparently involved harming others. You were not too happy to see Dream being threatened.

She puts a drawing on the table. Dated last century. This woman knows there's something strange about these two.

While Hob makes jokes and messes with her, Dream remains quiet and firm.

The need to protect your king takes over, and you do not hesitate to fly through the window as Hob fights the thugs. You fly right for Constantine and distract her. While she tries to swat you away, Dream stands up and takes a handful of sand into his palm. He blows it into her face, and you land on the tables.

Constantine is plagued by her past.

Hob looks confused. "That bird came out of nowhere."

"So it did," Dream says, smile tugging at his lips.

Hob looks down at you as you look up at him. You caw. He looks back at Dream.

"You need not have come to my defence."

Hob has a suspicion he was talking to the raven and not him. Yet, he answers regardless. "Clearly. Still, I didn't want to be drinking alone here in a hundred years' time."

You look up at Dream who merely smiles.

They part ways. You fly back out the window to meet Dream outside.

He is still smiling when he returns to you.

☆☆☆

1889

Dream walks down the street in his cloak and top hat. You have taken to sitting atop the hat, determined not to let him meet Hob alone in case something happens this time.

"You need not come with me."

You scoff and look down at him. "Um, yes, I do! What if you run into trouble again? I'm telling you, sir, you're kind of hopeless without me."

You think you hear him chuckle, but you're not entirely sure.

He's accosted by a woman singing outside the pub before you can even ask him. You sigh as she tries to flirt with him, knowing full well it won't work. The woman is soon dismissed by Hob, who appears behind her.

"Sorry about Lushing Lou."

Dream steps into the pub. Hob takes note of you on his hat.

"You, uh... you have a raven nesting on your hat."

"I'm aware." Dream replies.

"That bird... it can't be, can it?" Hob takes a closer look at you. "That was the bird that from last time with Constantine."

"Sure is," you say, cawing at him.

Hob looks absolutely flabbergasted. "It talks!"

"She does," Dream confirms. "She is my raven."

You caw again.

Dream removes his hat from his head, and you sit on his shoulder instead. They two sit down, though Hob can't stop looking at you.

"Lushing Lou. Is that what they call her?" Dream decides to change the subject.

Hob takes a moment to answer him back, still trying to grasp the talking bird.

"Well, in here, they call her "the hospital.""

"Why?"

"Because she's in 'em a great deal, and because she's sent so many men into 'em. No idea what her real name is."

"Louise Baldwin," Dream tells him. "Her father was in the British army. Her cousin raped, impregnated, and deserted her when she was just a child."

"How do you know all that?" Hob asks.

Dream has never once told this man who he is. He never explained anything.

Dream still does not answer him.

"Your cup is empty. You need more wine."

You chuckle. Hob glances between the two of you.

"You knew Lady Johanna. You know Lushing Lou. You know everyone, don't you?" Hob asks.

"I saw her again, you know."

"Who? Lady Johanna?"

"She undertook a task for me and succeeded admirably, I might add."

"That might be the only thing I've learned after 500 years." Hob smiles. "People are almost always better than you think they are. Not me, though. Still the same as ever."

"I think perhaps you've changed."

"Well, I may have learnt a bit from my mistakes. But, uh... doesn't seem to stop me from making them."

They both smile.

"I think it's you that's changed." Hob says to him. You look at Dream curiously.

"How so?"

"I think I know why we still meet here, century after century. It's not because you want to see whether or not I'm ready to seek death. I don't think I'll ever seek death. By now, you know that about me. So, I think you're here for something else."

The silence from Dream made you uncomfortable. He was generally a quiet person, but this... this was something else. He didn't look pleased.

"Dream?" You called softly.

He doesn't look at you. He keeps his eyes trained on Hob.

"And what might that be?"

"Friendship. I think you're lonely."

"You dare..."

"No, look, I'm not saying-"

"You... dare suggest one such as I might need your companionship."

"Yes. Yes, I do."

Dream stands. You remain seated on his shoulder.

"Then I shall take my leave of you and prove you wrong."

Hob stands.

Dream marches out of the pub. You take flight, soaring above him once you're outside. It's raining, but you don't mind.

Hob chases after him.

You hear him say that if they meet again in a hundred years, it will be because they're friends.

Dream doesn't not answer him.

☆☆☆

By 1989, Dream is locked up in the basement of the Burgess house, and you are dead. Well, as far as Dream knows you're dead.

You're actually back in the Dreaming getting used to your new human form.

Hob isn't even a thought after everything that's gone on.

Hob Gadling sits in the bar alone.

Dream did not come.

☆☆☆

You stand with your arm still looped with Dream's standing at a fence. The pub had shut down. You turn and look at Morpheus.

"I'm sorry."

"What for?" He asks, his voice as gentle as always.

"About this."

"It is not your fault. This place wasn't going to last forever."

"I suppose not..."

Dream looks at the fence and sees the red paint. The New Inn. He looks at the line, which goes along the fence and around the corner.

He starts to lead you down that way.

"Where are we going?" You ask, following him. Your arm was still looped with his, so you had no choice.

"For a drink."

Dream leads you to another building. The New Inn. You smile as you realise what that sign meant. It was a message.

Morpheus leads you inside.

There he sits. Hob Gadling is marking some papers in front of him. Slowly, he lifts his head, and his eyes meet Dream's. He smiles.

"You're late."

Morpheus smiles, too. "It seems I owe you an apology. I've always heard it impolite to keep one's friends waiting."

They smile at each other still.

Morpheus pulls up a chair for you, holding it until you're sat, and then sits beside you. You look between him and Hob, who is staring at you.

"And who's this beautiful soul?" Hob asks, smiling at you.

You feel shy again.

"This is my raven." Dream says, smiling.

"Your... raven?" Hob is suddenly struck with the memory of the talking bird. "So I did not dream the raven."

You chuckle. "Hello, Hob."

"You're not a bird."

"I am sometimes. Not today."

Hob chuckles and then glances at Dream. "I hope he's looking after you."

"It's me who looks after him." You say.

"Oh, that I believe." Hob laughs.

"Hey." Dream looks at you. He is amused, you can tell.

You laugh. Hob laughs. Dream gives in and chuckles.

Hob orders you a drink, but you dare not touch it. Human things are still new to you. However, you listen to his stories.

And you feel Dream hold your hand.

☆☆☆

@missdreamofendless - @kpopgirlbtssvt - @sitkafay - @snowsatsu - @ladyofdreaming - @thoughtsfromlayla - @modest-irish-goddess - @mystic-mara -

#when the raven calls #morpheus x reader #the sandman #female reader #dragon writes

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lostelfwriting · 2 months

Text

Bury Me with a Rose, We Both Have Thorns (Prologue)

Rating: Explicit

AO3 Warning: No Archive Warnings Apply

Relationships: Death & Dream, Dream & Hob, Dream/Hob Gadling

Characters: Dream of the Endless | Morpheus, Death of the Endless, Hob Gadling, Jessamy, Matthew, Corinthian, Lucienne

Additional Tags: NO Major Character Death, Hanahaki Disease, Terminal Illnesses, Thoughts about death and dying, Decaying Health, Refusing Treatment, Strong Language, Unrequited Love, Enemies to ?, Past Minor Characters Death(s), Protective Death of the Endless, Doctor Human!Death of the Endless, Alternate Universe - Human, Tattoo Artist Dream of the Endless | Morpheus, Flower Shop Owner Hob Gadling, Blood, Angst with a Happy Ending

Word count: 32k

I'm posting the whole work here on the 1st of March, but I strongly reccommend you read it on AO3, where I will be posting one chapter per day. Either way, click Read More or go to AO3 to read the Prologue!

Written for the event @the-centennial-husbands-bigbang. With beautiful art by @five-and-dimes!

It is a slow day at the studio, so while he is waiting for his next appointment, Dream is – like he does almost all of his free time – sketching new tattoo designs to add to his portfolio and listening to music loud enough to completely shut out his own thoughts. He is sketching a snake, having no doubt that it will catch someone’s eye. There is always someone who wants a tattoo of a snake. He pauses to look at his progress and ends up snorting in disbelief.

The drawing is truly a snake, but the reptile is weaving among the stems of flowers instead of a dead branch like Dream had intended. And they are ugly flowers at that. He is pretty sure that he gave a pot of those flowers to his secondary school teacher, who always called him Murphy, even though he hated that nickname. He can’t resist snapping a picture of the flowers with his phone and trying to look up what they are, but once he finds the name – cyclamen – he refuses to look up their meaning. It would surely be something stupid, like forbidden love, or maybe hopelessness.

Even the snake’s scales seem to actually be made of flower petals, and Dream rolls his eyes as he flips the page of his sketchbook. The downside to trying to tune his mind out is that he doesn’t notice when his subconsciousness begins to interfere with his process, and it has led to many flowery paintings in the past months. With a sigh, he starts copying the usable parts of the design onto another page until an insistent thought makes him pause mid-movement.

Just a few weeks ago, he would have been furious if this had happened. He used to tear those ruined sketches to pieces and then go outside into the late winter chill and glare at every passing person who dared to look his way. He wished they all felt as bad as he did, and most of all, his neighbour with his shop opposite Dream’s studio, with its bright, flowery logo.

Today’s drawing incident feels like just a small inconvenience. He feels zero anger, though he might still opt to destroy the sketch later, just for the miniscule satisfaction that the action will bring him. Or maybe he will keep it. Pin it to the wall next to his bed and look at it every night. He will look at the ugly flowers and realise with wry amusement and aching hollowness that he has finally accepted his fate.

He, Morpheus Endeles, is going to die.

He thinks about it and waits for anger or grief to appear, but they don’t. Good. He was getting sick of the self-pity. It has been months since he noticed the first symptom – the occasional cough – as something seemed to tickle his throat, easily blamed on a bit of dust. And then, a bit later, when he lay awake late at night and everything around him was quiet, he heard the soft rustle of leaves as he breathed. He didn’t need a doctor to tell him that he had the Hanahaki Disease. He tears the ruined sketch out and shreds it into tiny pieces, enjoying the bit of satisfaction that it brings him. Maybe he is still harbouring some badly suppressed anger. He doesn’t need a fortune teller to tell him that he has no chance of getting affection from the person he hopelessly loves. Because it is his neighbour, the owner of The White Rose, Robert Gadling, a straight man who rightfully dislikes Dream.

+*+*+*+*+

Cyclamen: resignation and good-bye

#my writing #bury me with a rose #centennial husbands big bang #dreamling #hanahaki disease #angst #happy ending

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slothgiirl · 2 years

Text

under-negotiations

morpheus x reader. no use of y/n. fuck, with feeling, aka smut (rough-ish) unedited (eve babitz would understand)

“I know about Nada,” you tell Morpheus when he reaches for you. His hand halts, hovering over your cheek. You long for his cool touch against you on this hot summer night. Even at midnight, the warmth of the day remains ever present.

But you also know about Nada.

And that more than anything frightens you. Already, you were aware of who he was. Just because he appeared to you as a man, did not make him flesh and blood. And yet knowing all that, being aware of his severe reputation in the supernatural community, had not stopped your attraction to him blossoming into more. You had grown fond of the melancholic and surly man.

In the stories, it always went badly for the mortal.

What could you expect from Morpheus who was unyielding on a good day.

“Has Desire visited you,” he asks carefully, his voice a harsh whisper, the tell-tale sign of how furious he was at the idea of his sibling interfering.

More tellingly, Morpheus wasn’t listening to what you were saying.

“No. That’s not the point at all,” you snap, pulling away from him entirely. “You can’t expect someone to do whatever you want them to, to obey without question. That’s not how relationships work!” You’d always questioned, with a fiercely independent streak your relatives chalked up to your parents divorce. It was your curiosity, your inability to just accept the mundane answer, that had led you to the supernatural in the first place.

Morpheus reaches for you once more, brushing the back of his hand over your cheek, “I am not human. You cannot expect me to love the same way a man would.”

“So that’s it,” you meet his gaze, those shining blue eyes which held all the emotions Morpheus prefered to avoid, “what happens when I ‘defy you,’ or piss you off? I am only human, my lord.” What could you do against him? Against one of the Endless?

You had never been more vulnerable in love.

You could imagine the think pieces about this power imbalance.

Morpheus blinks.

He steps forward, closing the distance between you and him once again. His thumb strokes your cheekbone. “Do you not trust me?” His voice is steady.

You take in the glassiness of his eyes. You’d wounded him.

“I love you,” you reply softly.

“Then allow that to be enough.”

“Is it,” your voice is small. You hated how young it made you sound.

Morpheus leads into you, his forehead resting against yours. “You are right. I demand more than any human lover would, but I am not so fickle. As milenia pass by, at the end of this universe, when my sweet sister comes for me, I will still love you as I do in this moment, come what may.” He kisses the corner of your lips. “Allow me to show you the extent of my devotion.”

His words stir a passion within you. You treasured this side of him, the rare moments he opened himself up to you, only ever in private.

“Alright,” you let out a breath, “convince me Dream Lord.”

As he peers at you through dark lashes so intensely that you feel as if your soul was laid bare to him, you wonder exactly what you got yourself into. Perhaps this was the sweetest mistake.

Now that you’d granted your permission, Morpheus at last allowed himself to let go of his inhibitions. He took care, closely guarding himself as he went through the world, fulfilling his responsibilities. He was aware that others believed him to be cold and dour, and nothing more. He cared little what people thought of him.

With you, he would let himself give in to the carnal hungers that he had set aside for over a century. In love, he was all Dream.

Morpheus kisses you, pressing his body against yours. There’s no hesitant stiffness, his hand trailing down to rest on the side of your neck as he sucks on your bottom lip.

You’d yearned for this.

The hungry way he kisses you, holds you near, here, in the Waking World. You never actually thought this would happen, not even when you caught him staring. You can’t help but grasp at the lapels of his coat, your fingers clutching the fabric, anchoring yourself in this moment as Morpheus kissed you the way you’d first imagined it would be like to kiss, stealing your breath away. This was real, this was happening.

You part your lips, sighing when Morpheus runs his tongue over the swell of your mouth. His hand pulls at the hem of your t-shirt, moving it out of the way. He rests his palm on your abdomen causing goosebumps to erupt across your skin.

You meet his tongue with your own, tasting him as he explores your mouth.

Morpheus threads his fingers through the hair at your nape, tilting your head back. You whine when he pulls at your hair.

He begins planting hard kisses down your throat, sucking hard at your skin in a way that is sure to leave marks come morning. “Would it be so terrible to be mine,” he utters, before nipping at your collarbone.

You whimper in reply. This was not how you expected the conversation to go. Thinking had become superfluous.

What did wit matter when you had Morpheus snaking his hand up your stomach, leaving you feverish as a shiver ran down your spine. He was the ice to the fire catching within you as he cups your left breast in his hand. Morpheus squeezes gently.

You cover his hand with your own, separated by the fabric of your worn shift, meeting his endless gaze. “No,” you reply in a daze. “No it would-”

He twists your nipple, cutting you off.

“Fuck.” You push at the lapels of his coat, demanding more from him.

Morpheus sucks a kiss in the hollow of your throat, his grip on your hair unyielding. “Undress for me my love,” he implores hoarsely. “I wish to see you, all of you.”

“Anything,” you breathe as he meets your lips once more. You taste him, the feel of his tongue against yours. He was ozone, cloying the way resin drew you in.

Parting from him made you ache, even if it was for only moments as Morphues finished drawing your shirt up. You pull it over your head, discarding the shirt entirely.

A spike of uncertainty runs through you. Suddenly you were incredibly aware of the waistband of your jeans, the softness of your stomach. The self consciousness you’d had at thirteen threatens to rise then and there.

Morpheus cups your face in his hands, “Is this everything you dreamed of,” he utters, kissing your jaw.

“Voyeur,” you accuse with a smirk. You’d felt his presence in your dreams before: had tried in vain to catch a glimpse of Morpheus to no avail.

He doesn’t deign your comment with a reply, silencing you with a passionate kiss that leaves you weak at the knees. There was nothing measured about the Dream Lord now. His grip was harsh, as his hands find their way to your breast, caressing your sensitive skin. Your nipples are hard, your chest heaving.

It’s heady when Morpheus rolls your nipples in his thumbs, swallowing your keening whine in his mouth. You're already lost in him, against him. His body was the only thing keeping you upright, you leaned onto him.

He was wearing too many clothes.

Again, you push at his coat, feeling his toned chest under your hands for the first time.

“Patience.”

Morpheus lowers his head, taking one of your breasts in his mouth, sucking at your tit while he pinches the other, eliciting gasping moans from you. It was a level of supplication in his passion that left you reeling. The King of Dreams proved himself an attentive lover.

Your core grew wet in response to his ministrations.

You run your fingers through his unkempt hair. His dark locks were soft and silky, there was nothing to suggest that it would stick up as much as it does. You curl your fingers in his hair, moaning his name when he swirls his tongue on your nipple. “Morpheus,” you mewl.

The wet pop of his mouth releasing your breast fills the room. “Yes,” he whispers, managing to sound haughty in the dim light of the room.

Your apartment has atrocious light.

Morpheus trails his hands languidly down your sides, kissing the valley between your breasts, nipping at your flesh as he undoes the button of your jeans. He’s nimble, making quick work of your zipper. He works your jeans down, slipping his hands under.

You wrap your hands around his neck, burrowing your nose in his hair.

Anticipation curls your toes.

He pulls away, finally sliding his coat off. Morpheus folds the long coat before setting it on your coffee table, his movements languid, betraying none of the passion of earlier moments.

You take initiative, pulling down your jeans. The heat under your skin rose, desperate for Morpheus, desperate to be touched again. You wanted to feel him inside you.

You shake your ankles free of your jeans and Morpheus takes your hips in his hands, digging his fingers into your skin harshly.

“Morpheus,” you gasp.

“Yes?”

“I need you,” you utter, barely able to think. He’d succeeded in blotting out anything in the world that was not him. You were his.

The thrum of need electrifies your body.

You slide your fingers under his dark shirt, basking in the erotic way his skin feels against yours: the flexing of his muscles under your touch.

He smiles at your words, your Dream Lord. He looks radiant at your words, hearing what was clear from how affected you were by him. “As do I,” he replies hoarsely. Morpheus kisses you once more. With his hands, he jolts you, turning you around without warning. “Kneel.”

“A please would go a long way,” you groan when his fingers brush over your knickers, feeling the damp fabric.

You tremble, barely able to hold yourself up.

He presses a kiss to the back of your neck, his hands on your shoulder. “Please,” he whispers against your skin, before forcing you down onto your knees.

You could no longer see him, only feel his presence look behind you.

You swallow thickly as the moment goes on.

Then Morpheus gets down behind you, pressing his bare chest against your back.

You shudder.

He wraps an arm around your chest, cupping your breast in his palm.

You steady yourself, gripping the armrest of your couch when he shoves your knickers aside, brushing over your wet slit.

“Wet for me already,” Morpheus’ breath splays over your back. He larves his tongue up your spine. “Who do you belong to,” he asks, dipping a finger into your entrance.

Your hips buck.

“Tell me,” he commands, hunger filling his voice. The words of a king. Morpheus sinks his teeth into your shoulder in sync with his thumb tracing circles around your clit.

The most exquisite of pain radiates where he bites you. Your moans fill the room.

“Yours,” you whimper as you arch your back, trying to increase the sweet pleasure of his fingers against your core “yours. I’m yours. Only yours Morpheus.”

He takes the waistband of your knickers in hand and pulls hard.

You whine, the fabric digging into you as it gives way.

The fabric rips.

Your knickers are left in scraps.

“You are right,” he utters darkly, the possessive edge of his love rising, “you are mine.” He drags his fingers down your slit, teasing, “this is mine.” Morpheus rolls your nipple against his thumb. “All mine.” He bends you over the couch.

Eagerly, you spread your legs, opening yourself up to him.

“And you will take what I give you,” he tells you lowly as he lines his cock with your entrance, “and love it.” Morpheus pushes into your aching core.

You gasp. Your pussy throbs as his cock stretches you out. His cock twitches inside you and you, “fuck!” You shudder, your knuckles going white as you cling to the sofa. “Morpheus.”

He’s past foreplay and teasing, pulling out so that only the head of his cock remains inside you before thrusting in again. He grips your hip, kissing your shoulder as his hips snap, thrusting hard into you. Again, and again.

“Morpheus,” you moan. A prayer. The answer to your prayers. It didn’t matter. You were carried along on waves of pleasure. Blood rushed to your head. Your heart pounded as Dream of the Endless had his way with you.

You arch your back, canting your hips to meet his.

He fucked hard and brutal, all passion.

And the groans he made were all the sweeter for it.

He trailed his hand down your chest, reaching between your thighs as he fucked you in your living room. His pace was unyielding. You were along for the ride, clinging on, trying to savor every second as your pleasure threatened to overwhelm like a wave dragging you under.

Morpheus had thoroughly teased you.

Now, as he stroked your clit, he aimed to have you come undone. To leave you debauched.

Finally you understood what Madonna’s Like a Virgin was about.

He whispers against the shell of your ear, his own breathing ragged, “come for me,” he commands, his deep voice always went right to the very pit of you, “beloved.” Morpheus presses the meat of his palm down over your mound, increasing the pleasure you felt as he filled you with his cock.

It was too much.

Your back against him; how full you were, practically split open by his cock; how much you wanted this, wanted to live in this moment.

Your toes curl-

White hot pleasure overrides everything else.

“Oh, fuck,” you go, eyes squeezed shut. You were boneless, weightless: bright firework lights after the bang. His touch scorched, running cold, leaving you blazing.

It was Morpheus’ grip on you, his cock sinking in, working you through your orgasm, chasing his own pleasure. He alone anchored you to this realm.

As you’re in the throes of your orgasm, Morpheus continues to fuck you. His thrusts are erratic with more force than you imagined from the lean anthropomorphic personification. He gropes your ass, before smacking your asscheck.

You yelp, jolting forward, clenching around him as spent as you are.

“That’s it my love,” he barely manages. His movements have lost any rhythm, any coherence in his actions is gone as the Dream Lord comes inside you.

You rest your head on the armrest, whimpering, all fucked out after one round which speaks for itself. There’s no disappointment about how fucking Morpheus would be; for once the dream pales compared to the reality.

He rests his cheek against your nape as he finishes pumping the last of his cum into you. Both fucked out.

Your hold on the sofa finally relaxes, your body goes limp.

Morpheus shifts behind you, and dread fills you at the idea of him leaving so soon.

“Don’t go,” you raise your head, looking over your shoulder at him.

He’s all sinew and muscle, pearlescent skin practically glowing which suggests his inhuman nature. You want to wrap your arms around his waist and curl up. Morpheus has always come and gone on his own schedule that only he was privy to, and you didn't want to wait who knows how many days to see him again.

“Have you no faith in me my love,” he asks gently, wrapping an arm around your waist and moving you along with him.

He lays on the floor.

You rest your head on his chest. “There’s a perfectly good sofa right there,” you point out.

Morpheus doesn’t answer, his hand rubbing patterns on your back.

You sigh, breathing in the scent of him.

“I cannot stay for long,” he frowns.

You kiss his chest languidly, “I know.” Like Ned Stark, he loved upholding his responsibilities, and rules of his own design. You nip at his skin, leaving your own mark on the Dream Lord.

Morpheus sighs headily, his eyes falling shut and you fully immerse yourself in the moment.

#morpheus x reader #dream of the endless x reader #morpheus x you #morpheus x y/n #hope morpheus was enough of a wet cat of a man in this #is this how dream fucks (unsure)#not sure how in character this is since its my first time writing for morpheus

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changedmyminditsnicehere · 8 months

Text

I was honestly so overwhelmed by the response to my last fic post. The Sandman fandom has been so welcoming, I wanted to write something again - I've never been this inspired! This is still a little rough I fear, but I hope however it finds enjoys it!

AO3 link here for people who prefer to read it there!

---

When Dream had slammed his way into the bathroom at minute 46 - approximately - of Hob's shower, and minute negative 14 since Dream was supposed to have left - definitely - he had done so with the one clear and cogent goal in mind. What that goal had been, he was slowly being forced to admit, he had no idea.

"Morpheus? That you? It better be you mate, I am not dealing with a home invasion in the scud." Hob sounded impressively cheery for someone considering facing criminals in the nude. Morpheus was trying not to consider not to consider what it would be like to be tackled by a naked Hob. Morpheus was, despite the incredibly see-through shower curtain, trying not to consider what Hob looked like naked.

One could argue that, as he was barging in on his flatmate's post-rugby shower, he should have expected said flatmate to be somewhat naked. It wouldn’t even be the first time Hob had been somewhat naked in front of Morpheus. They had shared accommodation, university and onwards, for five years now and Hob was hardly shy. He had a habit of stripping on his way to the shower after particularly enthusiastic rugby matches. Morpheus would perish before being seen, as Hob was apparently so willing to be, dripping with sweat, flushed with exertion and panting heavily as he maniacally pulled his muddy clothes off. The first time this vision graced him, Morpheus had thought he might perish anyway. Morpheus had hoped that by regular exposure to this post-match divestment, he might have built up a tolerance that would allow him this brief escapade. A foolish hope it seemed.

“Morpheus?” "Mn." Hob let out a whistling breath. "Good good. I'm not up for naked tackling today." "...hmn" "You okay out there?" "I am just getting my pomade." "God yeah sorry, dinner with your sister right? Didn't mean to take so long, sorry mate. I'll be right out." There were many things Morpheus needed right now, including a cold shower and maybe a furious wank. He did not need the image of Hob stepping out of the shower, droplets of water on his chest just asking for Morpheus to put his lips to Hob’s beautiful chest hair and lick them up. His sister was going to mock him mercilessly. The first time Morpheus had witnessed Hob’s approach to personal modesty post-rugby, she hadn’t even waited for him to sit down before laughing in his face and flagging a waiter down to request two glasses of their cheapest prosecco. They were, she had told him, going to celebrate her darling little brother finally catching on.

"It is okay. I will leave now." "No no, it's fine, we're all adults here." The shower curtain was already pulling back. Morpheus considered fleeing. He could move in with his sister, probably. She would let him sleep on her couch and only mock him slightly mercilessly while he planned his move to the remotest desert spit he could find.

And then there was Hob. All of Hob. In all his evenings waiting for and fearing the advent of Hob's Sweaty Striptease, Morpheus had never once dared to imagine what it would look like going in the other direction. If Hob were moving towards him, rather than up the stairs.

He might not be breathing. He wondered if passing out might be the least embarrassing way out of his current predicament. Probably not, unfortunately. Hob was… so much. Hair slicked back, broad chest, his chest hair swirled into patterns Morpheus tried to focus on, make sense of, so as not to let his gaze descend any further.

“Morpheus? You in there?” Morpheus looked up carefully. He was trying so hard not to glance down. Hob was looking at him, significantly more amusement in his eyes’ than Morpheus thought he might have for someone leching at his chest hair. “You okay? You’re looking a bit red, is the steam getting to you?” Hob seemed utterly unaware of his inner turmoil. He reached out, as if to measure his temperature with the back of his hand.

Morpheus could not explain why he did it, except to say that he did not think he could withstand Hob’s hand on his face while he stood there, naked. Why he thought grabbing Hob’s hand and simply holding it would be better than whatever mortification he would no doubt commit should Hob touch him, he did not know. But now they stood, hands clasped at chest height. “... I do not know why I did that.” Hob’s smile was changing. Gone was the cheerful blandness and in its place was not the censorious disapproval Morpheus feared, but something slower, warmer. Hob looked, Morpheus would almost say, pleased with himself.

“Don’t you? You seem to be concentrating pretty hard.” He grinned. “See something you like? Don’t like?” Morpheus frowned in denial before he could consider how incriminating it might be. “Oh, definitely like.” Hob sounded incredibly smug. “You know, when your sister suggested stepping it up a notch, I didn’t actually plan for full frontal nudity. That seems like a second date sort of event really.” “A … second date event?” “Unless, that’s not what this is?” Hob’s grin dimmed and Morpheus couldn’t let that happen. “Only, you seemed pretty interested but you never actually did anything, I kind of hoped that meant it might be more than just, just,” Hob rushed. “You would like a second date… with me?” Morpheus interrupted. “Well, I’d like a first date ideally, but if I can guarantee a second one off the bat, that would make me very happy. What about you? Would you be happy with that?” Hob’s hand was clasping Morpheus’ back now. “I would be… very happy with that.” “Oh, oh good. Thank god. I was worried I’d made myself look like a right knob and I would have to move out and fake my own death. How does tonight sound? Dinner? After you see your sister? Too soon? I can do whenever. God, I do sound like a knob don’t I?” “Lunch.” “Lunch? We can do lunch. When works for you, tomorrow? No, that’s a school day - you want to wait til next weekend? I can wait.” He did not sound like he could wait. “No, lunch today. Now. I will tell my sister I am indisposed.”

Hob’s laugh was beautiful.

#the sandman #hob gadling #dreamling #morpheus #dream of the endless

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why-what-no · 2 years

Text

Being Lucifer’s Daughter and Dating Morpheus Would Include

Pairing: Morpheus x Fem!Morningstar!Reader

Warnings: None

Notes: I chose Morpheus to do this one with because the Corinthian is gay (which is heartbreaking for my sister who loves him).

Edit: I’ve just been informed by the amazing @fangirlfreakingout that the TV version of the Corinthian is Pansexual. Victory!

Requested by: @rachelcarroll1819

Lucifer was absolutely furious after finding out about your relationship

“Him?” The ruler of hell hissed, staring down at you, stunning, regal, and sweetly terrifying.

But you just stared right back, nodding. Not bothering with any defiance in your tone, it wasn’t like Lucifer could do anything to choose who you loved. “Yes, him.”

As Lucifer’s daughter, you were quite used to getting your own way and being important

That was part of the reason that you began to be interested in Morpheus. He was polite to you, treated you with respect, but he didn’t fall over himself for your approval like all the demons you had grown up around.

The first time you had met, when he was an envoy from his kingdom, you thought he was gorgeous.

And while he didn’t tell you, he thought the exact same thing about you

You were intrigued by his commanding presence, his unshakeably calm diplomacy

But soon after that, he was trapped in his cage and you didn’t see him for a century.

You would think about him sometimes, a little worried about his realm. You wanted to go look for him, but Lucifer told you that you would like locked up if you dared to.

When you saw him again as he battled for his helm, you were pleasantly surprised to see him again.

After the fight, you went up to him. He expected some conflict or anger from you, but instead you smiled at him.

“I applaud your strength. You should me proud, Morpheus.” You told him. “I was impressed.”

Dream seemed surprised at your words, but smiled at you. “I’m glad, (Y/N). Thank you. Your kind words mean very much to me.” You were surprised to see how nice of a smile he had.

You saw him more after that. Leaving Hell to visit him in the dreaming, and eventually it lead to a relationship

He was very devoted partner. Although he was a somewhat closed-off person, Morpheus was surprisingly loving.

He was gentle with you, and honest. You weren’t used to honesty after a lifetime in hell, but it was a lovely change

You were a definite power couple™️, respected by all of the Dreaming and feared by Hell

He showed you around the Dreaming, letting you see all the beauty in his realm. As you stared around the land in wonder, he was looking at you with similar wonder

A part of him expected the relationship to quickly grow sour, thinking back to the terrible ending to his past relationships.

But the longer you were together, the more love and trust you both felt. You understood each other, understood your duties and habits. You both had flaws, but those flaws were forgiven every day.

Whenever he would have a bad day, or was angry about something, he would storm into your room. Your presence called him, and he would hold you in bed, running his fingers through your hand and tell you what was wrong.

You were always willing to help him, to listen and offer advice. Just like he would do for you

You helped each other improve, and inspired each other to be the best you could possibly be

Every day was a pleasant surprise, knowing that he was by your side

#the sandman x reader #the sandman #lucifer morningstar #Lucifer Morningstar x reader #morpheus #morpheus x reader #dream of the endless x reader #dream of the endless #dream #dream x reader #dream of the endless Headcanons #Morpheus Headcanons #the sandman Headcanons #sandman x reader #sandman #my fics #my headcanons

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kydrogendragon · 4 months

Text

Forehead Kisses

Requested by @introvertbibliophile!! This was a cute and wholesome one to write, so we'll end our day of Birthday Prompts with this!! Thank you and thank everyone for all the requests! It was fun to have something like this to work on and I can't wait to see how y'all enjoy them!

Relationship: Hob/Dream Words: 2233 Warnings: None Ao3 Link

The room inside was dark. The curtains were pulled over the windows, blocking out the sunlight. The only light within was from the bright screen of Morpheus's laptop. Hob leaned against the door frame, watching his husband kill his back from his gremlin seating posture. His legs are tucked underneath himself, his spine curved in a way he knows the chiropractor would have a hernia over. He glared down at the word document in front of him, his hand swiping across the keyboard in such speed that it hurt Hob's fingers just to look at.

He stood there, listening to the furious clacking of keys for a moment before making his way over to the desk. His sock-clad feet were silent over the hardwood floors as he approached. Morpheus hasn't even so much as twitched by the time Hob was standing just off to his side.

He wasn't surprised. Morpheus had a tendency to get invested in his work. When he was truly in the zone, he describe it and everything else fading away. He couldn't hear or see anything beyond the words on the page and the story unraveling in his head.

Hob turned, looking over at the once clean desk that housed Morpheus's work. He claimed that for planning, having physical papers to move and manipulate were better. It made the area much more cluttered, however. Beside stacks of papers, sticky notes, and sketches, dishes and mugs were scattered within. Hob shook his head gently and grabbed the dirty dishes, leaving the coffee cup from this morning (he still doesn't understand how his husband can tolerate cold coffee) and the water bottle covered in stickers from their travels.

It was only when Hob stretched his arm across the screen of his laptop to fetch the remaining glass that Morpheus finally looked up from his work. He blinked, eyes adjusting to the dark environment. "Hello, Hob," he says, that gentle smile on his face as he leans his head into Hob's soft belly.

Hob chuckles and leans down, pressing a kiss to the top of Morpheus's inky black hair. "Hullo, Love. Just grabbing dishes, don't mind me." He shuffles the glasses and dishes in his hold to make room for the extra mug. "Dinner's on. Should be ready in an hour. Sound good?"

Morpheus hums, pressing his nose into the soft cashmere sweater. "Sounds excellent. What are we having?" His voice is rough from disuse. Hob's not sure when he last heard his husband speak save early this morning. He had barely left his room today. The first draft of his next book was due soon and his husband, ever the perfectionist, was determined to get it right.

"Beef stroganoff and carrots. Figured that'd be a safe choice for you."

"It is. Thank you, husband mine. I will see you in the hour." Hob chuckles as Morpheus leans back into his usual writing position.

"Can't convince you to take a break early and join me in the kitchen in the meantime?" He asks, already knowing the answer.

To Morpheus's credit, his hands twitch and don't immediately start tapping again.

"I-" His husband starts, his eyes flickering between the screen and Hob's face. "Perhaps, once i finish this chapter, I could join you early. But..."

Hob waves away his concern with a smile. "Don't even sweat it, my love. Just focus on your writing. I'll see you for dinner." He presses one final kiss to the top of his head before heading out of his husband's office, closing the door behind him.

It's only after dinner has finished cooking and the tiny colony of dishes and mugs are cleaned (some soaking from the multiple day old coffee) that Hob knocks on the office door once more.

Morpheus hasn't moved in the hour, though the laptop has been tilted to the side and one of his notebooks rests off to the right. Clearly, he'd either been referencing something or he'd been adding to his never ending collection of notes. Hob walks up and rests his palms over each of Morpheus's shoulders and presses in. He kneads into the tense muscle and bony shoulders causing his husband to moan, his hands freezing in place. Hob chuckles to himself as he leans forward to press a kiss to his temple.

"Hey Dove, dinner's ready." He mumbles against the silk soft skin just below his hairline. Morpheus hums, leaning into his touch. His hands fall from the keyboard and into his lap. Hob smiles against his skin and continues his gentle massage, thumbs swiping up and down the back of his neck. His husband groans, pushing back against his touch. He'll have to set this man down for a proper massage soon. Maybe after dinner. He was far too tense after such long sprints of writing this last week.

They stay there, relaxing in the moment, when Hob sighs and gives Morpheus's shoulder a final pat. "Come on, let's get some food in you, yeah?"

With a resigned, Morpheus leans forward and slides out of his seat. Even from here, Hob can hear the cracking and creaking of his bones. Yup, definitely doing a massage after dinner. Maybe a nice hot bath too, if he can pull Morpheus away from work long enough.

Hob holds out his hand which his husband takes eagerly. With a smile, he leads the pair of them out of the dark office and into the comfortably dimmed dining room. He's learned over the years that when Morpheus goes through spurts like this and he's spend too long being a cave creature in his dungeon, the soft light is acceptable. Morpheus takes a seat and Hob leans down and presses a kiss to his forehead, then nose and cheeks which earns him a nose scrunch that he loves so much, and finally to his lips. Morpheus hums against him.

"Thank you for dinner, husband mine," Morpheus whispered against.

"Always, love."

Hob takes his seat and gazes lovingly over his water glass at the man he has the privilege of calling his.

#dreamling #hob gadling #dream of the endless #the sandman #ky writes #Kydrogen's Birthday Prompts

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ginoeh · 3 months

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Dream’s Coat (TM), pretty please??

@chaosheadspace asked for the same! Here you go, lovelies...

This is probably not what you think it is. Or, idk, maybe it's exactly what you think it is? Because both of you know that I'm actually a little dark angst writer at heart lol.

Okay, so this started a long time ago (read: in March last year) in a wild and hilarious brainstorming session that I saved the transcript of. So far, this is more of an intriguing concept to make Hob suffer and Dream repent - eventually at least. I haven't touched it in a while; I'd have to really dig into Dream's fucking ugly side - the 10000 years in hell side - to get this going.

It all started with a 'what-if' variation of @messmonte 's Saddest Wank (1889 instead of 1989!) because in that drawing, Dream didn't just leave his gloves, he also left his Cloak. Here, this has pretty severe consequences. In SoM, the story gets told of how Dream takes Nada into the Cloak where they have sex unbothered by anyone's gaze. So there we have a ‘magical cloak’ with space-time special features…

~~~

Now here is Hob, in 1889, drunk and sad and wearing Dream's gloves to get himself off in a seedy room above the White Horse. He took the garments his Stranger left behind in a mixture of spite and pathetic hope that he might come back for them. He doesn't, of course.

(Snippets and more details under the cut)

(Hob doesn't know that Jessamy *has* actually come back to get them and gets to witness what is going on. This, as well, has consequences)

After, he rolls over onto the cloak he has been gripping, disgusted with himself but still unable to let go of the pathetic need to be close to the Stranger. But instead of falling asleep, he falls into the star-studded folds of the cloak.

And falls and falls and falls.

He barely manages to keep a grip on the strangely wispy fabric. It's what saves him, at first. Because Hob has just managed to accidentally yeet himself into outer space. The cloak is the only thing that's keeping him whole and sustained as a living being, as it were.

(Jessamy is unfortunate bystander to this. She takes off to the Dreaming immediately and informs Dream of his ‘acquaintance's’ mishap. She's worried - she actually likes Hob and knows that Dream does so, as well. Dream though, is still furious.

“Let him enjoy this new experience then”, he says and Jessamy recognizes the stubborn curl to her Lord's mouth. “May he experience the meaning of true loneliness for a while.”

Jessamy rather thinks that Lord Morpheus is really tipping his hand there about *who* had it right at their meeting but she'd never dare to point that out.

She has a really really bad feeling about what this might mean for Hob Gadling, though. Since her Lord is so intent on forgetting that the immortal is, above all else, human and as such not made to sustain himself outside of his own world.

And besides, he is a Dreamer. Lord Morpheus will surely reconsider soon and bring him back.

But as time passes, he does not.

Hob Gadling is not one of Dream's priorities, after all. In the face of the Universe nearly unravelling, the Corinthian's disobediance and its fallout, Hob Gadling gets forgotten for the better part of a century.)

On the other end of the universe, Hob's life is an unending and undying nightmare. He is neither starving, freezing nor suffocating - not that he knows that he should do the last two - but there is nothing around him but the vastness of space. No sound, no smell, no touch but that of the cloak around his shoulders. He is truly alone for the first time in his existence.

Until, suddenly, he isn't.

“Oh my what do we have here,” a voice resounds inside his head. His perception slides sideways, something breaks somewhere in his mind and then there is the form of a voluptuous, incandescently beautiful woman that takes over everything around him.

“A human - here! Covered in my Dream's regard!”

She stretches a hand towards him and Hob thinks that space has decided to cease existing. Maybe he's going mad.

“If I keep you, do you think my son will visit?”

***

Dream does, of course, remember Hob eventually. The horror that rises in Dream, still caught in Burgess’ basement, over what he has allowed a Dreamer to suffer for his own mistake, is as dark and deep and cold as the black hole he has once been cast into.

After he escapes and has gathered his tools, he searches out his sister.

“Hob Gadling? No, he hasn't asked for me.”

She falls silent for a moment before leveling a longsuffering and suspicious look at him.

“Is there a particular reason you're asking me this?”

Dream closes his eyes and shreds the rest of the mauled baguette between his fingers.

“He may have. Fallen though an actualized piece of my power. Into space. And I may have been. Too angry to care. At the time.”

There is the rustle of clothes and he feels Death kneeling before him. Her voice, when she speaks, is very soft and very serious.

“Dream? When, exactly, has this happened.”

He opens his eyes.

“Hob Gadling has suffered my wrath since 1889, sister. I hurt a Dreamer, unprovoked.”

“Oh, Dream.”

He cannot bear the horrified pity on his sister's face.

“How shall I -” His words fail him.

“Go and get him back, Dream. Now. Hob Gadling hasn't called for me - yet. If that will help you, though, I don't know.”

~~~

Or: A pathetic wank and Dream's canonically bad decision making skills meets the 'meeting the parents trope' but make it eldritch horror. Then add a magical healing journey afterwards an voilá - you get this.

Yeah I can still make this Dreamling despite their horrifically bad start. Watch me lol.

#dream of the endless #hob gadling #dreamling #the sandman fanfiction #death of the endless #ginoeh writes #wip tag game #edit: forgot to @ messmonte who's art started this whole thing lol

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cynthiav06 · 18 days

Text

It's only in Percy Jackson Fandom where shipping anything other than the main couple seemingly warrants death sentence.

Every other fandom explores so many other ships as shipping between characters helps in finding out how far the depth of their relationship might go.

Personally, I have always loved the idea of what Perachel could have been if Uncle Rick had actually tried. Imagine:

Part 1

Percy staying up thinking about this mortal he accidentally ran his sword through; she looked furious and confused and long after its over he is left wondering if that's how his mother felt when she met his father. He wonders it ceaselessly at times.

Rachel living in fear of everything she sees, plagued by dreams and visions, and this guy who ran her through with a literal sword calling her a mortal and surprised she can even see the sword just straight up leaves, taking all the answers with him. Long after it's happened, all she's left with is a canvas filled with the sketches of a sea-green eyed guy.

Then fate connects them yet again because Percy needs her. It starts with his need to fulfill the quest and her need for answers, but the awe Percy must have felt at Rachel's courage through the whole quest despite the incessant quips from Annabeth. He is sorry then that he has dragged someone like her to her death and if that weren't enough they run into the Titan King and he knows that maybe he has doomed them all and Rachel, mortal and unreliable according to Annabeth , throws a hairbrush at the literal actual Kronos himself.

On the flip side, Rachel knows for sure that whatever happens with her visions she will always dream of the sea green eyed hero. The images are everywhere. Him fighting, him negotiating, leading, saving them so she draws and draws and hopes it stops.

It has been noted somewhere in the Fandom once that the only reason Rachel was attracted to Percy was because he introduced her to a whole new world as if that isn't reason enough, as if they need a reason. As if it's not happened before with The Sea God and the Queen among mortals.

It doesn't stop for either of them cause now Rachel knows there's a prophecy hanging over Percy's head, and Percy knows she will see its outcome. So they talk of anything but this, whatever they can because neither of them wants to see how it ends, for the world and for them.

Long before Blackjack crashes his hooves on Paul's Prius, he knows it's coming; the end of the world, and it's far too late to look back. He leaves Rachel there because he is never taking her on a mission again, Morpheus knows he has enough nightmares of something happening to her.

Rachel watches him leave as a prickling at the back of her head tells her one of them isn't returning and no matter how wrong it is, she wishes against all odds that it won't be him.

After that, Rachel has only her visions to keep her company. She has started seeing someone's past , it's not his, but if she tries hard enough, she sees him once or twice. She commits the visions to memory, immortalizing them in art.

Percy doesn't speak to her for a good while after that, not because he doesn't want to, he would do anything to speak to her instead of doing this but his life's already forfeit so he might as well save the world. But he doesn't need to speak to her; they talk best in their visions. When of present, they are always of her. He understands why he sees them, for it's necessary to know what she sees, for she can't tell him, but he's glad for the excuse of it. He gets to see her, and he stays sane.

Yup, she's certifiably insane when she gets in a helicopter to see him, but he needs to know.

He was quite prepared for it, his death and her possibly becoming the Oracle later on. He knew it would happen. He is glad in some part of him that he would die long before it comes to fruition, that he would die in a world where they were together.

It would be their shared tragedy, them fulfilling their destinies as he escapes the divine while she ties herself to them.

Rachel had prepared for the same. She could give up over men , she was certain she would never think of them again after Perseus Jackson dies; it would be her eternal mourning and if someone asks she might tell them that the Spirit of Delphi lost her favored hero to her own prophecy.

But Fate's far too cruel.

Rachel is euphoric. He won't die, HE WON'T DIE. He's NOT the hero. The implications don't set in until she is facing him in the Throne room of Olympus. She says the things she doesn't even mean so she can soften the blow. She sees the break in him in his eyes as they share a last glance instead of a last kiss.

It clicks for him after Luke dies a hero. The bittersweet pang of triumph and loss. Blackjack is gone, and she's taken him. He isn't nearly as furious over that as he is about what she is to do.

He doesn't know if the curse is broken for sure, and he definitely doesn't want her to be the test run. Does she not know visions of her ending up like May Castellan are what breaks him in his worst nightmares.

He is the one who sees her take the oath, as she breaks what's left of them. A moment before all things come crashing down, she looks at him, and he looks back. The Oracle of Delphi and The Savior of Olympus have roles to play and loving the other isn't written in fates or destiny but they share one last vision of a perfect kiss as they resign themselves to their fate for the rest of their life; Their destinies forever entwined but never joined.

....Part 2 pending

(Also going to write headcanons of just perachel things and there are many so wait up)

#percy jackson #rachel elizabeth dare #perachel #there will be a part 2 #i want to cover hoo books too #annabeth chase #sally jackson #prophetic percy #sally and poseidon #percy jackson and the olympians #anti percabeth

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alteon77 · 9 months

Text

The Bizarre Breeding Habits of Anthropomorphic Personifications: Chapter 7

It's a tale as old as time.

Two idiots fall in love. Two idiots fall out of love.

Neither one of them is expecting a baby to come along and derail their unhappily ever after.

Chapter One here, AO3 here, Masterlist here

Chapter Summary: Morpheus pretends to be human in the doctor's office. He's... um, surprisingly not great at it.

By the time Morpheus finally locates her, he's nearly incandescent with rage.

It is fair, he thinks, to be so angry, so wholly upset with her for this act of foolishness and for the panic that she's caused both him and her brother. It had been only forty minutes prior that Viego had summoned him, that the maker had called Morpheus to him and then belligerently accused him of stealing May to hide her away in the Dreaming. And while Morpheus had been furious at Viego for this, he'd been more fearful than anything else. The idea of May going outside of the very wards keeping her safe, the idea of her leaving that protection with no magic or defensive capabilities to speak of, had brought forth an overwhelming swell of terror that rose sickeningly up within him in a matter of mere seconds.

The relief he'd felt at finding her had given him only a moment of solace, a brief flicker of the sensation before the mess of emotional turmoil roiling in his mind had swiftly transformed into indignation. How. Dare. She. How dare she engage in such a foolish stunt. How dare she endanger herself and their child by way of such astounding recklessness. Makers are hunted regularly and mercilessly by witches and gods and all manner of supernatural creatures, and any who had happened upon her in her current weakened state would have surely made short work of capturing her.

In the underground area where he'd finally located her, Morpheus stalks to her vehicle as she gets out of it, her face wan and weary in fatigue, all of her as worn out as she herself has been these days past.

"No… I was driving. I don't answer when I'm driving. You know that….. No…. I just had some stuff to take care of…. I'm keeping a low profile. No…. Stop it. I wasn't followed…. Yes…. " she says into the phone held against her ear. "You did what? Why… Why would you do that?" She pauses, and he notices that there's a bottle of water in her hand that she takes a seemingly reluctant drink of, grimacing in disgust at the taste. "No, Viego. I don't know how to get a hold of him right this moment. He doesn't exactly carry a phone or-"

"There is no need to seek me out," he cuts in roughly. "I am here."

His sudden appearance startles her, and she recoils a little at the sight of him, the hand holding her water coming up to rest over her heart as if to soothe the too-rapid beat of that organ.

"Viego," she relays over the phone, her voice shaking slightly. "I'm going to have to call you back. Morpheus is… Yeah…. Don't worry about summoning him again. No, I'm looking at him right now."

He glowers her way, his hands clenched tight at his side as he works to calm himself. "You might inform him that I will be personally bringing you home this-"

"We'll be back in a bit. No…. I've got errands to run. Don't worry about it. Bye." She presses a button on her device and slides it into the small bag hanging from her shoulder, clearly careful in her attempt at ignoring him as he fumes before her.

"Not in a bit, as you say. We will be leaving immediately for-"

"Can't. Won't. Not gonna happen."

He seethes, his anger ratcheting up at her apparent nonchalance over the gravity of her folly. "Are you aware of the danger inherent in being outside of the warding protecting you?"

"Look, I left Viego a voicemail letting him know about all this. I'm sorry if he roped you into something that you shouldn't have even had to stress about."

"You cannot be oblivious enough to think that is why I am infuriated," he growls. "Both Viego and myself have been scouring this city for the better part of an hour, terrified you had been taken by some enemy that meant you harm. And your response to worrying us so dramatically is that you had errands you need attend? There is no excuse for removing yourself from the warding, especially in light of the fact that it is the only thing keeping you safe in your condition."

With great effort, he attempts to settle his raging temper, aware as he is that it would do this world no favors were he to lose control of his powers while in it.

"Worrying you so dramatically? I mean, dramatically is definitely a word I'd use with how you're acting," May snarks before taking another sip of her water.

"And what precisely is the meaning of that?"

"Just that this is ridiculous. I'm a grown woman. I'll go where I want and do what I want, and you are both welcome to take that suffocating overprotectiveness that you're holding over my face like a pillow and shove it up your-"

"Do not," he snaps. "Now, gather your things. I am returning you to your brother."

"I am not a package that you can just hand off back and forth. And I am absolutely not going anywhere with you until I'm done. I have something I have to take care of in about-" She checks her watch. "Thirty minutes. There's a diner near here if you want to get coffee while you wait for me to finish, but I am not leaving."

He clenches his jaw hard enough that he would break teeth were he human. "What aim could be so important that you would foolishly risk being captured to accomplish it?"

"It's none of your-"

"If you finish that sentence with the word business, I will grab hold of you this moment and shift you. I've no patience for your recalcitrance this day."

May scoffs derisively. "You not having patience? Wooow. Color me shocked."

"Tell me what you deemed so necessary that it justified this… imprudence," he hisses, ignoring her sarcastic remark as to his composure.

Oh, no no no no no. Don't throw up. Do not throw up. You've got to keep your water down for just another hour. You can do it, but not… not if you're going to keep fighting. So fuckin' de-escalate this mess and stop being stubborn. It's for the baby. You can absolutely swallow your pride for the baby's sake, damn it.

He frowns at her, thoroughly confused at these words of hers flitting across his awareness. She is not speaking them aloud, and yet he hears them clearly in his mind, a rather puzzling occurrence given that he's never really been able to read her thoughts, never been able to peek past her mental shields and figure out what's going on in her head. He wonders if the dwindling disappearance of her magic is the cause of this, the usual walls around her mind possibly fading as her powers are and allowing him the capability to read her as easily as she might peruse a book.

The color drains from her complexion as what he assumes is nausea overcomes her, and she draws in a few deep breaths, seemingly steadying herself before she gestures vaguely towards a concrete wall of this strange, cavernous area they're both in, the one that smells of fossil fuels and is full of nothing but stationary vehicles. He thinks it's known as a parking garage, but he's never truly been in one before, so he is unsure as to whether or not that is precisely what this darkened, poorly lit monstrosity is. "I'm… going there. Okay? I'm… I'm visiting a doctor."

His eyes narrow as he glances first where she has indicated and then back at her. "That is naught but a wall."

She rolls her eyes at him as if what he's said is absurdly exasperating to her. "There's a building on the other side of the street from here with a doctor in it. I'm going there."

"You have found a suitable healer?"

She fidgets in front of him, playing with the label on the bottle still in her hand. "No. I'm… I'm going to a regular human doctor."

He's taken aback by this, wholly surprised as he moves closer to her. "A human doctor?"

Her fidgeting increases, the movements getting more pronounced. "Yeah… because I'm… well, pregnant. And Tammy was right."

"Tammy? Who is Tammy? And what use will a mortal physician be in your case? Need I remind you that you are no human."

She rolls her eyes again and scoffs as if he's the one who's said something nonsensical. "Whaaaat? Are you sure? Well damn, I guess that totally explains the being alive for thousands of years and not aging thing. I just thought it was my kick ass moisturizer keeping me all young looking."

"May-"

Her arms cross over her chest, and it makes her appear… smaller somehow, fragile. "A human doctor is kind of all there is," she admits with a heavy sigh, a thread of defeat woven into her confession.

His mouth turns down at her words, his brows knitting together as he considers this, grasping for some sort of understanding. "I fail to see-"

"I'm sure you do, but… please don't argue with me on this. Whatever opinions you might have about me getting checked out by this guy today, the fact remains that he's got a hell of a lot more answers than I do right now, and I… I need answers."

She looks away when she says this, avoiding his gaze as a barely there blush lights up what he can see of her face in its sideways profile. An unexpected shame curls in his stomach as he considers the situation before him. She's worried, obviously so, and yet she feels compelled to plead with him on this matter, to ask that he leave her be as she attempts to seek help for herself. The fact that part of this is his doing, that her current suffering is a direct result of the child he'd put inside of her, makes him feel… lowly, as if he should hate himself for adding to the burden of what she carries now when he knows he should be doing what he can to lighten it.

"Very well. If it will… assist you, then I've nothing to say except that I… should like to accompany you."

Shock takes over her expression as she at last turns back to him. "Wait. What?"

"I said that I should like to accompany you. If you will permit me, of course."

Her eyes narrow at him, scrutinizing his face as if searching for any sign that he is lying. "Are you… sure?"

No, he is assuredly not certain of this course, but telling her so would do neither of them any favors. "I would scarcely have offered were I not."

"But… why?" She seems perplexed that he should wish to be with her while doing this, uncomprehending of the possibility that he might desire to help her.

"I dislike the idea of you being unattended while you are so…" Weakened, he wants to say, powerless and fragile and ill. He does not speak those things, however, since he feels that to call her any of them might reignite the ever-present tension inherent in their new dynamic. "Indisposed."

She blows out a breath that's half laugh, half frustration. "I'm not a Victorian debutante. It's perfectly fine for me to be alone."

Alone. That word. It coils in his belly like a poisonous snake, sinking its venomous fangs into the vulnerable flesh of his insides. She had offered to raise their child alone. By herself. Without him even having knowledge of its existence. Not for the first time, he wishes he could reach back through the millennia and pluck that infernal grimoire from the very fabric of the universe, undoing all of its horrid history so that May would never have thought to lie to him about it. A child would have been a happy occurrence for them if not for the dark, thunderous cloud of her betrayal hanging over their tattered relationship.

Still, there is no place for his anger, for his sorrow in the reality of his… of May seeking medical attention for herself. "Nonetheless, I would prefer to escort you."

May studies him warily, clearly unsure of this seeming capitulation from him. "You… can tag along if you want. I mean… she's your kid too, so if you want to be there, I won't stop you."

"She?"

Her apprehension melts away in an instant, a loving smile blossoming on her face as one of her hands settles atop where their child grows, and the sight of this makes his heartbeat speed up, makes that manifested organ thud rapidly in his chest. Throughout his many eons of existence, she is the only one who has ever been able to affect it so, the only one who's ever caused such… mortal reactions within the boundaries of this flesh form of his.

"Yeah," she answers quietly, a joy in her tone that reminds him of the softest parts of the universe. The silken smoothness of her skin beneath his fingertips. The hazy twinkle of a galaxy above him. The muted shine of a sun in the wake of spring storms. The feel of a new babe in his arms, tender and trusting. "She. I've… got a feeling it's a girl."

A daughter. A little girl with May's lovely eyes and her beautiful smile. The dream of it is enchanting, captivating enough that he has to forcibly pull himself from its hold, but the want it causes within him lingers on the edges of his thoughts. If things weren't so strained between them, then he would tell her how greatly he wishes for such a thing, how now that the vision of it is in his mind, he can scarcely see their infant as anything except a daughter. But… he cannot give voice to these sentiments, not with his feelings so uncharacteristically flayed and raw, and that is assuredly what they are at this moment. "You cannot know the child's… gender at this stage."

May sighs and brushes past him, walking towards a door on their right marked Stairwell B. It is instinct for him to match his pace to hers, to keep by her side as she wearily begins the arduous trip up and out of the garage. She's been faint for weeks, and he's very aware that her collapses seem to have no set pattern, no real warning before they occur. It puts him on alert for the risk of another, especially given the fearsome nature of these stairs were she to fall unconscious and tumble down them. And so he means to stay close out of caution, ready to catch her should the need arise.

"Probably not," she tells him somewhat breathlessly, and he fights the urge to pick her up and carry her the rest of the way. He knows better, though. Whatever tentative peace they're trying to create between themselves would be utterly demolished if he were to engage in such an act. "But… it's just a feeling. I can't really explain it."

As they emerge from the garage, the sun is blindingly bright, and he glances at May where she's wincing from the shine of it. There's a nervousness radiating from her, an anxiety so great that it almost seems like he's experiencing it as his own.

"Will you be disappointed if it is not a girl?" he questions in an effort to take her mind off her disquiet.

At the crosswalk where they're waiting for the light to change, she looks towards him, a thoughtful expression on her face. "I just… want her to be healthy. Everything else is kinda… secondary to that."

He mulls over this while they continue walking. Is she fearful that the child might not be well? Does she think that her sickness is affecting it in some way? He would ask, but he knows that she will not grant him the truth of the matter, not now. In their new relationship, she seems unwilling to show any sort of vulnerability before him, unwilling to do anything that might be indicative of a need where he's concerned.

It makes him think of those decades before their union had ended, of those years when they'd depended on one another, when she'd never hesitated to show him the most fragile parts of herself, when he'd never hesitated to reveal his own shortcomings. Together, they had each closed the gaps in the other, had strengthened their varying frailties and softened their harsh angles by dint of their love and respect and hope. But now… that is no longer the case. Now, things are shattered between them, the pieces of what they once shared set aflame by her betrayal and allowed to burn until only ashes remain of their once-great love.

On arriving at the building she had pointed at earlier, he steps forward to pull open the door for her, and she pauses, seemingly stunned by this meager consideration from him. Something vicious inside of him twists, and that sorrow he'd sworn to ignore earlier comes rearing back with a vengeance.

Calm down, you actual idiot, she thinks, and it's louder in his mind this time than it was the last. He doesn't mean anything by it, doesn't care about you or what you're going through. It's just a habit for him. Stop reminiscing on how he used to do this. Stop thinking about how things used to be. Just smile and walk in before he notices you freaking out, for fuck's sake.

And then she does. A threadbare smile tugs her lips up before she steps inside the cool air of the medical facility, a chill taking over her that almost has him stripping off his jacket to drape about her shoulders. Given her mental diatribe regarding his merely opening the door for her, however, he doesn't think that covering her with his coat would be well received.

Across the rather large room they find themselves in, there's a counter set at the opposite corner, its front marked with a sign that reads Check In. The receptionist sitting behind it is an older woman who raises an eyebrow at May and Morpheus when they approach.

"Can I help you?" she questions in a way that makes him think she'd rather not actually help them at all.

May gives a gracious smile. "Yes. I'm Doctor Martin's eleven o'clock."

The woman, whom Morpheus is growing to dislike more and more with every second they stand there, gives May an unimpressed once-over before turning her attention to a computer in front of her. "Michaela Westin?"

Morpheus glances down at May. It's a new name for her, one of a dozen he's heard her take over the century he's truly known her for, but it surprises him still. That she has assumed another false identity is not strange, a necessary evil she'd once called it, but that she should choose to do so even with those she might trust with her health is jarring. Was it simply Viego's paranoia that drove her to do such a thing? Or something else? Something more to do with their quick escape from their previous home? Matthew had told him that their journey to the new location had been an unpleasant one, that May had been sickly for the entirety of it and that Viego had apologized for being unable to stop and allow her rest. Granted, the older maker has always been meticulous when it came to his sister's safety, even during those many years that she had resided in the Dreaming, but... today had been different. Viego had been off. Not for the first time, Morpheus wonders if there is some specific danger that he is not being told of, if May and her brother are purposely keeping yet another secret from him.

After all, it is not as if she's never done it before.

"I found you. You're here for an appointment and an eight week scan. Is that right?"

"Yeah. I drank all the water I needed to, and I'm… good to go."

"It says here that you're… self pay. We'll need to verify your payment information."

"Of course." May rummages around in her purse, bringing her wallet out and sliding a black card emblazoned with the words American Express towards the receptionist, who picks it up and eyes it doubtfully.

"This is yours? No offense, hun, but I'm going to need your ID."

May's all politeness, all sweetness despite the woman's obvious rudeness. "No problem," she says as she hands another card over, this one with her picture on the front of it.

And the woman, whom he can glean is named Karen Talbot, seems just as unimpressed by this as she had by May's appearance. Morpheus feels anger swell up inside of him for this foul creature's disrespect. He very rarely cares for what mortals think of him, but he can see from Karen's thoughts that her opinion of May is a low thing, one full of prejudice and assumption. Unwed and with child, a morally unacceptable state by her small-minded reckoning. Never mind that May is kind and loving and his… Well, his nothing now, he supposes. She does not belong to him any longer, can be called nothing else in regards to him save for being referred to as the mother of his child.

He'd like to pretend he doesn't understand why that realization drives a spike of pain through his heart, but he cannot. It would be too large of a lie for him to swallow.

The receptionist casts a discourteous, dubious look at him. "And are you a… party to this?" She gestures towards May. "Maybe an… acquaintance of hers?"

May seeks to intercede, clearly trying to save him from having to interact with this loathsome female. "Oh, no. He's-"

"Her husband," Morpheus supplies before he can stop himself. He's not given to lying usually, not one to truly waste his time with falsehoods, and yet in these circumstances he almost feels it necessary.

"She indicated she was single on the intake forms," Karen argues, and in that instant he begins crafting his most terrifying punishment for her, begins envisioning what horror he will visit on her when he dooms her to an eternity of never ending sleep with his most savage Nightmares.

"An oversight clearly excused by her condition, I assure you," he practically growls in response. It is a petty thing, perhaps, to allow some of his power into the words, to touch this woman's mind with a hint of the nightmarish hell he's capable of inflicting upon her, but he relishes it all the same. The receptionist pales, and he takes a sort of perverse pleasure in that as well.

"Sorry for that. I'm his wife. Pregnancy brain is absolutely real and absolutely horrible," May interjects, her voice an octave higher than usual in something that Morpheus would call panic. "Should we just wait over here then? That would… probably be best."

The receptionist is staring at Morpheus with wide, terrified eyes as she shakily holds out a clipboard with a stack of papers atop it. "I… um… I need him to fill out the… the forms."

"Right. The forms," May answers, far too quickly as she snatches a pen from the cup of them on the desk. "We'll get those taken care of and back to you in a jiffy."

And then she's grabbing hold of Morpheus' sleeve and tugging him impatiently to a set of chairs at the farthest end of the room.

"Don't do that," she hisses when they've sat down. "The poor woman looked like she was going to have a heart attack."

"Poor woman? She should consider herself fortunate that you intervened, else she would have been thrust into the most abhorrent, cruel fate I was capable of rendering unto a mortal. Do you know what she was thinking of you? Do you have any idea how grievously she was judging you?" he hisses right back.

"Even without my magic, I was picking up on it. Okay? But you don't need to worry about that. I'm a big girl. I can handle someone not approving of my life choices."

He doesn't care. He doesn't care. He doesn't care, her thoughts ring out in his mind. He's just got a vested interest in the baby, and you're housing the baby, so get a hold of yourself.

"I could not stand idly by while she spoke to you so disrespectfully."

The sound she makes is one of immense irritation. "Well, you defended my honor and now there's a stack of paperwork for me to fill out, so thanks for that."

He doesn't know what she expects him to say to that, as he's certainly not going to apologize. But… then he remembers that he had been trying to lighten the load of her stress, and a sense of misgiving washes over him.

"You need not manage this on my behalf." He reaches out decisively to pluck the clipboard from her lap. "I am more than capable of this task."

"Hey!" she whisper-protests. "Don't… Just let me do it. It's-"

"I will see to this. It is not up for discussion."

May purses her lips and then puts her hands up, palm out, in a gesture of surrender. "Okay. Fine. Have it your way."

Christ on a potato, he's really rocking that surly, toddler temper tantrum energy now, she thinks.

Morpheus gives her a side-eyed glare for that comment, despite that she had not actually spoken it aloud, before he starts on the forms. It only takes him a few minutes to realize that he might… be on unsteady footing regarding this specific undertaking. Of course, he refuses to accept her assistance or admit anything resembling defeat, so he forges ahead with what he'd set out to do.

She tries several more times to help him in poring over the frankly obscene number of redundant questions he's required to answer, but he only waves her attempts away. And for a time she seems to settle, though he knows that she is merely taking a different approach as he can feel her eyes on him still, watching while he ticks away at the multitude of boxes. She says nothing, staying silent until he comes to the form titled Medical History.

May chokes out a muted laugh and reaches over to tap the page where he'd just written I am no more tense than usual, certainly not enough to warrant use of the word hyper beside one of the boxes.

"Yeah. Cross that out," May instructs him blithely. "Hypertension is a condition where mortals have high blood pressure, which… you don't even have blood if you don't want to."

As he strikes an angry line through the sentence, he cannot help his scowl. "This is irritatingly tedious."

She shrugs as if his ire is of no real concern to her. "I offered to do it for you."

"This entire outing is an exercise in futility, wholly pointless considering that this mortal doctor will likely be unable to assist you in any meaningful way."

Her face falls, a sudden melancholy coming over her that brings him up short. "Just… don't start that."

Her thoughts this time are very loud, and he ponders over the curious phenomenon anew. Typically, he has to actively seek the mental workings of another out. He's not used to having such things projected into his awareness, and hers seem to be growing in intensity and volume with every occurrence. I'm such an idiot. Of fucking course he couldn't just stow his crap and let me get help. Never mind that I think I'm actually dying or something. Even that isn't important enough to get him to cool it.

Dying? Is she truly fearful that her… her illness is so dire?

His shoulders drop from where they'd been unconsciously tensed, and he blinks several times as he scrutinizes her more closely. She's a gaunt thing, he realizes then, from the dark smudges under her eyes to the unnatural pallor of her skin. Her lips are dry and cracked in places, one particular spot on the lower one especially red as if she is so dehydrated that the skin there is breaking apart and bleeding.

In that moment, he feels vile, loathsome, like nothing less than the most revolting sort of pond scum, like his treatment of her in this instance is even more contemptible than the receptionist's had been. Despite their past and his upset over it, May is currently grappling with something he cannot understand, rendered weak and weary from the weight of his seed growing inside of her. She is uncharacteristically afraid, he can see now, drained of her magic and suffering from what he'd unintentionally done to her by getting her with child in the first place.

And all he has offered her in return for this burden she's carrying is his petulant sullenness, his mean-spirited pessimism.

"I… apologize," he murmurs before he can even stop to consider what he's saying, "if I've given you cause to feel you must argue with me on this matter. It… was not my intention."

Her expression gentles, and her eyes well with tears that she hastily wipes at. "It's… I get it. This… isn't what you're used to."

"Nonetheless, it is… no excuse for my churlishness."

She nods, and his heart wrenches uncomfortably with how very bereft she seems as she does so. "It's… okay."

His eyes narrow as he considers this acceptance from her. How very easily she forgives him. How quickly she dismisses his faults in having behaved so abhorrently towards her.

How different things might have been between them if only he were capable of doing the same.

He must not think of that, must not imagine what could have been. That part of their relationship is done, the path of it obliterated and lost so that only mere echoes of it remain, but he knows that they can learn to do better by one another going forward. With the both of them preparing to parent a child together, they truly have no other choice in the matter.

"And how shall I answer this?" he asks as he points randomly at a word on the checklist of mortal maladies before him. It is an olive branch of sorts, a gesture meant to demonstrate to her that he is willing to listen.

Suspiciously, her eyes flick up at him before she turns them down to where he's indicated.

"Heart disease? I'm pretty sure you know you don't have that." A barely there smile tugs her lips up, and it is a sad thing to behold, like the drooping petals of a wilting flower trying to bloom. "You could probably just answer no to everything. It's… what I did."

"Very well."

"And… whatever you do, don't put down how many actual glasses of wine you can consume in a day when it gets to that part."

He frowns at her, his mind working to make sense of what she's just told him. "I assume… it would be a tell that I am not… normal then," he guesses.

Her eyes sparkle faintly with an unexpected mirth, a sort of teasing shine to them that is still dulled somehow. "Big yes. Biggest yes ever."

"I see."

When he's finished, May cautiously takes the forms from his hand to look over everything, and he surrenders the papers to her without dissent. A month ago, such an act on her part would have infuriated him, but he's… regretful. The self-hatred he feels in the wake of his actions is churning inside of him violently, forcing him to an apologetic tentativeness. And May has always had a far better sense of the norms in this realm than he, a truth he had recognized very early in their relationship when they made their occasional trips into the Waking. He supposes that she would be the best to ensure his answers are satisfactory.

After she's scanned it all twice, she goes to stand, and he stays her with a hand on her arm.

"What is it? I'm just heading over there to hand this to the receptionist."

"Sit," he orders roughly before gentling his tone. "I shall do so in your stead."

May hesitates. "You're not going to do anything else to… anyone, are you?"

It takes him a minute before he understands her meaning. The receptionist. She's worried for the receptionist. It is only with great control that he keeps his expression from darkening in remembrance. That woman had been abysmally rude to May, had treated her as if she were less than, as if she were something low and offensive, and all May is concerned with is making sure he doesn't exact retribution on the human. He struggles to reconcile her kindness, her goodness, with the fact that she had assuredly composed spells for that infernal grimoire, had written the very one that ensnared him even.

"I will… merely deliver these documents and then return to you. No… further defense of your honor, as you call it."

"Morpheus-"

"You have my word."

That seems to assuage her fear as she huffs out a resigned sigh before passing him the clipboard, and he rises to his feet, stalking to where Karen is still watching him with wide eyes, her whole demeanor like that of a rat with a hungry hawk swooping overhead.

Good.

"The… n-nurse should… should take her back in a… in a minute," Karen informs him as she holds out May's cards for him between her trembling fingers.

Morpheus glares as he bites his tongue on saying what he wishes to, which is that she is a poor example of humanity given to ignorance and the most foolish of the moral mires inherent in her society. But he… refuses to speak such truths given that by doing so he would only serve to further distress his… to further distress May, and he does not wish to see any more troubled than she already is.

"Very well," he grants instead, even as he idly wonders if it would be a violation of his oath to May were he to send this woman a particularly foul nightmare when next she slept. Something, perhaps, that might assist her in loosening her hold on her hateful prejudices.

"Thank you, Karen." May says, startling him as she appears at his side, taking her cards from the woman to slide them back inside her bag. "Did I hear you say the nurse would come get me soon?"

Karen, however, won't look away from Morpheus, and any other time he might take a sense of pride in her obvious fear. Now, however, he's too busy peering down at May in confusion. Had she not trusted him to do this? Had she believed that he would disregard his vow to her on leaving the mortal woman be?

Why does the thought of her so thoroughly doubting him… hurt?

He has no time to question her on any of this, though, as the door closest to him opens and another human steps out of it, a clipboard held in her hand as well.

"Michaela Westin?"

"That's me. I'm here. Hi." May smiles brightly, a veneer of polite cheer on her features that Morpheus thinks is but a mask. He's noticed her doing that often in the past few weeks, smiling as if she means it despite the air of hopelessness around her most of the time.

"Hello there! I'm Annabeth. Let's get you back into a room, sweetheart, and then I'll get some more information from you before we get started."

As May steps past him, it's instinct for him to rest his hand on the small of her back, to guide her so that she's walking slightly in front of him as they both cross this threshold.

He follows her into the inner sanctum of the physician's office, trailing after the nurse as she leads them through the labyrinthine mess of hallways and doors before ushering them into a room, a sterile, clinically white space with a large window and a rather tall bed pushed up against the farthest wall. There's a chair off to one corner and May directs him to it, shoving her bag into his stomach as she demurely asks, "Will you hold this for me, love muffin?"

Love… muffin? Love muffin? What a preposterous way to refer to him. The unmitigated cheek of this foolhardy female. It is only with a herculean effort that he manages to bite back his waspish response as he settles into the seat, glowering at her while he adjusts her bag in his hold.

But then… the nurse has her step on a scale, writing down May's weight with a worried frown that makes Morpheus instantly forget his annoyance at her insolent epithet for him.

"Why don't you hop up on the table for me, and I'll get some more vitals."

A strange panic is overwhelming him, but May seems calm, so he tries to placate himself as well, using her reactions a a guidepost for his own. When May's sitting on the bed, the nurse puts an odd device around the uppermost part of her arm, a cuff of some sort with a tube and a humming machine attached to it.

And May remains relaxed.

"It'll get tight, sugar," the nurse warns, and Morpheus tries to distract himself as she presses a button on the device. He studies this nurse, this Annabeth. She is… kinder than the receptionist had been, her mind drastically more pleasant, and he can read from it that she thinks May appears… sickly, more sickly than she should perhaps be. It's not quite fear she has, though, but more pity, a genuine compassionate urge to tend to May which Morpheus finds that he wholeheartedly approves.

May winces, and suddenly Morpheus can take no more. He moves to rise, to go to her, to put an immediate end to this madness where she is being poked and prodded before him, but she stops him with a pointed glare. "I'm fine, dear. They're just checking my blood pressure."

Annabeth looks between May and Morpheus, her eyebrows raising in puzzlement before she seems to comprehend something that makes her laugh. "Oh, I get it. Protective husband is an overprotective daddy."

It's the wrong thing to say.

The blood visibly drains from May's face, and Morpheus feels himself stiffen in shock. Their eyes meet, his and hers, and he can see the sadness there, the clear pain of what could have been. "He's… um… definitely going to be an overprotective dad," May replies, all of her quiet. Broken.

Annabeth, seemingly oblivious to this exchange, goes on with her task of scribbling things down on her clipboard. "Aw, don't fret about it, sweetie. The good ones get that way sometimes. I've had four myself, and my husband wouldn't even let me have my mornin' coffee because he was afraid the babies would come out with three heads or somethin'. It was frustratin' at the time, but in hindsight it was kinda darlin' of him."

Morpheus tears his eyes away from the woman he had once sought to marry, gathers himself as best as he can, and asks hoarsely, "I have read that women in such a state should not partake of caffeine."

Annabeth grins and wags a finger in his direction. "Now you don't start on her if she wants a cup or two. A little won't hurt anybody, even that tiny one of yours. And she sure looks like she could use a pick me up. Don't make it so she's gotta start keepin' a coffee machine and all the necessary fixins in her car like I had to."

May's unexpected laugh is beautiful, wholly melodic. "Your husband caused you to have to stealth brew coffee in your car?"

"Well, I'm fairly certain I'm eighty-seven percent caffeine, so I needed it like most people gotta have oxygen."

The smile May gives is genuine, her usual expression of enjoyment at having someone to converse with, and it strikes Morpheus that perhaps she is… lonely. "You're kind of making me want some coffee now, Annabeth."

"Good luck gettin' it past Mr. Overprotective over there."

To hear May laugh again loosens something in his chest, something that's had a ruthless hold of him since he'd feared she had been taken earlier. He tries to speak, to say anything, but his words are stuck in his throat as emotion swells within him. He loathes that he loves her, that he cares for her still despite that he should not.

"All righty. Any other symptoms you want me to put in your chart for the doctor, sweetie?" Annabeth questions, and the sound of the nurse's voice snaps him out of his thoughts. "It says on your form that you've been gettin' sick."

May's easy contentment falters, her face falling. "I… Yes."

"How often, would you say?

May casts a hesitant glance at Morpheus before turning her attention back to Annabeth. "Almost… every hour."

"You been keepin' anything down at all?" the nurse asks with a frown, her brows furrowed in concern as she scrutinizes May anew.

May begins fidgeting again, something that she only engages in when she's especially nervous, and he feels his heart sink with dread. "Um… no. I don't think so."

Nothing at all? He had known that she was suffering from morning sickness, but to be retaining no nourishment cannot be safe for her or their child. Alarm floods him as the nurse moves to a cabinet and begins rummaging around in it.

"Lord Mercy, that sounds horrid," she says as she pulls her hand free with a large rectangle of fabric clutched between her fingers. "I'm gonna need you to get undressed from the waist down and put this over your lap. We'll try to do the ultrasound abdominally at first, but if we can't get a good picture we'll switch to the transvaginal." She points to two buttons on the wall. "Press this green one when you're ready, and Dr. Martin will have a look at you and the baby, see if he can't figure out something to help you with that nausea."

Help. Yes… May needs help. For the first time since he'd began this little excursion with her, Morpheus thinks he finally understands why she'd felt desperate enough to seek any healer out, even one mortal and ill-suited to treat her.

"That sounds great," May breathes out, a relief in her tone that cuts at Morpheus. He'd been ready to stop her today, had been so aggravated at what he perceived to be a ridiculous folly that he'd threatened to forcibly shift her home.

Annabeth grabs her papers and exits the room, leaving a heavy silence in her wake.

May undoes the top button of her pants before she at last spares him a glance. "Can you… look away? Maybe turn around or…"

He wants to remind her that he's seen her naked body more times than this planet they're on has had stars crash into its surface, but she seems unnerved again, altogether stressed by how he might respond to this request of hers.

"If you wish, I could wait outside."

May shakes her head. "No, that's fine. Just turn around. If I send you out of the room, they'll assume we're fighting or something."

Dutifully, he faces away from her. "Ah, yes. It is important they do not see through the lie."

"Hey, that's not on me," she tells him over the shuffling sounds she's making. "You told them we were married. I was perfectly fine with them thinking I liked to sleep around or that we'd just gotten blackout drunk one night in Vegas and knocked boots without a condom."

He hadn't been fine with it, however. No matter her apparent acceptance of such a thing, the thought of her being viewed, being treated as less than had grated on him. "It doesn't… bother you? That they might… judge you so harshly for something they know nothing of?"

"Nope. Believe it or not, humans are pretty cool about that stuff these days. Well, most of them. The bitchy receptionist was a fluke."

"May-"

She huffs out a short laugh. "Sorry. Sorry. I know. You don't like that word."

His forehead creases."No, that is not… what I was intending to speak to you of. Please feel free to apply whatever colorful language you would like concerning that foul creature who greeted us upon entering."

"Wow. She really did piss you off, huh?"

He can hear the noise of paper crinkling behind him, and he wonders what exactly she's doing back there. "She angered me greatly. Her… attitude towards you was… unacceptable."

The sounds stop as she responds, "There are always going to be people who think badly of you here. You… get used to it after a while."

He can't help his scoff. "Is that meant to convince me that her behavior wasn't insulting?"

"Nope. It's just… It is what it is. There's no point in letting it upset you… Also, you can turn around now if you want."

She's sitting on the table, that mask of false cheer back on her face, the rectangle of fabric spread out over her bare lap, and without the benefit of a thick sweater on her, he can see exactly why the nurse had seemed uneasy when she'd taken May's weight. She's assuredly gotten thinner, likely a side effect of being unable to properly partake of any nourishment. Panic twists his stomach into a knot.

"Why… did you not inform me of how ill you were?" His voice is ragged with emotion, with the great well of battling sentiments inside of him.

The mask slides off of her features, and she glances down guiltily at the floor, twiddling her fingers in a restlessness that speaks to her trepidation. "It just… wasn't something that I really could work into a conversation, you know? Or something I even thought you'd care about. Like, what was I supposed to say? Oh I know you hate me and all but by the way, I'm really sick."

It's the second time she's mentioned him hating her, and despite the fact that he wishes he did, he's all too aware that he seems incapable of such a feeling where she's concerned. "Regardless of what you might assume, I do not… hate you."

Her thoughts, when they filter through his mind, are devastating, wrenching his heart with all the vengeful viciousness of their separation. But you do. I can see it in your eyes, hear it in your voice. You might not want to admit it out loud, but you… you hate me. And I… hate me a little too. If only I could…. If only…. Never mind. It doesn't matter.

He opens his mouth to address this, to deny it, but he falters, his words stuck on the tip of his tongue. After all, what might he say to correct this belief of hers? What could he honestly give her that would change her mind? How can he adequately explain his feelings when he doesn't even understand them himself?

"You wanna press the button for me? So… I don't have to get up and all."

Dejectedly, he reaches out to do just that, but... something gives him pause. There's an odd smell in the air, an acrid hint of ozone and burning leaves, all melded with the iron tang of blood. His power flares at the scent, a warning shooting through his awareness like a bolt of lightning striking a tree.

Outside the room they're in, it's gone eerily silent. Deathly so, he would almost say, and when he expands his perception to get a read on who or what is near them, he's met with a disturbing blankness, one he's only ever known during the time he was trapped in that binding circle at Fawney Rig, the time all those decades ago that he was made powerless by Roderick Burgess.

And in that moment, Morpheus knows two things with utter surety. The first is that he was indeed correct when he'd surmised earlier that May was in danger outside Viego's wards, that she had been reckless to leave them on her own. Obviously, something or someone has been tracking her, lying in wait for the opportunity they might have were she to be free of the ward's protections. The second thing he knows, and perhaps the part that most worries him, is that whatever or whomever has been on her trail is in this building with them. Right now.

NEXT CHAPTER

Tag List for BBHAP: @julesandro

If anyone else wants to be added to this or anything else let me know!!! <3

#dad!morpheus #morpheus x oc #morpheus x reader #sandman fic #sandman fanfiction #dream of the endless #morpheus fic #sandman oc #sandman x reader #morpheus fanfiction #dream of the endless x reader #morpheus x pregnant oc #BBHAP

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xmalereader · 2 years

Text

— Sorrow — || ONE ||

Lord Morpheus X God of Happiness! Male Reader

|| Masterlist ||

Authors Note: Finally! First chapter of this series too, just to let you know this one won’t always be a very cheerful one because I’ve got to add the angst into it and the dark secrets…not gonna lie I’m kind of shipping reader and Lucifer in this one 👀 for some reason I wrote their tension too good. Also, some tags don’t seem to be working, sorry am advance if you did not get the tag!

Summary: Reader, God of Happiness and Dream of the endless, king of dreams and nightmares have come to an engagement. Bringing to powerful beings together, but perhaps one of them still has a lot to share with the other. Readers brother Void seems to be stirring up trouble for the newly couple, perhaps some chaos and pain.

Warnings: Fluff, angst, reader goes by many names, Morpheus being a good husband and, tension with reader and Lucifer, void being an asshole, language, kissing, pain, dark past, past memories, chaos, sad reader, Greek mythology, mentions of amnesia, reincarnation, past lovers, marriage, gods.

Word count: 3.7k

—

News had spread quickly amongst both families, the endless hearing about their brother, Dream, getting engaged with the god of happiness while Sunny’s siblings hear of the great news too. Both Love and Gaia where happy for their younger brother, leaping with joy as they chattered about their brothers new future. Everyone was excited but Void.

Void had made slight amends with Dream but after finding out that his own brother was the one who asked for the dream lords hand in marriage he couldn’t help but grow a little furious, expecting the opposite from the two. He would be happy for his brothers love life if it wasn’t dream of the endless who was apart of it, anyone but him. Void never had the likes for Dream and for him to swoop in and take his brothers innocence was something he couldn’t allow.

He watched as his sisters cheered happily in the human realm, the three were enjoying their time together at the park where Gaia was mending some new changes and wished to show them, then they received the news about his brothers engagement, love is the first to turn to him as he leaned against a tree with arms crossed and a brooding look on his face while she smiles widely. “Aren’t you happy for Sunny? He’s finally found someone he loves!” She approached void, taking notice of his dark aura that surrounded him. Her own smile slowly fades away into a scowl. “Can’t you be happy for your brother?”

“I’m leaping with joy.” Void slumps down on the grass, crossing his leg over the other while laying his head back against the trunk as he enjoys the sun shining down on him, pulling out some sunglasses from his coat pocket and slipping them on, ignoring his sisters eye roll. “Void—“

“Love, my sister. Whatever business my brother has it’s all his. Don’t get me involved.”

Love has her hands on her hips, giving him a disapproved look as she shakes her head and says. “Sunny will be upset.”

Void tilts his head to the side a little, glancing at her and smirking. “Sure he will.” He turns back to focus on the sky while Gaia watched form a distance, not wanting to get involved with her siblings argument, knowing how bad it can turn out. Love turns back to join her other sister, the two leaving void behind while the ruler of chaos and darkness frowns deeply at the thought of his little brother being engaged to Dream.

—

Y/n didn’t expect himself to be visiting hell after centuries of not seeing his fallen angel. The last time he met up with Lucifer was during his first time spreading happiness and starting off with his duties. The first person he’s ever given happiness too was none other than Lucifer Morningstar, an angel banished from silver city and Y/n was their to offer the fallen angel a hand. Helping them back up to their feet and providing him a small smile of empathy.

Since he was the first to ever grow close with Lucifer he didn’t think that the fallen angel would still welcome him into their realm after years of no communication between the two. Throughout the years he’s heard rumors from demons and creatures that lurked the dark world that Morningstar had a short temper and wouldn’t hesitate to give anyone hell. He expect himself to go through the same thing for not taking to them for years but Lucifer never came after him or sent any of his demons after him.

It seemed that the fallen angel had stuck to their promise of not causing any trouble amongst the god of happiness without given a reason too. Now, he’s afraid that he’s giving the ruler a reason to come after him and perhaps torture him in many ways that are considered brutal and traumatic. The god of happiness shakes the doubt away, exhaling deep sigh before walking up the steps, entering Lucifer’s throne room as he watched him in awe as his fallen angel stands over their realm, watching the demons below as they chant their name.

Y/n’s steps are light but Lucifer can still sense him entering his throne room. The rulers wings flutter as they turn around, grin on their lips and dark eyes landing on the god. “Welcome, God of Happiness.” Their voice is smooth and charismatic, full of persuasion. “Your, Majesty.” He gives the ruler of Hell a small bow, his chin dipping down in greeting before lifting his head up high. The two stare each other down, the tension grows between them until Y/n ks the first to break it.

His face breaks out into a wide smile as he skips forward, hands behind his back as he stood only a few feet away from his fallen angel. “How are you today, Lucy?” His own voice is full of joy and wonder, causing the ruler to soften a little but still hiding it from anyone’s sight. No one could know that the ruler of hell had grown soft towards the god of happiness, their one and only true companion. Lucifer’s grin softens into a real, rare smile towards the other. “Y/n, I am doing well. Hell provides me a lot of work but it is my job and duty to fulfill them.” They respond back, their eyes looking at the god up and down, taking notice of the flower crown upon their head, made of real gold and silver a perfect fitting for the god.

“I see you’ve changed—how long has it been? Three hundred? Perhaps six hundred years?” They raise a brow as Y/n chuckles. “Around six hundred.” He clarifies. It’s been much longer since they’ve last met, he could’ve visited more often but the two had their own duties to accomplish.

“And I see that you’ve changed your appearance?” Lucifer quirks a brow, reaching up to graze their index around their crown upon their head, humming to themselves. “A god like you never wears such things, why now?” Their curiosity grows on them, wings spreading as they stand next to the god, using one wing to pull then closer and guiding them away from the throne room and through another set of doors that lead them to a much more open and private area.

Y/n follows close, next to Lucifer’s side as he sighs to himself, nervously fiddling with fingers. “I guess time does change someone.” He mumbled, keeping his eyes ahead as they continued to move forward. “Time does change someone but this is the first I’ve ever seen you change, Sunny.” Lucifer uses his other names to get his attention.

Y/n looks up to lock eyes with Lucifer, the fallen angel looking deep into his heart and soul as if he could read him like the back of their hand. It only takes a few seconds before the ruler finally gets it, finally knowing why he is here. “Something happened.” They blurts out. The two reaching a much large room, a table in the middle with demon servants setting up the table for the two and preparing their meals. Y/n swallows nervously as he makes his way to his usual spot, sitting on one end of the table while Lucifer takes the other end. The two sit down at the same time as stare at each other from a distance.

“I came to visit, not only as a social call, but as a friend.” Y/n starts, crossing his arms over the table and giving his angel a smile. “I’ve been wandering the human realm for years and doing my own duties alongside with my siblings, during my own journey and adventures I’ve encountered many new people, new traditions—!” He says with excitement. “During my time in the human realm I met someone who respected me and appreciated my gift. I guess you could say that I’ve fallen for them.”

Their dinner arrives, trays set in front of them as Lucifer clears their throat. Slim fingers taking the silverware, looking up with a faint smile. “At least your journey through the human realm is full of adventures.” They says, looking down at their own meal, cutting into the meat in front of them.

Y/n stares down at his own meal full of fruits and sweets. His first few times in hell he couldn’t quiet stomach the meat or the smell of rotten flesh, he didn’t want to offend Lucifer but the angel took notice of his disgust and ordered to have his meal removed and to be provided something to his liking. Ever since he started visiting, Lucifer always knew what to serve him and what was to his liking. The god takes a bite of his favorite meal, licking his lips as he says. “I am engaged.”

Lucifer nonchalantly takes a bite from their own meal, eyes lifting from their tray and to land on Y/n. “I know.”

“Oh.” Y/n taps his finger against his plate, cutting up some fruit and giving Lucifer another glance before adding. “Then you must know that I am to be Lord Morpheus Consort.”

This causes Lucifer to freeze, eyes slightly wide as they looked up to eye god, trying to find a hint of sarcasm or a hint of lying but he shows no signs. The God is tell the truth, he is to be married with Morpheus, Dream of the Endless, the Endless that Lucifer loathed with a passion and wished to bring Dream to his knees. To have him begging for mercy as he destroyed the dreaming and claiming it as there’s. Now this changed everything, Sunny was the one god he does not wish to hurt and now that he is to wed with Lord Morpheus, he has no choice but to try and make amends with Dream.

“That’s—very surprising news. Who knew that Dream of the Endless could love again after what he did to his first lover.” They grin, focusing back on their meal as Y/n tilts his head to the side. “Do you mean Nada?”

“So, he has told you. Poor soul, banished by their own lover into my realm for thousands of years.” They coo out in shame, frowning a bit as they set their silverware down. “I wouldn’t want you going through the same, what if Lord Morpheus banished you here too? I have rules that I cannot break, Sunny. If you were to be banished to Hell then you will stay here for eternity.” They don’t wish to frighten the god of happiness but a good warning wouldn’t be so bad. He deserved to know the truth of Dreams wrath and what the man was capable.

Y/n frowns. “Morpheus wouldn’t do that. He regrets sending Nada to hell for what happened between the two.” He spits back, defending the one they love. “Yes, he’s made some terrible choices that he regrets not just with Nada but with Calliope too. But, don’t you forget Lucifer. Not everyone is perfect, I’ve done my own far share of mistakes.” His voice grows dark, glaring at lucifer as he takes their words by heart, knowing the consequences but refusing to believe that Morpheus’ mistake would be repeated again.

“Mother and father didn’t like the idea of Happiness and Evil becoming friends let alone lovers.” Y/n points out to Lucifer, hitting a sore spot at the fallen angel. It was Y/n who rescued Lucifer during their downfall, offered them a hand and a smile that brought such hope in lucifer for the first time in eons. Y/n would risk his duties to meet with lucifer everyday, asking about their day and rambling on about their own duties. The god was happy around the fallen angel that it was him who fell in love with such dangerous beauty.

Lucifer, too, had fallen for the peace that he brought into his realm. But, the two knew that what they felt is something they could never have with each other. It was forbidden for the two and instead remained close friends who still reminded each other that they were their for anything.

Y/n had set his own silverware down, pushing his chair out and coming to a stand. He held his head up high as he sighs. “I wish to see you at the wedding but we both know that you are welcome into the dreaming or human realm. My only wish is that we remain friends after everything.” His voice quivers, afraid of losing what the two had after eons of being with each other.

Lucifer closes their eyes, inhaling softly as they speak. “Your wish is something sacred and important to me too. This marriage won’t ruin anything.” They reassure the god who gives them a faint sad smile, one that shows true meaning of their relationship.

Y/n knows that It’s time for his leave, giving Lucifer one last bow and goodbye before leaving Hell and returning back to the dreaming. He had promised Morpheus that he would visiting an old friend of his, still not brave enough to tell Morpheus about his past relations with the Ruler of Hell. His walk back to the palace is full of peace and silence, enjoying his own time before he enters the chaos of the other dreamers.

Matthew standing below Morpheus as he and Lucienne converse. “—my siblings are to not cause any disturbances.”

“Geez boss, can’t even invite your own family?” Said Matthew.

“Perhaps Death is acceptable but regarding the rest—I have a feeling that they will complicate things a bit and still need to come to terms that a new member is to join the family.” Morpheus clarified as Lucienne sighs. “Sir, it’s best to speak with your sister for further advice on this change.”

“You are right, Lucienne. Please send word to my sister and that I wish to speak with her.” He orders his librarian as she gives him a low bow before leaving the throne room. The Dream Lord was focused on his own thoughts that he doesn’t feel Y/n entering his chambers. It isn’t until Matthew caws at the new presences. “Look who’s back! How’d it go with your old friend, they coming to the wedding?” The raven flies onto his shoulder as Y/n smiles.

“I did speak with them and unfortunately, they won’t be able to make it.”

Y/n’s voice grows small and full of sadness. “But, it’s alright. They wish me luck and I’ve convinced them to give me a great gift.” His smile is back on his face, lightening up the mood a little.

“Bummer, maybe we can invite your siblings?”

“Love is already on the list along with Gaia, it’s only my brother who doesn’t wish to come.” He pouts. His brother void was always a stubborn child and loathed anything that included celebrations. He was never one for such big occasions, he wasn’t even there during his birth and his own parents had to drag him back home to at least see their little brother, which void later terrorized in the future. The two brothers always finding ways to fight and argue with each other.

“Perhaps their is a way to convince him.” Morpheus steps into their conversation as Y/n shrugs his shoulders. “Void is complicated to reach an agreement with.” Morpheus, hums to himself, hands behind his own back as he listens. “Will find a way to persuade your brother.”

“Just how will invite your own siblings too?” The god slips in, giving Morpheus a big smile but the Endless can only frown. His relationship with his siblings wasn’t too great and had a hard time dealing with them, including Desire and Despair, the rest he could handle well. “Will have to wait and see.” Y/n leans up to press a soft kiss to his pale cheek. “This doesn’t have to be something big, a simple ceremony and vows is good enough for me.” He reminds his lover.

Morpheus gives a rare smile. He’s held different weddings with his previous lovers and they were all simple too, but for Y/n he wanted things to be special for the god of happiness and wanted to reach his deepest desires and bring the light. “As you wish, my love.” Morpheus leans down to press their foreheads together, enjoying their small intimate moment before breaking apart.

“I have to continue my duties in the waking world, I’ll be back later tonight.” Y/n tells Morpheus, stealing another kiss from the Endless who smiles again, his fingers pushing back some of Y/n’s hair that covered his eyes. “Be safe, I’ll await in the dreaming for your return.”

Y/n gives Morpheus one last smile, helping Matthew down his shoulder as the raven flaps down onto the floor, staring up at the god as the two watch Y/n leave the palace. “Do you wish for me to follow?” Matthew chirps in.

“No.” Morpheus glanced down to Matthew. “His duties are to be done on his own, just how you are to remain by my side.” He reminds Matthews true duties as they allowed the god of happiness to resume with his daily tasks.

—

Y/n enters the human realm, arriving in the same location that he is to meet the rest of his siblings. The four of them usually meet near the country side where the four can speak freely and expose their own power without anyone noticing. He approaches the large tree that stood in the middle of the clearing, noticing his older brother sitting against it along with Love and Gaia scolding him.

“—he won’t be happy.”

“Who won’t be happy?”

His two sisters gasp in surprise as they turn around to see Y/n while void rolls his eyes underneath his sunglasses. “Nothing.” He gives him a large fake smile.

“Of course it’s something,” love shot back. “Void isn’t too happy about your engagement.”

Y/n sighs. “I figured—void why do you hate Morpheus so much?”

“Excuse me?” Void comes to a stand, dusting the dead grass off his dark clothing. “I don’t hate him Y/n,” he laughs out. “I loath him.” His face falls blank again, hands on his hips as Sunny rolls his eyes again. “Whether you like it or not this engagement is happening and you’ll have to get along with him.”

“Why?” His voice is childish.

“Why—? Because, I want you two to get along.” Y/n groans out.

Void hums to himself, looking anywhere but at Y/n. “Why marry an Endless? You and Lucifer seemed to have a better relationship then with the dream lord.”

“Void—“ Loves voice is quiet and stern, giving him a glare as she shakes her head. “That’s enough.”

“Does he even know?” Void challenged l, stepping forward as Y/n coward a little. His hesitation giving Void a clear confirmation as he smirks. “He doesn’t know,” he gasps. “And here I thought that relationships never held secrets, how would he react if he found out about your past relationship with the ruler of hell?”

“Void.” Love says again, but void ignored her. “Do you think he’d still stay by your side when he finds out that you shared the same love to a ruler that he himself hates, wouldn’t it be a shame if he knew that you were their bed warmer.” He whispers out, causing a reaction from Y/n as he shoved void back, glaring at his brother.

“No matter my past or his it’ll never stop the feeling that we have for each other.” He shot back. “But, you still love Lucifer.” Void shot back.

“Of course I do!” Y/n confessed. “But that doesn’t mean that I will take up then back after everything. Morpheus still loves Nada and Calliope but his love for them won’t change the way he loves me! Whether you like it or not void this engagement is happening and I cannot let you take this away from me! You always ruined everything that I had, took from me, stole from me! For once in my life let me be happy, let me find my own happiness without you getting in the way and causing chaos.” He shouts, letting out his anger to his own brother his other half as he steps forward to jab his finger against his chest over and over again.

“If you hate my happiness so badly then why don’t you take it away?! Just how you plague the darkness and loneliness in humans—“ he continued to jab on his words causing voids blood to boil.

“Y/n that’s enough, please.” His sisters plead but he continues to push.

“You will always cause grief and pain into everyone’s life because it’s who you are, you are the darkness in the souls of humans who wish to find that slight bit of happiness that only I can provide. Without me you are nothing, without us we are nothing, if I was never born. Mother and father would have never of let you free!”

Void snaps, growling in anger as he grips Y/n by the hem of his shirt, pulling him forward as he slams his fist against his face, stumbling back as the two sisters gasp in shock and froze in spot.

“I don’t need you to get my freedom.” Void hissed out, stepping up to pull Y/n up again, the god bellow him glaring in return. “Mother and father didn’t need another child to free me, they only took pity on a lonely star with no home.” Y/n’s glare softens, eyes glistening with tears as void shoved him to the ground. “I wouldn’t be surprised if Dream took pity on you. Perhaps your bewitchment of happiness got to the endless, tricking him into loving you.”

“That’s not true—“

“Please, brother mine, you’ll never find the happiness you deserve.” He gives him a pity laughter, his brothers worry and faded joy brings him wondrous feelings. “Never forget brother, your merely a child. This dream of yours will soon disappear.” Void reminds him, stepping back to cast his siblings one last look before disappearing.

——————————————————————————

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