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y-creblogs · 1 year

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MY HEART IS ACHING JUST WAY TOO GOOD 😭😭

Imagine being the one who releases Morpheus. - ENDING

[Part 1] [Part 2] [Part 3] [Part 4] [Part 5] [Part 6] [Part 7] [ALT. ENDING] || Sandman-inspired playlist

[...] Among those lights, I saw eternity Hidden somewhere in unknown chasms Although gods hid it so well It was here, sitting in front of me In that eternity I saw myself Among family photographs Preserved in every whispered word Or a poem left in the drawer When a black cortege follows me I will live on in their stories Still generous in my words: There is no end

Never once did you consider that living would be so physically difficult so early. You weren't even halfway through your life and breathing was becoming a hardship as well as walking or carrying things. All of that came as a consequence of your choice - a choice which morality you never disputed, although on odd occasions you did fantasize about the could-haves. At the time, the unfair exchange, your life instead of his, seemed so obvious as though it was unacceptable for you to even consider a different course of action. But now, when your days were counted, a certain melancholic reflection haunted your thoughts: what must happen to a person to be willing to give their life up so easily? Maybe there was a hidden truth in your sacrifice, something you never quite realized or admitted to yourself. Those thoughts, however, were in vain now just like a prisoner is better off not dreaming about the cotton-like clouds lazily drifting across the blue sky, pushed in their direction by a soft blow of the first warm wind sometime in June.

"Our time is coming to an end, dear Morpheus," you said quietly as you inspected the black web sprawling across your skin. In some macabre way, it looked fascinating and beautiful the same way fresh blood wonderfully glistens on marble floors. "The curse is eating my body away."

"Such knowledge is not yours to possess," his tone sounded as if he was warning you. "Only Death knows that."

It wasn't true, not necessarily. A sudden change in your behaviour did not escape Morpheus's attention such as the fact that you had to take a break every few steps and lean against something. Despite that, having irrefutable proof of your words right before his eyes, Morpheus opted to remain oblivious. He voluntarily chose this blindness.

"True, I do not know my fate for sure. Call it a gut feeling, if you will. Mine is calling unto eternity."

In some bitter way, it was all very funny: a mortal was approaching unending aeons and one of the Endless was running out of time.

For a while, he stood silently watching you. His lips were slightly pursed but you couldn't quite decipher what emotions stood behind such an expression. Morpheus's unreadable face was complemented with those steel blue eyes that seemed to stare intensely through you as if by looking in your direction he could see something else, something only irises as arcane as his could perceive.

"May I ask one more thing of you, dear Morpheus?"

"Of course."

"Wait with me, down by the sea. I'd hate to go in loneliness."

What a magnificent creature you must be! To effortlessly make an immortal god patiently wait for death.

The sky in the east was already bright. Above the distant horizon, where endless waters crashed on the shores of fantasy and wonder, a bright hue appeared. Slowly, it became a mirage of beautifully warm colours. The Sun, as glorious as it was awaited, slowly crawled out of the cold sea to once again begin its tireless journey across the firmament. Not even cotton-like clouds had the courage to hide this mundane miracle.

The thick material of his coat was slightly coarse against your cold cheek but it was pleasantly warm all the same. His shoulders slightly raised and fell with each of his breaths. Morpheus's head was hesitantly resting against yours and this anxious intimacy made you fearful to move even the smallest of muscles; his longing was always silent but never invisible. Perhaps, as befits a dream, his heartache was fleeting, disappearing in the very moment someone dares to entertain a different thought.

A content sigh left your mouth. "Look at her, the Sun!" you exclaimed happily. "She rises each morning to warm Earth and never asks for anything in return. She lets us live in such a beautiful world and yet, never says 'you owe me.'"

The white sand quietly rustled as someone slowly walked behind the two of you. Over the loud crashing of the waves, the stroll was hardly audible. After a few steps, the stranger stopped like they were waiting for one of you to finally acknowledge them. Dream decided to be the first to break the tense silence:

"Must you always be on time, sister?" he asked without looking over his shoulder. Maybe, just maybe, Morpheus was wrong and it wasn't your hour yet. Unfortunately, the stranger didn't deny the name he gave them. "Couldn't you be late this one day?"

"I am only fulfilling my duty," she answered.

"People spend their entire lives wondering where Death will lead them, you know?" Although your words were directed at Morpheus, your stare remained focused on the faraway horizon. "Hell, Heaven, Sheol... I never did," you said with a slight shrug of shoulders. "Perhaps, I like surprises a little too much."

"Wherever my sister leads you, it is somewhere I can not follow." Perhaps, in one of his deeply hidden and never admitted fantasies, it was enough to stop you from embarking on your last voyage.

"You are a king, dear Morpheus. You do not follow," you reminded him. His cold, blue eyes were bloodshot. With all the strength he could muster, Morpheus prevented those sinful, bitter tears from falling - yet. Feeling your heart break for him, your hands gently cradled his face. "Love, don’t cry. We were always headed this way. What story doesn't have a super fin?"

Dream took in a sharp inhale naively thinking it was enough to stop his heart from being torn in half at hearing you call him by the most beautiful of names. "Yours is much too early," he quietly said in a shaky voice. Perhaps if he spoke even slightly louder, calloused evil that hid beyond this realm would also hear it. But instead of raising its monstrous hand against him, it would surely weep too.

"I could live a thousand years in this world and it still wouldn't be enough, there is still so much to see, so much to love. But I shan't grieve the years I wasn't given. Instead, I'll always cherish those few I did have."

Morpheus clenched his jaw in a futile attempt to prevent his lips from trembling. His eyebrows suddenly furrowed and cheeks raised. "What am I to do with the emptiness you're leaving me with?" he asked angrily.

"Emptiness?" you repeated. A dry, sad chuckle left your lips as you stared into his red eyes. "One day, flowers shall grow out of my rotting corpse and those flowers will end up in an ornate vase on someone's windowsill to be cherished and admired. My dear Morpheus, there is no end."

His lips parted slightly as if he was about to say something, defy your poetic wisdom with his pragmatism but he didn't. He simply couldn't. Instead of words, Morpheus shared a tear that you tirelessly wiped away from his face.

"There's still so much I've yet to tell you," you quietly confessed.

"Then tell me now," he demanded. One of his hands gently grabbed your wrist as if he feared your touch might leave his face at any moment and he wasn't yet ready for such a loss. After all, only recently did he realize how his heart bloomed whenever he felt you. "I'm here, I'm listening."

"Oh, my lovely Morpheus..." you whispered with laughter in your voice. A tear dropped from your eye as you brushed your thumb against his cold cheek. Your swollen, trembling lips were still curved into a smile as if there was anything happy about your premature parting. "Among all the centuries and billions of lives, we met each other. I'd like to think it wasn't accidental, that maybe, for a moment, we were divine."

"There is nothing holy about our parting."

Morpheus recalled Yasmin's words: 'God looks after his angels and so should you.' But he never was a god - sacredness did not weave his bones like it did with yours. Whatever divinity might have resided in him was never once his. No, it came from your cup, a chalice out of which he drank a little too greedily for a creature of his kind. That halo around his head was once your crown.

"It's time for us to go," Death stated. Her tone was firm but never cold.

You slipped out of his longing touch and made your way towards the woman standing not too far behind you and Dream. As if frozen in time, Morpheus remained completely still. He did not have the courage to look at his sister who, surely, graced him with a sympathetic gaze. Whatever he could tell her, whatever pathetic and completely pointless begging he could commit, it wasn't anything she hadn't already seen or heard.

Suddenly, a meowing resounded over the pleasantly rhythmic crashing of waves - the very same meowing you heard from the living room of your house. Turning around to look at the unexpected guest, you were met with a sight most strange and welcome: an orange cat that was missing one of its front paws. Its greenish-yellow eyes reminded you of sun-dried long grass growing on a meadow hidden among a pine forest.

"Hugo!" you exclaimed. Unable to stop yourself from reaching for the missed pet, you crouched the moment you saw his red fur. "I never thought I'd see you again, you little fiery menace! I was barely six when we bid our farewells."

The feline only meowed again and bumped its small head against your leg. Curiously, he didn't leave paw prints on the white, cold sand. Too busy at the exciting reunion, you never noticed Death's slightly furrowed eyebrows as she stared at the cat. What was it doing there?

Scratching Hugo's chin and head, you noticed something strange about his pendant: it didn't read 'Hugo' anymore, although you knew it did the day he passed away. Instead of his name gracing the small metal plate, there were tally marks - seven, to be exact. You could only wonder what kind of trouble that fearless, silly friend had gotten into since the last time you saw him.

Not pondering the question of the appearing cat any longer, Death lead you in the direction of a destination only she knew of. Hugo, however, did not follow you right away. He sat on the cold concrete of the nearby boulevard, watching Dream's back. After a while, the feline let out a questioning purring-like sound, perhaps in confusion at the man's unwillingness to move from his spot. Hugo meowed again but never managed to catch the Dream King's attention. In a somewhat defeated manner, the cat got up and trotted in the direction of wherever Death was walking you.

Morpheus listened to you walk away with Death, never daring to look at you this one last time. Then, when silence fell on the world, it was unbearably loud. It was in the rustling of sand, in the crashing of waves and calling of seagulls: Mother Nature was mocking his yearning, a temporary whim that could not measure to her timeless might. In the distance, he saw a raft of mallards that seemed to quack at him.

"You, too, have been abandoned," he said to them, although never really expected the birds to understand such devastating words. Lucky them.

The blue sky grew black and Sun drowned in the endless seas before Morpheus got up from the sand. In a truly miserable fashion, he promised himself to never discard his grief. As long as he held onto that misery of your passing, placed you like a thorny crown on his head, you couldn't be gone, not entirely. In all of his selfishness, he wanted to curse you to never rest in peace but forever haunt him instead. Aren't rubble and ruin happier with a ghost that wanders their has-been halls, a companion to sweeten their decay? As a wraith of all the passion he never got to reveal, Morpheus would be able to love you as long he wished as though you were a wilted flower whose owner doesn't have the heart to throw out just yet. Perhaps you were akin to a dried sunflower that loomed over the window of his soul, always reminding all of creation that a life that is missed is a life that was loved and a heart that breaks is a heart that was once whole.

Morpheus had gone somewhere without a word and so Lucienne began her day in a frantic search for the lord of the realm. On top of his not-so-recent captivity, he'd been acting strange ever since he returned with the ruby and the pouch. The King of Dreaming would walk around the palace in a somewhat moping, round-shouldered manner, wandering like a phantom that couldn't find a place to haunt. Refusing to say more than a handful of words at the time, Lucienne and Jessamy could only suspect that a true calamity had fallen on their lord and friend. Morpheus, however, had a strange and entirely frustrating inclination for keeping his cards to himself.

At last, they did find him. Jessamy's black wings scoured lands near and far from the palace, only to find Dream King at work - contemplating his solitude as he busied himself with building new Dreams or Nightmares. Such news elicited a heavy sigh of relief from Lucienne, who dreaded seeing Dreaming fall into ruin once more. Still, her annoyance prevailed as she pondered how difficult it was for the King to speak about his plans and prevent the recent tensions from coming back to their original severity. Aside from that, there were still many matters the Lord of Dreaming should tend to, although probably none of them was as important as his current occupation.

Wasting no time, Lucienne and Jessamy paid a visit to working Morpheus. Despite several humanoid forms rising from the sands underneath their feet, Dream seemed to be focused on only one of them: one that appeared suspiciously not strange. The longer Lucienne stared at the oddly familiar face, the more she grew convinced that she did, in fact, know its owner - even if her entire knowledge was taken from Dream's account of his escape. "Isn't that...?"

"Yes, Lucienne," he interjected. Some part of Morpheus feared that she might just say your name out loud and he couldn't be sure what madness would take hold of him then. It was a beast best left unpoked. "They deserved to live many more years. The world deserved it. In fact, I think the world desperately needed it. Now they can live out the years stolen from them as something too human for me to understand yet: the dream of loving and being loved. Greek agape, if you will."

"Forgive me, my lord, but if you never quite understood it, how can you recreate it?"

Morpheus's blank stare was focused on your face. Like all the great painters and sculptors of humanity, he, too, chiselled his love into a masterpiece of artistry. How deranged such action truly was: to recreate his heart's greatest desire and claim for it to be something every person wished to have. "The sun never says," he whispered to himself but taking into account the hardly existing distance between him and his artwork, he could have been whispering those words to the monument of you.

"My lord?"

He turned towards Lucienne again. "The sun warms the earth and yet it never says 'you owe me'. Tenderness, they used to call it."

How tragic his affection truly was: he was but a moon in love with the sun. They were destined to live apart and yet he would be dim without the light she had so freely given him, never asking for anything in return. And just like with those beautiful celestial bodies, all the stars in the sky - each light of past, present and future - sighed in relief at your meeting.

Morpheus stared at his work in silence. It wasn't finished yet. In fact, it was far from being finished but he had already spent so much time perfecting the smallest of details, he had to remind himself of other duties he still had to tend to. Unlike the real you, his newly made Dream will wait for him until the edges of eternity. Although Lucienne did not gain any more understanding from his vague answer to his question, Morpheus's response was more than exhausting for someone who had experienced your gentle soul.

To his displeasure, there were other matters he had to take care of as the king of this wonderful realm. Seeing your nearly finished effigy, a new vigour entered his tired bones as if the sole sight of your features could remake him into a different creature. Suddenly, in the golden stardust you put into his veins, there was something holy about your parting: the moon, after all, shines not with his own light but the sun's. "Come, Lucienne, there is much we are yet to do. The world is spinning and we mustn't only stand on it."

But neither Lucienne nor Jessamy followed him immediately. Instead, they exchanged equally suspicious and confused looks. Their lord's behaviour was only becoming stranger and neither of them could point out exactly why, although they did have their, mostly correct, theories.

"Is he... being optimistic?" Jessamy asked. Putting 'Morpheus' and 'optimism' in one sentence seemed impossible unless someone wanted to accentuate his moping.

"I'm afraid so," Lucienne slowly answered as she watched Morpheus walk away into the distance.

After another moment of silence, Lucienne let out a light sigh and marched after Morpheus. Jessamy wanted to follow, take flight to reach the king in no time, but an unforeseen event prohibited her from doing so; the raven shrieked as an orange cat playfully tugged at her tail with its sharp teeth.

I'd like to thank everyone who supported this little series - your love was a monumental motivation! I'm really content with how this chapter/part turned out (I bawled my eyes out writing this bye). Perhaps, the ending was not what you expected but perhaps I can write an alternative one...?

Tagging people who were interested in a follow-up: @rosaren2498 @jessiboobdbdb @chantzmar @lexi-anastasia @bisexualunicronrunningloose @farintonorth @oo0lady-mad0oo@all-bi-myselfs-blog @piperstofu101 @magic-magnoliaa @kotonei-molyneux @wheresmyboo @supermegapauselouca @sloanexx @rockergirl57 @aizawa-emma @ruyi-years @commanderfreethatdust @sapphireonline @izzicle@mxxny-lupin @shadowluna25

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y-creblogs · 1 year

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this is so far one of the best things I've read on here, i wont stop thinking about it for DAYS, i don't want it to end 😭

Imagine being the one who releases Morpheus. - Part 6

[Part 1] [Part 2] [Part 3] [Part 4] [Part 5] [Part 7] [ENDING] [ALT. ENDING] | Sandman-inspired playlist

The day was only becoming more bizarre as knocking on your front door resounded throughout the house. Simultaneously, Morpheus and you looked at each other as if trying to ask the other person if they, too, felt danger lurking. Then, you looked towards the front door you could slightly see from the living room as if staring intensely at the dark wood would make it possible for you to see through it.

"I wasn't expecting anyone," you spoke up quietly as if it wasn't already obvious by your anxious attitude. "Truthfully, I was hardly expecting you."

The knocking repeated but this time it sounded more impatient. Hesitantly, you stood up from the sofa and walked towards a window close to the entrance. Pushing your cheek against the cold glass, you could see a strangely familiar silhouette at your door: short, chubby, dark skin covered in dingy clothing. There was only one person who fit that description and who would want to see you.

Almost tripping over your own feet and the old carpet in the hall, you run to unlock the door and let the guest in as quickly as possible. It was rude to let any guest wait too long but this one particular visitor deserved all the respect you were capable of giving them.

The door swung open and you swore your heart grew in size upon seeing that round, slightly wrinkly face. The kindness you learned to recognize as motherly love was still beaming from those tired eyes. Looking at them, you noticed that the left eye was bruised. A few strands of coily brown hair slipped from the white bonnet. She looked much older than she really was but singlehandedly raising three children that weren't her own could do that to a woman.

"Yasmin, what are you doing here? Are you alright? Come inside, you're just in time for tea."

"I can not stay long, my dear," she answered. Despite her statement, she followed you into the house. "Your father, he's... forgive me for speaking ill about him but I'm afraid 'mad' doesn't describe his state anymore."

"Did something happen at the mansion? What of Alex, Yasmin? Is he alright?"

"Younker Alex is fine, dearie," she assured you as she was taking her gloves off. Yasmin had a habit of speaking in a slow, mild way despite neither you nor Alex not being toddlers anymore. "At least as long as he doesn't defy your father. He's a bright boy but still afraid like a child. A lot has changed since you left. Master Rodrick became all the more desperate to save his health and life. But his anger... my dear child, I have never seen a man so full of rage! I'm telling you, some demon took a hold of your father's soul. I and a few other workers decided something needs to be done. I came here to give you this."

Frantically, Yasmin began looking for something in her coat pockets. Finally, she pulled out a small, lightweight bag made of dark material. It could be leather, actually. The textile seemed to be worn out as if the pouch had been used many times or it was ancient. Only then, seeing the enigmatic dark bag, did Morpheus show any kind of interest in the guest and your relationship with her. He made his way to you and Yasmin in quick strides, only to snatch his belongings from her hand. Judging by her face, she was unpleasantly surprised by his rude action but you had other things in mind that lecturing an actual king on netiquette. Alright, the pouch did belong to him but it didn't mean he had to behave like an emaciated weasel.

"How on Earth did you get this?" you asked.

"It wasn't my sole effort, do not flatter me in such a way." Yasmin tried her best to focus on you while answering but it was obvious that Morpheus himself interested her. Up until now, she only heard about the god-like creature kept in the mansion's basement. "Master Rodrick was planning to sell this pouch at a secret auction. In a small group of housekeeps, we managed to swap it for a fake. It has gone unnoticed, so far."

"Yasmin!" You couldn't believe that the softspoken and sympathetic woman who raised you became a sort of a criminal mastermind. Yes, desperate times had fallen on anyone who was in any way related to Rodrick Burgess. "What if my father finds out?"

"Do not worry about me, dearie," she said with a dismissive wave. "I'm old and I have lived a wonderful life. I accept whatever fate the Lord has planned for me. It is up to you, youngsters, to make sure this blasphemous madness does not continue. I came to you because I thought that Master Rodrick was unlikely to look for it here. If I may be honest, dear child, he wishes not to see you ever again. Shortly after you left, he began to keep a loaded rifle next to his bed! He never spoke of a reason for such a drastic decision but we figured it out ourselves."

"What about my letters?" you coaxed her. Morpheus was still dwelling on the mention of a firearm but it seemed as though it wasn't important to you, at least at the moment. His hand clenched tightly around the sand pouch but he was hardly aware of that. "Yasmin, tell me, what happened to the letters I had sent to Alex? I never got any response."

Yasmin furrowed her eyebrows. She stared into the distance for a moment, her vision somehow both blank and intense. Then like a symptom of enlightenment, she raised her eyebrows and looked back at you. Her stare wasn't blank anymore - it was sad. "I saw once master Rodrick throwing correspondence into the fireplace. I'm sorry dearie, I'm afraid your brother knows nothing about it."

A dreadful emptiness wove a nest in your mind. There was only one thought of utmost terror echoing in your head: He knows nothing. All those years... Alex never once was told that you think about him. That you continue to care. Did he feel abandoned? Was his young heart broken in too many ways to ever be fixed? And what of his spirit? If you met him now, would you even recognize the man he was forced to become?

"I musn't linger, dearie." Yasmin placed her old hand on your shoulder bringing you back to the present moment. She used to do that whenever one of the kids was leaving the house. "I can not risk Rodrick finding out where you are. Farewell, my dear child. I will always love you like my own. And you," she turned to Morpheus who appeared surprised at his sudden involvement in the conversation, "keep an eye on her, will you? God looks after his angels and so should you."

Only when Yasmin disappeared behind the now-closed door did the weight of her words fully strike your heart. You hid your face in your hands as you felt gut-wrenching sadness beginning to shake your body. "Dear God, little Alex! He must think I have abandoned him. And father... I'm afraid to wonder what wickedness he had bestowed upon my brother."

Upon hearing you sob, Morpheus's hand instinctively raised like it did once before. This time he, too, stopped it from reaching its destination. It was like an itch, a primitive urge that shouldn't exist within a creature of his sort. Clenching and relaxing his jaw repeatedly, battling his indifference and truly regal ego, he forced his palm to gently lay against the fabric of your clothes, between your shoulder blades. His breath hitched in his throat as if Morpheus himself was surprised that he was, in fact, capable of genuine intimacy.

Unable to keep your misery in check, you leaned into Dream's chest and sobbed against his dark coat. His hand, once shyly resting between your shoulder blades, moved to encircle your shoulders, keeping you closer than one might have expected him to want. The outside world may have continued to spin despite your desperation but it felt like your reality had collapsed in on itself. There was something comforting in the strict seriousness he wore all the time as if it was a reminder that something aside from your anguish existed. Or, perhaps, it was an unbearably lonely experience - that you were the only one in the entire world feeling something so insufferable, that there was no one to cry with you. What a terrifying thought it was: heartache unseen, without a person to acknowledge its existence, only grew in severity, slowly eating away at the wretch.

Taking in a deep, shaky breath you leaned away from Morpheus. He looked at you in his usual stern way, making it even harder to speak your mind even in times of dire need. Strangely enough, his arm remained around you but you didn't pay it much attention at the moment.

"Morpheus, perhaps I am in no position to be asking this, you are an Endless being, a king, after all. But if you find some altruism inside you, could I ask for your help in aiding my brother? My heart breaks for the suffering he had to endure."

"Am I not indebted to you?"

You looked at him with a confused grimace. "No, my dear, you are not and you never have been. If your kindness is repayment, I do not want it."

"What would you have me do?" he asked right away. Truthfully, you were too shaken up to think reasonably. Your head was filled with horrifying scenarios of Alex's fate that you never knew of. And how it broke your heart to think how lonely his misery was, how abandoned he must have felt after all those years without hearing from you. Morpheus took a few steps towards you and leaned close to your face - perhaps a little too close for people who were not married. "Watch your words," he whispered in a shaky voice. You saw his Addam's apple move as he swallowed before continuing. "If you ask me to kill Rodrick, I will."

In all of its macabre, it was a confession of endearment. Hate, perhaps, was a love unspoken, unlived; love that, never having seen the light of day, rotted, not recognizing its decayed-out face anymore. Contempt is but a scream, a whine of all almost-lovers, who with time forgot why they were crying. Maybe only as hate this unconfessed love can prevail, maybe in any other form, it would be a pleading for death.

Your hand anxiously touched the side of his face and, to your surprise, he did not wince. Morpheus managed to surprise himself even: he leaned into the warmth of your palm. Perhaps the love rotting inside of him was making him tired and complacent. "I know," you whispered. "But you deserve better than to be an executioner's axe. You are better than that, Morpheus. I could never ask you to belittle yourself so much and for such a dishonourable deed."

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y-creblogs · 1 year

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Hello! I saw your requests were open and was wondering if you could write a Morpheus x mortal!reader where he has a crush on her and Idk maybe they’re friends or something and he sees her kissing another guy at a party and gets jeaulous.

Or… maybe a Morpheus x Johanna’s apprentice!reader where they have to go on kind of a mission together to help/save Johanna and they end up falling in love?

Couldn’t choose between the two tbh 😅 Any of them would be fine. If its okay for you, ofc!

🫀REQUESTS ARE OPEN🫀

[TW: religious themes, demons, swear words] Sandman-inspired playlist

"I'm looking for Johanna Constantine," stated the stranger standing at your threshold. He was dressed in all black with pasty white skin that made him look either emaciated or vampire-like. Either way, it was a very uncommon taste but you didn't expect anything else from your boss's acquaintances.

"You and me both, man," you answered as you leaned against the doorframe. "She was supposed to go to some town outside of London, look at a girl and come back. Maybe do an exorcism but she sounded convinced it wouldn't be needed."

"When was that?"

"Like two days ago?" you said with a shrug. Most of the time, Johanna was stuck in a cycle of disappearing and showing up shortly after without even a scratch.

The stranger leaned in. His dark eyebrows furrowed only furthering his intimidating appearance. "And you haven't thought of finding her?" he asked in an unnerved voice.

"Of course I did!" you exclaimed while throwing your hands in the air. The last thing you wanted or needed was a random man suggesting you were irresponsible. "Who do you have me for, raven boy? The only thing stopping me from going after her is herself. Have you ever seen Johanna angry? No? I have and now I don't watch scary movies with my light on because I know there are worse things."

"Where is Johanna?" The man was growing impatient and angry. Whatever he needed her for, it was something that clearly couldn't wait.

The stranger's irritation was, truthfully, an expression of your own worries and desperation - lead-like dread had been sitting in your abdomen for the entire day. Perhaps it was time to brave through your fear of Johanna's anger and show some agency. "She's supposed to be in Dover, like 2 hours from here. I'll grab my keys and we can go."

But Morpheus grabbed the sleeve of your jacket before you could walk away. You were about to scold him, tell him that he's being very forward to a person he had only just met, but suddenly you weren't in your small apartment in London. In the distance, you heard sea waves crashing against cliffs and a flock of seagulls screaming over the shore: undoubtedly, you had found yourself in Dover.

"Come," he called out behind you. Judging by his aloofness, he must have often just reappeared wherever he wanted.

Turning around towards Morpheus, you saw a brick mansion with thick ivy covering its walls. The windows were either too dirty to see through them or the architect was strangely fond of opaque glass. The paint was chipping off the wooden door, silently suggesting that no one had taken care of the house in a long while. A murder of crows seemed to have taken over the mansion - a row of black birds sat along the ledge, staring at the two unwelcome guests. They seemed to grow irritated as their loud caws did not scare you off from their den.

"Creepy old house," you slowly said to yourself as you took in the disturbing sight. "That's definitely on my jeepers-creepers bingo."

"Did Johanna employ you as a jest?" His tendency to speak in a quite monotone voice made it difficult for you to decide whether it was a genuine question or an attempt at being mean.

"I hope not. I tend to have a very limited repertoire of cynicism and self-deprecation."

Suddenly, a muffled scream reached your ears. Among the crashing waves and seagulls it would have been impossible to hear it had you been standing even a few meters farther from the house. The crows also contributed to the general disruption. Wickedness, quite curiously, came with a drop of genius.

"Basement. Of course," you said in a low voice while slightly nodding to yourself. "Let's go."

Entering the cellar, your nostrils were instantaneously filled with the putrid smell of mould and rotting blood. The floor was covered in something wet and you were suddenly grateful for the lack of light in the concrete corridors - it was better to naively assume it was just water from faulty, old plumbing. Your heart was thundering in your chest as you followed Morpheus and his strides towards the screams and rattling of chains that only grew louder with each of your rushed steps.

With trembling hands, you pushed open the door at the end of the dark corridor. Sure enough, on the other side, you found the source of the blood-chilling screams. Across the concrete room was a man dressed in a cassock, who was speaking in a language you had never heard before. Was he... praying? High above his head levitated Johanna's body with limbs stretched out so much they threatened to completely dismember her at any second. She must have been screaming for hours on end as her voice became raspy. So far, both of them seemed to be unaware of your presence.

"A satanic priest. Because there wasn't anything more cliche," you whispered.

Morpheus was about to take a step towards the possessed man and suffering Johanna but you grabbed his arm. He looked at you with nothing short of annoyance - you were, clearly, treading on thin ice.

"You may be an expert on pulling Houdini-worth tricks but this is my field of expertise. Like it or not, I need you to trust me with your life for the next bit," you spoke quietly. Every now and then you'd look towards the horrifying sight on the other side of the room to make sure that you still had the element of surprise.

Rummaging through the pockets of your jacket, you pulled out two containers and shoved them in Dream's chest. With vivid unsureness, he took them from you. "Holy water and blessed salt," you explained. "Throw it at him or around him. It won't kill the demon but will surely weaken it. I'll do the talking."

Having said those words, Morpheus left your side to march towards the possessed priest. You took in a deep, slow breath to try and calm yourself. As an apprentice, you knew that the day of your trial was coming sooner or later but you never thought that the life of someone you cared about would be part of it. A grim duty fell on you - there was no one else who could help Johanna before she dies from the ritual she was currently undergoing. Whatever happens now, was to forever remain your sole responsibility.

Johanna had made you practise the exorcism prayer so many times you learned it barely a few weeks into your apprenticeship. It was just a strange skill at the time but now, when her life and well-being were in your hands only, it was akin to a superpower. Having taken in another deep breath, you began reciting the formula as fast as you could while maintaining the necessary clarity of speech.

The demon was no longer oblivious to your pesky presence but Morpheus did an excellent job at keeping it distracted enough to not go after you or poor Johanna. Considering how much of the blessed salt and holy water actually ended up on the possessed man, Dream had an exceptional aim. A blood-chilling scream resounded once more but this time it didn't belong to Johanna: it was the demon, crying out at the pain of being torn out of a corporeal form. His agony could partially be accredited to the sole fact that he was going to be banished to Hell, a place even demons feared and disliked.

Once the demon was exiled from this realm, Johanna's body hit the concrete floor of the basement with a muffled thud. Then, a groan left her mouth and you sighed in relief. Even if her bones were shattered, she was alive. Wasting no time, you run towards her to help her get up.

Straining to stand up, Johanna groaned out: "Well, that was really fucking fast."

"Yeah, I had my Eminem phase in middle school," you answered dismissively as you put her arm around your neck for better support.

"What took you so long?"

"I didn't actually think you were in trouble, Johanna. He brought me here because he wants something from you." Only when you motioned your head towards the black-haired man did she notice him. She let out an irritated sigh but it was quiet enough that only you heard it.

After a few limping steps, Johanna was well enough to walk on her own or at least she claimed so. She crossed her arms on her chest as she approached Morpheus, whose expression remained ever so unreadable. Apparently, an exorcism wasn't enough to elicit emotion from him. Johanna gave you a meaningful stare and you knew it was time for you to go and irritate the crows outside with your unwelcome presence.

Long minutes went by when you were staring at the sea and cliffs in the distance, listening to the shrieking and cawing of the black birds over your head. What was taking them so long? Among the noise, you heard someone's footsteps behind you: it was Morpheus but curiously, he came alone.

"Where's Johanna?" you asked.

"There were affairs she needed to see through before leaving," he answered while approaching you. Barely a meter or two away from you, he just stopped. Morpheus simply stood there, the sea breeze tugging at his dishevelled hair. He stared at you with flustering intensity as if he was trying to look through you and inspect the particles of your very soul.

After a while, his silent gawking became so uncomfortable you couldn't ignore it any longer. "Okay, what is it?"

"You are an absolutely aggravating creature," Morpheus stated while still looking at you with that stern, cold stare. His voice was so low, slightly raspy, that you felt it down to the marrow of your bones. "But I can not bring myself to hate you."

A playful smile crept unto your face. Maybe the raven guy wasn't the killjoy he introduced himself as. "Funnily enough, I was about to say the same thing. This whole 'woe me' brooding thing you have going on is infuriating. But it's also giving me very un-churchy thoughts."

Suddenly, something about his expression changed: a glint of mischief glistened in his blue eyes and one corner of his mouth pulled up ever so slightly. "Would you like to hear mine?"

You were about to answer him something equally suggestive when Johanna made her presence known: "Get a fucking room you two!"

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y-creblogs · 1 year

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the ending left me wanting more 😭😭

i know you only uploaded it a few hours ago, but please carry on the reader accidentally summoning morpheus, im dying to know their history, and his feelings on how much time has passed <3 big fan!!

A/N: By popular demand, I'm writing a 2nd part. The quoted poem is something I was obsessed with as a kid. My mom still quotes it.

[Imagine accidentally summoning Morpheus] || [Sandman-inspired playlist]

All of it sounded like a madman's bad joke.

"Wait, hold on." You waved your hand. Hunching over the dusty box filled with remnants of your childhood, you began looking for another trinket that surely must have been there. "You mean that you are... goddamn where is it... I saw it somewhere here... Got it!" you exclaimed when you stood up with a thin, red book in your hand. "You mean that you are this funny fella?"

Your finger was tapping against the cover of a children's book. There was an illustration of a Santa Claus-like man carrying a big sack thrown over his shoulder. He was climbing a ladder to an open bedroom window. Above the picture, in fancy curvy letters, was written Grandfather Sand.

A small smile crept unto Morpheus's face. His eyes lit up vividly and you suspected that if he was any less reserved in his emotional expression, he would have laughed in your face. "Did you think he is the Sandman?"

"I didn't think the Sandman was at all," you retorted as you carelessly tossed the book on your bed. Looking once more at the pleasantly familiar illustration, the nostalgia made you recall something Morpheus had said to you a few minutes ago. "You said you know my face."

"I have visited you many times before," he stated. After a moment, he added in a quieter, defeated tone: "But you don't seem to remember."

You only shrugged your shoulders. "If I was a toddler, then no wonder. It was lifetimes ago."

Morpheus gave the room an absent once-over before staring at the box next to the two of you. Something brown and fur-like was peeking from behind dolls and plastic horses. His pale, skeletal hand reached for the mysterious object only for it to turn out to be an old, worn-out teddy bear. It still smelled of your grandmother's perfume. Sometimes you wondered what happened to him... Apparently, Terry had been safe and sound in your grandmother's basement throughout all those years.

Dream was examining the bear when he suddenly decided to make you recall something you had already forgotten you once remembered: "Maybe Spot tugged at him, tore the ear off, didn't say he's sorry?"

It was a quote - one that you had grown to know all too well. You felt as though that single line from a rhymed story allowed you to rediscover the oldest memories your brain could possibly store like you suddenly became privy to a life you had once led but not anymore. "A needle, a thread, a pair of hands, we'll mend the hurt right away," you quietly continued." You fixed Terry..." Yes, that plushy friend from your childhood did need an 'emergency surgery' once, although you could never quite recall who sew his ear back on. At some point, you even began questioning whether his little accident was even real as there was no sign of a tear whatsoever.

The memory came to you in waves like afterimages of a dream one tries to recall after waking up. It was all blurry, voices heard from miles away and sights as if seen through a dirty lens. "Yeah, I remember I used to ask to be told the same three stories over and over again and you were never frustrated with me."

"You were a great listener."

"So, how does this work? The melody plays and you just, puff, appear wherever?"

Morpheus sat Terry at the top of the dolls, plastic horses and fairytale books about fairies still residing inside the box. His bony hand lingered on the brown, matted fur of the plushie. "It was a gift." His gaze returned to you. "To a girl who just like you could not fall asleep. For decades it remained silent until that one night when I met you for the first time."

Your hand brushed against the ceramic raven inside the music box. It was quite an interesting choice of design for an item meant for children. "A magical heirloom. Sounds cool." The ghosting touch of your fingers was withheld only for you to close the enamelled lid for an unspecified amount of time. "Don't worry, I won't abuse that... privilege. I'm sure you have a lot going on anyway."

Without letting his gaze leave you, Morpheus was a little too quick to answer you. "Play it anytime you want."

His expression remained generally ambiguous but you figured it was just the way he looked. There was, however, one detail of his face that caught your attention: his eyebrows slightly raised making him appear somewhat surprised or nervous. "Is that permission or a suggestion?" you asked.

"Both."

Tagging people who were interested in a follow-up: @secretdreamlandmentality @kbrownie @lolitaisreal @thegraywitch @aralezinspace @boofy1998

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y-creblogs · 1 year

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Imagine accidentally summoning Morpheus

The cardboard box had your name written on it in sharpie and judging by the amount of dust collected on the lid, it must have been waiting for you for at least a decade. According to your grandmother, everything inside was a remnant of your early childhood when she would take care of you when your parents couldn't. All of it was waiting for the day you become an adult and, to your grandmother's nostalgic dissatisfaction, that day had come a little faster than she wished.

Upon opening the box and coughing up your lungs with the old dust, you heard yourself gasp at the very first thing you lay your eyes on: a music box.

"Please, tell me you still work," you whispered to yourself as you hurriedly took it out.

The enamel was chipped away in many places but not enough to make the trinket in any way ugly. Its black paint and golden decorations took you back to all the sleepless nights when your grandmother would wind the music box up and let it play your insomnia away. "You'll be asleep before the song ends," she used to assure you. And she never once was wrong.

Carefully, you lifted the porcelain-covered lid. Inside, the figurine of a black raven was still taking flight, even after all those years when it was hidden away in a cardboard box somewhere between Christmas decorations and VHS tapes no one watched anymore. The inside of the music box was just as dark as the outside except for the tiny, white dots that were meant to resemble stars as though the black bird was always flying away into the night sky.

You turned the winding key countless times or so it seemed. When you felt that it wouldn't turn anymore, you excitedly retracted your hand, expecting the sweet melody of childhood to resound in your ears once more.

The raven figurine turned slowly as the equally slow melody began playing. Curiously, you never did learn what song it was as you have never heard it anywhere else. A grimace appeared on your face as you listened to the high-pitched, bright sounds: the melody in minor key sounded a lot darker, creepier, than you remembered it. Maybe the fang of time had already gnawed on the music box? Perhaps it was simply out of tune and you had to find someone capable of fixing it.

"Why have you summoned me?"

The low voice behind you made you fall over. Scurrying away in fear, you turned around only to see a tall, thin man in a long coat. His hair was dishevelled and its dark, raven-like shade made his pasty skin appear only lighter. Suddenly, you noticed the air in your bedroom smelling somewhat sweet and stale like fruit in an antique bookshop. His blue eyes remained strangely expressionless as he stared at you.

Even if you did know what to say, you were physically incapable of doing so. Who was he? How did he get in? And what on Earth did he mean by 'summon'? Your heart was thundering in your chest and you quickly began feeling trouble catching your breath. Fearful blankness wove a nest in your thoughts. A cold sweat run down your back.

"I know your face," he spoke again as he slowly walked towards you, "although long years had gone by since I last saw you."

Your back hit the wall - there was nowhere else to run from the stranger. He, to your horror, only continued his stroll in your direction. Panting, you looked around if there was anything you could use to defend yourself from the trespasser but a cardboard lid wasn't a weapon in any way or meaning. As it befits prey, you simply waited.

But his hand was never once raised against you. When the stranger stood right in front of you, he silently extended reached his arm to you to help you get up. With great hesitation, you took it.

"I must confess I did harbour some hope that you might remember me," he said once you had gotten up. "Alas, we are strangers once more."

You didn't believe him, not for a second. Had you ever met such an odd men, equally intimidating as he was gentle, you'd surely remember him or at least recognize his features as familiar. But you did not.

In a trembling voice, you managed to stutter out a response: "I have no idea who you are... sir."

For a moment, he appeared somewhat upset, vacantly looking towards the floor. "I know," he quietly answered in a raspy voice.

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y-creblogs · 1 year

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Hi! I just love your writing. Can you make a drabble/fic where morpheus is angry and scared that the girl he loves got hurt

Of course I can!!🌺I thought of making this a 2-in-1 kind of deal depending on whether the injury is self-inflicted on not so a big TW FOR SELF-HARM || [Sandman-inspired playlist]

1. Someone hurts you

To be perfectly honest, Morpheus should be primarily grateful that Corinthian's blade barely grazed your skin. It was, after all, very realistic for the rogue nightmare to take your life completely.

Morpheus was well-aware that one day you were going to die. As obvious as it was, he did his best to chase those thoughts away and not give them any energy or time. But in times like this, when your mortality was as if served to him on a silver platter, he grew even more fearful than those thoughts normally would make him: not only were you perfectly capable of dying but some malice raised its hand against you to bring that dreaded moment closer.

The wound stopped bleeding long ago. You were reminded of the injury only by the blunt burning sensation and the fact that the bandage would sometimes get caught on small things. The other thing that made it impossible to completely dismiss that event was Morpheus himself. For some reason, he refused to look you in the eye ever since. Despite that, you managed to catch him looking in your direction quite a few times, all longing and somewhat beaming with guilt and anger. But the moment he realized you noticed him, Morpheus would relocate his gaze or leave the room entirely.

It was when a loud commotion interrupting you and Lucienne made you realize it was time to have a stern word with him. The two of you looked in the direction of the noise, in some way expecting to see anything that would explain such a strange occurrence. When you met her gaze once more, Lucienne was giving you a meaningful, thoughtful look. Yes, it was high time someone asked Morpheus what demon possessed him for the past few days.

Entering the room, you found a complete mess: furniture turned upside down, books scattered, soil seeping out of broken clay pots... And in the centre of it all, round-shouldered Morpheus.

"What is going on with you?" you asked in a slightly irritated voice.

Quietly, he turned around to look at you. For the first time in a few days, although it felt like long months, Morpheus looked you in the eye. His eyes were bloodshot, lips trembling, and you couldn't quite tell whether he was angry or sad. In any case, something inside him broke and Morpheus didn't quite know what to do about it.

"It is my duty to protect you, to keep you safe," he gritted through his teeth. "More so from my own creations."

"I don't blame you for what happened. None of it is on you. Morpheus, you can't expect to always be there to prevent something bad from happening to me, it's not possible. You're doing the best you possibly can, I know it and I'm grateful for that."

"And yet it is not enough," he answered in a raspy voice. In long strides, he made his way across the room to you.

You were about to say something, make him realize that he wasn't, in fact, almighty but his cold, bony hands cradled your face, taking you by surprise.

"I'm already grieving that I will have to remember you for longer than I have known you," he slowly spoke in a low voice as if he was letting you in on a secret, "and I will not allow my time with you to be cut shorter than it already has to be."

2. You hurt yourself [TW FOR SELF-HARM]

He is seething but not because of you. Upon some reflection, he'd realize that his anger was actually guilt that had rotten into a completely new form of life. Could he have prevented all of that from happening? Did he miss something completely obvious that let you spiral into where you were now? Or perhaps it was something about his mannerism or words that pushed you in this direction?

On a reasoning level, he gets why you're doing this, as in the chain of events is not missing a link, but emotionally? He can't wrap his head around it. In his experience, humans cling to life with all they have, regardless of price, so what manner of agony wove a nest in your heart?

Morpheus just keeps apologizing. He's said he's sorry so many times he slowly lost clarity about what he was apologizing for. Nonetheless, the imperative to beg for your forgiveness remained. He was sorry you were in such a place, sorry that he didn't notice your suffering sooner, sorry that he couldn't instantaneously fix this, sorry for all the times he upset you, sorry that he didn't know any words that could ease your agony.

You have no idea how much time has passed since he trapped you in a bone-crushing embrace. His head is shoved in the crook of your neck, making you feel each one of his breaths as their air brushes against your skin. But his long silence was not empty as one might expect - Morpheus had a curious habit, or a gift perhaps, of making his quietness speak volumes, sing about things he couldn't possibly put into words or simply refused due to his reserved nature.

If you thought he was too good for you before, granting your every passing wish and whim, be prepared that this wasn't the final form of his devotion and charity. Now, Morpheus makes sure to give you things before you can even ask for them. He's aware that this isn't going to fix anything really but he doesn't know what else to do.

Then, after what felt like hours if not years, he leaned away to look at your face. His eyes were red as if he had been crying but his face was dry. "God will have to beg for my forgiveness for what happened to you," he whispered.

Each time Morpheus gets a chance, he places a chaste kiss on your scars as though he was wordlessly promising you something but you never quite knew what exactly.

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y-creblogs · 2 years

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1.02 ‘THE ROGUE PRINCE’ | 1.10 ‘THE BLACK QUEEN’ HOUSE OF THE DRAGON (2022-)

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y-creblogs · 2 years

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i need me a jacaerys velaryon fr 🥺

jace taking care of drunk you headcanons

a/n: sneaked this in while writing my report lol bc i randomly got the motivation !? not rlly proofread but i rlly love the short scenario heheh pls do enjoy and tell me your thoughts or feedbacks in my asks! i love receiving them!

part 1

Continua a leggere

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y-creblogs · 2 years

Text

jace when he’s drunk headcanons

gif is unrelated but it’s too cute not to add

a/n: not proofread lol wrote this on the road

Continua a leggere

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y-creblogs · 2 years

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— THE TORMENT of a life time ʾ ⋆

summary ; requested by anon.

“Could we please have a friends to lovers Jace Velaryon x reader suggestive fluff, please?”

pairing ; friends-to-lovers!jacaerys velaryon x stark!reader

notes ; this gif? ,, DAYUM also we’ll pretend the dance of dragons doesn’t happen and the starks still love jace 💁 also i for the life of me can’t write suggestive since im touch deprived so im sorry in advance,, also unrevised😔

it’s no secret that the starks of the north were fond of the princess rhaenyra and her children, especially jacaerys velaryon. though wary of outsiders, they’ve often come to court on the behest of the crowned princess and future king to the iron throne.

you, lady (y/n) stark, was one of many things that jacaerys found enlightening about the northern moors. somehow, although dark and dreary, you found some way to remain a beacon of light. every where you went, you wore a smile and the pleasant sound of your laughter was never too far behind. he supposed that you were the reason he was so quick to visit winterfell.

at the invitation of cregan stark, warden of the north and your lord father, he had set flight for winterfell on the back of vermax. he had packed light, intending on only staying for a few days.

that is, until he was persuaded by you to stay for a fortnight.

“i don’t understand why you have to leave so quickly, you’ve only just arrived,” you complain whilst lounging on his guest bed. you flip absentmindedly through the book he brought – a present for the celebration of your nameday. jacaerys turns to look at you, a smile parting his pink lips.

“i have princely duties, (y/n),” he says, though he knew you weren’t simple and you already knew that he was a prince with otherworldly duties, he had said this phrase with light tease. he continues to pack, hands delicately folding his belongings the way his mother had taught him. “but, i might be persuaded to stay.”

jacaerys abandons his belongings and moves toward the bed, gently pushing you by the shoulder to make you move and make room for him. he sits, back leaning against the headboard.

“oh really?” you respond, your eyebrow raising at his comment. “what does my prince suggest?”

the mere title uttered by your breath is something that causes his heart to skip a beat. he decides he likes the way his title rolls off your tongue. heat begins to sleep up his neck and he rubs at it anxiously.

he looks away and gives a bashful chuckle, “well, i hadn’t thought this far.”

you roll over on the furs of the bed, looking up at him through your lashes. your hands joined together in mock prayer in front of the prince.

“anything my prince desires.” you say. though he was sure it was a teasing remark, he can’t help but feel the warmth that continues to blossom within him. he shifts in his seat and he’s staring at you now, eyes drifting to your lips. he clears his throat when he realizes what he’s doing, looking away to survey the room. you don’t fail to notice this action, another smile creeping upon your lips. you both start to realize what you’re doing.

“clean my dragon saddle for me,” he suggests after a moment of thought. you make a face, immediately declining the idea. he laughs after your voice your concern, “fine. how about going.. dragonriding with me?”

you laugh again, but notice that’s he’s serious this time, “jace, i cannot go on the back of vermax with you, my father would kill you, kill me, then skin your dragon for pelt.” now it’s jacaerys’ turn to laugh. he knows it’s empty threats and merely a diversion from your real fear.

“dragonriding isn’t so scary, i promise,” jacaerys says, though it falls on to deaf ears. he takes a moment to look at you earnestly, a twinkle in his eyes, “i’ll let you hold on tight.”

you assume he meant that you can hold on to him tight. the idea is pleasant, though you still decline the offer, “i’m a stark whose duty is to stay on the ground and i intend to keep it that way.”

“just because you were born to be on land doesn’t mean you can’t free yourself and fly every now and then,” he counters. you look down, pulling the abandoned book back into your grasp and flipping the pages to distract yourself from his truth. jacaerys feels his hand reach out, gently tucking a strand of hair that splays over the book behind your ear. his fingers trail to your chin, where he softly points it back up. “come fly with me, (y/n),” he whispers, “and i’ll stay however long you want me to.”

“jace,” you warn through a whisper. for ten years you and the princeling of dragonstone had remained close friends, forever ignoring the fleeting moments that were shared due to being so young. you both thought that just meant you liked each other as friends, but this, this was a whole new territory for the both of you.

the air goes still, yet full of life as electricity dances between you two. both of you eye each others lips cautiously, lids slowly becoming lidded with mutual desire. he swallows thickly, unsure now what to do. perhaps he should’ve taken up his uncle’s advice and followed him blindly to the street of silk. then again, he was unashamed that this was his first interaction with a woman, and he was glad that it was you.

you, on the other hand, were unsure of how you wanted to proceed. you knew jace like the back of your hand and you were sure this one night of.. indulgence wouldn’t harm your friendship. some part of you was hesitant to see jace in this sort of light. a woman grown with the desire to be wanted, jace was starting to tick the right boxes.

“jace,” you say once more, his name falling from your lips almost as a plea, “kiss me.”

his lips capture yours with uncertainty and lack of rhythm, though, he finds it quickly and almost moans in your mouth when you return it. your teeth accidentally knock together, but it goes unnoticed as you two continue to share a passionate kiss. you slowly reach for the lapels of his nobleman’s robes, tugging at it softly. he grunts in declination, his other hand gently swatting away your hand.

“not this way,” he says once he pulls apart from the kiss. his hair, now disheveled from the constant run of your hand through it, added to the purity of his face that he now wears. his lip, pink and plump, were tucked into a bite between his teeth. “i think i liked that.”

you scoff playfully before echoing his words, “you think?”

now it’s his turn to roll his eyes, “i know i liked that.” with a lip bite of your own, you start to play with the lapels of his coat, your fingers trailing down.

“i know a couple more things i’m sure you’ll like,” you purr suggestively and jacaerys, once again, starts to feel the blush creep upon his neck. this time, it’s more obvious and even goes as far to highlight the tips of his ear red.

“don’t think this little act of yours is freeing you from a dragonride with me.”

“i was thinking of a dragonride actually, just not on vermax.”

jacaerys fells something catch in his throat and he starts to cough when your words reach his ears.

seven hells, you were going to be the death of him.

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