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#hope x morpheus
cuubism · 26 days
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inspired by this Hope!Hob piece by @mashumaru, have a little reverse-verse fic, Hob as Hope of the Endless and human Morpheus
(reverse-verse Hope and Morpheus are my special special little guys, I wrote an extremely long fic about them before. I think about them all the time and at this point they're basically distinct from Dreamling in my mind 😂)
cw hate speech, homophobia, slurs, violence. it's pretty brief though.
--
At this point, Morpheus is no longer shocked to come home and find Hope sat at his kitchen table, knuckles and brow bone bloody, drinking tea as if none of that matters. It still rankles him, though. Bloody. Injured. Always.
Morpheus sets down his messenger bag in the hall with a thump and bypasses Hope entirely to go right for the first aid kit on the top shelf in the bathroom. Hope turns to watch him pass, a forlorn little look on his face. No, Morpheus tells himself, he does not get some sweet little welcome home kiss if he’s going to come back like that.
“Must you insist,” he says, as he drags the kit—packed full, always—off the bathroom shelf and trudges back into the kitchen, “on always starting fights?”
Hope pushes his half-drunk tea away, pouting. “I don’t start them!”
Morpheus sits in the chair next to him and just looks at him.
“…Okay,” Hope concedes. His lip and brow line are bruised. There’s dried blood under his nose. Morpheus wishes this wasn’t his natural state. “Sometimes I throw the first punch.”
Morpheus sighs, tearing open an alcohol swab and starting to wipe at the cut on his brow.
“…Most of the time,” Hope admits.
“Hope,” Morpheus says, exasperated, and Hope cringes.
“You know I can’t really be hurt,” he tries to explain. “I’m not human. Besides. You think I’m just beating the crap out of people for no reason?”
“No,” says Morpheus, and wipes at his split lip with perhaps more force than necessary. “I do not.”
“Besides, I don’t kill people and I don’t like when people do it around me either. It’s not about fighting, I don’t enjoy fighting. It’s about taking a stand.”
“You do enjoy fighting,” Morpheus accuses. “I have seen you.”
Hope ducks his head. “It’s not about that, though,” he insists. “Listen. You know I never really finish these things, but it’s my role to start it. To show that these battles can be fought. And that it’s worth standing up.”
“Bar fights, such a noble cause,” says Morpheus dryly, and Hope tucks his forehead into his shoulder. Morpheus can’t help himself, his hand automatically goes to the nape of Hope’s neck, fingers combing through his hair.
“You attract violence to you,” he says quietly. “I have seen it.”
Hope sighs. “Did you really think that people would like Hope? Sometimes they want to give me a hug but more often they just want to punch me in the face.”
“I thought you were meant to inspire,” Morpheus says, and it’s a little bit mocking of things Hope himself has declared in the past but Morpheus is listening.
“More like get in the way,” says Hope, his face still pressed to Morpheus’s shoulder. He sounds despondent now. Morpheus supposes people instigating fights with you simply because of your nature wouldn’t be pleasant. At least when people instigate fights with Morpheus, he’s usually done something to deserve it.
“You are not ‘in the way,’” he says. “If you are, then you are meant to be there. Like when you stepped into my path.”
“‘Least you didn’t punch me,” Hope mumbles.
“I considered it.”
Hope huffs. He pushes himself upright again, shaking his messy hair out of his eyes. He is so beautiful, even still speckled with blood and grime from the fight. Especially like that, if Morpheus is being honest with himself.
“So long as you never hated me,” Hope says. His voice is fragile now, and it hurts Morpheus’s heart. Hope is like a radiant sunbeam, and still more often than not people are only trying to throw shadows over him.
“I could never hate you,” he says, and Hope’s expression softens. Morpheus kisses him lightly on the lips. “I do not think they hate you either. You are… challenging. Just being around you… it is a confrontation in its own way. Especially for those who may have pushed you aside.”
“Even for you?” Hope says.
“Especially for me,” Morpheus tells him. He leans his cheek against Hope’s, overcome with fondness. Fondness that is greater for how frustrating Hope has been to him over the years, during those times of darkness. “It is how you saved me.”
“You saved you,” Hope says firmly. “But if I helped, then I’m glad.”
“Always.” Morpheus kisses the hinge of his jaw. “What would I do without you?”
“Now you’re just coming on to me.”
Morpheus hums, not disagreeing.
“Admit it,” Hope says, tangling fingers in Morpheus’s hair. “You’re into it. When I come home all bloody.”
“Mm. I am not.”
“Oh, you are. I can tell.”
Morpheus skates a hand up along his thigh. “Hm. Perhaps it makes you seem very fierce.” He kisses Hope’s mouth this time, swipes his tongue soothingly over his split lip, tasting just the tantalizing hint of blood. Leans in and—
“Ow!”
Morpheus pulls back, raising an eyebrow. Hope looks sheepish, pressing his hand to his nose, which Morpheus had bumped. Hope’s non-human body will heal quickly, but for now his nose remains at least partially broken.
Morpheus keeps giving him an unimpressed look. “I see you are gravely wounded.” Hope catches him by the hair before he can truly pull away, and he smiles. “I suppose… I will have to ply my mouth elsewhere. If you promise to be more careful.”
“For such a reward I’d promise anything,” Hope swears, and Morpheus obligingly sinks down, hands on Hope’s thighs. It is hardly a hardship.
“You do like this,” Hope swears. “Don’t try to pretend. You’re so transparent.”
“Perhaps you once punched a man in the face on my behalf, and perhaps I found it titillating,” Morpheus says, and Hope laughs. “Is it terrible if I wanted you to break his nose? Perhaps I am terrible. You do look appealing with blood on your hands. If it is not your own.”
Even Hope’s own torn, bruised knuckles do stir something in Morpheus, a fierce pride and terrible heat. But he worries for him also.
“Liar,” Hope crows, gleeful, “hypocrite. Terrible lecturer. You love it. You know you do.”
“Do not get yourself horribly maimed in a bar fight,” Morpheus orders. “However…” he takes one of Hope’s hands, kisses his knuckles, lets his lips linger there for a moment. “If you must be righteous and full of passion, then I will soothe your injuries later, oh knight of promise.”
“Terrible incentive, now I’m going to get worse,” Hope says. He caresses Morpheus’s cheek, thumbs at the corner of his mouth. His look on Morpheus is so fond, always. Then he says, “Alright, darling, for you, I’ll be careful.”
“Thank you.” Morpheus leans his face against Hope’s thigh, lets Hope play with his hair. In a moment he will indeed ply his mouth upon Hope’s body as promised, in a moment he will indulge the spark that Hope’s fierceness lights within him. But for this moment, he just stays close to him, a gentle valley in the topography of Hope’s violence. Morpheus has never been gentle for anyone before. He finds he likes it.
Hope leans down, smiling, and kisses the top of his head.
~
Morpheus does not like to be “out and about.” In fact, he generally detests it. But Hope likes to be out among people and Morpheus likes to be with Hope, so sometimes he goes. Besides, he likes to see Hope happy.
The White Horse is a safe space for them, anyway. Morpheus does not feel so uncomfortable there as he does at other crowded, loud establishments. He sits in his usual corner seat at the bar, nursing a drink and working on his writing, leaning lightly against Hope’s shoulder as Hope chats with whomever has come up to him now. He tends to attract people wherever he goes. Fortunately, no one has tried to start a fight, this time.
Hope leans in close to his ear. “Get some air with me?”
Morpheus smirks. Inevitably, getting some air will turn into Hope pushing him up against a wall and kissing him senseless. He is hardly opposed to that series of events.
Cold air washes over him as Hope leads him out to the back garden, around the corner to a private spot in the alley by the inn. It makes his hands feel even warmer as he takes Morpheus by the hips, leans him up against the wall as expected, thumbs stroking over his hip bones under his shirt. Morpheus smiles to himself.
“Did you get bored?” he teases.
Hope kisses his cheek, then his jaw, leans in close to his ear. “Hardly. You know my mind is always on you no matter what. But you were being so patient.” He tugs on Morpheus’s ear, then goes to his throat, kissing along his pulse. “How could I not reward my darling?”
“Knowing that I am the one you will go home with is its own reward,” Morpheus murmurs. He trails a hand up Hope’s back, pulls him close so their bellies are pressed together. “So many of those people in there want you. I see it. But they do not know that you are already taken.” It makes him feel privileged. And hungry.
Hope laughs. “Possessive little bastard.”
“Yes.” Hope is so radiant. To be the one chosen by him… it makes Morpheus’s soul sing. “You are mine. I am yours.”
“Yours,” Hope agrees. With that he moves to Morpheus’s lips and kisses him deep. Morpheus hums in pleasure, opens his mouth to him. Tastes the beer lingering on his tongue. Sinks into the press of Hope’s fingers on his hips, and—
“In public? Disgusting.”
Hope pulls away from him, and Morpheus grumbles in displeasure. Hope turns to the mouth of the alley, where a strange man is standing, expression of, indeed, disgust on his face.
When they don’t respond, the man steps closer until he's almost in their space. Hope’s jaw clenches but, perhaps remembering how Morpheus had chastised him for always getting into fights, he doesn’t yet react.
“Can we help you?” Morpheus asks. Not politely.
“By taking that somewhere else,” says the strange man. His tone is aggressive. And most of his attention seems to be on Hope, rather than Morpheus, which Morpheus doesn’t like. Morpheus has noticed before that Hope’s presence inspires ire to jump to action as often as it inspires positivity and good works. But this is the first time he has seen such outright aggression.
Maybe some people really do hate Hope.
“Mind your own business,” says Hope, stiffly.
“You fags shouldn’t be allowed out in public, it’s an insult to respectable people.” He’s still primarily looking at Hope, and it's hard to say if it's because he is the one who looks more traditionally masculine between the two of them, or if it is because of the inherent draw of Hope as an Endless. “Should fuck a real woman instead of that.”
Hope takes a quick step forward at the man’s words, expression hard.
“Hope—” Morpheus starts. Do not get yourself hurt again, he means to say. As much as I enjoy you defending our honor I also like you well. For Hope may have supernatural qualities that prevent him from dying but he is not invulnerable. His powers lie in his empathy, his charisma. Emotion and community. But he takes a punch like any other man. Comes home to Morpheus with a black eye like anyone else would.
Hope stops sharply as if caught on a leash. And Morpheus immediately regrets speaking, for the other man crows in victory.
“What are you, his little bitch? You a man or not?”
Hope flinches despite himself. Not, Morpheus thinks, because he cares so much about a stranger’s sense of masculinity, but because he prides himself on being able to handle himself. On being able to defend his lover. On being able to stand on his own feet after being broken down into shards by his imprisonment.
Morpheus often feels anger, is too quick to it even, but he does not often act on it with violence. It is not so much that he disapproves of violence as that he dislikes the attention associated with causing a scene, and, being rather slight, is usually at a disadvantage in any physical confrontation besides. Cutting words are his weapons instead.
But watching Hope shrink back, the hurt that flashes over him—a terrible spark jumps inside Morpheus. Hope is stronger, is better, than any person he knows. Has been through hell and come out of it still with more empathy than Morpheus has ever possessed in his life. Morpheus will not watch him made small.
He steps forward and punches the man square in the nose.
He hears a crunch. He’s not sure if it’s the nose, or his own knuckles. The man wheels back with a shriek, clutching his bleeding nose, and Morpheus stumbles back, too, shaking out his hand.
Hope has his hands over his mouth in shock, eyes wide. “Holy shit.” When he drops his hands, he’s grinning. “Holy shit.”
Holy shit indeed. Morpheus watches the man scamper off down the alley, casting one last dark look back at them. His hand hurts, he might have broken it—but the adrenaline pumping through his veins is much louder. He can’t quite believe he did that.
“How’d that feel?” Hope asks. He is a terrible influence sometimes. Always roping Morpheus into doing terrible things, like wanting to live.
A smile tugs at Morpheus’s lips. “It felt… good.”
“Yeah?” He’s still grinning madly. “Let me see your hand.”
Morpheus shows him. Hope prods gently at his knuckles, and winces.
“That’s gonna hurt for a while,” he says. “Your punching technique is terrible.” He kisses Morpheus’s hand anyway.
“Now you understand how I feel when you come home bloodied,” Morpheus says.
Hope’s eyes are sparkling. He does not seem like he’s learned a lesson from that at all. “Oh, I do.” He leans in close, presses his lips to the corner of Morpheus’s mouth. “You were…” his voice is a low hum, “incredible.”
“Do I get a reward?” Morpheus asks dryly, though his breath quickens at Hope’s proximity, the heat in his voice.
“For defending my honor? Anything.” He takes Morpheus’s uninjured hand. He smiles. He’s altogether too excited about Morpheus punching someone. Which only makes Morpheus want to do it again. Terrible influence, Hope. “Come home, and I’ll show you.”
But Morpheus catches him when Hope starts to tug him away. “Here.”
Hope raises an eyebrow at him, but he does look… interested. “Something to prove?”
Morpheus draws him close again, leans back against the wall so Hope is caging him in. “Perhaps I simply want you, and I do not care who knows about it.”
He touches low on Hope’s belly, his hand hidden between their bodies. He is not willing to truly expose them—though they are somewhat sequestered in the alley at the moment—but to play with the idea is… arousing. He wants Hope to touch him. Here, in their place. After Morpheus has hurt someone for him.
He cannot blame Hope for this. Morpheus is just a terrible influence upon himself.
“Menace,” Hope chuckles. “You’ve no high ground left, you know that, right? You’ve obliterated it.”
“I never did,” Morpheus says, as Hope lets him draw him in and kisses along his neck. “Always you have been the better of us.”
“In terms of exhibitionism, maybe,” Hope says. Even now, he won’t let Morpheus truly criticize himself. “I could be persuaded, though.”
With that, he slots their lips together. Sucks on Morpheus’s lower lip as he pushes him harder against the wall, Morpheus’s back scraping the brick. Morpheus groans, pulls him close by his hips so Hope’s swiftly-hardening erection is pressed against his, and Hope’s breath hitches against his mouth.
“Should I give you a proper reward?” Hope murmurs.
“Yes,” Morpheus breathes. “Hope—”
He loves Hope so much. He wants Hope so much.
“Vicious little thing, I love you so,” Hope says. And then, in the darkened alley by their favorite place, with his hands and mouth and the weight of his body and his devotion, he goes about showing Morpheus just how much.
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sandman hope!hob au Pandora's box
okay so we know DC follows Greek/roman mythology to a point right? so Pandora's box must exist, and we all know the story right? hope gets trapped in the box after Pandora opens it.
part 2
wordcount: 1551
hope!hob is trapped within this box for several millennia all alone, not even taunted by captors, just isolated in the dark and quiet watching as new awful things are born within the box. I imagine the box is opened by someone just before the age of heroes begins. a scorned lover pouring all the new horrid things directly into their cheating, abusive partner and catching a very small light before it enters their gaping chest cavity. they hold hope there, magically closing the wound and sealing their lover into an endless void, outside of time’s realm condemning them to live forever in never ending pain. they do all this with one hand, carefully holding hope, they take his small form outside and whisper into their hand
“do something worthwhile with this freedom, any god out there knows we need you” the words are washy and weak “and if you cannot find the strength to do it all yourself, bless people to inspire you within the minds of the rest of us”
they open their hand and hob’s little light form takes off to see just how the world got on without him. not well obviously, a world with no hope is desolate and cold. hope goes back to his realm to call on his sister death to catch him up, and she tells him she knows just the person to do just that.
Morpheus has been around a long time. he was born after Pandora opened the box and the only word the people of his village called him was hopeless. this was not a surprise of course, hope was not where he was supposed to be, but the rest of the children still seemed to want to live. Morpheus however made it seem like a chore. he went through the motions as they came and did nothing more or less. he was a thing of beauty though, his demeanor didn’t stop suitors from pursuing him. they all did their best but none of them ever seemed to interest him. he even caught the eye of a king who gifted him a ruby necklace saying it popped against his pale skin and dark hair. Morpheus did not particularly want to keep it but his parents had insisted he keep it and marry the king anyway.
and so he did.
he was not particularly fond of his husband, but he didn’t dislike him. the marriage and his husband were just another motion. the grounds of his husband's kastro were vast and stretched for miles and ended in cliffs that Morpheus found himself standing before at the end of the many walks he took in a day. one particular evening, when the winds were stronger that usual, he found himself lingering at the cliff’s edge a bit longer and a bit closer than he normally would, and so had someone else
“are you going to jump?”
to say the voice had startled him would be incorrect, it had simply shifted his focus. the woman who the voice belonged to was dressed in a fine ebony cloth and a very simple necklace with a strange symbol he could not place, and her skin was just as pale as his, if someone had seen them together they might’ve thought they were siblings, still Morpheus did not especially care who she was or what she was doing here but answered her nonetheless
“no, but would it really matter if i did?”
“what does it matter? you know, most people have some sort of emotion towards the prospect of dying.”
“i suppose they do, don’t they? i don’t see why though, it’s going to happen whether they want it to or not”
“they probably see the beauty, or in some cases pain, that life has to offer” Morpheus tilted his head and thought for a moment before looking back at the woman
“perhaps life has nothing to offer me, nothing of value anyway” he said starting his way back to the kastro past the woman dressed in black. he had already gotten past her as she cocked her head and called back to him
“you know how you said it happens whether one wants it to or not?” he stopped and turned back to her
“yes, what of it?”
“it’s not going to happen to you”
“what?” she turned to face him once more
“you aren’t going to die, whether you want to or not. you are going to watch as life progresses and evolves into something you, at this moment, could never even fathom.” she beamed, before he could question her further one of the servants called his name, it was late and the king wanted him back in the kastro, he called back saying he’d be in soon, but when he turned to face her, she was gone.
now, hundreds of thousands of years later, as he stands in the entrance to his home, standing in the living room, the woman is before him once more for the second time. her clothes match the days casual fashion just as they had before, all black and very simple with the same necklace. the man next to her, however, is wearing clothes that fit with the first outfit he has at the very bottom of a trunk in his attic. a long pale yellow tunic with white underneath with traditional sandals. his hair reaches just above his shoulders and his head seems to have a faint gold glow around it. he's looking around at the shelves of books, movies and various musical mediums with awe before moving on to the trinkets and sculptures scattered around.
"I don't believe I introduced myself the last time we met" she pipes up drawing Morpheus's attention away from the man
"you did not." he confirms as he sets his bag down and hangs his coat "you also left quite suddenly" he adds as he takes off his shoes
"yes I did" she laughs "I'm here to rectify one of those things, I am death of the endless and this," she pauses to pull the man behind her to her side "is my brother, hope" the man smiles "and I have a favor to ask of you"
morpheus tilts his head "a favor, why would i do you a favor?"
"its not really for me, its for him" she says pushing him forward a bit
"he doesn't have to do anything for me if he doesn't want to" he says to her before turning to Morpheus "you really don't, I can figure it out by myself, sister I can figure it out on my own this really isn't necessary" his motions are slightly sporadic
"figure what out?" he asks walking to the kitchen thinking about what type of drink to get for his guests.
"you don't have to worry about it, it-"
"my brother hasn't been able to reach this realm for quite awhile, he needs someone to catch him up on what he's missed" death interrupts with a smile "and I thought who better than someone whos been around the longest?" she asks as she follows him to the kitchen
Morpheus ponders this for a moment 'what he's missed?' he pops his head out of the kitchen to take another look at hope 'based on his clothes he's probably never had hot chocolate' he thinks as he goes back in to start gathering the various types of chocolate from his pantry and put some milk on the stove.
"if I were to help him. what would I have to do? just give him the internet, could he just absorb the information?" he questions as he cuts up a chocolate bar.
"internet? what's an internet?" hope asks panicked "can it catch me? is it magic?"
"no hope, no, nononononono, it cant catch you" she reassures him "its like destiny's book but, um, well its hard to explain but its not a net, it cant catch you" she puts her hands on his shoulders and quietly says "no one is going to catch you again I promise. I wont let them"
'catch him again? where was he?' he thinks as he stops cutting 'who caught him?'
"okay no internet"
"no internet"
"i guess, i could just, i dont know, tell him stories?" morpheus suggests pouring the chocolate into the milk and stirring
"stories sound nice, i'd like to hear stories." hope says in a small voice
"you're gonna need some new clothes though," he says pouring the hot chocolate in a cup "tunics aren't exactly in style anymore. here I think you'll like this" he says handing it to hope, watching his reaction as his face lights up. like actually lights up. well not his face per say, but the light around his head.
"this is delightful! what is it?" hope beams (literally) looking into his cup
"you may not have been around but you still live within their souls, if ever so slightly. they are never truly free of you, hope" death says leaning over the counter. "anyway. hope, when Morpheus lights this candle it means he's ready to tell you a story. okay?" he nods "alright lets get you bac to your realm" "okay :)" and with that they're gone.
"..."
"I didn't even really agree" Morpheus says, holding the candle.
n e ways i hope the four people who see this and also read through all of it like it! thank you for reading!
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beaulesbian · 2 years
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~ Why would any sensible creature crave an eternity of this?
~ You could find out.
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nathanwonderwolf · 11 months
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Morpheus' transformation really happened, only he took Hope by the hand, not Death. Now his duties are distributed between Hob, who guards Dreaming and returns escaped dreams and nightmares, and also guards the minds of people in a coma, in Limbo and Daniel, who has become a Prince of Stories and is responsible for children's dreams. Morpheus is still the Lord of Dreams and Nightmares, he creates them, he sends them, but he no longer needs to control everything .
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atr3ldes · 3 months
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i’m absolutely obsessed with Regency au Dreamling from the wonderful fic, Risk and Reward by @signiorbenedickofpadua
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mayhaps-a-blog · 2 years
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I have seen much speculation on the high quality of Dream of the Endless as a romantic partner, and I have seen many refute such speculations, mainly citing Nada as proof that Dream is a terrible, capricious lover doomed to failure.
Personally, I think it would fall somewhere in the middle. Dream is, by most accounts, a passionate and considerate lover.
Consider Calliope’s words from the comics: “He was the most gallant of lovers... He delighted in sharing his knowledge. He had a castle filled with treasures, and took such pleasure in showing them, giving them to me. He was so gentle, and his skin felt like white silk against my skin... when we made love, it was like a flame: I felt utterly engulfed, utterly loved. Treasured.”
Or words from another former lover: “...we began a conversation, which stretched over many weeks. And, at the end, he invited me to remain in the Dreaming, as a guest... He began, rather nervously, to court me. And I began, also rather nervously, to be courted. And we were both, initially, extremely happy. He loved me. I do not doubt that.”
In summary, as a lover, Dream is, in essence, a dream :)
And like a dream, it fades.
His first and foremost priority is, and always has been, his duty. Once he’s settled into a relationship, once the shine has worn off, he goes back to work, and his lover is left for when he feels like stopping by.
Both mentioned relationships end this way. A slow drifting away...
And once the drift begins, well. Nada was an extreme example, but reject him, insult him, even if it’s just a loss of temper, and a lover will find themselves shown the door and banned from returning. His anger, his hurt, is cold and sharp and cutting, like the nightmares he rules, and he holds grudges for millennia.
Dating Dream would be a dream, but the breakup is a nightmare.
Enjoy!
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slothgiirl · 2 years
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under-negotiations
morpheus x reader. no use of y/n. fuck, with feeling, aka smut (rough-ish) unedited (eve babitz would understand)
“I know about Nada,” you tell Morpheus when he reaches for you. His hand halts, hovering over your cheek. You long for his cool touch against you on this hot summer night. Even at midnight, the warmth of the day remains ever present.
But you also know about Nada. 
And that more than anything frightens you. Already, you were aware of who he was. Just because he appeared to you as a man, did not make him flesh and blood. And yet knowing all that, being aware of his severe reputation in the supernatural community, had not stopped your attraction to him blossoming into more. You had grown fond of the melancholic and surly man. 
In the stories, it always went badly for the mortal.
What could you expect from Morpheus who was unyielding on a good day. 
“Has Desire visited you,” he asks carefully, his voice a harsh whisper, the tell-tale sign of how furious he was at the idea of his sibling interfering.
More tellingly, Morpheus wasn’t listening to what you were saying.
“No. That’s not the point at all,” you snap, pulling away from him entirely. “You can’t expect someone to do whatever you want them to, to obey without question. That’s not how relationships work!” You’d always questioned, with a fiercely independent streak your relatives chalked up to your parents divorce. It was your curiosity, your inability to just accept the mundane answer, that had led you to the supernatural in the first place. 
Morpheus reaches for you once more, brushing the back of his hand over your cheek, “I am not human. You cannot expect me to love the same way a man would.” 
“So that’s it,” you meet his gaze, those shining blue eyes which held all the emotions Morpheus prefered to avoid, “what happens when I ‘defy you,’ or piss you off? I am only human, my lord.” What could you do against him? Against one of the Endless? 
You had never been more vulnerable in love. 
You could imagine the think pieces about this power imbalance. 
Morpheus blinks.
He steps forward, closing the distance between you and him once again. His thumb strokes your cheekbone. “Do you not trust me?” His voice is steady. 
You take in the glassiness of his eyes. You’d wounded him. 
“I love you,” you reply softly.
“Then allow that to be enough.” 
“Is it,” your voice is small. You hated how young it made you sound. 
Morpheus leads into you, his forehead resting against yours. “You are right. I demand more than any human lover would, but I am not so fickle. As milenia pass by, at the end of this universe, when my sweet sister comes for me, I will still love you as I do in this moment, come what may.” He kisses the corner of your lips. “Allow me to show you the extent of my devotion.” 
His words stir a passion within you. You treasured this side of him, the rare moments he opened himself up to you, only ever in private. 
“Alright,” you let out a breath, “convince me Dream Lord.” 
As he peers at you through dark lashes so intensely that you feel as if your soul was laid bare to him, you wonder exactly what you got yourself into. Perhaps this was the sweetest mistake. 
Now that you’d granted your permission, Morpheus at last allowed himself to let go of his inhibitions. He took care, closely guarding himself as he went through the world, fulfilling his responsibilities. He was aware that others believed him to be cold and dour, and nothing more. He cared little what people thought of him. 
With you, he would let himself give in to the carnal hungers that he had set aside for over a century. In love, he was all Dream. 
Morpheus kisses you, pressing his body against yours. There’s no hesitant stiffness, his hand trailing down to rest on the side of your neck as he sucks on your bottom lip.
You’d yearned for this. 
The hungry way he kisses you, holds you near, here, in the Waking World. You never actually thought this would happen, not even when you caught him staring. You can’t help but grasp at the lapels of his coat, your fingers clutching the fabric, anchoring yourself in this moment as Morpheus kissed you the way you’d first imagined it would be like to kiss, stealing your breath away. This was real, this was happening. 
You part your lips, sighing when Morpheus runs his tongue over the swell of your mouth. His hand pulls at the hem of your t-shirt, moving it out of the way. He rests his palm on your abdomen causing goosebumps to erupt across your skin. 
You meet his tongue with your own, tasting him as he explores your mouth. 
Morpheus threads his fingers through the hair at your nape, tilting your head back. You whine when he pulls at your hair. 
He begins planting hard kisses down your throat, sucking hard at your skin in a way that is sure to leave marks come morning. “Would it be so terrible to be mine,” he utters, before nipping at your collarbone.
You whimper in reply. This was not how you expected the conversation to go. Thinking had become superfluous. 
What did wit matter when you had Morpheus snaking his hand up your stomach, leaving you feverish as a shiver ran down your spine. He was the ice to the fire catching within you as he cups your left breast in his hand. Morpheus squeezes gently.
You cover his hand with your own, separated by the fabric of your worn shift, meeting his endless gaze. “No,” you reply in a daze. “No it would-”
He twists your nipple, cutting you off. 
“Fuck.” You push at the lapels of his coat, demanding more from him. 
Morpheus sucks a kiss in the hollow of your throat, his grip on your hair unyielding. “Undress for me my love,” he implores hoarsely. “I wish to see you, all of you.” 
“Anything,” you breathe as he meets your lips once more. You taste him, the feel of his tongue against yours. He was ozone, cloying the way resin drew you in. 
Parting from him made you ache, even if it was for only moments as Morphues finished drawing your shirt up. You pull it over your head, discarding the shirt entirely. 
A spike of uncertainty runs through you. Suddenly you were incredibly aware of the waistband of your jeans, the softness of your stomach. The self consciousness you’d had at thirteen threatens to rise then and there. 
Morpheus cups your face in his hands, “Is this everything you dreamed of,” he utters, kissing your jaw. 
“Voyeur,” you accuse with a smirk. You’d felt his presence in your dreams before: had tried in vain to catch a glimpse of Morpheus to no avail. 
He doesn’t deign your comment with a reply, silencing you with a passionate kiss that leaves you weak at the knees. There was nothing measured about the Dream Lord now. His grip was harsh, as his hands find their way to your breast, caressing your sensitive skin. Your nipples are hard, your chest heaving. 
It’s heady when Morpheus rolls your nipples in his thumbs, swallowing your keening whine in his mouth. You're already lost in him, against him. His body was the only thing keeping you upright, you leaned onto him. 
He was wearing too many clothes.
Again, you push at his coat, feeling his toned chest under your hands for the first time. 
“Patience.”
Morpheus lowers his head, taking one of your breasts in his mouth, sucking at your tit while he pinches the other, eliciting gasping moans from you. It was a level of supplication in his passion that left you reeling. The King of Dreams proved himself an attentive lover.
Your core grew wet in response to his ministrations. 
You run your fingers through his unkempt hair. His dark locks were soft and silky, there was nothing to suggest that it would stick up as much as it does. You curl your fingers in his hair, moaning his name when he swirls his tongue on your nipple. “Morpheus,” you mewl. 
The wet pop of his mouth releasing your breast fills the room. “Yes,” he whispers, managing to sound haughty in the dim light of the room. 
Your apartment has atrocious light. 
Morpheus trails his hands languidly down your sides, kissing the valley between your breasts, nipping at your flesh as he undoes the button of your jeans. He’s nimble, making quick work of your zipper. He works your jeans down, slipping his hands under.
You wrap your hands around his neck, burrowing your nose in his hair. 
Anticipation curls your toes. 
He pulls away, finally sliding his coat off. Morpheus folds the long coat before setting it on your coffee table, his movements languid, betraying none of the passion of earlier moments. 
You take initiative, pulling down your jeans. The heat under your skin rose, desperate for Morpheus, desperate to be touched again. You wanted to feel him inside you.
You shake your ankles free of your jeans and Morpheus takes your hips in his hands, digging his fingers into your skin harshly. 
“Morpheus,” you gasp.
“Yes?”
“I need you,” you utter, barely able to think. He’d succeeded in blotting out anything in the world that was not him. You were his. 
The thrum of need electrifies your body. 
You slide your fingers under his dark shirt, basking in the erotic way his skin feels against yours: the flexing of his muscles under your touch. 
He smiles at your words, your Dream Lord. He looks radiant at your words, hearing what was clear from how affected you were by him. “As do I,” he replies hoarsely. Morpheus kisses you once more. With his hands, he jolts you, turning you around without warning. “Kneel.”
“A please would go a long way,” you groan when his fingers brush over your knickers, feeling the damp fabric. 
You tremble, barely able to hold yourself up. 
He presses a kiss to the back of your neck, his hands on your shoulder. “Please,” he whispers against your skin, before forcing you down onto your knees. 
You could no longer see him, only feel his presence look behind you. 
You swallow thickly as the moment goes on.
Then Morpheus gets down behind you, pressing his bare chest against your back. 
You shudder. 
He wraps an arm around your chest, cupping your breast in his palm. 
You steady yourself, gripping the armrest of your couch when he shoves your knickers aside, brushing over your wet slit. 
“Wet for me already,” Morpheus’ breath splays over your back. He larves his tongue up your spine. “Who do you belong to,” he asks, dipping a finger into your entrance. 
Your hips buck. 
“Tell me,” he commands, hunger filling his voice. The words of a king. Morpheus sinks his teeth into your shoulder in sync with his thumb tracing circles around your clit. 
The most exquisite of pain radiates where he bites you. Your moans fill the room.
“Yours,” you whimper as you arch your back, trying to increase the sweet pleasure of his fingers against your core “yours. I’m yours. Only yours Morpheus.” 
He takes the waistband of your knickers in hand and pulls hard. 
You whine, the fabric digging into you as it gives way.
The fabric rips. 
Your knickers are left in scraps. 
“You are right,” he utters darkly, the possessive edge of his love rising, “you are mine.” He drags his fingers down your slit, teasing, “this is mine.” Morpheus rolls your nipple against his thumb. “All mine.” He bends you over the couch. 
Eagerly, you spread your legs, opening yourself up to him. 
“And you will take what I give you,” he tells you lowly as he lines his cock with your entrance, “and love it.” Morpheus pushes into your aching core. 
You gasp. Your pussy throbs as his cock stretches you out. His cock twitches inside you and you, “fuck!” You shudder, your knuckles going white as you cling to the sofa. “Morpheus.”
He’s past foreplay and teasing, pulling out so that only the head of his cock remains inside you before thrusting in again. He grips your hip, kissing your shoulder as his hips snap, thrusting hard into you. Again, and again. 
“Morpheus,” you moan. A prayer. The answer to your prayers. It didn’t matter. You were carried along on waves of pleasure. Blood rushed to your head. Your heart pounded as Dream of the Endless had his way with you. 
You arch your back, canting your hips to meet his. 
He fucked hard and brutal, all passion. 
And the groans he made were all the sweeter for it. 
He trailed his hand down your chest, reaching between your thighs as he fucked you in your living room. His pace was unyielding. You were along for the ride, clinging on, trying to savor every second as your pleasure threatened to overwhelm like a wave dragging you under. 
Morpheus had thoroughly teased you. 
Now, as he stroked your clit, he aimed to have you come undone. To leave you debauched. 
Finally you understood what Madonna’s Like a Virgin was about. 
He whispers against the shell of your ear, his own breathing ragged, “come for me,” he commands, his deep voice always went right to the very pit of you, “beloved.” Morpheus presses the meat of his palm down over your mound, increasing the pleasure you felt as he filled you with his cock. 
It was too much. 
Your back against him; how full you were, practically split open by his cock; how much you wanted this, wanted to live in this moment.
Your toes curl-
White hot pleasure overrides everything else. 
“Oh, fuck,” you go, eyes squeezed shut. You were boneless, weightless: bright firework lights after the bang. His touch scorched, running cold, leaving you blazing. 
It was Morpheus’ grip on you, his cock sinking in, working you through your orgasm, chasing his own pleasure. He alone anchored you to this realm. 
As you’re in the throes of your orgasm, Morpheus continues to fuck you. His thrusts are erratic with more force than you imagined from the lean anthropomorphic personification. He gropes your ass, before smacking your asscheck. 
You yelp, jolting forward, clenching around him as spent as you are.
“That’s it my love,” he barely manages. His movements have lost any rhythm, any coherence in his actions is gone as the Dream Lord comes inside you. 
You rest your head on the armrest, whimpering, all fucked out after one round which speaks for itself. There’s no disappointment about how fucking Morpheus would be; for once the dream pales compared to the reality. 
He rests his cheek against your nape as he finishes pumping the last of his cum into you. Both fucked out. 
Your hold on the sofa finally relaxes, your body goes limp. 
Morpheus shifts behind you, and dread fills you at the idea of him leaving so soon.
“Don’t go,” you raise your head, looking over your shoulder at him.
He’s all sinew and muscle, pearlescent skin practically glowing which suggests his inhuman nature. You want to wrap your arms around his waist and curl up. Morpheus has always come and gone on his own schedule that only he was privy to, and you didn't want to wait who knows how many days to see him again. 
“Have you no faith in me my love,” he asks gently, wrapping an arm around your waist and moving you along with him. 
He lays on the floor. 
You rest your head on his chest. “There’s a perfectly good sofa right there,” you point out.
Morpheus doesn’t answer, his hand rubbing patterns on your back. 
You sigh, breathing in the scent of him. 
“I cannot stay for long,” he frowns.
You kiss his chest languidly, “I know.” Like Ned Stark, he loved upholding his responsibilities, and rules of his own design. You nip at his skin, leaving your own mark on the Dream Lord. 
Morpheus sighs headily, his eyes falling shut and you fully immerse yourself in the moment.
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ibrithir-was-here · 4 months
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Tada! Merry Christmas to @andtheirlovewasrenewed !
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I hope you enjoy this Christmas card from the Lots O Kids Dreamling AU (per your request of "Dreamling Being Dads") and that you have a wonderful holiday!
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athousandyearstime · 1 year
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Then curl up by the fire and sleep for awhile It’s the perfect dream
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bakerstreethound · 1 year
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Morpheius and a reader who has insomnia…..that’s all I got man, sorry 😅
I finally got around to meddling with this, I absolutely love the idea for I too would love to have his company on those late nights. But also it would be fun to be very stubborn around him to see what he does. I'm considering making this a blurb later down the line when my writing/inspiration well is fuller.
Sleepless Nights
All writings belong to me @bakerstreethound (Do NOT copy, claim, repost or translate my works to any other sites. I only publish here and on A03 under the same username)
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It’s a struggle to get you to the Dreaming each night
Morpheus sometimes has to resign to sprinkling dream sand on you so you’re not up for 24 hours 
You roll your eyes at him and his disapproving stare while you read in bed
He plops next to you, sometimes resorting to his cat form
How could you resist him like that? He thinks. He purrs nonstop and give those big cat eyes 
Nope you still don’t fall asleep
His nickname should’ve been Sulkiness of the Endless
He does something different this time, popping out of existence, not that you notice long, because his presence has felt more comforting lately
You don’t want to admit that to yourself right now, because where’s the fun in that?
Morpheus moping is very cute but he also looks so pathetic you can’t help but open your arms to him and he crawls on top of you, pinning you into the mattress
“You can’t will me to sleep, Morpheus,” you smirk as he tilts your chin up and kisses you heatedly, which you respond to almost immediately a soft groan falling from you as you wrap your arms around him together, wanting more. 
He breaks away for a minute, the smirk you had earlier mirrored on his face. 
“If only I could convince you to come to the Dreaming as easily…” his voice is ancient, deep, dark, alluring from another time it hypnotizes you with every word and you find yourself falling further and further into him as your fingers fiddle with his unruly hair. 
Somehow, you find yourself to be more relaxed the worries of your mind easing up the closer he presses himself against you, almost drowning you like a weighted blanket. 
You press your forehead against his before kissing him gently, in silent thanks. You didn’t want to admit defeat yet but you can’t resist the glimmering promise in Morpheus’ eyes if you’d join him early in the Dreaming. 
For there is so much he wants to explore and show you, perhaps put to good use as well…
******
@lilythemadqueen @frostandflamesfanfic @novaracer @starks-hero @azu21 @strangelockd @roguelov @dearly-dreaming @starstruck-loner @wint3r-h3art @rosaren2498
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mxliv-oftheendless · 2 years
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Pretty Cute
Morpheus (Dream of the Endless) x male!reader
So I noticed there was a CRIMINAL lack of male!reader fics for Morpheus, and that’s just a travesty if you ask me. So as the saying goes, when you want something done, you do it yourself. To all my lovely mlm brothers/siblings in the Sandman fandom, this is for you! Love you, dearies. *blows kisses* Now enjoy! 
(If it’s unclear, you work at a library at the circulation desk)
Since you’re dating the King of Dreams, your relationship with him is very private. And you like it that way... but you’d like it more if your fellow library employees weren’t so obsessed with learning more about him. 
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There were many things you loved about Morpheus. He was a sweet, loving man behind the cold front. He cared so deeply, despite initially being guarded, not wanting his heart crushed by the person he felt so strongly for. You felt honored, almost, that you got to see this caring side of him. Yes, you loved Morpheus.
The only thing you didn’t love about being with Morpheus…
“Soooo, any plans with your boyfriend tonight?”
… was that your co-workers had become obsessed with him.
Don’t misunderstand, you loved your library job. After a string of jobs with terrible work environments and even worse co-workers and bosses, the library was heaven. Good hours, good pay, and you had become friends with all the other people that worked there. You’d subjected Morpheus to countless regalements of your job, whether it be about the kids you met, your co-workers, or the antics of patrons, and he always listened with a sweet smile.
Your co-workers meant well, you knew that (or at least hoped). You also hadn’t dated anyone in a while before meeting Morpheus, which meant they were overjoyed for you. But that also meant they were curious about the man who, as Tracey the romantic put it, had stolen your heart and carried it with him.
“Don’t you have to go do book drop?” You asked Katie rather than answer the question.
“Caroline’s doing book drop. Now answer the question!”
You sighed. “Yes, we do have plans. He’s going to take me back to… to his place.” You weren’t entirely sure how to say he was going to take you to the Dreaming.
“Oooh, Y/N’s gettin’ some action,” Bek crowed from where they were processing books.
You could feel your face turning red. “Shut up, Bek,”
Bek laughed. “Okay, okay, I’m sorry. I’m sure it’ll be the kind of disgustingly romantic date you deserve.”
“Is Y/N going out with his boyfriend tonight?” Caroline popped up from coming back from shelving books. “Does this mean we’ll get to meet him finally?”
“No, I’m supposed to meet him when I get home,” you replied. In all honesty, you were glad Morpheus never showed up to your job. You could handle your nosy co-workers, but they would definitely ask him millions of questions and you weren’t sure if he would be ready for that.
“Are you going to have a movie night or something?” Caroline asked interestedly.
“That is classified information,”
“Y/N, when are we going to meet him?” Liv asked as they perched on a surface with their water bottle. “Does he have social anxiety? ‘Cause that’s totally valid.”
“Well… sort of…”
“Ohhh, does he just hate people?” Your hesitant silence seemed to answer their question. “Hey, I totally get that. I hate talking to people I don’t know.”
“But we’re Y/N’s friends,” Bek said as they cleared their workspace. “He’s going to meet us eventually, right?”
“Not if Y/N keeps being so secretive about him,” Katie teased. “We don’t even know his name or what he does.”
“I bet he’s secretly a psycho,” Liv stated as they hopped off the desktop. “Like, he killed a bird once and it released so many endorphins that he’s always wondered how to make it happen again.”
“How cheerful, Liv,” you said dryly. “And no, he’s never killed a bird. He loves birds, actually.” You wondered what would happen if Matthew heard Liv say that. 
“Oh, sweet,”
“So does he work with birds?”
You sighed exasperatedly. “No, Katie. He just likes them.” Before she could say anything else, you stopped her. “Don’t you have MelCat holds to trap?”
“Oh yeah, I actually do. I forgot about them.”
You watched in relief as she went off to take care of the MelCat holds, and went back to checking your email. The Circ Two desk was usually slow around this time of day.
“So… is he a writer?”
“Katie!” You threw your hands up in frustration and turned to look at where she sat at her desk.
“I’m just asking!” Katie defended herself. “From how you describe him, he sounds like a writer!”
“No, he’s not a writer,” you said firmly. “Just like how he’s not secretly a psycho.”
“Hey man, he could be,” Liv argued from where they had replaced Bek processing books. “Or maybe he’s a writer AND a secret psycho like Ric Madoc. You guys hear what happened to him?”
You only knew his name from how many holds had been placed on his books. They were pretty popular. “No, what?”
“Guy had a meltdown at a book reading and wrote on the walls with his own blood, then told someone he had a woman locked up in his house.”
You couldn’t help balking at that. “Jesus Christ, seriously?
“Okay, to be fair, they didn’t find anyone when they searched the house, but still. Crazy. You sure your boyfriend’s never written with his own blood?”
“I’m sure we all want to know more about Y/N’s partner,” Sara suddenly appeared, much to your relief, “but he’ll tell us when he’s ready to.”
“Thank you, Sara,” you said gratefully, nodding and gesturing to her. “That’s exactly what I’ll do.”
“… But it would be nice to know his name,”
You turned to give her a look of utter betrayal. “Et tu, Sara?”
Sara have you a sheepish smile. “Sorry, Y/N. You don’t have to tell us his name if you really don’t want to. It’s your life, not ours.”
It wasn’t just that. You weren’t sure if you even could explain Morpheus to them. How could you say to your fellow human co-workers that you were dating the personification of all their dreams?
“Listen,” you said, trying to be as gentle yet as firm as possible, “I know you guys mean well, and I know you want to look out for a friend, but Sara’s right. I like my privacy, and my partner likes his privacy too. I’ll tell you more about him when he and I are ready to. But I’m happy; I swear, I’m probably the happiest I’ve ever been with him. He’s… incredible. Just amazing.” You didn’t realize that a smile was forming on your face as you thought of Morpheus. “Okay?”
Your co-workers were quiet for a moment, then Katie sighed. “Okay.” She smiled at you. “I’m glad you’re happy, at least.”
“Yeah, you deserve it, man,” Liv agreed, nodding.
“Absolutely,” Caroline echoed.
Your smile widened at their response. You really did love this motley bunch. “Thank you, guys,”
“You’re always welcome, Y/N,” Sara said with a kind smile. “Now Caroline, I think you’re supposed to do the book drop?”
~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~
And with that, your work day continued. You went on your lunch break, shelved some books, manned the front circulation desk, and eventually returned to the back desk. The whole time, your mind was on thoughts of Morpheus and your date tonight. You missed him… even though you’d seen him a few days ago. But you couldn’t help missing him when he got so busy ruling over the Dreaming. Maybe over the weekend you could visit Lucienne and catch up with your favorite librarian (not that you told the librarians at your job that).
You couldn’t help wondering how he’d react if he knew of his popularity with your co-workers. He no doubt knew who they all were from their dreams. Would he be amused, or annoyed? You felt like he’d be annoyed.
It was the last hour of your shift when it happened. Liv was up at the front circulation desk, while you were once more at the back desk, going over your assigned reports and grumbling about how that damn library was dragging their feet putting the stupid book in transit.
“Hi there!” You heard Liv chirp as they usually did when a patron came up to the desk. “Is there anything I can help you with?”
“I am looking for Y/N L/N.”
You froze. No… that wasn’t… why was he here?
Your heart began to quicken in pace as you got up from your chair. He’d never come to the library while you were working before.
To Liv’s credit, they didn’t realize who it was at first. “I’m sorry, who?”
“Y/N L/N. He works here.”
“Um… I’m sorry, but I don’t—”
“It’s okay, Liv,” you interrupted as you walked out to the front desk. “I know who he is.”
And sure enough, there he was, standing at the desk in a black pea coat, black clothes, and presumably his black combat boots. Morpheus. He looked up, and his face immediately softened when your eyes met.
Your heart raced even faster, and you smiled back. “This is a surprise,” you couldn’t help saying.
Morpheus gave a tiny shrug.
Liv was looking between the two of you in confusion… then realization dawned on their face. “Is he…?” They pointed at him.
You sighed and nodded. “Yes, Liv. It’s him.”
A grin of pure excitement crept onto their face as they turned back to Morpheus. “It is so great to finally meet you!” they exclaimed. “You’re pretty famous around here! We’ve been dying to know about Y/N’s boyfriend that hopefully treats him like the king he is.”
You had to fight back a laugh at the blank look Morpheus gave them. He blinked once. “I…” he awkwardly trailed off.
“Liv,” you came to his rescue and tapped them on the shoulder, “I think you’re overwhelming him.”
“Oh! Oh, sorry,” they apologized. “Actually, I think that guy over there is coming back with some donations, so… I’ll just. Go. Do that.” They awkwardly waved at Morpheus. “Nice to meet you.”
Morpheus dipped his head at them. Liv respectfully didn’t say anything else and went to go get the mentioned donations.
You stepped closer and gave Morpheus a loving smile, wishing you could kiss him right there in the library. “You’re early,”
A smile appeared on his handsome face. “I missed you,”
“I missed you too. But… why are you here?”
“Do you not want me here?”
“No! God no, I am so happy to see you. But you’ve never come to the library before. I thought you were going to meet me at my house.”
“I was.” Morpheus leaned in closer. “But I missed you too much, my love.”
Your heart fluttered in your chest. “You are amazing, you know that?”
Morpheus’s smile widened affectionately. Then he glanced over your shoulder. “Is it true what Olivia said?”
“What?” You turned around to see Liv’s silhouette in the tinted window that showed the back room. Katie and Corey’s shadows were there too, and Liv was waving their hands around in the animated way they did when they got excited. “Oh,” you sighed sheepishly. “Yeah, they… they’re really curious about you. They get really nosy sometimes, probably more so because I never tell them anything. I’m sorry Liv said that to you.”
“Why have you not told them anything?”
“Well, I know you like your privacy, and I didn’t want you to get overwhelmed by them.” You couldn’t help laughing softly. “They’ve got a million questions about you.”
“Perhaps one day…” Morpheus mused.
You blinked in surprise. “Really?” You couldn’t help the delighted smile. “Great, because I have wanted to brag about my amazing boyfriend for ages now.”
“Is that why you are with me?” Morpheus said in a teasing voice. “For the bragging rights?”
“Well, not the only reason,” you chuckled. You gave into temptation and leaned across the counter to kiss him on the cheek. “I am also madly in love with you.”
The widest smile you’d ever seen so far graced Morpheus’s face. “As I am with you, my love,”
You blushed happily… then remembered where you were. “W-Well, listen, it’s,” you looked over your shoulder to check the clock behind you, “4:40 right now, so I get off in twenty minutes. Do you want to sit and wait until then? Or you can go back to my apartment and wait there.”
“I will wait here,” Morpheus decided. He gave you a soft smile that made you melt. “For you, I would wait for hours.”
“G-Great,” you managed through your wide grin. “Th-The, uh, the mystery section is over there.” You pointed in the direction of the mysteries. “Th-The fiction is before it.”
“Thank you.” He gave you one last beautiful smile. “Perhaps I will ask for a library card.”
You managed a breathy laugh as he turned around and headed for the mystery section.
When you returned to the back desk, you were met with Liv, Katie, and Corey, who all had eager smiles on their faces. “Soooo?” Katie asked.
Your face turned red. “Shut up, Katie,”
“Aww, he’s so red!” Corey teased. “I understand why; he’s cute.”
“Can all of you please stop?” 
“So you admit that he’s cute,” Liv said smugly.
“You know what…”
You trailed off, then turned to look out the tinted window in the direction Morpheus had gone. You smiled, and turned back to your endearingly nosy friends. “Yeah. He is pretty cute.”
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arthurcantsleep · 1 year
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I can't stop thinking about the Hope AU so here are some of my thoughts.
Hope and Death wandering into a tavern in Italy in 1389, to have a drink and mingle, when Hope sees a group of philosophers discussing death.
"I simply find the concept, outside of discussion of the afterlife, too simple. One must struggle all their lives to make something for themselves only to end up in the ground? Seems a waste." A tall pale man in the corner says as if it's really so simple. He's beautiful. "I won't do it. You know what one such as I could accomplish in 100 years?"
"you like that one, don't you?" Death says as she rests her head on Hope's shoulder. He can only manage a smile in response. "Then I shall grant his wish. Would you like to go and tell him?"
"Pardon me but am I to understand that you don't intend on dying?" Hope says to the man in front of him. the other men laugh, but his man, Morpheus just sits up straighter and replies
"No I do not" "I can't wait to see what you accomplish in 100 years then,"
1489 they meet and Hope can barely even focus on anything but the beautiful red tint the wine had left on Morpheus' lip as he asks, quite haughtily, if he has made a devil's bargain. Hope offers him another drink and tells him that he only wishes to understand humanity.
They leave late that night, practically morning time, and Hope has so much to tell Death. So much that she can only smile too knowing as he babbles on.
1589 they meet in Paris this time, and the smell of the city is awful and it's so dirty, but Morpheus is doing quite well for himself as an astronomer and he's been studying the stars and tell Hope about constellations and the stories they tell. He calls Hope Stranger and Hope, feeling a little too seen and a little silly, realizes he has never told Morpheus who he was.
1689, they meet in a tiny town in Ireland. Morpheus looks too thin and his finery has been replaced with simpler unembroidered cloth. He was tried for witch craft and chased through Europe and had to change his identity and is now a bounty hunter.
"they have become quite Catholic since I was last here," Morpheus tells him. "I have offended them with my lack of faith I think," And then he smiles. "Are you Jesus?"
Fast forward to 1889. Hope is in love. He wants to tell Morpheus, wants to enter the little English tavern they settled on and tell it from the rooftops. Morpheus, a surgeon this century, walks in and takes his breath away. All dressed up in his tailored suit and talking of the new Germ Theory that has saved lives.
And then-
"I'm glad you are doing so well, my friend," Hope says and reaches across to rest his hand on Morpheus'. Those shocking blue eyes watched, but he didn't pull away at the touch. "I have a proposal of sorts. Our arrangement, I feel, has changed."
"what do you mean?"
"What I mean to say, is that I have really enjoyed our meetings and I think you have too. I have become quite lonely, so many centuries and millenia on my own, and I think you have been lonely too. I thought perhaps, we could meet more often." Hope felt the hand in his and resisted the urge to squeeze it. "As friends."
Morpheus looked sick. He went both pale and red as his eyes went from Hope's face to their hands. "I don't understand."
"are we not friends?" Hope asked, pleaded, really.
"Look at us." Morpheus said. "You've never even told me who you are! What you are! I am one of the most brilliant minds Europe has ever had. I don't need your company." He ripped his hand away and started gathering his things.
"what if you do? Why does that make you so upset?" Hope pleads as he follows his closest friend out of the door. Morpheus is very pointedly not responding. "I'll still be here. This pub in a hundred years, and I expect an apology!"
Hope doesn't make it to that bar in the next century. He's been locked up for quite some time. He doesn't even know when Morpheus shows up with a bouquet of wildflowers and waits all night for him.
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beaulesbian · 2 years
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I’ll tell you what, I’ll be here in 100 years’ time. If you’re here then too, it’ll be because we’re friends. No other reason, right?
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nathanwonderwolf · 9 months
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Morpheus won't give up on Hob, even if he becomes the end of everything
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I don't have any specific idea for this AU, I just draw whatever comes to my mind.¯⁠\⁠_⁠(⁠ツ⁠)⁠_⁠/⁠¯
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atr3ldes · 1 year
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"And, for my soul, what can it do to that, Being a thing immortal as itself?"
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roguelov · 9 months
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Feel free to ignore this, but what if Morpheus has an s/o with autism and they are on the verge of a breakdown. Morpheus racks his brain to think of things they do all the time and suddenly grabs thier headphones and putting them on, playing her favorite playlist as he's holding her and it's just so cute.
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I got you!!! We need some soft supportive Dream
It was too much.
Everything grated on your nerves and senses: the echoing steps of visitors in the castle, the constant unwavering hum of people talking, the high pitched buzzing from the lights in the library, it was all too much.
And when it was too much, you started to get irritated, and when that happened the tears of frustration quickly followed.
You ran to your shared bedroom, desperately seeking shelter. However, upon entering, you were assaulted again with more irritation from the suffocating smoke and annoying popping and crackling of the wood from the once peaceful fire.
Now, you curled up into a tight ball onto the bed, trying to block out the world.
Dream luckily saw you run off and followed behind you, seeing as tears threatened to spill out. Stepping inside the room, he immediately waved his hand distinguishing the fire. He stared heartbroken, trying to rack his brain on how to help you. He had seen you in such a state before, but it had been a while since your last episode.
What do you do? No, what can he do to help? You needed his help in this moment.
It suddenly clicked.
He rushed over to your nightstand, producing your noise canceling headphones. “My dear, can you sit up for me?” He whispered quietly.
You didn’t move at first, but ever so slowly sat up. You refused to look at him as you fought back the tears. Your whole body was wrought tight with tension.
Dream carefully slid your headphones over your ears. He scrolled through your phone, pressing play on your favorite playlist.
The tension in the shoulders and jaw lessened a little.
Dream crawled into the bed, beside you. “Are you okay for me to hold you?”
You slowly nodded.
He gently brought you down to his chest. You sighed deeply. He wrapped his coat around you, blocking out the world for you.
You closed your eyes, snuggling into him. The music and the sensation of only him grounded you again. “Thank you,” you mumbled.
“Of course, now relax, my dear. I got you,” he hummed.
Dream held you and never let you go.
And he didn’t let anyone dare disturb you.
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