#dark!morpheus

You break off with an exasperated huff. You have been at this for a while now. Palm flush with the wood of the door, trying to somehow channel the power within your soul to get out of the cage that Morpheus so effectively persuaded you into.

Moving closer, you lay your right cheek against the lacquered surface.

"Let me out of here," you whisper. "Please. Just let me out without him knowing. It can be our little secret."

It's not lost on you at how unhinged you sound - talking to an inanimate object, hoping to coax it into obedience but no other feasible course of action springs to mind. Not with the pressure of his return looming over you. There is no telling how long you have and the words he had spoken hadn't exactly given you faith that he was going to yield.

Escape is your sole option.

To get out of the palace and into whatever lies beyond its walls. There's no guarantee that you will find a way back to home but in the very least you will have space to think. A change of scenery usually brought benefits to mental clarity when you felt restricted, though your bindings were always non-physical.

The dire thought lets slip a humourless cackle. Being kidnapped wasn't exactly a consequence you had considered in accepting Morpheus' affections. Then again, do the majority think things will end badly when starting any kind of relationship? Not if the blindfold of lust had any say in the matter, you suppose, and you have no grounds whatsoever to say that your case is any different.

This also isn't an ending, you remind yourself. The end comes when all options have been exhausted and you haven't even begun to try.

You close your eyes and focus all effort onto mapping out the energy housed in your chest. Endeavouring to picture it. Opulent blue intertwining with the natural luminescence, showing your attachment to him and the potential for goodness knows what else.

His abilities could be limitless. Mind influencing. World altering. Universe conquering. But for now you just need simple. You hone in on that word, devoting every ounce of concentration to picturing one, single eventuality. The door no longer being in your path.

The threads of his power tremble as your manifestation sets in stone, in turn reaching out with the likeness of a handshake, nudging you to trust them with your getaway.

They whisper promises with their gentle touches, echoing your want, reaching out out out beyond the confines of your chest.

Let me through.

Your hand passes through the wood.

You stumble at the sudden boundary change, forearm following up to your elbow joint, breath hitching with an audible click as the fascinating realisation hits. The door is still there - for you can see it when you look down but its molecules have become as dense as vapour. All it takes is one large step and you're all the way through.

The hallway beyond is just as dark as you pictured, eerie even, but it doesn't deter you from throwing yourself into its gloomy unknown. A short landing gives way to a torch-lit stone staircase; you descend them at the briskest pace you can achieve without it feeling unsafe.

The sections wrap back and forth on each other, blocking everything more than a minute in front of you, fuelling your fear of interception even further. It's some time before you reach the bottom. There's no door; you simply walk out into a corridor. This confuses you. It seems too easy. You can't take it for granted though for you must keep moving.

You head for a window positioned about ten paces away from where you emerged. It's a shame that you are unable to appreciate the view for anything more than the 30 seconds you assign to finding your bearings. You're quite a way from the ground floor of the building, and also from the bridge that traverses a lake. It's clear that you need to move left and down.

You start with the first direction, creeping down the corridor, allowing yourself a bit of bandwidth to notice the details around you. The décor is gorgeous; with the intricately patterned wallpapers, the sunlight refracting prettily through the crystals of chandeliers, and the cabinets and credenzas laden with artefacts and trinkets - it's a world away from the horror that Morpheus had implied when discouraging your curiosity.

Every time you reach an intersection, you pause and listen - for footsteps, voices, any signs of life before launching hastily into the next stretch. Finding none is confusing for the size of the palace.

Surely there had to be someone else here?

You don't let the thought deter your progress. In fact, it becomes even brisker when you find a spiral staircase that takes you down into the belly of the castle. The speed of your heart rate makes you feel unsteady as you jog down for there is no where to hide in between the landings; each offshoot you clear without incident is a small victory.

Soon enough, according to a panoramic window you find in an airy antechamber, you are within touching distance of the ground floor and it's tough not to throw caution to the wind by ditching your hypervigilant measures. It is only the firmness of your inner voice that prevents you from ploughing ahead, and you are rewarded by the grand entrance hall.

The skeleton hanging from the ceiling makes your eyes widen. Manta ray like in form, its shadow flickers in the light cast by numerous candles and torches. Warmth thrown from those same flames bring a flush to your exposed skin as you sneak past the open archways leading off into other parts of the palace, and go for what can only be the front door.

It is the first one you have seen since you left Morpheus' chambers - an infinitely larger and grander one yet you don't let it intimidate you. Confidence sparks in your nerves as you approach and lift you hand. You don't even have to make contact for it to dissolve into translucency.

The change in air pressure sets all the mini fires behind you guttering violently. Golden light pours in. The windows set into the ceiling of the entrance hall had hinted at the strength of the sunlight outside, however you are wholly unprepared for the fortitude of the output from the winter sun that hangs low in the sky. It makes you squint, throwing a hand up to protect against its glorious glare as you register an unsettling noise in the distance. Like hardened keratin across a slate or the banshee cries of foxes, the notes of the sound cause chills to erupt all down your back. Everything about it indicates that something is wrong.

Perhaps it is the reason for which Morpheus was forced to leave. Concern niggles your conscience; was it a serious matter?

The thought is fleeting - you are going to use whatever it is to your advantage. You cross the threshold and take yet more steps down to the bridge.

It would be impossible to miss just how exposed you are going to be for the next part of your journey. There is nowhere to hide, nowhere to go if you are noticed by someone, except for jumping into the lake below. And while it looks perfectly placid, you are quite adverse to trying. The stillest of waters can often run the most dangerous.

You can't turn back now though. Not when you've got so far. Plus, come to think of it, would the adrenaline-spiking act really pose a risk to you? You are immortal after all.

Immortality. It's a horrific notion, one that you really don't want to accept as your truth, causing a quiver to permeate your body juddering all the way through to the bone. The very thing that defined your humanity had been taken. Snatched from you without forewarning and covered up by the person who had behaved towards you with such passion and tenderness. Apparently his affection didn't stretch that far though.

Your teeth clench in a show of anger. It's the secrecy of it all that stokes the fierce emotion. You cannot abide his deception, nor his disregard for your sanity. Going home is the only thing you want - to be among the people you love, those who don't lie and manipulate and coddle.

But even then, if you did manage to find a way back to your waking life, would you still have a place there with the immortality? It's not exactly something that people would overlook; their growing old while you remain frozen in time. All your relationships and interactions would be temporary, fleeting.

So caught up in your morbid thoughts, you are taken aback when your feet make contact with a surface other than stone.

Grass. The greenest you've ever seen, made dewy by the winds coming off of the water - you feel the mist clinging to your skin too.

With a curious gaze, you take in the village and the fishing boats to the right of you. The stillness here is not as profound as it was by the castle; an indication that there are likely people within the houses.

You pick your way along the path that runs adjacent to the village, enjoying the sink of your heels into the compacted peaty soil - though not quite enough to stop you from anxiously fiddling with the ring on your finger. The stakes feel infinitely higher now and you have to really stop yourself from squeaking when you hear a dulcet, gravelly voice coming from the house you have just walked by.

"Do you think it's over yet?"

Unable to control yourself, you pause in walking to curiously listen in. You've not heard another person except Morpheus since you got here.

A second voice answers, this one equally soothing. "From the lack of dreamers, I'm pretty sure the answer is still no."

"But I'm bored."

"I am more than aware, my dear."

The unmistakable noise of pacing footsteps starts up.

"Why can't we just go across to the pocket dimension that he sent the dreamers to?"

"I imagine because it is safer that they remain separate to everything made in the Dreaming, and because Lord Morpheus has bigger things to worry about than your boredom levels."

A couple of seconds of silence ensue.

"I guess you're right."

You hear the scrape of a chair's legs on floorboards.

"Would it help if we went on a walk together to pass the time?"

You don't wait to hear a reply; the risk of interception becoming a shade more realistic for your liking. You run, grateful for the muffling ground underfoot, silent as a deer. There are trees up ahead - they can be your cover.

Even when you reach them, you do not let your guard drop, choosing a much less straightforward route than perhaps is necessary, keeping to the grassy verges over the lone marked path; the crunch of frosty gravel too risky after such unimpeded progress.

That unsettling noise from before is dampened by the denseness of the trees; cedars and pines and firs standing strong in the winter air - and many other deciduous species that are hard for you to identify with the absence of their leaves. The mix of tree types is not particularly reflective of real world biomes but, as you remind yourself: this is a place of dreams. There are no fixed rules. It's a beautiful environment to be surrounded by, one that contributes to the slight calming of your heart rate.

The elevation of the terrain to the left of your vision field is sharply inclining leaving you with a choice: go up what you assume is a hill, or stay on your current course. The climb will no doubt slow you down but the lure of a lookout point is tempting. If only you had a coin to toss.

You opt for left and with every ascending step you take, you are prompted to wonder if it is adrenaline or immortality that's stopping your legs and feet from hurting. Whatever it is, it's no match for the horrible sound; it gets louder as the trees shrink in size and you are wincing from exposure by the time you reach the comprehensive vantage point at the crest of the hill.

You shield your eyes once more and survey the landscape. A snow smothered mountain range giving rise to the lifeblood of the region; spring to stream to river. A valley cut in half by that passage of water. Copses, glades, meadows. A gate.

That really piques your interest. A gate maybe meant further passage was attainable. You dial into your power once more and ask the question: Can I get home through there?

The warm flutter in your chest is all the answer you need. Even better, it appears that the route is straightforward - find the river and follow it almost to the mountain on its flank. You set off in search of it, using the ever-intensifying sound of the running water as your guide.

The river is as clear as freshly polished glass. Shards of ice bob in the gentle current, their slow passage a stark contrast to the erratic flight patterns of the small birds that forage for food in the now desiccated thistles and bulrushes.

Some of their wings feature patterns and colours that you know cannot be found in ones from Earth. Dream birds. Ones that he must have created.

How you wish that Morpheus could be here beside you in this moment. He should have been showing you all this stark beauty.

The thoughts are hurtful ones, pricking at your eyes, trying to tease out tears. You tilt your head back with an inhale, like you could somehow coax them back into your tear ducts with gravity.

You cannot afford to cry. Not when your sense of hearing is still so impacted by the hideous tone; your eyesight needs to be in tact for perceiving potential threats. You pick up your pace again, building to a run. The width of the river gets narrower as you close the distance to its source.

Your stamina holds well, as does your speed. It's impossible to quantify without the necessary tools or equations however the blur of the scenery implies you are fast.

The feat would be exhilarating if it wasn't so tragic - you are quite literally running for your life. Your waking life.

It's feels within reach, until the hair-raising noise stops.

You stop short, gulping in breaths, knowing all too well that things were likely to take a turn with the fortuitous distraction gone. There is no way of circumventing the eventuality that your soulmate was about to discover your fleeing. And you have no idea how far you are from reaching the gate.

You take in a slow and steady abdominal breath and close your eyes to re-centre yourself. Repeatedly counting to four as you employ box breathing. Your brain calms.

What you find upon opening your eyes sends you back the other way.

A figure. Humanoid - to a point, for there are wings sprouting from their back; the winter sun catches on the electric pink and aquamarine colouring as well as the intermittent snowflakes that have begun to fall around them. Distressingly, you are in the scope of their vision.

Or at least you would be if not for the good fortune that they are currently facing away from you. That changes quickly, doubtless caused by your once more panicky breathing.

With the lack of nearby foliage it's near certain that they will see you, bringing the risk of game over to probable odds, for you deduce that they are a dream that has been allowed back to their work.

Only one thing crosses your mind as the entity begins to turn.

Don't see me. Please don't see me.

And fortuitously they do not.

Instead they look right through you. There is no interpreting it as anything else. Their expression is perplexed, gleaming eyes focused right where your nose should be, searching for a sign that their auditory sense hadn't been inventing stimuli.

You take an exploratory sidestep, praying that the illusion holds and rejoicing when the dream flies away humming a beautiful song.

As soon as they're out of sight, you're swiftly back to running all the while repeating your mantra. Don't see me. It works for the handful of other beings you pass by. It's thrilling; you begin to truly believe that you'll get out. A dangerous spark of hope to have, however the reappearance of the warm rumble in your chest makes it hard to quash.

You must be close.

The terrain changes with the river becoming a stream that curves away. You are so preoccupied with chasing it that you fail to clock an oncoming blip in the green.

In fact, it appears to be an absence of light entirely. A space shrouded by a swirling fog; a double of the void-filled box that had featured in your recent nightmare. You don't have enough time to stop yourself before you are hurtling into it.

The effects of the space are instant. Clammy skin and goosebumps and trembles; not unmanageable but nonetheless unpleasant.

Even though you cannot see past the fog, your intuition tells you that the gate is just beyond the clearing. It's not as if you have a choice anymore other than to press on. You can barely tell up from down, let alone backwards. You force your feet to take a couple of steps, trying to push the feelings away but all this achieves is provocation.

An icy breath caresses the nape of your neck. You startle, muscles engaging to get you away. Yet you cannot move.

There's little time to process this paralysed state before claw tipped fingers are stroking over the shell of you ears, velvet coated whispers crowding, delving, permeating.

"You can't leave."

"You've only just got here."

"Stay with us."

Had you been able to shriek you would have done with fervour. Alas your mind has left your body. It thrashes, desperate to regain control - you are instead forced to watch from the third person. Your ashen face, pupils gaping holes seeing too much and not enough.

The concentric rings of gravestones surround you like ominous sentinels. A statue of an angel watches on in pity. Ironic - for there is no prospect for miracles here, that you are certain of. Right in the middle of a widow's web, the nightmare has you suspended in weightlessness.

You wonder if this is for Morpheus' benefit? Does he know that you have fled? Has he put out a plea to find you? Are you being punished, or worse trapped in another prison?

Ultimately, anything was better than being confined to that room. You have been so achingly alone. At least you were able to fucking feel something here.

A hand finds purchase on your own.

"It's okay. We've got you," the echoed whispers raspingly console.

The sensation of the nightmare's cool skin, the charges of preternatural energy snaking up your limb to your most vulnerable centre; it comforts you despite the melancholia, feels good to brush up alongside your soul. Perhaps a small piece of it decides to take root. Or you let it. Maybe if you had to stay in the Dreaming you could exist here. Your soul is at peace in this darkness. You can see yourself smiling now.

But then comes a downward plummet. You are knocked from the curious reverie by a great tremor that rips through the Dreaming. The sun is blotted out and an almighty storm is unleashed.

Though dazed and reeling, you are lucid enough to know the period of grace is over. You swear you can hear the notes of his desirous temper threaded among the curls of wind that cut against your cheeks.

The draw inside you to reach the gate transforms to acute and with no time to waste and adrenaline spiking, you pick your way through the neglected gravestones, nearly slipping on the mud that the deluge so effortlessly fabricated.

The instant you see the gates up close triggers a visceral reaction. The energy coming off the stone pulsates with such intensity that you feel you might puke. It is how you imagine a nuclear reactor might feel. Volatile and incomprehensible. Capable of wiping out all matter, tangible or not.

For the second time in a few minutes you feel kinship to the power on show. It is archaic. A parallel to your soul bond. You are one and the same.

A sharp caw punctuates the storm, startling your concentration, drawing your attention up. Right to the blade-sharp beak that the ominous sound came from. An imposingly large corvid glides atop the slip streams. So large that it could only be a raven, its feathers beautifully glossy as it fixes its beady gaze right on you.

Whether due to the nightmare or the bird's call, you are no longer invisible - the bird's course correction tells you as much. Your dread is plutonium; another jolt of adrenaline somehow overcomes the weight of it.

Senses sharpened, you can hear the sound of waves lapping, smell the scent of salt. Is there an ocean past the gate? You make the final few strides towards your escape, ready to slam your hand onto the stone when...

Morpheus appears at your side.

Your soul leaps. That traitorous fragment of you that threatens to override your logic - all achieved by one look at his perfect face. You would hate yourself for it if you had the cognition; between the gate's energy and the desire to be in his arms, you are losing your rationality.

"You left," Morpheus states. He blinks slowly taking a reading of the probably unanticipated situation, head tilting, a showcase of his intrigue. "How?"

"The room let me leave," you say with as much neutrality as possible, head turning back to the immense structure before you.

He comes into your peripheral vision with startling speed, his tone just as urgent. "What do you mean by that?"

To answer him would be to delay your escape even longer. You focus instead on the green growing on the walls. Mosses, lichens. The tightly twisting ivy that mirrors the hold he has on you. You are having trouble tuning into your power with his proximity.

"Y/N." He coaxes gently, searching your drawn features with unblinking, trepidatious eyes.

It scares you that you notice this. You cannot remember making the decision to look at him. Perhaps it is the sibling of the involuntary impulse that makes you answer him.

"I asked for help in leaving and the door dissolved."

His lips part in surprise. "You manipulated the fabric of the Dreaming." He sounds impressed.

You huff sardonically, muttering, "Another side effect of the soul bond, I guess." Then reaching towards the stone gate with a flattened palm.

"What do you think you are doing?" Morpheus' question is authoritative however you can detect a note of fearfulness in the mix. It gives you courage that your journey here was not for nothing.

"I'm going to do the same with this gate as I did with the doors. I'm going home."

"I cannot allow you to do that." Morpheus moves into a wary stance, as if you have just transformed into a scorpion and he is trying to avoid your sting. "It is dangerous to wield such power when inexperienced."

Your soul burns astringently as you dismiss him. "It's been serving me well so far."

The rain lessens a fraction, a little too late for you are both soaked through. Morpheus does not seem to notice - he is unfalteringly focused on you.

"Y/N, I implore you to listen to me. There is a significant risk you would find yourself in the space between realms. Or somewhere considerably worse."

A flare of rage manifests at the ease of which he can still be so vague with his threats.

"How do I know you're not just saying that!? You told me that it was unsafe to leave that room and yet I got here without any problems."

Not entirely truthful; you purposefully neglect to tell him about the absolute terror the graveyard initially caused, the information does not serve you at present.

You take a step away from him and internally root for the power to get you through the gate. Morpheus zeroes in on your chest, clearly feeling you engage with it.

The rain turns back to torrential and his eyes darken as you hear his commanding voice inside your head. "Stop this now."

"No, you fucking stop!" You explode. "I am done listening to your lies, and I am done with your fucked up fantasy. I don't care what fate intended or what is in my soul. I am leaving you and if you have any sense at all you will leave me the fuck alone!"

Your words are so full of vitriol that it is clear that no amount of pleas can be made to sway your decision. It pushes Morpheus to sheer, instinctual desperation as he finally tries to snag your hand with his, and with the residual anger inside it's all the encouragement you need to press your outstretched one to the gate.

The energy recoil is punishing. It takes everything within you to stand your ground. Morpheus is speaking - the precise words are lost to pressure change in your ears.

Let me go home. You assert to the gate.

The stone becomes translucent and then you are falling.

--------------------------------

Without Morpheus there to steady you, your passage is far less smooth. For a moment you fear that his talk of ending up in limbo was rooted in accuracy. Yet you make it unscathed. And you're right back where it all started. The same rain washed street outside the function hall, the same flyers up by the entrance begging the question: could you have been returned on the same day that you left?

You nudge the door to see if the venue is still open. It is, so you slip inside. You reason that being around other people is the safest thing for you should you have been followed the Dreaming's king. The warmth of the central heating is tempting too for you are still saturated from the storm.

The squeak of your boots on the wooden floor draws attention. You hear a chorus of assuaged exhales, see a blur of movement.

Danisha. She's in your personal space within seconds, a justifiable mixture of fury and relief sparking in her big brown eyes. "Oh my god, where were you? I was so worried."

Your other colleagues stand nearby at the front desk, and you overhear them trying to tell the staff that everything was okay. That you weren't missing after all. What trouble you've caused.

"I'm so sorry," you whisper, throat thick with guilt and tears. "Something urgent came up."

"Urgent enough to go missing for over an hour without telling anyone?"

Only an hour? It felt like a week had passed in the Dreaming. The adage that time passed differently in dreams carried some weight.

You twist the ring on your finger as you tell your half-truths. "It was an emergency. Everything happened so fast. I know how it must have looked."

"Damn right. I got the venue staff to check the CCTV outside but the memory was corrupted. I was so close to calling the police."

"What stopped you?"

She pauses, contemplating how to phrase her reply.

"I don't know. I had this weird feeling that you would come back if I stayed here..." Danisha smiles for the first time since you were reunited. "And you did, thank the universe."

You can't help but wonder if divine intervention stepped in for you both.

"I'm really sorry I worried you."

She nudges your shoulder playfully.

"Yeah, me too. I had to make that speech you promised me you'd give."

Your mouth drops open. "We won?"

"Hell yes we did," She says feistily. "And thank fuck you left your shout-out list on the table 'cause I'd have been absolutely screwed without it."

Your chest swells with pride. "I'm so proud of you, D."

Her nose crinkles endearingly.

"Don't pass judgement just yet. I'm fairly certain that Tomas recorded it, the little shit." She turns around and shoots your colleague a joking death glare. Tomas clutches his chest in mock pain and all three of you laugh.

"We're still going to The Bridge like we planned?"

Danisha hands your bag and phone over. "Yeah. You need a drink?

You laugh dryly. "You have no idea."

----------------------------------

Danisha refrains from asking more questions about your AWOL moment as you traverse the damp streets to your team's favourite bar - a fact that you are infinitely grateful for because it would be much more challenging to disguise your unease.

Naturally, you are relieved to be back in familiarity with your beloved friends but every movement out the corner of your eye or snippet of conversation in a deep voice is a jump scare.

How could it not be? Morpheus made his disposition clear; he wants full possession of you, which is why it is surprising that he has not followed you thus far. Not that it would serve him well; you would scream bloody murder if he came near you.

The feeling of shedding your sodden coat when inside the warm bar is luxurious, as is the first sip of the espresso martini you ordered - chosen for its sleep repelling caffeine content.

Friday night means the establishment is packed and the hours slip by in relative delight. Full of celebration and throwing caution to the wind.

The award is passed around with the realisation that you'll need to get a bigger shelf installed in the office. You crowd round Tomas' phone to watch the video of Danisha's speech, which is promptly deleted after she wrestles it out of his hand, claiming that: 'no one else ever needs to be subjected to her sweaty face'. The whole tussle had been immensely comical and you laughed so much that your stomach went into spasm.

With happy tears in your eyes, you get the attention of the middle-aged bartender and order yourself another drink. There's a group of students to the right of you, living it up with the exuberance of those who are still too young to know the meaning of debilitating hangovers.

One of them begins to fake whispers excitedly. "Don't look now but a 'sunglasses indoors' just walked in the door. And they're seriously hot."

The whole group look in unison and you are ashamed to admit that you do the same - not because you want to gauge their attractiveness for yourself but rather to check if they were famous. Who else would wear sunglasses inside at night?

The instant you spot him, you notice a disconcerting tightness settle in your chest.

You feel like you know him.

And from the beaming smile he is directing towards you, it seems like he feels the same way.

-----------------------------

Tag list: @herfantasyworldd @kpopgirlbtssvt @littleblackcatinwonderland @1950schick @lollipopsandlandmines @the-ruler-of-death @mimrntgx @dangerous-like-a-loaded-pistol

"Cause they watch us in sleep. And the language that we speak. And the secrets that we keep to ourselves in our dreams, in our dreams."

naughty ransom holiday tales - @jtargaryen18

warnings: kidnapping, non-con, dub-con

pairing: dark!ransom drysdale x reader

guilty pleasure series

hate to love ransom but I can't help it

what the king has - @sincerelythedarkside

warnings: dub-con, character death

pairing: soft!dark steve rogers x reader

royal au

love me a good jealous steve

plot twist shocked the shit outta me

smut was out of this fucking world

love bites - @cherienymphe - masterlist

warnings: character death, jealousy, non-con

pairing: dark!steve rogers x reader, peter parker x reader

modern vampire au (what's not to love there)

this actually made me cry like a bitch

ongoing series

sidenote: Seeing as Cherie will be on this list many times, I have to say it's difficult not to add every piece of work on this list because while some writers have a magnum opus, everything she writes is a work of art. Her range and the backstory she puts in her characters make each story feel like a movie I just can't get enough of. Will forever love her writing.

kryptonite - @cherienymphe

warnings: non-con, obsession

pairing: dark!bruce wayne x reader

the build-up and tension gave me actual chills

trailer park babydoll - @mypoisonedvine

warnings: dub-con, infidelity, age gap

pairing: wayne munson x reader

guilty pleasure fic

absolute filthy smut

wrath of the dragon - @straywords

warnings: non-con, chasing

pairing: dark!daemon targaryen x reader

yet another down bad man

overdue - @darkficsyouneveraskedfor

warnings: creepy curtis, non-con, obsessive behavior

pairing: dark!curtis everett x reader

there's little to nothing i love more than a good ole broody man with attachment issues

anxious - @syntheticavenger

warnings: stalking, kidnapping

pairing: dark!peter parker x reader

tasm peter

cutest in a way lol little fic

the dream that got away - @dotieeee

there's not nearly enough dark fics ft my fave peter so I love this one

warnings: dub-con, non-con, manipulation, controlling behavior, obsession

pairing: dark!morpheus x oc!mera

probably the first dark fic about morpheus

each chapter was a masterpiece

and i still haven't seen the show lol

thanks for the invite - @syntheticavenger

warnings: non-con, bitchy friend behavior, implied drugging (i think), oral (f receiving), slight bondage

pairing: dark!lloyd hansen x reader

a funny little unhinged lloyd fic

rsvp - @syntheticavenger

warnings: dub-con, hide and seek, exasperated bodyguard, exhibitionism (a bit)

sequel to the fic listed above

In the distance, the high castle sat like a toy house from which all the dolls had escaped, spreading their games and pageantry through the forest with bells and horns to warn away the deer and fox. Huntsmen released other deer, fox, and fowl from prearranged cages out of sight of the king and his swarm of courtiers, so the dolls could play pretend at feats of skill.

The bard kept to the back, holding a tight rein on her grey mare – who didn’t understand why she couldn’t stop and graze if the bard insisted on moving so slowly – in the company of the ladies Alder. Eilwyn, who’d visited the bard’s chamber two nights past, glimmered and glowed, illuminated like a piece of art in the dappled sunlight and the eyes of a few dozen would-be suitors. Officially, no one could pay court until the Endless had his pick. Unofficially, Eilwyn had received six declarations of love, five bad poems about her eyes, one good poem about her hair, and an uninspired puzzle box containing a gaudy necklace without a single gem of value.

Eilwyn loved it all, of course.

But as the younger woman amused herself snaring hearts for her collection, the bard conversed with the Dowager Alder, Eilwyn’s grandmother.

“The city lights are unbearable,” the elder Alder insisted. “My eyes are bad enough as it is, but when every street and tavern glows like the moon, I can hardly make out the planets with my telescope, let alone the fainter stars. With the travel time, I’ll lose whole weeks of work, and gods know if I’ll be alive to note my calculations this time next year.”

Manly shouts and howling dogs suggested something ahead had died, or was about to. The bard wondered how many of these fools in their fine furs would discover the material cost of bloodsport when they couldn’t scrub the stains from their velvets in the morning.

“You say that every year.”

The Elder Alder, on her aged palfrey, squinted at the green canopy shielding her beloved sky and tutted.

“And one year I’ll be right, like I always am in the end.”

The woman was an astronomer, a mathematical magician, and the idea of death hadn’t scared her since the bard first met her as a young maid. The wheel of the heavens moved before her, and it would move after, and that was well enough if she could just understand the damn thing before she shuffled off this mortal coil. She’d written books, and papers, and more books, and the bard wondered if Death would really hold off until the universe held no more mysteries. It wouldn’t be the first time.

“Of course, Lady Alder.”

Arthritis had long-since gnarled the lady’s hands, and they twisted over the saddle pommel and a hank of her horse’s main like knobby cypress knees, straining with the roll and sway of her palfrey’s gait.

“How far is the damned camp?”

Another lady – one of the fools hoping to wed her daughter to the Endless riding very far ahead near the king – seized the reins of her precious child’s horse and passed the odd trio. She did not look to the side. She did not look at anything. She lifted her nose far too high. And she nearly trotted over her own servants in passing.

The bard waved, and the daughter gawked with wide eyes as she was spirited away from poor influences and dangerous words. Really, any damage was already done, and fleeing the scene of battle only showed weakness. What kind of lesson would the girl really learn besides the fact that her mother enjoyed making a spectacle of her piety? Parents really had the strangest ideas about children.

“Grandmother!” Eilwyn exclaimed, clearly delighted.

The bard, equally delighted, couldn’t help herself. “Such language from so fair a lady. Shocking.”

The Dowager shifted in her saddle, face puckered in discomfort. “Hush, the both of you.”

Oh, if only she could. She laughed to imagine how much pain and trouble might’ve been saved. And how many adventures missed. They never would’ve been friends at all if the bard kept her own counsel.

“You expect a bard to hold her tongue?”

“The sun will freeze first.” The Dowager made a point of staring down her granddaughter, though, and her granddaughter made a point of smiling very prettily in reply. A lord several lengths ahead called for Lady Eilwyn’s attention, and she brokered an armistice by riding out of her grandmother’s line of sight entirely, leaving the two old companions to fight their own wars.

“My old bones are not made for riding.”

A jolt of pity seared the bard’s belly like the pain after eating a rotten fish. She’d rather purge it and be done, but the prickling discomfort would only grow with age. There was no course but to swallow it down and imagine it hurt much less than it would in time.

“Why didn’t you take the coach then? It could’ve brought you in comfort.”

Swollen knuckles flexing, the lady scoffed. “With the rest of the invalids? Don’t insult me.”

“But it’s so much fun, old friend.”

“Old,” Lady Alder muttered. “Yes. I am that.”

The bard shifted in her own saddle, wondering if she could stomach any of the inevitable banquet awaiting them.

“That wasn’t the word I’d hoped you’d echo.”

An eye sharper than any hawk’s pinned her from the side, and she felt like a child caught sulking. “If you need reassurance as to that, then you are not half so clever as you make yourself out to be.”

She seized on the opportunity for levity and smiled with all her teeth. “You’ve known me for a fool many years, have you not?”

“Aye, but a clever one.” The lady considered. “Most days.”

“Such praise you give me.”

“You fished for it so often the lake is empty.”

“Unfair but not untrue.”

The lady hummed her affirmation, welcoming in a moment of calm as they road in the wake of the hunt’s chaos.

Ahead, those most eager to prove themselves brought down smaller prey on their way to the day’s camp. Once all had a chance to refresh themselves with wine as their horses grazed, most would sally out again in the name of dead beasts. Dusk would bring them back, and they’d spend the night drinking, feasting, and debauching one another just outside the safe ring of torchlight, pretending to be very daring and wild for fucking someone in a bush.  A bit more hunting in the morning for those who could still sit straight in the saddle, and then all would return bloody and victorious to the castle.

The bard struggled to understand those who found the prospect of a royal hunt… thrilling. None worried to go home hungry, and the creatures they met in the wood came hobbled, with teeth filed and tusks blunted.

Rushing down a winding stair risked greater peril.

Bored by the day’s excitement, she let her thoughts spin out in wider and wider passes, circling the crux of the drama.

What did the King of Dreams dream of?

Revenge, she suspected. Vengeance on the king that may boil over on the land he ruled, and she must guide her favorites out of the flood’s path. Those practical answers satisfied the part of her that always craved a direction, a purpose, the next challenge to conquer, but the Dream King’s retribution sat like a wax seal over a longer letter. She would very much like to read that letter, even if it was dangerous, and unwise, and entirely reckless.

The Prince of Stories must have depths unfathomable, millennia upon eon of secrets and experiences carved into his bones. She wanted to dismiss her curiosity as nothing but interest in a vision of her future. Would she be like him in another thousand years? No. She’d still be human, and he was Endless. All the lifetimes of the Earth couldn’t teach her to understand one such as him.

But that didn’t mean she had no desire to try.

From farther up the line, a runner came jogging, peering up at the faces of the mounted company. He looked from one to another, seeking the right address to receive his message. The bard paused, recognizing the Everard house colors on servant’s tabard. Her horse stamped, whickering around the bit as her rider leaned out of the saddle to catch the young man’s eye. He saw her and darted to her side quick as an arrow.

“Is all well?” the bard asked.

“My lady Alis Everard and my lord Tomas Everard request you ride with them.”

The bard looked to Lady Alder. She hardly needed her friend’s permission, and none of the Alders were the sort to cherish grudges over perceived slights. But the bard didn’t want to leave her to ride alone, either. She needed good conversation and someone who cared enough to notice if she swayed on her horse.

“Oh, go tend to your nervous foal.” Lady Alder waved her off. “My own proud filly will see you pass and return to keep me amused. We favor different arts, but she has a sharp enough eye to see trouble riding by.”

“Thank you.” The bard pulled out of the column of riders, careful to avoid the servant at her side. “I’ll see you at the camp.”

Whatever Lady Alder replied was lost to the wind. Finally given her head, the bard’s mare leapt into a canter, her hooves thumping a second heartbeat that rattled up and through her rider. Old loam and the sharp green scent of freshly broken twigs gathered around her like a cloak as she moved just left of the path, removed from the rock and dust of the road.

The bard knew what colors to look for, and she let all definition blur as she moved past lords, ladies, knights, and their scores of attendants. They all looked so strange and out of place in the tunnel of green woods, dressed to stand out in a part of the world where blending in more often preserved life.

Near the front of the cavalcade, she found the Everards. Alis stared with wide eyes as the bard pulled even with her, mare prancing and snorting in frustration as her run came to an end. Her dramatic entrance pulled other eyes, and the king – only a few riders ahead – glanced back with frustrated disgust. Perhaps she should apologize that she wasn’t a stag. For all of the ruckus she’d heard from afar, she saw precious few carcasses dangling from the hunters’ belts.

“Thank you for coming in such haste,” Lord Everard said. Stifled amusement plucked at his lips, trying to lift them into a broad, laughing gale. It would be bad manners to laugh too loudly too near the king over a jest to which he wasn’t party, but Everard clearly struggled.

She answered with the grin he’d tried to school away. “Best way to travel. Now, what is the matter?”

Lord Everard gestured to his daughter, and she in turn tried to sink into the mud of the forest track. She hunched low, like she could melt into her boots. Her complexion had gone pale, despite the flush of embarrassment creeping up her neck, and her gloves creaked as her dainty hands squeezed into fists. The bard let the merriment fade, looking and listening beyond the girl’s silence.

Alis’s doe eyes flicked towards the shadow who rode beside her king, and the bard understood.

Dream of the Endless wore his customary black, with the blood-red ruby shining on his breast like a heart he’d ripped from his prey. His nightmare mount had teeth where it ought to have eyes, and it laughed with a man’s voice. He carried a raven on his shoulder rather than a hawk on his glove, and anyone who hadn’t met his sister may mistake him for an aspect of Death. Or something worse, perhaps.

Lord of Nightmares indeed.

“He frightens me,” Alis whispered, leaning close. “I’ve had nothing but bad dreams since I came to the castle.”

As she should. A glance at her father confirmed he thought the same. Just because he’d been forced to bring his child to this storm didn’t mean he didn’t fear the lightning. He had too much sense for this farce and too big a heart to let the girl suffer. If his wife were not busy running the estate, she’d be here to shelter and comfort their little girl, but in her absence, he must ask the bard to fill the role, and she gladly pulled Alis’s attention from bad dreams to simpler truths.

“And you’ve never had a nightmare before?” She didn’t chide. She reminded. Even in the security of her own bed in her own home, the girl had touched the darker shores of the Dreaming. Its king would not reach out to swallow her now, even though he prowled so near in the Waking. “Alis, believe me, you are safe.”

Alis pulled her spine straight, taking a deep, intentional breath that shuddered on the way in and trembled on the way out.

“Do you promise?”

“I promise that if I’m wrong, I’ll find a convenient sword to fall on, and you can say you told me so. Does that make you feel better?”

“A little.” Realizing what she’d said, Alis blanched and rushed to add, “But only because I know you’d come back!”

This time her father did laugh, and the bard reached to reassure her with an honest to gods giggle, when chaos erupted at the front. The king and his companions came to a dead stop, and without warning or order, those who rode behind struggled to halt in time. Rearing horses and shouts of alarm rolled down the line like a breaker, and in the wave of confusion that followed, the bard once again left the road to circle forward.

They’d reached the camp.

A glory of golden stitching over swaths of emerald, the vast tents might cover an entire town, and smoke rising with the smells of rosemary and stewed venison hinted at the delights within.

The display paled behind the entity waiting at the edge of the woods, however.

Golden eyes like licks of flame from the sun’s heart smiled over ruby lips. Welcoming and menacing and all-too pleased with themselves.

Power perfumed the air, like honeysuckle and ambergris, clashing with the winter-cold snap of Dream’s clear displeasure. The King of Dreams had lost the veneer of humanity, and he set himself against the intruder like the deepest hour of the night resisting the dawn.

Few creatures could stand up to the king’s guest. Even fewer commanded the presence of function beyond personification. The bard did not know who the stranger was, but she knew what they were.

Another fucking Endless.

Every inch screamed of passion, romance, obsession. Golden hair and loose-fit silks that flowed like water into a garment that was neither tunic nor gown inspired sensual curiosities. They rode a unicorn, a bay mount with cloven hooves, a lion’s tail, and a goat’s beard. The russet horn glinted with flecks of gold, like treasure winking through a smear of blood.

The King of Dreams sneered, lip curling as he shared a frigid greeting.

“Sibling.”

You were no stranger to fights with the Dream king, being his wife for many centuries you often disagreed on things, mostly those were about the Dreaming. This one however was different, he had been extra on edge as of late because of a rouge nightmare that had been feeding off humans' fear in the waking world.

He had kept to himself the past few days, and had only spoken to Lucienne because he often found himself in the library trying to find a solution to his problem, but even that was curt.

You couldn't take it anymore, you felt more neglected than ever. Morpheus wasn't a perfect lover, he often found himself caught up in making dreams and nightmares but he always made you feel loved, in his own way. It's no secret that he wasn't much for outward affection, but it was subtle things he did that made you fall for him, reading to you in moments of solitude, light touches, soft smiles, and chaste kisses.

But this wasn't that, it was a whole new level, he had completely shut everyone out, including you. So you marched through the ivory hallways of the palace to the library and entered to find Lucienne organizing a bookshelf.

She turned and gave you a weary look "My lady, I believe the lord is not in a good mood at the moment-" you raised a hand to cut her off, lifting your chin authoritatively, you didn't like being this way with Lucienne, but you were determined to get the satisfaction you came for.

She fell silent and nodded her head, gesturing deeper into the library before turning and going back to her work and leaving you to venture through the library to find your husband.

He sat at a table flipping through a book and taking down mental notes. He didn't even look up at you as you stood across the table and placed your hands on it, leaning onto them. Jessamy had taken immediate notice of you and hopped across the table to rub her beak into your arm.

Your nostrils flared as he continued to flip through his book, you genuinely couldn't tell if he was doing it on purpose or was so caught up in his work that he had yet to notice your presence, the voice in the back of your head doubted the latter, especially because of Jessamy's actions, but you cleared your throat anyway.

He didn't look up but stopped flipping through the pages "I'm busy." he said simply, his tone was already annoyed but you held your ground.

"You've been busy for almost a week Morpheus-"

"Because I have been doing my duties to the dreaming!" His patience was easily gone as he rose from his chair and slammed his hands on the table startling both you and his raven. He had a fixed look on his face, a look you had seen but a few times before. "Do you not understand that I have a job to do? Or that this rouge nightmare is making that job monumentally harder?" He was cold, and your body went ridged in fear.

Your brow pinched and your lip quivered as pressure built in the back of your throat. You didn't know what you expected to come of this, maybe your naivety gave you hope that you could drag your husband away from his endless duties. You swallowed hard and lifted your chin as bitter tears spilled onto your cheeks.

"And what of your duties to me? You are my husband yes? Then why have I not seen an inkling of you for days?" You asked rhetorically and watched his jaw clench as he remained firm in his statement.

"As I thought," You said and turned on your heel, whisking yourself out of the library, ignoring Lucienne's pitiful look as you exited.

You found yourself spending the following days with residents of the dreaming rather than staying in the palace and waiting for your husband to finally cool off. You weren't childish enough to think he would come and apologize, he would likely brush it under the rug and expect you to drop it as you always had.

You couldn't though, as days passed a sinking feeling grew in your gut. You remained firm in your choice to reside outside of the palace, for now. He would send Jessamy after you when he finally decided enough was enough.

•••

Lucienne stood in the throne room with Morpheus as made sure he had all his tools. Her brow was creased in concern as they stood in silence, she cleared her throat and rocked forward on her heels.

"If I may lord, have you spoken to her ladyship?" She asked hesitantly and Morpheus looked at her over his shoulder.

"No, but I intend to once I return... once I can place my full attention to my wife" he mumbled as he looked past Lucienne to the throne room doors, the image of your flushed face that was streaked with tears had not left his mind since, and regret plagued him.

She inhaled a deep breath and pressed further "My lord, you are coming back aren't you?"

Confusion crossed the Endless's face, "Why would I not return, Lucienne?" He asked as he picked up his helm and slid it over his head. 

She shrugged and pursed her lips "I don't know, a presentiment." She paused as he pulled his pouch out of his pocket "As powerful as you are here in your realm, Dreams rarely survive in the waking world." She fidgeted with her hands as sand swirled on the ground and around the king of the dreaming. "Nightmares, on the other hand, seem to thrive there." She watched the typhoon of sand flurry around the throne room as Morpheus's voice rang out once more.

"I shall return Lucienne" and then he was gone, and she was left alone in the throne room.

•••

You felt the heavy weight on your shoulders and your brain fogged with fatigue. You placed a hand on your head and let out a slight gasp as you hunched over the cup of tea that Abel was so nice to give you. You briefly recognized the feeling of the whole responsibility of the Dreaming being placed on your shoulders, signaling you that your husband had departed from his realm.

"My lady are you alright?" You felt Abel place a worried hand on your shoulder and you looked up at him with a gracious smile.

"Yes, I'm wonderful Abel, thank you" You assured him and continued your friendly brunch, Gregory and Cain occasionally popping in to say hi. 

•••

You often found yourself visiting the house of mystery as the years passed and more residents of the dreaming abandoned their kingdom.

You have received the brunt of Morpheus's disappearance, the first decade was the hardest. You grieved the disappearance of your husband every moment, it was heartbreaking to watch all of his creations lose faith in their king and blame you for it.

You slept most of the time as it took everything you had to try and upkeep the state of the Dreaming, but you were not an Endless, and this was not your realm. You were forced to watch the state of the Dreaming decay. Each day that passed constantly drained you of more energy both emotionally and physically.

Jessamy was the only reason you did not lose faith in your lover, and when she did not return you could not even find it in yourself to leave your room for a week. Lucienne had spent most of her time at your bedside trying to make sure you were okay, as much as you could be.

Every day after that was the same, you never left the palace anymore. You would simply drift around the crumbling hallways like a ghost for what seemed like an eternity, have some tea with Lucienne, then returning to your chambers to sleep for the remainder of what could be considered a day.

Eventually, the amount of time you rested, greatly outweighed the time you weren't lying in bed. You avoided reflective surfaces as they would kill you. The last time you looked at yourself, bags were sunk deep beneath your eyes, and your aura just radiated exhaustion. 

You opened your eyes, unsurprised with where you found yourself, in an old study, the rickety chair you sat in had been pulled over to sit just inside of the spire in front of the balcony so you could view the entirety of the Dreaming. You could see the huge ivory gates that would lead to the entrance of the dreaming and your heart panged in your chest.

They were just about the only thing that wasn't in shambles anymore, you sighed and sipped at the tea Lucienne had left for you, it was strange as she usually woke you and stayed with you for a while. This time she just disappeared. There was something different about today, your shoulders didn't feel as stiff and the fatigue behind your eyes didn't feel as immense.

•••

Morpheus and Lucienne stood at the entrance of the dreaming and she fidgeted with her thumbs as he opened the large gates. "Forgive me, sir, but... the realm, the palace... they are not as you left them" she spoke guiltily, as if she could've helped what became of the Dreaming after Morpheus left.

Morpheus felt his heart drop in his chest as he looked upon the basic rubble that had become of his beloved realm "What happened here? Who did this?" He turned to his librarian who seemed to shrink beneath his gaze.

Lucienne nibbled her lip as she tried to explain it to the best of her abilities "My Lord, you are The Dreaming, The Dreaming is you. With you gone as long as you were, the realm began to... decay and crumble." She said and let her gaze travel to the crumbling palace.

"And the residents? The palace staff?" Morpheus's breath caught in his throat as he imagined you leaving the dreaming many decades ago, especially with how he left you.

Lucienne folded her hands behind her back "I'm afraid most have gone." She said sorrowfully.

"Gone?" Morpheus gave her an incredulous look, unbelieving of the words she spoke.

"Some went looking for you.” She reasoned

“And the others?” He turned and looked at her through narrowed eyes

“They thought, perhaps, you'd grown weary of your duties and-" She tried to explain but he cut her off.

"What? Abandoned them? Had they so little faith in me? Do my own subjects not know me?" He asked as if she had all the answers.

"If I may, sir. It wouldn't be the first time one of The Endless had just-" She was going to bring up the prodigal brother of the endless but Morpheus had better things on his mind.

"Enough. I will not have Dreams and Nightmares preying on the waking world. I will bring them all back. I made this realm once, Lucienne. I will make it again." He said matter a factly and looked over his shoulder to his trusted advisor. 

She gave him a smile and started to walk with him through the gates of the dreaming.

Lucienne felt a looming question hang in the air as they walked toward the palace. What of the beloved queen of the Dreaming? She said nothing but motioned for the dream king to follow her.

•••

They stood in front of a double door, Lucienne motioned inside and Morpheus understood what she meant, he lifted a hand to rap on the door but hesitated as he heard Lucienne's quiet footsteps retreat.

So you had stayed in the Dreaming, but what had become of you? You were the queen of his realm and shared in carrying the weight of keeping the realm, surely over a century of shouldering both your responsibilities had taken a toll. One question made him sick with worry though, were you still angry with him? Did you resent him for the horrible terms he had left you on over a century ago? 

He realized he was standing there for much longer than intended and finally rapped on the mahogany door, "Come in Lucienne..." he softly nudged the door open when he heard your small voice inside the crumbling room. His breath caught in his throat as he saw your slumped form facing away from him, your hair and clothes in disarray.

He walked a few steps into the room before speaking "My dear..." He said wearily and watched your form whip around with energy that had long such left you. He swore his heart cracked as he gazed upon your face, deep eye bags and face drained of all life until you laid eyes on him.

Tears had started pouring down your face as you timidly crossed the room to stand across from your lover, all thoughts leaving your head except for the one screaming at you to collapse into his arms and stay there for the rest of time. When you came within arms reach you stood timidly infront of him, and his frowned deepened. He lifted his hand and let his fingers grace over your cheeks to swipe away some of your tears.

His expression hardened as you choked out a sob, unbelieving that he was real after all this time.  "Y-your here, I-its been so long..." You sniffled as he enveloped you in his arms and you both sank to your knees, collapsing into each other.

He mumbled a string of apologies into your hair and inhaled your sweet scent, one he had missed for a century. Tears slipped down his pale cheeks as you shook your head, your face pressed into his chest as your arms were wrapped tightly around his torso.

"I'm so sorry my darling, I've spent a century regretting the terms we parted on and thinking about how you were left here to tend to the dreaming alone" He pulled you away from him to examine your ghostly state but you shook your head and tried to wipe away at some of his steady tears as he did for you.

"No Morpheus please, none of that matters. I don't care, because I have you here with me now," You assured him as he pulled you impossibly close to him, relishing your presence.

But the image of what he had done to you, the toll his absence, his realm, had taken on you and he would never forgive himself.

He had so many regrets but none of them mattered now because he finally had his beautiful wife in his arms again and he swore right then and there as you cried into each other's arms that he would do better, and he would never take you for granted again.

You made a similar promise to yourself as well, you couldn't begin to imagine what he had been through over the past century, one that was littered with regrets for the both of you.

 You would speak of it eventually, but for now, you would sit here together for as long as you both needed, the Dreaming could wait another day or so, you were Morpheus's first priority, and nothing would come before you again.

•••

⋅✦⋅ Dream isn't a being known to be friendly or open by nature, appearing cold, abrasive, and oftentimes self-obsessed. To most people and even his own subjects, he's a distant and somewhat intimidating guy, and they are right in a way. Even with his past relationships and the passion he had felt for each of them, it's so very rare for him to get attached to someone or simply show any kindness to anyone in general. Especially if we're talking about Dream before his one-hundred-year capture.

⋅✦⋅ After what became of his only son, Orpheus (and Calliope leaving their marriage because of this), he became colder and more reserved than he previously was. Of course, the pain he felt when each of his relationships had ended had hurt him, but practically losing a child (given his son was now just a head and disowned Dream as his father long ago), it's a pain that words can not even express. And because of this, Morpheus couldn't imagine seeing himself getting attached to someone ever again, let alone someone that, dare say, could bring about something he thought lost long ago…

⋅✦⋅ However, all of that drastically changes when he meets you. An ordinary human girl, of all beings.

⋅✦⋅ Your meeting with the Dream Lord could either go one of two ways. The first was that your father was working as a caretaker for Alex Burgess, and he didn't want to leave you alone with a sitter, so he decided to bring you with him to Fawney Rig in Wych Cross. There, you would hear rumors that Alex Burgess's Father captured the devil, and it resides in the basement. Sometimes you'd catch the guards carelessly talking about the supposed 'Dracula' they're being paid to watch over, intriguing you immensely. Not long after being in the mansion, you made a plan to sneak into the basement, where you were met with a pale naked man in a glass dome. His eyes were the first thing you noticed, they shined and burned like distant stars, slowly dissolving into a pale icy blue color the longer you stared at them.

⋅✦⋅ Or, after Morpheus had successfully retrieved all of his tools, he found himself sitting at Waterlow Park in North London, pondering on what his purpose was outside his function. The Lord of Dreams felt empty whilst he fed the pigeons and ducks with a loaf of fresh bread he brought with him. You were just a simple passerby, wanting to take a break from school work and the 'drama' that always occurs in your household between your parents, and that's when you randomly came across a man dressed in all-black moping. You raised a brow at the sight, curious about his sullen expression, but then saw him feeding the birds with the bread he had, which made you point out that he wasn't supposed to feed them bread, since it's bad for them. With that, you sat on the bench and began to talk to him, which earned you a weird look from him.

⋅✦⋅ You, for some reason, had immediately grabbed the Dream Lord's attention unlike any other being had before. There wasn't anything particularly special about you, just an average teenage girl. Because of this fact, it left Morpheus entirely confused, yet somewhat intrigued. Trapped inside his glass confinement, he watched with a careful gaze as you slowly approached him, looking around the place as you started to question him. Albeit you were a bit hesitant, more so confused if anything. At first, he had tried ignoring you and your questions just as he did with Roderick and his son. However, he couldn't ignore the genuine concern when you looked at him, someone who was but a stranger to you. It was the first time in his captivity that someone showed him any kind of concern for his well-being, someone who showed him kindness, even if it was small. In the park, Morpheus was less on guard now that he was free and more powerful than he was before, but instead of fully ignoring you and the questions you would ask him, he would answer vaguely, which ended up frustrating you, and to his surprise, he found your reactions quite amusing (he also found your little pouts adorable, not that he'll ever admit it, out loud anyway-).

⋅✦⋅ After your first visit to him, he found himself surprised by the gentle warm feeling slowly swelling in his chest. With imprisoned Morpheus, he was wary of you and your intentions, knowing that humans were all selfish creatures, and eventually you would ask him for something, just like his captors. But the more time you spent with him in the basement, talking to him even though he never answered, slowly softened his wariness of you. The more he thought about it, the more he understood that you being there with him was a great risk you were taking, not only for you but your father. You always set a timer on your wristwatch, and immediately leave once it went off, not before sending your goodbyes to him. With pigeon feeding Morpheus, he was curious about your random interaction with him and became more so at the thought of speaking to you again (even if you were the one doing most of the talking).

⋅✦⋅ Not before long, with each visit from you, the warmth within his chest seemed to grow bigger until he became extremely fond of you. At first, he tried to deny his care for you, then resenting you for unearthing a piece of him he had previously believed didn't exist as an Endless being (not that lasted very long. With one look at your face, that anger immediately demolishes into nothing but a distant memory). In truth, even with his previous relationships, he wasn't used to loving anything, and when he (not so) surprisingly found himself doing so, he firmly believed that he would eventually lose them in the end. Everyone that he had loved, that was supposed to love him back, had either one way or another abandoned or forsaken him, and it left him with a deep ache in his heart. However, with each visit from you, he realized this feeling, this fondness for you was the best for him. That you were the best of him, that caring for you was what made him painfully, yet so wonderfully human. Along with this, you had brought him hope, something he thought he had lost long ago. After everything he has been through, with his relationships and the tragedy that befell his son eons ago (and also his imprisonment), he never thought himself to be able to undoubtedly care for someone again, let alone a human child of all beings. You had quickly made your way into his Endless heart, without even knowing it.

⋅✦⋅ You became a constant figure in the Dream Lord's life, and he couldn't stop himself from seeing you. Not that he could in his imprisonment (nor did he ever want to). You were a very curious child, always showing how much you cared for him and his well-being, eyes shining brightly whenever you would talk to him as if his presence brought you happiness. And during this whole thing, Morpheus found himself unconsciously smiling more around you, staring at you with a soft look in his starry/icy blue gaze.

⋅✦⋅ With imprisoned Morpheus, he remained silent but would listen intently to you ramble about whatever topic you had in your mind, making subtle movements and being sure you knew he was listening to you. One particular memory was engraved in his mind where his stoic demeanor shifted and you had seen a smile gracing his lips. At first, you appeared slightly shocked, but then, your entire face lit up at the sight of his smile, however small it was. He remembered so vividly how excited you had gotten, how proud you were to achieve making him smile, and promising that you'll make him smile again, but even bigger. Morpheus wanted to see that expression on you again, the pure joy you had, and it was all because of him simply letting out a smile. When he was left alone in the basement once more, he was quite taken aback at the thought that he was the one to make you beam so brightly.

⋅✦⋅ With free Morpheus, he'd quietly listen to you talk, and would sometimes ask questions, and he couldn't help but feel pride swelling in his chest whenever your eyes would brighten up at his very simple questions. You'd become more lively, your smile widening with joy, and he noticed this particularly happened whenever the conversation was about your hobbies or the thing you found yourself enjoying recently. While you excitedly spoke, Morpheus quietly observed your expression, wondering when was the last time he had made someone this happy, had someone smile up at him with the brightest of smiles, eyes nearly glimmering with stars that were almost similar to his.

⋅✦⋅ As much as he cared for you, he was still careful to not get too attached to you. However, (surprise, surprise) that didn't end up happening. When Morpheus began to regard you as his child, seeing you as his daughter, he knew he had to quickly sever his connection with you, however great the ache in his chest hurt to just consider the idea. For he knew getting close to any human was a dangerous thing, not only for himself and his realm but for you. If he didn't, he'd have to watch you grow into the fine young woman he knew you would become, slowly growing older and older until his sister Death finally arrived and took you away to the Sunless lands. Or, the universe would see his affection for you as some sort of crime and end up punishing you, an innocent child, for his selfishness of not wanting to be alone once more. He didn't think he could live with the pain of losing another child again, having to be forced to watch you wither and die just like every other human that has ever existed before you.

⋅✦⋅ With free Morpheus, he could sever your relationship instantly, yet found himself hesitating when he was in your presence, waiting for the 'right time' to do it. Imprisoned Morpheus however didn't have that luxury. Instead, he forced himself to build up walls around his heart, for he knew the moment he was finally free, he had to immediately leave you and wanted to lessen that pain. He recognized that if he didn't do this, the pain would be too much for him to bear.

⋅✦⋅ However, all of that changed, depending on which path fate decided for you and the Dream Lord to have.

⋅✦⋅ With imprisoned Morpheus, he instantly knew there was something wrong when you entered the basement with the lack of your usual bright greeting. Not even a smile was being shown his way. You quietly took a seat in front of him like you usually did, and that's when he noticed an old book in your hands. When he glanced at you in question, he found that you were avoiding his gaze, which confused him but more so worried him, especially when you finally did meet his gaze, you looked completely lost, guilty even.

⋅✦⋅ You apologized that you didn't realize it sooner, apologized for the wrongdoings that Roderick and his son did to him, and most importantly, that you were sorry for being so blind. Morpheus sat there, completely stunned by your little speech, but more so when your tearful gaze turned into determination as you declared that you were going to get him out of there. Morpheus felt his starry eyes water, his hope of being free, of going back home to his kingdom that had once seemed so far from his reach was now so very close, and that was all because of you. And you, a child that possessed such a rare and beautiful heart didn't ask anything in return, just for him to set things right for everyone. He slowly placed his hand on the glass, watching with a tender look as you placed your smaller one on the glass, smiling up at him.

⋅✦⋅ With free Morpheus, you two were walking through the park, the Dream Lord silently cherishing his last visit with you. You then suddenly pushed him aside, causing him to stumble for a very brief second. He heard you let out a noise of pain and saw you on the ground, along with a male and his bicycle on the ground beside you. The sight of you hurt, blood seeping from your now scrap and dirty hands caused something dangerous to take hold of him. That feeling grew, even more, when he saw the man that had slammed into you with his bike reach out to help you up. If looks could kill, the mortal that dared hurt you would have been dead right where he stood. And if his glare wasn't bad enough, his voice was.

⋅✦⋅ It was so cold, so full of barely contained wrath as he commanded the man to not touch you. Not only did this leave the cyclist and the people around you frozen in place, but it also left you feeling afraid of Morpheus, being unable to recognize the man in front of you. Without another word, he quickly yet gently picked you up (bridal style) and carried you out of there. You were surprised by his actions but mostly embarrassed as you tried hiding your face in his chest, from the eyes of the people there. You asked him about it, but he didn't say anything, bringing you to a quiet area where he carefully tended to your wounds.

⋅✦⋅ Morpheus knew then and there that he couldn't leave you, your love for him was far too precious to abandon. He made a promise to himself that very day that he was going to love you for all eternity, that he would do better, for you deserved that and much, much more.

⋅✦⋅ Whenever you had to leave him, to avoid getting caught by the guards or to head back home and start on your homework (or how you would put it, to avoid your parents arguing about your whereabouts), it left him feeling immensely saddened by it. However, you would always playfully tease him, asking if he was sad, which would either have him send you a pointed look or quietly scoff, denying such a claim of being sad, even though you both knew it to be untrue. You'd reassured him that you would always come back, and you did

⋅✦⋅ Until one day after growing completely attached to you, you suddenly stopped appearing.

⋅✦⋅ At first, he thought you were late since it wasn't the first time it had happened, which you'd apologize for it. But as time continued to pass, with no sign of you coming, Morpheus began to grow worried.

⋅✦⋅ Even if you were late, you never missed a meeting with him. What could have possibly happened to cause you to miss it? But Morpheus, with the hope you gave to him, allowed himself to calm down, believing that you'll show up the next day. He knew you wouldn't just stop out of nowhere, especially if we're talking about imprisoned Morpheus. Yet that didn't stop the ache from building deep within his chest at the thought of something bad that could be happening to you.

⋅✦⋅ One day turned into two, then three, then four, and by the time he knew it, it had been a week since he last saw you. His concern grew to the point where he was nearly distracted from his duties, mind clouded by endless thoughts of you.

⋅✦⋅ With imprisoned Morpheus, he'd silently sit in his glass confinement, his thoughts always circling back to you, to your silly little rambles, your quiet and adorable laughs, your precious smiles. He was so used to being alone in the basement (alone in general, let's be honest here), sitting in the silence he had forced upon himself. However, the longer you were away, it started to become torture for him. And this can be said for free Morpheus. He'd quietly sit on the same bench you two always sat on, mindlessly watching the people there as his thoughts would go to you. Sometimes his raven Matthew popped in because Lucienne, his librarian, sent the male bird to check up on him.

⋅✦⋅ Perhaps you had simply grown bored of him, finally finding someone willing to spend time with you and listen to your conversations. Someone better, someone who wasn't him. It wouldn't be the first time. If we're talking about imprisoned Morpheus, he would feel even worse as those thoughts plagued his mind. Why would someone, let alone a human child, want to spend your time with him, someone who's trapped in a glass prison and doesn't say anything in response to you and your questions? Or maybe you have possibly changed your mind about freeing him. You didn't owe him anything, you only stumbled upon him through your own merits. That last thought alone sent him down a deep, almost dark spiral.

⋅✦⋅ Morpheus had tried finding you through your dreams (even if his powers in the basement were very weakened), yet he couldn't find you. By this point, the Dream Lord was beginning to become quite desperate to see you again, if only it was for a second. He never felt like this before in his entire existence, as if his Endless being needed you by his side for him to continue onward.

⋅✦⋅ When you were, one way or another, back in his life once more (and imprisoned Morpheus no longer in his glass confinement), there was a heavy weight lifted off his chest, as if he was allowed to finally breathe again. Upon seeing your face, nothing can ever compare to the enormous joy he felt, and at that very moment, Morpheus would make certain that you would never leave his sight again. Your unexpected absence from him for the first time since knowing each other made him understand that he simply couldn't live without you, his precious child. He couldn't bear the pain of you being far from him, where he couldn't find you or make sure that you were safe. You are far too important to the Endless.

⋅✦⋅ After that whole incident, the Dream Lord began to send his raven Matthew to watch over your waking life, sometimes even watching you through his companion's eyes (much to the raven's annoyance). When you went to sleep, Dream would personally watch over your dreams, making sure no nightmare dared to enter the beautiful dreams he carefully crafted especially for you.

⋅✦⋅ Too many times the Dream Lord found himself being affected by the thoughts of you one day leaving him as everyone he had ever loved did, disowning him as his own son had done eons ago. It all had hurt him at that time (though, he'd never admit it), but just the thought of losing you, of you hating and abandoning him, causes him a great deal of pain at just the mere thought. He couldn't possibly imagine going through that again, knowing that there would be nothing left of him…

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Would anyone be down for a more detailed version of the two different meeting scenarios? Separately, of course. I think it's a pretty neat idea, considering I would have more freedom to further expand the relationship between Dream and the Reader in the different meetings, whichever fate has decided for them to have.

But what do you guys think? I would absolutely love to know!