#fallout morpheus

[happykraut]

"Morpheus is intelligent, crafty, sly, greasy, and thoroughly evil, ensnared by the promise of power rather than by belief. He has a short fuse and a terrible anger, which make him an extremely dangerous individual."

The game talks alot about Morpheus giving sermons which you sadly do not see ingame, instead, I made this artwork for it.

#fanart #my artwork #fallout #fallout 1 #children of the cathedral #fallout classic #fallout art #fallout the unity #fallout morpheus #morpheus fallout

[mensajeroseis]

morpheus, dorpheus, orpheus. orifices, porridges

#scribble #fallout 1 #morpheus fo1 #children of the cathedral #robes inspired by schema monks

[rphunter]

hello! I made one of these a bit ago and decided to do another round! :D

MxM RPs only please ♡

20 looking for 20+, semi lit my responses will match yours but please no short replies :)

ocXoc ocXcanon canonXcanon!

-fandoms!-

Baldur's Gate Three, The Sandman, Cyberpunk 2077, Fallout 4, Skyrim, Call of Duty, open to others if I know a decent amount! and love our own universes ♡

loves:

omega verse, vampires, werewolves, mythology in general, found family, fluff, angst, romance, and probably more I can't recall haha.

sexual and dark content likely but not needed.

limits:

I'm open to most topics but please discuss them with me before hand! don't just drop stuff on me haha. my absolute NO's are: organic waste kinks, ddlg or sexual caretaker couples, incest, bestiality, underage.

just msg if you're interested :D have a good day!

.

#morpheus 7 #baldurs gate three roleplay #the sandman roleplay #cyberpunk 2077 roleplay #fallout 4 roleplay #skyrim roleplay #call of duty roleplay #baldurs gate three rp #the sandman rp #cyberpunk 2077 rp #fallout 4 rp #skyrim rp #call of duty rp

[thefalloutwiki]

Pictured: 1995 character concept art by Scott Campbell. Morpheus has text around his hood that reads "Drink more Ovaltine" and "Milk, it does a body good."

You can read more about Scott Campbell and his work here

#Fallout #Fallout 1 #concept art #Morpheus #Vinnie #Grunge #Gizmo #Atraris #Hope #Razlo #Garl #Razor #Rake #Concept art #fallout concept art #scott campbell #fallout wiki

[aboxthecolourofheartache]

The real question is why has no one tapped into the rich vein of batshit that would be a Sandman/Elric of Melnibone mashup?  Are we just not brave enough?  Is it just too painfully pulp science-fantasy?  Has no one else read the Elric books, taken exactly one look at the Sandman comics, and then Had Thoughts?  Holy beautifully executed nods to a preceding influential work, Batman!

#you can't tell me Morpheus and Elric haven't encountered each other in the multiverse #in some distant iteration of the world they probably climbed into bed together #and it was catastrophic for everyone in a five universe radius #just the WORST fallout #the dreaming realm #I'm going to have to write it myself aren't I #goddamnit #are the Elric books Problematic? Yes. Just like. Yeah. #but they are also Fun #and highly influential

[aod4909]

I think I’ll pick him because no one else did Y_Y

#fallout #fallout 4 #fo4 #sole survivor #N. J. Morpheus Stigen #sosu: N.J.M. Stigen

[ginoeh]

Dream’s Coat (TM), pretty please??

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

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

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

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

~~~

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

(Snippets and more details under the cut)

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

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

And falls and falls and falls. 

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

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

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

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

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

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

But as time passes, he does not. 

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

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

Until, suddenly, he isn't.

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

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

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

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

***

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

He opens his eyes. 

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

“Oh, Dream.” 

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

“How shall I -” His words fail him.

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

~~~

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

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

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

[elena-mayfair]

The Lost Witch Sleep and the Morpheus Grace

Series masterlist

Paring: Morpheus x f!reader, Sandman x f!reader Warnings: swearing, horror images, graphic violence, possible triggers, adult themes, reader discretion is advised Summary: It all began with a Witch who dreamt nightmares every night. At the end of each and every one of them she ended up in the Dreaming and she saw him, standing in the distance, overseeing his land. But one night, one night he saw her...and that is how their story has begun. What will Dream of the Endless and sassy Witch discover on a journey through fears and nightmares? Can two damaged beings learn how to dream again? Or will darkness and nightmares consume it all... Word count: 97k Completed Note: Gifs used in posts are not mine. Credit and my gratitude to the authors.

Part one: Lost in the dream

Part two: Back in the dream

Part three: Through the Dreaming

Part four: In the Waking World

Part five: Before the Nightmare

Part six: Through the Nightmare

Part seven: Through Hell

Part eight: Through darkness towards...

Part nine: Consequences

Part ten: Raging storm

Part eleven: Fallout

Part twelve: Living Nightmare

Part thirteen: Daring to dream

Part fourteen: Dream

Part fifteen: One with the Dream

Part sixteen: Dreams that came true

Part seventeen: Letting go

Part eighteen: The horror and the ruin - Part 1

Part nineteen: The horror and the ruin - Part 2

Part twenty: The Calling

Endless Dream - Epilogue

~~***~~

Tag list: @mycrazyfandom @unavoidabledirewolf @calicoevening72 @uzumaki-mj @thegreatestsandwich @parabatai-winchester @munsonmunster @consistentreader578 @jupiterclipse @fangirlmary @clown-princesa @galaxypox @dilfsandtherapy @kc-265 @midnxghtblue @sallysal9 @0shippingtrashaway0 @lu123sworld @octo-octopie @asmallhobbitruinedmylife @xxbeckybeexx-blog @jesllianaquilesrolon @dollfaceyourfear @shaewithyou @heavenmaycare @moon-enthusiast @home-of-disaster @xmxrfx @missnightingale1971 @lilfoxyqueensworld @fate-huntress @bionic-donut @kaifloof @mischiefmanaged71 @beakami @mm2305 @redbircl @floatingintheupsidedown @chaoticmessneutralplease

@goingwiththewind @sapphireonline @thecrazytealady @hedwigprewett12 @mikariell95 @asianfrustration13 @seninjakitey @boofy1998 @killerqueen-ofwillowgreen @22carolina08 @aurorarevenclaw1927

~~***~~

#morpheus x reader #sandman x reader #dream of the endless #the sandman x reader #the sandman #Morpheus imagines #the sandman imagine #Morpheus x you #Morpheus fanfiction #Morpheus fic

[besthimbomachine]

my love when it counted. 06

summary: In the morning after the party, both Kenny and you have to deal with the fallout of hat happened the previous night. Through the confusion of all that happened, fate opens a door for Kenny, and he knows it might be his only chance to properly apologize for the things he did. As if this wasn't tense enough, the situation forces him into a heavy realization. pairing: kenny omega x reader word count: 8617 warning: there are varying levels of angst in this one, but I think it stays more in the bittersweet part of the angst sepectrum yet another another chonkster here. I worked really hard to get this out as soon as I could and I hope yall enjoy it. This one will have a bit of angst, but I think it's bearable. It also has another Nick cameo!!! Anyways, I have way more I'd like to say but I need yall to read it first so pleeeease leave me your feedback. I hope you all enjoy it, we are at the midway point in the story. Should be a few more chapters to the end, just can't give you a sure number.

06.

Kenny’s mind is still hazy when he starts hearing the constant and annoying sound of something buzzing. It rings loud through his head, insistent and so fucking irritating that it feels almost painful. The damn noise feels like torture and he is forced to open his tired eyes, letting the light of the morning engulf him. Groaning, he looks around, the sound never stopping as he looks for its source. Finally finding the culprit, Kenny stretches a hand and with a pained movement he snatches up the ringing phone.

“You still sleeping there, buddy?” Nick's booming voice reaches through the speaker, jolting Kenny back into the waking world. “I’m at your house, man, just parked right now.”

“Shit,” Kenny mutters under his breath, rubbing his eyes to try and shake off some of the sleep still clinging to his brain, “yeah Nick, let me just get up, give me a couple minutes and I’ll be at the door.”

“Sure thing,” Nick replies before shutting off the call.

Kenny lays still for a second, body heavy like an anchor as he stares at the empty ceiling before sitting up in one labored motion, a groan escaping his lips. Getting up with difficulty, he starts to make his path to the front door, trying to force himself awake along the way. He could feel his entire body hurt, muscles aching after a long and hard night. Sleep had evaded him for a painful while, and when it finally came, it didn’t feel that restful. He tossed and turned under the covers, mind plagued by dreams of things that were, and ones that were not meant to be.

So, in a sense, Nick’s call was a blessing, pulling him from Morpheus’ unwelcoming grasp. At least in the waking world, he was only at the mercy of reality. No matter how tired he felt, laying in bed just wasn’t helping, now maybe by the end of the day exhaustion would allow Kenny to sleep better. And just to make sure, after all of this was done with, he’d hit the gym and work himself to the bone, push until his eyes just couldn't stay open and hope for a dreamless night.

Getting to the door, Kenny shook his head, tying back his hair and blinking rapidly to shake what was left of sleep in him. Opening the door, he found Nick standing there with a smile, greeting him with a nod as he squinted at the sunlight outside. Nick himself seemed unaffected by the glaring light, or by how late his evening had run, returning Kenny’s greeting with a lively tone as they made their way to the kitchen. If someone looked at him, they wouldn’t be able to tell how long his night had been, and whatever witchcraft Nick was pulling for that was a mystery to Kenny.

“What time is it now?” Kenny asked in a grunt as he sat at the kitchen counter, voice still rough from sleep.

“About nine thirty,” Nick replied, glancing at his phone and resting his side against the counter, but not taking a seat.

“And when did you leave the party yesterday?” Kenny asked, resting his arm on the marble.

“Hmm, probably something after two,” he answered with a shrug.

“Two in the morning,” Kenny muttered to himself in disbelief, looking at the stone counter for a second before turning back to Nick, “and how the hell are you so chipper this early?”

“Some of us just aren’t old,” Nick laughed, shooting Kenny a mischievous grin before he placed a black shoulder bag on top of the counter. “Anyway, here are her things, documents and room card are all there, I checked. Is she awake? How bad was the situation?”

“Well, you woke me up and there is no other sign of life around, so,” Kenny trailed off with a shrug, voice slowly returning to normal as he spoke. “And she was mostly ok, not drunk enough to be throwing up at least, the real problem was that ankle. It was looking pretty awful yesterday, she is gonna need a brace and a couple weeks off by the look of it.”

“Shit,” Nick grimaced at the words, lips pushed into a thin line as he took in the news. “Let’s hope it’s just that then,” there was a moment's pause before he continued, brows furrowing as his inquisitive eyes found Kenny. “Now tell me, how the hell did you get involved in all this?”

“Nick,” Kenny sat still for a second, blinking rapidly as he straightened on his chair, “I told you on the messages, I found her and helped her out.”

“Listen,” Nick started, taking a deep breath as he looked deep into Kenny’s eyes, “last I saw her, you were at one part of the party and she was at a whole other. With Adam,” he paused for a moment, and Kenny felt those inquisitive eyes trying to read his reaction, the air feeling tense as he tried to hold the muscles in his face from twitching at the name. “And I know you knew that too, Matt told me.”

With a deep breath, Kenny shook his head, a few soft curls coming loose with the movement. Matt knew his problems with Adam back in Japan, he knew how jealous he felt back when you two were dating, and of course Nick knew it too. You and him had been close friends for years, it only made sense. And Matt now had clearly told his brother one thing or two about what he’d seen of Kenny at the party.

“Adam was very drunk,” he said slowly, trying his best to keep his voice in a calm and even tone, “he wasn’t going to be of any help.”

“I know this much, I saw Adam,” his answer came with a shrug, eyebrows raising as Nick leaned forward, coming closer to Kenny. “I just wanna know how, of all people, she ended up with you.”

“Look, I told you,” Kenny was starting to get exasperated at this point, running a hand through his hair as he tried to explain again what he’d already explained in his messages, “I found her in the hallway. I was about to leave the party when I saw her stumbling in. I knew she had a twisted ankle, so I tried to help her.”

“And she just let you help her, just like that?” Nick interrupted him, flicking one hand in the air as the other propped him against the stone counter.

“No,” Kenny groaned out, rolling his eyes and taking a deep breath to calm his nerves, his exhaustion was making him confused, but he was trying not to let it get the best of him. “It took some convincing, but she accepted and now we are here. Not the best situation, but what did you want me to do?”

Kenny shrugged and there was a pause between the two of them. Nick’s eyes regarding him with a look he couldn’t exactly read. Although, Kenny could imagine that in Nick’s head this whole situation sounded wild. By the nature of your relationship, he knew the man would have heard about the worst parts of your break up, and the worst feelings you had for him. Different from Matt, Nick never made a move to try and help you two patch things up, and he could guess why.

“Cool, you did the right thing man,” Nick smiled, closing the distance and throwing an arm around Kenny’s shoulder, pulling him into a tight embrace. “I’m glad she had you by her side, man. Now tell me,” at this his voice dropped, going from chipper to a low and sly tone, “did you two… have some fun?”

“What? Hell, no,” Kenny pulls away from Nick in a haste, almost falling from his chair as he swipes the younger Jackson away with one arm. “Was this what you were getting at? Come on, Nick, I’ve been an asshole but not a monster.”

The thought alone of what Nick was implying felt horrendous to him - and also, deeply offensive. Despite all the awful things he’d done during your relationship, he never even came close to that. It wasn’t now that he would decide to start. But still, he knew deep inside that Nick’s worry came from a logical place. You were drunk and hurt, left vulnerable in a situation that, if Kenny wanted to, he could easily take advantage of. The same way he had worried about Adam’s intentions, it made sense for Nick to worry about his.

“Sorry man,” Nick said softly, backing away with both hands raised above his head, “but I had to try and check, gotta watch out for her, you know?” He shrugged, voice now back to the relaxed tone Kenny was used to, eyes softening as they looked over him again. “And you two got along well enough? No attempted murder?”

“No,” Kenny muttered, adjusting himself in his seat once more, letting his eyes meet Nick’s gaze, “when we got here we watched TV while I put ice on her ankle, and when she fell asleep I dropped her off at my bedroom and slept in a spare room.”

“Good, really good,” he nodded almost excitedly, a humorous tinge playing on his voice. “‘Cause she once said, and I quote: I will gouge his eyeballs out with a toothpick if he gets within arm's reach of me.”

Kenny’s eyes shot open, a chill running down his spine. He wouldn’t put it past you. There was a heavy pause as Nick looked at him with an awkward smile, brows shooting up on his head. Taking a deep breath, Kenny ran his hand over his hair again, smoothing the loose curls that framed his face.

“Fucking hell,” he breathed out, looking over to Nick who just nodded in agreement, “now I’m glad all she did was question me on why I was helping her.”

“Well, she had reason to, man. No offense,” Nick looked at Kenny with kind eyes, his voice felt soft, but his words came harsh, however, there was no denying their truth. “And listen, I think maybe you should take this chance to talk to her,” he paused, letting the idea sink in as he studied Kenny’s reaction. “I know last time it went to crap but, just try not to raise your voice and I’m almost sure you two can have an honest conversation.” 

“Matt told you that?” Kenny sighed, voice terribly quiet.

“No, it wasn’t Matt,” Nick trailed off, not even needing to finish his sentence. Taking a small step forward, he touched Kenny’s shoulder softly with one hand, a reassuring gesture that he was actually thankful for. “But honest now, you did the right thing, I’m glad you were there to help, despite, you know, your whole situation,” there was a moment’s pause as Kenny mouthed a thanks, Nick pulling his hand back before stepping away again. “I guess I’ll be going, I know the way out, you just make yourself some coffee, you really look like you need it.”

Nick squinted his eyes at Kenny, voice somewhere between mockery and pity, as he gestured towards the sorry state his friend was in. Not that he was wrong, coffee really sounded like a good idea at the moment. Stepping away, Nick started making his way back to the front door before Kenny could say anything. Not even giving him a chance to get out of his chair, leaving his friend with a couple last words as he left for the hallway.

“Good luck!”

With Nick gone, silence took over the vast kitchen, leaving Kenny alone with his thoughts. Yes, maybe this was his best chance of having an honest conversation with you, and that scared him to no end. Maybe he wouldn’t get a better shot than this, and the fear of failing again ached down to his bones. But he didn’t want to think like that, he didn’t want to let his fear win. He had allowed it to win too many times over his years. And in many ways, it had been allowing fear to win that had led him to this spot. This empty place where you were so close but so far.

Shaking his head, Kenny tried to clear his mind, looking around him for anything that could occupy his thoughts. His blue eyes landed on your bag sitting quietly on the marble counter before him. From the corner of his vision, he spotted something colorful and shiny against the deep black fabric. Pulling the bag closer, he saw it was a metallic sailor moon keychain, not even bigger than his thumb. A keychain he knew all too well, he had been the one to buy it for you, right at the start of your relationship. 

His large fingers picked up the small piece of metal, the painting faded in some parts, but it still kept its colors. The fake stones carved into its body still remaining in place, even after so many years. Despite the wear and tear, the small thing still retained its shine. Some of the delicate parts had a few chips in them and Kenny could tell the chain had been replaced, but he was surprised at how well it had withstood the test of time. He had completely forgotten  the little thing and it felt surprising to see that you still had it, even after almost a decade.

Kenny sat in silence for a few seconds, keychain in his hand, as his blue eyes trailed over its details. He admired how something so small survived the whims of time. But quickly his thoughts started to turn to the things he had, the moments he didn’t know to cherish before they were lost. Shaking his head he had to force himself away from those thoughts, away from that painful place that would bring him nothing good. Dropping the keychain, he got up, he needed to start the day, get things ready. And Nick was right, he really needed coffee.

When you finally start to wake from your death like sleep, the bed underneath you felt different. You were still in a haze, eyes not quite open, but you were sure this mattress seemed a lot more comfortable than the one in your hotel room. Trying to move, you feel your head throb and for a second you wonder if it wasn’t the bed that changed but you. Maybe the alcohol was making it seem softer than it really was. A trick played on you by your tired mind.

Slowly, you begin to come to, finally gathering the courage to open your heavy eyes. There is very little light entering the room, and you feel thankful for the dim atmosphere. You weren’t really sure how well you’d deal with sunlight right now. Sure, your head isn’t throbbing quite as much as it could be, but you weren’t about to test your luck. Your body felt heavy and your ankle was sore, and the last thing you wanted was to invite a massive headache to this pity party.

As your vision starts unblurring you look around, searching for the familiar bland surroundings of the room you were given. You don’t find it though, instead your eyes are met with a much larger space, fully decorated and even a bit messy. Looking down, you take in the soft bed and warm covers, not at all what you had slept in when you left your flight. Yeah, this definitely wasn’t your hotel room.

You could feel the headache inviting itself into your head as you try to make sense of the situation. Calming yourself down, you slowly sit up, resting your back against the silky headboard - your bed did not have a headboard. Rubbing your tired eyes, you take a deep breath, the soft smell of lavender entering your nose. Finally, looking around, you try to piece together just where you were. Sure, early last night you had wanted to wake up somewhere else. But that somewhere was Adam’s hotel room, and this was not a hotel room.

Lazily, your eyes roam around, taking in the mismatched furniture, some looking clearly older than the others. There was a closed door to one side, besides it there was an open one, a bathroom visible beyond. To the other side there was a large window, curtains drawn shut, keeping the room in the darkness. A couple of armchairs rested before the windows, what looked like men’s clothes lazily thrown over them with an elbow brace laying on top. On the walls there were pictures you couldn’t quite see from the bed and a myriad of posters, many of which seemed to have Japanese writing.

When you try to change positions to see the posters better your ankle burns in pain, the damn injured joint complaining about having to move after a whole night of staying mostly still. A hiss escapes your dry lip as you take your hand to touch the slightly swollen spot under the covers, and that’s when it hits you. The brace, the Japanese posters, the familiar smell of lavender. You knew where you were.

You were in Kenny's room.

In a second, your mind starts rewinding the previous night - or at least what it can at the moment. It isn’t much, but it’s something, enough to have yourself frustrated at your own stupid choices. Shit, you can almost feel the damn headache gaining ground already. Looking to the sides again, you spot a glass of water in a bedside table by you. Right by it there is a pill slip, you pick it up and just as you thought, it’s pain medicine. Popping one out, you wash it down with the water, drinking the whole glass, you’d be needing the hydration.

Relaxing your body against the headboard, you sigh. If someone were to ever tell you what happened in the past twelve hours, you’d think it was some weird drug trip. If you were a bit more drunk, you’d think it was the alcohol twisting things. But you remembered enough. Kenny had helped you at the party last night, and when your stupid ass forgot your things in the venue, he’d brought you to his place. He helped you with your ankle, you were wearing his clothes, sleeping in his bed. And apparently he even had the mind to leave you some meds on the table.

That level of thoughtfulness didn’t seem like Kenny. Not the one you left back in Japan all these years ago at least. It almost felt like a mirage of the person you’d first met, the rare parts of him that gave way to resentment and anger by the end. But after the way your bonds were broken, you never thought you’d see that person again. In all honesty, it seemed like that side of him was dead. So to have received his help and felt safe by his side was a foreign idea, one so alien your mind couldn’t fully grasp.

No use in thinking too much, not right now, you are in no condition for that. With a heavy sigh you look around again, you spot your clothes folded on top of a dresser in the wall opposite to you. Stretching, you check on your ankle before getting up. It seems less swollen than what you remembered it to be, a good sign at least, even if stepping on it still hurts. You stumble to the dresser and pick up your clothes, changing out of Kenny’s oversized ones before heading into the bathroom.

Slowly, as you go through the motions, you start remembering more things. The way Kenny insisted on staying even when you tried to push him away. How quiet and gentle he kept his voice through the whole ordeal. The careful tenderness of his touch as he checked on your ankle. You feared his controlling judgment back at the party, but you didn’t find it. You feared his rage when you sat by him in the car, but it never came. You feared the bitter reprimand but there was none.

Washing your face with cold water, you looked at your reflection in the mirror, forcing yourself back to reality. The person staring back at you in the shared your confusion, face reflecting the same uncomfortable sense of déjà vu that plagued you. Shit, you really didn’t know what to think. Shaking your head you decided to postpone any complex thought to after you’d gotten something to eat. You’d avoided a headache so far, but you were treading dangerous ground, and the emptiness in your stomach really wasn’t helping. With a deep breath, you built up the courage to make the journey out of this room - and back to what reality the morning had in store.

With some effort, you half-stumble, half-hop your way back to the living room. As you walk, the soft smell of coffee and pancakes hits your nose, engulfing you in a warm feeling. When you get closer to the living room, you see no sign of Kenny, but in the quiet morning your ears faintly pick up the sound of running water. Its quiet hum almost feeling like a caress to your tired mind. Yeah, the minute you got back to your hotel room, you’d run yourself a hot shower and stay there for as long as you could.

When you enter the living room, sunlight is filtering through the sheer curtains, bathing the place in a soft, warm glow. You’d find it all very beautiful, if only it didn’t make the back of your eyes hurt so much. The pain med you’d taken was certainly helping - otherwise, you’d probably be in much worse shape - but it couldn’t make any miracles. Squinting, you come to a stop beside the couch, resting your weight on its arm for a moment.

Taking a deep breath, you look around, noticing the way the living room looked. The posters on the walls of old anime and video games, the arcade style stick controller boxes and figurines on the shelves, it was all too familiar. Some things just don’t change. Looking down, you see  your shoes resting by the sofa and your phone resting atop the cushions. Picking it up you look at the hour, it's already about eleven, you’d really slept for a while. Pushing the phone into your pocket, you start getting back up again when you hear a door open on a hallway opposite of you.

“Hey, you are up,” Kenny’s warm voice reaches your ears before you even look at him.

Falling back on your good leg, you look up, finding him walking towards you, still pulling his shirt down and adjusting it on himself as he did. Kenny gave you a small smile, blue eyes shining under the scattered sunlight. His hair was still damp, a few droplets of water hanging to his skin, and even from afar you could smell the scent of soap coming from him. A part of you felt the deep desire to touch him - he looked soft and warm and smelled so good - but you were quick to silence it.

“You know I could have helped you if you asked,” he says, extending a hand towards you as you balance yourself on the floor.

“I’m fine,” you reply, waving his hand away with a laugh, “besides, I don’t think you’d had heard my cries for help while you were in the shower.”

“Fair point,” Kenny responds with a timid laugh, growing silent for a moment as a weird tension hangs in the air. “Oh, yeah, I made breakfast, if you want. And Nick dropped your things earlier.”

He points to the kitchen, a sheepish smile coming to his face as his baby blues roam over your features, a certain hesitation seeping through his expression. Part of you wants to say no, just grab your things and leave, but you couldn’t deny you were starving. Besides, Kenny may never have been a great cook, but he always made great pancakes, and denying his offer felt a bit impolite. As if on cue, you hear your stomach growl, Kenny stifles a laugh and you look away, feeling blood rushing to your face.

“Thanks, I think I’ll need it,” you say softly before your eyes meet his again.

Kenny laughs quietly again before guiding you to the kitchen. You carefully start to make your way, holding onto the walls as you balance your weight, trying to keep your ankle safe. When Kenny offers to help you again, you hesitate, air heavy around you both, before you accept his offer. He snakes his arm around your torso with ease, large palm warming the skin of your side as he holds on strong. Grasping onto his large shoulder, you feel his powerful muscles tensing under your grip as he helps you along the way. You turn your face to thank him, and the proximity hits you, finding his blue eyes trailed on your face, so terribly near.

This was the first time you were seeing him from so up close. At least the first time sober, and without red hot rage taking over your vision. He looked so different from what he did the last time you saw him in Japan. The years had taken their effect on him. He’d lost that boyish charm he kept even into his early thirties, replaced by the hardened features of a man strong in his years. But still time was kind to Kenny, he wore it well, and, at least to you, he looked better now than he had before.

You hold each other’s gaze for a second before breaking away, eyes scattering to the sides as you whisper a thanks, Kenny responding in the same quiet tone. When you get to the kitchen, he helps you get seated at the counter before leaving to get you breakfast. Seeing your bag, you take a second to check your things before unlocking your phone and sending a quick thank you to Nick, and then leaving it on the counter. He had already sent you half a dozen messages and you knew he’d be pestering you about this whole situation the moment you stepped on the hotel. Though, when breakfast appears before you, these thoughts all but vanish from your mind.

“There we go,” Kenny says in a low voice, still avoiding eye contact as he starts placing things on the cold marble.

It doesn’t take long for him to place everything in the counter before you, and despite the incessant racing of his heart, his hands had stayed mostly still. Your demeanor seemed good, good enough that it should have him at ease. However, the anxiety of not exactly knowing what you remembered from last night - and more importantly, how you remembered it - still had Kenny on a chokehold. Sure, things seemed fine, but the thought that you might not recall anything and maybe have the same suspicion Nick did wouldn’t leave his mind.

“Thank you,” your soft voice pulls Kenny from his thoughts, his eyes finally meeting yours again for a moment before he looks away.

“It’s nothing, really,” he says, feeling his mouth dry, words clinging to his tongue. “I had to make breakfast for myself anyway,” he shrugs and leans into the counter, resting on his forearms against the cold stone.

For a few moments he finds respite in just watching you serve yourself. His eyes follow the movements of your hands as you first pour coffee on the mug before pouring milk. The dark liquid turns lighter, and Kenny is reminded of how you hated the way he made coffee when you met. At some point he just picked up your habits, easier that way. And to this day he still makes coffee just like you used to, still grinding the beans every morning, still using the same amount of water. He found it funny, really, how it was the small things that stayed.

He was jolted from his thoughts - and saved from staring at you for too long - when he felt something vibrating near his arm. Looking down, he caught your phone vibrating again, making a dull noise as it hit the hard marble. His eyes caught it just as the screen lit up, the notifications appearing over a dark picture of something he couldn’t recognize. It wasn’t Kenny’s intention to read them, and he regretted it the moment he did. 

All notifications on screen were messages. The first to appear was from Nick, just checking if you were ok. But it was the others that had Kenny uneasy, the uncomfortable burn of jealousy seeping back into the darkest parts of his mind as his blue eyes caught sight of Adam’s name. “Hey, I couldn’t find you at the party last night and you weren’t at the hotel breakfast today, I got worried Everything alright?” Just as he finished reading it, the screen turned black again.

“This is actually really good,” your voice caught Kenny off guard, blinking twice he turned his sight back to you, only to find you busy looking at the half devoured pancakes on your plate.

For a long moment he just stares at you, the world around him dissipating together with his jealousy as he looks over your soft features. The raging sea in his eyes grows calmer as he watches the way your face scrunches when you take a bite, smile tugging at the corner of your lips. In the stillness of the moment there is only calm until his own voice breaks the silence, laughter bubbling from his lips.

“You say that like it’s a surprise,” Kenny responds in feigned offense, stifling the laugh from his voice.

“I mean,” you start, dropping your head from side to side and squinting your eyes as you look at him from behind your mug.

“Hey,” he raises his voice a little, dramatically bringing a hand to his chest. “If you are going to complain, I’m just gonna take the food away.”

“You wouldn’t,” you don’t dignify him with more than that, and Kenny just lets laughter burst from his chest again, watching as you hurry to finish what is still left on your plate.

You ate in silence for a while as Kenny started picking up the things from the counter. He was trying to keep himself busy so he wouldn’t have to think about anything. Not Adam, not the way his heart was beating erratically, and not the knot in his stomach at the thought of trying to properly apologize to you again. Kenny knew he couldn’t run from this, Nick was right, this may be his best chance, he had to do this. No matter how tense he felt.

“Thank you, Kenny, really,” your soft voice rang through the kitchen, quiet but strangely intense.

The sound dragged Kenny from his thoughts as he was placing the plates in the sink. He blinked twice before shaking his head, fully anchoring himself back in reality. Without turning back to you, a soft laugh resonated through Kenny’s chest before he could even speak. The deep sound filling the empty space between you two.

“Come on,” he starts, still slightly chuckling for a moment. “I told you, I had to make breakfast for m-”

“No, not this,” you cut him off, Kenny turning around to finally face you, finding your eyes already staring deep into him. “Not breakfast. For everything, really. For helping me out,” there is silence between you again, air hanging heavy in his lungs as he feels frozen in place. “I might not have the best memory of yesterday,” you chuckle, eyes falling to the side before you go on again, “but I remember enough. Enough to know I really gotta be thanking you.”

For a second Kenny just stood there, heart racing but body not responding as he took in your words and the way you started closing in on yourself. Of course, you were still the proud thing he had fallen for all these years ago. Having to thank him was embarrassing, because it meant you were wrong in how you saw him before. If he had been presented with the situation some months ago, he’d probably take pleasure in your shame. In the victory it brought. 

But there was no victory to be had here. Kenny didn’t want to compete. He just wanted to show you how he regretted everything, and that he’d changed. He wanted to show you he truly cared, no matter the circumstances. He just wanted to let you know he cherished you, more than he wanted to admit, more than he had the courage to say.

“Well,” he begins, stuttering around his words for a moment as he shrugs, trying to hide the storm in his chest, “you don’t have to thank me for that either, you needed help, that was that.”

“Kenny,” you call his name in a quiet, somber tone and it feels scary, terrifying even, your heavy eyes holding his own in their gravity. “You really had no reason to help, that had nothing to do with you,” there is a pause and he watches as you lick your lips, hesitation dancing on your tongue. “And we were barely even speaking to each other. You had no reason to just be there, let alone bring me here and do everything you did. I really have no way to thank you.” 

You finish your words in a hurry and he can sense the shortness in your breath, your eyes leaving his own, gaze settling on the counter before you. In a way, you had beaten him to the punch, forced him into a situation where he had no other option but to take the chance laid before him. It was now or never, but he knew he had to be careful. He could taste the anxiety in your voice, see it in the way you almost curled up in your seat. But the only way out was through, he knew.

“Ah,” Kenny starts but freezes before he can even find the words, running a hand through his hair as the silence lays thick between you. “You might not remember it but last night you asked me why I was doing all that and,” he pauses again for a breath as your eyes find his own, it’s not even a second, but he feels his heart shudder under your gaze, “well what I told you still stands. I am trying to be better. You could still hate me today and it wouldn’t change that I couldn’t just not care when I saw you there, drunk and in pain,” he pauses, resting back against the sink, hands gripping the stone tight as his whole body tenses. “So I just helped because it was the right thing, and I’d feel like a shitty person if I didn’t. Even if we barely can see eye to eye.”

There is a moment of stillness, Kenny feels his mouth dry, air thick and cold between you. Your eyes still hold onto him, they reflect a mix of vulnerability and unease that sends shivers through his nerves. He feels once again the desire to hold you, to tell you things were fine, he wants to believe it too. And maybe he can, maybe you both can, but he knows it’s not so simple. So he just waits, patiently coursing through the silence as he watches you try to find your words.

“I,” you begin but pause, looking down at your plate before looking into his deep blue eyes again. “I think I remember. It just,” you can only hold his gaze for a moment before looking down, voice so quiet Kenny can barely hear it, “didn't register in my mind. Didn’t feel real. Kenny,” you look back at him, his name sounding heavy on your tongue, voice now louder, even though he can still feel the strain on it, “everything you did, you could have just dropped me off with Nick and called it a night. You didn’t need to do so much.”

He didn’t. He knew he didn’t. He knew the easy way out and he still opted to go the distance. To do more than he needed to. And yeah, sure it was the right thing to do, to help, to show compassion for someone who had loved him for so long when he was the worst version of himself. He was trying to be good, to do right, to be better. But there was a part of his mind that whispered constantly in his ear that this wasn’t the full story. A part of his heart that ached too much at the sight of you, vulnerable, hurt and alone.

“Oh, well,” he shook his head, eyes leaving your powerful gaze, pushing a chuckle through his lips to try and defuse his own complex feelings. “I didn’t want you to get hurt, but I also didn’t want to end Nick’s night early. And I was already leaving anyway.”

Kenny looks back at you with a smile that he hopes doesn’t look as strained as it feels, praying that his voice hasn't given away his mental turmoil. He shrugs, trying to downplay the situation, trying to convince himself and you of the logic in his actions. When his blue eyes meet yours again, the momentary silence feels to him like an eternity.

“Thank you, really. I,” you pause again, voice low as your eyebrows come together, expression dropping as you speak, “never expected that and I guess I was w-”

“No,” Kenny cuts you off, exasperation painting his voice as he instinctively moves closer to you, his hands resting on the opposite side of the counter to where you sat, “you were right not to expect anything good. Like I said, I didn’t do this to get your forgiveness,” the tension slowly dies from his voice as his words grow quieter again, a heavy breath leaving his lungs before he continues. “I gave you every reason to think I was just the worst, a complete asshole. So yeah, I get where you are coming from, don’t worry about that. No hard feelings, I know it’s my own fault.”

The somber, quiet guilt in Kenny’s words feels thick in the air. You stare at him for a long time, his bright blue eyes like a calm lake, water gentle and clear. He stands before you and he feels so close, too close even, despite the cold marble counter between you. You don’t dare to complain, though, you know he is trying to connect, to reach out to you in a way he hasn’t in years. A part of you wants to close the door, to pull away and leave, fear burning through your veins. But you opt to stay, to see this through, to believe that the change you feel in his voice is real.

“Shit,” you breathe out, looking around, air tight in your throat. “I don’t even know what to say. It feels so strange, seeing you like,” you trail off, not knowing how to describe it, to describe the change in the man before you, looking back at him, you try to find the words but can’t, “that. You seem so distant from that person I last saw in Japan. Almost like two different people. And I guess I,” you pause, gazing deep into his eyes, still not fully believing how foreign they seem despite their familiarity, “never really thought I’d see that. All I expected was that same old asshole, even back when you tried to apologize.”

You don’t want to admit it, don’t want to acknowledge it, but you feel bad. Bad for judging him, despite his admission that he deserved it. Bad for not wanting to give him a fair chance, despite him saying he was at fault. You know he was right, but you can’t help the feeling. Biting your lip, you start to look down before you hear him call your name. Voice a soft tone that tugs at your heart.

“I know,” he stops, waiting for your eyes to find him again before he continues. “And I know I was a bad boyfriend, ok. I get why you were so angry and defensive when we talked, and you were right to be. And I know why you seemed so scared of me back in the car, it's because I gave you a reason to,” you can feel the weight in his words when he says this, the guilt coursing through his low tone, tainting its soft sound. “So you don’t need to worry about that, I fucked up that apology too and that’s on me.”

“Kenny,” you start quietly, not really knowing what to say before he begins speaking again.

“But if you let me try again,” he hesitates for half a second before continuing, you can feel the stress in his voice, the fear peeking in his eyes as he pushes through. “I’ll say that I’m truly sorry. I know I always acted like my emotions were all that mattered, like the world revolved around me. I was controlling, I thought I was always right. Even when it was about your career and your choices in life. I was a selfish bastard, jealous and scared,” his eyes leave yours as he rushes through his sentences. Words spilling out at a speed that makes it seem like he is chasing something, or running from something. When he stops for a moment, his eyes find yours again before he continues. “And I let that fear hurt you, which is the thing I feel worst about.”

Silence hangs over you again and you can hear Kenny’s labored breathing but his eyes never leave yours. You can see the conflict reflected in them and it feels strange. Wrong even. Kenny had always seemed like an unstoppable force to you, but the man standing before you now was anything but. Running a hand over your face you try to find your words, to show him the same honesty he was showing you.

“What do I even say? I mean, I can’t lie to you, ya know,” you stop for a breath, his blue eyes reflect a quiet pain, but he makes no motion to speak. “Yeah, you were really a selfish ass who thought you knew better than anyone about everything. And you really did hurt me with all of that. But especially with all the things you said on the day we broke up,” there is a heavy moment of silence, Kenny almost winces and you can tell, there is so much here you could say, but you don’t have the strength to. “It feels almost unreal to see that you could have changed after everything.”

“Yeah,” Kenny responds after a pause, you can see his hands fidgeting against the hard marble, his brows pushing together as he speaks, “and I’m sorry, really. Especially for that last part. I got scared you were leaving and,” he grows quieter, eyes leaving your own, gazing down at nothing before he finds the courage to look up again. “Well, I fucked it up and you left anyway. And I deserved that. And you deserved better. There is nothing else I can say, just that I’m sorry. I truly am,” he stops, and you feel the weight on his throat, the strain clear in his voice, he swallows hard before continuing. “But I know I fucked up too much and you don’t have to forgive me, and I’ll understand if you don’t.”

There is a somber dignity to his tone, even though you can feel the pain in his voice. It hurts you in a way it shouldn’t. In a way that part of you still says he doesn’t deserve to. All the suffering he caused you still runs through the back of your mind and you know you could never forget it. But you also know some people can change, and maybe, maybe, Kenny was one of them.

“God,” you begin after a moment that seemed never ending, an anxious chuckle escaping your lips. “I never thought I’d say this but, Kenny, it’s ok, I,” you pause, the words stuck in your throat before you can coax them out, “I forgive you. I mean, look at you. You seem to have changed so much in all these years that maybe I can give you the credit. I’m surprised but glad to see that you could make that change. Really.”

“Thank you,” he starts in a sheepish voice before you cut him off.

“Come on,” you chuckle anxiously again, hands sweating as you rest them on the cold marble. “I’m the one thanking you for everything you did for me.”

“Yeah, but I have to thank you for giving me a second chance,” he says, voice a firm yet gentle tone, and you can see light shining through his eyes again. “I know it isn’t easy. It's really hard. So, I’m not taking it lightly, I swear.”

“I’m counting on that, ‘cause, yeah, it ain’t easy,” you respond in an almost whisper, eyes looking down at your hands as your whole body tenses at the weight of the moment. “To be very honest, Kenny, there is still a part of me that thinks it’s insane to forgive you. So I’m really counting on you not to fuck up this time.”

Kenny feels the pain hidden in your words, the acid taste of his guilt rising like bile to his mouth. But he pushes through it, this moment isn’t about that. He is being given a chance and he will make good on it, no matter what. Once more, he wants to embrace you, but he knows he can’t, so he just chooses to touch your hands with his own. Hoping the small gesture can bring you comfort. Hoping you’d let him fix at least some of the pain he caused. Hoping it can show you how he truly feels, how his poor heart shudders at the thought of ever hurting you again.

“And I’m promising to do good on that,” he pauses, eyes finding yours as you look up. “‘Cause I know how fucking fantastic a person you are and I,” love you, that’s what he wants to say, but he knows he can’t, the heavy realization pushed to the back of his mind, “cherish you. You are a good person, and you deserved to keep better company than what I offered,” he pauses, mouth dry as he tries to silence his racing heart. Now was not the time. So he settles for the next best thing. “And if you let me be bold now, maybe we could stay friends? Or try?”

“Sure, why the hell not,” you chuckle, the sound far more honest and less anguished than the ones before, and Kenny feels like a weight is lifted from his shoulders. “Well, you have a chance to do better now. Show me why Matt and Nick believe so much that you are such a good friend.”

“I will,” he smiles at you, almost awkwardly, trying not to speak much in fear his voice would betray him. “Thank you for giving me this chance.”

“Don’t thank me yet, it just means you lost your excuse to not help me with my bullshit anymore,” you joke, pulling your hand away from his as you adjust yourself on your seat, no longer trying to curl up in the chair.

“I think I’ve proven that I can deal with it,” Kenny laughs, his heart still trying to rage within his chest, but he chooses to ignore it.

You laugh back at Kenny, smile warm as the sun and despite the knot in his throat and the tightness in his lungs he feels a bit better. The world seems a bit lighter, and by god, even if he would be plagued forever by this feeling burning at his chest, he was happier now. Happier for having a second chance, for getting to make up for all his mistakes, for being given a shot to make you smile again. The storm raging in his mind and the way his heart fought against his ribs wouldn’t rob this from him.

It doesn’t take long for you to leave, Kenny insisting he could drive you to the hotel, but you opt to go by yourself. The house feels a bit emptier without you, a bit stranger. Despite you only being there for only one night, it seemed like you always belonged. He makes his way to his room ignoring the pain in his chest, ready to make good on the plan to just get changed and head to the gym, work himself out until he can't even think. When Kenny enters, he finds the bed still unmade, but the clothes he borrowed to you folded neatly on top of the mattress.

Sitting down, he runs his hands over the soft shirt, staying still for a long moment as his large palm caresses the fabric. Kenny’s heart aches and screams inside its cage, and once again, he does something he knows he shouldn’t. Large hands pick up the old shirt, trembling as they hold it against his face. It still smells like your perfume, warm and sweet, chocolate and roses. Kenny clutches it hard between his fingers, staying still for a moment as he feels his eyes burn behind his tightly shut eyelids. Still, he knows life must go on.

Opening his eyes, he places the shirt back on top of the pants, smoothing it with a hand. He’d put those to wash later. Getting up, he slowly makes the large bed, trying and failing to find solace in the mindless chore. Turning back to the bedside table, he finds the empty glass alongside the pill slip. Picking up the slip, he pulls the drawer open and throws it back inside, but something shiny rolls to the front, the noise of metal against wood ringing in his ears.

Kenny just stares at the thing for a second and it feels like he got shot, pain burning like lava through his veins. In all honesty, he’d forgotten it was even there. Forgotten he’d even found it again. And now he wishes it had stayed forgotten. The small silver ring stared back at him, shining like the day he’d bought it. Now, it had rolled out of its velvet bag and came back to haunt him again. Just like it did when he found it back in the box with your camera. A crushing memento of how his childish selfishness and stupid fears ruined something that should have been great.

You never knew it, and maybe that was for the best now. But in the night you excitedly came to tell him about the WWE work proposal you had received - the event that culminated in him ultimately ruining your relationship for good - he had something else to tell you. He never got around to it, his own fault. When he heard of the job offer, he got scared you’d leave and his aggressive nature got the best of him. That day sealed the fate of your relationship, and no matter how much it hurt, he had to learn to live with it. Closing the drawer again, Kenny brought a hand to his face, wiping the single tear rolling down his cheek. He’d brought the pain on himself, no use crying about it now.

sponsored by: @xladyxfatex @wanderbreadsworld @madds-97 @morgan-bucks @tahiri-veyla @slut4kennyomega @of-twilight-and-moonshadow @himbos-hotline

#kenny omega x reader #kenny omega #kenny omega imagine #kenny omega fanfiction

[cuubism]

somebody please write a canon divergence where desire's plot with the vortex works and gets morpheus killed and desire has to deal with the fallout of that i beg you

#it can be actual death or dream-becomes-human death or reversible or temporary #i honestly don't care the point is it must FEEL real for long enough for the consequences to hit #'why don't you write it mare' i have too many wips!!! #also i want to read it not write it

[happykraut]

"Father John was a filthy man

But he loved his God

Sitting by his window late last night he sang a song

About the ways he put them wicked ones away"

#fanart #fallout 1 #my artwork #fallout #children of the cathedral #fallout classic #fallout the unity #fallout art #fallout oc #fallout morpheus #Morpheus fallout

[battlegroundofdreams]

1

So who are Morpheus & Melinoe? Now you get to find out...

Morpheus craned his neck, listening to the vertebrae pop.  The battle had been bloody, warriors lost, but in the end the wave of nightmare demons that had been plaguing the city had been defeated.  Normally the dream walkers battled in teams and walked in single dreams, but recent upticks in activity had necessitated the change.  After this battle though, things would return to normal.  For Morpheus, that would mean solo fighting.  He was a lone assassin, preferring not to have to depend or defend anyone else.  That was the way that it always had been, and he would keep it that way.  Not that the Dream Gods hadn’t tried to pair him up, he just refused to follow orders when they did, and eventually they just gave up.

As he approached his house he saw a message waiting for him.  What could the almighty Dream Gods want with him now?  Hadn’t he just given and done enough?  He grabbed the scroll from its holder as he unlocked the door and entered.  His home was not huge, but it was comfortable.  After he stowed his weapons, bathed, and got comfortable, he’d see what they had in store for him.  Hopefully it was some time off or an assignment in a remote destination.  It was doubtful, but an assassin could always hope, after all.

After he’d gotten comfortable, he broke the seal and unrolled the seal.  It took a moment for everything to sink in as he read what was written.  In all his years as an assassin of nightmares, never had a partner been an absolute requirement of the job, yet that is what was transpiring now.  If he thought it would do any good, he would have gone directly to his superiors and demanded that they reassign whomever they were giving him somewhere else, but it was included within the verbiage of the scroll that it was not going to happen.  He could either accept it or leave the force.  Apparently they had anticipated his displeasure with their decision, probably not the level of it, but at least that he would be displeased.

Setting the scroll aside he pinched the bridge of his nose.  How was he going to get out of this?  He hated working with other people.  It was one thing when there were large groups, like in the battle that day.  With one other person was a completely different thing and not something that he was interested in at all.  He had a feeling his best option was to try and convince whomever he was assigned with that they did not want to work with him.  Morpheus knew how to make a royal asshole out of himself when he wanted to, and he definitely wanted to at the moment.  He knew the other person was innocent and had done nothing wrong, but it was the best and fastest way to make sure that they didn’t hang around long.

*****

Melinoe had just finished training with another assassin.  A light sheen of sweat was across her brow and her breathing hard when she saw her commanding officer headed towards her.  Unlike normal, his face was displeased, which didn’t give her a good feeling for whatever their discussion was going to be.  Since she was unaware of any issues on her last mission, this must mean that whatever she was about to be assigned to was not going to be pleasant.  Hopefully it would be quick and over so he could go back to being normal.  Or at least as normal as he always was.

“Mel, I have some bad news.”  Well, at least he wasn’t going to beat around the bush.  That was a step in the right direction.  Make it direct and get it over with.

“I had a feeling it wasn’t going to be good from the look on your face.  So, how bad is it?”  Might as well find out.  Once she knew, she could start dealing with the fallout and making a plan of attack. “It has been decided that no one goes out alone.  All agents are to be given partners.  I tried to get you reassigned, but I wasn’t listened to.”  Her commander sighed heavily and it made Melinoe wonder exactly who it could be that she would be paired up with that could be that bad.  They were all dream agents, assassins who kept nightmares from hurting humans.  It wasn’t like any of them were actually bad.  “Tomorrow morning, you’ll meet up with Morpheus for your first training with your new partner.  I’m sorry, Mel.”

For a moment, Melinoe felt like the wind had been completely knocked out of her.  Of all the names that had been rattling around in her head, his had not been one of them.  Morpheus was an asshole and the last person she would have thought they’d pair anyone up with.  He was notorious for making everyone’s life hell when he was on a mission.  Why would they make someone work with him?  There had to be some kind of mistake.

“They have to know that Morpheus is not going to work with me.  He’s not going to work with anyone.  What am I supposed to do when he refuses?”  The frustration, and resignation, were clear in her voice.  She knew that no matter what she did, things were going to be a fight with him.  She just hoped that the higher ups had given some kind of guidance.

“You must find a way to work together.  If you cannot, there will be repercussions, for both of you.  He will have been made aware of this.  There is no way out for either of you.”  It was clear her commander was no more happy about this than she was.  “You were selected because you are his equal.  They are hoping he will recognize that and you’ll be able to form some kind of team.”  His expression showed the regret he felt.

“Being the sacrificial lamb to someone’s ego sucks, you know that?” Her eyes rolled skyward as her head shook.  How anyone thought that Morpheus would agree to be a team with someone was beyond her.  He was truly a skilled assassin, one of the best, the problem was that he knew it.  Melinoe wasn’t intimidated by him, but she found him insufferable.  She had to wonder if she injured him so bad he couldn’t go on missions if she’d be in trouble.  Probably.

“Just do your best and see what you can accomplish.  He is no more thrilled than you are, I’m sure.  If he hasn’t appeared before the Dream Gods already, I’d be surprised.  Play nice, and maybe they’ll just smite him in the end.” Her commander really was at a loss of what more he could do.  Morpheus had to have a partner, and Melinoe was the only one that was suitable.  

#writeblr #my writing #my ocs #fiction #fantasy #scifi #warriors #assassins #adventure #mystery #action #writerblr #writblur #authorblr #women writers #female writers #strangers to friends #dream police #guardians #complicated feelings #complicated relationships #conflict #compromise #original story #original world #original character #original fantasy #original fiction #original writing #teamwork

[c-n-i-d-a-r-i-a-n]

Thing!!

Got tagged by the lovely @crownedinmarigolds and it's been a while since I done one of these 👀

SO here are my submissions for this 9 People You'd Like To Get To Know Better situation!!

If y'all wanna play I'll throw lassos at these folks! 🤠 @dragomirthewizard @tweltchy @zoominalong @renaissancebadboy @redratt @mrfrunky @dabblingindissent @its-sixxers @shaydh

3 ships: I haven't engaged with "Canon" content for so long that I can barely summon up any concept of canon character x canon character. What media do I even like?? It is a mystery to me… After some very diligent digging into my past and present interests I have these raw uncut gems to present for you ✨

▫ Fallout 4: Danse X Hancock | A shit game that gave us some alright characters but couldn't give them good arcs. We live for good intimate tension and it could have been real between these two with their respective storylines if only the envelope had been pushed 140% farther.

▫ Destiny: Ikora Rey X Eris Morn | I've missed a lot of the recent content but I can dig it. It's one of the more reasonable ones.

▫ Warhammer 40k: The Emperor of Mankind X Malcador The Sigilite | That monster knew love exactly once and no one can convince me otherwise.

first ship: The Matrix: Neo X Trinity X Morpheus | My parents loved these films so I saw them maybe once a month growing up. I'm probably the person who's watched the Matrix the Most. Anyway these three are poly af.

last song:

last film: Guardians of Gahoole - the war-owls movie | We watched it on Christmas because I forgot we owned it and I also forgot how hard that movie fucks, like it pulls no punches for a "If Tolkien wrote Owls" narrative.

currently reading: Priests of Mars | Graham McNeill

currently craving: My second coffee of the morning ☕☕☕☕

fav color: I like oranges and yellows, and blues and greens!

relationship status: Happily married!

last google search: "Dark Souls death screen generator" Most of the jokes I make on Discord hinge upon this macro creator

current obsessions: ▫ Baldur's Gate 3 ▫ Vampire: the Masquerade ▫ TTRPGs with the crew (💋💋💋 y'all are awesome and I love you alll) ▫ If you can count "being stressed about tax filing" then I am also obsessed with tax filing 🤙

#tag game #omg so much love marigolds #well there's me snapshot #Spotify

[thefalloutwiki]

"Our plans? We are the messengers of evolution, my child. We follow the Master in his endless quest to heal the land and the people."

-Morpheus, Fallout.

You can read more about him here

#Fallout #Morpheus #Children of the Cathedral #the rippers #fallout qoutes #fallout wiki

[waterlilylullabies]

𝓑𝓲𝓷𝓭𝓲𝓷𝓰 𝓢𝓸𝓷𝓰𝓼 𝓒𝓱𝓪𝓹𝓽𝓮𝓻 𝓣𝓱𝓻𝓮𝓮

Welcome to The Dreaming

Warnings: Mentions of violence against women

Years ago, Belle lived through a night which she thought would never end. She was sleeping beneath a bridge in Rome and she knew what she was doing was stupid and dangerous but she had nowhere else to go. She wouldn’t allow herself real sleep, starting awake every twenty minutes or so to see that she was still alone. Every time her eyes would snap open, her heart would sink to see that she was still there, in that dark, cold, damp place hours away from dawn.

Belle remembers that night now as she pinches her arm, slaps her face, whispers “Wake up, wake up, wake up” all to no avail.

The stranger is watching her. His face is impassive. At his feet, is a raven.

They are in a vast, stone chamber. Stained glass windows throw chinks of coloured light across the floor.

Belle tries to keep her breathing steady. Maybe she’s been spiked.

The raven clears his throat awkwardly. Oh yes, she has most certainly been spiked.

But the stranger steps towards her, makes her a neat bow. “I am Lord Morpheus, Dream of the Endless. Welcome to The Dreaming, Lady Lorelei, I apologise for arriving so late.” He looks at her expectantly. Does he want her to curtsy?

“My name’s not Lorelei.” Is all Belle can manage before the world pitches and reels and fades to black.

~

“I tried to tell him!” Matthew protests, “I said he should explain things first…” Matthew is perched atop a stack on books on Lucienne’s desk.

The siren, whatever her name is, has been put in a small room off the throne room and Matthew, having witness the entire kidnap-cum-rescue and it’s attendant fallout has made his way to the library to give a full report, only slightly embellished.

“I doubt it would have made much difference Matthew,” Lucienne counters “It is very rare that a creature enters the dreaming in their physical form, the experience can be overwhelming. The poor thing is clearly terrified.”

-

At that precise moment, the poor thing in question having woken in a windowless room is plotting her escape. She tries the heavy stone door and finding it unlocked, pushes it open and peers out.

Here was the same room from before, empty now. At one end there was a flight of steps leading to a throne, at the other, miles away it seemed, was a vast stone door.

Belle breaks into a sprint.

“You seem recovered” came a velvety drawl, from behind, no in front of her. The voice was everywhere and it distracts her for long enough that she has no time to step around her captor, who chose to materialise from thin air at that moment so that Belle charges headlong into him.

Flat on her ass, which smarts where it had struck the cold stone floor, she glares up at him. He held out a hand. She resisted the urge to spit at him, to knock it away. She lets him pull her to her feet. “You have questions, no doubt.” He said softly.

“Bring me back to the bar. Please. I won’t go to the police, I promise.” The man frowns “You would not thank me for that, I can assure you.”

She can feel the tears pricking her eyes, she can feel the panic rising in her throat, she takes a step back from him, then another and another.

“What are you going to do to me?” She keeps pepper spray in her purse, but her purse is in the bathroom of The Venus Lounge.

The man looks affronted “You need not fear me.”

Belle laughs mirthlessly

His eyes are the blue of ancient ice. “Were you truly told nothing? Did your mother not explain?”

“I don’t remember my mother” Belle lies.

But she does remember. She remembers too late the warnings about songs and their power.

She remembers other warnings too, stories of what men would do if they could. Stories about one man, who was not a man at all, a King, an oath breaker.

Authors Note: Feedback welcome, thank you for reading! I’m actually writing this now ig!

#morpheus x reader #morpheus fic #morpheus #the sandman #the sandman x reader #dream of the endless fic #dream of the endless x reader #dream of the endless

[miraclesabound]

Love in Idleness

Summary: Johanna’s friend Annie thinks she imagined the way Morpheus looks at her - and then she gets exposed to a plant that shows her the truth.

Also available on AO3. 

Pairing: Morpheus/F!Plus-Size!OC Annie Magdalene (written in second person)

Notes: My first ever sex pollen fic! I’ve been toying with this idea since before the show premiered. Johanna, Matthew, Lucienne, Death and Desire all make appearances. Annie is an original character, but I’ve written her in second person so that she can be read as any race.  Set after Season 1 - Johanna is still dealing with the fallout from losing Rachel.

FAN ART by @miranhas-art​

Content/Warnings: Sex pollen, self-doubt related to weight, Desire actually NOT being a little shit for once, but it still blowing up in their face, worries about mortality, canon-typical language, fingering, PiV sex/dream sex. In the intro, items related to funeral preparation and difficulty with grief.

Tags: @writeforfandoms, @insomniamamma, @edwardmunsen,  @darklingveracruz, @morpheus-helm, @bowieandqueen11, @mylifeisactuallyamess, @whovianayesha, @blueeyesatnight, @yayforawesome​

Normally, a large raven landing on your windowsill would catch your attention. However, you’ve been knee-deep in paperwork for weeks. Johanna had called you to tell you about Rachel dying, and you’ve been handling the administrative side of things while Jo assists Sam, Rachel’s father. You don’t mind doing it – Johanna’s been your best friend since you were six, and she loved Rachel. That’s more than enough reason for you to direct your research efforts towards something useful instead of studying your family’s grimoires all day. As such, it takes the raven clearing his throat for you to look his way. Your eyes widen when he begins to speak.

“I’m looking for Johanna Constantine – am I in the right place? I have a note for her.” He lifts one of his legs, and you see a band of paper secured there.

“Uh…yes…” You stand up from your desk and poke your head into the hallway. “JO!” you call out. “Can you come in here a sec?” You only hope you don’t sound panicked.

Johanna shows up quickly, and she looks you over. “You ok, Annie? What’s – oh!” She sees the raven, and her eyes light up in recognition. “Matthew, is that you?”

“Hi, Johanna,” the raven says. “Yeah, it’s me – the boss wanted to give you this.”

Johanna sees the paper and gently unwraps it from Matthew’s leg. Opening it, she reads over the words with a slight frown. “How soon does he want an answer?” she asks.

“As soon as possible,” Matthew tells her. “Just call out for him, and he’ll come by. You both have a good night.” He flies off, and Jo shows you the note.

Muttering to yourself, you read aloud, “For your service, you are hereby invited to the Palace of the Dreaming as – wait, WHAT???”

“It’s real,” Johanna reassures you. “Keep reading.”

Clearing your throat, you start up again. “You are hereby invited to the Palace of the Dreaming as the guest of Dream of the Endless. An invitation has also been sent to Death and Desire. Please respond promptly with your attendance.”

You jokingly shove Johanna’s arm. “You met Dream of the Endless, from the family that the Magdalene family has studied for four hundred years, and you didn’t tell me??”

You realize your tone was misplaced when Jo looks at you sadly. “He’s the one who eased Rachel’s passing. I thought that made us even for me helping find his sand, but I guess he wanted to offer another boon.”

“I’m sorry,” you tell her. “I shouldn’t have teased.”

She waves away your concern. “No fuss – but I can tell you, I won’t be fit company right now, my head’s still kinda fucked.” She taps her lip. “Ya know, I have an idea. Got any paper you can spare?”

You tear off a piece from the notepad you’ve been using and pass her a pen. She writes the word MORPHEUS with intentional, bold strokes – quite different from her usual scratchy handwriting. When she’s done, she looks to you. “Want to do the honors?”

Realizing what she’s doing, you nod, and clear your throat. With clear intonation, you say, “I call upon Morpheus, Dream of the Endless.” Not even a tenth of a second after you finish speaking, the walls shake, and the lights begin to flicker. Jo squeezes your hand in reassurance.

When the lights and shaking cease, you realize that there’s now a third person in the room. He’s tall, black-haired, and his eyes will steal your breath if you’re not careful. Combine that with his dark attire and gorgeous features, and he’s exactly your type. When he speaks, his voice is like dark honey. “Who is it that called me?”

“That was us, boss,” Johanna says. The man turns to see the both of you. “Matthew brought your note.”

“I’m glad to see you well, Constantine. Then you’ll be joining me for family dinner?” he asks.

Johanna shakes her head. “I’m afraid I’d be bad company – I’m still handling some of Rachel’s affairs, and I don’t much feel like small talk. However…” she gently pushes you towards him. “This is my friend Annie Magdalene – she is from a very prestigious magical bloodline. It might benefit her to visit the Palace.”

“Jo, what are you doing??” you hiss.

“Giving you an in – you think your parents would ever forgive you if you had a chance to dine with an Endless and didn’t take it?”

“Magdalene?” he cuts in. “I know that name.”

Gathering your courage, you say, “We’re a family of practitioners and magical historians, sir – sire…what would you have me call you?” You know full well that if you insult him, you definitely won’t get the invite, and you may suffer something painful to boot.

However, he offers you a small, warm smile that makes your heart flip. “You may call me Dream or Morpheus, Miss Magdalene. And is this what you wish as well?” You’re not sure, but he seems to be looking appreciatively at your curves and rolls.

“Only if it’s no trouble.”

“None at all. If you’re willing, I’d like to spend some time with you before you come to the Palace next week. May I see you later tonight?”

Johanna is smiling in approval of your good fortune, but you must admit you’re still a little confused. “Where would we meet?” you ask.

“Leave that to me,” Morpheus says.

--

You’ve visited this vineyard many times in your dreams, but this is the first time you’ve had company. As you pluck a grape from one of the vines, a voice close behind you asks, “Are they almost ready?”

You’re startled only for a second, but when you turn around and see Morpheus, you smile. Of course, he would visit you in your dreams. You hold the grape out to him. “See for yourself?”

He opens his hand, and you drop the grape to him. He catches it deftly between two fingers and turns it this way and that to get a proper look at it. “Perfect color and shape – and the right level of firmness. Beautiful work, Miss Magdalene.”

His compliment warms you, but you feel the need to be honest. “I don’t know how much credit I can take,” you tell him. “I’ve been dreaming of this place since I was a kid, and it was already beautiful then.”

“Then at least someone is here to treasure it.” The conversation flows easily from there, and you wake up with a smile on your face.

The next several nights are much the same. Morpheus appears in the vineyard to spend time with you, whether to chat or just to sit together. You find in these times that Morpheus is not just a beautiful face. He has the mind of a poet, and sometimes, you love to just listen to his words. He does his best not to dominate your conversations, but his voice inspires the best nights of sleep you’ve had in a long time.

The one thing you do notice is that he doesn’t give you that same appraising look again that he offered the first time you met. Perhaps it’s just him being a gentleman, but you’re worried. Did you misread him when you met him? You’d thought it was appreciation, but he just doesn’t seem interested in your body like he was before.

It stings, but you’ll live. True friendship with a member of the Endless is still worth more than your weight in gold and wine – you’ll take it for the gift it is.

--

On the day of the event, you dream of the Palace for the first time. It’s utterly gorgeous – truly the home of a king in his prime. The structure is perfectly engineered, and the gardens stretch on for miles. You’re tempted to go exploring, but then Morpheus calls out to you.

You walk over the great bridge, and he’s waiting there with a woman you haven’t met before. He introduces her – Lucienne, his Chief Librarian – and she shakes your hand warmly. “So glad you could make it, Miss Magdalene,” she says with true sincerity. “We don’t often have guests when it’s not a matter of state.”

“And I truly appreciate that,” you tell her. “From what I’ve studied, I know this isn’t typical.”

Lucienne nods, and then turns to Morpheus as the three of you walk past the hippogriff, wyvern and griffin who guard the palace entrance. “All invitations have been answered as of today, my lord. Death and Desire will be in attendance. However,” she looks at Morpheus over her glasses. “Desire did specify that they will not be able to attend the dinner itself. They will arrive afterwards.”

You almost miss the way Morpheus rolls his eyes, but the annoyance is still present in his tone. “I appreciate them giving notice, I suppose – but it would have been nice to know sooner.”

Lucienne shrugs. “They would have given the kitchen a headache anyway.”

You do your best to contain a snort, and you’re relieved when you hear a laugh echo behind you. “It’s true – I remember how the last dinner went.” The voice comes from a lovely woman with a warm smile, curly black hair, and dark skin. “I don’t think even they knew what they wanted; they simply couldn’t be satisfied.”

“Sister, I greet you,” Morpheus says. “Miss Magdalene, this is my older sister, the Lady Death. Sister, this is Miss Annie Magdalene. She’s a friend of the Constantine family, and she is my guest for this dinner.” You feel a slight shiver pass through you – you realize it’s the first time he’s actually said your first name.

If Death sees your reaction, she’s kind enough to be discreet. Instead, she pulls you into a hug, quite possibly the best one you’ve ever had. “Well, any friend of Dream’s is a friend of mine – would you like to sit next to me for the dinner?”

“That would be wonderful,” you tell her, and you mean it.

The dinner goes beautifully – the food is perfect, of course, but it’s the company that really makes it. Death is especially chatty, and she tells you of the worlds she’s seen and the people she’s met. In turn, you explain to her and Morpheus how your family came to study theirs.

The meal concludes, and while you’re certain there will be further conversation at the table, you find yourself wanting to wander. While Death and Morpheus’s backs are turned, you find a side door and turn the handle. It opens into the courtyard, and as you walk out, you see an archway leading into the Palace gardens.

“It’s not safe to walk in there alone, you know,” a voice purrs behind you. When you turn, you see a devastatingly gorgeous blond person leaning against the garden entryway. From your family’s books, you recognize that this must be Morpheus’ sibling Desire. They’re almost a little too pretty, you think. Their hair is perfectly coiffed, their make-up and smile are razor sharp, and their black blazer is open, showing a slender build that would put even the most renowned model to shame. Good grief, is everyone in this family stunning?

“You must be that Magdalene woman I’ve heard about,” they say. “An invite to my brother’s palace is no small matter – what favor did you manage to grant him, sweetling?”

You know from your research that this being is temperamental at best and an active saboteur at worst – but when they offer their arm, you still accept it. Indeed, as you begin to traverse the gardens together, you find yourself spilling your guts about everything – Morpheus’ invitation to Johanna, her arranging for you to visit instead, the many dreams you’ve had where you and Morpheus simply talk…

“Then you and my brother are courting?” Desire asks.

You’d been smiling while discussing your and Morpheus’ conversations, but Desire’s question makes your heart deflate. “It’s not like that,” you tell them. “I thought there was something there, but I don’t think I’m his type. I’m not slim and elegant like Johanna, and I’m just a researcher, not a practitioner – and a fat one at that.”

You appreciate Desire not immediately trying to say that you’re not plump. You’ve always hated when people do that – you know what you are, and it’s better to be a realist, even in a place like this.

You’ve come to a grove full of beautiful purple flowers – pansies, if you’re not mistaken. Your fingers drift towards one, but Desire quickly catches your wrist. “I wouldn’t do that, sweetling – you’re mortal after all. Allow me.” With their free hand, they pluck the bloom and tuck it behind your ear. Unfortunately, neither of you notice the spray of pollen and juice that comes loose from the vine when the flower is plucked. Instead, your attention is drawn to a marble bench, and the two of you sit down together.

“I won’t speak to my brother’s desires,” Desire tells you. “But I don’t know of any woman who shouldn’t walk with flowers in her hair at least once.” They smile as they arrange the strands of your hair and secure the blossom. “There – lovely as a picture.”

Your own smile returns briefly. “Thank you, I – ” you cut off with a hiss. “SHIT, my head…”

“Are you all right?” Desire asks. “Let me bring you back inside.”

“I think that’s a good idea,” you agree. You stand up, take maybe three steps – and then your feet go out from under you as the heat and pain move down into your chest.

Desire catches you before you can hit your head. You could swear you see true panic in their molten gold eyes. “Fuck – fuck fuck fuck!” they mutter. Raising their voice, they call for help – “MORPHEUS! DEATH! SOMEONE HELP!!!”

There must be a summoning power in Desire’s call. The palace is at least fifty yards away, but Morpheus and Death appear in the grove immediately. It’s Death who moves first – she helps you back to the bench, and when you’re seated, she has you face her, looking at your eyes. “Talk to me, Annie,” she says. “When did this start – just now?”

“Uh-huh,” you nod. “I think I need to go home – ” Another flash of heat rolls through you, and this time, you feel it between your legs. “What is happening to me??”

Morpheus turns to Desire, and his eyes go black, only his pupils showing as pricks of starlight. “What did you do, sibling?” You bite your lip to avoid moaning – the dangerous tone he’s using now makes you want to crawl over and worship at his feet.

“Nothing, I swear!” Desire protests. “We were having conversation, and I picked a flower for her to wear – I thought it would look nice!”

They gesture in your direction, and Morpheus finally sees the purple bloom in your hair. He doesn’t curse, but he rips the flower away, stomping it under his foot.  Turning back to Desire, he slaps them hard across the face. “I TOLD you! I told you what would happen if you interfered with me or mine again. And now you use Love-in-Idleness to poison an honored guest??”

To their credit, Desire takes the hit like an absolute champion. Shaking off their pain, they look Morpheus straight in the eyes. “I didn’t know what this was, brother. Besides, I thought Love-in-Idleness made you fall for the first person you saw after exposure. I can tell – it’s not me she wants.”

“There were multiple variants,” Morpheus says. “Will Shakespeare put the version you describe in his play – but he considered different ideas. All of them ended up here in my gardens. Do you not see how suspicious it looks that you just happened to pick the version that amplified sexual desire?”

“Intentional or not, something has to be done,” Death says. Her hand is pleasantly cool where she checks your temperature. “She’s feverish and her pulse is wild. Today isn’t the day she has an appointment with me, but unless someone who cares for her gets this out of her system, that could change.”

“Appointment??” Your eyes go wide. “I don’t want to die!” You double over as another spasm racks your body.

“We won’t let that happen.” Morpheus says. Kneeling before you, he kisses your knuckles like a knight of old, and his eyes return to their usual shade of blue. “We’ll find the one you want – he must be here in the Dreaming somewhere. He’ll fix this.”

Tears fill your eyes, even as the feel of his lips makes you ache. “Then I’m doomed – you don’t want me back.”

It’s unknown if Morpheus of the Endless has a heart in the human sense, but at the very least, he has a soul. Right now, it feels like it’s being ripped away. “You…you truly believe that?” he asks. “Even with the time we’ve spent together?”

“Unfortunately, that’s exactly what she believes,” Desire says. “When we were talking, she was convinced that you weren’t the woman for her.”

It’s Death who gets to business. “Desire, you know these things – can you confirm that Morpheus and Annie have the same feelings for each other?”

“My sister, I swear it on our parents.” Desire’s smirk is completely gone.  “Our brother is unaffected by the pollen but still cares, and Miss Magdalene was practically glowing when she talked about him, even before we came to the grove. The affection is mutual.”

Your gaze flicks to Morpheus, your eyes still brimming with tears. You don’t dare ask if it’s true – if Desire is misinformed, the heartbreak might kill you before the drug does.

However, all doubts are erased when Morpheus walks over to you and lifts you into his arms in a full bridal carry. You cling tightly to him, even knowing that he wouldn’t let you fall. Death and Desire briefly look at each other, and then they disappear. Before you can ponder that too much, Morpheus leans in and kisses your forehead. “I’m going to take care of you, sweetheart – I promise.”

Your surroundings fade – and then they reform into an elegant bedroom suite inside the Palace. The cool sheets where Morpheus lies down with you sooth some of the tension in your body instead of scratching like your sheets back home do. Nevertheless, your system is singing for your Dream Lord’s touch. Reaching behind you, you try to find him, but he grabs your wrist and pins it down in front of you.

“Annie, listen to me,” he says. “I need to make you come at least once so that I know you’re safe from danger. After that, I’m all yours. Can you be good and let me work?” You can barely manage to tell him that yes, you’ll be good, you’ll do whatever he wants – when he promises to get you off, you almost black out imagining what he might have in mind. “That’s my girl.” He releases your wrist, and your fingers tangle in the sheets.

Morpheus kisses the point where your neck meets your shoulder, and you can’t help the shudder that rolls through you. You’re sensitive at the best of times, but with the flower in your system, you feel like you’re going to break into pieces. “Morpheus, please…” you beg, “I need you!”

He knows full well that you’re speaking of your survival, not just your arousal. As such, he hurries to help you get naked from the waist down. Morpheus isn’t immune to your shape or sounds, and he promises himself he’ll lavish you with affection – later. Right now, he needs to make sure you’ll be ok.

Once your hips and legs are bare to him, he turns your face towards him. “I need you to use your words, sweetheart – I may know your dreams, but I’m not a mind-reader. What will work for you?”

“I need at least two fingers inside while my clit gets rubbed,” you tell him. “I usually like to edge myself a while but – FUCK!” Another heavy wave of arousal and heat hits you, and you swear that you can feel your heart falling out of rhythm.

“Understood.” Morpheus gives you a quick kiss and gets to work.

His clever thick fingers find the right spot almost immediately, and you groan in relief. Even just being filled is helping quite a bit. You vaguely remember a legend from the grimoire stating that Morpheus had been married at least once – you can’t say you’re surprised. With how he’s using his hands, this is clearly someone who knows how to please a partner. You don’t think you’ve ever been this wet in your life.

Your orgasm catches you off-guard, hitting you with enough force that you think your heart did in fact explode. But no – as you come down, you realize that the edge with the pollen was so painful that your current adrenaline buzz feels sleepy by comparison.

Morpheus places a hand on your neck, finding your pulse. Your heartrate is still elevated, but not nearly as high as it was before. When you turn to face him, a lazy smile on your face, he feels his own relief as well. He kisses you again – but now, he can be a bit more leisurely. Pulling you on top of him, he keeps your mouths connected and lets his hands wander.

You’re so plush, he realizes – wherever he touches, his fingers sink into your flesh. If he didn’t know better, he’d think you were made of his own sand – a sculpture of soft perfection.

That very flesh is still warm to the touch, even if the worst of the fever is gone. Breaking the kiss, he notes how you chase his mouth with yours, and he asks, “Do you still burn, sweet girl?”

You nod. “You were wonderful, Morpheus – but yes, it’s still pretty intense.”

“Then let’s fix it.” Taking your hand, he places it over his crotch with a smirk. “For both of us?”

You feel his hardness and gulp. “Where do you want me?” you ask.

“You’re perfect where you are, darling – but I want to see more of you.” After you take off your shirt and bra, he sits up so you’re in his lap. “Beautiful,” he says, and you can see from the look in his eyes that he means it. You’re not a virgin, but you can’t remember any time that a partner looked at you with such pure hunger. Even if you didn’t still have the flower in your system, those beautiful eyes would reduce you to a puddle.

Your cunt pulses, and you’re thankful for Morpheus holding you up. “What about you?” you ask breathlessly. He snaps his fingers, and you now feel his naked hardness beneath you.

“Can I have you, Annie?” His voice is low and deep, but not demanding. “I want you to be safe and I want you.”

“I’m yours,” you tell him. If you’re honest with yourself, you were his as soon as you met him, flower or no flower.

Once you say that, he doesn’t waste any time. You’re still incredibly wet after your first orgasm, and there’s barely any resistance when he slides his cock inside of you.

You may be on top, but Morpheus is the one setting the pace. He may look slender, but his arms are strong around your middle, and he lifts you with minimal effort up and down on himself. You suppose you shouldn’t be surprised – the way he carried you earlier, it’s obvious that your weight is no imposition to him.

What is a surprise is the tenderness he’s trying to include, even as he fucks you silly. For every thrust that rocks you to the core, there’s a stroke or caress of your arm, your hip, your face… It’s as if he’s trying to remind you that you’re here and you’re safe.

Your orgasm builds more slowly this time – it’s the glow of an ember more than the roar of a flame. Still, your desperation to come remains high, and you whine into Morpheus’s shoulder as the glow grows. He chuckles slightly, and taps your back to make you look him in the eyes. “Kiss me and I’ll give you what you want. Can you do that for me?” he asks.

You lock your lips onto his, and you groan into his mouth as he starts stroking your clit. You swear you can feel his smile as he strokes faster and faster…

When you come, it cascades out from your core like the feeling of slipping into a bath – you can tell that the fire inside is finally quenched. You still appreciate the jolt you feel as Morpheus disconnects your lips and finishes as well, but your heart isn’t catapulting around your rib cage anymore. However, a new kind of anxiety is settling in.

Morpheus sees the look of concern on your face and wipes a few beads of sweat off your forehead. “Are you all right?” he asks. “I know this was sudden.”

“Should I be worried about getting pregnant?” you wonder. You really like this man, this god, this Morpheus – but you don’t know if you’re ready for a baby, even with someone that you could easily fall in love with.

“No – for our kind, child-bearing is a very intentional process.” You swear you see a shadow of sorrow flit through Morpheus’s eyes. It’s gone before you can analyze it too deeply, and he says, “I wouldn’t surprise you with that, especially in these circumstances.”

He pulls out of you slowly, and you kiss his cheek to let him know you’re ok. “What now?” you ask. “I would ask if I can sleep over, but I guess I’m already doing that.”

Morpheus lets out a brief laugh. “I understand your meaning, darling.” He wraps a blanket around you, and with a wave of his hand, you’re back in the dream version of your own bedroom. “You’ve had an intense experience – I think resting in your own space will be best.”

“For…how long?” you ask. “I’d like to see you again.” You’d like to do a lot more than that, but you don’t want to seem desperate.

“You will soon enough,” he promises, and kisses your cheek. “Rest well, Annie.”

--

It ends up being about three weeks later, but Morpheus does keep his word to you. You’re dreaming of the vineyard again for the first time since the dinner, and as you turn a corner, he’s there waiting for you. He pulls you into a firm embrace and kisses the side of your forehead. “Have you been well?” he asks.

You nod. “I’m feeling a hundred times better, but I did miss you.”

“I missed you too – but there were arrangements I had to make before I could come check on you.”

“Oh?” You truly don’t know what he might mean by that.

Letting you go, he squeezes your hand. “I had thought,” he says, “that perhaps we could go on a tour of the Dreaming together, and I needed to map a route. You’ve only seen your section and the Palace, after all.”

You smile wide. “Is my Lord Morpheus asking me on a date?”

He returns your grin, even if his smile is more understated. “Yes, I am – I don’t want my intentions to be unclear this time.”

Linking your arm into his, you ask, “Where to?”

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