morpheus x reader oneshots & headcanons

holy

Dream could only do so much for an angel of the most high. He could offer you the most solemn praises, the most gracious reverence, but then what was his worship against a desperate human, praying to their god for deliverance, and to see you as an answer?

Dream lacked the apt wherein his voice would tremble at the mere idea of you. He had seen death and destruction, they were quite literally related. Desire and delight were of his blood as well, and so a response that which would be of his siblings' manner was impossible. And so the mortal awe that would have been there at the sight of you was not.

He could offer you dreams. And Dream of Dreams did he offer for you.

Epics, mythos, odes, hymns, poems, paintings, frescos, dreams, he offered them all to you.

Yet it was not enough to comfort you during the fall of your half, your beloved twin Morningstar, who descended from grace and was banished into hell. Yet it was not enough during the battle with your Lucifer, that caused ripples and of light and dark to break into the fabrics of reality. It was not enough after the holy wars, nor after the resolution of your sibling's fate to become the ruler of hell.

For what was he to you in those moments? Beyond a spectator, beyond a Dream that could speak only so much words of comfort, for comfort was not in his nature, not really.

And even after all these eons, after loving each other during the early dawns of existence, as you walked with him, hand in hand, in Valhalla, he felt so far away, so infinitesimal against your being. He was a speck amidst the immense adoration your winged she-cousins were crying out to you with.

Dream watched as the Valkyries offered you flowers and honey and music and kisses. He watched as you, his love, was loved so tenderly.

It was most usual of them to do so, it was the natural order of things, it was only right, and yet his dark cloak seeped through the threshold of Valhalla and cut the merrymaking of the heavenly hosts almost instantly. Your smile too fades away as you turn to him.

Good.
And so you took in his darkness kindly, and bid farewell to your cousins, allowing Dream to take you into his own realm, to keep all for himself.

"Why does darkness weep from you, lover?" you ask as Dream drags you into the Dreaming, a flurry of glittering black powdering the ground in which he walked.

He decides to lead you into the throne room, where therein he allows himself to let his dark clouds pour.

Dream takes you into his hold and nuzzles his face into your neck. Readily, you wrap your arms and massive dark wings around him, muttering sweet words in the tongue of angels as comfort.

Momentarily there was comfort, but then he remembers the songs of the Valkyrie and feels spite bubble beneath him once more.

You were naturally high and mighty in stature, and he, well, his form was not bound to a body. So he decidedly makes his form smaller against you, his face no longer high enough to reach your neck. He shrinks until he can perfectly presses his face in between your soft breasts.

You look down upon him and brush his hair back, "will you not respond?"

Dream scowls, and though you could not see it, you can imagine it. "You are my lover," he mutters against you, "I do not appreciate the competition."

You furrow your brows and pull away to look at him.

He does not relent and crushes himself closer into you, "do not disrespect me in my own domain by pushing me."

"My Dream."
"Yes, yes. I am your dream, so do not wallow in the sweet figments of others," he mutters as he tightens his hold against your torso, "I am not kind or pure like you, I am me. And I am as much a Nightmare as I am Dream."

And so you do not push him away and you stand there, embracing him for a long time.

"There is no competition, as you imagine it, dearest," you say as you cradle his form, "the Valkyrie were only greeting me the way they ought to."

"I know this," he mutters, ".... I don't care."
You press your lips together as you sigh.

"Do not sigh so tragically. I am king in this realm. I shan't be offended," he says as he presses his cheek firmer into your chest.

You raise a brow and decidedly pull both your arms and wings back.

"No! No- Do not-"

"Enough!" you blurt as you separate the two of you.

Dream looks up at you, feeling his insides burn and his face harden. He feels wronged, especially with the expression you give him. His form begins to morph into shadows and inflates around the room. Your form is soon overcome with darkness, but it does not phase you. Why would it? It was matter which the creator granted you dominion.

And so you grab him by the hems of his lightlessness and rip his entity off the surface of the throne room, allowing his form to manifest and dangle in your clutch. You raise your arm and he looks back at you from where he hangs.

"I do not appreciate your outburst, my love," you say firmly, to a point where your term of endearment makes him shake.

Dream drips from your grip and clumps before you as his normal build again, though his face dredged with despair, and his eyes are unable to gaze upon yours.

"It cannot be helped, my star," he says.

A flimsy excuse.

"I could hear their dreams come into completion as they beheld you in their realm. I could not bear it."

You make it a point to contain your sigh. "Then what am I to do with you?" you take his face in your hands, "shall I retreat at every moment you allow your jealousy to cloud your better judgement?"

Dream looks at you as you raise your brows at his glimmering eyes.

He parts his lips and inhales, "yes."

"Dream--"

"If you truly love me, then-"

"If you truly love me, understand that the praise I receive from others, no matter how overwhelming, does not compare still to that which I receive from you."

Dream is motionless as he takes in your glory. He draws in a deep breath then amplifies his form. He grows in size, up until you are craning your neck up at him. Only then does he places his lips on yours and wraps his arms around you and your wings.

You revel in his touch, body nearly melting at his devotion, at his affection in one of the most intimate forms he is capable.

When you pull away, you lean into Dream's touch as he brushes your cheek, "my love... you honor me with your ceaseless patience."

You smile at him and shake your head, "I honor you with my love, you foolish spirit."

Dream lovingly examines you for a while then purses his lips into a pout as he leans into you, pressing your foreheads together, "was your visit to Valkyries truly necessary though?"