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ursulaismymiddlename · 2 years

Text

Untitled Document | Dream of the Endless x Reader

A/N: This is what happens when you have a million ideas and no idea what to do with him

Rated M for Morpheus is hot as fuck, but also there's a bit of naughtiness dotted in there

Special thanks to @captainpoopweinersoldier for encouraging this little idea and perusing it before posting to make sure it makes some semblance of sense haha

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“You’d seen entirely too many horror films to be perfectly at ease with the pale man draped in darkness at the corner of the room. More concerning still was the overwhelming urge not to feel concerned at all. A blanket of calmness as still as the night that seemed to hamper any tinge of fear without fully quelling it…”

The cursor blinks at you from the page and you nearly decide to scrub the whole thing. But… well, it’s not a bad idea. You just don’t know what to do with it. None of the ideas have been bad, per se. Some may be more inspired than others, but that’s the shape of things really. Yet it all feels like you’re scattering seeds to the wind and nothing wants to take.

Maybe gardening isn’t the best metaphor. You know actual gardening takes patience and care and hard work to achieve something beautiful. But at this point, you’d settle for weeds in the crack of a sidewalk just to have something. You also know that weeds can be beautiful too.

Instead of deleting the three measly sentences, you decide to… repurpose the document. If you can’t make a whole story just yet, you can at least throw these fic ideas into a Google Doc and maybe try plucking something up later.

Let’s see…

- Your cat gets the drop on a raven, but you save it and decide to take it home and patch it back up. Unbeknownst to you, the raven belongs to the King of Dreams, who comes looking for his companion

Hmmm… not terrible. But really, how would your lazy chonk of a cat manage to capture some mystical bird? The little tubbers can’t even capture flies worth a damn. Maybe the cat is magical too somehow? Are you a witch and the cat your Familiar? That’s worth exploring later maybe.

- You’ve trained as a dancer since childhood, but after years of chronic illness (chronic pain and fatigue syndrome? fibromyalgia?) the only place you can still dance is in your dreams, and it’s there that Morpheus becomes enamored of you

That has some potential. Write what you know, right? But while you know chronic illness, you don’t really know any dancing. This is the sorta shit that happens when you hear songs like “Tiny Dancer” while on your drive to work in the early morning. How would you even write about dancing convincingly? Like are you going to have to Google dance terms to try sounding legit?

But the thought of even his slightest of smiles, even the barest hint of adoration makes your tummy flutter

- Cockworship. Him splayed out on your bed (or his bed?) chiseled from the finest marble, adoring him this god, this endless being, this personification of dreams itself… and his breathless rasp of “Only you may worship me this way.”

Okay, that one has your cheeks heating up and you’re tummy flipping. What a lovely image. And certainly a mutual or two would absolutely love it as well. But… well, smut’s been a little difficult for you lately. Plus, you hardly ever write good smut. There’s always more feeling than you intend because you love a good backstory. Maybe you could try a Porn with Plot sometime, but today doesn’t feel like that day. Perhaps if you get a weekend alone with a bottle of wine one day…

- You dream-walk into a library, expansive and filled to the brim with every book and story ever written or ever going to be written, every life story, every flitting thought, more knowledge than you can ever dream of… What is this place? The Library of Alexandria?

“No, far more than that.” “Will I remember when I wake up.”

“Only you of the Waking World knows that.”

An awed, hushed whisper “I hope I remember…”

The dialogue could use a bit of work, but it’s a start at least. Maybe this one? You’ve always dreamed of seeing the Library of Alexandria, of knowing every story, of knowing everything. What a draw! Anyone who reads or writes would feel that in their bones. But why would a mortal walking through such a fantastical library garner the attention of the Dream Lord? Like, what is so special about You? I mean, yes, in real life people fall in love randomly all the time. Who knows what attracts people to other people? But still, you have to be able to convince yourself before you can convince others. What could a mortal possibly give a divine being?

- You’re a mortal, with Lord Morpheus, but he decides that it’s too dangerous/not good for either of you to continue being together (is this too much like that Twilight book? anyway) Not only does he abruptly break things off with you, but he also banishes you from the dream world, worried that it would be too tempting for either of you, but this leaves you with terrible sleep and in a depression, so much so, you turn to a full bottle of sleeping pills

“Am I so cruel?”

Your heart stops, plummeting into your stomach so fast you’re surprised you don’t hear it whistle and crash like a cartoon character going over a cliff. Looking up from your laptop, you see him. Your dream -er, The Dream. Those first three sentences feel right, somehow. It’s not dark like in your imagination, but the same effect seems to wash over you. Even as you look at your laptop again, you find the words and letters a jumbled mess. The hastily crafted sentences strewn about haphazard and incoherent. Has all this just been a dream?

Something pulls your attention back to him, to Dream. That pale brow clouded by the pinch of curiosity between them. He’s waiting for your answer, and while there is patience now, you feel it will not last forever. And somehow, you know exactly what he’s asking.

“Not cruel, but…” You lick the dryness from your lips. His words are always so measured, so calculated in your head, that you feel he deserves the same from you. “Reserved? Aloof, maybe. Like sometimes you don’t know how to feel so it’s easier just… not to.”

His glossy eyes go distant a moment, and then without a sound he moves, closing the distance between you until he can perch on the end of your bed, one long leg hitched up on the mattress with the dark fabric of his coat pooling around him. “You see me as cold. Uncaring. You think I would condemn a lover to such torment for the mere crime of being mortal.”

“Haven’t you before?”

You’re not exactly sure where those words come from. But they’re right, just the same. Even if some latent part of you didn’t know for sure, the look that crosses his face proves the truth of it. The way his eyes avert, jaw working beneath the cold marble of his skin. There’s a ripple of anger in whatever blanket covers this dream of yours, but there’s shame in it too. Self-doubt. But your heart breaks from it of its own volition.

“You save them. In the end.” The admission brings his gaze back to yours, the sharp lines of his face softened somehow, hopeful. “Despair or Death - or both - warn you what’s happening and you show up to stop them before it’s too late.”

He nods slightly, knowing, the almost imperceptible quirk at the corner of his lips nearly wistful. “You will not find my realm with these. Only the Sunless Lands await you at the bottom of this bottle.”

His words steal the breath from your lungs. His words… they’re yours. The ones that came to you while thinking up with this angsty little fic idea. Hearing him actually say them was all you’d imagined and more. “You read my mind?”

“I read your stories,” he corrects. “Every story finds its way to my library. Written or unwritten.”

“And you read them all?”

Some of his regal posture returns as he regards you. “I am eons old, The Dreaming and its library are extensions of my being. And yet, even I could not fix my eyes on every work conceived of by all of consciousness. Only one of my siblings could.”

“Destiny.” Your understanding seems to please him. And that serves to embolden you. “Then why read mine?”

The Dream Lord’s head tilts slightly, considering. “It is not often I see myself written about so plainly. With truth. And hope.”

That heat creeps across your cheeks again and you snort a laugh at yourself. “There’s no way I could have captured you that well.”

“Closer than you realize.” There’s something else in the glistening of his eyes, distant stars dancing in an ocean of blue with something akin to mischief.

It’s only then the thought occurs to you. “Have you read… every story I’ve ever written?”

He gives a curt nod. “All you have ever written and all you have never written.”

You swallow hard, thoughts harkening back to the lewd image you had of him sprawled across a bed beneath you. Though this time it is more solidified, silky sheets the color of the midnight sky with his skin a glowing moon amongst the stars…

Your lips part to speak, but he is already rising to his feet. And he knows. You can feel it. He knows exactly what you’re thinking and that amuses him too. “You’ll awaken soon. And I have duties I must attend.”

“But…” But what? But then he’s standing before you, the distance closed in a blink the way only dreams can move. You crane your neck to meet his gaze only to find him descending towards you.

Cool knuckles whisper across the curve of your cheek, making your eyes flutter closed just as the feel of soft lips meets your forehead…

You jolt awake in your bed, limbs as warm and heavy as the laptop across your stomach. The dream lingers in your mind even as you rub the sleep from your eyes. How fucking weird. How fucking Meta.

Ah well. You were up now and it didn’t seem like too much of the afternoon had passed. A little nap never hurt anyone. But now it was time to get down to business, that erratic urge to create buzzing through you like it hadn’t done in years. You only hope this time you can buckle down and get something done for a chance.

Opening your laptop, you see the cursor flash on the page.

#kati writes #dream of the endless #morpheus #netflix the sandman #the sandman comics #dream of the endless x reader

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