morpheus x reader oneshots & headcanons

give me everything you've got

No relationship is perfect; it's a fact as immutable as which direction the sun rises from. The first fight, though, is always a stark reminder of this. That the person you care so deeply for and have shared so much with over the past days, weeks, months isn't perfect and has faults. The first fight, though nobody wants it to happen, will, inevitably, happen.

And your first fight with Morpheus is a bad one.

It had been three months since you and Morpheus had shared a heated first kiss in a crowded bar, three months since the man of your dreams turned out to be both real and still the man of your dreams. Those three months had been bliss, to put it simply. You looked forward to falling asleep every night, for that meant you could spend uninterrupted time with your love in his realm. He's insanely busy, of course, being the anthropomorphic personification of dreams and nightmares. Even just being in his presence, sitting on the Shores of Creation and watching as he creates new dreams and nightmares or reading in the library in your own chair and listening to him and Lucienne discuss matters related to the realm, was a gift that you don't think you'll ever take for granted.

But then, of course, the other shoe had to drop. The beautiful bubble of a honeymoon phase that you were living in was bound to pop, suddenly and harshly. Foolishly, you had hoped that things between you and Morpheus would always be like this, with both of you on the same page. That, of course, was nothing more than a mere pipe dream, because two people (or, one person and one eldritch being) will never be completely on the same page for every single thing.

The first time you had seen the raven, perched on the overhang of the cafe you were currently waiting for your friends outside of, you had thought nothing more than "oh, it looks like Matthew," before going back on your merry way. After all, ravens are pretty common birds, and Matthew seemed like a pretty important raven. Surely it wasn't him; surely he had better things to do than to trail you. It was simply just a coincidence.

Over the next week, however, you kept seeing a raven everywhere you went. When you left the store carrying bags of groceries, one was circling overhead. When you took your lunch break outside on a particularly nice afternoon, there it was, staring at you from another picnic table. When you were finally getting around to loading the dishwasher, it was sitting on your windowsill.

It was like that mental exercise when someone tells you not to think about a yellow car and then you see yellow cars everywhere. Only, you were certain that this was the same raven, and that this raven was Matthew, due to the fact that this raven tried a little too hard to act like a normal raven. As long as you weren't directly looking at the raven, then it would just stare at you in a way that gave you the creeps. The moment that you turned to look, then it would suddenly start pecking at the ground or preening itself. Convenient. Too convenient, in your opinion.

Finally, you decide that you're going to confront him. You go out onto your porch to water the little garden that you're trying to cultivate, and there he is, sitting on the railing and staring right at you. As you go about your watering, he continues to just stare. Once you've finished, you whip your head up, fast enough that he doesn't have time to pretend like he wasn't watching you.

"Matthew, I know it's you," you say to save him the embarrassment of having to keep up the act.

Though the raven tries not to look at you, eventually he knows that the jig is up. He hops closer to you and still doesn't look at you, but now due to the guilt he's obviously feeling. "Uh, hi."

"Hi. You've been following me around." It's not a question, because you know that he's been doing exactly that.

Matthew looks about as sheepish as a raven can possibly look. "You caught me."