#additional tags: mirror universe

[oldschoolfic-ds9]

The Alliance

by CHeinemann, 1997

While selecting a prisoner to share her bed, the Intendant notices a Cardassian dissident who immediately catches her fancy. And though Dukat has made a vow never to betray his late wife's memory, the Intendant is not one to take no for an answer.

Words: 6468, Chapters: 1/1, Language: English

Rating: NC-17

Warnings: none listed

Characters: mirror!Dukat, mirror!Kira Nerys (Intendant)

Relationships: Kira(mirror)/Dukat(mirror)

Reader suggested tags (what are these?): mirrorverse

links (link broken? report it and try the archive.org alternative):

archive.org - option 1

[surelysilly]

oct 18th: mirror image

Danny walks into the portal. He walks out. There is nothing wrong with this picture.

Chapters: 1/5

Fandom: Danny Phantom

Category: Gen

Rating: M

Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply  

Characters: Danny Fenton, Tucker Foley, Valerie Gray, Mr. Lancer (Danny Phantom), Jazz Fenton

Additional Tags: Alternate Universe, Alternate Universe - Canon Divergence, Angst, Hurt No Comfort, Supernatural Elements, Violence, Horror, Implied/Referenced Character Death

[aventurineswife]

Hello :) I'm not very used to sending requests so I hope this is okay 😅

Can I request Aventurine with a teen reader who has a similar backstory to him but got picked up by the astral express instead of joining the IPC? I'm sorry if that isn't enough info but that's the premise. Have a good day and ty in advance

Life’s little gambles

Summary: The Astral Express crew makes a stop at an IPC station where you, a member of their team with a dark and strategic past, encounter Aventurine, one of the Ten Stonehearts. Aventurine recognizes your shared experiences and offers wisdom about embracing your new path while acknowledging the allure of your past. Your conversation leaves you reflecting on your journey and the power of choice.

Tags: Aventurine x Reader, Teen!Reader, Found Family, Hurt/Comfort, Emotional Conversations, Mentorship, Self-Reflection.

Warnings: Mentions of past trauma, Themes of loneliness and inner conflict.

A/N: I wrote something similar like this before too🤔, here's the one if you're curious about it!

(artist: srro_yo on Twitter/X)

The hum of the Astral Express served as a soothing constant against the ever-shifting backdrops of the universe. Aboard the train, the crew was abuzz with their usual activities: March 7th snapping photos, Dan Heng engrossed in research, Himeko brewing her signature coffee, and Welt poring over galactic maps. Among them was you, the newest addition to their family. A teenager with a past as jagged and raw as a broken mirror, you were still finding your footing among these kind strangers.

Your quiet demeanor and strategic mind had piqued their interest, but it was the fractured look in your eyes that truly bound you to their hearts. You’d shared snippets of your history—a harsh upbringing in a desert-like world, gambling with your survival, and the scars that came with being a pawn in someone else’s cruel game. Himeko had been the one to coax out these stories during quiet nights over tea, while March sought to draw out your smile through her infectious energy.

Today, however, the Express made an unexpected stop at an IPC station. The platform gleamed with opulence—gold-trimmed structures, bustling workers in sharp suits, and the distant sound of a roulette wheel spinning somewhere. It was there you met him: Aventurine.

He was hard to miss. Standing tall with his hair swept back, eyes scanning the station with a mix of boredom and sharp calculation, Aventurine looked every bit the enigma his reputation promised. He spotted the Express crew almost immediately, his gaze lingering on you for a second longer than the others.

“Astral Express,” he greeted smoothly, his voice like a velvet gamble. “It’s not every day you cross paths with one of the Ten Stonehearts.”

March tilted her head, a mixture of curiosity and suspicion evident in her expression. “Ten Stonehearts? That sounds… important.”

Himeko, always composed, stepped forward. “A pleasure, Mr. Aventurine. To what do we owe the honor?”

Aventurine’s lips curled into a faint smirk. “Just business as usual. But…” His eyes returned to you, sharp and knowing. “You… You have the look of someone who knows how to play the game.”

Caught off guard, you stiffened, unsure of what to say. It wasn’t often someone recognized the shadow of your past so quickly.

Dan Heng, ever protective, subtly stepped closer to you. “Do you know each other?”

“Not yet,” Aventurine said, his tone light but laced with intrigue. “But I see the marks of the same battlefield. Life hasn’t been kind to you, has it, kid?”

Your breath hitched. How could he see through you so easily? You glanced at Himeko, whose reassuring nod gave you the courage to respond. “No… it hasn’t. But I’ve found a better path now.”

Aventurine chuckled, a sound both amused and bitter. “Good for you. Most of us aren’t so lucky. Tell me, though—do you ever miss it? The thrill of the gamble, the rush of defying fate?”

For a moment, you hesitated. The truth was, you did—sometimes. The chaos of your past had been painful, but it had also been exhilarating in its own twisted way. Before you could answer, Aventurine stepped closer, lowering his voice so only you could hear.

“Let me guess,” he murmured. “They saved you from the abyss. But there’s a part of you that wonders… what if you had learned to swim instead?”

The rest of the crew had stepped away, giving you space to talk. Aventurine leaned against a railing, his gaze never leaving yours.

“I’m not trying to pull you back,” he said, his tone uncharacteristically soft. “But I know what it’s like to live with those questions. To wonder if you could’ve played your cards better.”

You frowned, crossing your arms. “And what about you? Are you happy with where you ended up?”

Aventurine tilted his head, his enigmatic smile returning. “Happiness is… a luxury. But power? Control? Those I’ve earned. The IPC is my table, and I always leave with the house’s winnings.”

You studied him, torn between admiration and pity. “That sounds… lonely.”

“It is,” he admitted, surprising you with his honesty. “But it’s better than being someone else’s pawn. And you—” He pointed a gloved finger at you, his eyes alight with intensity. “You’re not a pawn anymore. Don’t forget that, no matter how tempting the old game gets.”

His words lingered with you long after he bid the crew farewell. As the Express pulled away from the station, you sat in the lounge, staring out at the stars. Dan Heng approached, his presence steady and grounding.

“Are you alright?” he asked.

You nodded, though your thoughts were far away. “Yeah… I think so.”

And for the first time in a long while, you felt a strange sense of peace. Aventurine’s words had stirred something in you—a reminder that while the past might always call, you had the power to decide your future.

From the station platform(?), Aventurine watched the Astral Express disappear into the cosmos. A rare, genuine smile crossed his face.

“Good luck, kid,” he murmured to the stars. “Play your cards right.”

[isattt]

Part 1 - Warning: Suicide mention.

Tags: Haunted house, anypov (?), yandere level: low. Theme: romance, spooky? (Not that much) Words: 1500 (~7 minutes)

next >>

You stared at your phone, looking incredulously at the screen. The apartment was dirt cheap and thirty minutes from the university you attended. This really can’t be real... there had to be a catch, you knew that meant for sure there was something wrong with it, but as you eyed the price again, you just couldn’t bring yourself to let this opportunity pass, not after looking for so long.

When you first visited, the place appeared abandoned, with cobwebs and covered in a thin layer of dust. The landlord, a formal-looking man, reassured you that all appliances, despite the old appearance, were working perfectly.

“And well, if you need anything fixed, I will do it for you in a heartbeat, alright?” The man says, with a wide charming smile on his face, “Don’t be shy to come to me.” He says, patting away the dust from the top of the microwave.

You eyed the place, your eyes landing back to his. “If you don’t mind me asking... Why is it so cheap?” You ask, noticing the dust covered hoops with half made embroideries of delicate flowers, maybe someone old who passed away...? you think to yourself.

“Heh...” He says, with a humorlessly chuckle to himself, his smile quickly faltering “Well... a guy… he… you know...” He says with a slight tremble to his voice, rubbing his arm nervously “Sorry... It’s hard even thinking about it... I wish I could have done more...”

Your eyes widened slightly, quickly acknowledging what he was trying to say. You looked at him with a sympathetic gaze, taking his words in “Oh, I’m so sorry I… I didn’t realize.“  

“It’s alright, pal.” He says reassuringly, putting on a braver front. “I’m actually more worried about you now, you know? You alright with that?” He walks closer, carefully putting a hand on your shoulder. “Things like these make folks uncomfortable. I myself wouldn’t be able to do it.“

You stare at him, before looking away “Well... it’s pretty disturbing, obviously...-”, you say with a sigh “-but I really need it so...”

“I get you, I do,” He nods. “Hopefully, I can make you feel at home. Call my number if you need something, anything, alright? I really am not kidding,” He furrowed his brows, looking at the piles of hoops with a pensive look “So-” He suddenly clasps his hands together putting on a weaker smile than before “-when you move in it will be all cleaned up, I got you”

You mirrored his small smile with one of your own. “Thanks, Will.”

It’s been one week since you have moved in and you have settled in nicely. William did a good job cleaning everything. When you came back, it was almost like you stepped into a completely different place. Even the air of the place was new and lighter, even if still slightly cold.

Ever since then, nothing unusual has happened. You spend your days the same as any other day, just now in a smaller home than before.

Well, almost nothing unusual. The house was always chilly, making weird noises from time to time, and you often had nightmares about a tall man just standing at the foot of your bed, watching you sleep. But you would not let your paranoia drive you away from the best apartment you’ve found after almost a month of searching. Ghosts, demons, and such didn’t exist, after all. When the semester starts, it will be all worth it, you repeat to yourself, trying to find some solace in this situation.

Once you got home that evening after going out to buy your groceries, you noticed an odd recent addition to your wall, just by the entrance, a CO2 meter. Did William install it while you were gone? It was odd though, you never thought he would be the type of landlord to just enter your place uninvited. It was unlike him to invade your privacy.

You decide to take out your phone. Looking at the contacts, you send a quick message to him, trying to understand his intentions. Could it be something that was scheduled that I didn’t know about?  You thought to yourself as you typed your message, “Hey will, what’s up with the CO2 meter?” You hit send, putting your phone aside for a moment on the counter to unload your groceries.

“CO2 meter?” the screen lights up with his reply. You quickly pick your phone back up to reply, “The one you installed?” you furrow your brows, staring at his text with a confused look. Did he forget?  You keep staring at your screen, anxiously waiting for a reply... 

“I didn’t install a CO2 meter.”

“Is everything okay? Do you need me to come over??”

You suddenly feel the familiar cold from the apartment enveloping your body, making you shiver slightly. What could this even mean for you? Would someone really break inside your place only to put something like this and nothing else...? You for sure needed to take that thing down at least It might be a hidden camera or something.

“I don’t know, to be honest.” You reply to him.

“I looked at the cameras in the hallway for you, but I found nothing, pal.” He said, fixing his glasses on his nose with one hand.

William was sitting at your table, sipping on the cup of tea you had given him. He arrived not much later after your text, coming immediately to check on you. “It’s too damn bad I can’t be more helpful here. Even the cameras on the outside found nothing unusual.” He says, taking another sip of his tea.

You were leaning against the wall, staring at him while holding your own cup of tea, the warmth of the liquid providing you a sliver of comfort in this situation. “It’s okay... this is already better news than I expected,” you say as you shift your weight onto your other leg. “Maybe it was always there and, ugh, I don’t know, maybe I didn’t notice it before.” 

“Well... hah...” He brought the cup to his lips, hesitating before taking a drink of the hot liquid. “I noticed something though...” He continues, “It’s nothing horrible, I mean… It’s just... well, you can see for yourself” He lowered his cup to the table, bringing his phone out of his pocket.

You sit down in the chair by his side, dragging the chair closer to him. When your shoulders touch, William flinches slightly, but keeps the phone in place. You look between his eyes and the screen with a curious look.

The screen of his phone showed you the camera feed of your hallway. The timestamp showed it was around noon, a few hours before you found the CO2 meter on your wall. It was empty, no one coming or going. 

“Around here,” William said, forwarding the video. Nothing changed, still the same empty hallway. Before you could ask him what he had seen, the feed showed your door opening. No one came out, of course. You weren’t at home.

Then… the door closed by itself, the same way it had opened.

“What...” you muttered, staring at the screen with wide eyes. “But I locked the door...”

“I imagined you did.” He looks at you, an uncertain look on his face. “What do you think of setting cameras inside here? I could lend you one of mine.”

“Maybe...” you say, still shaken by what you had seen. You feel the chilly atmosphere of the house again, creeping up your spine. “I wasn’t so much worried about the meter anymore, but this is something else.”

He leans back against his chair, creating some distance between you two as he puts his phone away. “Look, I’m not trying to imply anything, but these sorts of things have been happening all the time. Folks come here, these things happen... they leave.”

He grabs the cup once again, running his finger over the rim of the cup. “I am not one to believe in ghosts, but…”

“If these things exist, at least the fella who is haunting you is the least dangerous ghost you could have, hm?” He says with a small smile, a wistful look on his face.

You raise an eyebrow at his statement, while he could be right, it’s hard to believe, given your circumstances “Well, he is still creeping me out, even if that’s the case...” You say harshly, suddenly feeling the cold air of the room leaving.

He nods understandingly “Mhm, I can understand,” he pauses, emptying his cup of now lukewarm tea and standing up to put the cup on the sink “I don’t know why, but it’s been a lot more active with you than with everyone else... when you sat close to me just now, I felt like someone was staring daggers at me! Hahaha!”

He finishes washing his own cup, walking to stand in front of you. “If you see him, tell him I miss his nerdy ass!” he says, grinning widely. “Let’s just install those cameras so you can sleep easy at night, alright?”

[hd-erised]

H/D Erised Fic: Pillar of Salt

Author: @epitomereally Recipient: @agentmoppet Pairing: Draco Malfoy/Harry Potter Rating: Explicit Word count: ~63,000 Tags: Enemies-to-Lovers, Eighth Year, Multiverse, (Kinda), Mind Bonds, Hurt/Comfort, UST, Resolved Sexual Tension, Pining, Pining while Fucking, Angst with a Happy Ending, Dream States, Magical Theory, the Room of Requirement, the Mirror of Erised, Violence, Horror, Alcohol, Draco Malfoy Redemption, but absolutely not, Redeemed Draco Malfoy, Light D/s, First Times, Virgin Draco Malfoy, Oral Sex, Facials, Fingering, Anal Sex, Rimming, Switching, Additional Warnings in Author’s Notes

Summary: From the lake in the Room of Hidden Things, Draco knows three things: 1. Mirror universes exist, and he’s going to find the best one—the one where he did the right thing. 2. Harry Potter and him are awfully cosy in some of these other universes, whereas Potter in real life is starting to act very odd around him indeed. 3. Draco’s reflection—the mirror version of him, the worst version of him—seems to be growing crueler. And stronger.

Disclaimer: All Harry Potter characters herein are the property of J.K. Rowling and Bloomsbury/Scholastic. No copyright infringement is intended.

Pillar of Salt

[timetochillnow]

Into The Mirror

Chapters: 4/?

Rating: General

Relationships: Syril Karn/Dedra Meero

Characters: Dedra Meero, Syril Karn, Eedy Karn, Bix Caleen, Cassian Andor, Luthen Rael, Heert

Additional Tags: Alternate Universe, Fix-It

"If Luthen had found Dedra before she the Empire, she'd have become Kleya." Well, maybe not quite, but the world as we know it is a very different one...

AU where Dedra never grows up in the Kinderblock. Follows the events of Andor S1+2, but some things turn out very, very differently.

First two chapters to drop close together, with updates weekly.

----------

Enjoy <3

[what-is-love-babey-dont-hurt-me]

. ݁₊ ⊹ . ݁ Sir Meteor ݁ . ⊹ ₊ ݁. A Kirby OC Masterpost

Born from the last wishes of a dying planet, Sir Meteor is a genuine celestial being dinosaur!! He’s been around for millions of years and might be in a history book or two, but any past escapades don’t really matter! Currently he scours the stars looking for any more dinosaurs, and the rest of his family.

Find him on:

Toyhouse, Art Fight, and by using #Kirby OC: Sir Meteor. Toyhouse contains the most comprehensive library of artwork, followed by his tag, and his Art Fight has lovely art done by other people <3

Additional Resources:

Allosaurus Skull 3d Model by ramon.gonzalez.cabrera, viewable for free online, no download needed.

╔═*.·:·.✧ ✦ ✧.·:·.*═╗

Artwork:

>> It's Tough to be a God- April Fools Animatic >> Dizzy! Animatied Character Turnaround >> The Dinosaur Hunts >> Brothers Together >> A Plan for You--ft. Crux

Follow the story of Sir Meteor : STORY COMICS >> On Wishes >> Birds and Dinosaurs >> Do you want to make a wish? ALTERNATIVE UNIVERSES: >> Tournament AU >> Frostbitten Fossil AU >> Warrior Cats: Meteor Fall AU MIRROR WORLD >> Mirror World: Mosaic Meteor >> Mosaic Meteor and the Shadow Queen

Misc. Posts:

>> Sir Meteor Design Process >> Star Allies PFP >> Favorite Food >> Sir Meteor's Little Brother >> Dinosaurs and Birds: A Lesson in World Building and Biology >> New Encounter

╚═*.·:·.✧ ✦ ✧.·:·.*═╝

Other:

-⭕Fanart of him is welcome and encouraged! I would love to be tagged in it! -⭕ I love getting asks about him! Be warned i can be slow to respond. -❌ Meteor is uncomfortable with romance, I discourage shipping him unless platonic or with my approval! -❓ His skull mask belonged to his mother so he is uncomfortable with other -people handling or stealing it. It is not forbidden to show, but important to consider. - ‼️Meteor will dislike being told he is not a dinosaur. - ‼️Being inspired by my work is okay! If you heavily reference or base an OC/any work off of Sir Meteor please credit me.

[safeturnip]

tell me that my lonesome nights are over

words: 2.7k

characters: GoodTimesWithScar, ImpulseSV, Skizzleman, TangoTek, GeminiTay, Grian

summary: While extracting valuables from an old manor, Scar and Grian encounter a monster and are forced to hide

additional tags: Alternate Universe - R.E.P.O., memory loss, monsters, mild horror

(written for @mcyt-soulmate-sweepstakes !!)

AO3 link

***

Retrieve and extract.

It was a simple enough order to follow, and maybe the robots had been created because the order was so laughably simple. Why waste a perfectly good human to do menial work when a group of robots could do the job just as well? It was safer, cheaper, easier—the robots got destroyed in the process of clearing out a targeted building? No problem! Just slap together a new set of robots from spare metal in the scrapyard, inject premade software into their systems, and send them on their merry way.

In the kitchen of an ancient, once-resplendent manor, Scar stared helplessly as the plate he'd just picked up shattered apart into splinters of glowing green. He didn't understand why the plate had broken; he'd barely touched the door of the cabinet he was taking it out of. He'd made sure that his manipulation of the plate had been full of precision and accuracy, and it had all been for nothing. At least none of his other fellow robots had been around to witness his failure.

From a couple rooms down, Scar could hear the sounds of the other robots arguing amongst themselves. After doing a final quick scan of the kitchen to see if there were any other valuables—nothing—he headed in the direction of the squabbling.

The manor was a blurry, smudged-out picture of orange and brown. Wallpaper peeled despondently around the edges, furniture upholstery faded and flaked off of the wood and metal frames of chairs and sofas and beds, floorboards creaked even when nothing was moving across them. The building had the air of a painstakingly carved marble statue that was slowly losing the war to time and the elements.

Scar's footsteps were muffled by the mouldering carpet, the beam of his built-in flashlight cutting through the gloom about as effectively as a cold knife through a block of ice. Cobwebs reached down from the ceiling, trailing along his head and neck as if they wanted to ensnare him, drag him into the manor's depth, make him a part of the deteriorating brick and rotting wood and suffocating darkness. Scar shook off the delicate silver threads and continued on.

Faded portraits of long-dead people stared down at him as he wandered through the rooms and hallways of the manor. He kept his head on a swivel, sensors on high alert for audio or visual indicators of any possible danger. He knew there were monsters prowling the abandoned hallways and rooms; just earlier he'd been jumped by a monster that had wrapped itself around his head and vomited up a disgusting green goop that destroyed any valuables he'd come across. The other robots had shooed him away from the cart and drop point until the puke monster had grown bored of him and detached from his body. Scar didn't blame them; he understood their thought processes perfectly. Extracting valuables was more important than his survival—than any of their survival, in fact.

The hallway opened up into a wide room with its ceiling's crossbeams propped up haphazardly along the walls as if the screws and nails holding them in place had simply given up and surrendered them to gravity. Hearing footsteps above him, Scar peered up, and a yellow figure dropped down from the catwalk of broken beams, narrowly missing Scar.

Scar stumbled backwards. "Whoa, watch out!"

"Sorry, man," Impulse said apologetically, taking a mirroring step back. Caught in his grasp was a vase, a delicate thing of whisper-thin porcelain with white and blue patterns crawling around its sides. Scar was surprised that Impulse hadn't shattered the vase when he jumped down. He gave the room a cursory scan, and, after seeing nothing, followed Impulse as he left the room.

There was a library in this manor, with towering bookshelves crammed full of books, old fragile things that smelled like dry paper and forgotten memories. Near the door, Skizz was struggling to manoeuvre a gigantic wooden crate. A bold arrow painted in bright, near-glowing white pointed upwards in a manner that seemed almost like a warning. Skizz jumped in place as he struggled to free the crate from a bookshelf, muttering in frustration to himself, something that struck Scar as a very human thing to do.

"I need some help with this!" Skizz called.

Tango walked over, his hand already outstretched to help Skizz with the crate. "Wha—there's like, basically no value left on this, Skizz!"

"Hey!" Skizz protested. "It was taking you five months to get here, what did you want me to do?"

With the two robots' joint effort, the crate was freed from the snare of the bookshelf, and they started to slowly drag it out of the room. Right before he walked out of the door, Skizz turned around and said, "Oh—Scarface! Thanks for just standing there and watching me struggle with this." It was almost impressive how much sarcasm he was able to pack into one sentence.

"Yeah, of course!" Scar responded easily. "I'm always happy to help."

Skizz left the room with an affectionate mutter of, "This guy . . ." his voice trailing off as he disappeared in the direction of the first drop point.

It was strange sometimes how familiar the robots were with each other. This was only their third mission together, yet Skizz had a nickname for all of the other robots, all of them knew how Grian would start humming the exact same song whenever he drove the cart, their exchanges were filled with an easy banter that had nothing to do with their directive but was done because the robots found it fun. Scar's interactions with the other robots were tinged with a niggling sense of recognition, like a half-completed sentence or a familiar melody heard from a distance away. Déjà vu, a constantly asked question of Haven't we done this before?

He pushed those thoughts away. What use did they serve for his current mission?

"—guy, bad guy, bad guy, bad guy!"

Scar turned towards the sound of the voice, and saw Gem hurtling into the room at top speed. Her stride abruptly slowed as soon as she passed the threshold of the doorway; her stamina must have just run out. The left side of her body had a melted look about it, the pink metal scorched and heat-warped into shapes that looked like distorted rippling waves.

"You okay?" Scar asked, right as Gem said, "There's a huge laser guy back there. I didn't have anywhere to hide, and he got me right as I was running away. He did some damage to me, but I don't think I need—"

Thunk. Gem's sentence was cut off as a cart appeared out of nowhere and slammed into her back, knocking her over. She collapsed down into her smallest form, the sound of her shriek drowned out by Grian's cackling. Of course it was Grian who was driving the cart; who else would be running over other robots like that?

Gem's limbs flailed around in the air as she gently rocked to and fro on her back. Scar reached out to pick her up, but she popped back to her feet before he could. "I don't want to be anywhere near you," Gem said to Grian as she sprinted out of the room, his laughter chasing her out.

Singing to himself, Grian parked the cart off to the side, tucking it next to a desk where it was out of the way from any potential monsters that might wander into the library. "Mister Sandman—" nudging a dusty-looking radio into a more stable position in the cart "—bring me a dream . . ." With the items in the cart secured, he trotted off in the direction of the nearest door.

"Oh, I think Tango's already cleared out that room," Scar informed Grian, and Grian hummed in acknowledgment, changing his course to head into a different room.

This one was smaller than the library, some kind of sitting room that hadn't seen any actual use for what seemed like decades. There was an old, wood-framed couch with fraying cushions and a few chairs strewn around the room like whoever had last sat in them had shoved them away and not bothered to see where they ended up. An old lamp with a crooked, moth-eaten lampshade cast a wavering, orange-tinged illumination around the space.

There was a soft click as Grian opened his map. "Man, I'm seeing yellow dots everywhere, but I can't—" Grian's voice abruptly cut off, the apertures of his eyes constricting to focus on something outside of Scar's field of view. "Hide."

Scar was already moving, sprinting to the corner of the room where a chair with red upholstery had been haphazardly shoved into. He dropped down to his smallest size, squeezing into the tiny space between the floor and the seat of the chair, nearly clipping one of the rotting wooden legs as he went. Black static flickered across his vision in protest at the sudden motion, and he waited anxiously for it to dissipate. At least he was close enough to the ground that he wouldn't break anything if he did suddenly shut down. Then Grian was sliding underneath the chair, his momentum halting only when he crashed into Scar with a muffled clank.

"What—" Scar started, but then he saw what they were hiding from.

A gigantic head floated into the room, silent as a shark drifting through the water. Though calling it a head was a grossly inaccurate description; it was about as much a head as a starving mountain lion was a kitten.

Desiccated skin wrapped tight around the framework of a skull, skin that was thin as paper, grey and dried-out, lips shriveled and pulled back to reveal a mouthful of sharp, bone-white teeth. Its eyes glowed like burning coals in the heart of a smouldering fire set in a pair of dark, cavernous sockets. Nerve endings trailed out from the base of its severed spinal cord like the tentacles on some kind of grotesque, nightmarish jellyfish. Even though Scar had seen the head before, seeing it for the second or third or tenth time was just as terrible as seeing it for the very first time.

If Scar was human, his heart would have been trying to pound its way out of his chest, his breathing sharp and shallow, sweat pricking his skin. But as a robot, there were no physical indicators of terror. Despite that, there was still something, some sort of self-preservation—not instinct, because instinct implied they were living beings. It was something similar, though, something that make then freeze in their tracks then sprint in the opposite direction when they heard the slow drag of a shotgun muzzle on the ground, the rasp of a dark cloak dragging over a metal-grate floor. They knew the monsters would stop at nothing to destroy them, and they did not want to die.

Maybe they'd been programmed to feel fear as a sort of failsafe, to ensure that as many valuables as possible could be brought back to the Taxman before the robots' inevitable destruction.

The head floated closer to their hiding spot, mouth gaping open as if to scent at the air for its hidden prey. Grian crowded further backwards against Scar, pushing him into space they did not have. They were pressed close enough together that Scar could feel the faintly whirring vibrations from the near-silent circuitry underneath Grian's metal carapace.

"It's okay." Scar kept his volume low, barely louder than an exhale. Grian swiveled his head around to look at him. The apertures of his eyes were dilated in a way that looked almost like panic, something so raw and undiluted and helpless, that Scar felt obligated to add, "We'll be fine."

"Shh."

Scar darted his attention away from Grian and back to the floating head. It had paused in the centre of the room directly in front of the chair the two of them were tucked underneath, close enough that Scar could have reached out and grabbed it. What were they meant to do in this situation? They were sitting ducks in their hiding spot, a wall at their back and the monster at their front with no alternative escape. Scar wished they had some kind of weapon, anything to fight back against the monsters, anything that meant they wouldn't be forced to cower underneath a chair or table or shelf whenever the slightest hint of danger peered around a corner.

Failure was not an option, because failure meant they'd be dropped into a much-used arena, forced to fight each other to the death, their broken bodies left to slowly corrode away in the scrapyard—where were these thoughts coming from? Had he actually experienced these memories, or was it just a string of code written in to simulate another layer of fear? Scar desperately wanted to ask Grian if he ever experienced something similar, but didn't dare speak again, not with the head so close.

The head started to turn in their direction, and Scar braced himself for it to spot them, fling itself upon them with snapping teeth and murderous destruction.

A clatter came from somewhere outside the room, loud as a gunshot in the complete silence. The head whipped around toward the noise, mouth dropping open to emit a harsh, rattling growl before hurtling out of the room. Then, silence. It was gone. Grian glanced briefly back at Scar before shuffling out from under cover.

Once he was clear of the chair, Grian shot back up to his full height with a sharp accordion-pop of motion, blocking Scar's field of vision with his short, stubby legs. Scar followed him out, extending himself back up at a slower pace, keeping an eye on his lower motor to make sure it wouldn't short-circuit on him.

Grian was standing in the doorway, scanning the corridor outside the room. The words I am worried!! were practically floating above his head as he scanned from side to side in a paranoid fashion. He must not have seen anything because he backed away from the door and came to stand in front of Scar.

Before Grian could say anything, Scar tilted his head forward until his forehead knocked against Grian's with a hollow, metallic klonk that reverberated though both of their bodies. "See, Grian! Told you we'd be fine."

"I . . ." For the briefest of moments, Scar felt his balance shift slightly as Grian leaned reciprocatively into the reassuring touch. Then he pulled back from Scar, looking like he wanted to say something else—and a loud, mechanical rumbling sound echoed through their minds, breaking the moment. A new quota to fill up flashed into visibility in the corner of Scar's vision.

"Oh—looks like Gem's found the next extraction point," Grian said, gaze unfocused in a way that meant he was probably looking at the newly assigned quota as well. "Too bad we've been spending the past few minutes running for our lives instead of finding valuables."

"But look at us! We're still alive," Scar pointed out cheerfully. "And, hey—this room wasn't a total bust." Scar held out a hand, and from under the chair that'd served as their hiding place slid out a diamond, faintly haloed in a yellow light. Its price flickered briefly across his vision in green numbers before disappearing. He floated the diamond into the air and extended the treasure towards Grian like he would a brand-new toy to a pet. "Look, big money!"

"Big money, big money," Grian parroted, the diamond reflected in the glassy curve of his eyes, his voice pitched up into something that approximated happiness. And at seeing the other robot cheered up, Scar felt a flicker of . . . something, a sensation similar to that of sliding the cart over-brimming with valuables into an active drop point, watching the money tick up in his vision.

"Let's hurry up and get this to the rest of our friends before they bank everything," said Grian, plodding rapidly towards the door. Scar followed with the diamond still hovering in the air before him wreathed in yellow telekinetic energy.

Grian's map flashed briefly into his hand, casting a pale green glow across his face and the huge globes of his eyeballs as he plotted their course to the extraction point. "Right, I really hope we don't run into any other googlies on the way there."

"You know," Scar began conversationally, "if we had a gun . . ."

"Oh my—Scar, we are not getting you a gun."

[ottpopfic]

If You're Okay With Being Mine (1927 words) by ottpop Chapters: 1/1 Fandom: Percy Jackson and the Olympians - Rick Riordan, Percy Jackson and the Olympians & Related Fandoms - All Media Types, The Heroes of Olympus - Rick Riordan Rating: General Audiences Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply Relationships: Jason Grace/Leo Valdez Characters: Leo Valdez, Jason Grace, Calypso (Percy Jackson) Additional Tags: Marriage Proposal, Engagement, Kissing, Just them being disgustingly in love Series: Part 20 of Valgrace Good Future

Summary: Leo takes one of the rings out of the dish between his thumb and pointer finger, skin still stained a dark tarnish from making it, and offers it up to Jason as plainly as every other thing he's made him.

“Leo,” Jason breathes, everything stopping. The tides pause, the moon freezes, the earth quits turning. There is nothing in the whole universe but the two of them standing in the middle of the Way Station’s WorkShop like a pair of morons. He's not sure where to look, eyes flicking back and forth from Leo’s face to the ring then back again

“I wanna be yours, if you're okay with being mine?” Leo gets out a little jittery with nerves, a mirror of Jason’s confession all those years ago, “But like, forever and with witnesses and stuff”

“Are you asking to marry me?”

[glorious-revolution]

we're not quite lovers...| chapter 2

When they were younger, Jayce was the sun. When he shone, his warmth was simply unavoidable; if you were caught in his rays it was difficult to resist basking in it. He was creation incarnate, it spilled out of him like it simply could not be contained inside the body of one man, and when it did, oh how Viktor loved him. Loved every lilt of his voice and pull of his smile. Jayce’s intellect left a glowing iridescent trail in his wake, something mystical that one simply had to follow, enchanted by its sheer beauty. Viktor looks at himself in the mirror, tracing his eyes over every flaw of his reflection in the early morning light. He does not leave iridescence in his wake. Jayce Talis has never basked in his glow.

Jayce left Viktor's life like a freight train barrelling down the tracks, and returned four years later like an answered prayer. Neither one of them is sure how they fit together anymore, but they want to try.

Or: college best friends jayvik reunite after four years of no communication, and realise they're in love at very different speeds.

Chapter two is now up! Viktor tries avoiding Jayce, but gives in when Jayce tracks him down and asks him on definitely-not-a-date

Rating: Not Rated Archive Warning: No Archive Warnings Apply Additional Tags: Friends to Lovers, Alternate Universe - College/University, College, coffee shop AU, Viktor is in love with Jayce (League of Legends), Jayce is Trying His Best (League of Legends), Mutual Pining, Yearning, Lack of Communication, when youre in love with your best friend but neither of you will say it, Anxiety Attacks, Post-Traumatic Stress Disorder - PTSD, Canon Disabled Character, Trans Viktor (League of Legends), Fluff, some hurt/comfort some angst bc i cant resist, but im aiming for more fluff i promise, Bisexual Jayce (League of Legends), bookshop owner viktor

[hpanimagiweek]

🦉 The prompts are finally revealed for HP Animagi Week 2025!

This mini-fest is now officially back for its second year, so buckle up everyone, sharpen your pencils and charge your computers, it’s time to write!

Prompt list:

Day 1: Dreams

Day 2: “Behave."

Day 3: Warmth

Day 4: Looking in the mirror

Day 5: Secret ritual

Day 6: Family

Day 7: Free prompt

Joker 1: In the Forbidden Forest

Joker 2: Midnight snack

You’ll find under the cut a few reminders regarding the schedule and rules:

Schedule:

The event starts on April 7th, 2025.

The event ends on April 13th, 2025.

The AO3 collection will close on April 17th, 2025.

The masterlist will be shared on April 18th, 2025.

Rules & Guidelines:

(1) Minimum word count: 100 / Maximum word count: None.

(2) The use of AI-generated content is strictly forbidden.

(3) The entries for this event can be in the form of written stories or artworks. All submissions must be of your own creation or must be added with the original author/artist’s explicit permission.

(4) All entries must be new works, meaning that your submission cannot be an additional chapter of an existing fic. However, it can be a part of a serie of one-shots or related works.

(5) As this is a fandom-focused event, your entries must stay within the Harry Potter universe. No crossovers or original characters will be accepted.

(6) Each submission must be appropriately tagged and content-warned. This includes the use of the Archive Rating and Warnings. If you decide to use “Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings”, you must still warn for potentially triggering content in the additional tags or the author’s notes.

(7) Your entries must involve animagi in some way.

(8) To help keep the AO3 collection organized, please use the following tag format: - Each entry must have the tag HP Animagi Week 2025 . - Each entry must have a tag for the prompt used.

If you have any questions about this event, please reach out to me through Tumblr or by email at hpanimagiweek_mods@outlook.com

Happy writing everyone!

[oldschoolfic-ds9]

Strangers in a Strange Land

by netgirl, 2006

Jadzia considered pushing her away, but if there's one thing that she had learned in over three hundred years as both a man and a woman it was that there was something about an attractive woman on their knees that inspired agreeability.

Words: 832, Chapters: 1/1, Language: English

Rating: PG

Warnings: none listed

Characters: Jadzia Dax, mirror!Ezri Tigan

Relationships: Jadzia Dax/mirror!Ezri Tigan

Reader suggested tags (what are these?): mirrorverse

links (link broken? report it and try the archive.org alternative):

squidge

archive.org - option 1

[nanapurinin]

Devour Me

Professor Melon (BEASTARS) x College | University Student/Gazelle Reader

‼️ RATING:

Explicit

‼️ TAGS/TRIGGER WARNINGS:

Obsessive Behavior, Obsessive Reader, Vore, Dead Dove: Do Not Eat, Vore as a Metaphor for Love, Blood and Injury, Blood Licking, Obsession, Explicit Language, Delusions, Delusional Reader, Gender-Neutral Pronouns, Reader-Insert, Gender-neutral Reader, You Have Been Warned, College | University Student Reader, Professor Melon (BEASTARS), Haru (BEASTARS) Bashing, Reader Hates Haru (BEASTARS)

‼️ ADDITIONAL WARNING/NOTE: the tags make this look worse than it is lol however, i wanted to cover my bases to be safe. essentially, this is an obsessive reader who asks melon to eat them and he does. if this is not something you would like to read, please, DO NOT READ any further. thank you.

SUMMARY:

It’s selfish, so very selfish. How it is fair that he directed his attention to her—an ugly white dwarf rabbit—when he could have you—a beautiful gazelle!

You and him are meant to be!

@kurapikaka

It’s selfish, so very selfish. How is it fair that he directed his attention to her—an ugly white dwarf rabbit—when he could have you—a beautiful gazelle!

You and him are meant to be!

Maybe the bitch blinded him with her promiscuous rabbit ways!

Yes!

Yes, that has to be it.

There is no other answer!

Because why on God’s green earth would Melon, a gazelle, go after a rabbit! It’s obscene.

Idiotic.

Complete and utter bullshit.

He needs to be reminded, yes, only reminded about what he could have; what he’s missing out on!

If only he would look your way. Ugh! You have done everything and anything to have him look your way in class but to no avail. His eyes would simply glance over you as if you were a mere fly on the wall.

No more! No more of being ignored, neglected, unwanted…unloved. You’re going to take destiny into your own hands.

Melon will be yours.

.

.

.

.

Fuck that white dwarf rabbit. Fuck her—FUCKHERFUCKHERFUCKHERFUCKHERFUCKHERFUCKHERFUCKHERFUCKHERFUCKHERFUCKHERFUCKHERFUCKHERFUCKHERFUCKHERFUCKHERFUCKHERFUCKHERFUCKHERFUCKHERFUCKHERFUCK—

STOP!

You freeze, a natural full body lockdown due to your nature. You need to breathe, you have to breathe, but you can’t.

You can’t.

Can’t breathe.

Breathe!

With a full body shudder your fist slams into a mirror. You feel yourself come back to yourself.

You’re in the restroom, and you can’t remember how you got there. There’s a stinging sensation from your right hand, and there’s a large cut slashed diagonally across your knuckles.

You breathe.

You focus on the pain, and how you can feel the blood seeping from the cut and drip onto the white-tiled floor. It comes back to you by bits and pieces as you stare into the shattered remains of the mirror before you.

Your own reflection is distorted. Your snout is elongated and when you open your mouth it looks like you have fangs.

Who is that?

You breathe.

Melon. Yes, yes, you were going to confront him—no, discuss why he insists upon ignoring you for that rabbit. You don’t even know her name because why should you. She’s no one compared to you.

Haru, what does she have that you don’t?

Yes! Melon and that rabbit were together in an empty hallway. He had been kneeling down to her with their pinkies interlock. Why were their pinkies interlocked?

The reflection seems to become more monstrous, more predator-like.

He’s going to eat her in a month. You begin laughing historically, smacking the rim of the sink as the laughter racks your body. How novel! A gazelle eating a rabbit!

It must be a joke, a prank! They caught you peaking around the corner and wanted to make you a fool, but they’re the fools! You see right through them and their silly little play.

You stop laughing.

Your hand stings, blood’s dripping and dripping and dripping.

In one blink to the next your outside Melon’s class. The door slides open and you enter with your hands clasped together as you take slow, measured steps to his desk.

“Bum bum badum,” you hum—it’s the tune for a wedding march.

Melon pauses, pen held over papers, “Can I help you?” He glances at you, and you have a full body shiver. He’s never looked at you this long before!

You walk up to him and press a bloody finger upon his pristine, white mask, “You can help me! Only you!” Disregarding personal space, you wiggle yourself onto his lap. You bracket him within your arms, looming over him. “Eat me,” you say.

His blinks. “Excuse me.”

You caress the loop of his mask, teasing it down. Your blood stains his fur.

“I heard your little promise with that rabbit,” the word rabbit rolls off your tongue like it’s poison. “Eat me,” you insist, “I would taste much better! Why go for a measly rabbit when you could have a gazelle. A fellow gazelle!”

You rock forward trying to entice another sort of attention from him.

Big, strong hands stop you; his hands grip your waist and you feel pinpricks stabbing into your sides.

Why are his nails so sharp?

Melon hums, “You want to be eaten?” He digs into the meat of your thighs and, suddenly, you’re facing the ceiling. Now, he looms over you.

You’re trapped.

“Poor thing wants my attention so bad you’ve decided that being devoured is the only way,” he coos. He grabs your injured hand, raptly watches as your blood drips down and lands upon the papers below. “Poor thing,” he says again.

“Please,” you beg. This is everything you’ve always wanted and more. He’s watching you, looking at you! You have all his attention and then some, oh how happy you are. “Eat me, not her!”

He appraises you before leaving you bereft of him. It’s cold. Why is it so cold without him?

You hear the sliding and locking of the door.

Warmth spreads through you because he’s back. Melon’s back and he envelops you with he entire being.

“I suppose I am my mother’s son.”

This confuses you because what does his mother have to do with this? Has she too eaten a gazelle?

“I want you to remember that you asked for this,” he declares, pushing his mask down.

Down it goes and you can’t wait to see his full face. You know it’ll be beautiful, so very beautiful.

Teeth.

Large, sharp teeth greet you.

The hand not being gripped by Melon’s explores those sharp, predator-like teeth.

“How,” you breathe. He’s a gazelle!

He nips the meat of your palm, “I’m a hybrid, the disgusting creation of a gazelle and a leopard.” Melon takes your bloody hand and licks it, smacking his lips after each lick.

He’s tasting you.

“You’re beautiful.”

Melon pauses before he smiles—his teeth are bared and his eyes are closed, a lure.

It works.

Something comes over you. Maybe it’s your instincts, deep ingrained within you knowing death is near because you go lax. Your head lolls on his desk which bares your neck.

Calm.

You feel calm. You’re going to die by being eaten alive, and you’re calm.

At least he’s eating you and not her. He’s eating you, so obviously he wants you and not her. He chose to wait until next month for her, but he’s eating you now.

(Is this what devotion is? You, a mere worshiper, prostrating yourself in front of your god, Melon, hoping for salvation.)

He loves you. (A benevolent god.)

“Thank you for the meal,” you hear before a sharp, searing pain erupts from your neck.

He’s eating you, tasting you. He’s tasting the love and devotion you have for him.

He loves you.

You love him; your blood is going to be inside him, you’ll always be apart of him now. Forever.

You’re fading fast and the last thing you see is Melon looking at you with your blood covering him from his snout down to his shirt. You did that, not her.

But—you reach for him. He doesn’t look happy. Melon’s frowning at you.

NONONONONONONONONONONONO—YOULOVEMEDON’TLOOKATMELIKETHATMELONPLEASEILOVE—

“Bland.”

(A cruel god.)

[ninesbey0nd]

Forbidden Waltz | Kang Yeosang

SYNOPSIS. Your university is quite well renowned for its creative and abstract programs, so it was no surprise that the majority of the students were pursuing a profession in arts. There was a focus in art, film, dance, drama, music, you could go on. These departments, however, enforced an unspoken, exclusive clique social norm. You never understood it. Thus, the student body was quite split based on their major.

PAIRING. Dance Major! Yeosang x Art Major! Reader (afab)

GENRE. enemies to lovers, mutual pining, edgy Yeosang, smut, Dom! Yeosang

WARNINGS. Profanity, NSFW, bullying themes, unprotected sex (wrap ya willy!), penetrative sex, fingering, oral (giving) semi public sex (?)

if you wanna be added to my tag list lmk! :) <3

Reqs are open!

Ever since freshman orientation, you remembered that one man’s stupid fucking face

Kang Yeosang

He was one of the most talented dancers to enter the university's program, being consistently scouted and recruited from various labels and companies

Despite this, he never paid attention to any of the offers he received

He would always gloat about how he valued the college experience more than putting himself out there for fame

You couldn't stand him. He was so full of himself.

Sure, you would admit that he was good-looking. Maybe more like exceptionally good-looking, but you would never admit that aloud

He already had the entire student body whipped for him. Not only was he phenomenal at dance but he had a charismatic personality as well

He was a magnet for people, that was for sure

quickly climbing the social hierarchy at the school, and of course, being in a completely different field of study had the two of you barely seeing one another

which was a good thing, you thought

You didn't know what it was, but something about him really bothered you

He always presented himself as a model student, he wouldn’t take anything less than perfect

In addition, he seemed to have no qualms with anyone, including departments outside of dance

He was odd, that was for sure

You swore this kid was some sort of machine from what you heard about him, it seemed too good to be true

And you were right

You have to walk past the dance department to reach your section of the art building

A practice room door is cracked open and you hear someone… punching a wall?

You poked your head in and saw none other than Yeosang slumped against the mirror, head held in his hands

“I fucking hate this goddamn school I hate all these annoying ass dickheads I can’t wait to get the fuck out of here.”

Holy shit.

Mr. Perfect wasn't so perfect anymore

You were lost in your own wave of thoughts until you noticed Yeosang looking directly at you, eyes narrowed to points

“What the fuck do you want?”

He is not having it.

Who does this art nerd think they are? invading his practice room like it's some kind of open house.

“Get the fuck out,” he pulled himself upward and took a few steps toward the door where you stood

Your lips flatten into a tight line. “Sorry, sorry I’m going—,” You pulled yourself away from the door and slammed it shut

Fuck.

He was not happy.

You knew the power he held on campus too

Anxiety hit you like a bus.

What if he told people that you were a creep?? What if he got the art department to turn on you??

You vigorously shook your head, praying that nothing would come from that interaction

boy were you wrong

You swore you never saw this man on campus and now suddenly you see him everywhere??

Wherever you go— the library, dining hall, and in the unfortunately shared building between art and dance — he is always right behind you

It got to a point where you would purposefully show up early or late to places to avoid spotting the all-too-familiar brunette.

That was until he had you cornered in your art room.

“What are you doing here?” You spun around, dropping the brush in your hands and nearly kicking your easel over

“You don’t belong here—“

Yeosang slammed the studio door behind him, rattling your art supplies on the table.

You nearly jumped a foot into the air

“What the fuck!”

He simply folded his arms over his chest and leaned his body against the doorframe.

“I thought it’d do you well to have a taste of your own actions,” He yawned, his gaze followed your movements in an almost predatory manner.

“Are you serious— it was a mistake! I never meant to go into your dumbass dance studio,” you scoffed, returning your focus to the painting in front of you.

As you swiped your brush across the textured canvas, doing your best to avoid the pair of eyes burning into the back of your head, you failed to notice a shadow looming over your figure.

“Hmm, maybe you are talented after all.” Yeosang’s breath fanned across the nape of your neck, tickling your skin softly.

You leaped out of your seat, tripping and nearly knocking everything over in front of you had you not saved yourself on a nearby counter.

“Seriously Yeosang, get out.” You hissed with disdain. “I can’t focus on getting anything done when you’re—“

He advanced toward you, step by step.

You hadn’t realized how close he had gotten to you until your back hit the edge of the counter.

shit

His hands caged you against the table and you felt him tilt his head down toward you

"Hm?" His eyes raked down your body as his head leaned to the side

“Whats wrong artsy?” He wore a shit eating grin displayed across his lips.

“Yeosang Im not playing around right now I need to—!”

You were cut short as his lips crashed against yours. His hands moved from the counter to your waist, pulling you impossibly closer to him.

You found yourself frozen, before you melted into his touch.

What has gotten into you?

He pulled away for a split second to take a breath, his gaze resting on your lips.

“I didn’t take you as a rule breaker,” He chuckled lowly, his hand traveling to the side of your waist.

You hated to admit it, but something inside of you was actually enjoying this.

A dance and art student?? getting together?? never heard of.

Let alone in the middle of an art studio.

“Yeo—“

His hands gripped your sides and he lifted you onto the counter, boxing you in with his arms.

“Hmm?” He looked up at you, his eyes flashing with mischief.

“We’re in an art atudio,” you hesitated, shifting your weight around.

“And?” He leaned forward, causing you to lean backward on your hands.

“I— Isn’t this a little much?” Your eyes darted around the room, inspecting the entrances and windows.

“Not if we make this quick,” Yeosang grins up at you.

His hands make their way down to the waistband of your bottoms. His eyes meet yours, waiting for any hesitation or uncertainty.

“Y—You can.” You managed to sputter out, turning away from his gaze.

Despite looking away you could practically feel him smirking.

His fingers dipped up under your shirt, the tips of his fingers grazing over your waist before dipping down and hooking onto your waistband.

You lift yourself up slightly, allowing him to better remove the article of clothing.

“That’s my girl,” he cooed, slipping your bottoms off your ankles before tossing it aside.

“Yeo,” you whispered in a hushed tone, squeezing your fists beside you.

What a tease.

His fingers travel down your stomach to the innermost part of your thighs, tracing delicate patterns along your skin.

You whined in response, tensing your legs together as if to create some sort of friction.

His hands continue kneading your thighs until you feel a finger graze your slit.

You let out a soft moan in response, eliciting a pleased hum from Yeosang.

He teases your entrance, spreading your arousal around before plunging a finger inside of you.

You let out a soft moan, “Yeo—“

Your voice catches in your throat when he starts pumping in and out of you, curling his finger upward with his movements.

Your hands fly to grip the table beneath you and you stifled the sounds that threatened to escape past your lips.

He slips a second finger inside you, his movements quickening with each stroke.

He grins up toward you, a seemingly sweet face in contrast to what his hands were doing to you.

“You’re gonna have to be quiet if you don’t wanna get caught,” he leaned over you before sliding his fingers out of you and guiding you off the counter.

His hand caressed the side of your face before he began to lower the waist band of his pants.

You slowly sunk to your knees, your hands over taking his to lower his pants down beneath his hips.

All that was left was his boxers, and you could practically see the outline of his hard on

Your fingers hooked into the waistband of his boxers before sliding them down his thighs

Holy fuck

You wrap your fingers around his length, stroking him a few times before you engulf him with your lips

He lets out a low groan of satisfaction, his hand traveling down to cup your cheek

You began bobbing your head down his length, and Yeosang’s head lulled back

“You’re doing so well for me,” he whispered, looking down at you to meet your gaze.

Your eyes met his as you kept up with your pace

Yeosang fisted your hair, guiding your head down his length when a sharp knock to the door alerted you both

You pulled away from him immediately, scrambling backward to put distance between the two of you

The door handle jiggled, and to your relief it had been locked

Yeosang chuckled silently, his gaze shifting from the door back to your form on the floor

“What, did you think I’d be so careless?”

“Now, let’s get back to where we left off.”

[rainbowmoonstonestories]

Let Your Dreams Be Your Wings | Chapter 24

Chapters: 24/? Fandom: The Sandman (Netflix 2022, minor content from the Comics) Rating: Explicit Relationships Dream of the Endless/Morpheus x F!Reader  Characters: Dream of the Endless/Morpheus, Lucienne, Matthew the Raven, Mervyn Pumpkinhead, Hob Gadling, Death, Rose Walker, The Corinthian, other minor Sandman characters, Original Characters. Warnings: 18+ content (minors DNI), explicit sexual content, POV switching, very long chapters to read. Summary: You always dreamed of becoming a successful Fashion Designer, sharing your creations with the world and making your father proud. But with him being very ill and so many costs solely weighting on your shoulders, things didn’t go as planned and you had to take a different path instead. An interesting offer led you to the elder Alex Burgess and you were hired as a new housemaid for a very good pay. However, your kindness and outstanding empathy convinced the man to give you an additional task for a doubled compensation; gaining the trust of Dream Of the Endless, held captive into the basement for over a century. Despite the shock of finding such an ethereal entity stripped of all his clothes and contained into a confined space, you had to accept for the sake of your father. But the more you got to speak to the mysterious anthropomorphic personification who didn’t utter a single word, the more you were lost into his eyes that, conversely, seemed to contain the entire universe. A deep connection formed between the two of you, separated only by a thick layer of glass.

Little did you know, what started like a simple housemaid job was about to change your life forever.

Credits: The moon dividers were made by firefly-graphics

Tagging: @number-0-iz, @emarich7, @jaziona92, @bridkesby If anyone else wants to be tagged in the next updates, let me know.

You can also read this on AO3 if you feel more comfortable!

Author's note: This chapter was at risk of becoming too long, so I had to move some things to the next one. While I'm not sure how many updates this story will have, I still got quite a bit to include. I'm also keeping my fingers crossed that the second season will be released before summer. I need to know if they'll establish a clear timeline between the end of S1 and the beginning of the second season, as some of my planned finale content might not align with the canon. I know this isn't a major issue since my story is fanfiction, but I tend to be rather picky about these details.

Now, this chapter contains several significant developments. Though our dramatic duo won't reconcile just yet, I promise their reunion will happen in the next chapter.

Additionally, I've finally started upgrading the earlier chapters with a complete rewrite. I've updated chapters 1 through 6 so far, and I'm currently working on chapter 7. While they remain basically the same, I've made some noteworthy improvements and additions (particularly in chapter 6).

The absence of Morpheus was a never-ending test of endurance, as your enigmatic dreams continued to manifest. Subsequently, Morpheus received a visitation from a most improbable guest.

You observed the kitchen sink intently, where water droplets fell in a steady rhythm from the faucet, their sound reverberating through the empty house. 

With Hob out on a brief excursion to retrieve the morning paper, you found yourself in solitude, accompanied only by the tumultuous thoughts that occupied your mind. The haunting remnants of your dream left you in a state of deep contemplation, wrestling with a myriad of uncertainties and deep-seated apprehensions. 

Additionally, the peculiar incident where Hob discovered you surrounded by glowing light during your sleep further compounded the mysteries already presented by the Book of Paradoxes. According to his description, an ethereal luminescence emanated from your skin, manifesting as luminous filaments that extended throughout the room—mirroring what previously transpired in the Dreaming realm. If there was merit to Lucienne's disclosure, perhaps this inexplicable phenomenon was intrinsically linked to the living being you were supposedly carrying within you.

Your mind reeled at the implications. Could you really be pregnant with Morpheus' child? You—expecting, of all things? Although the prospect of starting a family had been a distant consideration for your future, the immediate reality of potential parenthood had never been a pressing concern.

The realization that you had failed to consider such consequences during your time in his realm filled you with regret and disbelief. How could you reconcile this development with your assurances of taking precautions and the understanding that your relationship with the Endless had been suspended indefinitely?

Upon checking your calendar, you noticed your menstrual cycle was delayed by approximately a week from its expected date. Accessing your phone, you conducted a search for pregnancy symptoms, methodically reviewing the results which merely confirmed the information you had already acquired on your own: nausea and vomiting, general morning sickness, persistent tiredness, headaches, indigestion, emotional fluctuations, dyspnea, and abdominal distension. The list was extensive, but you were a match for all of these primary descriptions with certainty. 

With a weary exhale, you set aside your phone and reclined in the chair, finding yourself at a critical juncture with no clear direction forward. While this revelation provided some relief regarding your concerns about more severe medical conditions, the prospect of caring for another life during such a tumultuous period raised valid fears about your preparedness.

The absence of the child’s father from your life, combined with your own motherless upbringing, left you without any guidance or example to follow. How could you discuss this matter with Morpheus, particularly given his current unresponsiveness and ongoing emotional turmoil regarding the Orpheus situation? The last thing you wanted was to evoke painful memories of his previous paternal experience.

Furthermore, you couldn't exactly shout "Yo Morpheus, I'm pregnant!" into the vast expanse of the Dreaming, with the high chance of him not hearing you through the self-imposed isolation and withdrawal.

The sound of keys in the lock disrupted your reverie as Hob returned, carrying a newspaper and a bag of groceries. "Good morning! Thought you'd still be asleep," he greeted cheerfully.

You shook your head and smiled. “I've been awake for at least an hour."

"Are you holding up all right? You know... after that peculiar business last night?"

"I'm fine. Still a bit nauseous, but that's nothing new. What did you get there?"

Setting the bag and newspaper onto the table, he replied, "I wasn't sure what your stomach could handle today, so I picked up a few bits that might help settle things down."

“Oh?”

"Unsweetened almond milk for breakfast, some cucumbers, couple of apples, avocados, and a nice bit of fresh salmon. How does that sound, Shortcake? Are you in the mood for any of that?"

You chuckled, touched by his thoughtful consideration yet slightly embarrassed by the unusual attention. "Thank you, Hob. They all sound wonderful. The almond milk seems perfect right now."

"Right then! Let me sort that out for you. Don't you move a muscle."

While the presence of another person in your living space felt somewhat unfamiliar, you were grateful for your friend's steadying influence during this difficult and uncertain time. You watched quietly as he prepared the table, warming the milk and deliberately foregoing his usual coffee preparation. The aversion to its scent had become quite pronounced since your last visit to the New Inn, compelling you to abandon what had once been an essential part of your daily work routine.

Taking a seat beside you, he gently blew across his steaming tea while you cradled the warm cup of almond milk between your hands. "I'm sorry about the fright I gave you, by the way," you murmured. "If I were in your position, I would have panicked at least twice as much as you did."

"Really, what in the bloody hell was that anyway?" He inquired. “I mean, don't get me wrong, I've seen some strange things in my time, but nothing similar. I get up for a bit of water, and I see this light coming from your room; thought you might be up reading or something.”

"I know, it sounds absolutely wild even just hearing about it."

“You were glowing like some sort of celestial being, Y/N. Proper freaked me out, that did. I thought you were going to blow up on me!"

You took a sip of milk, feeling the nausea subside slightly. "And yet, you still came in to check on me—even touched me without knowing what might happen."

"Are you crazy? Of course I couldn't leave you like that. Besides, I'm immortal, aren't I? Not that it matters, I would've done it either way.”

"I truly appreciate that, Hob."

He sighed. "Don't mention it, sweetheart. But I am rather curious what all that glowing was coming from, if you don't mind sharing?"

You paused, setting the cup down. "I really don't know for certain what caused that."

"So this is something new then?"

"I've never turned into a human torch before, I can assure you that."

Upon closer examination, the occurance seemed to defy conventional logic. While such events might be expected within the realm of dreams, their manifestation in the Waking World was unheard of. If this wasn't attributed to an autonomous activation of the Dreamstone, there remained only one plausible explanation.

“But… I may have a theory,” you said. “Just a hunch."

"You do?" Hob's eyebrows rose. "Well then, let’s hear it."

You took a deep breath, gathering your composure before attempting to vocalize your suspicions, though your voice trembled with uncertainty. "Hob, I… I think I'm pregnant."

A profound silence descended as Hob's demeanor shifted to one of utmost gravity, his gaze fixed and intense, the teacup frozen mid-motion in his grasp.

After a moment of deliberation, he adjusted his posture. "About that. Been meaning to bring it up myself, actually. I am not exactly shocked, if I'm being honest."

"What? You suspected?"

"I've been a father before, remember?" he replied with a gentle grin. "Different era, mind you, but I've been around long enough to recognize the telltale signs when they're right in front of me."

"Well, with your centuries of experience, I suppose I shouldn't be surprised," you said with a wry smile. "Why didn't you mention it earlier?"

"Look, I may have been a right bastard back in my day, a proper rogue and scoundrel if you will, but I do try to be a decent man these days. It wouldn't have been right for me to bring it up first, would it? I Figured you'd sort it out eventually."

You released a short laugh. "You have no idea how worried I've been. I'd even imagined the worst-case scenarios."

"Wait, you weren't considering the possibility of inheriting your father's medical condition, were you?"

“Uhm, yes?”

"Christ," he slumped. "You mean to tell me you never once thought this might happen? Not that I want all the details of what you and my old mate got up to, but... really?"

"I thought that would be impossible. You know I've been on birth control for years," you said with a frown.

"What's gone wrong here, then? Your little tablets decided to take a holiday?"

Ironically, it was you who unintentionally took a break from them. And in retrospect, you questioned whether conventional contraceptive methods would maintain their efficacy when involving an entity as extraordinary as Morpheus.

You snorted. "The thing is, I don’t even know what to do now."

"I'm guessing he doesn't know yet, eh?"

"No, I don't even have confirmation myself."

Taking another sip of almond milk, you felt tears beginning to well up in your eyes.

‘Oh, not again.’

“Y/N….”

"I'm just terrified, Hob," you confessed. "We've broken up, and we haven't exchanged a single word in days. If I'm truly pregnant, how can I possibly handle everything all at once?"

"Well now, let's take this one step at a time," he replied, reaching out and resting his hand gently on your wrist. "You've got me, all right? Whatever you need, I'm here. Just tell me what to do and I'll make it happen."

You wiped away your tears before they could fall. "I suppose I should probably get a pregnancy test to confirm it, at least."

"Shall we venture forth to the apothecary today?"

You nodded. "Would you mind going with me right after breakfast? I just want to face this head-on."

With a reassuring squeeze of your hand and a knowing glance, Hob said, "You don't even have to ask, Shortcake. I've got your back."

The remainder of the morning passed in silence as you both finished your beverages, while the weight of the forthcoming confirmation loomed over you, prompting careful reflections of the many potential directions that lay ahead.

Regardless of the circumstances, your thoughts invariably returned to one consuming reality: the excruciating void procured by the man you loved, who had retreated into voluntary seclusion, creating an insurmountable distance between you.

At the pharmacy counter, you purchased three pregnancy tests for a higher percentage, waiting for the bill to be printed as the clerk's well-intentioned but misplaced enthusiasm suggested she had mistaken you and Hob for a couple. Any unnecessary commentary was discouraged by your withering glare, since you weren't in any mood for any sort of celebration. Hob, meanwhile, managed to stay perfectly composed yet amused throughout the exchange.

The designated waiting span indicated by your phone's timer stretched into infinity. With Hob waiting patiently in the living room, you retreated to the bathroom and carefully opened the first test. Though tempted to use all three packages simultaneously, you followed the recommended protocol of spacing them apart at different intervals. While the first test should provide 98% accuracy, you knew this was merely a formality given the unusual situation you were in. After all, it seemed unlikely that the Dreaming would detect a heartbeat in your body only to dismiss it as a mistake.

Perched nervously on the toilet, you watched the numbers tick by with mounting anxiety, finding it impossible to remain seated. Eventually, you rose and traversed the small space, fidgeting anxiously and alternating between wringing your hands and drumming your nails against the sink's edge. Your attempts at deep breathing only served to heighten your racing pulse, forcing you to surrender to the inevitable wait.

Finally, the timer ran out, signaling the countdown reaching zero with a soft alarm that you immediately switched off, nearly dropping your phone in the process. You were breathing heavily, your fingers trembling, as the test stick lay in front of you. With a pounding heart, you carefully lifted it to inspect the verdict, staring at it through tear-filled eyes. The instructions were clear: a positive result would be indicated by two lines appearing in the test display, while a single line would signify a negative result.

Your test was showing two clear red lines, leaving no room for doubt.

Immobilized by the (unsurprising) confirmation, you gazed at your reflection, tears silently streaming down your face as the full magnitude of these newfound complications settled upon you - complications that seemed particularly daunting to face on your own. The crushing realization that you would be embarking on this journey without Morpheus by your side proved to be the breaking point that finally shattered the last bit of strength holding you together. 

When you returned to the living room with heavy steps, Hob immediately sat up straight. "Well? Did you do it?"

“I did.”

"What's it say then?"

One look at your face told him everything he needed to know, with mascara smudges beneath your eyes.

"Oh… Christ. I want to say congrats and all that, but..."

Without a word, you lowered yourself onto the couch beside him and placed the pregnancy test on the coffee table, where the dual crimson indicators provided irrefutable evidence.

"What's the plan? What're you gonna do about all this?"

"I don't know, Hob," you said weakly. "This feels completely surreal. How am I supposed to be a mother?"

"If anyone can handle this, it's you. You're gonna be a brilliant mum, I've no doubt about that."

"Thank you, but I'm not convinced."

"You've got to tell him, yeah? No way around it."

You crossed your arms and sank deeper into the couch. "Yes, I know. And I will. It's just... I need some time to process this myself."

“That is understandable.”

"Still, would it really change anything in the end?"

He frowned. "What, you think he won't accept the little one? Come off it."

"It's not that exactly. Think about it; he left me because he was convinced his presence in my life would condemn me to ruin. What if he believes the same about our child? He might decide to watch us only from a distance, letting me raise the baby alone. All for 'our own good.'"

Hob's eyes darted uneasily. "And repeat the story of your childhood..."

"Exactly… only in reverse."

He exhaled, placing a gentle hand on your back. "Y/N, if the baby made you glow like a beacon last night, it means they've got some of their father's magic in them, right?"

“…I guess…?”

"Then it looks like they’re gonna need you both around."

You rubbed your temples, feeling a headache beginning to form. "Maybe. I can't think clearly right now."

"Just take it easy, yeah? It’s not like you're popping out the little one tomorrow."

You smiled. "Well, wouldn't be the first time I've seen something like that happen."

"Okay, I’d rather not know the details of that one, either."

With a faint laugh, you sought comfort against Hob's shoulder as a gesture of familial trust. "If you want to avoid a headache yourself, then yes, it's probably best you don't know."

As he entered the chamber he had crafted for you, Morpheus was immediately enveloped by memories of your smile. The space resonated with echoes of your laughter, while your essence seemed to suffuse the very atmosphere around him. His attention was drawn to your nightgown, gracefully arranged upon the mattress, like a ghostly reminder of the woman he loved. The garment's embellishments created an enchanting display, as countless glittering points of light pulsed across the obsidian fabric resembling a constellation of stars.

With measured steps, he approached the bed and sat down, taking the nightgown in his hands. He lifted it to his face, breathing in your scent as his eyes drifted closed. His longing for you was profound and all-encompassing; the melodic sound of your voice, your delicate touch, and your unique ability to see beyond his immortal nature and love him for all he represented, embracing every facet of his intricate being. He yearned for you with the aching emptiness of a moonless night.

Gently placing the garment down, his fingertips lingering on the delicate fabric, Morpheus rose and made his way to the balcony, where heavy rain cascaded from the darkened sky. He allowed the torrential water to fall over him, the fierce droplets striking his form with relentless intensity. Within moments, he was soaked through, his dark hair plastered against his forehead.

As his hands rested on the cold balustrade, an intense wave of sorrow pierced through his heart. He wished he could hold every fiber of you—your heart, your body, your spirit. He needed your inner strength as much as he craved the tender sight of color rising to your cheeks. 

He wished for all of it, yet could possess none.

His love for you simultaneously elevated him to euphoric heights while subjecting him to the deepest depths of despair. Nevertheless, if presented with the opportunity to alter the course of his existence and rewrite your story, he would invariably choose the path that led him to you.

The Book of Paradoxes now resided in a remote section of the library, obscured in shadows. Despite exhaustive consultation of its contents, Morpheus had come to accept the finality of his decision while awaiting what fate might bring.

He stood motionless on the balcony, his countenance downcast, while rivulets of rain intermingled with his silent tears, descending in parallel streams down his face.

Another week had passed, yet accepting the discovery of your pregnancy remained an undeniable daily struggle. In order to be thorough, you methodically completed all three tests over the following days, with both additional sticks confirming the initial positive result.

In the Waking World, only Hob was privy to this information, as you had not yet mustered the resolve to share the news with your father or Ella during your regular communications. To maintain privacy, you had cited stress-related health concerns as a reason for your absence, while Hob had extended his leave from teaching duties by claiming a family emergency.

Your experiences in the Dreaming had become erratic, alternating between moments of vivid clarity and hazy visions that primarily conjured fragments of memories or apparitions of your anxieties. Despite your diligent search throughout the realm, Morpheus was still conspicuously elusive. His prolonged disappearance increased your sense of loss, creating an ever-growing emptiness in your existence.

Despite the adage that time heals all wounds, your suffering appeared to be escalating rather than diminishing.

"So, what're those rocks you've got there then?" Hob inquired, glancing up from his laptop to examine the array of crystals and beads arranged on the table before you.

You smiled, absorbed in crafting bespoke jewelry pieces using simple, straightforward techniques that didn't need any specialized welding or soldering tools. "What? The all-knowing Robert Gadling can't recognize these stones?"

"Not like I've had much time for those in my centuries kickin' about.”

"Fair enough," you replied, picking up a drilled, faceted milky crystal. "This is white jade. And here's some rare lepidolite," you continued, holding up a purple piece with silvery sheens. "Plus a variety of high-quality quartz, moonstone, agate, and malachite. Then—"

"Slow down, love, you've lost me there. But looks like quite the fancy selection you've got, I'll give you that."

You smiled, threading beads one by one onto a thin steel wire. "Thanks. My friend at work wanted something unique, crafted from scratch, rather than just reselling wholesale items like most small businesses do."

"Right, all that mass-produced rubbish you see everywhere these days."

You shrugged. "I wouldn't call it rubbish, actually. Most items are good quality. They just lack uniqueness—though that's partly why they become viral, since they follow trends."

He typed a few more lines into his document. "I don't know much about fashion if I'm being honest. But I've got to ask; are these sparkly little things actually selling? Just, you know, wondering if people are actually buying these lovely bits."

"I get it. I was skeptical at first too. Clothes are one thing, but would people really pay extra for unique accessories when they could just buy the trendy jewelry that all the influencers are wearing?"

You paused, concentrating on threading the wire through a tiny bead opening. "But we've been getting lots of requests for that through our emails and social media. It wouldn't make sense to stock common items when everything else we make is completely original."

"If these look half as good as what you've got on now, your customers are gonna be right chuffed with them."

Your eyes lit up. "Really? You like them?"

"Look, I may not know jack, but I'll tell you what, they're absolutely you. Not too fancy, not too simple either. They really make your whole outfit pop with those vibrant colors and sparkles catching the light."

Your jewelry collection had expanded significantly in recent weeks, featuring an array of sophisticated pieces, from professionally crafted metalwork with fine-quality stone settings to delicate beaded accessories that you had assembled yourself. Thanks to Ella and Oliver's strategic sourcing partnerships, you had access to premium materials, including exceptional quality crystals and precision-engineered metals.

The creative process of designing and crafting these creations provided a calming and restorative outlet, drawing inspiration from both the ethereal realm of the Dreaming and the artistic influence that Morpheus had imparted. The ensemble incorporated natural elements that evoked celestial imagery, featuring gemstones and beads in a sophisticated palette including deep oceanic blues and rich forest greens. The decorative charms included an eclectic array of motifs, resembling mythical creatures and symbols that echoed the enchanting essence of your dreams.

Following Morpheus' departure, you had removed the golden bangle he had given you, returning it to safekeeping within the memory box. The Moonflower contained inside, originally enchanted for eternal bloom, had begun to deteriorate and wilt—a reflection of your deepening melancholy and the current state of the Dreaming itself.

The Dreamstone persisted as an essential adornment, however, its presence around your neck seamlessly complementing the rest of your current stack.

"You may not know much about fashion, but you definitely have a good eye," you said, clearing your throat.

"You've got a real talent for this. So tell me straight up; how's the project actually going?"

"It's going so much better than I expected. The response has been amazing, and Corbyn&Jones' established reputation definitely helped. Just a few photos were enough to make our follower count skyrocket."

"Well, it's not really the photos, but more like the subject," he clarified with a wink.

"Oh, I wasn't the only one photographed wearing these. Ella knows several genuine influencers who received prototypes to showcase."

"As the brand's creative director and lead designer, you've become the face of Corbyn&Jones, Shortcake. Your dedication has made the show a tremendous success, and you've created a lasting impression that resonates with your audience far more than any typical influencer campaign."

With a composed gesture, you adjusted a wayward strand of hair, blushing quietly at the compliment.

"You're a proper dream weaver, my dear."

Dream…

Shaking your head, you let out a shaky breath. "There's only one being who can do that, Hob. I deal more with the material world."

Hob fell silent, immediately recognizing his unintentional insensitivity and the emotional anguish his words had caused.

"Ah, shit. I've gone and put my foot in it, haven't I?"

“No, don't worry. I know what you meant.”

With determination, Hob closed his laptop. “That's enough of that now. You’ve been hunched over those trinkets for hours. Can't have you breaking your back, can we?"

“I’m not that tired though.”

"Right then, I'm off to the shops to get us some good treats. How about we have ourselves a proper pajama party with some ridiculous films?"

You tittered. "Hob, that's basically what we do every day."

"Who cares? It's good fun. And you need to get your mind off all this dreary business. Come on now, pack those bits away, put the kettle on, and I'll be back before you know it."

You acquiesced with a gentle smile, acknowledging the futility of debating with his determined spirit.

Shortly thereafter, Hob headed out the door, leaving you alone with your troubled mind again. As another wave of sickness hit, your hand instinctively found its way to your abdomen, gently rubbing it in circles as if to address the tiny life inside you.

"Come on, little one," you said with a smile. "Won't you give your mum a moment's peace?"

For a moment, you envisioned your future as a mother, visualizing the delicate balance between raising a child and traversing the Dreaming realm. In your mind's eye, you pictured yourself cradling your precious infant while seated in your chambers within Morpheus's domain, the King of Dreams standing beside you. The daydream crystallized as you imagined him holding the baby, his face adorned with that subtle, enchanting smile you cherished so deeply.

The idyllic vision dissolved, replaced by the prospect of facing parenthood in solitude.

"Morpheus..." you sobbed, collapsing into yourself. "Morpheus! Please come back. Please!"

Though your heart felt shattered and your spirit weary, your love burned eternal. Despite the daily torrent of tears, your resolve stood unshaken, particularly given that Morpheus had unknowingly gifted you with a child of magic.

The pain was tremendous and all-consuming, threatening to tear you apart from within, devouring every atom of your being.

"Hob, are you serious?" you asked, examining the facial treatment masks he had selected from the store.

"They were on sale! And besides, aloe's good for your skin."

"Okay, but... of all the things I expected you to buy, these weren't on the list."

"I got you some proper snacks too! And don't worry your pretty little head, they're all healthy," he announced, unpacking his haul from the grocery bags. "Got these almonds here for protein, magnesium, and good calcium for the bones.”

You observed with appreciation as he placed the substantial package of almonds on the table.

“And some proper dark chocolate; keeps the doctor away. Or so they say these days."

"You know that saying is for apples, not chocolate, you goof!"

"Dark chocolate's got antioxidant that boost your immune system! I was around when they made these bars."

"All right, all right. Thank you for being so thoughtful."

His expression radiated genuine warmth and affection. "Anything for my pregnant bestie. Besides, if I don't keep a proper eye on what you're eating, he'll have my head for it."

"Well, he's not here anyway. So what's the plan tonight? Snacks, beauty masks, and movies? What should we watch?"

Noting your swift deflection of the topic, Hob tactfully redirected his attention to the evening's preparations. He made his way to the couch with two bowls in his hands, one filled with almonds and another containing cheese and bacon-flavored chips.

The aroma combination wasn't particularly appealing to your sensitive pregnancy nose, but you couldn't bring yourself to mention it.

"Since we both fancy the oldies, we can't go wrong with a proper classic like this one."

You gaped at the VHS he pulled from his bag. "’Who Framed Roger Rabbit’? Oh my goodness, I haven't watched that in ages!"

"Right, let's slap these masks on our faces and settle in for a proper rewatch!"

With practiced efficiency, you examined the package while Hob mirrored your actions, both of you reviewing the application guidelines.

"So, these fancy things need to stay on for just 30 minutes, yeah? Any longer and they'll dry up like a raisin."

"I don't think I could wear it for very long anyway," you remarked. "My skin would probably start to itch."

While applying the facial mask, which transformed his appearance into something both comical and terrifying, he proceeded to load the VHS tape into the player. "And we don't want to muck up that lovely face of yours, now do we? Come on then, let's get comfy."

Once your own mask settled into place, a cool, refreshing feeling spread across your cheeks, nose, and forehead. "Please don't tell me you're going to drool over Jessica Rabbit."

"Oh no. She's fit and all that, but not exactly what I'm after."

You laughed, bumping his shoulder with yours. "Good. She's such a stereotype I can't stand her. And besides, she married a rabbit! How bizarre is that?"

"It's just a cartoon. Well, half cartoon, half real world madness, but you know what I mean."

"Yes, and it's still weird. She's got quite the singing voice though. And the animation is absolutely top-notch."

He awkwardly maneuvered a chip into his mouth through the hole in the face mask. “What can I say. The old stuff is of a higher level.”

"I agree. There was a special kind of magic in the 80s and 90s that's hard to capture these days."

"Indeed. Out of all the centuries I've lived through, those decades were something special, weren't they? Proper good times, if you ask me."

You carefully managed to eat an almond without hitting the fabric of your mask. "Tell me, how accurate are medieval movies?"

"Well, most of it's absolute crap. I mean yeah, they get some stuff right, but the amount of nonsense they put in there really makes me laugh. They are proper creative with their 'historical facts'."

You chuckled. "They should hire you as their consultant. I'm sure movies and TV shows would be much more accurate. Not that I mind fantasy."

"Well, I'm immortal, aren't I? Makes me a bit of a fantastical creature myself."

You turned your head, staring at his face covered in the beauty mask, and couldn't contain your snort. "Yes, but right now you look more like a strange one with that thing plastered on your face."

With an amused expression, he retrieved his mobile device from his pocket. "We've got to capture this moment for posterity. Come here, budge up closer."

"Oh no, don't you dare take a picture of me."

"Come on! I swear on my eternal life I'll keep this picture safe and sound."

With a resigned sigh, you gave in as he placed a companionable arm around your shoulders. "Well, I suppose resistance is futile anyway."

"It ain't that bad now, right? Give me a proper smile!"

Against the backdrop of the movie's animated sound effects, you both smiled for the camera, creating a charming snapshot that perfectly captured your friendship despite the absurd appearance of your face masks.

"Ah, brilliant. We look proper ridiculous, don't we?"

"Absolutely ridiculous," you agreed with a laugh.

After putting his phone away, Hob kept his arm around you, gently squeezing your shoulder in a way that brought solace and warmth. You sank into the friendly embrace as you both enjoyed your snacks, sharing lighthearted commentary about the movie between removing your face masks.

As the film reached its climactic confrontation between the protagonists and villain, your consciousness began to fade as fatigue overtook you. The characters' voices grew distant, blending into an indistinct murmuring.

"Y/N?" Hob called you softly, uncertain whether you were still awake or already surrendered to sleep.

Drowsily content, you said, "Yes…?"

"I know it's not my place to ask, but... you're keeping the baby, yeah?"

Since discovering your pregnancy, you hadn't formally considered all your options. Even if Morpheus persisted with his decision to stay away, whether out of his own conviction or as a misguided attempt at protection, you would have been justified in questioning the difficulties of single motherhood.

And yet, in both your mind and heart, you felt absolutely no uncertainty.

Taking a deep breath to steady your emotions, you gave him your definitive answer. “Yes, Hob. I am.”

You couldn't pinpoint exactly when you had arrived at the library. Standing amidst the towering shelves, you found yourself examining the books before you with unfocused eyes, slowly regaining clarity. It seemed you had wandered through the maze-like corridors for quite a while, having lost track of both time and location.

As you continued your exploration, Lucienne's familiar voice resonated through the distant halls. Moving methodically through the corridors, you traced your fingertips along the shelves for orientation, when suddenly a faint, ghostly whisper echoed your name through the stacks.

"ʸ/ᴺ...”

Turning around, you surveyed the surroundings but detected no discernible presence. After a momentary pause, during which only the ambient sounds of the library persisted, you proceeded forward, allowing intuition to guide you through a winding aisle.

Then that mysterious voice spoke again through the silence.

"ʸ/ᴺ.”

It was both alluring and unsettling, a dissonant element that seemed to defy the natural order of the library and the castle itself. Its unsettling quality felt paradoxical, fundamentally foreign to the familiar ambiance of the Dreaming.

“…Y/N…?”

Startled, you pivoted abruptly as Lucienne appeared before you.

"Oh, there you are! I was certain I heard footsteps echoing through these halls."

"Lucienne, hello.”

"Are you all right? You look as if you've just encountered a ghost," she jested with a smile. 

Your eyes drifted away with disquiet. "No, I... I thought I heard..." You dismissed the concern with a slight gesture. "Nevermind."

"I have some new volumes that need cataloguing, would you care to keep me company while I work?" she asked warmly, her accent carrying a gentle composure.

“Of course.”

"Splendid. Follow me, if you please."

As Lucienne navigated the corridors with practiced ease, you placed a hand on your abdomen and continued the discussion. "By the way, I've looked through those 'appropriate channels' you mentioned, and... you were right."

"About that... I do apologize that you had to learn it from me in such a manner. And Matthew..." She adjusted her glasses with a slight frown. "Well, he really ought to learn when to hold his tongue."

You shook your head. "No, that was actually a good thing. You see, I thought this kind of situation wasn't even possible. I'd been feeling absolutely dreadful for so long that I was starting to worry I had some sort of disease."

“Oh?"

You fell quiet momentarily before responding. "It's part of my family history, something I'd rather leave in the past. But as positive as this might be… well. There are definitely some complications to deal with."

Lucienne decreased her pace before coming to a complete halt. "I haven't mentioned your condition to Lord Morpheus yet. But I strongly advise you tell him yourself, and soon. Trust me, it would be better coming from you than if he discovers it through other means."

"But Luce, how can I possibly tell him when he won't even answer my calls?"

"You've tried to call him? And he's ignored your summons…?"

"Did you think he would still speak to me after ending things?"

"No, but I did hope he would at least maintain some basic courtesy towards you."

"Seriously, I don't know what to do. I want to speak with him about this, but I'm afraid his stubbornness about that book is clouding everything else. He has completely shut me out—I can't find any way to reach him."

Lucienne's expression grew contemplative as she gestured for you to continue walking. "I must confess, I've thoroughly searched every corner of my library for that particular volume, yet I couldn’t find it. This rather strongly suggests that His Lordship still has it in his possession."

"And... is that a good sign?"

"I don’t know. He might still be poring over those prophecies, trying to make sense of them. But whenever I attempt to discuss it, he's rather tight-lipped about the whole thing. He barely even comes to the library anymore, which is quite telling in itself."

When you arrived at her main desk, you gracefully seated yourself in one of the available chairs. "In other words, we're right back where we started."

"I wish I had better news for you, truly I do," she replied with a gentle sigh.

"It's not your fault. You're doing the best you can, I know this isn't easy."

"I will persist in my search," she assured. "And mark my words, he cannot maintain this silence indefinitely."

"Luce, I know I'm asking a lot, but could you please keep the news about the baby to yourself just a while longer?"

"Of course. But you must understand, such things have a way of making themselves known, whether we wish them to or not. Particularly in this realm, with Lord Morpheus himself being so attuned to every aspect of his domain."

Your hand returned to your abdomen, as if to soothe the developing life contained inside. "I know. I'll keep trying to reach him for as long as I can. If he continues to avoid me, then... I'd prefer he learns it from someone he trusts, like yourself."

At your protective motion, Lucienne smiled warmly. "This new life will be a blessing to the Dreaming. I do hope we can sort all this out soon enough."

Clutching the fabric of your nightgown, you released a heavy exhale. “Me too Lucienne. It’s all I really wish for right now.”

The throne room was bathed in its usual muted hues, the cold stillness of the Dreaming's heart mirroring Morpheus' own desolation as a neverending storm raged outside. He stood by one of the tall windows, his figure silhouetted against the vast expanse of stars—now hidden behind a weeping sky. His hands were clasped tightly before him, the sole visible sign of the tempest that raged within.

A faint rustling broke the silence as Astra stepped cautiously into the room. The creature moved with a graceful hesitance, its shimmering fur catching the dim light.

"My Lord," he spoke softly, his voice clear yet tinged with concern. "May I interrupt?"

Morpheus did not turn, his voice low and sharp. "I wish to be alone."

The creature did not retreat. Instead, Astra stepped closer, his hooves making only the faintest patter against the floor. "Forgive my intrusion, but I cannot ignore what’s happening here.”

"Astra," Morpheus said, cold with warning. "I did not request your presence."

"I know, and I apologize for intruding, but... she needs you, sir. Are you going to abandon her in such a state?"

The faintest twitch of his jaw betrayed Morpheus’ struggle, though Astra couldn’t see it. "My decision stands. I will not waver from this path. Nor do I desire to discuss this matter further."

"But is this path truly the right one?" Astra pressed gently. "You have read the book, yes, but have you truly understood it? Where you see endings, there might be beginnings. What frightens you so deeply, My Lord? Why do you choose to give up?"

Morpheus' shoulders stiffened, his tone dropping into a dangerous growl. "You dare presume to understand my fears?"

"Well... I know you fear for her," Astra replied. "You believe you'll bring her ruin. Yet have you considered that your absence might do the same? That she may not survive without you?"

Morpheus finally turned, his eyes blazing with a fury seldom witnessed. His words fell like ice, cutting enough to pierce even the boldest of hearts. "You are but a dream, which I have created. It is not within your authority to pass judgment upon my actions. This is far beyond your role."

"Yet it is precisely because you created me—and your purpose in doing so—that I am able to see beyond the surface."

“Enough. You forget your place. Now go, before my patience wanes entirely."

Astra flinched and lowered his head, his starry dark eyes clouding with sadness. "If that is your wish, My Lord, I shall take my leave."

He turned gracefully on his hooves, moving with heavy, reluctant steps toward the doorway. At the threshold, he paused, glancing back over his shoulder. "You may dismiss me, but the truth will not be so easily silenced. You know where you belong, Lord Morpheus. I pray you remember before it's too late."

Morpheus stood like a stern statue, his eyes dark and piercing as splintered glass.

"Moreover, it is because you made me Y/N's familiar that I understand what is eluding you. If you would only speak with her once, you would see it as well."

Morpheus remained still, though his eyebrows drew together in evident confusion.

"But then again, I'm merely a dream. What could I possibly know?"

And with that, Astra disappeared, leaving Morpheus alone in the cold, vast emptiness of the throne room once more. The Endless turned back to the windows, the fading stars outside seeming even more distant, as though reflecting the weight of his torment.

As time progressed, the emotional impact of the situation became devastatingly difficult to bear. While Hob's companionship provided valuable emotional support and a welcome respite, the circumstances remained uniquely impossible to navigate independently.

Despite your efforts, Morpheus was still inaccessible, withdrawn behind an impenetrable barrier of silence. The child developing within you was as much his as it was yours, yet he remained completely unaware of its existence.

Gradually, you returned to work with reduced hours to resume your professional responsibilities and project oversight. Though you kept a composed exterior at the office, the strain on your face could hardly be concealed. Fortunately, Ella and your colleagues weren't informed of the underlying situation, simply attributing your lack of energy to your temporary health concerns.

Admitting that your relationship had fallen apart was not something you wanted to face head-on, especially since, deep down, you still clung to the hope that Morpheus would return to you one day. Hopefully sooner rather than later.

Your dreams had become hollow and devoid of their former vibrancy, as the Dreaming underwent continuous transformation. This ethereal domain, once so familiar and unique, had deteriorated into a mere vestige of its former splendor.

One night, you traversed through the dreamscape, following interweaving paths that ultimately led to the beachland, where the scene crystallized with stark clarity. The once-radiant sky had transformed into a lifeless expanse of pale grey, while below, the sea lay unnaturally still, its darkened surface reflecting the melancholy atmosphere like a vast pool of sorrow.

Approaching the shoreline, you walked across the darkened sand, its texture coarse and chilled beneath your feet. The weakened waves undulated before you, their diminished force reflecting the somber sky, as you gently placed your interlaced hands upon your abdomen.

"Please," you whispered, your voice trembling. "Morpheus... if you can hear me... I need to see you. I have something to tell you."

As expected, only silence answered your plea.

"Morpheus, I implore you."

The Dreamstone pendant offered no connection to its master. His absence suggested either deliberate avoidance or a complete withdrawal from the domain he once meticulously governed.

Resigned, you lowered your hands as tears welled in your eyes. Gazing at the dark sea, you removed your clothing, allowing the garment to cascade down until it pooled at your feet, leaving your bare skin completely exposed to the elements.

Carefully, you waded into the water, its piercing cold making your dream self shiver and hesitate. Yet you pressed on, moving deeper until the dark ocean reached your neck. It was overwhelmingly real, making you feel every ache as strongly as if you were awake. Both physical and emotional.

You waited, searching for any sign of the King of Dreams—for his dark silhouette to materialize on the shore, for his eyes to find yours, for his hand to reach out in invitation. But only emptiness greeted you, on the desolate shore and deep into your soul.

Hugging yourself, you exhaled shakily as a golden spark appeared beneath the water's surface, emanating from your chest. The light expanded, transforming the ocean into an enchanting spectrum of colors, from light to deep blue, through shades of green and violet. A luminous garment shaped against your skin, taking the form of a golden dress that shimmered like a constellation of stars.

As you emerged from the ocean, you appeared completely dry, as though you had never entered the water at all. A pair of equally sparkling shoes adorned your feet, golden sandals more beautiful and comfortable than any you had ever seen or imagined. Your previous garment lay scattered across the sand, now fading back to its brownish color, stirring gently in the wind.

"I see you've done it again."

At the sound of that familiar voice and approaching hoofbeats, you smiled and turned around. Astra stood there, as majestic as when your light had restored him, his ears twitching gently.

"Astra, it's good to see you well."

"Likewise, though circumstances are... not the best."

"I feel so helpless, Astra. He refuses to speak with me."

"I know... he won't speak to me either. I've tried, but he becomes distraught at the mere mention of your name."

You sighed, brushing your fingers against his smooth head. "He is so maddening. And I can't even find a way to tell him about the baby."

"I'm afraid any attempt to contact him would be futile. He has withdrawn from everything, even us Dreams. His heart aches, and though he struggles to keep the kingdom intact, it crumbles alongside him."

"What can I do?"

"Well... you helped me. Perhaps you can help someone else too."

“Who?”

"Come with me—it's better if I show you."

Wordlessly, Astra pivoted on his hooves and began leading the way forward into the unknown. Gathering the folds of your gown, you followed in his wake as you strode along the shoreline. The surrounding landscape started to transform anew, enveloping you both within a mystical tunnel adorned with nebulae and stars.

“Astra, where are you taking me?”

Your voice resonated softly, rippling through the tunnel's crystalline walls.

"We're almost there," he replied. "Hopefully we'll make it in time."

A light shone in the distance as the tunnel dissolved, revealing a desolate forest. Your sandals rustled against dried leaves, their crisp sound echoing through the air. From somewhere ahead came deep, rhythmic breathing, its force substantial enough to create subtle vibrations in the ground beneath.

“There! Hurry!”

Astra began to run, and you followed through, quickening your pace. Something big and scaly caught your eye; a giant creature that you had seen before, a dragon Morpheus had created at the start of your relationship, during your very first dream together.

Morpheus stood a few paces away, his hands clasped before him. His subtle smile conveyed evident pride in his creation.

"Now you're just showing off," you stated with a smirk. He merely responded with a soft chuckle.

Your throat tightened as you approached the dragon, its once-luminous scales now ashen and battle-worn.

"It's dying," Astra said, gently nuzzling the dragon's head with his muzzle. "Many Dreams and Nightmares are suffering just as this one does. As I did."

Kneeling before the majestic creature, you extended your hand toward its face. Its glazed eyes locked with yours, conveying an unspoken entreaty.

"I don't understand. Morpheus would never allow his world to fade like this."

"No, but I'm afraid he's at a loss right now. His feelings run deeper than anything he's ever experienced."

"But why?" you asked softly.

"Because of you, of course. He needs you as mortals need air to breathe."

"He left me of his own accord—to protect me, that much I know. But why must he face all this alone?"

Astra shook his head. "As you noted yourself; Lord Morpheus is obstinate beyond measure."

"Is there a way I can mend this?"

"I believe so. You restored me, and just now you mended your dreamland. Perhaps you could work that same light magic again?"

"Astra, I have no idea how to control this power. It seems to happen completely at random," you explained.

"Just try. This power, whatever it may be, simply comes from within you."

With careful deliberation, you pressed your forehead against the dragon's weathered scales, closing your eyes to focus your consciousness within the ethereal realm of the dream. As you attuned yourself to the dragon's labored breathing, the Dreamstone's warmth radiated outward from where it rested against your chest. The sensation cascaded through your body, flowing from your heart down to your abdomen, converging into luminous tendrils that flowed from your form. These glowing strands of light merged seamlessly with your attire, extending outward to encircle the dragon in an intricate, spiral pattern.

The creature's scales underwent a remarkable metamorphosis, shifting into brilliant tones of emerald and amber as its respiratory pattern stabilized, becoming more steady and controlled. Little by little, the dragon rose to its full stature, and as you lifted yourself to stand, its imposing height and magnificent proportions became even more apparent.

With a graceful smile, you acknowledged the creature's respectful bow and reciprocated the gesture. The dragon then unfurled its imposing wings and, with a single powerful thrust, ascended into the air. The force of its departure created a substantial downdraft before it vanished into the distant horizon.

"Well, I'd say you're mastering that gift of yours," Astra remarked, moving to stand beside you.

"It's not truly mine though, is it?"

"What makes you say that?"

"I'm carrying Morpheus' child. Clearly, these powers are coming from the baby."

Astra's brow furrowed thoughtfully. "In part, yes. But I believe there's more to it than that."

"What do you mean? I'm only human, Astra. Morpheus is the one who has full control over this realm, not me. And surely, his child is no different."

"You may not have direct control over the Dreaming, but I think you're more than you believe yourself to be. This golden light? It's undoubtedly coming from you."

You chuckled, shaking your head. "I never had it before. This is no coincidence."

"Look, I may not have all the answers—and truly, only he would know for certain. But as a supernatural creature myself, Y/N, I can assure you that this magic isn't coming from our future Prince or Princess of the Dreaming. Not entirely at least."

You sighed heavily. "I'm completely lost right now."

"Don't worry yourself over it, my dear. You're already doing far more than anyone could expect in this realm. I can see how much you're hurting."

Your lower lip quivered. "I'm so tired, Astra. I miss him terribly. I want to see him, to talk to him, to tell him how much I love him… how desperately I need him in my life."

Astra nodded. "You will, I promise you. Somehow, this will all come to an end. For now, though... you must return to the Waking World."

"I'm not ready to leave yet."

"Don't worry. I'll always be here, and so will the Dreaming. I doubt he would let it collapse… sooner or later he'll get his head out of his rear, as you humans like to say."

You laughed, taking his face between your hands and gently kissing his muzzle. "Thank you, Astra. You’re so precious to me."

"And you are to me as well, Y/N. He created me for you—I'm your familiar. And as such, even when you can't see me, know that I'm always with you."

As you gave him a gentle nod, Astra moved closer and delicately pressed his snout against your abdomen, his eyes falling shut.

"See you soon, my Queen."

With those parting words, consciousness returned as you awakened from the realm of dreams, greeted by the warm, amber tint of daybreak filtering through the windows.

The uncertainty of waiting felt like an endless ordeal. Even with Astra's reassuring outlook, the passage of time only intensified your apprehension about the coming days. 

Your eyes were swollen from constant tears, and although your pregnancy symptoms had slightly subsided, the pain of nurturing this new life without Morpheus felt like an impossible burden to bear.

The Book of Paradoxes could not be found, and according to Lucienne, it seemed improbable that Morpheus was still referencing it. Despite your multiple attempts to summon him, he remained withdrawn, isolating himself in his grief and refusing to engage in any communication with his subjects.

Although he had promised to continue searching for a solution during your separation, the book's alleged disappearance suggested a concerning possibility: Morpheus had abandoned his quest to find a way back to you.

Meanwhile, your dreams persisted, and with each exploration, they grew increasingly enigmatic and complex, filled with cryptic messages and meanings you struggled to decipher.

Until, one afternoon, a seemingly ordinary nap turned into your most impactful dream yet.

Navigating through the library's shelves, you found yourself walking through an extensive maze of books and corridors. An inexplicable force seemed to guide your steps, while the familiar mysterious whisper once again called your name, drawing you deeper into the unknown.

"ʸ/ᴺ... ʸ/ᴺ...!”

"Who are you?" you asked, turning your head in every direction but unable to locate the source of the voice.

"͓̩C͕͓̝̠͔̞͑̈̉̋̒̔͒̐̏́l͙̬̞̥̥͍̦̩̱o̘͇̩̞̗͓̜̥̭ͯ̋ͭ͂̄̈ͪͧs̲̬̝͕̲̦͚̙̍ͭ̓ͦe͕̬͕̰̔͛͌̒ͨ̈́r̯̠̦̩ͨ̌̑..."

You pressed onward, your heart pounding wildly as the rows of books appeared to close in around you.

"͓̩C͕͓̝̥͍̦̩̱͑̈̉̋̒o̘͇̩̞͙̗͓̖ͯ̋ͭ͂ͬͩ̊m̩͈͕̲̦͚̙e͕̬̔͛͌... ̯͍̱c̟͕̥͍̦̩̱ͩo̘͇̩̞͙̗͓̖ͯ̋ͭ͂ͬͩ̊m̩͈͕̲̦͚̙e͕̬̔͛͌ ̯͍̱c̟͕̠͔̞ͩ̔͒̐̏́l͙̬̞̥̥͍̦̩̱o̘͇̩̞̗͓̜̥̭ͯ̋ͭ͂̄̈ͪͧs̲̬̝͕̲̦͚̙̍ͭ̓ͦe͕̬͕̰̔͛͌̒ͨ̈́r̯̠̦̩ͨ̌̑..."

Upon reaching a corner, you came face-to-face with a dead end, forcing you to retrace your steps and pursue an alternate route. The voice grew more persistent, its omnipresent nature evoking frustration rather than fear as it echoed throughout the space.

A somber, misty ambiance permeated the library. This section was unfamiliar—an unexplored wing that seemed to challenge rather than accommodate your presence. You ventured into the perpetual labyrinth of corridors, maneuvering through narrow passages and confronting various impediments. The journey appeared to stretch interminably, leaving you with the distinct sensation of being trapped in a constant loop.

You halted at the center of a circular chamber where multiple passageways converged. The air grew still, and an unsettling silence fell over you, unnaturally absolute in its totality. Footsteps echoed through the distant halls, rendering you motionless, your feet inexplicably rooted to the ground.

"̣̝́Y͇̲̦͚̙̚e͕̬̗͓̜̥̭̔͛͌̄̈ͪͧs̲̬̝͕̍ͭ̓ͦ, ̯͍̱c̟͕̠͔̞ͩ̔͒̐̏́l͙̬̞̥̥͍̦̩̱o̘͇̩̞̗͓̜̥̭ͯ̋ͭ͂̄̈ͪͧs̲̬̝͕̲̦͚̙̍ͭ̓ͦe͕̬͕̰̔͛͌̒ͨ̈́r̯̠̦̩ͨ̌̑... à̜̫͍̣͖̑̉ͧ̿ ̠͔̞̔͒̐̏́l͙̬̞̥̜̟͙͕̎̄̆i̠̜͗̈́ͯ̾͊ͅt͓̙͔̠̜͊̈́ͯ̾͊ͅt͓̙͔̠͔̞͊̔͒̐̏́l͙̬̞̥̲̦͚̙e͕̬̔͛͌ ̯͍̱c̟͕̠͔̞ͩ̔͒̐̏́l͙̬̞̥̥͍̦̩̱o̘͇̩̞̗͓̜̥̭ͯ̋ͭ͂̄̈ͪͧs̲̬̝͕̲̦͚̙̍ͭ̓ͦe͕̬͕̰̔͛͌̒ͨ̈́r̯̠̦̩ͨ̌̑... ̯͍̱c̟͕̠͔̞ͩ̔͒̐̏́l͙̬̞̥̥͍̦̩̱o̘͇̩̞̗͓̜̥̭ͯ̋ͭ͂̄̈ͪͧs̲̬̝͕̲̦͚̙̍ͭ̓ͦe͕̬͕̰̔͛͌̒ͨ̈́r̯̠̦̩ͨ̌̑!"

Your respiration accelerated, resonating prominently in the stillness that enveloped you. The whispers dissolved into an indecipherable chorus, their words interweaving in an almost ritualistic manner.

The footsteps grew more pronounced, their resonance becoming deafening until they halted mere paces behind you. Your hair lifted gracefully into the air, suspended as though floating in water. The atmosphere carried a nostalgic blend of fragrances: distinctive notes of sandalwood intermingled with winter forest and exotic incense, crowned by the unmistakable essence of sea salt.

That unique combination of scents could belong to only one being in all of existence.

As you turned, the breath froze in your lungs. Standing before you was Morpheus, his commanding presence unmistakable in his characteristic black attire. His dark, untamed hair moved in mystical synchronicity with your own, creating an otherworldly tableau that marked the end of your prolonged separation.

His eyes grew wide with astonishment as he beheld you, his breathing unsteady. Standing mere steps away, he filled the space between you with an almost tangible energy. Your throat constricted as you attempted to call out to him, your lips silently forming his name in the soundless void between you.

He was momentarily stunned, the redness rimming his eyes revealing the profound anguish he carried inside. But as soon as he registered your approach, his head turned away—eyes squeezing shut—as he withdrew into the shadows. 

His rejection pierced your soul, leaving an aching void where your heart once beat.

“No, wait…”

With newfound determination, you left the circular room in pursuit, running through the labyrinthine shelves only to discover emptiness among them. Once again, he had vanished, denying you the opportunity for dialogue. He was fleeing from you as if you were a plague, convinced that being with you would only bring pain and devastation into your life.

If only he had known that your lives were now inextricably linked through the child you had conceived together in the realm of dreams, a magical being whose very existence necessitated the presence of their father, with no possibility for compromise.

Consumed by your emotions, you screamed his name repeatedly, searching frantically through the neverending corridors, through every row and shelf in sight.

But then, overcome with exhaustion, you collapsed to your knees as tears cascaded down your face. With trembling voice, you attempted to vocalize the crucial revelation you had been attempting to share with him for days, as he had left you with no other way to do so.

"Morpheus! Please, listen to me! I'm preg—"

However, an unseen power stopped you from revealing it, as a gust of wind surged through the space, threatening to destabilize your balance. Regaining your footing, the library's surroundings began to dissolve into nothingness, leaving you in a vast area filled with misplaced items and twisted paths.

"ʸ/ᴺ…!”

The enigmatic voice beckoned once more, but you remained steadfast in your resolve to disregard its call. Their identity and nature was still an enigma, and you became increasingly weary of your chase with an unknown presence that seemed intent on leading you astray.

At this point, you had become undeniably frustrated with anything relatively mysterious that presented itself as another riddle to solve.

"ʸ/ᴺ!”

“Oh, shut the fu—”

“—ck up!!!”

"Y/N! What's all this about? Are you all right?"

Disoriented, you foud yourself reclining on the couch, a blanket draped across your legs. Surveying your surroundings, you recognized your living room, where Hob stood in the kitchen area, preparing dinner while casting concerned glances in your direction.

With trembling hands, you ran your fingers through your hair as your gaze fixed upon the empty mug on the coffee table. In a moment of blinding rage, you seized it forcefully and, without a word, hurled it across the room. The impact against the wall shattered the ceramic into fragments that littered the floor—a physical representation of your current state.

A guttural scream escaped your throat as you clasped your temples in distress. Immediately, Hob rushed to your side, embracing you protectively while murmuring reassurances.

"Oi love, easy there now! Steady on, you're okay. Everything's gonna be okay."

Your breathing came in ragged gasps as you struggled to calm down, while he offered comfort with gentle strokes along your arm.

"It’s not good for the little one, innit? Come on now, take it easy. Did you have a rough dream? Were you chatting with someone?"

Shaking your head, you sobbed. "He was there, Hob. I saw him. But he wouldn't even talk to me… he just turned away and left."

"Well ain't that just like 'im? Bloody hell, what a right fool!"

"I was so close to telling him about the baby, but... I couldn't. Something kept stopping me, speaking to me, and I just..."

"Shhhh now, love. Best not to dwell on it. Take some proper breaths."

"I swear, this is driving me mad."

Hob let out a heavy sigh, clenching his jaw. "If I had that bloody idiot in front of me right now, I'd give 'im a proper piece of my mind."

"No doubt you would. But I'm afraid it would be a waste of breath," you stated.

"Look, I've known him for centuries, right? And he once turned his back on me over some right daft nonsense, which I've been feeling guilty about for over a hundred years. But this? This is about you now, and it's absolutely mental!"

You managed a weak smile. "He has his reasons. Even with all this anger burning inside me, I still can't bring myself to hate him for it."

"Eh, you really do love him. That's what I call proper dedication."

"He's the father of my child, after all. One way or another, he'll need to be informed—assuming he doesn't already know."

He took a seat by your side, squeezing your knee affectionately. "I don't think he does, Shortcake. He might be a right bastard, but I don't reckon he'd abandon both of you like this."

Given the tragic outcome surrounding Orpheus and the deep remorse that followed, it seemed improbable that he would deliberately distance himself from his unborn child merely due to concerns about potentially similar consequences.

Nevertheless, the way he cast you away, prompted by a prophecy within the Book of Paradoxes, made predicting his potential response particularly arduous.

Still, the dilemma of committing to an indefinite wait for his return weighed heavily on your conscience.

Confusion and mortification paralyzed Morpheus' thoughts. Following his return of the Book of Paradoxes to the library, unusual phenomena began to form throughout the realm, particularly inside his castle. Subtle whispers and voices seemed to demand his attention, persistently echoing in his mind like a cruel joke meant to toy with his emotions. 

From what had reached his ears, Lucienne’s thorough investigation could not locate the volume anywhere in the library. Morpheus dismissed the matter as inconsequential, as he was resolute in his conviction that maintaining distance was essential. Your safety from the perpetual darkness that had defined his existence since inception took precedence over all other considerations, and when the voices finally subsided, he concluded the book must have simply transported itself to another location, seeking another soul to ensnare with its dire warnings.

This time, however, the voices returned with greater intensity than before, undermining his authority and throwing the library into chaos. Never did he expect to find you at the very heart of it. 

You, his beloved Y/N, the woman he adored with fierce devotion yet was compelled to push away. The one he had desperately tried to lock out of his heart, erecting walls to shield himself from your desperate pleas. Hearing your voice alone would weaken his defenses and make him question everything—something he dared not risk when your safety hung in the balance of a looming catastrophe.

Your unexpected materialization in the library at that pivotal moment left him paralyzed. You were a vision of grace and beauty that tested the limits of his self-control, and every fiber of his being urged him to lose himself in your embrace and savor the taste of your lips, forgetting all he knew. 

His sense of duty and conviction drove him to turn away, believing that severing your connection was the only gift he could offer to shield you from the consequences that his consuming need for your love might bring upon your future.

But now, doubt began to creep into his being. He questioned whether his interpretation of the book's prophecy had been correct, and whether his choice of cutting ties with you was as warranted as he believed it to be. Did he sacrifice your bond prematurely, based on a misunderstanding fed by his own fear of losing you?

Although every indication within the book pointed to an inevitable conclusion, his certainty in its finality had begun to waver.

Lost in his musings, Morpheus was suddenly alerted to a dramatic change within the Dreaming. A powerful burst of magic made its way through the kingdom's foundation, causing the castle to tremble violently.

His attention was drawn to the floor before the stairs, where a sigil of silver light engraved itself into the marble. Descending step by step, he examined the glowing symbol, recognizing it as a sight that required his respect. The emblem represented an ancient glyph of mercy and balance, a formal summon invoking ancestral protocols to request an audience with Dream of the Endless from another world.

It was an old rite, a petition of parley. And Morpheus knew exactly who was sending it forward.

Bound by cosmic law, he could not refuse this meeting. With silent acquiescence, he remained on the stairs as the Goddess' form emerged from the sigil. Her face struck him like a physical blow—so reminiscent of you, but distinctly different in its own way.

The glyph faded to a subtle outline on the floor. Paregoros was still at its center, fixing Morpheus with an inscrutable expression.

"I acknowledge your presence in my domain, Paregoros," he spoke, his voice guarded. "I bid you welcome to the Dreaming."

"Greetings, Oneiros," she replied with a graceful bow. "I am grateful for your audience."

"I could not deny it. What brings you to my realm?" he asked with a hint of wariness.

Paregoros smiled knowingly, casting her eyes downward. "I believe you understand precisely why I have come to speak with you."

"I must confess, I find such a formal visitation to my realm quite… unexpected."

"Indeed, I have not given you sufficient cause to trust me. That is my responsibility." Clasping her hands in front of her, she took a deep breath. "Look, I admit I held you in rather low regard, and I made it clear that I disapproved of your relationship with my daughter."

"Then you shall be pleased to know that we are no longer bound together," he stated with cold resignation.

With a heavy sigh, Paregoros shook her head with a mix of sadness and reproach. "If that were truly the case, I would not be standing here."

"Tell me then, what service might the King of Dreams provide to the Daimona of consolation?"

"I require no service from you, Oneiros. I come not for myself, but for Y/N."

"Then I'm afraid you have traveled here in vain.”

Paregoros' eyes softened as they filled with her distinctive compassion. "Oh, Oneiros. I see it now. You truly do love my daughter."

"I have made my position on this matter quite clear," he retorted. "But what relevance does it hold now?"

"You did... and I could not believe you at the time. Oneiros, I do realize that I was wrong. Please accept my sincerest apology."

Morpheus gave a stoic nod. “Your apology is accepted. If you have nothing further to discuss, I must return to my duties.”

Paregoros chuckled, whispering to herself, "My daughter truly has the patience of a saint."

Clearing her throat, she adjusted the folds of her dress, straightening her posture. "If you would permit me to speak freely, Lord Morpheus, perhaps I could explain."

"Very well. Proceed," he intoned solemnly.

"I am aware of your situation with Y/N. You chose to leave, claiming it was to protect her from some perceived danger—or perhaps to shield her from yourself.”

His hands tightened into fists, yet he remained silent, allowing her to continue.

"I may have contributed to the problem. I planted those doubts in your mind, speaking against you and using your history with Calliope to persuade her to move on. Though I believed she deserved better than what you could offer, everything she told me about you gave me much to reflect upon."

Morpheus moved down a few more steps. "I can assure you, your words had no bearing on my decision."

"In any case, I urge you to reconsider. I realize this may sound contradictory, but... against all expectations, you two may really be destined for each other."

"We are not," he stated with cold finality. "My past actions have brought only pain and destruction. I need not remind you of the consequences of my affections."

"You don't. But the being I see before me now is not the same one who existed then."

"That is irrelevant."

"No, Oneiros. It is very relevant.”

“How?”

“Y/N saw you in a way that no one else could, not even me or your former wife. Your heartbreak now runs so deep that I can feel its weight from here.”

She paused, pressing her lips together as tears welled in her eyes, moved by what she could empathize with.

“If you believe you deserve this self-imposed suffering, let me assure you: you have nothing left to prove."

"I did not abandon her to prove anything," he stated, his gravelly voice resonating with a hint of barely contained fury. "I left to ensure she has a future. One untainted by the tragedies foretold in the Book of Paradoxes. As her mother, surely you must understand the necessity of my actions."

Paregoros blinked several times in rapid succession, absorbing his words, as disbelief spread across her face. "Wait… the Book of Paradoxes? You ended things with my daughter because of that?"

"You must know the significance that such a tome bears, and the gravity of its pages."

She exhaled deeply, pressing her fingertips against her nose bridge as comprehension dawned.

"Oneiros, the Book of Paradoxes is never as straightforward as it seems. It is far more complex than a vessel of catastrophic prophecies."

"Do you truly believe I would make such a momentous decision without thoroughly examining every possible interpretation? That I would cast aside my bond with your daughter based on a mere cursory reading?"

"You are Dream of the Endless, I would not expect you to take anything lightly."

Morpheus released a heavy breath, closing his eyes for a moment before meeting the Goddess' gaze once more. "I refuse to allow this fate to become a tangible possibility. I will not subject her to that suffering, even if the cost to me is immeasurable."

"I understand. And believe me when I say that I'm truly grateful for your demonstrated care. But that doesn't change the fact that whatever the book presented may actually hold a very different explanation beneath those lines. Especially—"

She abruptly stopped speaking, pressing her lower lip between her teeth as the weight of her unspoken sentence hung in the air.

"Especially... what?" he inquired. "If you possess knowledge pertinent to this matter, I insist you share it."

Her eyes darted back and forth as she brought her hand to her lips, carefully choosing her next response.

"What I can say is that she needs you, Oneiros. More than she ever has before."

"You are concealing something from me.”

"My apologies, Dream King. It must come from another source, not from me."

"First my subjects, and now you,” he said with exasperation. “Why is it that everyone seems to know the answers that perpetually elude me?"

She laughed softly, her melodious voice echoing through the throne room. "The real question is how you haven't noticed. I mean no insult, of course. But given how thoroughly you've isolated yourself, it's hardly surprising."

Intrigued by her implications, Morpheus descended the remaining steps, closing the distance between them to only three paces.

"Enlighten me, then. What is it that I have failed to perceive?"

"You have changed, Oneiros… but so has Y/N. She is no longer the same mortal you met over nine months ago. Her existence has deepened and transformed, and so has yours."

"I must insist you dispense with these allusions and speak with clarity."

Unfazed by his demand, Paregoros shook her head. "If you’re looking for answers, then speak to my daughter. Stop burying your head in the sand like a stubborn ostrich. Pun absolutely intended."

In his solitude, Morpheus grappled with a torment that pierced the very core of his immortal essence. Without you, he felt himself dying piece by piece, molecule by molecule, his heart fragmenting into ever-smaller shards.

"I find it curious that you, who once sought so fervently to shield your daughter from my influence, now advocate for our reunion."

"As I mentioned, circumstances have changed significantly. Oneiros, the Book of Paradoxes never appears by chance. It seeks out specific beings when they are meant to see it, at predetermined moments in time," she explained with gentle patience. "You might think it revealed itself to prevent a disaster on her, but from what I know, this is not an ending at all; if anything, it’s the beginning of something beautiful. If you would only open your eyes to see the truth."

Paregoros, Astra, Lucienne, and Matthew…

What vital message had they all been trying to convey? Something lurked beneath their words, a revelation that had escaped his understanding when it had been right before his eyes all along.

He had fought against his better instincts to preserve your light, to give you a chance at a prosperous future—even if it meant he wouldn't be a part of it. Now the fabric of the Dreaming continued to fall apart, and each attempt to mend one breach seemed to result in new fractures emerging elsewhere, beyond his immediate attention.

An unseen power stirred within his castle walls, drawing him toward you. If even the faintest possibility existed that he could stay with you without becoming the architect of your downfall, he would give up everything he was.

"Dare I contemplate the possibility of redemption? Of making choices that will not lead to the same regrets of the past?" He mused aloud, speaking more to himself than to the Goddess.

“For what it's worth, I believe your redemption lies in my daughter. Promise me, Oneiros. Promise me you won't leave things as they stand."

Finally yielding to a new glimmer of hope, Morpheus acquiesced. "I give you my word."

With evident relief, Paregoros offered a radiant smile and inclined her head in appreciation. She executed another bow, this one carrying deeper sincerity, before activating the sigil beneath her feet.

"This is all I came here for," she affirmed. "I owe you thanks, Oneiros. The life of my daughter, all that she is and will represent for our worlds, is in your hands."

The floor illuminated once more with silvery light, and as Paregoros dissolved into a shower of luminescent particles, Morpheus found himself invigorated with renewed determination.

Perhaps a path existed for reconciliation, one that would allow him to mend the emotional wounds he had inflicted to your heart, and upon himself.

While you both returned to your respective work, Hob graciously extended his stay. You welcomed his continued presence in your home, knowing that solitude would only worsen your contemplative state.

As night approached, a peaceful calm enveloped the apartment, punctuated only by Hob's gentle snoring from the living room and the soft cadence of your measured breathing. The apartment was dark except for city glow filtering through the windows, with occasional car headlights briefly illuminating the rooms. You reclined in a supine position, with one arm tucked beneath your pillow while the other rested gently at your side.

Deep in slumber, you didn’t notice the shift in the air as Morpheus took shape beside your bed. His gaze fell upon you with reverence, though guilt pierced his heart at the sight of a tear-stained tissue on your nightstand. 

He examined your sleeping form carefully, the delicate bedsheets draped to your waist, searching for any indication that might explain the allusive statements he had received. Everything appeared unchanged, your essence as captivating as when he last beheld you. 

Tentatively, driven by his irrepressible need to touch you, he extended his long fingers to your face, softly brushing a few strands away. Though you deserved far more than he could offer, you seemed unwilling to seek happiness elsewhere, and he loathed himself for wishing every mortal man would burn to ash should they dare come too close to you.

His chest constricted with emotion as you shifted slightly in your sleep, his hand staying in place. With calculated gentleness, he traced his fingers through your hair, observing how the strands flowed like silk between them.

That brief touch eased the pain of his yearning, temporarily mending the void within his soul.

But then, something unexpected occurred that made even the King of Dreams recoil in shock.

Suddenly, your skin began to emanate a celestial golden radiance, forming as luminous filaments that extended outward and immediately surrounded his form. He watched the spectacle with wonderment, sensing its gentle warmth against his cool exterior. As he rotated his hand, the responsive light followed his movements with fluid grace, embracing his form like a second skin. 

You lay still in deep sleep as he advanced to examine it. The ethereal illumination emanated from your chest cavity, creating a brilliant corona that radiated outward, its tendrils of light weaving an intricate display throughout the room. 

However, upon closer inspection, he noticed something else. The energy seemed to radiate not only from your heart but also distinctly from your abdominal region, creating two separate points of origin.

His brows knitted in concentration as he extended his senses, perceiving a subtle yet distinct sound. The faint rhythm, though barely perceptible, was unmistakably present.

As he detected a second heartbeat resonating from within your form, the realization finally struck him like a lightning bolt crashing into the earth, bringing clarity to all that had remained obscured for weeks.

"You have read the book, yes, but have you truly understood it? Where you see endings, there might be beginnings.”

"You believe you'll bring her ruin. Yet have you considered that your absence might do the same? That she may not survive without you?"

"It is because you made me Y/N's familiar that I understand what is eluding you. If you would only speak with her once, you would see it as well. But then again, I'm merely a dream. What could I possibly know?"

“Oneiros, the Book of Paradoxes never appears by chance. It seeks out specific beings when they are meant to see it, at predetermined moments in time. You might think it revealed itself to prevent a disaster on her, but from what I know, this is not an ending at all; if anything, it’s the beginning of something beautiful. If you would only open your eyes to see the truth."

“A Child of the Endless…” he whispered, eyes wide, slowly sinking to his knees. “My child."

The real question is how you haven't noticed.”

Indeed. How had he not noticed it? The signs had been there all along—when he summoned you in dreams to end your relationship, during your time in the Dreaming, and most definitely when he found you in the library.

Those whispers were not deceptive or arbitrary in nature. Rather, they served as beacons, guiding him toward what he had to see: the presence of new life inside you. He would have recognized it had he not isolated himself, distancing his mind from the truth that stood bare before him.

His beautiful, precious Y/N, the one true love of his eternal life, now carried his child.

His child.

You had come into his world like a glowing star. Now you were a bridge between your realms, bearing a child of hope, and it was so much more than he could ever claim.

He finally saw deep into your soul, your memories, and your heart. So untainted and pure, with no darkness lurking inside. No lies, and no deceit. He witnessed only light, brilliant and beautiful, filling every corner of your spirit and radiating in his direction. A luminous gleam surrounded your figure, as serene as a star in the night sky.

That day within the basement, he witnessed the same golden luminescence that now shaped physically before him. He had interpreted it as merely metaphorical—a representation of your soul's essence, something figurative. However, this radiance was a tangible force, an innate ability that had been dormant in you since birth.

He had unknowingly left you to navigate these circumstances alone, both the manifestation of an unprecedented ability and the responsibility of his child. If the Book of Paradoxes had intended to guide him toward this revelation, perhaps its contents required a deeper examination.

Assuming he could find the tome once more.

With a delicate touch, he traced his fingers across the fabric covering your abdomen, his vision blurring with emotion, right as the light gradually subsided. Before departing to the Dreaming in a swirl of sand, he made a solemn vow to both you and himself: he would resolve everything without wavering, regardless of any prophecy, for you and for this miraculous new life. 

Morpheus would do whatever was necessary to become the lover and father you both deserved.

You jolted awake, whispering Morpheus' name with a sense of his lingering presence, scanning the room methodically. As disappointment settled in, your bleary eyes caught glimpse of what appeared to be minute grains of sand suspended in the air. 

Though you wished to attribute them to something more significant, the fading golden filaments in your hands suggested they were merely remnants of your power, or perhaps just atmospheric dust floating in the room, creating an illusion of what you longed to see.

Disheartened, you collapsed back into the mattress, another devastating crack forming in your already wounded heart.

"So, looks like we're still in the same boat as before, huh? Just, y'know, stating the obvious here."

Lucienne removed her glasses to rub her eyes, addressing Matthew with an exhausted sigh. "I am well aware we're not making progress."

"I know you're bustin' your chops here, but come on... if that book was anywhere in this place, you'd have found it already, right?"

"That was my assessment as well. But, as it remains our sole avenue of investigation, and given Lord Morpheus' current... disposition..."

"Yeah, we're fresh outta leads here. I get it."

"I'm afraid that's quite correct."

"Well, I'll keep an eye out. You know, do my thing, flying around, being all observant and stuff. Just give me a shout if you need me!"

“Sure.”

As Matthew flew off, Lucienne resumed her methodical search, reviewing her records and setting aside volumes unrelated to her primary focus. While the storms had quieted down, Mervyn was perpetually on edge due to the constant floods inundating the gardens, making his management duties both tedious and futile.

She walked through the aisles, scanning for any shelf she might have overlooked, confirming that all volumes were accounted for in her register. Just as frustration began to set in during her repetitive search, Morpheus' voice suddenly thundered throughout the library.

“Lucienne.”

Surprised, the librarian emerged from between the shelves to find her lord standing at the main table, an increasingly uncommon occurrence as of late.

"My Lord?" she inquired, approaching him with her hands clasped before her.

His face was inscrutable, yet a new glint shimmered in his eyes.

"I trust you have something of great importance to discuss with me," he stated "Something that requires my immediate attention."

His piercing gaze left no room for misunderstanding—there was only one matter he could be referring to.

"You've discovered that she's with child, haven't you?"

"I have. Though I’m curious as to why my most trusted librarian decided to withhold this information from me."

"In truth, I was going to tell you, sir. But she specifically requested my discretion in this matter."

"Why would she choose to conceal this from me?" he asked, hurt and confused.

"She was afraid at first... she needed time to process everything herself. And the moment she desperately attempted to inform you, you… weren't exactly making yourself available."

Morpheus looked down, realizing the extent of his actions.

While she was reluctant to press the point, Lucienne felt compelled to voice her sentiments. "With all due respect, my lord, you've been absent for all of us."

"I have failed you all,” he admitted. “An apology is the very least I owe."

Lucienne offered a gentle smile, resting her weight against the table.

"After the Vortex incident, I thought I had learned from my mistakes. I told you I would listen, and yet... I proceeded to do precisely the opposite."

"My lord, I understand these decisions were not made lightly—"

"No, there can be no excuse for what I’ve done. You all attempted to warn me; you, Matthew, Astra... Y/N. I let the shadows of my past cloud my judgment. In my arrogance, I pushed away those who wished to help, foolishly believing I could face this darkness alone. And The Dreaming paid the price for my negligence. As you did."

"What do you intend to do about this situation now?"

His fingers traced absently along a tome's leather cover, following the embossed letters without purpose.

"I require the Book, Lucienne. And you alone possess the means to aid me in its recovery."

"I was under the impression you were in possession of it still, my lord?"

"I returned it several days ago," he spoke with gravity. "But now... I must read it once more."

Lucienne shook her head slowly. "Sir, I've actually searched the entire library multiple times. And if you have returned it, then I might deduce the Book of Paradoxes simply isn't here anymore. Not that I was able to locate it during its first appearance, either."

His lips curled into a knowing smile. "I am quite certain it is here," he stated with quiet conviction. "Hidden within these very walls."

"And how exactly do you know that, my lord?"

"Because I sense its presence... and I hear its whispers," he replied.

"A whispering book? Great. That's quite beyond even my extensive library experience."

"The book is a Paradox in itself. Its very nature shifts and changes, and it never remains in one fixed location. It uses the fabric of the Dreaming to conceal its true form."

Lucienne arched an eyebrow, her voice dripping with its characteristic dry wit. "How are we meant to find it? Perhaps we should simply wait for it to grace us with another cryptic conversation?"

"I... do not know.”

"My lord, if even you cannot locate this book within your own domain, perhaps we're dealing with something far beyond our comprehension."

“I need your help, Lucienne. Please. I owe it to her, to all of you. And... to my child yet unborn."

Upon hearing those heartfelt words brimming with love, Lucienne couldn't bring herself to refuse her lord's request. Given all they had endured due to the book's influence, and the weeks of hardship both he and you had faced, she was determined not to let this obstacle stand in the way of your collective quest.

With that, she adjusted her spectacles, rolled up her sleeves, and cleared space on the cluttered table. “Very well. Where should I begin?”

Chapter 1 Chapter 2 Chapter 3 Chapter 4 Chapter 5 Chapter 6 Chapter 7 Chapter 8 Chapter 9 Chapter 10 Chapter 11 Chapter 12 Chapter 13 Chapter 14 Chapter 15 Chapter 16 Chapter 17 Chapter 18 Chapter 19 Chapter 20 Chapter 21 Chapter 22 Chapter 23 Chapter 24 (currently reading) Go to Chapter 25 (coming soon) ->

[thosegayoldmen]

Lokius Reverse Bang! 2024

It's finally here! My piece for the the @lokiusbang event! Thank you to all the organizers of the event, I've had an absolute blast!

I can't tell you how much fun I've had writing for this wonderful prompt from the amazingly talented @natendo-art! You can see their wonderful artwork for this piece here, go shower them with all the love!

I'm so proud of this, and I really hope you all enjoy it as much as I enjoyed writing it! 😘

WARNING: SPICE ALERT!

This piece is pure smut (with feelings) 😉 Enjoy! ~

One of the many things Loki admires about Mobius is his modesty - an unfaltering humility in the face of others, and a seemingly never ending supply of affirmations for those around him; especially Loki. No matter how badly something goes wrong, Mobius is always there to reassure and support his friends and coworkers, and make sure no one is being too hard on themselves.

But Mobius…is a hypocrite.

OR

Loki has caught Mobius saying one too many bad things about himself and needs to set the record straight.

Words: 11,428, Chapters: 1/1, Language: English

Rating: Explicit

Archive Warning: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings

Category: M/M

Fandom: Loki (TV 2021)

Relationship: Loki & Mobius M. Mobius, Loki/Mobius M. Mobius

Additional Tags: Established Relationship, Self-Esteem Issues, Body Image, Insecurity, Light Bondage, Body Worship, Self-Worth Issues, Self-Acceptance, Self-Love, Praise Kink, Praise, aggressive affection, Bottom Mobius M. Mobius, Top Loki (Marvel), PWP, Plot What Plot/Porn Without Plot, Porn with Feelings, Mobius M. Mobius Learns To Love Himself, Loki Is An Excellent Teacher, Lokius Reverse Bang 2024, s2 AU, Alternate Universe - Canon Divergence, Mirrors, Mirror Sex