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thenightmistress · 2 years

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“Love is Irrelevant to people like Us.” ~ Part 1

Paring: Dream of the endless/Morpheus x Vampire/hybrid OC Fem!Reader, Hob Gadling x reader

18+ You have been warned! Proceed with caution!

A/N: I have unfortunately have not read the comics so it will be based off the show and mythology that surrounds the characters.

Warnings: Blood, violence, make-out scene, dead person, alcohol, consumption of blood, mentions of other TV show characters like in Good Omens, TVD, and Tom Ellis’s Lucifer along with the Sandmans Lucifer, Morpheus cause he is his own warning, eventual smut, slow burn, Hob being the best wingman, Matthew cause why not, Not really enemies to lovers but not friends to lovers, idk.

Summary: Life is a strange thing, so fragile, yet gives us the courage to keep going. It’s what makes us human, after all. Ultimately, we all end up in the same place in the loving embrace of death, helping us move on to the next life, but what happens to those who come back? What happens to the undead? The ones who escaped the clutches of death yet are quite alive? Life is a strange thing; so much to learn, so much to love, and so many dreams to explore, but there is always a price to life, even immortal ones. Mother Nature will always claim what is rightfully hers, and no one, not even the Endless, can say no.

Word count: 1,566

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Not my GIF

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It was a harsh winter nothing grew; the people were starving, but the brothels were filled to brim with people of all classes. Noble mixing with commoners, lords playing with whores, and men musing about fantasies and dreams far beyond their mortal minds can comprehend. As you sat at the table, men would stare at you not only because you looked to be of Nobel birth but because you were a woman in a brothel in men's clothing. Such a scandal would ruin any woman of any station good thing no one knew your name, only your good friend which you met centuries ago, Hob.

The year was 1589; you had come from France back home to England. The night was unbelievably cold; a regular mortal would catch their death out here, but for you, it was like a windy day in autumn. Spending days on end on a ship with nothing but men and their whores, a breeding ground for disease, it was a long and tiresome trip but being back where it all began brings comfort.

You were walking the cold streets of England when you stumbled upon a brothel, one you had seen many times but could never enter, so you hid in the darkened ally for any poor sod to walk past, and the night would claim its next victim. You could hear the overlapping voice of the men inside, drinking and telling tales from lands far away, but your mind was yelling at you. To hurry, to feed, drink, till your heart desire, so like an animal on the hunt, you would take the next man to exit the brothel.

A few minutes passed when you heard the door open and close. You listed three heartbeats; they spoke of nonsense, the perfect pry. Two of the men walked in the direction of the illuminated street whilst the other headed in your direction.

The hunt has begun. The man was walking in your direction when you stumbled out of your hiding place, pretending to be drunk and bumping into him. “Ooo I–I ssorry how silly of me,” you said, looking so out of it. The man took one look at you and helped you off of him. “It’s quite alright, dear; what is a pretty thing like you doing here all on her lonesome,” he said while caressing your face. You tried to hide the discussed look on your face when he did that. If your veins didn’t feel like sandpaper against you: you would have ripped his arm right off, but beggars can’t be choosers, not in this case.

So you looked up at the man through your lashes with the biggest doe eye you could conquer and said, “Maybe I didn't want to be on my lonesome anymore.” With this, the man looked hungrily at your lips before kissing you. He kissed you passionately; his tongue wanted access to your mouth, so you granted it to him. Unknowingly to him, you were slowly pushing him into the dark ally away from any prying eyes.

As you were kissing him, his hands began to wander. They went up your shirt, and you let the man do this and bit down on his bottom lip as to where it drew blood. Blood filled your mouth, and you pushed back. The man looked at you, so you said, “Oh dear me, I am terribly sorry, I I didn’t mean to.” They responded with, “it’s ok; it’s only blood” “your right. It’s only blood.”

You kissed him once more before landing the killing blow. Your eyes went dark and red where the white is supposed to be, veins popping out from under your eyes, teeth as sharp as daggers ready to eat. You looked into the man's eyes, and before he could scream in horror or do anything, you told him to keep calm, don’t scream, don’t run, just stay still and quiet. With this, you went to the man's neck and sunk your teeth in. You didn’t know if it was the alcohol or the fact that you hadn’t fed in months, but his blood was magnificent, almost euphoric almost, you continued to feed on the man until his heart stopped beating, and you let go.

His lifeless body dropped to the ground, and you took a moment to catch your breath while staring into the sky. You cleaned up your face and turned around to see a man standing there in shock. Shit is all you could think. How much had he seen? Were you so caught up in feeding that you didn’t hear anyone come down this way? You made direct eye contact with the man. His heart was beating out of his chest. Maybe he didn’t see as much as you think. The man backed away slowly and bolted out of there.

SHIT, SHit shit! For a mortal, he can sure run fast, but you're faster, so when he turned the corner thinking he lost you, there you were right behind him.

The man was trying to catch his breath and make a run for it, but you grabbed onto his wrist with such force he had only felt once before. You dragged him into a nearby ally, and he asked, “What are you?” there was much fear in the man's eyes but no surprise. “What I am is none of your concern; better yet, who are you, and why were you watching me?” The man introduced himself as Hob Gadling. “Well, Hob Gadling, why were you watching me?” “Sorry for staring. It’s just I saw your long coat and, um tall menacing figure, so I thought you were my friend I was waiting for.” The look on your face was strained, and he noticed it too. “But I saw you hunched over the man. At first, I thought it was him, then the body fell, and there was blood on your face, and I saw my mistake.” “You think I’m a fool; you think so little of me to tell me such a lie,” you said, backing him into the wall behind him. He wasn’t wrong; you are menacing; nothing is stopping you from killing him, but who did he think you were? Long coat, tall menacing, could it be Elijah, Klaus, Crowley, or maybe Lucifer?

You looked back at the man in the eyes and asked, “Who do you think I am, and be honest; your life may depend upon it.” “I I told you I thought you were my friend; I do not know his name, but we met in that brothel every 100 years for the past 200 years, and he will be there any second, and if I’m not there, he’ll probably kill us both.”

Huh? It couldn’t be any of the originals last I heard; Klaus has three of his siblings daggered in a coffin and Elijah by his side, his voice of reason; not only that, but they're in Bulgaria looking for the Petrova doppelganger. The man was telling the truth; you compelled it out of him. He saw the confusion in your eyes, and he spoke up. “You don’t know who I speak of, do you?”

“Not a chance, I’ll let you go, but first I’ll make you forget this encounter” “What? No” “NO!?” “Want me to say it in Spanish, no!” Who does he think he is? “What makes you think I’ll let you leave with your life?” “I think you and I will be close friends” “Why?” “I’ll tell you in 100 years.” “Huh, 100 years then,” you said with a smug smile, and you walked Hob to the brothel, and before you left, you yelled, “Maybe next time you can buy me a drink or invite me in!” He yelled back. “Very well then.” You smiled and disappeared into the shadows.

You thought this man was mad, or is he telling the truth? I guess will find out in 100 years.

Hob, on the other hand, got there just on time with a few minutes to spare; he sat at the table with a feast when his dreamy friend walked in.

A/N: It's my first time writing anything; sorry if it's not the best, but I'll try to improve my writing with each story. Guessing by the title of the story, there will be a part two for Morpheus has yet to meet our lovely character, and I'll be using the rules from TVD (The vampire diaries) and The Originals to explain the characters' vampirism. Characters from those shows will be mentioned but will not be in the story.

#lord morpheus #the sandman #dream of the endless #netflix the sandman #morpheus x reader #hob gadling #tom sturridge #morpheus x fem!reader #the endless #lord of dreams #the sandman x reader #death of the endless #tvdu #lucifer netflix #lucifer morningstar #ineffable husbands #crowly x aziraphale #neil gaiman

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knowbodytoldmethat · 2 years

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The Sandman Masterlist

Dream/Morpheus

Child of The Dreaming 2

What You Want (Coming Soon)

Death

Johanna Constantine

Come Home (Coming Soon)

Rose Walker

Lucienne

Lucifer Morningstar

Desire

#the sandman #dream of the endless x reader #death of the endless x reader #johanna constantine x reader #rose walker x reader #lucienne x reader #lucifer morningstar x reader #desire of the endless x reader

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lightdancer1 · 9 months

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New chapter up:

Excerpt:

I shall take my helm and go to face the Morningstar.

Hob stiffened.

"Dream, Lucifer could-"

Dream shook his head.

They would not empty their own realm on a whim. This is a trap, of some sort. I am familiar enough with these things to recognize that. And yet, at times, awareness that a trap is just that and the willingness to spring it can be one's most powerful weapon in the most powerful arsenal left.

They would hold their glasses together.

"Then I'll give you a toast, my beloved. To absent friends, the season of mists, and may each and every one of us give the Devil their due."

In a single clink of glasses all of them drank and then Johanna prepared to follow him as Dream held up his hand.

They want you there, Laughing Magician. I recognize that a trap is one. I am not obligated to give Lucifer what they so desperately want, nor shall I.

#death of the endless #dream of the endless #lucifer morningstar #johanna constantine #death of the endless x johanna constantine #in much wisdom much grief #season of mists

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why-what-no · 2 years

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Having A Partner With Tattoos Would Include

Pairing: Morpheus x Reader, Desire x Reader, The Corinthian x Reader, Death x Reader, Lucifer x Reader

Warnings: Tattoos, Mentione Of Pain, Vaguely Possessive Lucifer :)

Notes: My own writing is making me really wanna get tattoos

Requested by: “Cypher-1-2-3-4” On Wattpad

Morpheus:

😴 Morpheus had seen the popularity of tattoos rise and fall, but he had been in prison while tattoo machines were made

😴 Meaning that he wasn't entirely used to growing popularity and easy access of modern tattoos

😴 That being said, he did think a lot of them were very creative. He loved to see the art that you've inked onto your body.

😴 He always thought you were a work of art, sculpted by a genius. And your tattoos were no exception

�� The two of you would be relaxing in bed, Morpheus tracing over the lines and shapes on your body.

😴 Fascinated by the designs on your skin

Desire:

😍 Desire always liked tattoos

😍 Sometimes, when they were blending in with humans, the form they would take would have tattoo as well. Just because they liked them

😍 So they thought it was charming that you had them

😍 Desire would want to see each and every one. As well as the story behind it

😍 Why you got it, where you got it, those questions were very interesting to them

😍 Learning a lot about you by questioning the permanent markings you've chosen to put on your skin

The Corinthian:

😎 The Corinthian thought your tattoos were really hot.

😎 Kissing over them, tracing them, loving when you were clothes that showed them

😎 If you get any new tattoos, he'll be pretty involved with the process.

😎 Helping you pick out the one that you liked, going with you to get the tattoo done. He's fascinated by the process

😎 He'll suggest that the two of you get matching tattoos

Death:

💀Death, like Desire, is super curious about your tattoos and why you got them

💀 She's seen every different type of tattoo on her job, knowing so many stories about them

💀 So she'll want to know your story as well. She'll want to see each of the tattoos over your body

💀 Although she doesn't like hearing that it hurt you to get them. She doesn't like the idea of you in pain

💀 But if you're happy with your tattoos, then so is she. She thinks they're beautiful on you

Lucifer:

😈 Lucifer didn't expect to like your tattoos, but was quickly intrigued by them

😈 They likes the artistic shapes against your delicate skin, the idea that you had them put on your body as the cost of some pain.

😈 It wouldn't take long for them to start suggesting you get a tattoo of them. Their name or a sigil of their choosing

😈 Lucifer adored the idea of you having a symbol of them on you permanently. A visual representation of your love.

😈 The devil’s equivalent of a promise ring or a marriage license

😈 But all in all, they enjoyed looking at the art you have put on your body.

😈 Loving how fascinating they made you to Lucifer and all of their subjects.

Taglist: @stygianoir @keengardenprincess @minetticatinwonderland , @fangirlmary @absbdbshhs @kiki13522 @bumblez-of-beez @jar-of-moondust

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roguelov · 9 months

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Omg I need more of the supernatural harem for reader lol like a whole multi chapter fic to be honest but some more blurbs will do

Me too! Oh my god I love the whole idea I would definitely do more short blurbs for now! Like I have so many lil ideas now

Like imagine all your exs in a room (Death, Desire, Hob, and Calliope) trying to make sure Dream doesn’t fuck this up with you because you are honestly so sweet and deserve the world

You visit Hell occasionally to say hi to Lucifer (after learning the truth) and they always smile when you are around

Your exs ‘fight’ for time with you and you’re just sitting their smiling like ‘hey it’s okay, whatever you guys want I want’ and they all just melt and decide to do a group picnic instead

Your exs give sex advice to Dream on what are your biggest turn ons and offs (he hates it but accepts it)

You becoming the mediator to soothe any problems between your exs

You who just have all these supernatural beings wrapped around your fingers and you don’t really know it

#it’s my new fav thing #the sandman #morpheus #dream of the endless #morpheus x reader #desire of the endless #death of the endless #calliope #lucifer morningstar #hob gadling #anon #ask

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littledollll · 1 year

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Hellooooo, before I request anything I just wanted to let you know that your stories are super duper comforting. I get so excited when I see that you've posted, and I especially love re-reading your works when I'm feeling sick, or little or sad or you know...✨️other things✨️

I was reading up on Lucifer (The Sandman's) Wiki page, but the comic version, and I read that Lucifer can choose a soul's destination, and they killed someone by their own will, so that they'd be free from (I think) a demon's service.

Soooo I was wondering if I could request Lucifer x fem reader? They're in love but reader is a mortal, so they beg Luci to kill them so that 1) they can be free from this shitty world but also 2) so that they can be together.

And maybe Luci has to think of the nicest way they can kill their lover? Lots of comfort and angst please hehe. Also I hope this makes sense <333

-🧸 anon

Our forever

Lucifer x human!reader

a/n: random 2am writing motivation I’ve gotten 3 fics DONE ima see what else I can do until I knock tf out☝️

Warning: talk about death, like so much of it, like it’s basically the whole fic. Slight arguing but it’s bc they love eachother awww

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“What?” The look on Lucifer’s face was of disbelief, truly they looked at you as if you were insane to even bring up the idea.

“There’s only so much time you can spend in the waking, and I have nothing here Lucifer. No reason to stay. So- kill me, we found a way to be together forever. You wouldn’t have to leave your realm constantly, I wouldn’t miss you so much, we could have so much time.”

Still, Lucifer looked anything but convinced.

“I’m gonna die anyways! I would preferred not having to wait like 80 years just so I can freely be with you.” You were stubborn but so are they. “Then wait. Why, why do you so freely wish to give up your life for Hell. What’s another 80 years if I’ll have an eternity with you by the end of it.”

“Wont I be like super old? You want to be with a super old me? I certainly don’t want to look any older than I am now for the rest of eternity, thank you!” That was a poor argument, you knew that. But you felt as if this was actually becoming an argument and you sure as hell didn’t want that to be the case.

“I can’t do that.” They quietly replied, hands coming up to cup your face. “Fuck the laws, since when are you anything but rebellious!” You were so set on this idea. Lucifer sighed, they almost looked, sad? “I don’t care about the laws. I care about you, much more than anything else, much more than I’d usually feel comfortable admitting. My darling, I can’t kill you.”

Sure you’ve been together for years, you know how you feel about eachother you know they love you more than anything. But hearing that admission, basically a confession- so openly made you pause. What are you even supposed to say after that?

“You die and then what? You just leave your whole life behind, quite literally. You simply move to hell? What comes after? What are your expectations, what do you want from this?” Being alive for so many eons you’d guess it’s impossible to stop thinking about the future, about any and all possibilities.

“Nothing! I just want to be with you. I don’t care what i have to go through or have to get used to once I’m there. I just want to be with you why is that so difficult to understand?” Why don’t 𝙮𝙤𝙪 understand.

“Hell isn’t me. You need to understand that, it’s not a book trope, it’s not a person who softens up to you. It’s a place meant for sin, judgment and punishment. Hell is not fun, it’s freezing, it smells of sulfur and smoke, there is no such thing as peace and quiet there. I can keep you sheltered inside the walls of my castle. Outside of that, it is just hell.”

“Then I’ll stay by your side, inside the castle, and I’ll learn. Id only have so many years to learn how to live there after all.” You’re not letting this go until they give in or the day you naturally die and they know that.

You knew their mind was running through every little detail of how this could work, of how they’d find the strength to actually kill you, how you could be by their side, how hell could actually be your home.

“Is this truly what would please you?” They searched your eyes for any hesitation, for doubt, but they couldn’t find any. “To start Our forever now? More than anything. I have nothing here to will hold me back, I have a home when I’m with you, Lucifer.”

Lucifer sighed, arms wrapping around you once again. “I, I will find a way, if you truly insist. I will ensure your comfort, that you are to die quickly and painlessly, and when you wake it will be in the safety of my arms.”

“I couldn’t dream of anything better!” You were visibly giddy now that you got your way. “Peculiar little being. Nobody has ever been this excited about death or hell.”

You giggled and spoke proudly, “Death is a friend, and the lord of hell is my lover, I wouldn’t expect to be called anything but peculiar.”

Was it a terrifying idea to Lucifer? Definitely. No argument there. But seeing how you practically lit up when Lucifer complied maybe made it all worth it.

#the sandman #🧸 anon #lucifer sandman #death of the endless #sandman lucifer x reader #lucifer morningstar the sandman #gwendoline christie #sandman lucifer morningstar x reader #the sandman lucifer morningstar #the sandman lucifer #lucifer morningstar (the sandman)#lucifer sandman fluff

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marianhellequin · 2 years

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Morning Star

Fandom: The Sandman Characters: Dream x Lucifer, Death Rating: G Genre: slash/pre-slash, romance ____________________ Hell is an ever-seething cauldron of anger, rage and hatred. Heaven is the peace of balance and the happiness of existence.

And dreams are the boundary between the real and the unreal, an endless abyss of everything. Hell is indifferent to the Prince of Dreams.

But Lucifer is not Hell. * * *

Enough time has passed for the storm that swept the world after Lucifer's leave to calm down. The key to Hell no longer lay heavy in hands, the fragile balance of the world was restored. There came the silence, similar to what happens after a heavy storm.

Dream glides like a silent, majestic shadow through his kingdom, creates with the inspiration of a true artist, without looking back, without guessing the result, striving for perfection only visible to him. People have new dreams.

People have frightening and inspiring dreams, contemplative and dreary, bright and restless, angry and poisonous, they dream vices and sins, they dream revenge and creation. And only one thing unites this kaleidoscope: the radiance of the Morning Star in the darkest sky, of the bright, the only one.

Lucifer himself looks like a perfect nightmare, perfect in his impeccable precision and versatility. But no matter how many nightmares Morpheus creates – none of them made it. Well, it's silly to compare a fallen angel and visions woven from the matter of dreams and visions. Lucifer has always been one of the greatest creators. The Morning Star, in some strange, insane sense, is a guiding light, and Dream cannot find an answer to the question: when did this star become a beacon for him?

Perhaps this has been the case since the beginning of time.

Fallen angels. Absolutely different, the Endless ones cannot understand them – but, of course, one can try. It seems that restless Death was the first to try to do this when she took one of them under her wing. Everyone is mortal, even angels. It made a strange impression on her then, she appeared in the realm of Dream, chatted about it incessantly and brought somewhat figs and apples with her, telling about the forbidden fruit.

He had listened to her then, caught up in the whirlpool of rapid, light speech – like the waters of a mountain river – and he was thinking, what it would be like to have wings.

* * *

An eternity after that story of hers, Death is sitting, legs dangling from a low curved bridge, swinging her feet carelessly and crunching a juicy green apple. Dream stands like an immovable shadow nearby. People don't notice him, even though he stands out among them – a tall, thin black silhouette, like a fragment of the black mirror of the abyss lost in the universe. They don't notice because Morpheus doesn't want it; he's an illusion, a dream, visible only from the corner of the eye, you look at him point-blank and you won't see him anymore, that's how the magic of dreams works. People don't notice Death because they don't want to see her. And she is not up to them at this moment, she watches the little fox cubs playing on the shore while their ginger mother lazily basks in the sun.

Dream has no wings and never had. Even if someone dreamed him differently. His canopy of soft darkness is his mantle of night.

"Let me ask you a question, sister mine," the speech of the Dream Lord is slow, heavy, like stones on the path of a mountain river. Death raises her head, squinting at him, nods and waits. "Do tell me... what does it feel like to have wings?"

Death raises an eyebrow and looks thoughtfully at the water lilies swaying rhythmically on the water. The sun leaning towards the horizon casts warm reflections on her pale face.

"This is freedom," she finally says, "The greatest freedom. Only birds know such a thing. And not everyone is aware of it," she follows the swift darting over them with her eyes. "And at the same time, it is the heaviest chain that binds hand and foot."

Dream stares at her, trying to feel her, and wonders if the fallen ones feel it the same way. The fallen one.

"It's like you have everything but nothing."

"Have you ever wanted to be free of them?" Dream asks cautiously. The question is too direct and frank, but if there is at least someone in all worlds and universes whom he can trust, then it is her.

Slyly looking up at him, Death chuckles. Of course, the reason for such a question won't hide from her insight. Sometimes Dream thinks if she literally sees beyond his skin and bone. She stares cunningly like a fox, shrewdly like a crow, leerily as a human. Sister's touch – the tip of a raven's feather, a whiff of the north wind – easily glides over Dream's pale thin wrist.

"No, lil' brother. I think that my bondage is a worthy payment for my freedom." He nods thoughtfully, accepting her contradictory answer, looks at the sunset sky – the stars in the abyss of his gaze dimly twinkle with cold silver. The rulers of the worlds beyond the limits of human consciousness do not wear crowns, but Dream always holds himself as if it is very heavy.

Death gets to her feet easily, dusts off her palms and comes closer, puts her head on younger brother's shoulder. It's like her crown is the lightest coronet woven from nothingness and moonlight, shining with the last supernova flash.

"You're still thinking about it. How did you feel at that moment, huh? When you cut off his wings."

Dream purses his thin, bloodless lips, pondering over the answer, and then drops a short one like a heavy stone:

"A fleeting triumph."

He hesitates, it is noticeable – by the way his fingers tremble, by the restless gleam of stars in his eyes, by the shadow of doubt that barely passed over his face. If they were in the Realm of Dreams now, the sky would be covered with storm clouds or illuminated with a crazy rainbow of a thousand colours; the wind would bring the cherry petals torn off and sprinkle their snow over the hot sands. But they're in the mortal world. And only wise Death sees contradictory feelings under the porcelain mask of dispassion.

He thinks of the fallen angel, the crown of Almighty's creation. Not people, no. They amuse themselves with fairy tales that they stand on top of the world, while they are just a herd grazing in the meadows – whoever the herd thinks they are, both the shepherd and the guard dog know what it's really worth.

"He's in Los Angeles right now," Death says, yawning in a completely human way and putting her arm around brother's waist to make it easier to stand.

The Endless look at the sky in the west becoming more and more bright and scarlet, and on the other side the fox stretches, fluffs up her copper fur coat – she's like a fragment of sunset herself.

Among the Endless, Dream is not the most cautious and secretive, but probably the most arrogant. And he can let himself be mistaken.

Among the Endless, Death is not the most calculating and pragmatic, but probably the most reasonable. And she can let him take the risk.

"It was a good day, sister mine," Dream admits, squinting at her. Death smiles broadly at the starry abyss in his eyes:

"For sure! Otherwise, you would have been sitting like ruffled a crow in your hall, and wouldn't have seen anything! And you wouldn't try roasted chestnuts."

Dream looks at her and suddenly laughs. Softly, velvety and very sincere. This laughter is like a glass of champagne on an empty stomach, barely getting out of bed; like waking up under warm sunlight; like a fresh mountain breeze disturbing the lake surface.

Lucifer is no longer the ruler of Hell, but he is still a powerful Fallen One. He is still the one who created the world itself. Anyone would tell the Dream Lord that it is not worth dealing with him once again, it is not worth getting in the way of someone who has something to avenge – someone who has cursed with his kingdom by abandoning it. But not Death. Maybe because she really cares.

* * *

He is chasing a nightmare – other people's dreams crumble in the path of this chase, the sleepers wake up, not understanding what's the matter, they feel anxiety and unreasonable fear.

Dream chases the nightmare – it takes shape of a fleet-footed cheetah, but the Dream-panther is faster and more stronger; the falcon cannot overcome the raven; the multicolored asp dives into the water like an arrow – to be caught by the indifferent mouth of the anglerfish.

The trapped nightmare shrinks in a tiny black stone at the feet of the Prince of Dreams.

Lucien looks at it with hostility, coldly, waiting for the verdict.

"It is imperfect," Dream says.

"You can improve it," Lucien responds politely.

The nightmare runaway of an endless chase no longer tries to escape, because it knows that there is no hiding from the wrath of Dream. But it seems that he is indifferent to the fate of the failed creation.

"Later," he says. And he doesn't even scatter the insolent in sand – he just picks up the stone, sealing the nightmare in this guise, so that it doesn't run away again – so that it writhes in the cramped tiny cage, punishing itself – and inattentively gives it to Lucien.

"Is something wrong, my lord?" finally, the librarian asks cautiously.

"I have things to do."

Dream discarnates into golden sand, leaving his realm.

Night is his time, now, being among thousands of sleeping creatures, Morpheus feels even more power in his hands than usual. The City of Angels is full of sinners, vices and dirty darkness; The City of Angels does not sleep, but dreams – its dreams and visions are woven into a crazy kaleidoscope of evening lights and neon signs.

Dream glides like an invisible shadow between people, dark clothes barely rustle with the echo of distant dreams, he is a missed chance, a vague hope, a blurred memory. People turn around, but they don't see anything.

Dream steps on the threshold of a catchy nightclub with a very telling name, gaining materiality at half-step – the mantle of deep night is replaced by long, but quite tangible dark coat flaps, the starry abyss in his eyes is covered with a veil of clouds – they seem just black.

Lucifer, still as magnificently elegant as before, plays the piano easily, masterfully, and Dream stands at a distance, listening to his music. It is echoed by human sins and vices, whose song sounds stronger here; he remembers how the Lightbringer once told him that he also has weaknesses.

It is not he who is subject to human vices and weaknesses, Dream thinks, but the human vices and weaknesses are a pathetic parody of the chatoyancy of the desires of the Fallen. Inept takeoff of a fan on a real star. The Morning Star, the brightest of all.

A moment before the music ends, Dream leaves the noisy hall being the same quiet shadow. To him, the Endless, the material world is nothing; he takes a step on the asphalt colored with bright lights, and the next step he makes barefoot on the cool coastal sand.

"Seems like I didn't imagine, Dream of the Endless."

Lucifer's voice is a deceptively soft feline tread, warm sparks of the first flames, enveloping velvet of intoxicating poison. The night sky is strewn with stars unnaturally thick and bright, but Dream looks at the only star instead – the Morning one.

"You are an unrivaled creator, Morning Star," Dream says after a pause.

"A crazy artist tells me," Lucifer chuckles, smiling nonchalantly. They are now like light and darkness – only behind the angelic appearance of the Fallen lies an endless abyss of sin and destruction, and the profoundly black robes of Dream conceal the brightest kaleidoscope of reveries and piercing sun rays of hope.

"I didn't want to disturb you," Dream continues. "I was just curious to look at your new world."

"I doubt you've seen enough, Morpheus," Lucifer comes closer, calm, relaxed, like a well-fed wildcat – hands in his pants pockets, the night breeze ruffles his blond hair.

The last time they saw each other, the black poisonous blood of the Lightbringer was under their feet, and Dream treaded on his severed wings.

Now it seems to him that they are still behind Lucifer's back – but different. Light, thin, swift, shimmering with the cold gold of the night sky and neon signs.

Dream cannot take his eyes off their invisible outlines, and recklessly steps towards them.

"Then show me more, Lightbringer."

It's like going all-in in a complex card game. But it is better than the unknown; the Dream Lord is no stranger to pride, but he prefers defeat to uncertainty.

But contrary to expectations, Morning Star grins and holds out his hand.

Now it would be right to disintegrate in the golden sand, slip away along thin threads connecting mortals and the dream world, but instead Dream touches warm, material Lucifer's hand.

And sees through his eyes.

The city is overwhelmed by a wave of emotions, experiences, sins – life, bubbling and real. It hits the head like a strong cocktail, like a first kiss, knocks down like a drunken brawl, like a pupil-dilating drug. It seems to Dream as if he is falling into an eternity, and it seems as if wings suddenly unfold behind his own back – the thinnest, huge, immediately falling off in a mantle of weightless darkness, but this life, real, different, fleeting, brings him down into the abyss and then lifts him to heaven. To where the Morning Star burns brightest among the twinkling stars.

"Well... and how do you like my world?" the devil whispers in his ear.

"Your world... is like you. It is beautiful in its diversity and its brightness," Dream answers, and his words are unusually light, as if they are also caught up in the vortex of creation. "Your world is a real art, shining brighter than the stars. Your world is like you, it is the faded shadow of yours."

The devil is behind his shoulder, warm breath touches his temple, warm fingers wrap around his wrist.

Dream is of the Endless, they are above sins and virtues, above temptations; but they are not devoid of human passions.

After a moment or infinity, Lucifer retreats a step, and Dream involuntarily stretches after him, like a shadow at sunset – in a way people cling to a nap, trying to catch last sweet visions after the alarm clock rings, dream a little more, cling to the flaps of his mantle, and it slips out of their fingers. And now it's like he's in their place.

"I'm glad to see you here, Dream," the Lightbringer says calmly, looking at him intently, with a strange, unreadable gaze.

"After all that happened?" Dream clarifies, and the heavy quiet speech sounds different now, it sounds like the sleepy rumbling of a wild cat warmed in the sun, the rustle of a night summer rain.

Lucifer just shrugs.

"Have you thought about why you exactly?"

Dream recalls all their meetings from the beginning of time. Cautious, indifferent, then – hostile, with tangible opposition; later – with mutual respect for a worthy opponent and even more cautious. There were... There were as many of them as there were stars in the sky. Fallen angels do not sleep, but they do dream. Each dream brought Lucifer to the Realm of Dreams, each time its master followed the priceless guest like an invisible shadow.

"Tell me, Prince of Dreams, what do you dream about?" Lightbringer says.

What does the dream dream about? It's like asking what the tempter is tempting himself with. The starry abyss looks straight into the bright eyes of the tempter and sees this temptation by its reflection.

"Dreams are unreal, they are only something that cannot be reached, hidden fears and desires. I rarely get the opportunity to dream, Morning Star..." says Dream softly, his speech is the Milky Way spreading in the night sky. "But then... I see the stars that appeared before all things, and I hear the echo of the song of creation that sounded before I appeared, and I see the Arch as I have never seen it – with the brightest star. I see the creation of all things. And the stars, Lightbringer. In my dreams, I see stars."

The stars echo his words shining in the dark holes of deep eyes, and he looks at Lucifer directly, openly. When Dream speaks like this, his words seem to be woven into the matter of dreams, fragments of visions glide around. He is a great storyteller, all fantasies come to life in his domain, restless creative minds bring inspiration from his realm.

The stars in the distant abyss seem to shine a little differently. Their brilliance is no longer so distant and cold, it does not burn with the cold dawns of unknown worlds, but shimmers with sparks of fire in the hearth, the warm gold of sunset, the copper-silver skin of a snake that has slipped into the autumn foliage.

"Come back sometime, Dream," Lucifer says. "And don't run away so fast. I'd play something special for you."

Dream does not answer, but they both know that their meeting will be repeated.

* * *

There's no one but the two of them here, even the faithful Mazikeen was sent away – she does not like the Dream Lord, can not forgive him the humiliation of her master in front of hordes of demons.

Stringy and sweet like summer honey, the melody fills the space for a single listener – Dream approaches as a black shadow, stops in a step, listens without taking the stars' gaze from the Fallen One.

Lucifer is the perfect creation, the perfect creator – under his hands, music takes on an impeccable form, inaccessible to mortals, and the heart could not stand the beauty of this melody.

"You are the most skilful of musicians, Lightbringer," Dream says when the echoes of the last chord cease. "You have always been the greatest creator."

Fallen One rises to his feet and moves his shoulders almost imperceptibly – as if the scars left on his back from the severed wings are still aching.

"You're dreaming of the stars, Dream," he says, and his gaze seems to be turned inward. "Even here, you've surpassed me."

The Prince of Dreams looks at him for a long time, and then he goes to the piano himself, runs his fingers over the keys. He could take the grace of the hands movements from an Austrian youth, a future recognized genius, restlessly dozing on an airplane; take a smooth rhythm from an old Jewish woman who devoted her whole life to music, who fell asleep in a hospital bed; take a melody from a genius of cold Norway, who was not understood and will never be understood anymore, who forgot himself in a drunken, sound sleep; weave together as carefully as he creates dreams.

But even that would not be enough.

"Fallen angels do not sleep, but they do dream," Dream says. And before his words have time to painfully prick wounded pride, he adds, "So let me offer you a gift."

The finest sand shimmers in gold on his palm. The abyss in his eyes is restlessly twinkling with stars.

"Do you think this would help me?" Lucifer snorts haughtily, as if masking an old, painful longing.

"You're not losing anything, Morning Star," Morpheus' words, slow, quiet, inexorable, are like the night darkness coming from the east.

"Fine. So be it," the devil agrees and meets this darkness with his head held high in pride. Golden sand darts off from the palm of the Dream Lord, envelops, covers his eyes, carries away in this whirlwind.

Dream does not know what Lucifer is really dreaming about, but gives him what he can give. He gives a vision of pure, absolute freedom – he gives a blank canvas the size of the whole infinity which fits in the palm of the hand; he gives new wings – weightless, intangible, light and swift; he gives new stars – bright, sparkling, falling in bubbles into a glass of champagne. He gives a gust of fresh, strong wind, sweeping away all the old pain, blowing out all the painful memories; he gives a bright surf with a surge of energy and baseless fun.

He gives something with which he once defeated Lucifer's vassal in front of his legions: hope.

Morpheus is above the concepts of good and evil, he is the creator – the bizarre harmony, the elusive balance is more important for him, and he often does not make a difference between vices and virtues. But he looks into the essence of things, spreads his dreams under Morning Star's feet – and he remains fascinated himself by this brightest radiance.

When the golden sand settles like a gentle haze under the feet of the Fallen One, Dream hears a soft, velvety, triumphant laugh. And this sound is the cosmic melody of the brightest star that fell so infinitely long ago.

Its brightest light flashes with renewed vigor as a beacon in the darkness, and this is the hope that everything just begins.

#the sandman #dream of the endless #death of the endless #lucifer #lucifer morningstar #fanfic #slash #dream x lucifer #pls tell me if i have any problems with my english #available on ao3 and ficbook

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her-soliloquies · 2 years

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So I turned on the notification on Neil Gaiman's blog, you know because his replies are just too good, and now I'm being notified like every half hour. The man is tireless! And I love it!

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thenightmistress · 2 years

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“Love is Irrelevant to people like Us.” ~ Part 2

Paring: Dream of the endless/Morpheus x Vampire/hybrid OC Fem!Reader, Hob Gadling x reader

18+ You have been warned! Proceed with caution!

A/N: I have unfortunately have not read the comics, so it will be based on the show and mythology that surrounds the characters.

Warnings: Blood, violence, dead person, alcohol, consumption of blood, mentions of other TV show characters like in Good Omens, TVD, and Tom Ellis’s Lucifer along with the Sandmans Lucifer, Morpheus cause he is his own warning, eventual smut, slow burn, Hob being the best wingman, Matthew cause why not, Not really enemies to lovers but not friends to lovers, idk.

Word count: 3,932

This is a Longer Chapter

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Not my GIF

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Third person POV

The days passed since your meeting with Hob; winter arrived to lay its claim on England and engulf it in its cold embrace. What wasn’t accounted for was for the man you drained of life to come back and haunt you.

You had been so distracted by the man who spotted you that you forgot to dispose of the body; it was left to rot in the alley, with no witnesses, or so you thought. The man that you killed was found by the two other men that were with him that fateful night. His friends had received word that their friend had not returned home that night or the nights after, so they went to look for them.

They searched for their dear friend in houses, clubs, pubs, and the English court, but nothing. It was like he had disappeared into nothing. After days of searching, they decided to return to the brothel where they last saw their friend and share a pint.

But when they got there, they were greeted by an audience of people surrounding the nearby alley for a man more like his corpse was discovered. The snow did its job by covering the killer's tracks but not entirely.

The two men pushed through the crowd to see it with their own eyes. It was their dear friend or what’s left of him. The snow had preserved his body, but maggots and animals had done their job. Their friend was unrecognizable; the only way they could identify him was by the medallion on his chest, which carried his family's chest. The news spread like wildfire through England all the way to her majesty herself, Queen Elizabeth I.

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Since your arrival in England, you haven’t made any appearance in court; there has been much to take care of since you got off the ship. The ship had docked near the English and Scottish border, which wasn’t far from where your estate was. You hadn’t seen it in years, being gone for so long; it felt like a distant memory. All you could think about was going home, riding yourself, of all the worries of the past years, and feeling as though you could sleep for the next century. You paid for a horse and rode off into the night; the moon illuminated your path, under the stars, and not a care in the world for anything around you.

It’s funny, immortality, when there is no threat of death, there is no rush to live, for you know life is promised. Immortality gives a new perspective on life; some may say “it was the best thing to happen to them, while others may disagree.” For you, it was somewhere in the middle; life now seemed dull but full of possibilities, so much to do, so much to see, so much more to come, but living multiple lifetimes as you have, it feels as though you've seen and done it all. One of the downsides would have to be the hunger that comes with eternal life. The bloodlust is not for the faint of hearts, for some can’t control it; they are the ones that leave chaos in their wake, chaos that men have turned into stories. Stories that parents tell their children at night so they can go to sleep and behave.

I mean, do people really believe that Garlic and holy water will harm us? And the stories of how silver hurts us and our reflections are not seen? How do these stories come to life? If anything, they call us the boogeyman; we do not quarrel with children. There are rules we must follow, and one that every vampire knows is that we don’t kill kids. We’ll leave that to the Sandman. You were so lost in thought that when you came to, you got a face full of bird.

Where in the bloody hell did it even come from? Worst of all, you lost control of the horse and fell straight onto a man.

What in the hell is happening? You seemed to have blanked for a moment before being pushed off the man that broke your fall. “Ow” is all that could be heard. You felt as though you dislocated your shoulder; it's going to be hell to ride back like that. You sat up and cleared yourself, then looked to where a rather odd-looking man was. His skin was white as snow, hair dark as ravens, and his eyes cold as ice; they looked as though they held secrets best buried under the tides of men in forgotten cities long ago. He was mesmerizing, to say the least, but something about him told you to be careful, for he is more than what meets the eye.

To say the man was beyond shocked was an understatement; oh no, he was livid. He and his raven were just coming from the nearby village he likes to visit; he goes to see a friend (but don’t let him hear you say that, or he’ll give you a lesson on your mortality and his superiority.) When walking back from the village to the path which led to what he thought were the meadows, he too was distracted talking to the raven when suddenly there was a loud cry, and he felt a heavy weight bring him to the ground.

Everything happened so fast. Was it an attack? Who is this wretched being that thinks themselves worthy of being in his presence, let alone on top of him? He pushes the thing off and stands up immediately, ready to give this thing its punishment for this utter offense, but first, he has to check on his raven.

You slowly get up, questioning why you didn’t stay in town and wait till sunrise to go home. You slowly pop your arm back into place with a big grunt that could be heard for miles. You look to the person near your horse, who thankfully didn’t run off once you fell.

You decided to be the first to say, “What in the hell! Where did you come from? You shouldn't just walk on the road; you could get hit!” The man looked at you as if you had just killed his firstborn.

“Look, I’m sorry, mate, it’s been a long few days.” You said, mounting your horse; the man just stood there staring into your soul; it was haunting, but as the night grew darker, you knew it was time to go home. “Look, I apologize again; it was my fault for not paying attention. Just be careful, and if you go on a stroll through these parts, bring a lantern so that people can see you.” You took a pouch of gold you had and handed it to him. “This should buy you anything your heart desires and whatever else you can dream of.”

The man just stared at you, then looked at your hand, then back at you. Alright, this is enough for today. Since he didn't make a move, you let the pouch drop and rode off, continuing your trip back home, trying to brush off the way the man stared at you, which would be engraved into your memory, the stuff of nightmares really, but who are you to talk.

It took a moment for the man to collect his thoughts; I mean, how could anyone be foolish enough to attack an Endless and pay him off for it, then ride off into the horizon? Oh no, little one, he’ll make sure you pay for this, no matter what the cost is for no one, not even the devil themself, touches, let alone falls on Dream of the Endless and gets away with it. But first, Jessamy needs attending to; then, he’ll search for this mysterious rider. And with that, he put Jessamy in his coat and pulled sand from his pouch, threw it above his head until that was all that surrounded him. Gone without a trace only thing left was the pouch of gold on the cold hard ground to remind the earth of what happened.

When you finally arrived home, it felt wonderful. You put the horse in the stables and walked up to the front door; the doors opened to welcome its old keeper. It was quiet, and all that could be heard was the crackling of the fireplace echoing through the house. You closed the doors behind you and walked up the stairs to your chambers, where you changed out of your clothes into ones appropriate for sleep and climbed into bed, placed your head onto your pillow, and forget the day's memory for tomorrow; there is much to do.

Morning came; you were still in the arms of sleep when the curtains were pulled back to welcome the sun’s warm embrace. You covered your face in order to hide from the sun, but the covers were pulled. “Up now, it’s late, and you have visitors .” “Come now, sister. I’m tired from my travels; I’m allowed to sleep in. Plus, what makes you think I want to see anyone at the moment, especially you.” You said while sitting up; your sister threw a pillow at your head before getting up and heading towards the doors. “I know but hurry and get changed; I believe the Queen requests your presence in court, and it’s impolite to keep her majesty waiting!”

You let out a huff and get up. “I suppose so. Tell the visitors I will be down shortly.” You yelled from the room; your sister yelled from down the hall, “I will, but hurry, I won’t stall for your slow ares!” You quickly ran to your door and popped your head through. “At least I have one!” You quickly rushed to close the door, and she came banging on the door before leaving. You changed into a dark green blouse, dark trousers, socks, black leather knee-high boots meant for riding, and matching undergarments.

You looked in the mirror for what seemed like the first time in ages, and there you were, the same. Never growing, just the same. How it tormented you, but there was some avail, you didn’t age, 23 for thee rest of eternity, yay. Even so, you are in dire need of a haircut, maybe later. You grabbed your sword from the table and put it in the holster on your right and hid a dagger on your left side under your shirt, after you put on a dark cloak and headed towards your door, closing it behind you walking down the hall and descending the stairs.

On your way down, you could hear the laughter echoing through the house. You entered the room to see your sister and two other men sitting on the couch. “Ah, sister, finally, I was beginning to think you would never hurry.” “Yes, well, I wanted to look my best.” You said gently tilting your head towards your sword. Your sister saw it and gave you a don’t do anything stupid look. You gave her a nod while she excused herself. “As much as I have enjoyed our conversation, I must get going, I hope to see you all again!” With that, the men got up and gave your sister her farewell, as did you, and she left.

You looked at the men, and the younger of the two spoke. “It’s good to see you, Ser Drakos. You look well.” “Oh please Ser Criston Cole, no need for formalities,” you said with a smile while giving him a hug. The older man cleared his throat, and You and Cole broke the hug. “Ahh, and who might you be?”

Before the older man could speak, Ser Criston Cole spoke up, “This is Lord Baylos” “Oh my days! Lord Baylos, I didn’t recognize you without your.. Um, what did you call her again?” “Mistress,” Eyebrows raised a bit with a small nod and smug smile, “Ah yes, Mistress wrapped around your waist! How are you doing?” The older man looked bothered, but if he was, he didn’t say anything.

“I can’t complain -“ “Yet here you are.” You said, looking into the man’s eyes before speaking once more. “Enough pleasantries,” you said, looking back at the both of them “What is the reason for this visit?”

Lord Baylos spoke, “Her majesty has requested your presence at court” “That I know, but why send a Lord and a Knight when she could have easily sent a messenger? There is more! Speak!” Both men looked at each other, and Ser Cole spoke, “Much has changed since you were last here, the roads are dangerous, and the people won’t tolerate those who don’t share their faith! along with-“

“Enough!” You raised your voice, moving closer to the younger man. “I will not be insulted in my own home! yes it is true I do not share your faith nor do I share that of our Catholic nobles. But I have shown my loyalty to my Queen and her country, and it has cost me the lives of many. The lives of many of my friends! Our Queen has accepted what I worship and granted me my title. You do well to remember that!

You backed away from the young man who only nodded. “Now if there isn’t anything else that needs to be said, then I guess we should get going. We wouldn’t want to keep her majesty waiting, do we?” The men looked at each other and Lord Baylos spoke “No, we don’t.” “Very well then. Henrik!”

Henrik came to the room and awaited your command. “Henrik, could you ready some horses for us, and leave a note for my siblings. Tell them that I’ve gone to see the Queen.” “Yes of course my Lord I’ll get right to it.” He said with a small bow before leaving. You shouted a thank you and led the men out of the house and to the stables.

There was an uncomfortable silence that followed you three as you made your way to the stables. Luckily Henrik was already waiting for you with three horses at the ready.

You took the reins from Henrik and mounted the horse. Oh how you missed this, she was a wonderful Arabian horse gifted to you by a Duke who wanted your hand in marriage but after he was found guilty of treason you were allowed to keep the horse. Not like you would ever marry a man who thinks they can buy your love with gifts but the horse was a tempting offer.

You hadn’t realized that you spaced out not until Henrik spoke up “My lord, they’ve asked you a question.” You looked down to Henrik then to the men and whispered a thank you before giving the horse a little nudge so it could start moving.

The men followed this action and Ser Criston Cole repeated his question. “Your horse is a fine beauty, I’ve never seen anything like it” “Why thank you!”

“What is the horse's name?” “Her name is Nightmare” “Nightmare,” Lord Baylos repeated. “Yes, Nightmare” “Is it because she is mysterious and something many wish they could live without?” You Let out a small chuckle. “No, Lord Baylos, but that is a good answer” “Thank you,” “I named her Nightmare because you can’t really trust a dream , and she is far too loyal it be anything less.” “But Nightmares can’t be trusted either” you looked back at the younger man and gave a slight nod. “Fair enough, Ser Cole.”

You and the men were chatting for what seemed to be a while. They told you stories from when they were kids and you told stories from your travels all seemed well until you three stumbled upon a town.

From what you could tell there was much commotion coming from every corner. People buzzed about what can be none other than gossip so you three made your entrance. As you made your way through the town there were many people who looked at you and turned to speak, hushes and whispers.

You were no stranger to gossip. Everyone knew the stories that surrounded you but that’s all they were stories, no one could prove whether they were true or false and no one would dare try, for it could risk the Queen's fury and no one wanted that. So all they could do is spread stories in hopes of one of them being true.

The three of you kept galloping till Lord Baylos asked a seller what the commotion was all about. “You there!” He called to the man “Yes my lord?” “Why is everyone in a sort of frenzy? What has happened?” “You don’t know my Lord?” “Know what?” “A man was found dead in an alley outside the White horse tavern” Ser Criston Cole spoke “What!? Do they know the cause of death?” The seller replied “No not really but some say it was the work of the devil, ya poor sod was just walking passed when a creature pulled him”

This sparked your interest “ A creature? Did anyone get a look of this devil?” “No can’t say they have malady, they do say whatever it was drained the man of its life the only way they could recognize him was by the crest on his chest other than that he would have been buried with the rest of the season’s victims.”

Lord Baylos thanked the man by giving him 5 gold coins and off you guys went. “You don’t think what they say is true do you?” “What do you mean by that?” “What I mean is that, you don’t think it was the work of the devil?” Before Lord Baylos could answer Ser Coles' question you spoke. “No, I don’t think so. It’s probably the work of fanatics trying to spread fear into the hearts of people”

“Ya your probably right” all you could do was hum in return. But inside you were mentally cursing yourself. How could you be that careless and leave a body exposed. I mean you didn’t even try to get rid of the evidence, no, you left it for everyone to see.

It wasn’t long before you three arrived at the castle. You dismount your horse, and stable boys took them to the stables. There were a few British ambassadors near the entrance while nobles walked through every hall. You made your way to her majesty's throne room, where you three were announced.

You bowed before the Queen who welcomed you back with gratitude and sorrow, she knew you were close to your friends at French and Scottish court but it would never stop you from serving her majesty.

“Now Ser Drakos, it’s wonderful to have you back” “Please your majesty, you're too kind.” “Yes well there is someone I’d like you to meet he is new to court but I believe you to will be friends.” “Well if her majesty thinks so then I’ll happily and humbly agree!” You said with a smile as she walked you to a familiar looking man.

The man was having a conversation with some nobleman when Queen Elizabeth walked over they stopped their conversation to bow and the Queen spoke. “Lord Gadling, this was the woman I was talking about” He turned to look at you and you met his gaze.

Shit this was the man who you chased after.

Shit he thought this was the woman who tried not really tried but went after me.

The both of you stood there in awkward silence. When it got too much to bare, the Queen spoke up, “Do you to know each other?“ “No” was what both of you said at the same time. More confusing looks came from her majesty “No, we don’t know one another, it's just I didn’t expect her to be so tall.” Lord Gadling said while looking at you. “Well yes but she is the best swordsman anyone could have!” “Thank you, your majesty; I am flattered!” Before her majesty could say anything else one of her ladies came to give her a message so she excused herself and left you and Lord Gadling on your own.

“So you're a Knight?” With a nod, you said, “Yes, I am, and you, a Lord was it?” “Yes,” he said with a smile. “I take it that your meeting with your friend went well” “Huh? Oh yes, it did. I got there just in time with a few minutes to spare” “Good, good, good.”

Oh, kill me now! Why does small talk have to be so so uncomfortable?

“Yes, it is; he isn’t much of a talker, but I don’t mind. It’s the company that’s nice even though he did leave me for some poet.” Oh, this is interesting. “Really? Who?” “I believe he now goes by William Shakespeare” Huh, no way, Shakespeare, that man is a fraud. Not one day in his life has he had an original idea; even Crowley will tell you that. All you could do was give a small chuckle to that. “I guess your friend has bad taste on who he keeps company” “Right, thank you! Finally, someone agrees!”

You both laughed about it, and as it, quite the man spoke. “I didn’t mean to cause any harm last time we met” this made you lose your smile as you spoke. “That isn’t something we can speak of here. Maybe we can go somewhere more private?” “Oh, of course,” Lord Gadling said, looking around. “How about the gardens?” “That would be a wonderful idea. I need fresh air anyways.” “Great, shall we?”

The man extended his arm, which you took, and off to the gardens you went. You got to know each other a bit more. He told you of his friend and how they met. From what you could tell, this man, Lord Gadling, was human. How fascinating; I mean, you are human too, but it has been so long that you sometimes forget how it was to be alive.

As you and this man spoke, laughed, and shared in each other's sorrow, there was a force working against you in the shadows. The man you toppled over was planning your demise, but there was a catch “who were you?”

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A/N: Sorry this took too long, but part three should be out soon. Don't worry we'll see how Morpheus is doing but in the meantime, we have Hob/Lord Gadling company us instead.

#lord morpheus #netflix the sandman #the sandman x reader #death of the endless #dream of the endless #the endless #morpheus x fem!reader #morpheus x reader #hob gadling #lord of dreams #tvdu #tom sturridge #lucifer netflix #lucifer morningstar #ineffable husbands #crowly x aziraphale #neil gaiman #good omens

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simp-ly-writes · 3 months

Text

Chapter Six: Heavenly Stars

Can be read as a standalone: Personal Hell Series (pt.7)

Pairing: (Hazbin Hotel) Lucifer Morningstar x demon overlord!Reader

Summary: You wanted to be alone, to hatefully survive in the hole you found yourself in but when answers come knowing at your door, will you listen to their call even when it goes against everything you have established for yourself in this home?

Warnings: 4864 words, mentions of blood, gore, injury, metal health subjects, drowning, death, and emotional angst.

A/N: Apologies for the wait my Lucifer darlings! But *rubs hands together* we gain answers now.

Masterlist | Taglist | edited.

Hazbin Hotel Masterlist

The grandfather clock ticking away down the hall is the only sound found within the home besides your paint strokes against the canvas. You are multicoloured, covered in paint from head to tone in various shades and hues as you step back and observe the piece you had been working on.

How long have I been here for? You think to yourself, muscles sore as you stand and move to get a new cup of water for your paint brushes. Since your time in the Gardens and you haven’t been able to sleep since, you cringe while catching a glimpse of your reflection in a window. The usual ringing in your head was all long gone from your past days without rest now your body feeling more energized than ever as you kept yourself busy with old hobbies in this newfound time.

The sink whines open, a few droplets drip once you close the tap and find your way back to the balcony, overlooking hell's outer rings. That once cure you had found eons ago had come to fruition, now a vast scape of rolling hills and mature trees breathed with life as you felt jealousy stir within your bones, outlining another tree to your composition. Only accompanied by seemingly endless amounts of time, you felt more and more lost in this old and empty house. As if being sat with your old self that stared you down through each object left for dead in this place. It was equally comforting, being near death’s door again, that old self, but that cold loneliness haunted you more than the screams that plagued the back of your mind.

Just know that when you wish to dream- you will find me here… waiting. Shaking your head of these thoughts you pack up your supplies and go to the kitchen in search of sustenance. A bowl of pristine red apples glowed in your face, begging for attention, for you to take a bite as you stuck your head into the cabinets and finished out the supplies to make a fresh loaf of bread.

In between paintings and trying your hand with an old shotgun to hunt for food, you would be found harvesting the overgrown crops of your greenhouse. It felt connecting, taking the time to watch your harvest grow, you had forgotten the wait, the patience of it all in recent times, just observing before going in for the grab. You had started journaling once more, keeping track of your sanity, allowing yourself the possible freedom of finally letting it all go….

You wipe the sweat from your forehead, setting the bread to rest on the windowsill as you look out towards Heaven and its sun-like quality in the red sky. You still do not feel tired, the wood of the structure groans, begging for you to rest like a casket but you clutch at the walls, silent tears falling but you cannot escape. You are forced awake, you cannot dare to dream of a life outside of this, finding yourself wearing the same clothes, his jacket resting against your body, a ghost of a hug that has your heart aching no more than your desire to finally burn that bridge for good.

His voice haunts you. You can imagine his comforting words, his touch, the ghost of his breath falling upon your neck as your hands trail the various seams and buttons along the coat. You do not realise yourself to be smiling through these tears. You do not know yourself to be in the right or wrong- just horridly conflicted with past and present, vice and virtue. Morality calls to not be in vain, you grip your hair, immortality is a silent scream much to your own, crying out for you to be more. I just can’t seem to find a place to start…

After an awkward call to heaven, Lucifer leaves the hotel with a seedling of hope that has yet to be watered. A few guards bow to him as he passes down the mirrored maze of hallways and never ending staircases towards your office where he throws himself to the floor. His breathing is ragged, he watches possible futures flicker through his eyes. Blood and tears mix between songs as he brings his knees up to his chin.

Throwing off his hat, he listens as the gold of his crown scrapes against the hardwood floors before the snake slithers its way over to him, wrapping its way around his throat, he reaches upwards to it, begging for it to release as his body directs him towards the shattered crown before him. He shakes his head, boots scraping against the floors as voices yell out from behind the closed doors.

In a few hours, Charlie will be in Heaven, in another few days, your general will still not be there, The King thinks to himself as he cries, forcing himself to stand and lean against your desk as his hands grasp over the various maps and journals. The snake slowly lessens its grip as he takes in deep breaths, trembling fingers drifting over your handwriting.

He feels pathetic, smaller than he knows himself to appear. His mind keeps flickering to those last few moments with you, holding your hand, voicing his love for you to only watch you disappear and be set with the ghosts of you in these rooms and down these halls. He swears to hear your feet are running up to him with grand news or a mere correction to the weather report but nevertheless he ears strain to remember you voicing his name once again- to know that you call out to him. Yet he fails to dream any further as he sips cold tea and places signature after signature on the various reports left unfilled.

A tapping at the window has you falling off the couch as your hands feel under the coffee table for your shotgun. Bringing the handle up to your chest, you stalk your way around the archway and make haste towards your front door. Looking through the peep-hole, not a single soul is present- your shoulders only tense as you raise the barrel and twist the door handle. Rushing outside as you check every corner only to hear a squawk, eyes darting downwards to see a Raven dancing its way from being stepped on by your black boots.

“Shit,” you whisper to yourself, the bird flies up, resting on the barrel as it presents a wax-sealed envelope with your name written in glitter. Shaking your head, the raven transitions itself onto your shoulder as you take the letter from its beak and drop your gun on the coffee table once more, knocking over a stale cup of coffee as it stains the recent newspaper you snuck out to steal from the nearest village.

The bird chirps in your ear, presenting its neck for a scratch as its wings flutter happily to your physical praise. Filling a bowl with water, you tip your shoulder down to the counter and watch as the raven dips itself inside and takes a drip. Ripping open the letter using a claw, your fingers trace over the Princesses signature, resembling much of the same qualities of her father. A common pattern of letters that you forged oh so many times in Hell's past.

Your eyes drift over the shaken handwriting as concern etches its way into each wrinkle upon your face. The paper is stained with tears and a droplet of golden blood that has you seeing red- motherfuckers, you spit out, flipping to the next side that houses a simple request. “...I don’t know where else to go, but I need to be away from everyone, could I come stay with you?”

Obvious wear of the page signifies that this sentence had been scrapped and rewritten a multitude of times as you hum out in thought. You saw echoes of yourself in her words and actions, taking the chance to run for a moment, to find freedom from all the decisions that wear a person down overtime. The raven’s eyes pearce through your own that have started to shimmer a yellow hue in the moonlight. You rip a page from one of your journals, listing a simple yes with a request that the bird be the only one who shows her the way here.

You open the kitchen window, watching as the bird flies up, becoming a mere black speck in the bloodied sky as you lean against the counter, observing your home and omitting a sigh, looking down to your hands. With a singular clap you listen as each scattered object finds its place upon shelves or in the sink beside you. Shoes walk their way towards the closet as your shotgun polishes itself back into its display. Small golden specks flicker and fall towards the floor, lost without a trace alongside the dust between the floorboards, the magic you used now settled as your blood becomes warm- happy that you made use of it.

You can only roll your shoulder, the jacket appearing to dwarf over your frame as you shimmy it off, resting it against the back of the couch as you make your way upstairs, fighting mentally to come up with a nice outfit to greet the Princess with- Charlie with, your brain corrects you. Hands fly to button up a new shirt as you iron your pants and choose a clean pair of workboots and gloves. You bring up a bottle of wine from the cellar, eyeing the date with a laugh, gods I really am ancient. You think to yourself, this bottle was practically double Charlie's age and you could only reminisce of the sentences Husk would string together at the mere mention of such a luxury bottle of liquor.

Popping off the lid, you lean your head back on the white jacket, an arm falling onto your shoulder as you swirl your glass, watching as the liquid falls from the walls, clashing back into itself. You can imagine these waves roaring, clashing and becoming one in the end- a pointless battle in the grand scheme of things to only be interrupted by the ringing of a doorbell as a distressed blonde collapses into your arms, their black mascara staining your fresh white gloves as you cradle their head.

Charlie's glossy red eyes peer into your own as you still, at a loss for words. You had never seen Charlie so down, so utterly miserable as you squeezed the girl that bit harder and picked her up. Flicking your hand for the door to be closed behind you both and led her towards your living space. She looks up as you place her on the couch, conjuring a fresh plate of tea as you extend your hand, offering physical support as she latches on, nails digging into your palm as she sobs out, tears and snot choking her next words as you lean in to hear better.

“I-I was so excited and then… it all goes to shit. I should have listened to everyone, to you, my dad… my mother…” You open your mouth, about to comment before she continues, eyeing up your glass of wine. “I understand the pain my father went through, now more than ever.”

“Charlie…” you breathe out in concern as you pull the hair from her tear stained cheeks, offering her your handkerchief as she dabs her eyes, looking up towards your vaulted ceilings. “I should have never gone to heaven, held these ‘loft dreams,’” she quotes in her fingers, dropping your hand as she exhales frustration, going to grip her hair, head falling between her knees. “I wanted so much then and now I feel the consequences. Vaggie is not the person I knew her to be- she's an angel and to even think that I admired heaven when these are the tricks they pull!”

“Charlie-I-”

“No! It's not fair, and now that motherfucker Adam!”

“Language,“ you state as Charlie flips you the finger, “okay dad/mom,” she states back, picking up her head and showcasing an eye roll as you pull her closer to you, resting her head under your own as you breeze past the title. “I remember Adam,” you state as Charlie looks up at you curiously, “did he declare to come and kill you first too?”

“Actually-” you start to say while scanning through your memories.

“You’re joking,” Charlie deadpans just as you shrug your shoulders. The Princesses face falls again soon after as she picks at her nail polish, “I am just as bad as the cruelest list of overlords in hell-”

“No you are not!’ you stand, anger filling your voice as shadows soon emerge from the floorboards before you gain a hold of yourself witnessing the terror starting to rise in Charlie's eyes as you drop to your knees and apologise. “You are not cruel Charlie, you are kind as you are strong. Any overlord in hell… misses those feats,” you state, wrapping her fathers jacket around her frame and pressing a cup of tea into her hands.

“Now I know better than anyone that all these thoughts lead to nothing but more self wallowing,” you say, taking a sip of your drink before leaning against the arm of the couch opposite of Charlie as she raises an eyebrow.

“Isn’t that why you are here?” Charlie questions, sneaking a sip of your wine with a small smile starting to form, knowing she caught you there. “Well as I have stated before, you are better than me in many ways,” you retort, shifting the fabric of your shirt to position itself on your elbows as you lean down to pick up a tea cup.

Charlie laughs out softly, a ping of pride emanates from your chest in managing to cheer her up slightly yet both of your positive reactions soon fall as you summon forth your spear, horns growing out of the top of your head and through your healing hair with the information she presents you. “But that is all besides the point, I need people to fight this battle with me, I need you and I have already made deals-”

“YOU DID WHAT?!” you coldly ask, head tilting, your eyes now slits as you demand answers from the princess. Rank falling from any traditions you held, even with her fathers coat on, you stand at nothing but their utmost safety, even when it comes with disrespect to their pride filled backgrounds. “I made a deal with… well more like through Alastor. He said that I could only accept when I was sleeping so I got him to put me to sleep before coming over to you,” her words come out in waterfalls, spewing at a gallon a minute while you stab a hole into your floors as she continues her story. “A-and I was put in this space with water and a guy who looked a lot like my dad, but he wore these white clothes and called himself the Creator out of all things- I mean I have seen god and god is not him I shall have you know, anyways I-”

“Woah, woah, woah, WAIT!” You comment, racking your brain as horror coats your features, your spear clashing against the floor as you place your hands on her cheeks, moving her eyes to your own as you ensure the seriousness of your next question, “You have met THE god?”

“He was there for my birth and well… the day of your death. I was too young to remember anymore, you would have to ask dad but…” Charlie conines to ramble, you fade out of reality, feeling your socks becoming yet, clouds flickering in Hell's skies before you drop your hands from her face and grip your head with stress. Becoming out of breath, Charlie soon slows her speech as you pick up on what she has to say once more, “...so I made the deal and now I owe him my dreams till Adam is dead.” She finishes as you grip the back of the couch, eyes starting past her head and into the kitchen window where heaven sits gleaming mockingly in your face.

“I think it's time for you to catch some rest, I will be there with you in a moment… there's a few words I wish to share with your dealmaker,” you state with vice as Charlie swallows, nodding her head a few times just as the raven flies in through the still opened window, staring between the two of you before making your way upstairs and showing her to your guest room. Charlie clicks her hands together, suitcase flying its way into the room and on her bed as she yawns out, “thank you for letting me stay here,” she says in a small voice while looking down at her feet.

“Thank you for coming to me when things like this happen,” you reply, pulling her in for one last hug just before you exit your room, once hearing the door close, you exhale a soft breath, a hand of your own trails from your waist, upwards you chest and rests upon your neck- grazing over the golden scar. You step towards your room, hands moving over your journals as you recount each conversation, preparing yourself to enter the dreamworld once again.

You walk towards your washroom and run a bathtub, knowing you would be unable to sleep in normal ways. Your breath hitches as the tap squeals shut, the bird now taps rapidly against the glass window above your head, beckoning to be let in just as you undress, submerging toes to shoulders in water. You watch the water ripple to intake your form, your hands begin to float in the water as you gradually sink your back deeping into the warm waters.

Snapping your fingers, bubbles fill the tub, flying off towards the window, gleaming in Heaven's light, creating the only natural rainbows to be found in hell. Water now just up to your chin, you take in one last small breath before submerging your head. Your body unconsciously kicks, trying to force more air into your system but you stay, your feet twitch, your lungs scream and just as your nails ding into your skin and a droplet of pain enters your system- you are transported to the otherside.

Your body is wrapped in fine cloth garments, silver patterns are sewn into the fabric in waving lines as you stand at the foot of a bed that houses a sleeping Charlie. You start to move to the side of the bed, raising your hand, just hovering over to tuck her in just as a hand is placed on your shoulder. You stand back upright in an instant, hand dropping and becoming covered in your robes once more as you face forward. Staring off into the horizon as sunlight fades and blues arise from the sea, coating the sky.

Greetings, the deity calls to you, you feel the warmth of their breath on your skin as it crawls into your ear, making a home in your senses as you become senseless to their powers taking over your form just as the last. Why have you come to the Creator on this fine evening? A smile starts to form across their features, their rosy cheeks taking over your eyes as they expand to hold every pointed tooth in your eyes.

Why speak, why even think if you already know the answer? You strike back, a hand of theirs now drifting from your shoulder down to your back as they lead you away from Charlie, your feet moving on their own as they spread the very water before you and towards a tea set primed for the occasion. A singular snake following in your robes, teeth latching on to a sleeve as it becomes lost under the waters. You feel its tug but cannot look back as you take your seat beside the deity, their hand now on your knee as they pat it thrice in contemplation.

Where is the fun, immoral one when another can already speak for me? You roll your eyes in response as the snake now catches the corner of your eye. Its white scales disappear in your garments but hiss towards the man beside you, warning of what you have yet to discover. A question for a question, both never to be answered, you say, gaining control of your head the longer you sit in the waters. The deity still faces forwards, watching Charlie breath, your heart slows realizing the water had been rising but you kept on breathing.

A choking sound can be heard, you feel yourself thrashing in the bathtub just as Charlie emits a silent scream in her dreams. Stop this, you state, the snake now slithering to rest its head in your hand as your knees begin to shake, you have to stand but their hand still rests on your knee. Their eyes flicker to gold coins, a scoff coming up from the back of their throat. It does not serve you well to beg, dearest, they tut out towards you just as your body shakes in anger.

You will stop this cruelty this instant, she is young, unknowing in many of the wicked ways we have lived through. You speak, starting to stand, pushing up against the currents as fish swim around our eyes, finns swatting in your face. And just how would you know what I have lived through? They deity questions.

How do you know yourself to be the Creator when Creation itself happened to make you? You question back, their head tips over to you, neck cracking as the night had finally come, the once rosy pinks and orange waters now rich blues mistaken to be black and soulless. Bubbles rise when they laugh, they create waves as Charlie uses these air pockets to breathe. Her arms reach out to you even when she is unable to open her eyes. Her fingers flex and bend in search of comfort and you become distracted. The snake bites into your skin as you hiss out in pain, droplets of gold now rising towards the unseen surface, it glimmers in contrast to the depths of the ocean.

The snake bites you again, more droplets emerge as they rise above your head and they sliver away with them. Looking upwards, you watch as the snake curls into itself before bursting into the brightest light yet, the supposed god cowers in the display. You take a deep breath in at the sight of the patterns that your blood has created in the darkness you once emerged from. Constellations shown from earth's surface come into view, Orion’s sword and shield fall from the sky and into your hands as you slam the two together. The deity flies backwards from the impulse as you sprint before extending your legs, jumping and crashing into their awaiting fists as the water parts, Charlie falling behind you as she chokes up water.

Her eyes open, she screams out in warning as the brother rushes up to you, clouds now battle axes as each connection of blades groans on impact. Your muscles ache, your lungs filled with frustration as you fight. Blood drips from their teeth, your smirk seeing their pain as Charlie stands back in horror seeing you so far removed from yourself. She thinks back to the tales her father told her, the depictions of the townsfolk when their version of self emerged in protection of her mother, her father, and now… her.

Charlie ducks as an axe swings over her head, she watches as your back dips, the blade caressing your chin just as you kick his knee, making him tumble for balance as you place a cut to his arm and later to his chest. Gold pours out in vats as you cry out, cutting through fabric and skin down to bone. Exposing the dead-skin that laid underneath yet you paid no mind to it, even when an emptied hand came to hold your chin as your blade rests under their own.

You are stunning like this dearest, a true waking dream, their last word echoing as the sky crashes down upon you, sun rises and drying any trace as the ground begins to crack- a desert forming in response to your aching bones as they lay before you, barely able to move. Charlie views the grey skin you had unleashed to the sky, it is a mere replica of the ground she now walks upon, removed of any prior life as fish flap around helplessly at her feet.

You continuously speak about creations, fate, and now dreams. What are you, for the only object I see now is failure before me. Their eyes close, basking in the light rays just before golden eyes sparkle on their own. They do not show any greed, and promise for truth yet their lips move on their behalf, “I am the spirit of dreams, a heavy branch from the father himself. I twist fate in the most gorgeous of affairs, I bend time on a whim just as I destroy. I can revoke happiness, I can tempt death, I can so I do… until now, until you…”

Your blade still holds strong against their throat, itching to make the same cursed line to match your own, their hand still rests upon your face, that once comforting feeling now a hollowed caress as they hum out peacefully in thought of their next words. “I have called myself the Creator so as to not confuse you with the many renditions you were before this. We have had a long relationship, a changing one two, you were once my greatest friend, a confidant and even lover…”

A sickness plagues your mind, you don’t recognise the plethora of visions that coat your memory, not feel as your blade shatters against the ground as Charlie moves to hug you, pleading for your return as you stare lifelessly off into the horizon.

You wake in a distant memory. You find yourself in similar robes as you walk along the cosmos, galaxies are your furnishing as they are your being, you drift between them with grace as the stars twinkle and black holes bend to make way for your presence. A hand emerges from the darkened veil of space, a white glove pulls you through and into a home lost to time as a grandfather clock ticks in the background, the hands left unchanging yet it sounds just the same. Teeth smile into your neck, their hands on your waist as you drift between one another and you awake once more.

“NO…” you state, coming back to cruel realities as you hold Charlie's head, comforting the girl by unknotting her hair with your claws as you yourself need to be grounded in some semblance of the current life you live. “Your greatest dream was to always have more time, dearest and I could never deny you of anything in my power. I paused the clocks as long as I could before father came knocking at my door and when the earth went to dream again, I didn't have you to join me. In this all, I had yet to discover my hatred for my brother truly, it was only when I saw you with that ‘King of Hell…’” he speaks the table to such spite as his wounds begin to heal and he stands to full height, hands extended towards you as Charlie blocks their touch with her body. “...I grew that hatred, that jealousy and revoked his dreams. I pleaded for your return and even when I received it… Lucifer always found a way to claw you back into hell, he gave you that extra time when I was unable to...”

“You twist your words…” you say, shaking your head in disbelief as the Spirit of Dreams smile fades to that of a smaller one as their hands drop. “Only when I must, but now I see that there is no longer a need for me to do so,” they say as their eyes drift over Charlie's blonde hair.

Your eyes begin to feel drowsy as you emit a yawn, feeling exhausted for the first time in weeks and cannot help but feel giddy at the feeling. You watched relaxed as his robes drift off like clouds in the sky once more as a sunset rises from behind you all, an array of reds reminding you of Hell. They chuckle out lightly, their eyes flickering knowingly to your current state as they speak in mere whispers, your eyes fluttering closed. “You are due to wake up any moment now dearest.”

He nods once towards Charlie, her eyes soon closing once again as she lets out a peaceful sigh, resting on your shoulder. “I am sorry for not dreaming enough for the two of us…” You shake your head at this, starting to fall slowly back into the tub as their voice softly shuts closed their domain.

Hazbin Hotel Masterlist

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writeshite · 2 years

Note

Hi! Would it be possible to see more of the Fallen Angel/son of Lucifer character with Morpheus?? Their dynamic is stellar!

Dream Not Of The Morning

Summary:

“You look horrid.” It’s early morning, well you assume it is, judging by how grouchy Morpheus seems waking up. His face remains stubbornly tucked away from the outside light; you stretch your wings, arms still wrapped around your lover, and chuckle at his resolve to stay in bed.

Pairings:

Morpheus x Male!Reader

Tags:

Fallen Angel!Reader | Fluff

Words: 832

Author's Note:

I had no direction for their dynamic in the original fic, but glad to see you enjoy it.

“You look horrid.”

It’s early morning, well you assume it is, judging by how grouchy Morpheus seems waking up. His face remains stubbornly tucked away from the outside light; you stretch your wings, arms still wrapped around your lover, and chuckle at his resolve to stay in bed.

“You tend to have the effect on people,” he mumbles. You spread your wings, and the feathers part to allow the light to shine on his face; he just burrows closer to you, turning his head into the pillows. “Do be a dear and cuddle me, will you?”

You grin, moving to lie on your back; you drag him atop you, staring up into the endless dark of his eyes; they’re half-lidded, portraying mock irritation at having been moved from a comfortable position. He places his arms on your chest, crossed over each other as his head looks up; his hair is unkempt, skewed in the various directions you pulled it last night. “Hellborne of the Morningstar, would you be so kind as to allow me another hour of blissful sleep?” he quips.

You pretend to ponder the question, lips pursed, “Perhaps for a kiss,” you respond, “I might consider giving you peace of mind.” You pucker your lips, and he rolls his eyes; leaning forward, he pecks your lips, but you scrunch up your face. “One more?” He repeats the action, and you ask for another kiss, leading him into soft brief kisses exchanged lazily as his fingers thread through your tangled feathers. “I do so enjoy the taste of you,” you mutter on his lips.

Morpheus grins in response, “What do I taste of?”

“Stars,” you begin, shifting to sit up; you bring him to sit between your legs, holding him close as you trace your hands on his arms, “the endless expanse of nothingness and forever. You leave wonder in my mind, and every touch,” you kiss his hand, “brings me that and more.”

“Poetic this morning, aren’t we?”

“A consequence of being around your wretched self,” you stick your tongue out, and he pushes your head away with a laugh.

Your mother had once said hell would freeze over before she’d ever allow Morpheus to so much as grace your presence, and you took that as a challenge - freezing one of the circles yourself, with the same mischievous smile she was familiar with before announcing the fact that you’d defiled Morpheus in one of your grandfather’s holy houses. “I’m not sure if I should be angry or impressed.”

“I’d choose both; after all, what else would you expect from the son of the Morningstar?”

You chuckled to yourself, drawing Morpheus from his half-dozed state, “What amuses you?”

“Nothing of importance,” you replied, “Should we join Lucienne for breakfast?”

Morpheus shook his head, “I’ll never understand your obsession with eating; it’s hardly necessary,” he complains, yet follows suit when you move from the bed, slipping on one of his dark robes; he threads your fingers together, folding one of your wings closer to his side.

“Well, my dream, some of us do so enjoy the taste of human delicacies,” you tell him. The stairs shift from sand to solid stone as you trek down, the ceiling of his castle opens to allow light inside, and you find Lucienne dining with Death - the other endless rushes towards you when you enter, a smile on her face as she greets you.

“It’s been too long,” she said, “I hope Dream hasn’t been keeping you all to himself all this time.”

“Unfortunately so, he’s rather selfish for my attention,” you whisper not so subtly, earning yourself an elbow from Morpheus and laughing from Death and Lucienne.

A tray display of scones and various treats are on the table; jam, tea, and sugar are there as well; Lucienne has a book open and nibbles on one of the pastries. You join them for breakfast, dragging Morpheus to sit beside you as you catch up with Death, “I see you’ve gotten a lot closer since the last time I saw the two of you,” she comments.

Lucienne scoffs, “I’d say.”

Morpheus squints his eyes at her, and she shrugs. You converse lightly, but even a prince of hell must return to his duties sooner or later; this is evident when a hellhound treks its way into the castle - fire and brimstone trialing after, it deposits a scorched piece of parchment on your lap, then sits, tail wagging as it waits. Morpheus tries not to pout when you stand to leave, “Come now, sweet dream, no need to frown,” you tell him, cupping his face; you kiss his nose, “I’ll return to bother you soon enough.” You peck his lips, tilting his head to the side; you only part when the hellhound drags you by your cloth, teeth sinking into your pants.

You wave goodbye to Lucienne and Death, wings spread, you step out the door and ascend, leaving a trail of feathers and a dopey Morpheus.

End Note:

Morpheus joins my long list of fictional characters that have captured my heart. Stay Hydrated.

#morpheus x male reader #morpheus x reader #dream x male reader #dream x reader #the sandman imagine #shiterequests

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