Ugh, my obsession with Sandman is back π sad that it's the last season! So can I request yandere Morpheus with π and π€? I think it suits him a lot!!
βπβ - ββYou can't leave me. You will not leave me.ββ
βπ€β - ββI don't want to force you to be mine, but I will if I have to.ββ
βtw: kidnapping, yandere behavior and threats.
Maybe it was all his fault.
He knew, he knew from the beginning, that he shouldn't let himself get carried away again, that he shouldn't make the same mistake he had before: falling in love with a mortal. A human. So ephemeral, so fragile, so... You.
Maybe Desire was right after all. Maybe his sibiling knew something that he, proud and stubborn, refused to accept: that love and eternity rarely coexist without pain.
But it was no use. As much as he was the master of many things, as much as he could shape dreams and nightmares with a simple thought, he couldn't contain what blossomed inside him when he looked at you.
It was inevitable. Uncontrollable. A feeling that burned like an ancient fire, the kind that consumes not only the skin but also the soul. It was overwhelming. It was magnificent. It was... Beautiful.
And you...
You didn't want it.
You didn't see what he saw. You didn't feel what he felt. You didn't desire what he had to offer, not his power, not the silent realms at the edge of the Dreaming, not eternity with him. Not even his love.
You rejected him. You refused everything.
But Morpheus had never handled rejection well.
He was too old, too proud, and, above all, too lonely. He had had affairs before β brief, intense loves, and they had all, invariably, ended in ruin. Some, he knew, had been ruined by his fault, by his coldness, by his rigidity. He was not a gentle or a caring creature. Never had been.
Still, he had hoped that with you it would be different.
He had hoped that the sweetness he saw in your smile and the curiosity in your eyes would break the cycle. That you, unlike the others, would choose to stay. You would choose him. But he was wrong.
Once again.
The pain of rejection was something that not even the King of Dreams could dispel with words, nor hide behind silence. And then, one night, while you slept, innocent, vulnerable, dreaming, Morpheus made a decision.
He took you.
He took you to the Dreaming, where everything was made of unspoken thoughts and desires. There, he trapped you in a golden and calm dream, where time did not pass and the body never woke.
You would never open your eyes again in the waking world.
You would stay with him. Forever.
He knew it wasn't right. He, more than anyone, knew what it meant to be trapped. He knew what it was like to be caged, silenced and reduced to a captive. He had spent a hundred years like this, and yetβ¦
Still, Morpheus looked at you sleeping and told himself it was different.
That this was for love.
He loved you. He loved you with the intensity of a thousand storms, with the pain of a thousand centuries of solitude. He wanted to protect you from the world, from the dangers, from the pain of living, and most of all, from the possibility of losing you.
"It's love," He repeated. To himself. To Lucienne. To Matthew. To anyone who dared question him.
"I'm just... Keeping the one I love safe."
Morpheus found you where he had left you: in your quarters in the Dreaming.
The room was filled with silence and soft light, with furniture that seemed carved from ancient memories and scents that came from your childhood memories, lavender, old paper, and damp earth. Everything there was shaped to be familiar, to comfort you. To sustain you.
You had freedom.
You could roam the Dreaming as you pleased. The hanging gardens, the endless corridors of glass and mist, the islands floating in constellation-filled skies, all were yours. Everything was within your reach.
But deep down, Morpheus knew it wasn't freedom.
It was a gilded enclosure.
Because there was nowhere to run.
The Dreaming is him. And he is the Dreaming.
Even if you ran, hid, or kept quiet... He would always know where you were. Where would you go. What did you dream about that night. It was the price of living in a world woven from the mind of someone who loves you dearly, or at least believes they do.
And there you were.
Beautiful. Ethereal.
His.
Sitting peacefully on your bed, your legs curled up on the side and your eyes focused on a book you'd checked out from the library.
"Are you enjoying the reading?" Morpheus asked, his voice echoing softly.
You didn't answer right away.
There was no need. The silence between you was full enough.
He took a few steps closer, but kept his distance. He always did. Not out of respect. But out of fear. Fear that if he touched you, even in your dreams... You would hate him. He didn't want you to hate him, that much he knew.
"I brought this book to you when I noticed you dreaming about it, weeks ago." He said calmly. "A lost edition. Never published in the waking world. But I kept it. For moments like this."
You just turned another page. Slowly. Precisely. Impeccably. Ignoring him completely.
He took a deep breath. Or at least something close to it.
"I want you to be happy here," Morpheus continued, almost pleading β which is ridiculous because he doesn't plead β though his voice remained firm. "I want this place to be a home. I want to be... Something good for you."
But the Dreaming trembled, for a brief second, as if it knew the truth he was trying to hide even from himself.
You weren't happy.
And he... Wasn't good for you. But he refused to accept that.
You finally looked at him.
And in that instant, an instant that felt eternal, what Morpheus saw in your eyes struck him like no sword ever could. There was anguish there. Fear. But also something even worse: a silent, restrained, aching fury.
You didn't cry. You didn't beg. You didn't scream.
You spoke clearly. With harshness. With cutting honesty.
"I want to leave here. I want to return to the waking world." You said, each word like a thin knife piercing straight to his core. "If you want me to be happy, send me back!"
The room fell silent.
Morpheus just stared at you. His eyes were as black as the void between the stars, as cold as the absence of sound in a vacuum. On the outside, he was expressionless. Motionless. A living statue of everything he refused to feel.
But outside⦠The sky of the Dreaming reacted.
The sky was beginning to darken, clouds laden with rain and lightning danced in a possible and devastating storm, a mirror of Morpheus's negative emotions.
The kingdom felt what he felt.
And then, he spoke. Slowly. With a calm that sounded almost like a threat.
"You can't leave me." He paused. "You won't leave me."
"I don't want to force you to be mineβ¦" Morpheus began, his voice low, almost a whisper that seemed to reverberate in every corner of that room that was also a disguised prison. "But I will, if I have to."
The words came out with the coldness of a sentence. There was no scream, no visible anger. Only the shadow of something deeper, more ancient, an uncontrollable need to hold on to what he loves, even at the cost of the other's freedom.
Morpheus walked to the exit of his chambers, but stopped to look at you, turning his head slightly.
"I will give you some time alone to consider my words."
It was not a choice, not an option but an ultimatum.
