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Let Your Dreams Be Your Wings | Chapter 27

Chapters: 27/? 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 @gallantys . 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: Writing this chapter was pure joy. It features heartwarming romance, and some absolutely NEEDED smut. I've also added a bit of additional lore about the Reader and story in general, which will eventually transition to the sequel based on season 2. The new episodes will premiere in less than two weeks from today, and that feels absolutely unreal! The moment Chapter 28 will be posted, we'll be already halfway through the second season.

This chapter contains A LOT of tooth rotting fluff, and I'm not even ashamed. I plan to complete this story within the next three chapters, and I suspect the sequel will inevitably force me to add a good amount of drama and emotional traumas, even though I'm working behind the scenes to create an alternative ending that will hopefully make sense. As we know, things are definitely getting darker and more tragic this time around.

WARNING: NSFW and huge chappy ahead.

As more mysteries unfolded and your light powers grew stronger in the Waking World, you cherished every moment with your King of Dreams and the child growing in your womb.

Consciousness returned as you surveyed the chamber Morpheus had crafted within his castle, the amethyst formations casting a gentle glow beneath the ornate canopy, while beyond the window doors stretched the infinite expanse of the dream realm, beckoning with its distant sounds.

You were shaken by pure relief as you confirmed that your reconciliation had indeed been real, dispelling the momentary anxiety that had accompanied your waking state. Your fingertips traced the intricate patterns of the celestial bedding, your nightgown seamlessly merging with the stellar design.

As you adjusted to the dimly lit surroundings and attempted to sit upright, a sudden wave of intense nausea overcame you, compelling you to rise from the bed and make your way to the adjacent washroom. Though you had managed to hold it back until now, your stomach demanded release as you hurried across the polished floor and knelt before the toilet. The feeling was far from pleasant—your throat burned as if lava were pouring out, your eyes clenched shut as you held yourself steady.

Exhausted breaths escaped you as your voice reverberated through the spacious room. Despite your discomfort, you found yourself letting out a weary laugh at the sight of the ethereal liquid in the basin, which swirled around on its own and immediately returned to its pristine appearance.

Rising to your feet, you approached the sink where the mirror reflected your fatigued countenance, dark circles beneath your eyes, your face now bare of makeup. You let the cool water flow over your hands, its gentle cascade providing a moment of respite as you sipped from your cupped hands, letting the cool water refresh your palate and cleanse away the lingering bitterness. The acrid taste faded completely, replaced by subtle hints of mint and lavender.

With a deep exhale, you gripped the sides of the sink as a shadow shifted behind you. Meeting Morpheus' gaze in the mirror, you offered him a smile before turning to face his concerned expression.

“Hey.”

"You are in pain," he observed, his eyes settling softly on your midsection.

"Well, that's a well-known side effect of pregnancy. I'm learning to cope with it," you replied with a shrug.

"I was not present for you when you needed me," he stated, his velvet voice tinged with regret. "I have failed in my responsibility to ease your burden."

"This isn't a burden, Morpheus. I'm carrying your child. And you're here now."

You leaned forward, nestling against his chest as his hands gently encircled your waist, his lips coming to rest against your forehead.

"You are here, aren't you? This is real."

"I am quite real," he reassured you. "And I shall not abandon you to solitude again."

You hummed contentedly, breathing in his anchoring scent, the blend of sandalwood and herbal musk bringing deep comfort.

He gently loosened his embrace as his fingers traced the material of your nightgown, following the curve of your hips and settling against your stomach. "You require rest, my sweet."

Your legs trembled slightly as your symptoms persisted, the sickness rushing back the moment he guided you away from the washroom and back to the king-sized bed. As you sank gracefully onto the pillows and Morpheus seated himself at the edge of the bed, a pang of sharp pain caused you to wince, a soft groan escaping your lips as your brow furrowed in distress.

"Ugh. This little one is certainly stubborn," you said. "As much as I love her, I'd kill for a full night's sleep."

Without a word, Morpheus extended his hand toward your abdomen, his palm resting gently against the fabric covering the growing swell beneath. In an instant, the nausea dissipated again, replaced by a strong sense of tranquility that permeated your entire body, from your toes to the tips of your hair.

Your eyes fluttered closed as you melted into the mattress. “Mhh…”

"Is your suffering eased, my love?"

"Oh yes. Whatever you're doing, it's absolutely working."

You reached for his palm, pressing it more firmly against your stomach as you offered another smile. "Thank you."

"To tend to you, to care for you while you carry our child... it is my deepest honor, and my sacred duty."

Your eyes glistened in the soft light of the room as the amethysts' purple luminescence reflected across his skin, tracing the contour of his jaw.

"I've really missed you, Morpheus," you reiterated. "Without you, I felt so lost."

"I was... blind. A fool who could not see what was before him. I am truly and deeply sorry."

"I wanted to hate you," you blurted out, causing him to freeze. "I wanted to be angry with you for the rest of my life."

His head hung low. "And yet you have chosen to forgive me. Why?"

"Because I love you," you replied simply. "And I knew that even if I wanted to, I could never despise you. How could I, when you've become everything to me?"

"Such kindness is undeserved."

"And why do you think that?"

"I who swore to be your eternal protector have instead caused you the deepest of wounds."

Your lower lip trembled. "You broke my heart."

"Yes."

"But you never intended to."

"No matter."

"It does matter. Your love for me is unmistakable."

His fingers traced small, soothing strokes, the gentle motion endearing. “I do love you. More than all the stories ever dreamed.”

"That's all I need, really. As painful and frightening as it was, I never truly stopped waiting for you."

"Would you still have welcomed me back into your heart, had our child not bound us together?" he asked, his tone carrying both hope and resignation.

You answered with absolute conviction. "Of course. Without a moment's hesitation."

“I…”

"Morpheus, I'm not here with you simply because of the pregnancy. Even before I knew I was expecting, all I wanted was your return."

"After bearing witness to my nature, to the darkness of my actions, to the weight of centuries of pain I have inflicted. You desire my presence still."

You chuckled. "You speak as though that were something inconceivable."

"In my eternal existence, all those I have loved, were inevitably lost."

You tightened your grip around his hand, brushing your thumb across his knuckles. "And yet here I am. The past doesn't dictate the future. I may not agree with all your decisions, but that's what love is about. I won't turn against you just because we have different approaches."

"You possess such strength of spirit, such profound wisdom. Your heart holds a compassion that even the stars would envy. You could have chosen an ordinary existence, a life untouched by nightmares, free from the weight of immortal beings."

You shook your head vigorously. "A life without you? What kind of horrible existence would that be?"

His eyes softened, a faint crimson tinge returning to them. “My love…”

"You must stop diminishing yourself this way. I understand you want what's best for me, but I thought we had moved past your assumption that I couldn't find happiness with you. You said yourself that the book was a trial, one we successfully overcame."

He listened attentively, his throat constricting.

"That first time I saw you—caged, emotionally broken, stripped of everything—I could still perceive your greatness. I felt your power radiating through the glass. And in that moment, everything finally clicked into place."

Your chest tightened as memories flooded back, from your first step into the Burgess estate to the life-changing moment you stood before the Lord of Dreams.

Tears welled in the corners of your eyes, but you blinked them away. "I no longer felt empty, because deep down I knew you were that missing piece of me I had been searching for all along."

A faint, vulnerable smile crossed his lips.

"I know that sounds rather sentimental," you continued. "But I assure you, this was never some fleeting, childish infatuation."

"Such thoughts have never crossed my mind."

Your eyelids felt heavy now, but you fought against sleep. "When I was a child, unable to dream, I would often hope The Sandman would visit my room, sprinkling sand into my eyes to guide me into the world of dreams."

You wrapped your hands around his wrist, holding onto him like an anchor.

"If only I had known that one day I would fall in love with him. That unbeknownst to me, he would become the most beautiful dream imaginable, and welcome me into his realm."

Before he could respond, a laugh bubbled up and spilled from your lips. "I can't imagine what you must have thought of me that day. I was such a mess back then, wasn't I?"

He tilted his head slightly, watching you with those deep, unfathomable eyes that seemed to contain entire galaxies within their depths. "That is not quite accurate, my love."

"Oh, come on, Morpheus. Be honest," you said with a wide grin. "I promise I won't get offended."

He arched a brow, clearly amused by your playful self-deprecation. "I thought you were the most magnificent mortal I had ever seen. Your spirit burned like a spark in the darkness."

Your teasing smile softened into something more tender. "Really?"

He nodded, his free hand reaching to tuck a stray lock of your hair behind your ear. "I saw your kindness, your strength, your refusal to stand idly by in the face of wrongdoing. And though I dared not acknowledge it then, you awakened something ancient within me that I had long forgotten existed.”

"And now?" you asked, your gaze soft and full of love. "What do you think of me now?"

Morpheus leaned in closer, his expression warm and unguarded, the way he reserved only for you. "Now... I believe you are my redemption. And that has been truth itself since the moment you first crossed my path."

"So, I wasn't just some annoying human after all?"

"No, my love," he denied, his tone light but sincere. "You were always a rather remarkable creature."

"Remember when I grabbed that chair and tried to break the glass before they dragged me away? Looking back, I was quite reckless. That was hardly what I'd call remarkable."

“Reckless? Perhaps,” he admitted with fondness. "Yet I found your courage most admirable."

"Admirable? Me, wildly swinging a chair around like a lunatic? I was about to make a complete fool of myself, and you consider that admirable?"

The corners of his mouth twitched upward even more. "Yes. In a world that has grown accustomed to turning a blind eye, you chose to confront that which you deemed unjust. Such defiance... such resolve... it revealed the very essence of your being."

You looked down at his hand, still tracing soft patterns along your abdomen. "Well, when you put it like that, it doesn't sound so ridiculous, does it?"

"Such an act was anything but ridiculous. You brought change to what had remained static for millennia. In you, I glimpsed... the first ray of hope I had known since the dawn of dreams."

Your cheeks flushed as you shifted deeper into the pillows. "Even when my heroic moment was nothing more than a chair and blind fury?" You paused thoughtfully, a soft hum escaping your throat once more. "The chair-wielding hero and the Dream King. Quite the dramatic pair, aren't we?"

His visage filled with admiration. "And now... we are three."

Your heart fluttered like a butterfly, wild and free. "And she gets to hear the tale of how her father met her mother. What a wonderful bedtime story that would make."

His fingers spread further across your covered belly, tracing the imperceptible rhythm of the baby's stirring, growing inside. "And she shall weave stories of her own, as the Princess of the Dreaming, a bridge between realms mortal and eternal."

"Who would have imagined that from that day in the basement, we'd find ourselves here, together in your castle, with a child on the way?"

He regarded you quietly for a moment, his gaze filled with an unspoken gratitude. "You have given me the most precious of gifts imaginable, treasures beyond measure. Your heart… and a child."

"And I would face a thousand Corinthians, a million Desires, and an infinite number of Hecates if it meant staying with you, where I belong. That is never going to change, for as long as this mortal life grants me."

"Then allow me to be worthy of your love and forgiveness. To guide you through the realm of dreams that was barred to you for so long. Let me care for my Queen... and our Little Star."

Your body trembled with excitement, your teeth gleaming in the dim light as you giggled. "I want nothing more. Words can't express how happy this makes me."

Your hand fell to your side, but his remained still, placed above your womb. No sand was needed—his voice alone served as the enchanted key, low and powerful, enveloping you like a protective haven. “Sleep, my beautiful Y/N.”

Your eyelids fell softly shut, your breathing deep and steady. "Morpheus?" you called, your voice barely audible.

"Tell me, my love."

Hovering between wakefulness and sleep, your body floating weightlessly, you felt compelled to share your thoughts, knowing that Morpheus would hear them regardless of your state of consciousness.

"Our daughter is going to adore you."

Deep within your being, you sensed an inexplicable connection between the developing life inside you and Morpheus, an authentic bond that surpassed the typical biological limitations of early pregnancy, as if your child already possessed an awareness of and longing for her father's presence.

Exhaustion finally claimed you as you drifted back into the realm outside, your mind surrendering to its gentle embrace. Slipping into slumber, Morpheus' resonant voice gradually faded from distinct utterances to otherworldly whispers, eventually becoming one with the ambient essence of the Dreaming.

"And I shall spend every waking moment of your existence ensuring you know the depth of devotion the King of Dreams holds for you both."

You stretched your arms gracefully as you traversed the polished floor of your chamber, your bare feet silent against the cool surface while your nightgown swayed elegantly at knee-length. After completing your morning ablutions, your skin carried a subtle fragrance from your bath, and your slightly damp hair felt like strands of satin against your skin.

Stepping onto the balcony, you were greeted by the mystical dreaming sky and verdant landscape, their beauty even more enchanting than the previous evening. The Dreaming was full of life, rich and prosperous, in a way you hadn't seen for quite a while.

The sound of beating wings could be heard in the distance, growing louder as the familiar, magnificent animal approached from the horizon. The wind stirred around you, and you watched the dragon descending, gliding elegantly before your balcony with its golden scales shimmering beneath the dreamlight. You smiled warmly at the majestic beast, who acknowledged your presence with a gentle dip of its head before continuing its patrol of the realm.

You ran your hands along the parapet, feeling the cool, solid marble beneath your fingers. This was real, you had truly returned to the realm of dreams in physical form, fully awake and present. The air carried the mingled scents of moonflowers, fresh grass, and sea salt. Soft chants and lullabies floated through the æther, accompanied by delicate chimes that seemed to ring in celebration.

Then, a presence rippled behind you, heralding the arrival of the monarch himself. You spun around with enthusiastic energy, grinning in delight as Morpheus came into view. His dark presence was framed by white curtains, billowing around him like dancing silk, mirroring your recent dream.

He was breathtaking, regal and powerful, his eyes like twin pools of celestial marvels.

You moved instinctively toward him, arms outstretched as you rushed to embrace him, pressing your lips to his with passionate fervor. Morpheus made a soft sound of surprise before yielding into the kiss, his fingers weaving gently through your hair.

"Hi," you whispered breathlessly, rising on tiptoes as you clung to his shoulders.

His hold was strong, hands now pressing against the small of your back, requiring minimal effort from you to stay upright.

“How are you feeling, my love?”

Reluctantly pulling away, you placed your palms around his neck, fingers toying with the back of his dark locks. "You worked a miracle, I can't remember the last time I woke up without morning sickness."

A satisfied smile graced Morpheus' features. "You find yourself in my realm now. It seems the Dreaming itself embraces our child, offering its protection."

"It's not just the Dreaming, it's you. I can't explain it, but I feel this peace inside me... and I know it isn't mine alone."

"Then it shall be my greatest pleasure to attend to both of your needs."

Your mouth crashed against his again, your body inching closer as your inhibitions dissolved. "Good. Because right now, I simply cannot stay away from you. And our little one seems to agree."

"I am yours entirely," he breathed. "And I will remain by your side for all of existence."

The air filled with nothing but gentle melodies; lips meeting in tender kisses, sighs, and rustling clothing. His mouth traced a path down your neck with feather-light touches, each kiss softer than the last, until reaching the delicate slope of your shoulder. His fingers found the strap of your nightgown, lowering it with care—your heart fluttering, breath growing shallow as your eyes closed in pleasure.

For weeks, you had longed to feel him close to you, to hear the low, rich timber of his voice, and to experience his devotion anew. Now here he was, standing before you in all his splendor, treating you as if you were the most precious being across all worlds.

"I heard your voice that night, my love."

His statement pierced through your thoughts like lightning, rendering you temporarily awestruck as your mind struggled to comprehend its significance.

"My voice?"

"It cut through the endless void I had created, more beautiful than any dream I have ever woven."

"But I'm only human,

And I bleed when I fall down,

I'm only human, and I crash and I break down,

Your words in my head, knives in my heart,

You build me up and then I fall apart,

Cause I'm only human.”

Through the dazzling stage lights that illuminated the room, you had caught a glimpse of a dark, statuesque silhouette in the blurry mist. Your rational mind attempted to dismiss it as nothing more than a trick of the light, born from your desperate wishes and hopeful heart.

"You were there…? I thought I had imagined it."

"You did not. I heard every word, felt all of it."

"I was hoping you would."

His lips pressed against your skin, his nose inhaling its fresh scent. "You are far more than merely human, my heart. In fact, I wish to prove it to you.”

"Morpheus," his name escaped like a prayer, like a spell you wished to bind to you forever. "I—"

"Yes," his answer came with absolute certainty. He knew precisely what you wanted, and he would give you far more than you could ever dream of asking for.

Your body trembled with anticipation as his lips traced their journey back up, finding yours once more. “Say my name again… and again.”

"I could speak your name all day, Morpheus."

“Again.”

“Morpheus.”

“More, my love. It is pure music when spoken by these perfect lips of yours.”

And so you obliged, between passionate kisses, breathing his name over and over with growing enthusiasm. "I really want you. I need you."

"You shall have me. Every fragment of my being, for all of eternity."

Morpheus' sentence hinted at something big; a love that would stretch far beyond the years at your disposal. While mortality meant your time was finite, the prospect of living forever had begun to intrigue you with each passing day. Hob's proposition of eternal life, the chance to share endless days with Morpheus and your child, held an increasingly compelling appeal that you could no longer dismiss.

For now, however, your thoughts were consumed only by the Lord of Dreams, the sovereign of your heart.

Suddenly, as your kisses became more insistent, a luminous golden light emanated from your hands where they rested against his chest. The same glowing energy that had formed in your previous nightly adventures, the very force which had brought you to the Book of Paradoxes, now returned with heightened force, extending along your arms in intricate, vein-like patterns of radiant filaments.

"Oh!"

"Y/N?"

You took a step backward, staring at your hands in visible apprehension, as he observed in silent contemplation. "Right, about this... I haven't told you yet."

"I am aware of this development," he replied. “My love, you—”

"Wait, don't. I don't know what's going to happen. Maybe... maybe you should stay away from me until it stops."

While there was no evidence suggesting your power could be dangerous, given its apparent role in healing the Dreaming’s wounds and escorting you to prophetic knowledge, its true nature was still undefined. Though Hob had no adverse effects after coming into contact with it in the Waking World, you couldn't completely dismiss the possibility of unforeseen implications.

But Morpheus would not be deterred, his face set with resolute purpose. His cool hands reached for yours, fingers gliding along your skin until his own began to shimmer with gold.

"This energy, this light... it stems from pure goodness itself. You cannot harm me."

"But… I still don't understand what it truly is."

"It has always resided in you. Slumbering beneath the surface. A power as old as your very existence." He cupped your face, his thumb caressing beneath your eye as your irises sparkled with incandescent fire. "You possess such exquisite radiance. You look so beautiful, my love."

"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."

"So Astra was right… this power isn't coming from the baby, is it?"

"Our daughter has awakened something that was latent, something that has always been yours: Your kindness shining like a beacon, your outstanding bravery, and the wisdom in your words bringing solace to those who hear them."

The tendrils of light swirled and transformed, slowly retreating until they settled at your fingertips. “What does this make me?”

"You are who you have always been. The very same mortal who came to me that fateful day. The one who earned my love. The one who now carries my child."

Kissing the crown of your hair, he enveloped your upper arms with gentle care. "You are my Y/N. You belong here, with me."

"I always have. And I always will, until the end of time."

"You are mine, and no one else's."

The golden light faded completely, your skin returning to its natural state. With another kiss, you sealed your promise of infinite loyalty and adoration, meant for him and him alone.

"So much has changed in my life since I met you. When I look at you, I see my entire future. You're everything I'll ever need; whether I live forever or remain mortal, it doesn't matter."

"Your courage astounds me, and your spirit is boundless. I shall ensure that every facet of your being remains untarnished, shielding you from the darkness of doubt and uncertainty."

Your fingers moved across his shoulder blades. "I want you to take me, Morpheus. Please… make love to me."

Your words acted like a magical trigger, unleashing something neither of you could contain.

"Then, let me show you pleasures that only I, the King of All Dreams, can offer you.”

Morpheus' gaze turned wild, his eyes darkening with hunger as they took in every inch of you, his lips magnetically drawn to yours. You were entangled like chain links, united like two ends of the same thread.

"There's no other living creature in the entire universe who could compare."

You walked to the bed where the sheets lay disheveled from your night's sleep. He followed close behind, his lips wet and plump, staring at your face as though you were the most exquisite delicacy to savor. You eased onto the mattress, your hand in his, as his knees pressed into the plush surface and advanced toward you.

You parted your legs to welcome him, his coat opening behind. Your eyes met in silent intensity as his palm traced slowly up your thigh, your nightgown following the path upward. A shiver ran through you as he looked at your abdomen, where the subtle curve of your growing belly revealed itself before him.

"You are... truly magnificent."

"If I am magnificent, then you are utterly glorious."

"You are bearing this precious life within you. I am merely a vessel through which this miracle came to be."

"You say that as if it weren't important."

"It is, but this child is unlike any other. You carry a being of extraordinary power, and you do so with remarkable grace."

You laughed. "Please tell me she won't suddenly pop out in a matter of days."

His eyebrow raised in confusion. "’Pop out’?"

"I mean, look at Lyta. She became pregnant one day and went into labor almost immediately."

"She conceived with a ghost in dreams, with time itself bending to the will of my realm. She was under the influence of the Vortex, distorting reality in ways that cannot occur to you."

"Well, that's reassuring. I was a bit worried there for a moment… this is your child we're talking about, after all."

His hands resumed their exploration, coming to your chest, your skin warming at the cool contact. “But she is also yours. We shall witness her journey unfold at her own natural rhythm.”

"That is good to know—ah!"

Your body quivered as he reached your breasts, the soft material of your attire grazing your nipples as it gathered around your collarbones. Morpheus' throat bobbed at the sight, your peaks hardening instantly in the cool air.

“Morpheus—”

“Look at you,” he murmured teasingly. “I have barely touched you, my love. And already your body trembles beneath my hands."

"I need more," you purred. "Give it to me, Morpheus."

His temples met yours, sharing the intimate space where adoring sighs met. "Tell me. What fantasies shall I bring to life for you?"

"Just… keep going. Touch every part of me."

"Mh."

Delighting in your need, Morpheus moved lower, leaving your breasts neglected and yearning for his attention. “Perhaps I should begin with these delectable legs of yours.”

His hands slid sensually up your thighs, pausing to rest at your hips, deliberately avoiding where you ached for him the most.

"Or perhaps, this." He caressed your waist, the gesture loving rather than lustful as he finally made direct contact with your swelling. "Here where my creation stirs, a testament of what we have made together."

"I can't wait to see you holding her. The mere thought makes my heart soar."

"For now, I can hold our child through you. Though I suspect her mother has... other needs at this moment."

You exhaled shakily. "As much as I like this... yes. You're driving me crazy."

"Would you prefer I move my hands... higher, my love?"

At last, his palms enclosed around your breasts, caressing them with profound reverence, holding them as if they were precious jewels meant for eternal worship. When his thumbs brushed against the rigid tips, an electric shock surged through your form, intensified by weeks of separation and your heightened sensitivity. His movements were unhurried and precise, setting your nerves ablaze as your impatience mounted at an unbearable speed.

You moaned, your lower lip caught between your teeth. "Y-yes. Exactly like that."

“You are a masterpiece,” he expressed. "Your hair is like molten sunlight."

Remnants of light cascaded along your tresses, flowing downward until they merged into your heart.

“Your neck, so elegant and graceful… a column of pure beauty.”

He punctuated each word with a new kiss, beginning at your hairline and trailing his affections down your cheek before returning to your throat.

“And your breasts… perfection incarnate. Like ripe fruit waiting to be plucked.”

Your heart thundered, its fierce rhythm pounding in your ears.

“Please—”

“Allow your King to take care of you.”

His lips closed around one peak, savoring it with sweet abandon. Gentle, wet sounds were produced as his mouth released and reclaimed each nipple, his desire for you insatiable. You moaned again, your head falling back, fingers clutching the sheets for support. Your skin burned with rosy patches blooming across your body, each sigh and gasp urging him onward.

His measured, languid kisses and licks upon your nipples were earth-shattering, a sensation beyond description.

“You are a temptation I cannot resist,” he said hoarsely, his lips descending, where moments ago his hands had wandered. “So soft. So perfect. Made for me.”

He kissed along your stomach, lingered at your navel, and traced the stretching muscles underneath. "Our child. She dreams even now, fragile as a newly formed star, yet far more formidable than we can imagine."

You stroked his hair, noticing how his right hand grasped your knee, guiding your legs further apart. "She is the daughter of the Lord of Dreams. Of course she'll become invincible."

"And with you as her mother, no being would dare stand against her."

"Ah!"

Your hips jerked and twisted as his middle and forefinger captured your clit, still covered by the thin layer of black cotton. He moved them in tentative circles, causing you to writhe and groan, the amethysts above glittering and chiming like magical bells in response.

His fingers curled under the elastic bands, holding their position. “May I?”

With a mere thought, he could have made the garment vanish into a swirling cloud of sand, no questions asked, leaving you bare and exposed without preambles.

"I love how thoughtful you are with me, but you can do anything, Morpheus. Right now... I just want you to take the damn thing off and make me scream."

A deep, guttural growl rumbled in his chest as his lips pressed against your inner thigh in appreciation, his gaze perpetually fixed on yours. Holding your panties on both sides, he slid them down your hips excruciatingly slowly, trailing the silken fabric along your legs and past your ankles. The motion was sinuous and erotic, yet incredibly grounding and absolutely right.

Letting the undergarment drop to the floor, Morpheus beheld your form with such zeal that for a moment, words failed him entirely. You were like a sacred sanctuary, an unyielding storm that bends but never breaks, a goddess carved in time and space. You were living poetry, a flame that set his endless world alight.

No sculptor's chisel nor painter's brush could capture the spectacle laid out upon these celestial sheets. Your chest rose and fell more rapidly, the nightgown still bunched above your breasts, leaving them bared. Your clit pulsed with irrepressible urgency, beckoning him to feast upon the divine offering in front of him, like a pearl in moonlight.

And so, drawn by your silent invitation, Morpheus lowered himself to your center, his tongue ravenous to taste. Your eyes rolled shut, head pressed into the pillow, your legs quaking as your fingers wove through his hair. He was relentless, his tongue exploring and consuming, one hand settling protectively over your abdomen as the other gripped your thigh.

"A-ah! Morpheus, I... wait—"

You were already about to tumble over the edge, faster than you had thought possible. He didn't cease, merely responding with a deep "Mmh" while increasing both pressure and pace. You cried out, gripping his hair as pleasure-filled moans escaped your lips, your voice climbing higher.

It crashed over you like an unstoppable cyclone, your orgasm bursting forth unrestrained and overwhelming in its raw power. Your body tensed and shuddered as his mouth coaxed every wave of pleasure, from the apex of euphoria to the sweet, lingering aftershocks.

Spent and breathless, you collapsed onto the bed, your limbs heavy and tingling. Your cheeks tinted with a deep scarlet, your hands covering your face in shy embarrassment.

Your voice emerged muffled, barely audible through your fingers. "I'm so sorry..."

"Why do you apologize, my love?" he asked with a hint of amusement.

"I didn't mean to finish so quickly."

With a gentle smile, he grasped your wrists and moved your hands away from your face, revealing your wide, teary eyes. "You are exquisite in your vulnerability, my sweet."

"I am not," you pouted, lips forming a delicate frown.

"You deserve every moment of pleasure. After all, I am the King of Dreams - it is my privilege to fulfill your deepest longings. To care for you as I could not during our time apart. And now that you have returned to me, I shall ensure you want for nothing."

A peaceful sigh escaped you as your body surrendered into contentment. "You always know exactly what to say."

"And I will tell you more, praise you, cherish you, through all the days to come."

You pulled him down into a kiss, tasting your own essense on his lips as he positioned himself above you, your legs parted on either side. You could feel his hardness pressing against your core, yet he remained patient, awaiting your consent, relinquishing all control.

Your hand brushed along his shoulder, sliding over the thin material of his shirt until reaching its edge. You let your fingers slip under the hem, grazing his lean muscles, pale skin against ebony clothes, which contracted at the slight caress. Then, you deftly undid his trousers, his manhood meeting your touch as you proceeded, proud and erect for you to receive.

"Do you think I will be a good mother?" you asked him, wrapping your palm around his shaft, finally free from its restraint.

"You are going to be extraordinary. Of that, I have no doubt. Mh—"

"I could never do this with anyone but you."

Directing his length to your entrance, you held him there for a heartbeat, balanced at the threshold.

His patience had worn thin, his body trembling with restraint. “I must confess, I find my resolve has reached its end. In fact, I cannot wait any longer.”

You grinned, moistening your lips as he eased himself between your folds, just enough for his tip to be enveloped by your heat.

“I wish to claim you as mine. Will you grant me this?”

"Morpheus, honestly!” You laughed, overcome with infinite love for this being between your legs as you clutched the shawl collar of his coat. “What more do you need me to say? I'm already taking you inside me and have no intention of stopping. Just do it, claim me. There's nothing I want more than this, more than you."

At that, Morpheus' resistance finally crumbled, leaving only an insatiable craving for you and his own physical need. With a rough, powerful thrust, he entered your body to the hilt, making you whimper and convulse. His pelvis established a rhythmic motion, tranquil at first, only to inevitably quicken at the incessant sound of your moans.

Your legs wrapped around his waist, meeting his movements as your lips and tongues melded together in a battle of dominance, one neither of you was truly willing to win.

“Tell me, my love. Is this to your satisfaction?”

You were in absolute ecstasy, your inner walls clenching and tightening around him with each thrust, sweeping away every ounce of decorum. "Yes! You are incredible. Harder!"

"Harder?"

"Please."

His length twitched and pulsed, joining with you like two pieces of one whole. "If that is what you wish."

Morpheus obliged, shifting his position before driving into you with breathtaking force. His arms held you with fierce desperation, as if you might dissolve into mist and leave him stranded in desolate loneliness. He rocked against you with deep, commanding movements, his ragged breaths and growls filling your ear.

You were the light that pirouetted through his shade, divinity wrapped in mortal form. He wanted to map constellations on your skin, every inch of your being, immersing himself in your brilliance.

“So tight, so wet. All mine.”

"I absolutely am. Forever and always. I've been yours from the beginning, even when I didn't know you; when you were nothing more than a fairy story."

He slowed momentarily, sweeping the hair from your face, shaking with bridled eagerness. "You have brought me to my knees. Even my realm holds no sway in your presence."

You inhaled, adjusting your position, pushing your legs further up around his hips and crossing your ankles against his lower back.

He resumed, pushing in and out of you with demanding insistence. "Your voice echoes through the endless halls of my castle. Love me, crave me, call out for me."

"Yes, yes! I love you, Morpheus. I love you so much. I'm so close—I can feel it building. Please don't stop."

"I shall see you through to the very end," he promised. "Let me feel every tremor, every wave of your ecstasy. Give yourself to me and I shall take you beyond the confines of dreams."

"You do that every day, even in absence—ngh! Ah, Morpheus!"

"Yes... surrender everything to me."

The wet sounds mingled with the crystal chimes as you both teetered on the edge of rapturous release. His fingers found their way back to your chest, teasing your nipple with a delicate squeeze. As that familiar tension coiled at your core, you reached down to rub your clit, synchronizing with the rhythm of his thrusts until the combined sensations built into an exquisite crescendo that would utterly shatter you.

"Seeing you writhe in my arms, pleasuring yourself before me... you are nothing short of sublime."

“Oh….!”

And then it arrived, just as powerful as the first, a climax that made your toes curl and eyes shut in exhilaration. Your hand closed around his, holding it against your breast as your body gave in, tightening around him in pulsing contractions.

His hips bucked wildly, his own limit approaching. “I—I… I-”

"Do it, please!"

With that, his body heated up as his pleasure erupted forward like a cosmic flare. He stared at you, presenting the most splendid sight of the Dream Lord lost in pure delight, jerking and filling you with the warmth of his seed. He was gorgeous, enticing in every way conceivable, your fingers still circling your sensitive nub to savor the last ripples of your orgasm, until you could take no more.

When at last you both stilled, a peaceful silence fell between you, wrapped in your embrace and sharing gentle kisses. You listened attentively to the soundscape outside, from the distant dragon's passage to the dream choruses and soft turn of pages.

"That was… wow," you revealed, panting.

"Was it?"

"Mm-hmm. Amazing."

"You are marvelous, my Queen," he intoned. "Making love to you is my greatest indulgence."

"’Queen’," you mused. "I rather like that."

“You are. My magnificent goddess of light. My everything.”

Shifting to sit up, his softening length slipping from you, you took his face between your hands and looked at him with the brightest of smiles. "I don't know how I became worthy of your love, but I wouldn't trade this life for any other."

"Worth is hardly sufficient to describe you, my love. You would bring even the mightiest beings to submission."

"I don't care for other beings, I only want to be with you."

"You have me. I am yours, irrevocably."

You guided his hand to rest upon your abdomen, pressing your lips to his shoulder through the woolen material of his coat. Your nightgown pooled delicately at your waist as he stroked your hair, his fingers grazing your neck while keeping his head against yours.

In the tranquil moments that followed, quiet spoke more than words as the Dreaming bore witness to your souls inexorably intertwined, a new life flourishing and linking the mortal and immortal realms as one.

"Bloody hell, you're joking, right?"

You chuckled, shaking your head, holding the phone between your ear and shoulder as you washed mugs. "I assure you, I am not. Why would I jest about such a matter?"

"How is it you've got every bloody mystical creature in creation flockin' to your doorstep?"

"Trust me, I haven't a clue. But honestly, at this point, I couldn't care less."

"Well, at least he's got his marbles back in order. It feels like a great stone's been lifted off my chest, if I'm being honest."

"I'm sorry for worrying you so much."

"Don't give it another thought, Shortcake. Not like you went looking for all that rubbish to begin with."

After turning off the water and drying your hands, you returned to the living room. "I honestly don't know what I would have done these past few weeks without you."

"Listen love, you can always count on me, yeah? No questions needed."

Lying on the couch, you grimaced faintly. "I know. I'm incredibly grateful to have you in my life."

“I heard that.”

"Hmm? Heard what?"

"You're not feeling well again, are you? That little noise you made there, clear as day."

Stroking your stomach, you let out a wry laugh. "I've felt dreadful ever since I came back. I suspect it's my little one making her displeasure known."

"I have no clue how all this dream business works, but couldn't you have stayed with him for a bit longer?"

"Oh, he wanted me to. In fact, he asked me to stay until the baby is due."

"And you went and turned him down? That's a bit of a bold move."

You laughed. "Despite his brooding, he was quite understanding. Even though I could stay there without time affecting our world much, I can't just return with a newborn out of thin air. Besides, I have work to accomplish here and now. He accepted to let me get my stuff in order back home, at least for today."

"Right then, makes sense. Though I'll admit, I’m a bit surprised he didn't put up more of a fuss, knowing him as I do."

"He's changed, Hob. He's truly giving it his all."

“I can see that.”

"It would be in your best interest, and that of our child, to remain here in The Dreaming. I am... concerned for your wellbeing."

"Morpheus, you know I love being here with you, but I have responsibilities in the Waking World."

Though expected, your answer still made him frown. "As you know, the rules of time and space bend differently here in my domain. You need not sacrifice your mortal obligations."

A grin tugged at the corners of your lips as you fixed the collar of his coat, brushing your nose against his cheek. "I know, but how would I explain the baby to anyone else? Using a cryptic pregnancy excuse isn't a solution."

You could see the disappointment forming on his face, his typical moping cat look returning.

"Okay, listen," you said, taking his hands in yours. "I love that you want to be there for me throughout the entire pregnancy, it means more to me than words can express. You and the Dreaming are my home now, that cannot be denied.”

"I fear your mind is made up on this matter."

"It is, but I want you to be part of this journey. You're the father, I would never exclude you."

After a thoughtful pause, Morpheus relented. "Very well. But I propose a compromise, my love."

"What kind of compromise?"

"I would ask two things of you: that you allow Matthew to watch over you when I cannot be present... and that you return to me each night in The Dreaming. Not in slumber, but in your conscious form."

You nodded. "That sounds reasonable. But I can't travel between realms on my own. Are you suggesting you'll come fetch me yourself?"

“Yes.”

Your eyes grew wide with astonishment. "You would do that? Come for me every single day? Accompany me back and forth when I have work and commitments?"

"Such a simple task means nothing. I would traverse the very fabric of existence for you."

"You're sweet, but I would never want to take you away from the Dreaming. I know there's still so much to rebuild after all that happened."

Like you, Morpheus proved to be equally stubborn. "You need not concern yourself with that. I simply wish for you to live the life you choose, both in the Waking World and here, with me."

"Even if that means dividing your time between realms?"

"Time spent in your presence is never wasted, my love."

You kissed him, nearly mimicking Ella's happy dance while restraining your elation, clinging to his shoulders as joy sparkled in your eyes. Still, Morpheus' satisfaction shone through in his smile, holding you in place.

"Then, my King, I’d say we have an agreement."

He drew you closer by your waist, his spirit visibly brightening. "Excellent."

"Oi, love? You still with me?"

"Ah, yes, sorry. I was lost in thought for a moment."

"Right then, gonna let you get some rest now. Give me a shout if you need anything, yeah?"

You stretched out on the couch, gently rotating your ankles. "Of course, thank you so much, Hob."

“Oh, and Y/N…. I meant to ask….”

“Yes?”

"Have you run into any other odd characters lately? Besides all them supernatural beings you've been telling me about."

You rubbed your chin pensively. "Odd? Well, I've seen plenty of weird things, but nothing particularly unusual comes to mind. Why do you ask?"

"Ah, well..."

You waited patiently as he hesitated before continuing, his response coming as a rushed and obviously dishonest explanation. "Nevermind then. Just me rambling on like a right old fool."

"Wait, what—?"

"I'll be checking up on you soon."

The call ended abruptly before you could inquire further, leaving you contemplating his unexpected behavior. His tone had carried a distinct note of concern - something that, given your recent experiences, warranted further investigation.

You started browsing through TV programs to occupy your evening, barely paying attention to what was playing on the screen. The more you contemplated the situation, the more questions arose about the implications of Hob’s allusion.

You sat up straight, the movie in the background now forgotten. "That was peculiarly strange, even for him."

To complicate matters even more, the next workday began with quite an unexpected turn of events.

You had just settled at your desk and powered up your equipment, preparing the day's schedule and upcoming executive briefing when a sudden commotion disrupted the studio's serene atmosphere. A sharp cry was followed by the forceful closing of a door, echoing through the corridor and making your skin crawl. Upon investigating, you observed several colleagues congregating near the restroom entrance, worriedly looking at the scene before them.

Confused, you tentatively approached the assembly, Oliver's voice rising above the hushed whispers. "Ella, sweetheart. Please, let's talk about this."

Amanda was standing behind the CEO with a brewed cup of coffee in her hand. As you moved beside her, you asked, "What's happening here, Amy? Is Ella all right?"

The woman sighed, shaking her head. "I have no clue. She just bolted to the bathroom like lightning, and I'm pretty sure she was crying. What on earth could be wrong this early in the morning?"

Oliver continued to knock, but no reply came from the other side. "Ella, I know this is difficult, but please. Don't shut me out."

As the tension in the area visibly escalated, Amanda intervened with a rough throat-clearing sound. "Everyone, let's give them some space, shall we?" She prompted the group to disperse, making sweeping motions as if creating an invisible shield around the CEO. "This isn't something we should eavesdrop on. Come on, back to work."

Although they all seemed deeply concerned about Ella's state of mind, after exchanging a few silent glances, they eventually returned to their respective posts, with only Freya staying behind. She was visibly distressed, letting out a deep breath as she gave your wrist a light squeeze. "Please keep me updated, and don't hesitate to call if you guys need anything."

You nodded firmly, watching her walk away with increasing apprehension. Meanwhile, Oliver sighed in frustration, resting his forehead against the door in complete resignation, his fist bumping softly upon the wooden surface.

Amy gave your shoulder an encouraging pat and smiled warmly before taking her leave, the coffee now cold, her typically sophisticated poise evident as she departed. The moment felt ominous, leaving you uncertain whether to intervene.

Taking a deep breath, you reached out, brushing your hand over Oliver's elbow, cocking your head questioningly. "Oliver? Maybe this is none of my business, but... what's going on?"

He closed his eyes, removing his glasses and pinching the bridge of his nose. "I was hoping for a different outcome."

"I don't understand."

"She... she received some bad results, Y/N."

"Bad results?"

"Wait, she didn't tell you?"

"She hasn't mentioned any of this to me. Medical results? Is that what you're referring to?"

He paced anxiously back and forth, massaging the back of his neck. "We’ve been trying for so long to…" He faltered, his words trailing away into stillness.

"I had no idea she was sick. Is this serious?"

"It’s not physically dangerous for her, but... emotionally, that's another matter entirely. She had such high hopes, we both did. I just don't know what to do now."

You rubbed your temple. "I'm a bit confused."

"Y/N, I hate to put this on you, but I could really use your help. You're the only one I can turn to."

"What can I do?"

He swiveled toward the door, his eyes red and distraught. "I think I’m the last person she wants to see at the moment. Perhaps she'll listen if you talk to her."

“I can try.”

Oliver stepped aside, muttering a "thank you," and allowed you to take his place by the door. His breathing was unsteady as you gently knocked several times, the bathroom remaining silent, with no word spoken from inside.

After a brief pause, you announced your presence, calling your friend quietly. "Ella? It's me. May I come in?"

You listened at the entrance, catching the faint sound of footsteps on the other side. When you heard the lock click, careful to keep the hallway hidden from view, you exchanged a knowing look with Oliver, which he answered with a tight smile. Ella didn't appear, but her gesture came as an invitation, meant only for you to take.

You stepped into the restroom, securing the door behind you. Ella stood hunched over one of the sinks, her blonde hair falling forward to obscure her face as soft sobs escaped her lips.

Your heart ached with compassion as you placed a gentle hand on her back. "Ella, please tell me what this is about."

"He didn't say anything?" she asked, sniffling.

"No. I think he wanted you to tell me yourself."

She shook her head vigorously, tears streaming down her face. "I shouldn't be telling you this, not now."

"Why not? If you're worried I'll panic at the news, please don't be. Whatever it is, I'll need to face it eventually, and I refuse to let you go through this alone."

The more she tried to speak, the more her desperation took over. "No, it's not that. I know how you are, I don't want you feeling guilty about my situation."

"Guilty? Why?"

"Because you always put others before yourself. I can’t ruin your happiness."

You turned her to face you, brushing the unkempt hair aside, her eyes now rimmed with smudged mascara. "Stop. Just tell me already."

A ghost of a smile tugged at her lips. "I'm your boss, remember? You don't get to give me orders."

"We stopped being boss and employee the moment I walked through that door. Think of it like we're back in secondary school, hiding in the bathroom and crying over our problems."

She hiccupped, pressing her hand to her mouth. "Sometimes I wish we could just go back to those days. It seemed so much easier then, when all we had to worry about was which dress to buy or how awful our dates happened to be."

You chuckled, rubbing her shoulders in a soothing motion. "Come on, tell me what's wrong."

She looked at you with trembling lips, fresh tears welling up in the corners of her eyes and spilling down her cheeks in rivulets. "Promise me you won't start blaming yourself."

"I don't even know what you think I should feel guilty about."

"Fine, okay." She inhaled shakily, her nails absently scratching at her hand. "Oliver and I... we've been trying to have a baby for quite some time now. It just hasn't worked."

Oh.

"At first, I thought it was low probability, bad luck or incorrect hormone calculations. But after a while, we suspected something wasn't right."

The realization struck you like a thunderbolt, draining all color from your face.

"Oh, for heaven's sake! See? I knew you'd react this way!"

"I didn’t say anything," you protested.

"That's not necessary, your face says it all. Y/N, I really can't handle this right now."

"Okay okay, I’m sorry. So you underwent medical tests," you concluded. "And received the results today?"

She grimaced as all her attempts to contain herself proved futile. "I'm not physically able to have children. I don't really understand all the terminology in these tests, but… all I know is that my body is broken, and I can't get pregnant, Y/N. Not now, probably not ever."

The breath rushed from your lungs, rendering you paralyzed on the spot. "Please don't say that. You're not broken."

"No? Then what am I? I just wanted to have a family with the man I love. To give Oliver the child he's always wanted. What's left for us now? What am I supposed to offer him?"

"Your heart, Ella. He married you because he loves you for who you are, not because he saw you as a means to have children."

She let out a bitter laugh. "But that's also why he married me! We talked about this years ago. We both wanted the same future; to settle down, have kids, build our family together alongside our business. And now it's just us, with no hope of growing larger. Because I'm bloody defective."

"Stop it, you're not some malfunctioning machine. And regardless of what these test results say, you can't give up hope like this."

She crumpled against the wall, crouching down. "What do you suggest then? That I keep deceiving myself? Pretend the problem isn't there?"

You knelt before her, taking her hands in a firm grip. "No, but many women have conceived even when doctors said they couldn't. There are countless stories like this, Ella. Medical conditions can be unpredictable. Just because you can't become a mother right now doesn't mean it's impossible forever."

"You didn't even see the results."

"I don't need to."

She scoffed. "This isn't the time to make light of your ‘gut feeling’ again."

"When have I ever joked about it? After everything you've witnessed, do you really think I'm making fun of you about something this dire?"

She pondered your words, her eyes flickering with uncertainty.

"Ella, I've learned so much this year. I've experienced things beyond what anyone would believe possible, and I fell in love in the most unconventional way, with someone who makes every single day of my life a wonder. Literally."

Her eyes and nose were an angry red. "I know you're experiencing things beyond my understanding, and I'm happy for you. But I'm not like you—I'm just ordinary. My life is mundane, filled with daily struggles."

"And you think mine isn't? There might be some magic in my life, but it's not as if everything automatically transforms into sunshine and butterflies. A car nearly hit me head-on a few nights ago, and that could have cost me more than I dare to think about."

Her eyes widened in shock, her back straightening. "Wait, what??"

Gently easing her back down to a seated position, you steered the conversation back to its original focus, not wanting to derail the matter at hand with tales of your own mishaps. "The bottom line is, life is a rollercoaster, Ella. Sometimes we rise, sometimes we fall, but we always find our way back up again."

"What if I truly can't have children? What then?”

"There are different paths you can explore."

She sighed, running her fingers through her hair. "I know we could adopt, but I really want to have Oliver's baby. Does that make me selfish?"

"No, it only makes you human. And as such, you feel."

When her gaze lifted, transfixed and solemn as she peered into your eyes with rapt attention, her fingers lay still against her thighs. She was perfectly motionless, absorbing every word with an almost trance-like focus.

"Here you were, suffering in silence, yet you still managed to be genuinely excited about my pregnancy."

"Of course I did. I am happy for you, truly… I only wish I could share it with you. How wonderful would that be, going through such a miracle together, watching our children become best friends?"

Rising to your feet, you assisted Ella to a standing position as she regained her precarious balance. You proceeded to dampen a cloth and cleanse her face, carefully removing the traces of mascara before they set. "Now, that would be such a wonderful dream, wouldn't it?"

"Yes," she replied, her eyes still set on your face. "It would be one hell of a legacy."

"Like I said, don't let these test results define your future. Do more checks if necessary. Keep trying. Be the same, exceptional woman that I always admired, the one Oliver is so desperately waiting for outside."

Gradually, her composure returned as the tears subsided and her trembling ceased. She regained her professional posture, examining herself in the mirror while smoothing her hair and adjusting her suit with practiced precision.

"Then I suppose I should give it my all, right?"

"That's exactly what I want to hear. Go to your husband, talk to him. We'll keep producing, creating, and transforming; the fashion world as much as our own lives. Keep your head high and stay confident that everything you wish for will find its way to you."

Finally, a wide grin spread across her lips, contrasting sharply with her earlier despair. "When did we switch roles? You’ve become so wise I can barely recognize you. Who are you and what did you do to Y/N?"

"I told you. Everything changed for me last summer."

"Well then. If I ever meet your boyfriend again, I'd love to shake his hand."

Smoothing her attire, she strode toward the exit, her stilettos clicking crisply against the porcelain tiles. As she disengaged the latch and the barrier swung ajar, she paused mid-step, then gracefully rotated to face you one final instance. Her visage reflected tranquility and wonderment, blending into an expression you'd never previously witnessed.

"By the way, Y/N…"

"Hmm?"

She took a measured breath, collecting her thoughts before speaking. "Do you know that you're literally glowing?"

Your brows knitted together in confusion. "Glowing?"

Ella said nothing more, only held her smile as she left you alone in the restroom, the voices outside now muffled by the door. Frozen in place, you glanced down at your hands, observing that the familiar golden luminescence had returned once again. Your skin emanated a radiance reminiscent of candlelight, as glowing streams of energy permeated through the fabric of your shirt.

Then you caught sight of it in your reflection—a spark in your eyes that made you jump in shock. Mouth agape, you blinked several times hoping to see it disappear, shaking your hands as you frantically tried to will the power away.

"No, no, no, no, this can't be happening now. Not here."

You turned your palms upward and applied cold water, waiting for it to take effect. The light began to fade, dissipating like liquid along your skin. Unfortunately, your irises retained their glow, and as you studied them in the mirror, you noticed how they seemed to dance and shift, creating an overlay of color that moved in perfect synchronization with your eye structure.

It took you a good half an hour for them to readjust, the light slowly retracting and melting like glitters scattered in the wind, leaving no trace of its supernatural display.

Throughout the entire workday, you had been more than just on edge; you were practically vibrating with terror. Despite your nerves, the executive briefing proved remarkably productive, and the fact that you managed to remain seemingly calm during the presentation was nothing short of miraculous.

In truth, you feared your awakened abilities would suddenly unlock themselves anew during the meeting, causing you to light up like a human LED in front of the attendees. Fortunately, your physical appearance remained stable with no visible changes, allowing you to keep a properly collected facade.

Ella remained discreet, sending occasional smiles your way. You noticed her and Oliver sharing private conversations during their breaks, exchanging soft touches, loving glances, and brief kisses. Wanting to give them space, you quietly slipped out of the studio at the end of your shift, making your way down the street and across the park.

The breeze ruffled your hair as you breathed in the fragrant scents of nature, reflecting on the day's events and all they entailed. Though you had tried to be supportive in the restroom, Ella's revelation now weighed heavily on your mind, and you deeply regretted sharing your embryo scan. It was difficult to witness her struggling with infertility while your own pregnancy had occurred spontaneously and unexpectedly, without any prior intention or preparation. Her genuine smile and enthusiastic celebration of the news, with that glint of happiness in her eyes, showed what a truly extraordinary person she was.

And in turn, the mere thought left you feeling utterly wretched.

As you rummaged through your bag for your phone, a golden spark emanated from your fingertips and struck the inside, causing it to glimmer momentarily. You stopped walking, raising your hand to observe as the glow rapidly spread from your nails, illuminating your entire palm to your wrist.

"You have got to be kidding me!"

As passersby walked along the treated path, you tucked your hand into your jacket and kept your head low, feeling a strange warmth forming in your eyes again. You ran aimlessly through the park, not watching where you were going, taking random turns down the most deserted walkways you could find. You were distancing yourself quite considerably from the underground station, but with your current condition, being surrounded by rush hour crowds seemed ill-advised.

In the distance, a child pointed toward you as you rushed past, trying to get his mother's attention, who was thankfully absorbed in her phone conversation and failed to notice your hurried form. Your hand tightened into a fist, and the trapped light shone through your jacket, making the fabric appear see-through.

You quickened your pace, desperate to find somewhere to hide, when you nearly collided with someone who had just blocked the way. You were about to stammer an apology and rush past, but then a voice—the most soothing, grounding voice—spoke your name like a balm.

Morpheus.

Your eyes met as he studied you intently, his hands tucked in the pockets of his Waking World attire, his cerulean gaze shifting from your hidden fist to the golden ring in your irises.

“My love.”

Finally pulling your hand free, you extended it toward him with a pleading look. Appearing lost, scared, and confused, your voice cracked with insecurity. "What should I do?"

Without second thought, Morpheus silently took your hand, bringing it to his lips as they brushed against your luminous knuckles. You stared, barely blinking, his presence alone calming your nervousness; the way he brought your hand to his face, guiding it to rest against his cheek, was more comforting and invigorating than any spoken reassurance.

Then your surroundings began to shift. The lush greenery of the park dissolving into opalescent walls and columns, the atmosphere dimming to reveal candlelight dancing through colored glass windows. The soil beneath your feet transformed into marble, while the fresh scent of leaves and resin gave way to mineral undertones, crisp ozone, and the rich fragrances of sandalwood, myrrh, and black amber.

You sighed in relief, brushing your thumb along his cheekbone, as golden filaments floated in the air before erupting into a glittering cloud. The light in your hand dimmed to nothing, leaving your skin with its natural hue.

Just like that, the phenomenon vanished for the second time.

"This could have gone terribly wrong," you said with a wry chuckle. "Thank you for finding me."

"I sensed your anguish rippling through the Dreaming, my love. Your essence called to me across the realms."

"I started glowing like a lamp right in front of my friend at work today, and I'm fortunate it was her who witnessed it rather than someone else. I have no idea what's happening."

"Your light grows, it flows through you now like sand through an hourglass. Though untamed at present, with time and patience, you will learn to bend it to your will."

"What if I cannot control it?"

"The question is not whether you can control it, but how magnificently you shall wield it."

Exhausted, you rested your head against his shoulder, savoring the comfort of his vicinity. "Unlike you, I'm not accustomed to being magical, Morpheus."

"You have always possessed this power within yourself. Your emotions give it strength, and here, in my realm, you may find peace while mastering it."

"Right," you said pensively. "I doubt I could do it in the Waking World. The last thing I need is to accidentally fry all my appliances. Or worse, bring down the entire building."

"I will teach you to harness this power, but for that, you must remain here, in the Dreaming."

"I can't risk becoming a freak show, so… I’ll stay."

You could sense his exultation, almost imperceptible, as his arms tightened around you. "Then, let me guide you through this. Allow me to remain at your side, for as long as you need."

You smiled contentedly as his fingers threaded through your hair, his deep voice a melodic rumble against your ear as you wrapped your arms around his torso. "If you think I'll ever stop needing you, you are deeply mistaken."

The waterfall in Fiddler's Green created a mesmerizing sensory backdrop, your eyes drifting shut as the gentle breeze of the Dreaming whispered across your features and danced through your clothes. Your hands were lifted before you, palms upturned, a frown creasing your forehead.

You grunted, letting your arms drop to your sides. "This is ridiculous. Why does it only come to me when I don't need it, but never when I want it?"

"Such mastery requires time," Morpheus intoned. "Your light moves in synchronicity with your soul."

"I don't know... I've been trying for two hours straight, and I haven't seen even a single spark."

He took a step forward, taking hold of your hands. "My love, do not strain against it. Let it flow as water finds its path, and it will come to you."

You sighed. "It's just... I'm afraid I might accidentally hurt someone, even you."

"Your light flows from a place of love. It cannot bring harm."

"It may be innocuous now, but you mentioned it's growing stronger. And if I can't even make it appear at will, what's going to happen the next time my eyes light up?"

Morpheus' thumbs gently traced the insides of your wrists, anchoring you to the present moment. "Y/N, you will not hurt anyone, so long as your heart remains aligned with compassion. That is your core, my love. It is your truth."

"And if that’s not enough? I don’t come from power. I wasn’t born to rule anything."

"No," he agreed, eyes deep and glinting like pale blue galaxies. "Not to rule, but to change."

You blinked at him, your breath catching as his palm descended to rest against your sternum.

"Your light did not awaken because of error, but because you love, fiercely and selflessly. Do not seek control through fear."

"How should I do it?"

"Close your eyes."

You lowered your eyelids, obedient to his request.

"Now… breathe. Remember the first time you felt it stir."

You recalled the first awakening, occurring in the midst of your separation from the Dream Lord. As Astra began to deteriorate and fade from the Dreaming, the prospect of losing him—as you had lost the one you loved—paired with witnessing the realm's potential collapse, had made your heart clench with unbearable sorrow.

Morpheus leaned forward, his forehead pressing against yours. "There. Do you feel it, my love?”

"Yes..."

It had come during various significant moments: while immersed in the ocean of your private land, and when restoring vitality to Morpheus' mighty creation reduced to dried, rotten scales due to the Endless’ despair. Through this mystical energy, you forged an inexplicable bond with the ancient Book of Paradoxes, revealing transformative wisdom that paved the path to your destined reunion.

But your memory dug deeper, back in time and to that distant day in the basement, when your hand touched Morpheus' through the glass; so close yet so far apart. You had felt it even then, the same warmth expanding through your limbs, permeating your body with liquid gold. It wasn't just a visualization, a metaphor, or a feeling... it was, as you now realized, something far more powerful and significant.

Your eyes pressed tightly shut, golden light blooming from your fingertips at last, soft and pure, spiraling like threads. It wrapped around your joined hands in powerful swirls, your chest lighting up at heart level, where his hand connected with it.

You could see the bright glow expanding. You gasped, eyes flying open. "It worked..."

Morpheus grinned, prideful and ecstatic. "As I knew it would."

The moment he stepped back, you raised your arms with flowing elegance. The light responded to your mental commands, streaming naturally with your movements. It merged seamlessly with your golden bracelets, causing the metal to radiate with an intensity rivaling daylight.

Little by little, the glow dissipated, leaving behind tiny sparkles that settled onto the grass, making it rustle in the wind that formed.

"Your emotions... they are what fuels your light, what gives it power," he explained. "When in doubt, your heart holds the answer."

"Or I can simply think of you, and that will calm everything down," you said with a smile.

He approached again, reaching for your abdomen, where your Little Star was peacefully developing under his amiable care. "Or perhaps that, if you wish."

With an overjoyed squeal, you leapt into his arms, wrapping yourself around him like a vine.

With consistent practice and Morpheus' expert guidance, mastering control over your light became increasingly effortless, though occasional spontaneous outbursts and persistent illumination still occurred on their own. The Dreaming's influence had the power to pacify your nerves, its restorative energy recharging your spirit. Time seemed to move at a languid pace, with both day and night taking on the uncanny quality of a waking dream.

The denizens of the realm were all taking a liking to your physical presence among them, Abel and Cain being particularly overjoyed at the news of your pregnancy. They were elated, vying with one another to shower you with attention and provide you and your unborn child with every imaginable luxury. Their smiles were infectious, as they presented wonderful blends of aromatic tea alongside homemade confections that surpassed any earthly bakery's creations.

Although the Lord of Dreams had previously fathered the ill-fated Orpheus, his son's demigod heritage and mortal upbringing in the Waking World with Calliope meant he never truly inhabited the realm of dreams. Thus, your child, being innately connected to the Dreaming itself, represented an unprecedented and outstanding addition to the domain. Despite being merely a tiny speck of life in your womb, your daughter was already the talk of the dream folk, who considered he a harbinger of renewal and abundance for their world.

In addition to your light training sessions, Morpheus dedicated considerable time to enriching your stay in the Dreaming and making each moment unforgettable. During one such occasion, he led you through unexplored regions of the Palace; a labyrinth of chambers, curated to reflect your personal aesthetic and interests. Every alcove, window seat, and reading nook bore your distinctive imprint, from the arrangement of cushions to the carefully selected books, as though the castle itself had anticipated your arrival and morphed itself accordingly.

The two of you approached an enigmatic entryway that commanded attention, with a majestic door whose towering frame was beautifully carved and decorated with intricate celestial etchings. Golden patterns were covering the surface, reminiscent of swirling cosmic nebulae that danced over the ornate woodwork.

With a regal gesture, Morpheus beckoned you to cross its threshold. "I want you to find your place here. To have a sanctuary made from dreams, where fragments of the Waking World may take root."

Curious, you ventured into the room, your senses overwhelmed by the bright sunlight that filtered through the windows, bathing the space in a welcoming embrace. As your eyes adjusted, you were immediately awestruck by its contents and design, leaving you breathless and incredulous at the amount of detail and consideration that clearly went into its forging.

The room had been neatly arranged into a sophisticated atelier, rivaling any high-end fashion studio in the mortal dimension. An array of elegant bust mannequins stood at attention, while a pristine canvas awaited on a wooden easel. The main workstation displayed an impressive collection of fabrics in unique colors and textures, complemented by an assortment of precious gemstones and professional tools, all carefully curated for your artistic endeavors.

"Morpheus, I..." You stammered. "This is..."

"I understand how important your craft is to you, my love. I wish for you to continue creating, even here, in my realm. Your visions will take shape, and your creativity shall know no bounds."

"I'm at a loss for words. You've given me so much... I don't deserve all this."

His smile had become a near-permanent fixture, rarely fading from his face since you arrived.

"You deserve the universe, my heart. And everything the cosmos has to offer."

"I can barely speak, I... I don't know how to thank you."

"Your happiness is all I require."

Running your fingers across the fabrics displayed on the table, you marveled at their unprecedented quality and softness. Your attention was drawn to an elegantly bound leather notebook positioned discreetly in the corner, its pristine pages awaiting your artistic inspiration.

"Can I really have this room for myself?"

"Everything here belongs to you, and you alone," he reassured in his silken timbre. "Whatever rooms you want, I will create them for you."

Turning to face him, you moved forward with weightless grace, your embroidered dress trailing behind you like a royal gown. "What more could I possibly wish for? Right now, I'd rather have a kiss from my King."

"As many kisses as you wish."

"Don't tempt me like that."

Your lips met his as you emitted a sultry hum, your hands cradling his face on either side. The room filled with the soft echoes of your mouths as a flock of iridescent butterflies drifted through the open windows, their delicate wings catching the light. One butterfly alighted in your hair, transforming into an elegant crystal hairpin that secured a loose strand behind your ear. Another alighted upon your neck, its wings elongating into delicate ribbons that formed an intricate lace choker.

Before you could voice your question, Morpheus answered in advance. "This is a demonstration of what the Dreaming can give you. The realm itself shall be your canvas, transforming your imagination into reality."

You stared at the butterflies with wonderment as they painted a magical path toward the desk. Leaning in, you touched one with your fingertips, causing the delicate creature to pirouette graciously before landing upon your nail, its gossamer legs delicately encircling your skin in a sweet embrace. The wings changed colors in a repeated gradient sequence, rippling across the beautiful membranes.

An unbridled grin lit up your countenance with unrestrained delight. "You know, I was thinking—" you rotated on your heels, hand resting on your abdomen. "—our little one will absolutely love playing here. The Dreaming is truly the most breathtaking playground any child could wish for. And she’s lucky enough to be your daughter."

"It is I who am honored to be the father of this child. She is yours... and mine. The Dreaming is forever changed by her coming."

You kissed his cheek, the butterfly hairpin in your hair scattering rainbows throughout the room, reflections bathing every wall.

In that precious instant, Morpheus moved beyond his mantle as Master of Stories, embodying the dual essence of father and partner, experiencing a sense of wholeness he had never known before—that he had always kept at bay, his pride standing as an obstacle.

And now, those walls had fallen away. For you had become his exception.

Frantic footsteps resounded through the marble hall of the ancient temple. The sky was so bright it needed no sun, its luminosity enveloping the towering structure in natural bloom. Green trees and waterfalls created a paradise-like setting, yet despite this spectacular, mystical vista, Paregoros' mood remained as dark as the blackest night, as barren as the driest desert.

"Wait!"

She stopped abruptly, rolling her eyes, her entire posture exuding irritation. "Don't even try, Damaris."

Damaris sighed, gathering her dress as she descended the stairs. "Look, I understand your perspective."

"Do you? Because from what I recall, you were quite adamant about having her banished."

"We didn't banish her," she pointed out, coming to a stop in front of her. "You know the rules. There was no sign of power in her then, she was just a normal child."

"And now that things have changed, you conveniently want her back? She has built a life for herself in her world. And even beyond it."

Damaris shrugged dismissively. "There was no possible way to foresee this. And besides, you've always distrusted the Endless."

Her voice thundered. "This isn't about Dream, it's about my daughter! I wasn't allowed anywhere near her or the man I loved. You forfeited any right to reclaim her when you left her in the human realm."

"First of all, you made your choice fully aware of the consequences," Damaris said coldly. "You conceived a child with a mortal man even though you knew it was forbidden. I act not on my own accord, but at the will of the High Matrons. And they wish only to guide her, to nurture what she has become."

"Of course they do," Paregoros replied, her voice laced with sarcasm. "You're expecting the impossible. There's so much more at stake here: her career, her father, her friendships."

"I know we cannot take her against her will, but she still has the chance to make this right."

"You believe she should abandon everything she loves, kneel at your feet and birth a legacy for your ends rather than hers."

"We act in accordance with the laws of divine balance. She is a beacon. Beacons do not belong in shadows."

"Yes. Indeed, they belong to no one—not even you."

Damaris scoffed. "I don't have to tell you what could happen if she stays with him. He was a father once, and look what happened to Calliope’s boy."

Paregoros winced, looking away.

"Do you truly want your daughter to suffer the same fate as her?"

"My daughter is her own person, and though I once had reservations about him, I cannot deny that he has changed."

"Ha! Changed? Oneiros? Don't be absurd. Someone like him is incapable of change. Your daughter possesses something unique, Paregoros. And this child she carries… it's a child of light. We must protect it from Dream's corrupting influence."

"ENOUGH!"

Damaris jolted backward, her eyes wide as saucers.

Paregoros heaved with rage, her eyebrows drawn so tightly together they narrowed her eyes to slits. "I have caused my daughter enough suffering. I would never ask her to endure the same fate I was made to accept, not that I would succeed even if I tried. "

"But it would be different for her, wouldn't it? Unlike you, she would have both her child and her mother by her side. We will present her with this choice regardless of what you wish for, but you could make the process far easier. Need I remind you that you visited her of your own accord when you were meant to keep your distance?"

"Say what you will, I'm washing my hands of this."

Damaris pursed her lips in evident disappointment. "You would rather have her stay in the Dreaming, with a being shaped by solitude and duty? A king who brings storms even in his rare moments of weakness?"

"He has held her when her light faltered, bringing her more joy than she has ever known. Oneiros earned the trust you now seek to barter away.

Damaris pressed her palm against her forehead in exasperation. "Do you even hear yourself? You speak of him with fondness after all his past actions, those horrendous deeds you once condemned. You were the one who didn't want him anywhere near your daughter, were you not? One misstep from him, and she will pay the price. As will the child."

"I don't expect you to understand. Unlike me, you've never been a mother, Damaris." Paregoros folded her arms across her chest, her eyes watering as old memories surfaced. "Seeing Y/N grow up without me was like burning in Hell. I wouldn't wish that on anyone… not even Oneiros or Lucifer themselves.”

"Sentimental as always, but that has already been your downfall once. Compassion or otherwise, it seems your very purpose blinds you to reason."

Paregoros released a mocking laugh. "Compassion doesn’t make me blind; it makes me just. We are concepts that predate language and art. I exist as an amplifier of Aphrodite's and Peitho's gifts, awakening when love is wounded or trust stands on the brink. Power is not something we seek, it is granted when needed."

"Yes, and such power is not his to keep."

"How can you be so insensitive? He remains the father. He would never allow you to keep the child sealed away from his realm."

"Even he must recognize his boundaries within the greater order of things."

"Ah, of course. Everything comes down to rules and order with you. Best of luck with that."

Damaris clicked her tongue. "You know as well as I do. He claimed to love Calliope, but his own pride mattered more than she ever did. And let's not forget how uninvolved he was in Orpheus' life. Or Death. Or in that place in between... whatever remains of him. What makes you think it will be any different with your daughter and grandchild?"

"If he truly didn't care, he would never have returned to her. As for my daughter, she made a conscious choice that requires respect."

"Please. She's merely indulging in her little human crush on a godly being. It must be that charm of darkness that so many mortals seem drawn to nowadays."

Damaris' words dripped like poison, the cruel curve of her lips causing the Daemona to clench her hands into fists, indignation flaring in her expression with renewed ferocity. "How dare you?"

Damaris dramatically responded with a wave of her hand. "Come now, I meant no offense."

"No?"

“I just—”

"You criticize her humanity, yet you seek to confine her power solely to our realm. If you believe my daughter can be swayed from her principles and convictions, that she'll abandon him and take their child away, you're going to hit a brick wall."

Damaris averted her gaze, looking offended. "She was born here. Why should she not return to where she originates from?"

But Paregoros pressed on, her voice sharp with insistence. "Because she's not some tool for you to manipulate. You sent her away at birth for lacking divine power, and now she's transformed into something entirely new. Something unprecedented, beyond any of our understanding."

"That is precisely why we cannot let Oneiros exploit such power."

Paregoros smiled icily, her eyes devoid of compassion for the first time in her eternal existence. "Because you wish to exploit it yourselves, do you not?"

"You—!"

"Fortunately, my daughter has enough wisdom to make her own good decisions, and that won't sit well with you at all."

Her arms fell to her sides as she turned, departing without a backward glance, leaving Damaris behind in her own simmering disdain.

"If you do not intervene, then we must, for their sake."

Though the Envoy remained stationary, her final question could be heard across the widening distance, her voice rising in pitch.

"Would you accept it if she chose the Endless over us? The Dreaming, over Klyseidos?"

Paregoros strode onward, replying with a sardonic gesture. "She already did, Damaris. I'll have to live with it, as will you. Unless, of course, you wish to disrupt the boundaries within the greater order of things yourself."

"And what if she falls?"

"She will rise anew. She always has."

She trotted away with composed dignity, her footsteps resonating through the temple as she made her way through the main entrance and down the road, her jaw held tight as her ire hung in the salty air.

Transitioning back to the Waking World proved to be a strong adjustment, as you wove your mundane existence back into your everyday life. Everything you had learned in the Dreaming's confines had proven invaluable, as your light stayed carefully contained, reappearing only in moments of complete seclusion rather than spilling forth unbidden in the presence of others. Mastering the equilibrium of this newfound capability was still a formidable challenge, but your proficiency in preventing spontaneous illumination at unwanted moments marked undeniable progress in your journey of self-control.

Ella hadn’t mentioned the incident at all, interacting with you as naturally as a spring breeze. You recognized her diplomatic tactfulness, as she was undoubtedly biding her time with characteristic patience, waiting for the perfect occasion to broach the subject. You acknowledged the futility of fabricating pretenses, knowing you had to resort to authenticity.

During your nocturnal sojourn into the dream realm, you encountered Astra in front of an immaculate, crystalline lake nestled within the forest. The creature acknowledged your presence with a welcoming smile, his dark eyes twinkling, while his lustrous coat resembled the finest velvet spun from moonbeams.

"I find you well, Y/N. Finally, we can all breathe a sigh of relief, yes?"

"You can definitely say that again. How is the Dreaming faring?"

"Some areas still show damage from the Vortex’s influence, and well... Lord Morpheus wasn't exactly in the right state to repair them. But I'd say things are returning to their proper order now."

Your lips curved into a serene smile as you acknowledged his words with a graceful inclination of your head. "I suppose it takes time, even for him. Still, the Dreaming feels quite different these days."

"Thanks to a certain someone, I dare say."

"I wouldn't give myself that much credit."

"That's the thing about you; you don't have to try. You complement the Dreaming, us, just as perfectly as you complement him."

Validating Astra's observation, a gentle zephyr wafted through the area, carrying with it an intoxicating fusion of night-blooming flora and amber notes, the aromatic symphony dancing upon the dreaming air. The familiar's face shone with a celestial warmth, suffused with a veneration that mirrored your own deep-seated devotion to him and the tapestry of the Dreaming realm.

"Would you like to walk with me, my lady?" he inquired.

You unfurled the diaphanous layers of your gown, letting the fabric cascade around you in waves as you bowed. "With pleasure."

The forest metamorphosed with each visit, displaying serpentine pathways and sprouting peculiar arbors. Astra's hooves produced melodious whispers against the ground as he accompanied you, while overhead, a spectacle of blue dream auroras painted the sky in waves of chromatic splendor.

"No matter how many times I explore this place, the Dreaming continues to amaze me. I imagine you never grow bored of living in such a wondrous domain."

"It certainly has its perks, being ever-changing."

"You never feel lonely, do you?"

"Not at all, I have plenty of friends here. Animals and creatures of all kinds, even the flowers. You'd be surprised how talkative they can be."

A melodious titter escaped your lips. "I don't think anything could surprise me anymore."

"Says the one who stares at everything with wonder."

"Can you blame me, though? The Waking World has its own little miracles and beauties, but I could never live a life like the one I experience here."

As you walked onward, an inexplicable chill enveloped your arms, while an enigmatic echo traversed among the canopy of leaves, its secrets lost to the winds.

"Did you hear that?"

"I hear many things," Astra said. "At times, you might hear fragments of conversations from other mortals' dreams. The realm never truly falls silent."

"Yes… of course. I might still be on edge after the whole ordeal with the Book of Paradoxes."

"Understandable. That was no trivial matter for any of us."

Desiccated foliage and gnarled twigs shattered under your footfalls, as a thin layer of vapor coiled sinuously along the forest's periphery. That voice returned once more, its ghostly melody moving nearer, threading through the branches until it coalesced into an unmistakable utterance of your name.

"It can't be just me, though, can it? Don't you feel like something is wrong?"

Before the familiar could respond to your inquiry, the fog expanded like a veil spread open, surrounding you at an alarming velocity. It enveloped you in its gelid embrace, bleaching your vision into alabaster nothingness. The ephemeral disturbance, fleeting as a moth's wingbeat, disappeared after a few blinks, yet when clarity returned, the terrain had subtly transformed - an uncanny shift that left the dreamscape feeling inexplicably altered.

"What just happened, Astra?"

An eerie disquietude permeated the atmosphere, casting forth an aura that felt unnatural, even by the standards of the Dreaming realm.

When only silence replied, you turned around. "Astra?"

Your friend had vanished into the haze, dissolved like morning dew, leaving only the faintest echo rebounding from an unfathomable distance. All that was left behind was a haunting emptiness and disquieting trepidation, as your hands instinctively sought refuge around your midsection, cradling the precious life that linked to the Dreaming's pulse.

"Astra!"

Summoning him proved fruitless, as an instinctive premonition told you that your solitary presence was ordained in this barren location, a territory whose nature diverged markedly from the well known imprint of Morpheus' craftsmanship.

“ʸ/ₙ…”

The earlier voice resonated again then, with amplified intensity and unmistakable clarity.

"Cₒₘₑ ₒᵥₑᵣ ₕₑᵣₑ."

After the cryptic tome had been sent into the void between dimensions, you had foolishly assumed that obscure calls would no longer plague your existence. Now, as this dream played like an ominous message from the unknown, your blood ran cold at the unsettling parallels.

Nevertheless, your legs began moving autonomously, guided by a force that pulled you beyond the woodland and brought you face-to-face with a liquid barrier; a vertical expanse of water that resembled a wide curtain made of frosty glass.

In bewilderment, you stared at how it defied gravity, like an ocean's surface standing upright instead of lying flat, stretching toward the sky. A continuous sheet of mist covered its highest reaches, as your reflection deformed in the moving waves in front of you.

Extending your hand toward the wall, you caressed the aqueous surface, feeling its gelatinous texture. With newfound courage, you pushed through the watery blockage to its opposite face, encountering only air—proof that it served as merely a thin partition separating the two places.

Your instincts were imploring you to flee, yet some magnetism anchored you in place. You took your hand out and it was immaculate, dried, with no sign of wetness or freezing. The barrier was neither tangible nor incorporeal, just an abstract construct similar to the ephemeral nature of dreams.

"When in doubt, your heart holds the answer."

With determined momentum, you propelled yourself through the barrier, sensing merely a subtle switch in your environment. Again, your form emerged completely untouched by moisture, and as you regained your posture to observe the translucent wall behind you, a golden radiance suddenly burst out from your palms. You made no attempt to repel it, following the trail it painted on the ground, your eyes scanning the enclosed sanctuary covered in lush greenery.

But your attention was immediately captured by the massive monolith ahead, emblazoned with an ancient glyph which triggered a flash of recent memory. Your heartbeat quickened as anxiety gripped your chest, head moving from side to side in denial.

Moving closer, your light started to fade, converging into an intricate sigil beneath the tome, one you could not recognize.

The tome bore no markings or identifying features to reveal its provenance. With hesitant trepidation, you reached for the cover's edge, and at the slightest contact, the book sprang open of its own accord.

The ordeal appeared to have concluded, yet Destiny unveiled another chapter that you were dreading to live through.

Just as terror began to seize your mind and constrict your slumbering breath, before you could turn and run away, a soft presence made itself known.

"Y/N, do not be afraid."

Your light formed a halo around the monolith, ascending from the ground and creating undefined shapes a few inches away from the massive rock. It was tethered to your outstretched palms suspended in the air, merging into what appeared to be a figure, partially diaphanous.

When the entity materialized completely, you scrutinized its form with mounting stupor. The spectral image, though devoid of distinguishing facial features, bore an uncanny and striking similitude to your physical appearance. You were gazing upon your own doppelganger made of golden light.

"Who... are you?"

Your double stepped forward, its featureless face somehow forming a smile. "I am you - the voice that’s been in your head since time immemorial. I am the whispers in your dreams, the intuition that moves you, your consciousness made real." Its voice was a thunderous symphony, each word in layered tones. "I am the force that flows through your veins, your primordial light, burning bright since the dawn of your creation."

"You... you are my light? You're actually alive?"

"Yes, in a sense. I can only communicate with you through your dreams. This is a sacred place that exists within yourself, one beyond even his reach."

"You mean Morpheus cannot find me here? But the Dreaming belongs to him, it's an extension of himself. There is no place he cannot see."

"Yes, but you are a Dreamwalker, Y/N. You can traverse where no other mortals dare, unlocking dreams that are not necessarily your own. And in doing so, you forge new ones."

Your eyes widened in disbelief. "I am a Dreamwalker?"

From ancient lore, you knew that Dreamwalkers were extraordinary souls blessed with the ability to traverse the dreamscape at will during their sleep, and in some special instances, could even breach the veil while conscious through spiritual practices like deep meditation, lucid awareness, or mystical artifacts. Unlike ordinary dreamers who moves aimlessly, a Dreamwalker has the gift to chart their course through the planes, treating the dream realm as intimately as their earthly dwelling.

"From your very first experience here, you navigated this realm without Morpheus aiding you. You discovered the gate, even the main hall of his ruined castle. You wandered freely through Abel's and Cain's territories, found your way into Lyta Hall's lost dream."

"I thought that was the Vortex's doing."

"A Vortex has the power to tear through the fabric of the Dreaming and merge separate dreams into one, but no. That was you."

With a deep breath, you turned your attention back to the glyph etched into the monolith. "What about this symbol, then? What does it mean?"

"This sigil serves as both a key and an anchor."

"What does it unlock?"

The luminous apparition tilted its visage, letting a soft quietude descend between the two of you.

"That is something you must discover when the time is right."

You let out an exasperated scoff. "Seriously? Can't anyone give me a straight answer for once? I'm tired of all these riddles!"

"This isn't a riddle, Y/N. This is your destined revelation."

"Right. What's the point of all this?"

The entity gestured at the marking, illuminating it with heightened vibrance. "You must memorize it. One day, you will need it."

"Why?"

"Because it represents what you are becoming."

"None of this makes sense."

"It will. When the hour folds, it will open. When the thread burns, it will seal. But not yet."

Your eyes blazed with incandescent fury and celestial wrath. "That’s it?"

You turned in a slow circle, your voice rising as irritation bubbled on your skin, the shadowy surroundings now bathed in the brightness of your magic. "Why must it be me? Why can't I just be normal?"

The light flickered. "You seek meaning, but you yourself are meaning."

"I don't even know who, or what, I am anymore."

"You are the question and the answer. You are the line unwritten."

"Oh yes, that makes everything so much clearer, thank you."

The presence, this time, almost sounded amused. "You aren’t prepared to understand."

"Why?" you asked, your voice raw with exasperation.

"Because knowing too much too soon unravels a thread that is already strained. If you pull on it now, it may snap."

"All this talk of 'threads', but threads of what?"

"Of life itself."

Surrendering to the doppleganer’s words, too exhausted to argue about matters that would only add more confusion to your tumultuous mind, you studied the intricate round configurations inscribed into the glyph, sensing its mystical energy intertwining with your force.

"You brought me to this hidden corner of my head, separating me from my familiar. And for what purpose? Just to show me this glyph? What should I do now, then?"

"Live. Create from your imagination. Embrace the infinite depths of love and devotion. Become the mother you are called to be. But speak of it to no one, not even him."

"Why must I keep this from Morpheus, of all beings?"

"You must walk this path alone, or neither of you will reach its end."

You clutched your pendant, feeling the warmth of your light mingling with the stone's power. "I want complete honesty with him, no secrets between us."

"Still, your silence guards him. You will do the right thing, the only one that can give you both what you seek."

"What might that be?"

Its hand brushed your cheek with the faintest touch. "Eternity."

"But—"

"This is your gift, Y/N. Protect it well."

A tempestuous wind dispersed the haze as the being pressed its fingers to your furrowed brow, causing your flesh to prickle and buzz. More white vapors surrounded your form and consumed the scene, your light waning into oblivion, bringing your clone with it.

Then, like a house of cards, the entire dream crumbled into darkness.

Consciousness returned with a sharp intake of breath, and as you regained your bearings, the chamber in the Dreaming fully shaped in front of you, its vast panorama visible through the grand window. A strange tingling sensation prickled across your forehead, yet upon examination with your fingertips, the skin was still smooth and unchanged, only slightly warmer compared to its usual temperature.

Exhaling softly, you swept your tousled locks away from your visage and drew back the starry covers, your bare feet padding softly across the floor as you retrieved the flowing vestment suspended from the bed's canopy. Draping it around your shoulders and allowing its fabric to billow gracefully behind you, you quietly made your way to the door, easing it open just enough to slip outside.

The palace corridors lay empty and silent, save for a few beings gliding along distant staircases and remote passageways. You navigated purposefully toward your intended sanctuary, your footfalls whisper-soft against the polished marble as you wound through archways and past entrances. At last, you reached the workshop Morpheus had conjured for your artistic endeavors, moving inside among the bust mannequins and glassy butterflies whose iridescence intensified in the nocturnal glow. They flapped their wings slightly while remaining stationary in their places.

Approaching the mahogany writing desk, you retrieved the pristine leather-bound journal that awaited its first inscription. Grasping a pencil, you delicately turned to the final leaf, meticulously recreating the enigmatic emblem from your dream in the lower margin. Although you ignored its real significance, an inexplicable impulse drove you to preserve its likeness before it could fade from memory.

You stared at the finished sigil intently, its strange charm mesmerizing your thoughts, when a shadow moved in your peripheral vision.

"Y/N?" Morpheus' voice intoned tenderly.

With cool nonchalance, you closed the journal against your chest and pivoted to face him.

"What brings you here? You should rest, my love."

"I just woke up feeling strangely inspired," you explained, masking a hint of regret behind your smile. "I wanted to sketch it, or else I may forget about it tomorrow."

"A mind such as yours brims with creativity. Each idea more extraordinary than the last."

The Dream King was, in fact, blissfully unaware of the occurance.

You wrapped an arm around his neck and kissed his lips, setting your journal back on the desk. "I do have my limits though. After all, you are the true master creator here."

"And yet, even in my vastness, I find myself humbled by such magnificence before me."

"Oh, you flatterer!"

You abandoned yourself into his embrace, momentarily forgetting about the journal and the glyph reproduced inside.

"I just know that when our daughter is born, she'll be the most beautiful of all."

"Then I shall have two most precious muses gracing my realm with their… inspiring presence."

"You must walk this path alone, or neither of you will reach its end."

"Your silence guards him. You will do the right thing, the only one that can give you both to what you seek."

"This is your gift, Y/N. Protect it well."

You peered at the leather-bound tome once more, maintaining your serene expression intact. The symbol held secrets meant for another time, and divulging its existence felt intuitively incorrect. The marking was now safely preserved among those pages, awaiting the moment of its necessity. For the present, you rejected the burden of metaphysical interference disrupting the happines you were building together, as nothing felt more right than being with the one you loved.

"Keep those sweet words flowing, and sleep will be the last thing on my mind."

His eyes sparkled with mischievous intent, his mouth curved into a faint, playful smirk. "If you do not want to sleep, then perhaps I shall find another form of entertainment.”

Your brow quirked upward, your embrace tightening as you arched closer to his countenance. "Well, I'm not tired anymore. By all means, my King, do entertain me."

Historic establishments always held an incredible allure. The Old Coffee House in Soho beckoned you whenever moments of leisure presented themselves, a venerable place that had weathered centuries since its 1772 origins, seamlessly blending traditional culture with the vibrant spirit of modern London's tavern scene**.**

You perused your digital correspondence and browsed haute couture updates on your mobile device, while a steaming cup of aromatic brew rested atop the rustic oak surface of the table. Your palm settled tenderly on your abdomen, an instinctive motion that had become second nature and deepened the connection with your unborn little one.

A newcomer breezed through the entrance, exchanging pleasantries with the baristas as her footwear echoed across the plush flooring. Your gaze caught sight of her ensemble - an elegant trench coat, classic British boots, and a fashionable handbag draped casually from her shoulder. Your artistic sensibilities compelled you to analyze her style, but you refocused on your phone and feigned disinterest in her movements.

Yet this mysterious visitor evidently harbored intentions of her own.

"Mind if I sit?"

You glanced up at her face to confirm she was indeed addressing you, your eyes flashing with mild surprise. "Uh… no, not at all…"

“They still serve that bloody rosehip blend here, don’t they?” she asked, eyeing the tea as she lowered herself onto the adjacent stool.

You blinked and nodded, shifting to sit straighter against the leather couch. Had she mistaken you for someone else, or had you forgotten meeting this woman before?

She offered a gentle smile, brushing aside her chestnut locks, and placed her forearms against the wooden surface. An enigmatic silence descended upon you as she scrutinized your features with an unreadable yet penetrating stare.

"So. Dream of the Endless? Must be one hell of a bedtime story."

The moment she spoke again, you almost choked on your tea.

Your eyes darted furtively around the café to scan for potential listeners within earshot. With hushed tones, you asked, "You know him?"

"We’ve crossed paths. Bit of a moody bastard, but he’s all right. Word is you've managed to soften him up quite a bit."

"I suppose so."

A peculiar disquiet crept over you, leaving you ambivalent about whether her approach was genuine curiosity or if she represented another foe seeking to disturb your tranquility. Her attention dropped to the flashy pendant around your neck, then drifted down to assess your growing belly, where your child with Dream resided.

"Oi, look. You’re not just shacking up with some cosmic entity here. You’re a walking crack in the universe’s blueprint. And believe me, that’s not an insult."

"Thanks... I guess. Though I'm not quite sure what you mean by 'walking crack.'"

"I don't have all the answers myself. But being a magic user, let's just say I notice things others don't."

"A magic user? You mean like a witch?"

“Not a witch, Occult Expert. You know, demonology, black magic, fighting the forces of evil - that sort of shit. Not exactly what most people fancy for a career.”

Finally relaxing, you found her quirky attitude disarming and sensed no hint of danger. "Sounds like fun."

"Pays well enough to keep me in designer boots, can't fucking complain about that."

Shrugging off her coat, she sported a refined button-up blouse tucked into form-fitting denim, her physique deceptively delicate despite wielding enough mystical knowledge to tame mythical creatures with a mere incantation.

Still, you couldn’t help but wonder if her presence at the café was mere coincidence or deliberately orchestrated.

"So, you seem to know about me, but I doubt Morpheus would discuss our relationship like ordinary gossip. What's this really about?"

“Sharp. I like that.”

A knowing half-smirk tugged at your lips as you shrugged.

"Right then, love. Might as well get to it: Hob Gadling. You know him, right?"

"Have you run into any other odd characters lately? Besides all them supernatural beings you've been telling me about."

"Hob? Of course. Are you telling me that he would just spill my story with Dream? That doesn't sound like him at all."

"He did not," she confessed. "Not until I pestered him with my questions and made it well impossible for him to avoid me. I did my research, he's got a good heart; immortality didn't rot it out, somehow. But lately there's been something... off about him. When you've dealt with as much nonsense as I have, you develop a sixth sense for this crap."

"Hob? Mixed up in the occult?"

She pivoted her face in negation. "Turns out you're the anomaly here, in a very strange way."

"Hold on—how exactly did your investigation lead from Hob to me?"

"Your magical signature's practically dripping off him. Given who you're with and what you're carrying inside you, it's not exactly rocket science why. There is… something about you that even my knowledge can't explain."

Had your light begun seeping into the mortal realm, turning you into a magnet for those attuned to psychic frequencies?

"It’s stronger lately. Much stronger. At first I thought we might have a fuckingmess on our hands."

Your mouth curved into a contemplative grimace. "And now?"

"Now I see it’s not a curse. It’s a convergence. You're not just carrying an Endless' child, you're bloody well pulsing like a heartbeat between dimensions."

"So why are you really here? To warn me? I suggest you get in line."

"Relax, I just wanted to offer you a healthy drink. Though I reckon you're sorted with that tea of yours. And while we have a good chat, I could figure out why this world is folding in strange places wherever you walk. And maybe even lend a hand if you need it. First time's free.”

Savoring another draught of your beverage, you exhaled a pensive whisper. "Obviously. I've learned to be wary of people offering help without expecting something in return."

She let out a sardonic snicker, giving an affirmative nod, before bellowing at the bartender to fetch her the most potent libation available.

"Nothing comes without a price," she pronounced, turning her attention back towards you.

"Except I never asked for your service."

Her bearing was distinctly unpolished, her tactics lacking finesse and sophistication. Yet beneath that gruff exterior, her eyes revealed an underlying gentleness necessarily masked by the demands of her profession.

And beneath it all, perhaps, a hidden pain.

After a momentary pause, she announced, "I'm Johanna. Johanna Constantine, since you haven't asked."

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 Chapter 25 Chapter 26 Chapter 27 (currently reading) Chapter 28 (coming soon) ->

#the sandman #the sandman morpheus x reader #dream of the endless x reader #morpheus x reader #the sandman fanfiction #the sandman writing

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rainbowmoonstonestories · 17 days ago

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🚨new SANDMAN season 2 clip

#the sandman #the sandman season 2 #the sandman spoilers #the sandman season 2 spoilers #sandman spoilers #ugh I want to hug him

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rainbowmoonstonestories · 21 days ago

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🥺

Him ♥️

#the sandman #the sandman season 2 #dream of the endless #the sandman morpheus

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rainbowmoonstonestories · 22 days ago

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I swear my heart is already about to explode. From Sandman News on X.

#the sandman #the sandman season 2 #sandman spoilers

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rainbowmoonstonestories · 22 days ago

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THE SANDMAN || Season 2 Episodes

via Sandman Official socials 6/3/25

#the sandman season 2

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rainbowmoonstonestories · 24 days ago

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#lol #one piece season 2

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rainbowmoonstonestories · 24 days ago

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Omg omg omg Chopper live action reveal is HERE!! 😍😍😍❌️❌️❌️

youtube

#He's so cute I can't #2026 though #dang #but still can't wait #one piece season 2

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rainbowmoonstonestories · 26 days ago

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<- Continuation of Chapter 9 for "A Bounty As Boundless As The Sea" due to Tumblr's 1000 blocks limits.

(Please refer to the previous post for the first -long- part of the chapter!)

As your journey through the Grand Line progressed, you visited numerous towns and accumulated valuable resources through various expeditions. Your concerns about the New World gradually dissipated, thanks to the capable crew Isaiah had assembled, a group you had quickly come to regard as family.

While occasional obstacles and unexpected confrontations arose during your travels, you eventually reached a level of proficiency where combat became a manageable aspect of your voyage, provided you kept strategic caution and avoided unnecessary risks.

After several months at sea, your ship navigated back through the Calm Belts toward the East Blue, where both business matters and your family awaited your return. Maintaining regular communication, Mihawk often visited during your travels across both the Grand Line and East Blue, further strengthening your bond and bringing welcome moments of respite when privacy could be found. Your maritime responsibilities had grown considerably, requiring frequent sailing between oceans while maintaining your established trading operations in the East Blue.

Though demanding, the work brought immense satisfaction. It represented the realization of your aspirations, a life rich with exploration and discovery, exactly as you had envisioned when departing your homeland.

One day, seeking a break from your daily work, you invited Mihawk to your private quarters for an intimate dinner. You took great care in preparing an elegant meal, selecting premium ingredients to appeal to his refined tastes. Though typically withdrawn, his appreciation was evident as he finished every dish with quiet satisfaction, elegantly seated at your side. You had set a table on the vessel's deck, with carefully arranged lanterns and string lights creating a soft, ambient glow that illuminated his distinguished features. The atmosphere was the apotheosis of romance, yet there was something that, as the night wore on, seemed to be particularly and unusually off.

Mihawk was strangely distant, offering minimal responses as his gaze drifted somewhere else. His demeanor was particularly telling in how he held his wine glass, barely sipping from it while lost in contemplation. His willingness to traverse between the Grand Line and East Blue was a constant testament to his dedication, yet you couldn't help but notice subtle changes that gave rise to uncertainty about the evolution of your relationship.

Upon reflection, there had been several instances that indicated this shift. Your recent meetings had become notably briefer, and his usual focused bearing appeared somewhat distracted. Whatever was troubling him seemed to be of great importance, and you dreaded discovering what it might be.

Hesitant to break the silence, as his eyes lingered on the crimson liquid, you found yourself asking, "Is something on your mind?"

Mihawk's attention snapped back to you, but his composed quietness didn't reveal anything.

"I've noticed you seem different lately, particularly tonight. Have I done something to upset you?"

"Your concern is misplaced. I am simply considering certain matters."

"Okay, well. Would you like to share what's troubling you then?"

His jaw tensed, his fingers drifting back to the stem of the wine glass.

Once again, silence was his only response.

"Fine, forget I even asked," you said, mild irritation bubbling up. "If you wish to leave, by all means, don't let me keep you. I put a lot of effort into this evening, and I would have appreciated more consideration from you."

Anxiety rising, you reached for your glass and drank steadily, hoping to quell the growing fear. Given your shared history—from his intervention with the bounty, provision of Seastone and the transponder, to his unwavering protection throughout your many journeys—it seemed improbable that his sentiments would have wavered so abruptly. Still, since he hadn't reached to kiss you even once that night, your gut had already started twisting into intricate knots.

No, something was undeniably wrong.

His distant mood might originate from various causes; perhaps diplomatic annoyances, a particularly frustrating confrontation, or simply the temporary absence of engaging pursuits.

Even someone of his stature was not immune to bad days. Unfortunately, that voice in your head was already spiraling out of control.

However, when he finally spoke and revealed his answer, all your worried assumptions proved incorrect.

And it was far beyond whatever your brain was conjuring.

"Marriage would be a logical arrangement."

His golden eyes met yours with unwavering intensity as you sat motionless, wine glass frozen at your lips, the liquid threatening to overflow. You took a measured sip of wine, your composure breaking slightly as you set the glass down with trembling hands.

"Marriage..?" you asked in disbelief. "Where did that come from?"

"Our association has persisted for a considerable amount of time. While you may view this as mere frivolity, I see it as something that requires proper definition and structure."

Your breath hitched, your ears ringing. Was Mihawk actually proposing to you in such an unconventional manner?

"I don’t understand. It was never a game for me, I’ve said it many times," you replied. "Marriage isn't just some arrangement. I don't want us to simply sign a contract and call it done. It's a monumental step, a huge change in our lives. And you... you don't even love me that way, do you?"

He regarded you with a pensive look, his expression suggesting your statement had missed the obvious truth of the matter.

Your heart hammered wildly, plummeting to your stomach before leaping into your throat. “Mihawk—”

"I wish to solidify what we have," he declared with stern formality. "My duties may keep me from these waters, and while I have no intention of confining you to Kuraigana, I propose a more permanent commitment. Your independence would remain intact - continue your ventures as you see fit. What I offer is not a cage, but an anchor: a place, and a person, to which you may always return."

Your lip quivered as tears welled in your eyes, glinting in the golden light. “Are you serious about this?”

"Meet me at dusk tomorrow, where our paths first crossed. Should you choose not to appear, I will take your absence as your rejection, and we shall part ways."

He rose from his seat, the chair sliding back with a gentle creak against the wooden deck. You failed to move, rendered speechless as you gazed at the dark expanse of ocean before you. His footsteps echoed across the ship as he departed, leaving his unexpected proposal echoing in the night air, replaying in your mind.

Through your shared experiences across the seas, Mihawk’s interest in you had evolved into something more, a need for permanence, for what would become a lifelong involvement. There was no ring, no bouquet of flowers, no scenic proposal on bended knee with poetic declarations. Notwithstanding that, your cheeks were streaked with silvery tears, your happy laughter resounding across the silent port.

He had presented you with a decisive choice, and you recognized with absolute certainty where your deepest heart's desire lay. Beyond all worldly possessions and even the freedom of the seas, a liberty he had no intention of curtailing, your truest aspiration was as clear as dawn.

"I'm getting married," you murmured to yourself, staring at your left hand where a wedding ring would soon rest. "I'm fucking getting married!"

From that moment forward, you would take your place as the esteemed wife of Dracule Mihawk, marking a new chapter in both your lives.

Chapter 1 Chapter 2 Chapter 3 Chapter 4 Chapter 5 Chapter 6 Chapter 7 Chapter 8 Chapter 9 (currently reading) Go to Chapter 10 (coming soon) ->

#A bounty as boundless as the sea - Chapter 9 continuation

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rainbowmoonstonestories · 26 days ago

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A Bounty As Boundless As The Sea | Chapter 9

Chapters: 9/? Fandom: One Piece (Liveaction 2023) Rating: Explicit Relationships Dracule Mihawk x F!Reader Characters: Dracule Mihawk, Original Characters, Akagami no Shanks, Roronoa Zoro , Perona. Warnings: Mention of blood and physical torture, violence, 18+ content (minors DNI), explicit sexual content, POV switching. Summary: Constantly evading capture due to a bounty on your head, you were forced to embrace the life of a pirate, despite your initial desire for a thrilling adventure and a simple exploration of the world. One fateful day, the Marines dispatched Dracule Mihawk to hunt you down, plunging you into a game of hide and seek with the formidable Warlord of the sea throughout the East Blue. However, to your surprise, the man proved to be less bloodthirsty and hostile than you had anticipated. His piercing, hawk-like eyes, shimmering with a deep golden hue, left an indelible impression on your mind, while his apathetic yet self-assured demeanor ignited a newfound sense of intrigue within you.

Credits: The divider was made by firefly-graphics.

Tagging: @gg-trini, @commanderfreethatdust, @canthebest1, @shakysif, @i-am-vita. If anyone else wants to be tagged in the future chapters, feel free to drop me a comment!

Read on AO3

With the new seastone-hulled ship ready for its maiden voyage, Isaiah introduced you to a crew of formidable individuals, each with their own special skill. Of course, expecting your very first expedition in the Grand Line to be mundane was pure wishful thinking.

Warning: Detailed NSFW content ahead.

The sounds filling your cabin were absolutely indecent, alternating between loud moans and wet noises of skin hitting skin.

Pinned beneath him with your hands above your head, you wrapped your legs around Mihawk's waist as he moved, thrusting powerfully into you like a man consumed by fervent lust. His lips traced delicate paths across your cheek while his facial hair gently tickled your skin, his bare chest grazing your nipples with each rhythmic push.

His complete nakedness was unusual, as he typically preferred keeping his lower garments unless circumstances demanded otherwise. This welcome change suggested his growing comfort in your presence, deepening your level of intimacy and revealing a new facet of his complex character.

"Harder," you urged him, desperate from months of loneliness and physical neglect.

"Hm. You should be more mindful of your words," he replied with cool composure. "You may come to regret such bold requests."

"Oh please, we're way past that," you breathed. "I haven't seen you in months… the least you could do is indulge me."

"As expected of you. But you should know, I don’t intend to show mercy."

Your nails dug into his skin as your fingers tightened around his hands. "If I'd wanted gentle, I wouldn't have chosen you."

He throbbed inside you, pulsing against your depths in reaction to your response. "I must warn you then; I will not cease until I have achieved satisfaction, even if that means continuing our activities until dawn."

You chuckled. "I love how you manage to stay elegant even during sex."

"Elegant?" He scoffed, his piercing golden eyes fixed on you. "Look at yourself—breathless, ravenous, clinging to me like a lifeline. There is nothing elegant about what transpires between us. This is pure, raw desire."

Stifling another moan, you let out a laugh. "I was talking about your way with words. So let me be crystal clear. I want you to take me as hard as you can, for as long as you can, until I'm completely undone."

"Daring words again," he murmured, drawing in a sharp breath of pleasure. "Very well. You brought this upon yourself."

He released your hands and slid his palms down to your breasts, squeezing the soft mounds roughly while pinching your nipples between his fingers. Your delicious mewl encouraged him as he moved lower, spreading your legs wider and unwinding them from his hips. Your clitoris was aching, throbbing with need at the sudden exposure, aching intensely for attention.

Mihawk’s gaze lingered on your aroused flesh as he slowly dragged his fingers up your inner thigh—sending shivers through your nerves—until he reached his destination like a coveted prize. The circular motions of his thumb against the flushed tip made you writhe beneath his touch, your hips bucking uncontrollably with each stroke he provided. Torturous and menacing, he went straight to the point without preamble.

‘A-ah. W-wait—”

"Hmm... having second thoughts? I'm afraid it's far too late for that now."

You gasped as his thumb continued its relentless stimulation, while he remained perfectly still inside you.

"N-no, it's not that. It's just... you're not moving."

"Oh, we have plenty of time for that," he purred. "I doubt you want me to stop what I'm doing."

"Well, no. But if you keep this up, I'll reach my limit far too quickly."

"Then consider this our personal training session. I know you have the stamina to recover and continue."

Your head fell back against the pillow as he struck a particularly sensitive area. "I mean... yeah. But are you really testing me?"

"Life is a test of endurance, my dear. Show me how far your determination goes."

The dual sensations of his skilled fingertips against your clit, combined with the delicious pressure within your walls, sent waves of ecstasy coursing through your entire form. Like a gathering tempest, pleasure rapidly built toward your breaking point.

"Shit. Why must you be so irresistible?"

“Oh?”

"I mean it," you panted. "You're impossibly attractive. Everything you do is just... so enticing—ah!"

"Do not presume I am unaffected by your allure. Your presence draws me in like a blade to its mark. And that can be… most troublesome indeed."

"Ah. So I'm an inconvenience to you, am I?"

"You are quite the distraction," he stated with stern control, his penetrating eyes falling on the ever-present cross necklace adorning your neck. "Yet I find myself intrigued by this particular disruption to my solitude."

"Well, well. The almighty Dracule Mihawk, rendered powerless by a mere dealer from the East Blue."

His lips tightened into a thin line as his thumb and forefinger grasped your clit with exquisite precision. "Powerless is an absurd notion.”

"Mh…ah! Okay. As much as I enjoy our banter, I'm… rather preoccupied with how close you're bringing me to the edge."

"By all means, proceed."

“Wait, really? You don’t mind?”

"Consider yourself fortunate that I do not take satisfaction in prolonging your suffering needlessly."

He shifted his hips and thrust deeper, hitting your tender spot with such perfection that you came completely unraveled, his thumb moving on your clit with maddening speed, slipping on it with ease.

"I find it rather gratifying to witness you falling apart beneath my touch."

In an instant, you dissolved into sheer bliss, your back arching as waves of uncontrolled euphoria ignited every fiber if your being during your explosive release.

"Precisely as intended," he pronounced.

Mihawk continued with unrelenting determination, withdrawing only to drive deep inside you again, his fingers maintaining their persistent pace.

Your inner walls gripped him with fierce constriction, eliciting a sharp breath from between his clenched teeth as he fought to resist his own impending climax.

Being Dracule Mihawk, however, he remained utterly unshaken.

“Please… ah! That's too much!” You whimpered.

"I think not. Surely you can withstand a little more,” he remarked with authority, his voice carrying that signature blend of aristocratic refinement and subtle intimidation.

"Ah, so we're playing this game now, eh? Fine, you're in for quite a challenge," you breathed out.

As he resumed his measured thrusts, your oversensitive nerves gradually transformed from tingling discomfort to renewed rapture. Proceeding with deliberate cadence, he pulled his fingers away, leaving a hollow emptiness of unfulfilled need in his wake.

"I find such challenges worthy of my attention."

"Well, I do as well—Ahh!"

Your voice was cut off by his next plunge as Mihawk gripped your legs firmly and drove into you at a more savage tempo than before. You had requested ferocity, and he obliged with unwavering vigor, confident in your resilience to match his formidable strength.

His movements became fierce and purposeful, establishing a powerful rhythm that pushed your limits without breaking them. As you attempted to meet his hips, you found his dominance unreachable.

And you reveled in every second of it.

"Is this display of power sufficient?" He inquired with aristocratic poise, his breathing remarkably steady despite such exertion.

"I know this isn't your full strength, but yes, it's exactly what I had in mind."

"I am a man of honor, and I keep my word."

As your legs quivered, you felt him growing impossibly thick inside you, spurred by your compliance and the way you appreciatively squeezed his length against your core.

"Indeed," you murmured. "A rare quality in these times."

"I would prefer to hear your voice express something more primal. Thank you."

"A—ah, sorry. Did you expect me to scream your name?"

"Such theatrics are unnecessary."

"But you still—mmh! You still want to hear me moan for you."

"Your every reaction betrays you, without my needing to ask for more," he said with cold amusement. "Less talking. More of that delectable sounds."

Another chuckle escaped your lips, evolving into a breathless moan you couldn't hold back. His athletic prowess was astonishing, his hips carrying on without showing any sign of fatigue.

"Touch yourself," he commanded. "Let me witness your pleasure."

Without hesitation, you complied. Your hand traced the curve of your abdomen, sliding closer and closer to where your bodies joined. But the moment your fingers grazed your sensitive nub, brushing against it with a feather-light touch, Mihawk's hand clamped firmly around your wrist.

"Not there. I require something else."

You arched an eyebrow. "Something else?"

Wordlessly, he guided your hand upward, letting it trail across your heated skin and directing it to one of your breasts, following its curve. You swallowed hard, transfixed by the burning passion of his gaze as he studied you, his eyes so darkly erotic that they made you burn with the promise of another approaching release.

"Surely you don't require explicit instruction."

You smiled. If Mihawk wanted a show, you would give him the most arousing display imaginable, one that would surpass any man's wildest fantasies.

With deliberate slowness, as his hand returned to your thighs, you caressed your nipple in delicate circles, savoring the electric tingles from such a sweet stimulation. His tightening jaw and the low "mh" that escaped his throat were all you needed to feel your motivation flare, arching your back, and moaning lightly as you clamped your walls repeatedly around him.

"You are utterly maddening," he declared. "And I alone shall witness such captivating displays."

"That goes without saying," you replied, your cheeks flushed. "I couldn't imagine doing this with anyone else."

"Any man foolish enough to entertain such thoughts about you will meet a most unfortunate end by my blade."

"You'd have to read their minds first. Unless your abilities extend to telepathy."

"I can assure you, one glance is all I require."

Closing your hands around your breasts, pushing them together, you inhaled deeply. "Well, let them look... and let them think what they will when they see me walking around. Should that ever happen, you'll know that all of this, all of me, belongs only to you."

Your words sparked a possessive growl, followed by more forceful thrusts that made you jolt back and forth. His thumb and forefinger returned to your clit, encircling it with masterful skill.

"Good. Let this serve as a reminder of your place."

Gently, you reached up to caress his face, initiating a kiss that left you completely breathless. His movements became more measured as he responded to your affection, while you delicately explored his lips, tracing their perfect line like a brush gliding across canvas. He accepted your tongue into his mouth, allowing you to relish the contrasting sensation of his beard, rough yet soft against your palms.

"I know exactly where I stand, Mihawk," you murmured between sighs. "I wouldn't spend months here waiting for someone who wasn't truly important to me."

"Your dedication is quite remarkable," he stated. "I must confess, the duration of my absence proved more arduous than I anticipated.”

"Ah, so you did miss me, didn't you?"

“Your presence has become quite… significant."

"I'll take that as a 'yes’.”

You brought your lips to his ear, your warm breath ghosting across it. "Right now though, I want nothing more than for you to ravish me."

"Is that what you wish? So be it."

Pushing you onto your back once more, he rose to his knees and positioned your legs upward, securing them firmly around his waist. His pelvis jerked back and forth, his length slipping in and out of you so rapidly that your vision started to blur, your eyes rolling back as waves of pleasure cascaded through you like an endless spectacle of shooting stars. His precise thrusts sent you tumbling over the precipice, your toes curling as another orgasm made you cry out and tremble. It arrived suddenly, erupting like a firecracker.

Then he stilled, waiting for your euphoric waves to subside, his golden eyes blazing with hunger despite his impassive expression.

You were gasping, completley speechless and paralyzed by his scrutiny. Mihawk gripped your legs beneath your knees, spreading them before him again as he withdrew his arousal—rigid, throbbing, and wholly unsatisfied.

"What are you doing?" you asked in confusion. "You're still hard."

"I am acutely conscious of my present state."

"Well, obviously. Why did you stop?"

"As I've already explained, I’m a man bound by honor."

You blinked slowly. "And?"

"You requested my full attention and endurance… and the night stretches before us like an endless sea."

"Wonderful, now you've become poetic."

"Would you prefer I remain in brooding silence?"

You shook your head. "No, no—I didn't mean that in a bad way."

His length slid against your wetness in a slow, teasing motion, his tip grazing your clit causing delicious tremors to form through it. "Then allow me to savor every moment," he declared.

You nodded, reaching for the flushed, glistening tip of his hardness, grazing the spongy surface with delicacy and reverence. "Naturally, you can. It's just... look at you. How long can you possibly maintain such restraint? It can't be good for you."

"Oh, it can," he replied coldly. "Most effectively."

You snorted. "Don't tell me you're actually applying your swordsmanship training to sex now."

"Discipline and control are essential in all aspects of life. Just as I master the blade, I master the art of pleasure. And you shall reap the benefits of my expertise."

"Damn it, Mihawk, you're impossible!"

"I doubt you would like someone lacking in finesse and restraint. Someone as ordinary as your precious friend."

You swirled your fingers in a provocative motion, appreciating the hint of jealousy and possessiveness in his tone. "No. I'm more than content with what I have with you. But while you've had years of training behind you, I doubt I can match your strength. My body has its limits. I won't just sit here and let you wait until I'm ready again."

Your hand wrapped around his shaft as Mihawk pushed forward, sliding it through your palm with incredible responsiveness. "What course of action would you propose?" he inquired with curiosity.

"Since I'm already touching you, if you enjoy testing your limits, perhaps I could help you explore them? See just how long you can keep that perfect control of yours?"

A faint smirk played across his lips. "I find your suggestion intriguing."

"Ah, so I'm finally speaking your language, aren't I?"

"Not quite. But your progress is noted."

"Cool, I've earned the master's approval!"

Mihawk leaned forward, his nose gently brushing against yours. "You are neither my servant, nor am I your master. We are equals."

"How thoughtful of you to clarify."

"I am quite serious about this matter."

You offered him a cheerful grin, placing another kiss on his lips. "I know. You don't need to tell me that."

With incredible restraint, his length slid deeper into your hand. "Then the agreement is sealed. Proceed, show me the full extent of your capabilities."

"Getting impatient, are we? What happened to all that endurance?"

"I should find a more productive use for that sharp tongue of yours."

You giggled softly as you maneuvered both bodies until his back rested against the mattress, straddling his waist and settling into his lap. Your weight pinned his length against his abdomen, your fingers caressing his flesh around the tip. He made no protest, nor did he resist relinquishing command.

"A tempting suggestion, but that would likely undo all your careful efforts," you said with mischief.

"Hm. Your confidence is entertaining. I was under the impression you were more reserved in your claims."

You rocked your hips, moving sinuously along his length. "I don't brag without reason. If I recall correctly, you thoroughly enjoyed my attention on Mirror Ball Island. You weren't able to resist for very long, either."

"That was a calculated decision. I would never subject someone of your caliber to such unseemly surroundings."

"Ah, what a gentleman."

You moved faster, releasing his tip and pressing your thumb against the underside. You could feel him pulse and shake with each touch, and while his muscles were taut with obvious tension, his face was perfectly stoic, betraying no trace of strain.

"Are you certain this is alright? Your body is clearly aching for release."

"Your concern for my wellbeing is unnecessary. I have endured far greater challenges than this."

Rotating your hips, you leaned slightly forward, circling your thumb along his skin in a way that made him visibly twitch, though he contained every reaction with admirable excellence.

"You've nothing to prove to me, you know."

"I am not one to engage in such frivolous demonstrations."

"Are you seriously subjecting yourself to such torture for the sake of training? You're the strongest man in the world, surely you have plenty of other ways to exercise."

His throat moved visibly as he swallowed, your fingers stroking him with mounting energy.

"Must I truly articulate the obvious to you?"

"The obvious?" you asked. "Which is?"

With lightning speed, he pulled you close and sat up, his hands clasping your waist as his face hovered just inches from yours. "This has nothing to do with discipline or restraint. I simply wish to spend every possible moment savoring your company."

You exhaled, resting your forehead against his shoulder. "And you had to be this dramatic about it? It's not like I'd kick you out of my ship the moment you finish. I never have."

"I find your devotion to me most admirable. And as you so eloquently pointed out, quite rare in this world of chaos."

"If that pleases you, you can come to me for this whenever you need it."

His lips found your neck, trailing tender kisses across your skin as he made his way down to your collarbone. "You mean far more to me than mere physical gratification."

"Still, you enjoy this, don't you?"

"I can’t deny that. You are quite extraordinary."

He followed the curve of your upper breast with his lips, planting soft pecks, before descending to the rosy, sensitive peak at the center. He gazed at it in silent adoration, as though admiring the finest masterpiece ever created.

"Allow me to demonstrate my point."

As his lips closed around your nipple, you moaned in surprise at the exquisite sensation. He worshipped it like it was a precious delicacy, making meticulous patterns with his tongue, alternating between gentle suction and careful tugs. He moved from one breast to the other with calculated attention, producing soft, arousing sounds that filled the air around you.

"This was supposed to be about you."

"Oh, it is my dear. Tasting you is my greatest indulgence."

"You’re cheating.”

"Mm, am I now? I'd say you're quite enjoying yourself."

"I never said I wasn't."

With a silent chuckle, Mihawk continued lavishing attention on your breasts while stealthily sliding his thumb against your clit. He pressed it with an unprecedented technique, skipping any teasing to focus precisely on what he sought to evoke.

“S—stop… that’s enough.”

"Your limits are far greater than you imagine. Show me what you're truly capable of, with that remarkable resilience of yours."

He intensified the pressure while giving your nipple one last, lingering suck before resuming with his tongue. It was mesmerizing, tender, and impossibly divine, intensely pleasurable and all-consuming. Despite your expectations, a third climax blossomed deep into your core, gentler than before, like a soft echo of bliss. It was no less delightful, however, sending your eyes rolling back and making you writhe against him.

At last, Mihawk could no longer contain his carnal desire. Surrendering to the flush on your cheeks and the feelings flowing through him as your hand squeezed his length, he finally yielded to his release, spilling onto his torso with powerful pulses that seemed to stretch into an eternity of pure delectation. It was primal, sexy, and fulfilling, a harmony that transcended mere physical need.

He was breathtaking and singular, unlike any man you had ever known, and the only one you wished to share your bed with for all time.

Mihawk released a low growl, drawing a deep breath through his nose as his tremors gradually subsided. You trailed your lips along his cheek, brushing past the corner of his eye before returning to his ear. "Well, look at the mess you've done."

"I believe you had quite the hand in this matter, did you not?" He replied.

"Quite literally, in fact."

With a light sigh, he assisted you in relocating from his lap. “If you would be so kind as to assist me with this predicament."

"Shall we take another bath?"

"Do you intend to engage in such childish behavior as last time?"

You laughed. "Childish behavior? What, you mean splashing water? I was merely teasing you. And considering what we did after that, I'd say you liked it."

"The aquatic activities were not my primary source of satisfaction, but I must admit, you made them tolerable."

"Tolerable, hmm? If you say so. But I'm feeling rather sticky at the moment, so feel free to wait here in this state if you prefer."

"I shall accompany you. After all, a true swordsman never leaves a task unfinished."

You cracked up, kissing his forehead before sliding off his lap completely. "I wouldn't dream of interfering with that. But fair warning; if you can't keep your hands to yourself, you'll have to finish up alone. I'm completely drained."

Grabbing the sheet, you draped it over yourself as you headed to the bathroom, leaving him completely exposed—and unfazed by that.

"Do you intend to submerge yourself while wrapped in fabric?"

"Oh no, that's just for modesty's sake. I wouldn't want to distract you with the view of my backside."

As you filled the tub and arranged clean towels on the stool, you heard the mattress creak followed by his footsteps across the wooden floor. His hands reached for your waist from behind, grasping the fabric's edge you held before letting it fall in a soft cascade onto the wooden planks.

"Your beauty deserves no concealment," he stated. "And you are precisely the sort of diversion I find most intriguing."

You turned to face him, your hand gently caressing his bearded jawline as water flowed into the bath. Steam rose gracefully, enveloping the room in a gentle warmth. With the world outside fading away to leave just the two of you, completely naked before each other, you lost yourselves in a moment more ethereal than any novel could capture.

His eyes gleamed like molten gold, accentuated by the warm glow of the lanterns. He gazed at you as though you were the most precious thing in existence—his expression reserved and enigmatic, yet beneath it lay an unmistakable tenderness.

"Do you really find me beautiful?" you inquired gently.

"My words are neither frivolous nor empty," he stated, his piercing gaze unwavering. "Mere physical attraction is fleeting, but you... you are striking in every conceivable way."

"I see. In that case, I should abandon all pretense of modesty around you, indeed," you said with a chortle. "Evidently, you prefer me wearing nothing but you."

Then, for the first time, Mihawk's lips curved into a genuine smirk; an extremely rare, unguarded smile that you had never seen before and suspected no one else had witnessed.

And it was magnificent.

“Now you’re finally speaking sense,” he replied, pulling you into a loving kiss as his fingers reached for the bandaged burn on your neck.

"I hope everything went well back home," you said, idly trailing your nails along his chest.

"Nothing of significance occurred. Just the usual tedious affairs one must attend to, hardly worth recounting."

"Hmm. I heard you were on some mission for Vice Admiral Garp? What was that about?"

He repositioned his arm around your shoulder, tilting his head to look down at you. "I was tasked with locating his grandson. A rather mundane endeavor, I must say."

You blinked in surprise. "His grandson?"

"A rookie stirring chaos in the East Blue. Monkey D. Luffy."

"Wait—Monkey D. Luffy is Vice Admiral Garp's grandson?"

"Are you acquainted with this boy?"

"Not at all, but I've heard quite a bit about him. They say he always carries a distinctive straw hat, and rumor has it he's made of rubber, likely from a Devil Fruit."

“Mh.”

"Did you manage to find him? After all, you never fail to track down your targets," you stated with a smile.

“Naturally.”

"So? What happened?"

He gestured dismissively. “I decided to let him go.”

"Oh really? I think I've heard a similar story before."

"And here you are, living proof of my occasional moments of mercy."

"Are you being sarcastic with me now?"

"Such frivolity would be beneath me."

You replied with a playful scoff, curling closer against his chest. "So, you let him go. Did something about him intrigue you?"

“He is… interesting.”

"Oh? Do tell me more."

He thoughtfully wet his lips, the simple motion appearing both casual and deeply sensuous. “I told you when we met; this world could use a few wild cards. The boy has a certain untamed fire. I recognized that same defiant spirit in you when our paths first crossed."

You hummed in delight. "I see. I'll just leave it at that, then."

Mihawk paused, gazing at the ceiling as he contemplated recent events. “I must say, there was someone else worth of my attention.”

"Oh? Should I be feeling jealous?"

"Unless you find yourself harboring feelings of jealousy towards a swordsman who once made his living hunting pirates.”

You propped yourself up and asked, "A former pirate hunter?"

"Roronoa Zoro," he responded, his voice carrying a refined gravitas. "Perhaps you are familiar with the name?"

"You bet I am! According to Isaiah, he was quite a frightening one. He literally walked around with a man split in half in his bag. That would be almost comical if it weren't so gruesome."

"I trust he never came after you?”

You shook your head. "No, surprisingly. I heard he was arrested by the Marines at one point, but then a peculiar young man with a straw hat freed him. That would explain his sudden change of allegiance," you concluded. "There are several amusing stories about Captain Morgan's son. Apparently, Roronoa gave him quite the ridiculous haircut."

Mihawk regarded you with an expression of practiced skepticism.

"Hey, that's just what people gossip about! I don't even know if it's true."

"How utterly mundane."

You stifled an amused laugh, finding his refined disdain rather entertaining.

"So, you encountered Roronoa Zoro. Then what? Did you take interest in him merely because he wields three swords?"

"No. He challenged me to a duel.”

“Ah.”

“His eyes carried the same delusion I've seen countless times before; the belief that he could defeat me. But there was something different about him."

Curious, you shifted your elbow against the pillow. "Yeah?"

"His raw strength is undeniable, but he lacks discipline. His path to mastery will be long."

"Let me guess—you won the duel but chose to spare his life?"

"Death would have been premature. He has potential that deserves time to mature."

In that moment, you recognized a distinct intensity in his expression. This former pirate hunter had evidently awakened something in Mihawk, igniting a fascination that no previous opponent had managed to inspire.

At last, he had encountered a formidable adversary deserving of his legendary blade.

"So you found the kind of challenge you've been seeking for a long time, didn't you?"

"We shall see if he proves himself deserving. I have dealt with far too many disappointing final gambits."

You tenderly embraced him, placing a gentle kiss upon his cheek. "I doubt it. If you saw something special in him, you must be right. Just don't let him become strong enough to surpass even you."

"Such a notion is beneath consideration."

You sighed. "I'm not doubting your abilities, but... I would be devastated if that were to happen."

"Is that so?"

"Mh-mh," you mumbled, feeling the day's weariness settling over your eyelids. "I couldn't bear to lose you."

"Then I shall ensure that I never give you cause to mourn my passing."

Though his tone remained characteristically detached, you recognized the genuine commitment underlying each statement he made.

Your leg intertwined naturally with his, a gesture he accepted with comfortable ease. "Yes, please. Thank you.”

"Let us cease with this idle chatter. No need to deprive yourself of rest on my behalf."

You pouted. "Just don't sneak away while I'm sleeping."

"So that is what troubles you."

You inhaled deeply, taking in the pleasant blend of his natural masculine scent mingled with the delicate fragrance of the bath oils. "I'm not troubled, you can do as you wish. After all, you are your own man."

"Though I pride myself on my independence, I find denying your request for my companionship unnecessary."

"Your thoughtfulness touches me."

He traced his fingers delicately along your arm before gently brushing your hair away from your face. His warm palm settled against your temple, his touch light as he caressed the crown of your head. "You prove to be most exasperating. Are you aware of that?"

"And yet here you are, comfortably lying in my bed with me."

He gently pressed his nose against your forehead, his warm breath providing a comforting presence. "Infuriating, as per usual."

A content smile graced your features as you drifted into peaceful slumber, while his other hand softly wrapped around your wrist, keeping it securely positioned against his steadily beating heart.

Waking to find Mihawk beside you in the morning was an incomparable experience. Your hand drifted over the contours of his face as he remained still, providing a rare opportunity to study his distinguished features.

Satisfied, you settled into the hollow of his neck and slipped back into repose. As your consciousness faded once more, Mihawk's eyes flickered open, his gaze falling upon you with a carefully guarded tenderness, before conceding himself another brief moment of sleep.

An hour passed before Mihawk rose from the bed, methodically donning his boots and coat. From your reclined position on the mattress, you inspected his movements through half-lidded eyes, aware of the pleasant tension in your muscles.

"You won't disappear on me again, will you?" you asked.

"Quite the opposite. Our encounters might become more frequent from this moment forward."

“Oh, really?”

"Your companion has all the answers. Seek him out."

Blinking away your grogginess, you yawned. "My companion? You mean Isaiah?"

"I have granted him a gift of considerable significance."

"A gift? To Isaiah…?"

"It is meant primarily for our mutual benefit. His detailed explanation shall provide clarity on the matter."

You stretched your arms. "And you're not going to tell me. Enigmatic as always."

"How drearily predictable that would be."

"You're aiming for dramatic effect, I understand."

Putting his hat on, he immediately cast his face into shadows. "Until we meet again."

"Indeed. Sooner rather than later."

With elegant composure, Mihawk exited through the cabin door, while the rhythmic echo of his footsteps gradually diminished into the distance. You buried your face in your pillow, reflecting on the previous night's events while unconsciously reaching for the cross pendant that rested on your collarbone.

“He gave you what??”

Isaiah's grin was so wide it could've stretched across the Grand Line. "Crazy, right? I couldn't believe my eyes when he threw that bag at me."

"And how much Seastone did he give you, exactly?"

He leaned against the back of his chair, his eyes gleaming with an enthusiasm you hadn't seen in ages. "Enough for an entire ship, I'm telling you. Modest in size, but substantial nonetheless."

"Well, he's certainly a man of surprises," you commented.

"I admit he gave me quite the jumpscare. When he appeared in my quarters, I genuinely thought he had come to claim my head out of jealousy."

"Oh come on. He's far more honorable than that."

"Yes, but put yourself in my shoes! I was here alone, minding my own business and making plans, when suddenly I turned around to find this imposing figure standing before me, watching with those piercing hawk-like eyes. What was I supposed to think? It's not as if I had any reason to expect his arrival."

“Mh. Touché.”

He sighed in amusement. "I was in complete shock, truly. I'd never think Mihawk himself would strike a deal with me. But, considering it was about you, I suppose it makes sense."

"I thought he mainly came to you to arrange the surprise meeting. This is definitely not what I was expecting."

"Yes, that was part of it too. But I couldn't tell you about the Seastone yet, I thought he'd be the one to break the news."

You shrugged. "I suppose he wanted to keep me in suspense about it."

Isaiah nodded. "In any case, it may take a while. I've got myself a potential crew, but installing the Seastone into the ship's hull is no small feat."

"Wait, you found a crew already? That's quite astonishing.”

"Oh, I've actually known these folks for a long time. I should introduce them to you, they're a bit eccentric, but all skilled and follow decent principles."

You smiled, resting your cheek on your hand as you leaned your elbow on the table. "You're absolutely glowing. You know that?"

"To be honest, I feel reborn. This kind of life was really starting to feel constricting."

"I know that feeling. Though I must say, crossing the Calm Belts is no easy task either way."

"No, and the travels will definitely take a bit longer than they would if we had to cross the Reverse Mountain. But it's much safer and would allow us to come and go much more easily."

Your eyes wandered thoughtfully as you contemplated the situation. "So, you're planning to move between the East Blue and the Grand Line? You won't be leaving permanently?"

"Not at the moment, no. I still have some business here in the East Blue. One day, however, I may just set sail and never return."

You pursed your lips. "I see."

"Hey, that's just talk for the future, yeah? It's not like I'm leaving tomorrow. Also, my offer still stands. I really want you to join me in this adventure."

“I don’t know…”

He reached for your arm, giving it a light, friendly squeeze. "Look, I get that crossing the sea to the Grand Line sounds pretty scary. It's a big leap of faith. But Mihawk came to me so that I could build a proper ship, and I doubt he'd do that just for me. In fact, he couldn't care less about me, Y/N. He did it for you. Because he wanted you to have a proper means to reach him. Would you rather stay here, waiting for him in the East Blue, with the high probability of Mihawk being unable to return?"

You groaned with frustration. "I'd rather not spend more months in uncertainty, never knowing what to expect."

"Precisely. So, are you seriously going to disregard his generous offer?"

Mihawk had gone to extraordinary lengths on your behalf, providing Isaiah with high-quality Seastone—a resource clearly acquired through unofficial channels, as the Marines would not supply such material without significant scrutiny—specifically to enable more convenient meetings between you. Realistically, you couldn't expect him to continually make the journey back indefinitely.

"At least meet my crew first, then decide if this is something you want to pursue. I'll support whatever choice you make, but Y/N… this is about how committed you are to Mihawk, more than anything else."

The notion of discontinuing your relationship with the Warlord was entirely unthinkable, particularly now that your connection was developing in such a meaningful direction. While formal declarations had not been exchanged, it was clear that Mihawk's dedication was surpassing mere casual interest. He had stated as much himself.

Furthermore, you had acknowledged the monotonous nature of your dealing profession, and were becoming progressively intrigued by the prospect of embarking on a new adventure. Especially one where you would be accompanied by reliable allies rather than facing challenges in isolation again.

Isaiah's proposal for intermittent travel between the East Blue and the Grand Line, rather than a permanent relocation, provided a significant advantage. This arrangement would afford you the opportunity to conduct a comprehensive analysis of the potential benefits and drawbacks.

And so, with careful deliberation, you agreed. "Alright, Isaiah. If you want to arrange a meeting, then I'll gladly meet this little crew of yours."

With another wide smile, Isaiah enthusiastically slapped his palm against the table. "You're going to love them, I'm sure!"

Given Isaiah's extensive network of reliable contacts, you anticipated meeting some of the finest professionals the East Blue had to offer as you returned to your friend's quarters two days later.

During this time, Mihawk made another unexpected visit, demonstrating an uncanny ability to locate you throughout your various business engagements. He displayed a keen interest in monitoring Isaiah's shipbuilding progress, expressing notable dissatisfaction upon learning the vessel was almost complete, and not yet seaworthy.

His impatience was rather uncharacteristic, though you appreciated his subtle anticipation regarding your potential presence in the Grand Line.

"You keep forgetting that nobody is like you," you told him with a grin. "You're formidable in everything you do, but there's only so much us commoners can achieve in a short amount of time."

"Hmph. Nothing but excuses reach my ears."

While you had yet to formally announce your participation, you found yourself increasingly drawn to accepting Isaiah's proposition. Though such a venture would typically warrant careful consideration, the opportunity to meet Mihawk more frequently served as a compelling factor in your decision-making.

"Just give him time. I'm sure everyone working on it is doing their best. Besides, I doubt you'd want shoddy workmanship that could leave me at risk of being devoured by sea creatures if the ship breaks down."

"Naturally. I procured this material from the most discerning of sources. Nothing less than perfection will suffice."

With a playful kiss on his nose, you offered a lighthearted reassurance. "And absolutely perfect it will be."

As you neared the door, animated chatter emanated from within the building. You felt a touch of uncertainty about the social dynamics ahead, having grown accustomed to solitary travel over the past year.

Isaiah's distinct footsteps approached before he greeted you with his typical warm smile as the door opened. "Ah, Y/N! Come in—we've been waiting for you."

Isaiah ushered you into the resting area, where five individuals were seated comfortably in the lounge, each holding a beverage. The room fell silent upon your entrance as the group turned their attention toward you with focused observation, their collective gaze carrying an air of assessment, as though conducting an informal evaluation of your presence.

Each member of the group had a distinct appearance and style, with an array of weaponry strategically placed throughout the room.

"Y/N, I'd like to present my crew… and hopefully yours as well."

Clearing your throat, you raised your hand in a tentative wave. "Hello."

"Now, allow me to make the introductions. This is Nyx Caine, our badass gunslinger. Though she's better known as 'Red Viper'. We usually call her Red."

The woman's crimson-painted lips curved upward in greeting. Her shoulder-length auburn hair complemented her refined gothic aesthetic, which consisted of a tailored black leather coat adorned with silver chain accents, and sturdy combat boots.

"Well, well, if it isn't the infamous Cutthroat. I must say, I'm quite a fan of your work."

"Uh... thanks?"

She laughed. "Come now, darling, there's no need for modesty. Escaping from an entire Marine base single-handedly? You make us women proud."

You couldn't help but chuckle. "Well, I suppose I deserve some credit for that."

"Damn right you do, Little Hawk!"

Noticing your confusion, Isaiah chuckled. "Yeah, she likes giving nicknames to everyone. You'll get used to it eventually."

"Not to mention that you even managed to tame Mr. Fancy Pants himself. Nobody in the whole world ever managed that," she continued, her voice rough and sultry.

"Don't ever let the Warlord hear you say that," remarked a bulky man with tan skin, a bald head covered in tribal tattoos, and dark green eyes.

"Oh, quiet down, Ironhide. Even that oversized sword of his won't intimidate me."

"Yeah, we all know your fondness for big things."

"Ugh, you're absolutely disgusting!"

Isaiah shook his head with amusement and turned to the man who had just spoken. "This tank of a guy is Dante Rourke, also known as 'Ironhide.' He's a hand-to-hand combat specialist who fights with sea prism stone-reinforced knuckle dusters."

Ironhide rotated his hand to display the knuckle duster, its metal gleaming in the light.

"Impressive," you observed.

"Thank you, thank you! A pleasure to meet you, miss!"

"Likewise," you replied with a polite nod.

Isaiah motioned toward the one sitting beside Red. "Next is that tall fellow there. Ronan Vale, though everyone calls him ‘Gigsaw’. He's a skilled knife fighter and, let me tell you, an incredible cook. You'll never have to worry about going hungry."

Gigsaw deftly manipulated his kitchen knife with practiced precision, demonstrating expert control. His distinguished presence was marked by silver-streaked black hair secured in a low ponytail, while an intricate tattoo depicting a mythical sea creature adorned his forearm. "I'm going to make your taste buds dance, sweetie!"

You smiled. "Good thing I love to eat. Having parents who run a tavern means it's in my blood."

"Oh, I like you already!"

Your attention turned to the subsequent individual, who was reclining casually against the bar counter in a somewhat inebriated state, prompting Isaiah to exhale wearily. "Jett is going to be our sharpshooter and navigator. He's actually incredibly smart when he's sober."

"Oh, please! I've only had one drink."

"Yes, one drink—five times in a row."

The man replied with a dismissive gesture, a cigar held in his right hand. He had messy dark brown hair, stubble, and a pair of goggles perched on his head. "I'm Jett Calder, my lady. You can call me 'Trickshot.'"

"Trick may act indifferent, but he always keeps a watchful eye on all of us," Isaiah explained.

"I can vouch for that," Red chimed in. "You won't find anyone more protective."

"Hey, I'm a navigator, not your damn babysitter."

Gigsaw laughed boisterously. "Yeah, but you love playing mother hen to all of us."

Amidst the jovial atmosphere, you took notice of the final crew member keeping a reserved distance from the group, his face notably more somber than his companions. His long silver-blond hair contrasted with his understated attire, giving him an ethereal presence that made him seem almost otherworldly.

"Last, but not least, we have Vigo 'Ghost' Orlan, our stealth expert and scout."

Vigo acknowledged you with a subtle nod, raising one hand in a silent greeting.

"Ghost has a wickedly dark sense of humor when he does speak, though he prefers to avoid pointless confrontations."

"My dude appears out of thin air, scaring the crap out of his crewmates for fun," Gigsaw remarked. "He truly lives up to his ghostly nickname, and that's exactly why he belongs with us."

Ghost responded with barely a reaction, offering Gigsaw a lazy side glance before delivering his reply in his characteristic deadpan tone. "Belong with you? Nah. I'm just here because the Grim Reaper keeps missing his appointments."

As silence descended, you watched Red roll her eyes toward the ceiling, trying to hide her emerging grin. "You're not funny, Ghost. If you're so eager to die, then stop fighting."

"Relax. If I do kick the bucket, you can use my skull as a cool cup. Think of the aesthetic.”

You bit back a laugh as Isaiah snickered behind his hand.

"Don't be crude. I'd rather punt your skull clear across the ocean."

The other three men shared a hearty chuckle, and the welcoming atmosphere helped ease your initial apprehension.

As Isaiah invited you to join them, Red graciously made space on the couch, though her enthusiastic motion nearly caused Gigsaw to lose his balance at the edge of the couch.

"Us ladies need to stick together. I can already tell we're going to be great friends."

"Well, Miss Y/N, looks like you're in for quite the chaotic adventure," Gigsaw declared, settling back onto the cushions. "We're no ordinary crew, that's for sure."

Accepting the invitation, you took your place beside Red, who proceeded to fill a fresh tankard and present it to you - a customary act signifying your welcome into their circle.

Raising your glass in a toast, you clinked it against Red's tankard while Isaiah took his position near Ironhide. The convivial atmosphere provided the reassurance you needed, and with a decisive nod, you communicated your acceptance to Isaiah's proposition.

Thus, you had officially aligned yourself with a formidable crew for your forthcoming expeditions.

"Honestly, ordinary is boring. I wouldn't want it any other way."

Your family responded with considerable concern regarding your planned expeditions through the Calm Belts and the Grand Line. However, their doubts were somewhat alleviated by the knowledge that you would have the opportunity to make return visits, as well as the reassurance of traveling alongside a capable and experienced crew who could offer support in combat.

After completing construction and thorough quality assurance of the vessel, Isaiah and the crew scheduled an initial voyage to test the ship's performance and establish effective team coordination. Nothing too ambitious - just a simple trial run to get familiar with the new waters and test the challenges that lay ahead.

Embarking on this adventure with an experienced group of fighters offered significantly more security and expertise than attempting to navigate independently, particularly given your limited experience beyond the East Blue region.

Docking your vessel at Isaiah's harbor to join the crew's ship marked a significant transition. As the assembled team made their final preparations on board, you contemplated the horizon, experiencing both exhilaration and trepidation about the trip ahead. The Grand Line, renowned among pirates for its extraordinary mysteries and formidable challenges, represented a path you had never envisioned pursuing until your encounters with Mihawk transformed your perspective on both the world and your own potential.

The crew completed final preparations for departure as a gentle breeze swept across the deck. The atmosphere was filled with the enthusiastic conversations of your companions, their voices carrying across the tranquil waters of the Calm Belts as you sailed past the familiar shipping lanes. The sea stretched out before you in an almost perfect mirror-like plane, disturbed only by the occasional glimpse of marine life in its depths. Most notably, the Seastone-lull technology proved as effective as Mihawk had anticipated, ensuring safe passage through these typically treacherous regions.

"That Hawk-Eyes certainly knows his craft," Trickshot observed, studying the map spread across the cabin table. "Whatever you did to win him over, I must say I'm impressed."

"I didn't really do anything special," you replied.

"Still, we can all benefit from this gift of his,” Red commented. “I've wanted to set sail for ages, but I wasn't exactly thrilled about crossing that damned mountain."

"Do you think the Warlord actually crosses it whenever he travels?" Ironhide wondered aloud.

Gigsaw smirked. "With that tiny boat of his? Not a chance."

"I mean, this is Dracule Mihawk we're talking about," Isaiah said. "I wouldn't be surprised."

"Speaking of which, Captain, have you given her the other gift yet?"

Isaiah froze, a sheepish grin appearing across his face at the realization.

"What other gift?" you asked. "Did he give you something else that I don't know about?"

Clearing his throat, Isaiah stood from his seat, rummaging through his various belongings carelessly thrown into a drawer. "Well... uh... he did. Took me a while to notice, actually. He didn't say a word. You're both lucky I didn't accidentally throw it away with the empty bag."

Red let out a scoff. "You almost did.”

Isaiah presented a polished wooden box, carefully placing it on the table before you. Upon opening the lid, you discovered a sophisticated transponder snail, a rare, advanced model typically reserved for high-ranking officials. The diminutive creature lay peacefully dormant within its elegant housing.

"This is likely a piece of history in your hands—a direct line to Dracule Mihawk himself!"

"Wait... you didn't actually call him to test your theory, did you?"

"Well, no. But it makes perfect sense, doesn't it? Why else would he give me a portable transponder? It's clearly meant for you."

Red leaned in for a closer look at the device. "And this isn't just any ordinary transponder. It's one of those specially configured for private lines."

You raised an eyebrow, looking at Isaiah. "What were you planning to do, wait until we got eaten by a Sea King to tell me about it?"

He waved his hands defensively. "Look, it slipped my mind! I've been so excited about this ship that I completely forgot about leaving it there."

"Gee, thanks," you said dryly.

While Isaiah appeared contrite, Ghost interjected with his sardonic wit. "If the Sea Kings don't get us, her wrath certainly will. Better say your prayers, buddy."

The group shared a collective laugh at the quip. With a good-natured shake of your head, you politely excused yourself, taking the transponder with you.

"Of course, give it a test run. Just don't mention anything inappropriate… you wouldn't want to scandalize these tough guys here."

Gigsaw gasped. "Red! What do you take us for?"

"Easy—you're all just a bunch of prude kids."

"You talk like I've never gotten laid in my life."

"What, with a fish?"

"I give up. I just can't deal with you, lady."

With a knowing smile and a graceful nod, you exited the cabin and made your way to the deck to have some privacy. You positioned the transponder appropriately and initiated the connection, crossing your arms over the railing as you awaited a response.

Having a way to finally communicate with Mihawk represented a significant improvement in your relationship, eliminating the uncertainty of his irregular appearances, if and when they might occur in the future. Gone were the days of anxious waiting without contact.

After a brief pause, the call was answered. At the sound of his distinctive voice, a reassuring warmth spread through your chest, drawing an instant grin to your lips. "Hey you. Thank you for giving me a way to reach you, I never thought I'd see the day."

"A pleasure to hear from you at last," he replied, his deep voice carrying a hint of amusement beneath the stern tone.

"Sorry. Isaiah only just showed me the transponder."

"I would be more surprised if things went according to plan.”

You chuckled. "Can you blame him, though? You did make him rather excited."

"Hmm. How very convenient to shift the blame in my direction," he replied with sardonic sarcasm.

"Well, at least you'll be pleased to know that I'm on my way to the Grand Line right now."

"News worth hearing."

"The crew wants to make a stop at the Isle of Forgotten Wagers. However, it will take us several days to reach it."

A brief silence ensued. "You must be joking. Out of all the islands in these vast waters..."

"What's wrong with that island? You're not fond of games?"

"Such childish games of chance and dueling hold no interest for me. I have better ways to spend my time than watching fools gamble away their dignity."

You hummed thoughtfully. "Well, they enjoy a good challenge, I suppose. Though gambling isn't really my thing either."

"Exercise caution. The casino belongs to a lord who prides himself on never losing a bet. And he still owes me a favor… one I intend to collect when the time is right.”

You sighed. "I see... that bad, huh? Of course our first adventure couldn't be a simple one."

"Stay vigilant. The truth in that place is as deceptive as the shadows themselves."

"Understood. The Grand Line certainly lives up to its reputation."

"As you should expect," he replied with his typical coldness.

Your lips curved into a wider smile as you turned, leaning your back against the railing. "Of course. I'm not having second thoughts, if that's what concerns you."

“Second thoughts?" Mihawk echoed. "You? I doubt anything could sway your stubborn resolve. Knowing you, I'd expect nothing less than plunging straight into trouble as soon as you set foot on land."

You laughed lightly, the sound carrying over the quiet whisper of the sea. "What can I say? I have a talent for keeping things interesting."

"Interesting is one word for it," he muttered, though there was a subtle gentleness to his tone that betrayed the grin likely tugging at his lips. "Do try to keep yourself in one piece. I’d rather not have to collect your reckless crew from the aftermath of some ill-advised escapade."

"Reckless?" you teased. "If I didn't know any better, I'd say you are worried about me.”

“Hardly,” he denied, his tone dipped into a velvety low, effortlessly cool. A moment later, however, it shifted back to its usual command. "When you reach the Grand Line, send word immediately. I shall provide guidance in case of... rising complications."

“Fine, I'll keep you updated… and try not to make your life too difficult in the meantime."

“See that you don’t.”

Your heart skipped a beat as you reached to turn off the transponder. But before you could end the call, he spoke again, his voice softening ever so slightly. "And take care of yourself."

Aw.

"You too," you said. "Though I suppose you're better at it than I am."

“Undoubtedly.”

You could hear the faintest hint of a smile slipping through before the line went quiet, the only sound remaining the soft glide of the ship through the tranquil waters. In the depths below, a massive marine creature gracefully maneuvered beneath the vessel, its fluid movements suggesting a peaceful acknowledgment of your presence, as though welcoming a fellow aquatic traveler.

The moment you crossed into the Grand Line, there was an unmistakable change in the atmospheric conditions and scents. The air carried an indescribable yet palpable energy, manifesting as an almost tangible presence in the environment. During brief stopovers at various ports, you noticed a distinct difference in the demeanor and disposition of the local inhabitants compared to those in the East Blue.

The Isle of Forgotten Wagers hummed with vibrant activity as various seafarers congregated to challenge their fortune. As soon as you arrived, your crew found themselves greeted by an array of merchants, each eagerly presenting their establishments and offering complimentary demonstrations of their gaming venues. Despite your cautionary relay of Mihawk's warning, the group decided to proceed with the visit, planning to acquire necessary supplies while participating in some casual entertainment. Though they acknowledged the inherent risks of gambling, the crew was confident in their strategic abilities to safeguard and potentially increase their financial resources.

The plan was straightforward and calculated; engage in a few select games at the casino before taking your leave, casually continuing to your next port of call. Surely nothing could go wrong on this seemingly simple excursion, right?

Wrong.

The casino was a magnificent architectural marvel. The opulent interior featured intricate gold embellishments and dazzling decorations that created a stunning visual display. As your eyes adjusted to the brilliant lighting, you took in the grandeur of the seemingly endless great hall, with its towering pillars and sweeping staircases extending in every direction.

One quick survey immediately revealed this was no ordinary gambling establishment. The games were far from conventional casino fare, with high-stakes competitions that pushed the boundaries of both skill and survival. Throughout the venue, seasoned pirates engaged in life-or-death card matches, while others tested their mettle in combat rings and exhibitions of precision skill. The place was filled with a cacophony of sounds, from triumphant celebrations and victorious cheers to frustrated outbursts and the occasional din of conflict.

During the first hour, operations proceeded according to expectations, with the crew experiencing minimal financial fluctuations as losses were effectively offset by subsequent victories. As the group moved through the various machines and tables, surveying the vast array of gaming equipment, a distinctive man wearing ostentatious sunglasses and sporting bright yellow hair abruptly intercepted Red's path, compelling her to stop. She kept her cool, regarding him with evident disdain, her hand instinctively moving toward her primary gun.

"I see you have some impressive weapons there, miss. Would you like to join our next game? Any competitor who hits the targets quickly enough instantly wins 10,000 berries. And as the challenge increases, so do the potential winnings!"

Gigsaw grimaced. "Yeah, leave it, Red. This reeks of a setup."

Trickshot nodded. "And if you lose, I'd bet you'll have to pay those 10,000 berries yourself."

The woman inhaled sharply, setting her jaw as she pressed her crimson lips together. "You speak as if defeat is certain. Come on, guys—you know I'm the finest shot in all of East Blue."

You leaned forward discreetly, speaking quietly over her shoulder. "Careful, Red. They're probably rigging most of these improvised games."

Red smiled, her tongue flicking out like a snake poised to strike. "If they do, I'll know right away, I assure you."

Isaiah gently pulled you back by the shoulder. "Don't bother, she's highly competitive."

While the crew members exchanged resigned glances, you observed that Ghost had disappeared into the bustling crowd, his presence no longer detectable within the expansive chamber.

"I accept," Red declared. "Bring your best man. I'll have him eating my dust."

The yellow-haired host leapt to his feet with excitement. "Excellent! This way, please—you won't find a better shooter than our champion, Big Cannon."

"Big Cannon? Really? Did it have to be something so suggestive? It definitely sends my mind in certain directions," she exclaimed with mischief.

The man cleared his throat in embarrassment as your companions snickered, clearly amused by the innuendo. "Heavens, Red. Get your mind out of the gutter!"

"Just teasing, lighten up!"

As entertaining as it seemed to be, an unsettling feeling crept over you as you looked at the shooting platform. Red took her position beside Big Cannon, an imposingly large man who demanded attention with his presence alone. You watched intently as he demonstrated his bravado, expertly manipulating his pistol before settling into a ready stance.

The host approached, carrying a rectangular box. "I must ask you to use these bullets instead. This ensures both competitors have an equal setup without unfair advantages."

With a trained eye, Red carefully examined the provided ammunition, methodically assessing their composition and specifications for any potential tampering. Satisfied with her inspection, she loaded her weapon accordingly.

"Ladies first, as they say," Big Cannon drawled.

"My, what a gentleman," she said sarcastically.

Taking up position with great precision, Red readied her weapon as the host directed the staff to arrange the targets - a row of glass bottles positioned along the floor.

"The rules are extremely simple: shoot all ten bottles in less than six seconds. Hit at least nine targets within the time limit to win the match. If your opponent matches your score, we'll reset with new targets."

Ironhide scoffed. "This is child's play. Red could hit those bottles blindfolded."

"Don't you think this seems suspicious?" Isaiah mused. "It's far too basic."

Given Mihawk's earlier warning, this seemingly beginner match likely concealed a more complex deception. After all, you had no reason to ever doubt the Warlord’s word.

"Ready... set... go!"

Before the timekeeper could complete his countdown, Red had already fired her first shot. In rapid succession, she discharged four more rounds with great accuracy and speed, the impacts only visible through the shattering of glass.

And yet, notwithstanding her exceptional marksmanship, only seven bottles were destroyed. The remaining targets stood conspicuously intact, appearing notably more robust than their broken counterparts.

"Seven out of ten in five and a half seconds. Not bad."

Though she remained silent, Red's expression betrayed her displeasure as Big Cannon stepped forward, dismissively gesturing for her to move aside.

"How likely is it that she would miss?" you inquired.

Isaiah let out a quiet sigh. "Honestly? It's extremely unlikely, Y/N. She's the finest gunslinger we've ever come across."

"Yeah, something's definitely not right here," Ironhide affirmed.

The deception came as no surprise. Mihawk's advice was always well-founded, and while treachery might be common in the East Blue, the Grand Line represented an entirely different magnitude of schemes and manipulation.

Big Cannon's technique immediately revealed evident inconsistencies. Despite his seemingly erratic aim and unsteady hand movements, each bottle shattered in precise succession, completing the sequence in exactly five seconds. Although you weren't a firearms specialist, your experience with weapons had taught you enough to recognize something was amiss.

"And once again, our champion strikes a well-deserved win! Good game indeed. I'm afraid you'll have to pay 10,000 berries, miss.”

Red's face flushed as crimson as her namesake lips and auburn hair.

“Care to try your luck again?" Big Cannon asked with a condescending smirk.

At that moment, it was clear that the situation was about to escalate dramatically.

"Oh, like hell I will!" Red's voice took on a stern, authoritative tone. "Why don't you show me those bullets of yours, asshole?"

"Miss, please remain calm. There's no need for accusations. I can assure you that all contestants receive identical sets."

Turning to the yellow-haired man, she gritted her teeth and backed him against a column. "Prove it then. Let your 'Big Cannon' here show his bullets. And while we're at it, I want to check those bottles. Is this your game plan? Luring in thousands of clients from every sea just to swindle them out of their berries to cover your daily losses?"

"N-no, everything is completely legitimate."

"Oh yeah? Then you won't mind if I verify that myself."

His eyes darted nervously back and forth, silently pleading with Big Cannon to intervene. In response, Red's opponent raised his gun, pressing its barrel directly against the back of her head. "How about you taste my bullets firsthand?"

In an instant, Trickshot drew his rifle from his back holster, leveling the barrel at Cannon's head. "You'll taste mine before you can move an inch. That's no way to treat a lady."

Isaiah rolled his eyes, placing one hand on his hip in exasperation. "Why can't things ever be easy?"

"Well, we saw this coming,” you clarified.

Gigsaw fidgeted with his kitchen knife. "Yep, but you'll soon learn we're a stubborn bunch."

"After all, this is the Grand Line,” Ironhide pointed out, staring at his brass knuckles. “The East Blue lies far behind us now."

"Where did Ghost disappear to? He's been missing for a while," you said, scanning the room but seeing no trace of his distinctive attire or long silver hair.

"Oh, don't worry about him, he's playing his usual phantom role. He'll appear soon enough with some clever scheme in mind.”

The yellow-haired man retreated from Red's intimidating presence, anxiously wringing his hands as his glasses slid down his nose. Big Cannon remained steadfast in his posture, unfazed by Trickshot, Ironhide, and Gigsaw's strategic positioning around him as Red drew her secondary gun, her aim unwavering and deadly with bullets that would certainly not miss.

"Come now, this needn't turn into violence. I'm certain we can reach a more civilized solution."

"Yeah, right—like I'm going to pay you money I don't even owe?"

"You could always ask for a rematch," Cannon grinned. "But if you lose again, the debt doubles."

Trickshot sighed in exasperation. "Maybe we should have listened to Hawk-Eyes, after all."

Isaiah scowled. "Yeah, but as you said, you're all a bunch of stubborn fools."

Gigsaw laughed. "Unstoppable fools, indeed."

"Either way, I demand a proper examination,” Red stated firmly. “Otherwise, I'll tell everyone what kind of cheating bastards you really are!"

As Red's voice rose, the commotion began drawing attention from nearby patrons, who turned to observe the unfolding confrontation with growing interest. The host's composure visibly faltered as perspiration formed on his brow, while Big Cannon held his threatening stance, weapon still trained on Viper.

Assessing the situation, the options appeared extremely limited. Any attempt to expose the casino's fraudulent practices would likely result in an intense altercation, a scenario you weren't keen to face given your first venture into the Grand Line. The alternative would be to pay the 10,000 berries fee, though Red's strong-willed nature and sense of justice would almost certainly prevent such a peaceful resolution.

"If anything, you should be paying me damages for your scam."

"My, my... what bold accusations I hear. What's going on here, by all the seas?"

A commanding voice resonated through the room as an imposing figure emerged. The man wore a finely tailored suit that accentuated his robust frame, and his meticulously styled hair gleamed under the ambient lighting. A prominent diagonal scar bisected his features, extending from above his nose to the left corner of his mouth.

"One does not simply make allegations of fraud about my casino."

Red arched an eyebrow. "Yet it seems you have plenty to hide."

The man snickered menacingly. "Oh, but you're quite the guest in my little gold mine. Everyone who comes here plays by the rules and pays their dues when they lose. It seems to me you simply can't accept defeat."

"Then I'm sure we won't find anything suspicious about your man's bullets or the bottle setup," you said, crossing your arms.

Turning to face you, the man’s grip tightened around his ornate cane adorned with golden inlays. His eyes lit up with sudden recognition as he methodically studied your presence, circling you with calculated precision.

"Well, I'll be damned, if it isn't the infamous Cutthroat from the East Blue."

"How delightful that my reputation precedes me, even in the Grand Line," you growled.

"Oh, but it's not just about who you are. I've heard whispers, rumors carried on the wind. Word is you're quite... intimate with a certain Warlord—one that I happen to know quite well myself. Though in the end, who doesn't?"

You rolled your eyes. "And your point would be?"

He shrugged. "Oh, nothing in particular. I'm merely stating facts. Since you haven't denied any of it, I suppose that makes them true, doesn't it?"

"Um, hello? I'm still here," Red intervened. "Perhaps you should mind your own business about the lady's private matters and focus more on my fucking rigged game."

"Right, right. First of all, let's all lower our weapons. We wouldn't want to spoil the day for all these fine people in the casino, would we?"

Red tapped her foot, refusing to withdraw as Big Cannon kept his pistol trained on her. "Yeah, your man first."

The casino owner gestured dismissively with his bejeweled hand. At his signal, Cannon lowered his weapon with visible reluctance, holstering it with a disgruntled huff.

"Ah, where are my manners? I haven't properly introduced myself, have I? I'm Croupier Saul. Delighted to make your acquaintance."

Before he could take hold of your hand for a vicious kiss, Isaiah instinctively stepped forward to create a barrier between the two of you. "Yeah, pleasure and all. But if you don't mind, we'd like to get this sorted."

Saul smiled maniacally, laughing through clenched teeth. "But of course. I'm afraid you'll have to pay your debt one way or another. How much was that again?"

"10,000 berries," the yellow-haired man responded.

"Well, that would be worth two days of full-time work here. So here's my proposition: if you can't pay what you owe, I can have you work for me until your debt is settled."

"Are you kidding me? Why should I waste two days of my life in this dump when you're the one who cheated?"

Gigsaw scratched his chin nonchalantly. "Look, I get you, Red. But wouldn't it be best to just give them the damn money and leave? There isn't really much for us to gain here, after all."

"It's 10,000 berries! We can't just let them get away with this injustice! They're evidently doing it every single day, dragging new customers into these makeshift games just to double their profits through deception."

Isaiah clicked his tongue. "We knew this was a possibility, yet you still chose to participate."

"Oh, so now I'm the one at fault for trying to enjoy myself?"

"All I hear is one accusation after another," Saul cut in. "For such outrageous conduct, I'll double your debt to 20,000 berries."

“What??”

Isaiah released a frustrated grunt, stepping away to stabilize his breathing.

"But I am known to be a gentleman,” he continued. “So if you wish, I shall offer you another alternative."

Gigsaw examined the gleaming metal of his knife. "And that would be?"

"Another game. One I would personally take part in. A round of cards, easy peasy. A timeless classic."

“The casino belongs to a lord who prides himself on never losing a bet.”

Mihawk's cautionary words echoed in your mind. The outcome would inevitably favor Saul, regardless of your team's capabilities, unless you could hope to outmaneuver him at his own game.

Trickshot shifted his rifle on his shoulder. "Right, as if we could trust you."

"Oh, but I'm an honest man. Still, if you don't want to play, that's fine. It's not as if you don't have other options, right?"

His predatory gaze, filled with malice, suggested his actions were motivated more by personal amusement than financial gain.

His true intentions became clear as his eyes settled on you once more. "I'd rather enjoy a good game of cards with Miss Cutthroat herself. I wonder if your skills at evasion live up to the tales."

"Hey, leave her out of this," Red protested, pulling you protectively to her side. "I was the one involved. If you want to play this game, it'll be with me."

"Ah, but I have other plans in mind. Unless, of course, you're ready to pay up—or perhaps earn your keep working here in my casino. What's a mere few days, in the grand scheme of things?"

"Few days? But you just said two! Not that I'd ever agree to that."

He shrugged. "Two days for 10,000. But like I said, it's already gone up to 20,000. So, what will it be? Are you really that afraid of playing cards with me, Miss Cutthroat?"

"Y/N, don't fall for it," Isaiah gripped your wrist gently. "He's just toying with you, don't bother."

"Yeah, I'm already fed up with this crap," Trickshot sighed. "How about we apologize for the inconvenience caused and provide the initial 10,000 berries?"

"Because we need to save every coin we can, Trick! And I refuse to waste it on these cheaters."

Gigsaw shook his head. "Red, come on, that's enough. This isn't worth the trouble. We can't afford to make enemies when we've barely crossed into the Grand Line."

“And he still owes me a favor… one I intend to collect when the time is right.”

Suddenly, an idea crystallized in your mind with striking clarity. Though potentially risky and unconventional, it aligned with the resourceful approach you had cultivated during your journey through the East Blue. Your intuition, honed by experience, suggested this crafted gambit might prove worthwhile.

Moreover, this time you possessed a strategic upper hand: direct access to Mihawk through secure communications, which could prove to be a valuable asset.

A satisfied smile spread across your lips as you softly pulled away from Red's hold. "I accept the challenge."

Your companions exchanged startled glances, their expressions betraying collective surprise at your unexpected decision. Saul's face brightened visibly as Isaiah leaned in close, his arm firmly guiding you aside for a private word. "What are you doing? Weren't you the one who was against this whole thing in the first place?"

"I was, but I know what I'm doing, Isaiah."

"Look, I hate to say this, but I doubt your judgment right now. Losing 10,000 berries would be better than any of these alternatives."

"He's already doubled the stakes. He won't accept just 10,000 berries and empty apologies."

Turning his head, Isaiah studied the casino lord's sinister demeanor. "You have a point, but Y/N, what about all those lectures on being mindful? Now you're acting just as stubbornly as Red?"

"Like I said, I know what I'm doing. Just trust me, okay?"

Turning back to Saul, you gave him a firm nod. "I'm in."

"Ah, splendid. Let me lay out the terms. Should you win, I'll wipe away your debt entirely, and you'll be free to roam the town as you please."

Isaiah's lips twisted into a grimace. "And if she loses?"

"Well, in that case, you'll have to work for me… for the rest of the month."

A collective gasp swept through the area as your eyebrows shot up.

Trickshot growled. "Could you be any more sadistic? I bet in a month from now we'd have to win our freedom through another game, or pay 100,000 berries to buy our way out."

Though the stakes were significantly higher than anticipated, making your decision more consequential, your resolve remained unshaken. "How about this instead? If I win, you pay us 50,000 berries."

The game was most definitely on.

"Mmm... well, that seems fair. So, shall we, my dear?"

Saul escorted the group to a secluded table in the spacious VIP section of the hall, accompanied by the host and Big Cannon, who caressed his weapon obsessively, like a treasured pet. Following behind, Red kept her cool, casually handling her own pistol as she spun it skillfully between her fingers.

"Well, well, looks like our Little Hawk has some guts. Not that I ever doubted that."

"We're doomed," Isaiah muttered.

"Oh, come now. Don't be so dramatic."

“You started it, Red.”

You reached into your leather jacket pocket and retrieved your portable transponder, discretely placing it in your ear before offering your crew a subtle wink. Isaiah's expression shifted from concern to understanding as he comprehended your strategy, his earlier apprehension visibly subsiding.

"Hold on. what's she up to? Is that the transponder from the Warlord?"

"Seems like it. What, is she planning to call him for gambling advice?"

Isaiah chuckled. "Seems like she knows what she's doing after all."

With a wave of your hand, you replied, "Come on, you've known me long enough. Have a little faith in me, won't you?"

The round table in front of you was carefully set with playing cards, while a dealer in pristine white attire expertly shuffled and arranged them with precision, ensuring each card was perfectly aligned. As Saul took his seat, Big Cannon and the yellow-haired man positioned themselves on either side, assuming their positions with professional composure.

Taking the offered chair across from him, you settled in as your crew gathered protectively behind you. With practiced subtlety, you adjusted your hair and casually touched your ear, activating the transponder's connection while ensuring your movements appeared natural to Saul and his associates.

The call initiated instantly, but when Mihawk's voice came through, you were unable to give him any audible response.

"I must say, of all the famous faces that have drifted through these waters, I never expected to find you in my casino."

As the dealer distributed cards to both sides, you answered with a tight grin. "I'm no celebrity, but I'll take that as a compliment."

Several onlookers congregated discreetly to observe the match, as the staff served premium beverages to the exclusive table. Through the transponder, Mihawk stayed quiet, studying the situation with characteristic restraint as the gentle sounds of distant waves carried across the line.

"Oh, it is, but I must disagree. Your name has become quite notable. Though I suspect that's due to your... association with our dear Warlord."

As the first hand commenced, your careful scrutiny revealed no immediate signs of manipulation in the dealing process. A strategic approach, perhaps, allowing opponents to develop a false sense of security before executing the planned subterfuge.

"I'm curious though - how did you manage to tame him? Not even his closest allies seem able to penetrate that icy exterior."

Your jaw tightened as you placed a card down. "Tame him? Who do you think he is? We're talking about a person, not a pet."

Saul let out a snicker. "Well, yes. But everyone describes him as a bird of prey. And no, it's not just because of his eyes."

And then, your gaze caught a forming pattern that had been absent before; a seemingly casual scratch behind his ear followed by a deliberate tap on the table. These gestures, while looking normal, emerged as consistent signals throughout subsequent rounds.

You were losing, evidently so. But for the time being, you decided to play along.

"I have quite a history with Hawk-Eyes, you know," he continued. "He still owes me."

"Owes you? Hmph. That's not the story I've heard."

With each tap, the dealer made almost imperceptible adjustments to the deck's position.

"Ah, so he's mentioned me, has he? I'm honored."

You crossed your legs and leaned back in your chair with casual confidence, checking your cards while your eyes darted between Saul and the dealer. "Don't get worked up."

Isaiah moved closer. "Y/N, this isn't going to end well. You're at a disadvantage here."

Red playfully swatted the back of his head. "Stop being such a downer and let her handle this!"

Another sign: Saul made a light motion and touched his cufflink, something that prompted the dealer to misalign one of the cards.

"Tell me your secret. How did you ensnared him in your web? There must be more to your charms than mere beauty."

Your mind raced as you formulated your plan. "I didn't ensnare anyone. He's a free man, and the strongest swordsman you'll ever come across. Say what you will, but your ridiculous speculations won't get you anywhere—except perhaps one step closer to his blade."

He laughed again, but this time, you executed a strategic maneuver, placing your cards in an unexpected configuration.

You weren't the only one capable of deploying subtle tactics. With expert discretion, you noticed Ghost materializing silently behind the dealer, his movements fluid and precise. His hands, concealed within his coat pockets, carried out a masterful sleight of hand as he strategically positioned additional cards within your reach.

"You possess quite a strong character, my dear. Most admirable. You'd make an excellent attraction in my casino."

"I wouldn't be so certain about that."

"Why not? You're beautiful, you're defiant, and you clearly have a knack for captivating even the most inaccessible men."

You sighed. "No, what I mean is, you can't be so sure I'll be part of your crew, because you're going to lose."

"Oh, from where I'm sitting, it appears quite the opposite."

With his usual stealth, he withdrew a card from his sleeve, seamlessly integrating it into his deck. Such a classic trick, one you could also do with ease.

And he wasn’t even unaware of how transparent his duplicity was.

"This has been an amusing game, sweetheart, but I'm afraid we're drawing to a close. Though if you wish, we could play another round, with much higher stakes."

Through the transponder, you detected Mihawk's measured breathing, that unmistakable cadence that signaled his growing irritation.

"No, I'll be just fine with this round, trust me."

He shrugged. "Well, suit yourself. Either way, I come out ahead."

You scoffed. "You should be more subtle with your tells. They're not nearly as clever as you believe."

With perfect timing, you set your final move into action. As Saul revealed his Straight Flush with evident satisfaction, you wore a facade of disappointment before methodically placing your cards on the table, unveiling a superior hand that secured your victory. Saul's arrogance faltered as he stiffened, his expression shifting from assured to ashen as the realization sank in. The dealer and his associates stood motionless, their poise giving way to visible disbelief.

You interlaced your fingers beneath your chin and tilted your head. "Royal Flush. Looks like I won the match."

Your friends celebrated with restrained enthusiasm as you and Ghost exchanged a fist bump. Saul's calmness rapidly deteriorated, his expression darkening with undisguised fury. Rising abruptly, he knocked over both his chair and cane. In a display of unbridled anger, he seized the dealer's collar and began berating him, his words punctuated with intensity.

"What the hell did you do? I gave you specific instructions! Why does she have those cards?!"

"I—I... I don't know, I swear!"

"Ah, so you're admitting to cheating. Perhaps you'd like to speak a bit louder… your patrons seem quite interested in hearing the details."

Saul's face paled as he took notice of the growing crowd of spectators surrounding the table. A wave of discontent rippled through the assembled patrons, accompanied by the distinctive sound of weapons being readied.

Saul jabbed an accusatory finger at you, his face etched with worry. "Y-you...! You're the one who cheated! How could you possibly have a Royal Flush?!"

"It's called strategy," you said with your sharpest lie.

"Not a chance! You rigged the game, so now you'll work in my casino for a WHOLE YEAR!"

The transponder connection ended with a soft click as a sly grin spread across your lips. "I don't think so. Why don't you just admit that you play dirty?"

The crowd of agitated patrons pressed forward, demanding restitution for their previous losses. Big Cannon responded by raising his weapon in a defensive posture, silently warning the approaching mob of pirates and merchants. Meanwhile, the yellow-haired man retreated beneath the table, assuming a fetal position while muttering incoherent prayers.

In a swift movement, Saul retrieved his cane and extracted a concealed blade, pointing it at you. "If you won't accept my terms, perhaps it's time for a harsh lesson. You may get away with such tricks in the East Blue, but you'll find the Grand Line isn't quite so forgiving."

As your crew took combat stances with all weapons drawn, a transponder snail's ring pierced the tense atmosphere. Saul surveyed the room cautiously, eyes wide and sweating profusely, before directing the dealer to answer the call. The man in question, hands raised, approached the transponder snail resting on a silver tray. Though he established the connection and began speaking, the crowd's uproar made it impossible to discern the caller's voice.

The dealer returned moments later, holding the tray with trembling legs that threatened to buckle beneath him. "S-sir, it's for you."

Saul growled in frustration, lowering his sword as he snatched up the receiver. "Who the hell is this?!"

The voice that resonated was smooth and refined, like velvet over steel. "I see you're still playing your amateurish little games."

Mihawk.

Saul froze like a marble statue as his cane sword clattered to the floor once more. "M-Mihawk... you... to what do I owe this pleasure?"

"The match is over, she has outplayed you fair and square. Accept your defeat with dignity and honor your debts for once in your miserable existence."

"What... how do you...?"

"You still owe me a debt, and now it's time to collect. I'll make this very simple: release her immediately, pay her crew 100,000 berries in compensation, and return every single gold piece you've stolen from your patrons today. No exceptions. This is not a negotiation."

Saul collapsed into his chair, running a hand through his hair and destroying its perfect styling. "But... I—I can't afford all that!"

"Yes, you do," Ghost intervened, reaching inside his coat. "I took some time to explore the place. There's quite an interesting room hidden upstairs."

Your companion produced a cloth bag and placed it on the table with considerable force, causing the surface to vibrate. The contents that spilled forth were damning: substantial quantities of gold and precious gems, manipulated playing cards and decks, fraudulent casino chips, and detailed schematics revealing an elaborate system designed to control various gaming mechanisms throughout the establishment.

“How dare you—”

"Ah, my apologies. I was saving the best part for last."

Ghost took a black leather notebook from his pocket, opened it, and slid it across the table to Saul. "Quite an interesting list you've got here; patrons' names and financial operations, leverage material, and bribes paid to local officials and pirates."

"What the hell? All the games I played were rigged? Give me my damn gold back!"

"Yeah, me too!"

"This place is a fraud!"

It was quite satisfying to watch the patrons' rage unfold.

Meanwhile, Saul descended into visible panic. "You had no right to—"

"And what gives you the right to perpetrate all this deception?" Gigsaw inquired heavily.

“Your house of cards is missing a few support beams,” Ghost remarked in his deadpan tone.

“You little—”

Mihawk spoke again, his exquisite voice, though slightly muffled through the transponder, cut through the air like a razor. "Your dishonor belongs to you alone," he said with cold finality. "But your debt is mine to claim. In full."

"You!" a man shouted, turning to Ghost. "You mentioned a hidden room. Is there more of that stuff up there?"

"What you see here is merely a fraction of what's stored inside that vault."

"Where exactly is it?"

"Wait, don't—!"

"Upper floor, third room on the right, behind the false wine rack."

What followed was a spectacular display of collective action. The patrons exchanged knowing glances, their eyes alight with purpose, before breaking into thunderous pandemonium that resonated throughout the structure. Despite Saul's attempts to regain control, his protests were drowned out by the deafening chaos.

"What the hell are you doing standing there like dead fish?" he reproached Big Cannon. "You've got a gun—use it!"

Big Cannon raised his pistol with visible uncertainty, aiming haphazardly at one of the patrons ascending the stairs. Before he could pull the trigger, a precise shot rang out, knocking the weapon from his grasp.

Red. "Seems like I didn't miss this time, eh?"

At that point, Saul's pretense of control crumbled completely. He slammed his fists against the table in unrestrained desperation, his dignified demeanor giving way to a stream of vulgar expletives.

"Your petulant outbursts accomplish nothing," Mihawk said with icy authority. "Respect the terms, or you'll discover that losing your vault's contents will be the least of your concerns."

Saul slumped in defeat, both physically and mentally, his gaze fixed on the ceiling as the sounds of destruction echoed from above. The casino floor had emptied considerably, with only a handful of uninvolved patrons remaining in the halls. With a resigned gesture to his dealer, Saul initiated the final settlement. The dealer hurriedly departed, returning moments later bearing a substantial chest. Upon its opening, Red's appreciative whistle confirmed the considerable sum of banknotes within.

"Here's your 100,000 berries, as instructed. Now get the hell out of my casino. I never want to see any of you again," he snarled, his voice heavy with humiliation. "And Mihawk—this isn't over."

"Oh, it most certainly is," the Warlord retorted. "Consider this a singular opportunity to establish a respectable enterprise."

As the transmission ended, you stood with well-earned superiority, looking at Isaiah securing the chest and hoisting it onto his shoulder.

"And to think you didn't want to come. Quite a profitable visit, wouldn't you say?"

"Look who's talking! You were practically trembling in your boots."

"I wasn't talking to you, Red."

Turning your attention to Ghost laughingly, you watched him silently inscribing a message on one of the collected cards. Upon inspection, his refined handwriting revealed: “The house always wins… except when the ghosts come knocking.”

With a flourish, he tossed the card towards Saul, who remained immobile as it settled gracefully before him, the message clearly visible.

As you headed out, Red draped an arm around your shoulder and gently brushed her hair away from her face. "Not bad for our first adventure in the Grand Line, eh, Little Hawk?"

Ghost strolled casually beside her. "I knew it would be a good day the moment you said ‘Bring your best man’. We both cause problems, mine just come with receipts.”

Ironhide chuckled appreciatively at the remark, offering Ghost an approving pat on the back. Gigsaw methodically returned his blade to its sheath as warm sunlight greeted the group upon your exit.

Red rolled her eyes so dramatically they nearly vanished into her head. "Shut up, smartass. I wasn't talking to you."

Mihawk held you against the wooden wall of the dining cabin, your fingers threading through his dark hair as his hat lay forgotten on the floor. The air filled with the passionate sounds of your kisses, his tongue as demanding as your own, moving with equal intensity.

"Careful now," you murmured against his lips. "We shouldn't get too carried away… the others might hear us."

"So be it."

"I’m serious. I won't get intimate with you while they're right outside the door."

His hand tightened around your thigh, making you yelp. "Perhaps you should practice the art of discretion," he said, his voice a low, refined purr.

"Oh no, I won't let this become another training session," you chuckled. "I mean it, Mihawk. I want this moment to be just for us, not for everyone else to overhear."

"Fascinating how your body betrays your true desires," he asserted.

You pleaded, closing your eyes as his mouth descended to your neck. "I… I value my privacy."

He nibbled softly and complied, humming against your skin. "Very well, as you wish. I must admit, I rather delight in the sound of your surrender."

"Something I'm sure you don't feel like sharing," you retorted with a smile.

"Correct."

With a final kiss, Mihawk withdrew from your form, allowing you to release a shaky sigh and clear your throat while adjusting your crumpled jacket. "That was quite fun, by the way. You should have seen Saul's face from the other side of the communication. It was priceless."

"I suspect he will spend quite some time lamenting the unfortunate state of his affairs," he remarked with indifference.

"What goes around comes around, after all."

"Your strategy proved most impressive," he declared, picking up his hat from the floor and returning it to his head.

"Calling you? Or cheating my way through the final hand?"

"Both tactics demonstrated exceptional cunning."

"I certainly had some help there. He never would have let us leave so easily otherwise, would he?"

He pulled out a rolled paper from his coat, unfolded it, and laid it on the table before you. "He is not a man of honor, enslaving those who lose to his schemes. A most contemptible practice," he stated with disdain, his tone carrying a note of disgust.

"Indeed. What’s this, by the way?"

Inspecting the detailed Grand Line navigational chart, you noticed a black marker indicating a specific island within close proximity to your current maritime position.

"I shall be anchoring here tomorrow. Your presence would be most welcome."

You blinked in surprise. "Why would you want me there? The island appears completely deserted."

"There is a pressing matter that demands my attention," he explained. "Must I require a reason to desire your company?"

With a bemused smile, you shook your head. "No, I suppose not. I was just curious."

Mihawk responded with a quiet sound of acknowledgment, followed by a moment of silent eye contact. Then, he gently placed his hand on your jaw, lifting your chin to press a brief, tender kiss to your lips.

Savoring his unique aroma and taste, you directed the conversation elsewhere. "What's your opinion of my crew? They may seem unruly, but I assure you they're great."

"They are of little concern to me. What matters is the path forward."

You nodded thoughtfully. "So you've made peace with Isaiah then?"

"Peace is a bold claim. Let him maintain appropriate distance from you, and we shall have no quarrel."

"Mihawk, we're literally crewmates sharing the same ship. How could he possibly do that?"

His mouth formed a disapproving line. "I expect you to uphold appropriate boundaries in your personal quarters, unless there's something requiring discussion."

"Really? I thought I had made myself perfectly clear about this."

"My faith in you is absolute. It is others whose intentions I find questionable."

With a gentle laugh, you traced your fingers along the collar of his coat. "I told you, we're just good friends. Besides, no man would be foolish enough to defy you."

"Then he would do well to remember that my gesture of tolerance was not extended for his advantage."

"I know," you whispered against his cheek. "You gave him the Seastone specifically so he could accompany me safely, didn't you?"

"While your strength is admirable, the Grand Line is not meant to be faced in solitude."

You arched an eyebrow. "Says the man who perpetually sails alone."

"I stand apart from such concerns."

"Aye, aye."

As he prepared to depart, Mihawk indicated the marked island on the map with a light tap, although your eyes were drawn to the elegant contours of his knuckles. "Make certain you arrive shortly after daybreak. Do not keep me waiting."

"Very well, but don't blame me if the others object."

"If they object, perhaps they lack the fortitude required for life on these perilous seas."

You playfully poked his abdomen with a feather-light touch. "Only because they owe you their presence here in the first place. And because they know I like you."

Before he could pull you in for another kiss, a firm knock echoed from beyond the door. Red's voice carried clearly through the wooden barrier with her characteristic playful tone.

"Hey, Fancypants! Don't you dare do any dirty stuff on that table. I'd like to eat without having questionable mental images!"

Mihawk's subtle groan of annoyance was deliciously entertaining.

"Don't worry, Red," you called out through laughter. "The table is fine."

"Just the table?"

Upon opening the door, you spotted her wide smirk spreading across her lips, which suggested she was deliberately provoking the Warlord in jest.

"Care to inspect yourself?"

"Ew, no thanks, Little Hawk. I'll take your word for it."

Ironhide appeared from behind her, shaking his head. "Oh, for heaven's sake. Why do you have to be such a troublemaker? Give these two their freaking moment, you little viper."

"Well, that's why I'm called—ouch! Don't pull me like that, you brute!"

Ironhide firmly dragged Red away from the dining room entrance, her protests fading as they moved down the corridor, her legs splaying comically as her feet slid over the planks.

"Must they engage in such theatrics?" Mihawk inquired.

"Oh hush. You're the most theatrical man alive, and you know it."

He placed a light peck on your head before taking his leave, his boots echoing rhythmically as he strode toward the exit. "There is a certain finesse that distinguishes mere savagery from artful execution. Do not fail to be present at the appointed time tomorrow."

You dissolved into uncontrollable giggles, watching him disappear with such a dramatic flourish that it only made the scene more hilarious. "As if I could ever forget."

Oh, how deeply you loved that man.

Upon anchoring at the island, you disembarked with anticipation building in your chest. Even after all this time, encountering Mihawk still stirred the same intense emotions as your first meeting. Though you sometimes questioned the depth of your response, especially given his outward restraint that veiled his true feelings from view, your yearning remained undeniable.

However, on that particular day, you had an additional reason to feel utterly enchanted.

While your crew ventured to nearby ports for supplies, you proceeded along the shoreline in solitude, guided by distant voices carried on the breeze. As you advanced, a sizeable gathering of people gradually came into clearer view in the distance; several pirates reclining casually on the beach while holding their drinks, as Mihawk appeared elegantly perched on a rock with a glass of wine in hand. It was a rather unusual hour for alcohol consumption, but such customs were deeply personal matters that warranted respect.

Your attention was immediately drawn to a man beside the Warlord. The individual's distinctive features were unmistakable; striking red hair, three prominent scars across one eye, wearing a black leather jacket fastened by a front clasp, its empty left sleeve hanging loose. The sight stopped you in your tracks, your mouth felling open as you squinted and blinked, making sure your morning eyes weren't playing tricks on you.

Although you weren't intimately familiar with every notable figure in the pirate world, he was instantly recognizable from countless stories you had heard circulating across the East Blue, along with the enormous bounty the World Government had placed on his head. Sitting just a short distance away was none other than Shanks, the renowned captain of the Red Hair Pirates, extraordinarily powerful despite losing an arm and extremely influential throughout the seas. His reputation was multifaceted - a man who commanded both fear and respect, while displaying an apparently laid-back demeanor in his travels. Regardless of his casual disposition, all accounts consistently acknowledged his incredible capabilities.

Their relaxed interaction suggested a longstanding acquaintance between the two legendary swordsmen. You were frozen in place, contemplating your next move, completely unsure about how to proceed. After a moment's pause, you continued walking toward the assemblage, where boisterous laughter and celebration filled the air. As Red Hair's keen gaze detected your presence, he leaned toward Mihawk and murmured something, prompting the Warlord to turn his attention in your direction.

Rising gracefully, Mihawk set down his glass and strode toward you, his coat billowing regally in the wind. As he approached, you offered a smug grin, playfully crossing your arms. "Of all the scenarios I imagined when you requested my presence here, sharing drinks at such an early hour certainly wasn't among them."

"I assure you, declining their invitation would be unwise."

"What's the occasion, then?"

"A young pirate has received his first bounty."

“Who?”

"The boy, Monkey D. Luffy. We discussed him not long ago."

"Oh, he did? Well, that's quite something.”

"I find it strange that such news did not reach your ears," he stated, each word carefully enunciated.

"I've been rather preoccupied lately—thanks to a certain someone who persuaded me to leave the East Blue."

"By all means, retreat to your familiar waters if these seas prove too demanding."

You laughed softly, shaking your head. "And miss the chance to meet one of the most famous pirates of all time? No way."

His eyes darted to the side in annoyance, to which you responded with a light touch against his chest.

“Anyway, I suppose it was inevitable given Strawhat’s recent feats. But what's their connection to him?"

"That straw hat originally belonged to the man you see before you.”

Your eyes widened in amazement. "Whoa. So not only is he Admiral Garp's grandson, but he's also received a memento from none other than Red-Haired Shanks? That boy certainly has an impressive lineage."

"And you surely understand the importance of punctuality,” he observed smugly. “Just another of your many virtues."

You smirked. "I made it clear to the others that if they made me arrive late, I'd chase them across the entire ship."

“I expect nothing less”

“Are you impressed?”

"I had no need to be impressed. I already knew you would honor my request.”

"You're quite hard to please, except in the bedroom."

His silent inhale to suppress any comment made you fight back laughter, though you didn't get the chance to fully express it.

“Now come. We should not keep them waiting longer than necessary.”

Mihawk turned on his heels and proceeded back toward the gathering, with you following closely behind. Given the widespread circulation of information across the Grand Line, you suspected Shanks and his crew were already well-aware of your connection to the Warlord. Whether they were expecting your arrival was uncertain, however, as was the true reason for your presence among them.

"Enlighten me. What exactly am I doing here?"

“You always ask too many questions.”

"And you're always far too fond of being cryptic."

As you walked on, Mihawk grew quiet, his silence preventing further inquiries while you approached the group of pirates. Red hair smiled, a radiant smile that lit up his face like an overjoyed child when you arrived, like the distant sun breaking through the horizon. He exuded warmth and gentleness, with an undeniable handsomeness—yet your heart already belonged elsewhere.

While a part of you felt a little self-conscious, his wholehearted reaction immediately dispelled any lingering discomfort.

"Well then," he said, his voice carrying both charm and authority. "Look who our dear Hawk-Eye has brought to join us, boys."

"She is not here for your entertainment."

"Come now. You can't honestly expect me to let this moment pass without comment.”

Before the Warlord could respond, Shanks continued, returning his attention to you with a roguish grin and slight tilt of his head. "She’s made quite the name for herself in these seas."

"Have I? And here I thought I was the one meeting an actual legend."

At your response, Shanks' smile grew even wider. "Tales of the Cutthroat have traveled far and wide," he said, his eyes twinkling with intrigue. "Some stories were quite fascinating."

"I don't really go by that name," you said with a casual shrug. "It's just a bounty title."

"What matters is what others choose to remember. Names have a way of sticking around."

"Choose wisely," Mihawk said coolly, eyes locked on Shanks with blade-sharp precision. "Or you will discover that your hangover shall be but a minor inconvenience compared to what awaits you.”

The air tightened for just a second, the crew around you falling awkwardly silent. Shanks blinked once, then burst out laughing, leaning back in his hammock. “There it is! I missed that charming way you threaten people without raising your voice.”

You glanced at Mihawk, noting the faint tension in his jaw as you smiled. Though Shanks meant no disrespect, Mihawk's protective response to the unwanted moniker touched you deeply, demonstrating his understanding of your aversion to that particular title and what the bounty had symbolized for you.

“Well, lass. If you ever tire of gloomy company and sword metaphors, I always keep a spare chair open.”

Mihawk’s hand brushed the stem of his wine glass with almost surgical calm as he seated. “She won’t.”

Their exchanges provided an interesting display of their dynamic, as Shanks skillfully employed playful provocation to elicit reactions from the Warlord. Despite Mihawk's outward facade of detachment, their interaction revealed an underlying foundation of respect and genuine friendship beneath Shanks' deliberate provocations.

“Come, share a drink with us,” he said, motioning toward an empty spot among the group. “Join our little celebration!”

"While I can hardly stomach a drink at this hour, it would be my greatest pleasure to share in your company."

The crew erupted in cheers, welcoming you into their impromptu festivities. None of them dared to reach for you, as Mihawk's watchful gaze tracked their every movement like a hawk monitoring its territory.

The moment you sat between him and the pirate captain, Red Hair resumed his enthusiastic chatter. “You know, Mihawk's never brought anyone into his circle before," he paused, studying you with keen interest. "So either our stoic friend has finally found his match, or you're far more dangerous than you let on."

"Dangerous? Not most days," you replied with feigned innocence. "Unless I run out of coffee. Then heaven help anyone who happens to be nearby."

Shanks laughed once more, so powerfully and joyfully that it was instantly contagious, tapping his drink in your direction. "Now that sounds like something our dear Hawk-Eye would consider a valid threat. **Better keep your lady well-stocked with coffee beans, my friend."

"I shall take note of that," Mihawk replied with mild irritation, though a glint of mirth flickered in his gaze.

As the morning wore on, Shanks and his crew became increasingly spirited, yet their warm hospitality made you feel instantly welcome. Your initial reserve gradually gave way to natural ease as you engaged in witty repartee with Shanks' trusted crewmates Yasopp, Lucky Roux, and Ben Beckman. The celebration crescendoed with spontaneous sea shanties, which, through their enthusiastic if somewhat discordant delivery, added to the convivial atmosphere.

Though Mihawk managed to keep his stoic reserve intact, his subtle discomfort with the revelry was noticeable. Yet he refrained from voicing any objections, having been the one to extend the invitation your way, for reasons that still remained a mystery. Your occasional gentle touches—a brush of fingers or a light contact on his arm—seemed to ease the tension from his shoulders. Shanks watched these subtle exchanges with visible appreciation, tactfully refraining from any intrusive or inappropriate remarks, as none were necessary.

Needing to stretch your legs, you excused yourself and walked along the shoreline, allowing the fresh sea breeze to invigorate your senses. As you settled onto the sand, feeling its fine grains beneath your palms, you looked at the vast ocean before you and reflected on how significantly your life had transformed over the past year. What began with a naive mishap at sea that led to dire circumstances had unexpectedly become an extraordinary life extending beyond the East Blue, complete with your own loyal crew and a serendipitous romance with the renowned Dracule Mihawk.

A content smile played across your face as the crisp maritime air caressed your skin. Above, the morning sky had cleared of all clouds, transmuting into a brilliant azure. The sounds of laughter and animated conversations echoed behind you, while approaching footsteps in the sand caused you to straighten your posture.

"Would you allow me to sit with you?" Shanks asked with a warm, inviting tone, his eyes crinkling at the corners.

Pleasantly intrigued, you warmly accepted. "Of course."

The pirate not so elegantly took place next to you, his backside falling a bit too hard onto the sand, his movements evidently altered by the alcohol intake. He breathed out, resting his elbow over his right knee, quietly staring at the horizon while the ocean wind ruffled his red locks.

After a thoughtful pause, he spoke in his low, rough voice. "I have to admit, you've taken me by surprise."

"How so?" you asked.

"I've known Mihawk for many years, and I've never seen him quite this tamed."

"Everyone says that, but that's not exactly how I would describe him."

Your voice was measured, but Shanks could notice the protective edge in your tone.

"Word travels fast on these waters, rumors that change like the tides themselves. I never thought I'd see the day when the great Hawk-Eye would find someone to share his life with."

You hummed, worrying your lower lip. "I'm not entirely sure what we are, to be honest."

"Mihawk's never been one for grand declarations," he replied with warmth. "But I've known him long enough to see what's plain as day. When Hawk-Eye sets his mind on something worthwhile, he really commits to it."

A blush crept across your cheeks as you tucked a strand of hair behind your ear. "You and Mihawk go back quite a way, don't you?"

"Aye. I've had the pleasure of crossing swords with him many times.”

“Really?”

He nodded. "These days, he says I'm only half the man I used to be."

As your eyes fell to the left side of his upper body, where his jacket's empty sleeve brushed against his side, you shook your head. "That's not what I heard about you. Of all the stories people tell about Red Hair, 'half a man' is not one of them."

"That's my old friend for you, honorable to a fault.”

Your eyes darted from his face to the missing arm with slight hesitation. "If I may ask, how did it happen?"

"Mh? About the arm?"

"Yes. You don't have to share if you'd rather not. Some stories are better left untold, indeed."

He gave you a wry smile, his expression a perfect blend of playfulness and gravity. "No, it's actually quite a tale. There was this boy in the East Blue, Luffy. A kid with a big dream and an even bigger mouth," he explained with fondness, leaning forward.

"Luffy? The same boy whose bounty you're celebrating?"

"Aye, good kid. He had that same fire in his eyes that I once did at that age. Young and fearless… almost too fearless, really. He got himself into quite the predicament one day, with a giant sea king bearing down on him.”

“Sounds like nasty business.”

"I made a choice that day,” he continued. “One I'd make again in a heartbeat."

"Oh… I see. So rather than claiming the boy, the sea monster took your arm instead."

"A small price to pay."

"And now here he is, chasing his dreams in your footsteps."

“Sometimes, when you see a spark that bright, you can’t help but reach out to protect it. Even if it means sacrificing a part of yourself."

For an ambitious pirate seeking the legendary One Piece treasure, the loss of a limb represented a significant setback. Yet, through remarkable determination and skill, Shanks ascended to become one of the world's most formidable pirates and swordsmen, despite this physical disability.

"That's quite moving, actually."

“Worth every drop of blood. It’s just an arm, I’d give up a lot more to see that kid shake the world one day.”

Your fingers traced small circles in the sand as a seagull's distant cry mingled with the rhythmic sound of the waves, creating a poetic atmosphere.

"It seems you'd rather see him find Gold Roger's treasure than claim it for yourself."

Shanks fell quiet, his smile softening into something contemplative as sunlight played across his features. "Oh I do plan to find it. But with all my time on the seas, my share of battles and victories, I’d say he’s got a future that even the world’s greatest treasure can hardly match."

You dusted off your hands, crossing your arms over your knees. "’This world could use a little shake-up’," you quoted. "That's what Mihawk told me a while ago."

"Always the patient observer, our friend Mihawk. Watching, waiting."

You straightened, a genuine grin spreading across your face. "And when that moment comes, you better believe the world will feel it."

Another chuckle escaped him, his face brightening. "You've really spent a lot of time around him. I can't imagine him being the easiest man to get close to.”

"He can definitely be a little unnerving. But once you break through that icy exterior, you realize there's so much more to him than just being the world's greatest swordsman."

With relaxed curiosity, Shanks leaned back in the sand. "There is, huh?"

"He's a man of principle. He respects strength, and not just the physical kind. He values conviction, loyalty, and a sharp mind. And despite his intimidating reputation, he has a sense of humor... albeit a rather dry one.”

“I have to agree. It’s the kind of humor that makes you question whether he’s joking or about to cut you down where you stand.”

"Precisely."

"You know him well. Perhaps even more than even I ever have."

You met his eyes, your own gaze steady. "Or maybe I’m just lucky enough to have caught his attention.”

"Luck might open a door, but it takes something great to walk through it. And I've never seen our stoic friend quite so at ease as he is with you around."

"I don’t know…” You pressed your lips together thoughtfully, inhaling the crisp, salty air. “Sometimes I wonder if I'm truly being genuine with myself. I've worn so many disguises while being hunted, pretended to be someone I'm not, and transformed into a person I never imagined becoming. I can't help but question whether this is really me."

Shanks studied you intently, his playful expression softening into something more contemplative and grounded. “I’ve been a pirate most of my life,” he said after a beat, his voice quieter now. “Worn titles I didn’t ask for. Made choices I didn’t always want to make. But in the middle of all that chaos, you start to realize something: who you are isn’t the mask you wear to survive. It’s the one who keeps pushing through, even when the mask starts to crack.”

You looked at him then, truly looked, as if seeing beneath the grin and the booze-stained charm. There was wisdom there, forged in storms and silence, not unlike the man who had given you his heart with barely a word.

“And Mihawk?” you asked, your voice barely above the sound of the waves lapping against the shore. “What do you think he sees?”

Shanks’ smile returned, but this time it held no jest. “I think he sees the parts of you that even you haven’t made peace with. That’s not luck, that’s choice.”

Your throat tightened slightly, emotion creeping in before you could stop it. You turned your eyes back to the ocean ahead, the line between sea and sky blurring in the distance.

“Then it’s time I stop running from who I have become.”

“And maybe it’s time the world gets to meet her. The Grand Line is a place where anything's possible, and from what I can see, you're already making big waves.”

You clicked your tongue dismissively. "I'm still quite new to all of this."

"If you've got good people around you, trusted allies at your side, that's worth more than any treasure in these waters."

He hesitated, blinking as he straightened his posture.

“You do have a crew of your own, right?”

"Yes, a small one. But those guys are worth an army of a hundred fighters."

"And with Hawk-Eye by your side, you've got yourself a force of nature," he added with a wink.

"Then I'd say I'm absolutely invincible."

His teeth flashed in the sunlight. "If you and your crew ever find yourselves in need of help, know that you have friends out here. My lads and I will come to your aid, no questions asked."

In that moment, everything became clear. Mihawk's choice to bring you to this island and his seemingly contradictory behavior, appearing withdrawn yet ensuring your integration with the Red-Hair pirates, finally revealed what the Warlord had left unspoken.

You exhaled, your shoulders relaxing. "Mihawk asked you to do that, didn't he?"

"No need for him to ask," he replied. "Some things, you just see right away."

"Then I suppose, even if I refuse, the decision isn't mine to make."

Shanks inclined his head, that familiar grin returning, but gentler now, like a hand offered without fanfare. “You can refuse all you want. We’ll still be there. That’s the thing about people like us—we don’t always choose our allies. Sometimes, they choose us.”

You looked at him for a long moment, your lips twitching into a half-smile. “You’re not what I expected, Red Hair.”

“No one ever says I am,” he chuckled. “That’s part of the fun.”

Your eyes drifted toward the shoreline again, where Mihawk's ship still lingered in view, distant but unmistakably anchored. Anchored, you realized, not just to the shore… but perhaps, in some quiet, guarded way, to you.

"You're a good man though, that much is clear."

"I'm just a man trying to keep the right kind of chaos in check," he said, voice low. "Sometimes, it means cracking a joke. Other times, standing behind someone when they don't even know they need it.”

You noted the simplicity with which he carried the weight of loyalty, the way he balanced lightness and seriousness in a single breath. "Well," you murmured. "Whatever you're doing, keep doing it. The world's a better place for it."

Society often portrayed pirates as criminals and outcasts, but experience had taught you differently. Those in positions of authority tended to resist change, often demonizing those who challenged the established order, even when they fought for noble causes.

"You know, I wish I weren't always his problem to solve."

You found yourself speaking with unexpected candor to this man you had just met. Perhaps it was his connection to Mihawk that made you feel so open, though this moment of vulnerability also revealed underlying fears you hadn't fully acknowledged on your own.

Shanks shook his head, responding with sincerity. "You're not his problem, more like his exception. He barely tolerates most of us, and like I said, I’ve known him for decades. But you?” He pointed subtly to the horizon. “That ship over there hasn’t sailed yet, and I believe it won’t unless you tell it to."

Mihawk's vessel drifted on the tranquil waves, swaying gently like a watchful sentinel. In his own reserved way, Mihawk had demonstrated his commitment more eloquently than words could express. What more could you ask of him, truly? How could you still doubt your worth when you had made it all the way to these New World shores with his guidance and protection?

"Take care of my old friend," he added, patting your shoulder as he rose to his feet. "I think he needs someone like you in his life."

A warmth bloomed in your chest. Shanks was entrusting him to you—someone he had just met, yet whom he seemed to understand better than almost anyone else.

"He may not need taking care of, but you can trust me to stand by him."

Satisfied with your conversation, Shanks made his way back to his hammock, adjusting the clasp on his jacket and stabilizing his tipsy steps. Leaving the shore, he passed Mihawk, exchanging a wordless understanding as the Warlord approached, taking his position beside you with his distinctive elegance. Neither of you said anything, for in that moment, the way he savored your closeness transcended the need for verbal communication.

You leaned against his shoulder, the festivities continuing behind you, with pirates raising their glasses amid cheerful revelry. Mihawk’s willingness to welcome your touch, without demands or expectations, made your heart soar and flip, your breath trembling as you prepared to speak the only two words that came naturally to your lips.

“Thank you.”

They emerged as barely a whisper, yet he heard them all the same.

"There is nothing to thank me for," he offered coldly, but with an underlying gentleness that betrayed his statement.

You ran your fingers along his hand, intertwining them with his. "Nothing? I'd say there are a million reasons for me to be thankful."

Mihawk turned his head slightly, his eyes narrowing, though his hand didn’t pull away. "I did what I deemed necessary," he replied, more reflective than dismissive. "What you interpret as kindness is simply logic.”

“Then I’m grateful for your logic.”

The way his fingers subtly tightened around yours suggesting he didn’t mind it, at least not from you. "Gratitude is inefficient."

“You keep saying things like that, but your actions tell a different story,” you teased, touched with something more tender. “You think too much. Sometimes it’s okay to just… feel.”

A pause followed, the kind that stretched not from discomfort, but from careful consideration.

"Your assumptions are misplaced. I alone determine what parts of myself I choose to reveal."

Your thumb traced a gentle circle on his knuckles. "Yes."

The sharpness in his eyes gave way to something softer, unspoken but unmistakably real. Nothing else existed—no titles, no demands—just the quiet recognition of something rare between you and a man who had long lived behind walls. In that gaze, you saw everything he wouldn't say aloud: worry masked as indifference, protectiveness cloaked in precision, and depths of feeling buried beneath years of restraint.

"Still, you don't always have to be a fortress. At least, not with me."

The tension in his jaw eased. He shifted ever so slightly toward you, his lips brushing against the crown of your hair. "Perhaps you fail to see that your presence has already begun to break down my defenses," he replied with cold dignity, a hint of devotion coloring his confession.

Under the bright sky, amid the echo of sea waves and fading laughter, you leaned closer to the enigmatic Warlord, knowing that for someone like him, this closeness was indeed the feeling.

"Thank you, once again, for letting me in."

"What? You actually met the Red-Haired Shanks???"

Viper gaped at you in disbelief, her eyes widening to saucers as her trembling mug threatened to spill across the table.

"Oh yes, we forgot to mention it," Isaiah said with a smile. "She's absolutely obsessed with that man."

"Hey, I'm not obsessed! I just happen to have the same hair color."

"Nope, you're definitely a fangirl," Ironhide laughed. "Too bad you missed your chance."

Red sighed dramatically as she set her mug down, crossing her arms with a pout. "Look, in all seriousness, the man is truly admirable."

"Yeah, and it's totally a coincidence that you named yourself in a similar way, huh?"

"I didn't put that much thought into it. Red's my signature color, what's wrong with that?"

"I'm sorry, Red," you said sincerely. "If I had known he would be there..."

"Nah, don't worry about it. I'm just so envious right now. Tell me, is he really like they say he is?"

"Even better," you replied. "Though our conversation was brief, he proved to be a man of true principle."

“Aw.”

"There you go, your eyes are sparkling again."

"Oh, stop it!"

"Shanks has taken us under his wing, you know," you explained. "So maybe one day, there will be a way for you to see him."

Isaiah's eyebrows arched upward. “’Us’?”

"Well, my crew and I. So yes, that counts as an 'us'."

Red braced against the table with sudden enthusiasm. "Wait, what did he tell you exactly?"

"That if I we ever need help, he'll be there without hesitation."

Before Red could respond, Trickshot burst into explosive laughter. "Oh, I can totally see her pretending to be a damsel in distress, stranded in the middle of the ocean, just so he can save her."

"Come on, seriously? You really think I'd do something that ridiculous?"

"Nah," he said, tousling her hair. "But you're pretty adorable when you let your guard down."

"I'll let my gun do the talking if you dare say that again."

Trick raised his hands in surrender and nodded. "Okay, gotcha sweetheart."

In the dim cabin light, you smiled in contentment as you watched your companions' animated banter and playful exchanges, a stark difference from the solitary year of travel that preceded this moment.

IMPORTANT: Since this appears to be the longest chapter I have ever written, due to Tumblr's 1000 blocks limit, I was forced to move the last section to a separate post. I want continuity, so turning this into a different format was not an option for me. Click here to finish reading the chapter!

#one piece liveaction #opla mihack #dracule mihawk #dracule mihawk x reader #opla fic #one piece liveaction fanfic #mihawk x reader

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rainbowmoonstonestories · 26 days ago

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Ahahahahahah

Ahahahahahahahahhahahahahah

Ahahahahahhahahahahahhahahaahahhahah

My chapter is longer than 1000 blocks and I can't post it ahahahahhahahah

Craaaaaaaaaap gotta find a solution now.

UM… tumblr has changed its post editor since the last time i uploaded a chapter…. what does “Dang, only 1,000 blocks allowed per post” mean…?

#well shit

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rainbowmoonstonestories · 29 days ago

Text

Me, finally about to post a new chapter after months of waiting.

Me, editing it on the fly, being sick af:

#moony updates #send help #need to post asap

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rainbowmoonstonestories · 2 months ago

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Let Your Dreams Be Your Wings | Chapter 26

Chapters: 26/? 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 @gallantys . 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: And here you are the part we were all waiting for! It's quite big still, but at last, these two lovebirds are getting back together.

WARNING: Mention of blood and a bit of gore (from a nightmare).

As Morpheus pursued his quest to uncover the truth behind the Book of Paradoxes' mystery, you carried on with your life as best you could, balancing between the dream world and the waking one. Before you could reunite with the love of your life, entities from your past suddenly reappeared before you. The very ones you had hoped never to see again.

Morpheus observed the golden threads permeating the area, their luminescence dancing through the restored verdant landscape. The radiant energy resonated within him, its gentle warmth embracing his being and coiling around his heart.

“She did this,” he whispered, trailing his fingers along one of the tendrils, which shimmered and reformed around his touch.

Astra nodded, his dark, star-filled eyes catching the warm light. "Yes. Quite impressive, isn't it?"

"I abandoned my responsibilities to my realm. My grief has caused devastation once again. One that I had no right to expect her to mend."

"Well, not truly catastrophic, but close enough. Even I, my lord, felt the effects of your... shall we say... dark disposition."

"Her essence lingers within you. You are as much my creation as you are hers, in this moment," he intoned, his voice deep and resonant. "Astra... I must make amends. You sought to counsel me, to issue warning, and I..."

"You needn't make amends, my lord—at least, not to me."

Morpheus took a tentative step forward, walking into the center of a glowing spiral that formed before him. "Can I even dare to hope she would welcome me back into her life? That I could be deemed worthy to stand beside her, to be present for our child?"

"Why shouldn't you? It won't be easy, certainly, but her love for you knows no bounds. There's nothing she wants more than having you back."

“How…”

“My lord?”

"How can a being like myself be deserving of such devotion? I, who am as eternal and ruinous as the darkness itself."

"The real question is: are you willing to accept such boundless love into your heart? Are you truly ready for everything she has to offer?"

Morpheus lowered his gaze to the ground. "All I truly desire is to have her by my side. Yet I find myself haunted by the possibility that I am destined to bring only destruction."

"I understand you're still pondering the book's prophecy, but from what I can see, they will both face doom without you around. The reverse isn't true."

“Perhaps.”

"I am certain of it, my lord."

Bright streaks wove through the atmosphere, synchronizing their movements with the guardian fireflies that watched over this section of the realm.

"Look at this. The Dreaming welcomes it—loves it, even. She is no ordinary dreamer, and no ordinary mortal, either. She never was. You may be darkness, but she is light. Like day and night, you belong together. You are intertwined, neither able to truly exist without the other."

You were nothing but light. His light. You represented the sun, the moon, and the stars.

"Then let me be your light, always. Wherever you go, whatever you face, I’ll be with you.”

"The tome made itself known to her, much as it did when I first discovered it in the library halls."

"And do you know why?"

"No. Though the reason eludes me, her connection to the book runs far deeper than I initially perceived."

"And that proves there is more at work here than meets the eye."

“Yes.”

Astra's hooves tapped against the ground. "Her light endures. It has healed what was withering in the Dreaming... through your child."

"Our child... A miracle born of dreams. A being of infinite possibility."

"Could they be destined for something beyond merely inheriting your throne?"

"I cannot venture to predict what lies ahead, Astra. What I do know is that this child represents something unprecedented… a being who exists between realms, born of both dreams and mortality. A convergence of shadow and radiance."

Astra's expression darkened. "In a sense, wouldn't they be similar to Daniel Hall?"

“No,” Morpheus' voice grew grave. "Daniel's existence is different. He came to be through the union of a human and a ghost, influenced by a Vortex within my domain. His nature is that of dreams, exceeding mortal flesh."

Astra's eyes narrowed. "And your child, though conceived here in the Dreaming, came from the union of a physically present human and the Dream Lord himself."

"Indeed," he intoned solemnly.

"But is she truly human anymore? This power she possesses... she's the daughter of a Goddess."

Morpheus' eyes closed as a string of light passed through his hair, like a gentle breeze. "She has divine lineage, yes. And yet... her mortal essence remains an integral part of who she is."

"And what about your child?"

"My child is something entirely unique. What grows in her womb holds power beyond measure. Power I have yet to understand."

A firefly drifted toward Astra, its ethereal glow casting a gentle glow across his snout.

"You seem troubled."

Morpheus fell silent, his gaze trailing a shimmering path of light as he gathered his thoughts.

"Everything I have undertaken, every choice I have made. The very foundations of my existence, my purpose, my destiny... All of it has been transformed into something entirely new. It pales in significance compared to her and our unborn child."

"And is that such a terrible thing?"

"No… She is magnificent. A true force of divine nature. How could something of such exquisite beauty ever be terrible?"

"Then... to hell with the book? No offense, my Lord, but I fear this path may lead to even more dead ends."

"Even so... I can feel the energy transforming around it. I require but a moment more to contemplate this fully."

Astra sighed. "She may not have that luxury of time. What if disaster strikes again?"

"Then I shall watch over her, eternally vigilant. It was my gravest mistake to have left her side."

Morpheus turned, the golden filaments now permanently woven into the fabric of his realm, like shimmering liquid light on a celestial canvas.

"You speak truth in this matter, Astra. She belongs to me, as I belong to her. Our child represents the embodiment of our connection, something I must protect at all costs. I must not fail again."

With an elegant nod, Astra followed the Dream King as they traversed the mystical landscapes, the majestic spires of the castle forming before them through the cosmic expanse.

A golden trail drifted behind them, accompanying the Dream King's journey to the palace before merging seamlessly with its ancient foundations.

Upon waking, you discovered your name prominently featured across news outlets and social media platforms, an unexpected development you weren't prepared to face given recent events. While getting ready for work, you stumbled upon audience-captured footage of your previous evening's performance circulating online, accompanied by articles featuring it to great acclaim.

“Y/N Y/LN Stuns on Stage: A Muse, A Mystery, A Moment to Remember!”

"Ethereal, Elegant, Enigmatic – Y/N Y/LN Captivates the Audience in a Spellbinding Performance.”

"The Fashion World's Darling Proves She’s More Than Just a Style Icon.”

“Who Is Y/N Y/LN Singing For? Fans Speculate on the Meaning Behind Her Emotional Display.”

Fortunately, the headlines and contents maintained discretion regarding your companion that evening, with no photographs or mentions of Hob appearing in any media coverage. The near-incident on the street also went unreported—except for a brief news item about a drunk driver hitting a lamppost—allowing you to preserve your personal boundaries while garnering professional recognition.

It remained unclear whether this was merely coincidental or a deliberate act of discretion by the local authorities. Regardless of the circumstances, the absence of scrutiny surrounding the occurrence was a welcome relief.

However, Hob immediately xpressed clear regret about the predicament, constantly berating himself. "Bloody hell, love. This is on me entirely. Should've thought about how all this might put you in the spotlight, shouldn't I?"

With a smile, you shook your head. "Hob, don't worry about it. You wanted to do something nice for me, and I honestly ended up enjoying myself."

"But that fucking car nearly took you out right in front of me, didn't it? If I hadn't been such a stubborn git, if I'd just let you stay home like you wanted..."

"Don't dwell on it now. Really, Hob, none of this is your fault. There's no way you could have predicted it."

He exhaled shakily, running his fingers through his hair. "But if it weren't for that magical bit he gave you... I can't even bring myself to think what might've happened."

"Honestly, what troubles me most is that he wasn't there. He must know about it, yet... he still chose to leave me alone."

Lucienne's smile softened as she clasped your wrists. "He’s always been particular in how he handles matters of the heart. He's suffering just as deeply as you are. Though he may not show it in conventional ways, his inability to rest speaks volumes about his regret."

"We could face all this together. Why is he avoiding me?"

"While I wouldn't presume to know the precise reason, I can quite say he finds himself utterly paralyzed by shame at the thought of facing you."

Could his reluctance to confront the situation truly justify his continued absence in moments of need? He could have offered some indication of his presence, a subtle signal perhaps, to demonstrate the depth of concern Lucienne had described. Yet no such gesture appeared, leaving behind only silence.

Before you could sink into another wave of despair, Hob cleared his throat and leaned forward. "Right. There's the thing, Shortcake - got something rather important to tell you."

"What do you mean?" you asked.

"Last night, when I popped out to buy tea, wouldn't you know it… I spotted him. He was standing right there in front of the building, brooding away like the dramatic bastard he is."

The breath caught in your throat, your pulse seeming to slow to a crawl.

"What? He was here?"

"Look, Y/N, I know this whole thing is driving you mad. I had a proper word with him about it too. But listen, and you can trust old Hob on this one, that guy is absolutely besotted with you."

You swallowed. "What did he tell you?"

“He said he's working his arse off to sort this whole mess out. And, I’m quoting him verbatim here, that you are ‘his heart, his universe, and the very essence of who he is’. That's about as deep as it gets.”

You sat silent, absorbing the weight of those words as they resonated through your mind repeatedly. ‘His heart. His universe. The essence of who he is.’

“ Right now, you and that child are the most important things in all the realms to him. And I can assure you that he loves you more than anything."

"I know you're desperate to see him, but I hope knowing all this brings you a bit of peace for now, yeah?"

Taking a deep breath, you delicately dabbed at the corners of your eyes to prevent tears from falling. With a relieved laugh, you nodded several times, the motion more for your own reassurance than his.

Morpheus’ care and devotion only magnified the frustration of his continued distance from your life. Nevertheless, there was comfort in knowing he was watching over you, working towards a resolution that would allow your family to unite properly; you, your beloved, and your child yet to be born.

If anything, this knowledge provided a measure of temporary solace, indeed.

"Thank you for telling me, Hob. I truly needed this."

"Of course, I couldn't keep that from you. You were out cold on the sofa by the time I made it back."

"I'm sorry... you made a special trip to the shop at night just to get me tea, and I fell asleep before drinking it."

He chuckled. “That was well worth it though. Now, let me give you a proper lift to work, yeah? Don't want you pushing yourself too hard in your delicate state. Honestly, I'd rather you stay home and put your feet up, but..."

"No, I'll go. I have stuff to do. I can’t afford to slack off now, knowing I'll need more time off when the baby arrives."

He gave a concerned look. "Are you certain you're up for it? Haven't had a proper kip, and after that nasty business last night..."

"I'm certain. Come on, let's go—I don't want you to be late for class."

With renewed confidence evident in your smile, you retrieved the keys and headed for the door. Hob followed close behind, adjusting his jacket collar while wearing an equally pleased expression.

"I reckon that'd be worth every bloody minute."

When you arrived at the office, you were greeted with enthusiastic applause from your colleagues in response to your recent media attention. The company experienced an immediate surge in business metrics, with a significant increase in both sales figures and website traffic. New customers, previously unfamiliar with the team's product line, began placing orders at an unprecedented rate, destabilizing the servers on more than one occasion during the morning alone.

All things considered, the night out had proven beneficial in more ways than one, putting the terrifying close call behind you.

You found yourself marveling, once again, at the extraordinary turn your life had taken. After years of persistent struggles when even your most determined efforts seemed to lead nowhere, your encounter with Morpheus at the Burgess estate had brought a supernatural level of protection that seemed to shield you from even the slightest misfortune throughout every facet of your daily routine.

Still, you couldn't help but keep a cautious perspective, and as the company's success grew with each passing week, you held onto your humility and authenticity. While this professional success was gratifying, preserving your genuine self and a balanced outlook was essential. There would be no compromises.

That afternoon, while working on new design sketches and managing incoming emails, you noticed Ella at your office door. She entered quietly after knocking a couple of times, taking a seat across from your desk, her smile seeming to mask apparent nervousness.

"What is it?" you asked, noting her peculiar expression.

"Just the usual media inquiries coming in. They're all requesting interviews with you."

"Did you tell them we're declining?"

"As always. But are you certain you don't want to consider this opportunity?"

"You know how these things work, Ella. They're not interested in our actual work—they just want juicy gossip, especially after last night. No thanks."

"Well, I can't blame them. You've always been an incredible singer. It's no surprise you caught their attention."

You shook your head. "I'm not a singer. I'm just someone who enjoys music and hums tunes from time to time. Besides, what I do in my private life is my business alone. I understand I'm no longer anonymous at this point, but I won't blur the lines between my personal life and business."

She smiled warmly. "Always so humble, even now. That's why I chose you."

You laughed. "You hired me because you had an empty desk to fill."

"Well, yes. But I wouldn't just hire anyone, you know."

"I know. And honestly, I'm grateful I was the one who sent in my application to the company at the right time."

“Mh.”

As you typed away at your keyboard, you noticed her lingering glance and pressed lips. With a weary sigh, you stopped typing and settled back in your chair, hands folded in your lap. "All right, I can tell this isn't just about work. What's really going on?"

"Honestly, Y/N, you drive me crazy sometimes."

Your eyebrows arched in surprise. "Why? Is it because I won't do the interviews?"

"Oh, forget the interviews! Are you seriously pretending nothing's going on? I've known you for years, and I can tell when something's up."

Uh oh.

“I don’t understand.”

"Yes, you do. Are you really that afraid to tell me?"

“I—”

"Your stomach issues, how you rush to the bathroom thinking no one notices, your switch from coffee to tea, and the way you've started wearing looser shirts—as if you're trying to hide something."

Your eyes dropped to your hands, watching your fingernails idly trace the hem of your shirt.

"Y/N, I know what's going on. You're pregnant, aren't you?"

Despite your best efforts to keep discretion, such subtle changes couldn't escape the notice of someone who had been a close observer of your life for so many years.

"I know we've lost touch for a long time, and I probably don't have any right to expect you to still see me as your confidant now that we work together. But... please. Tell me the truth. You've always been my best friend, even during the time we were apart. And I'm sorry I never proved it to you."

You smiled, pushing your seat back slightly and relaxing your shoulders. Quietly, you retrieved a plastic folder from your bag at the edge of the table, containing the ultrasound scan you'd begun carrying everywhere with you. After taking a moment to study the image, you handed it to her. "Lying to you would be pointless, I suppose. And honestly, hiding it for weeks has been exhausting.”

Ella stared at the photo in silence, her eyes widening as realization dawned.

“Your guess is correct, Ella. I am pregnant."

“Oh my God!!!!”

In an instant, she leapt to her feet, performing one of her signature happy dances, tapping her heels against the floor. "I knew it! This is amazing! You're going to have a baby!"

"Shh, Ella, please! I don't want the entire studio to hear you."

Returning to her seat, she fanned her face as tears of happiness formed at the corners of her eyes. "Sorry, I'm just so excited. How far along are you? It looks so tiny, just like a little bean."

“Six weeks.”

"Right, you started to feel off as soon as you returned from Cape Kennedy. But wait a second... you were there for two weeks, weren't you? Wasn't your boyfriend still here in London?"

"Hey! What are you hinting at?"

"I'm just trying to piece things together—but it's not my business anyway."

You rolled your eyes. "I know what you're thinking, but I can assure you, he's the father. He was in Florida on a brief work trip at the same time I was there," you invented on the spot.

"Oh, really? How fascinating! What does he do anyway? You've been quite private about this mysterious man... and several other things, come to think of it."

"It's just... well, it's complicated."

She brushed her hair back over her shoulder. "And what about that time your pendant started glowing? You never explained that one to me either."

“And I will, I promise you.”

"I haven't told Oliver yet, by the way. As understanding and kind as he is, I worry he'd think I'm losing my mind. He'd probably just chalk it up to stress from everything that happened."

The complexities of your relationship and the extraordinary circumstances surrounding it made explaining the full situation impossible without revealing sensitive details about Morpheus and what he represented.

Morpheus… your wonderful Dream King, whose absence left an aching void in your soul. You yearned for it all - the timbre of his voice, his distinct fragrance, and the paradoxical sensation of his cool touch against his encompassing warmth.

"Look, there are things that can't be explained simply. It's not that I don't want to tell you—I really do. I just need to find the right way to explain it without breaking certain rules."

She sighed. "You know what? I won't press the issue, not right now. You're having a baby! This is such a wonderful moment, I don't want to spoil it with all my questions."

“Thank you.”

"He knows about it, right?"

You nodded. “He does.”

"So when's the wedding?"

Knives in my heart…

"One step at a time. We're still processing the pregnancy… it wasn't exactly planned."

"Well, still. You've been together for... what, almost a year now? And with this wonderful miracle happening between you two, I think you should definitely consider marriage. Don't be like Oliver and me, who wasted years letting fear and insecurity hold us back."

With Morpheus investigating the Book of Paradoxes, could you allow yourself to envision a similar future together?

"In two and a half months, it'll be a year. And if it happens, you'll definitely be the first to know."

"I'm counting on it! I'm going to be your maid of honor. My own wedding was so rushed I could barely invite my family. That's how crazy things were between us."

"But you're happy with Oliver, aren't you?"

"Yes, happier than I ever thought possible. That's why I wish the same for you, Y/N. Even though I don't really know your boyfriend, I've never seen you so invested in someone before. It means he must truly be the one."

Though uncertain about your relationship, you knew with absolute conviction that Morpheus was irreplaceable. If circumstances prevented your union, you were prepared to embrace single parenthood rather than seek another partner.

You wanted him, and only him, even if that meant accepting the inevitability of mortality while he continued his immortal existence, knowing he might one day find love again after your passing.

Once alone, you found yourself in the quiet of your office, with only the soft hum of electronics and steady tick of the wall clock for company. Unable to contain your emotions any longer, you let out a quiet sob, tears streaming silently down your face as your pregnancy-heightened hormones swept through you, leading to another cathartic cry.

Although you clung to hopes of reuniting with him sooner rather than later, especially now that you knew he was watching from the shadows, he left a continuous sense of blinding emptiness that seemed to grow with each passing day.

Time was meant to heal all wounds, but this was a gash destined to remain, impossible to mend without the one who had caused it.

Lucienne meticulously examined the book's contents, encountering the same directive that had compelled Morpheus to end things with you. Though she sensed there must be deeper implications contained in the tome's ominous prophecy that could reveal an alternative interpretation, the solution was still unattainable notwithstanding her thorough investigation.

From Lucienne's perspective, the conundrum was perplexing. If the prophecy truly foretold a catastrophic fate should your bond with Lord Morpheus persist, then logic would dictate that separation would lead to your prosperity and enrichment. Yet the evidence suggested otherwise.

During the librarian’s discussion with the Endless regarding your near-fatal incident in the Waking World, a concerning possibility emerged. Somehow, fate had guided you to that specific intersection at the precise moment when a drunk driver would approach, and the presence of the Dreamstone had proven crucial in averting disaster. Had you removed it following the separation, the consequences for both you and your unborn child could have been severe.

This raised a logical inconsistency: How could the Book of Paradoxes deem separation from the Dream King beneficial to your safety when his divine protection had proven instrumental in preserving your well-being?

The text appeared to be intentionally misleading, hiding its true revelations from view. Still, historical accounts and documented testimonies consistently described the book as an immutable oracle of dark prophecies, bearing the same unalterable certainty as Destiny's book or the eye of the Fates. The tome's accuracy had been consistently demonstrated with a high degree of reliability.

"The essence of this tome has changed," Morpheus stated. "It bears her signature now. As if her very essence has become woven into these ancient pages."

"Could her mere touch have caused this? True, she did find it again in our library. However..."

"My knowledge extends through millennia of dreams and nightmares, yet when it comes to her... she continues to be an enigma that even I cannot fully fathom."

Lucienne turned the pages one by one. "She told me the book found her, my lord, though how this came to be eludes me. Is it possible the tome itself beckoned to her? That it was bound to be discovered by her alone this time?"

"It is possible," he spoke. "The book concealed itself from me, taunting me with its whispers through the shadows of The Dreaming."

"Are we quite certain she is… merely human?"

"She is unquestionably mortal. And yet..." He paused. "She transcends all I have known in my eternal existence."

"She has become intertwined with the very essence of The Dreaming. This realm recognizes her as one of its own now. Almost as if she were meant to be here all along. I must profess....”

"Go on."

She placed the book on her desk, adjusting her spectacles with precise fingers. "If I may be so bold. she appears to command a certain... authority here. As if The Dreaming itself recognizes her as its rightful queen."

Morpheus tilted his head back slightly as he considered her words, a subtle smile tugging at the corners of his mouth. "I believe you've made quite an astute observation."

"In all my years serving as librarian of The Dreaming, I've witnessed countless dreamers pass through these halls. Mortals of every kind have wandered our realm, even those rare sleepwalkers. But when she first materialized in your throne room during your imprisonment, I sensed something else. Something unrecognizable."

He nodded, inviting her to continue.

"She traverses realms that should be inaccessible, realms and dreams that were meant for others. Denizens here have taken quite a shine to her, perhaps there's more to her abilities than mere sleepwalking."

"A sleepwalker..." His voice trailed off, deep and velvet like. "Yes. That might be but one fragment of a much larger truth."

"Indeed, just one piece of a rather intricate puzzle, my lord."

"I must ask you to continue examining the book, Lucienne. There are matters that require my immediate attention."

"Of course, my lord. Though The Dreaming endures, it still needs your guidance to truly thrive."

With a respectful acknowledgment, Morpheus walked away, his dark attire creating a stark silhouette against the library's ambient glow.

Like ink dispersing in water, he melded with the castle's newly transformed atmosphere, where golden light now perpetually illuminated parts of its chambers.

In the late hours of the night, when the city streets lay quiet save for the occasional passing vehicle, Nathaniel Ashford made his way into his apartment. He deposited his keys in the entrance hall's bowl before discarding his shoes and jacket with little regard for their placement, then proceeded wearily to his bedroom.

The effects of alcohol were evident in his unsteady gait as he relied on nearby furniture for balance and support. He collapsed onto his bed fully clothed, lying on his back with eyes closed in exhaustion. He found himself in a downward spiral, struggling with sobriety and unable to break free from his self-destructive behaviors. The received one-year license suspension and substantial fines for driving under the influence did nothing to diminish his alcohol dependency, compelling him to continue his dangerous habit regardless of potential legal consequences.

His labored breathing and throbbing temples signaled his descent into unconsciousness. As sleep overtook him, his vision faded to complete darkness, awareness slipping away into the depths of slumber. His essence drifted into the void, his physical form becoming ghostlike and weightless.

He sank into what appeared to be a dreamless rest, until a resonant, commanding voice echoed through his mind.

“You dare.”

His eyes snapped open, and he found his bedroom transformed - a strange mist settling across the familiar space. From the darkened corner near his bed emerged an imposing figure, its otherworldly presence marked by luminescent eyes that pierced through the gloom.

The man tried to move, to sit up, but found himself paralyzed. His breath came in short, panicked bursts as the figure stepped closer. The air crackled with something ancient and terrible, something that seeped into his very soul, gripped him in an iron hold and bound him to the shadows.

"You were given a chance to reflect," the voice continued, emotionless yet charged with restrained fury. "And yet you persist." His voice deepened to a menacing whisper. "You remain a threat."

The man wanted to scream, but his throat refused to work.

Morpheus loomed over him now, a towering form in his own nightmare. "You nearly stole what I hold most precious." His tone darkened, laced with something far more dangerous than anger—judgment. "Two lives that are not merely sacred to the mortal realm, but vital to the very fabric of The Dreaming itself."

Suddenly, the man was no longer in his room. The walls twisted into a grotesque reflection of his reckless nights; flashes of himself behind the wheel, his thoughts mingling with the blaring of horns, the screech of tires.

Then—an impact. A body flying. A woman's scream.

His breath came in sharp gasps as he released his grip on the steering wheel, horror dawning across his features at the sight before him. The victim lay motionless on her side, tousled hair splayed across the asphalt. An eerie stillness pervaded the scene, broken only by the thundering of his pulse and the harsh glare of headlights cutting through the darkness.

"OBSERVE." Morpheus' voice cut through the vision like a blade. "See the devastation you nearly wrought."

Trembling, he exited the vehicle, the frigid night air assaulting his senses, each step forward feeling leaden and uncertain. A soft splash beneath his foot drew his attention downward, where his gaze met a horrifying sight: crimson liquid, dark and viscous.

He had walked into a pool of blood. Your blood.

"WATCH."

The man was forced to look, helpless as the dream played out. He recoiled, his breath catching as the gravity of his actions descended upon him. Compelled by an inexorable force, he approached the motionless form with trembling steps, kneeling beside your body as the blood seeped into his clothing. His hand hesitated before making contact with your jacket, then slowly gripped your shoulder to turn you over. A strangled sound escaped his throat as dread consumed him, knowing with devastating certainty what he would find.

As he turned you over, however, he was confronted not with human features, but with the stark, expressionless visage of a mannequin - an unsettling blank canvas that seemed to stare back at him with hollow intensity, despite its eyeless face.

“What—”

Suddenly, he found himself thrust back to the driver's seat, the vehicle surging forward uncontrollably. His frantic efforts to stop the car proved useless, because the brake pedal had vanished beneath his foot. His hands fused to the wheel, the grip inexplicably tightening with each attempt to release it.

Through the misty darkness ahead, your figure returned in the middle of the street. Your features were completely obscured, but he could sense your penetrating gaze fixed upon him, scrutinizing his very essence.

The second impact was even more devastating than the first, with your form launched through the air before crashing onto the pavement with brutal ferocity. His anguished screams pierced the night as he begged for the nightmare to cease, yet this was merely the beginning of his torment.

A distant wail pierced the atmosphere, its haunting echo resonating from every direction. An infant's distressed cries filled the place as a cradle formed where your body had been. Nathaniel staggered away from the vehicle once more, the engine now halted by an unseen energy. With mounting terror, he walked to the ornate crib where blood remained ever present, and reached for the blanket inside.

The soft fabric changed beneath his touch, becoming saturated with red. The cushioned interior lay vacant, bearing silent witness to an unspeakable loss.

The environment shaped again, becoming a stark, clinical morgue. A solitary examination table dominated the space, its stainless steel surface supporting a sheet-draped figure in the oppressive cold.

Morpheus appeared behind him, his presence radiating authority as he looked at Nathaniel with cold contempt. "Do you understand what you would have ripped from my grasp?"

Shuddering involuntarily, the man wrapped his arms around himself as an intense chill permeated his being. Though shrouded by the sheet, the feminine form beneath was unmistakable - most notably, the pronounced curve of a gravid abdomen pressing against the white fabric.

"N-no... I... I didn't mean—"

"You did," Morpheus’ voice boomed with controlled rage. "When you chose to indulge in your mortal vices, you neglected to consider the consequences of your decisions."

Nathaniel shook his head, wanting to shield himself from the grotesque scene, his eyelids forcibly open. A sinister presence urged him forward again, compelling his unwilling feet toward the examination table. With trembling hands, he grasped the sheet covering you and pulled it back. The table beneath was barren and empty, revealing a sight so disturbing that he stumbled backward, desperately scrambling away, retching violently.

Upon the steel surface rested a human heart, still pulsating with rhythmic movement, detached from any corporeal form.

"She bears my child."

The words struck like a hammer to Nathaniel’s chest.

"Not only did you imperil her life, but that of an innocent soul yet unborn." Morpheus spoke with deceptive quietness, carrying the weight of a storm held at bay. "A child who draws their first breath in dreams. A child whose very existence will reshape the boundaries between realities."

A terrible emptiness filled the air, suffocating in its finality.

“Had fate aligned differently that night, you would have destroyed something… eternal. Irreplaceable. To this world, and to me."

The man choked out. "No—I didn’t—I’m sorry!"

Morpheus tilted his head, his gaze unreadable. "Your apologies mean nothing. I shall not permit another opportunity for causing harm."

The dream continuously shifted, twisting into an endless loop of suffering, of loss, of everything the man could have caused.

"You will endure every excruciating moment of this until remorse grips your soul," Morpheus declared with an unyielding decree. "And should you fail to mend your ways," His eyes blackened, stars flickering within them like distant, dying embers. "Then perhaps it is best you never wake."

The nightmare swallowed Nathaniel whole, dragging him into the abyss.

Hopefully, this time, the man had learned an important lesson—both for his own safety and that of others who might cross his path.

Otherwise, Morpheus would ensure his punishments were delivered through the worst, darkest ways conceivable.

An impenetrable fog obscured your path as you ascended an endless staircase, your blue gown's fabric gracefully cascading behind you. Through the mysterious haze, Morpheus' castle loomed in the distance - a majestic structure that, despite its grandeur, was somehow tantalizingly out of reach.

A sense of restlessness pervaded your being as the shadowy atmosphere mirrored your internal disquiet. You continued to ascend, but the castle lingered at an impossible distance, making you pause your journey. A familiar tingle started to spread along your hands, attracting your attention downward. The golden luminescence had returned, transforming your skin into an almost crystalline transparency, with streams of radiant energy flowing where mortal veins once coursed.

Guided by intuition, you extended your arms in a deliberate motion, your hands moving through an opening gesture. The mist retreated at your command, dissipating into nothingness as your radiant power illuminated the way ahead like a beacon in the darkness.

The castle remained stationary, but at the foot of the staircase, a verdant expanse of trees emerged, with vegetation flanking both sides of the staircase. You proceeded gracefully yet purposefully, reaching the grassy terrain with effortless elegance as your light diffused into the surroundings.

The distinct aroma of damp moss and stone filled your nostrils, accompanied by the melodious sound of rippling water nearby. Intrigued, you ventured forth to locate its origin, walking through an unfamiliar, thickly wooded area. Near the river stood a life-sized Grecian statue, its classical form enhanced rather than diminished by the patina of time, with tendrils of ivy gracefully embracing its weathered surface.

(Image generated with Sora AI for visual purposes)

A gentle smile graced your features as you observed the floral crown adorning its head. You traced your fingertips along the stone arm, exploring its textured surface where leaves and moss had left their lasting impressions.

"Beautiful," you remarked, gently brushing away a stray leaf that had settled on the statue's eyes.

While seemingly out of place at first glance, the statue's presence harmonized perfectly with its surroundings. The aesthetic choice aligned with the classical Greek influences found throughout Morpheus' domain, from the ornate busts adorning the throne room to the towering stone sentinels guarding the castle's exterior.

Absorbed in contemplation, you were startled by an unexpected movement, causing you to step back instinctively. The stone beneath your fingers had stirred, and as you watched in astonishment, the statue began to animate, awakening to life and breath. Its head gracefully rotated toward you, the carved eyes opening to fix their eternal gaze upon your form.

Motionless, you waited as the sculpture conducted its silent examination, not in a hostile way, but rather with curiosity. Its stone lips formed a gentle smile before the previously touched arm rose, its cold marble fingers making contact with your cheek. The statue's thumb traced gently across your temple, offering an unexpectedly tender and soothing caress.

You leaned into it as your eyes glistened in the shadowed light, the gesture fleeting, its quick withdrawal leaving only emptiness behind.

It reached for the floral crown, carefully lifting it from its position. With fluid movements, it extended it out to you as an offering - a gift bestowed for reasons unknown. With each motion, the stone structure emitted soft, resonant sounds, firmly affixed to its pedestal. You knelt reverently as the statue placed the natural arrangement upon your head, the crown settling perfectly as if it had been specifically designed for you.

"Thank you," you whispered, gently touching the interwoven branches.

The statue responded with a nod before resuming its original posture, its form becoming rigid once more. In mere moments, it had reverted back to its immutable state, its countenance restored to its timeless serenity.

Having no alternative road to take, you gathered your gown and proceeded through the garden's intricate tapestry of vines and blossoms, while the illumination changed from daylight to evening's embrace. The celestial expanse above became a mesmerizing canvas, where twilight hues seamlessly merged with an infinite array of stars, their cosmic glow guiding you onward.

Though uncertain of your destination, an inexplicable force pulled you deeper into the heart of the Dreaming. The lush forest eventually gave way to a vast clearing, where an endless sea of grass stretched toward the horizon. Here, the unobstructed view revealed a magnificent panorama above, a natural observatory requiring no telescope.

This vista held depths beyond mere galactic beauty - surpassing both the starlit majesty above and the natural sanctuary enveloping you. As you gazed upward, the glowing bodies commenced a mystical dance, converging into a perfect circle before falling down like stardust. Your attire underwent a remarkable transformation, the sleeveless gown evolving, its fabric extending to embrace your arms completely. The neckline rose elegantly to form a high collar adorned with a subtle triangular décolletage, the skirt's already prominent length extending further, flowing like a majestic royal train. Deep blue gradients adorned the intricate details, with magical embellishments scattered across the fabric, mirroring the starry display above. Your entire being produced a goddess-like radiance, from the crown of flowers disappearing and dusting your tresses with sparkles to your crystalline lashes, Your skin appeared as powerful, pulsating energy, and your metamorphosed attire echoed the nightgown from your previous sojourn in the Dreaming.

The indescribable splendor of the moment made you into what could only be described as a starseed incarnate.

“Y/N?”

Astra's voice resonated from behind as he approached with measured steps. His eyes, like liquid starlight, held the essence of dreams themselves.

“Astra!”

"You look glorious," he murmured. "Like a deity crafted from the stars."

"I'm just dreaming."

"Yes, but that doesn't make it any less... you."

He moved closer, gently nuzzling your belly with his snout. "I'd say the little one is enjoying it."

“How can you tell?”

"I am a dream—I can sense the very essence from which they are created."

"Yes... after all, this child is Morpheus' offspring."

"Correct. But you see, the baby is as much his as it is yours. It is not only a child of the Dreaming, it is something more."

"Do you mean a hybrid?"

"Neither I nor he truly knows what this child will be."

You clasped your hands together, resting them over your slightly rounded abdomen. It was astonishing how visibly your pregnancy already showed after only six weeks. "Have you discussed the baby with Morpheus?"

Astra nodded. "It's literally all he can think about now. Well, besides the Book of Paradoxes."

"In a good way, I hope?"

"Absolutely!"

You sighed, brushing away a glittering strand of hair. "It's ironic. He talks about the baby with everyone except me."

"Have patience for a little while longer, my dear."

With an exasperated groan, you rolled your eyes. "Even Lucienne keeps saying that, and my best friend from the Waking World seems to share the same sentiment. But do you all truly believe I possess infinite patience?"

"I don't believe anyone thinks that."

"Then stop telling me to simply wait around. I've done nothing but that for weeks."

Astra tilted his head, lowering his eyes. "Indeed... I apologize. I cannot blame you for growing weary of this situation."

"I just want him to talk to me… to say something, anything at all."

"I'm afraid he won't speak with you until he's certain everything has been resolved and your relationship can return to what it was before."

You chuckled. "Typical Morpheus—ever the stubborn creature. Too bad I'm just as immovable as he is."

"You are truly meant for each other, that's for certain."

"That's not what that book seems to suggest."

Astra looked skyward. "But it's just what it is; a book. Ink written on paper. Its words may portray the darker aspects of your story, but the facts speak for themselves."

"That's all very poetic, but frankly, it's bollocks." Crossing your arms over your chest, you were nearly blinded by the intense stellar light radiating from your sleeves. "All I hear about is this book predicting my doom if our relationship persists, while I'm dealing with actual danger in my world; like drunken maniacs nearly running me down in the street."

Your voice quivered as you felt the tendrils of wakefulness tugging at the edges of your mind.

"And then I discover I'm pregnant, forced to handle everything alone because the father of my child won't even come near me. You all offer kind, encouraging words, but the fundamental problem remains unchanged."

Astra hummed in acknowledgment.

"I genuinely adore you all, but you need to stop telling me everything will be okay. I swear by the very core of this realm, if he doesn't get his head out of his backside soon, I'll drag him by the ear myself. Dream Lord or not."

"Oh, that would be... rather interesting to witness."

You chortled. "Yeah, well. I can be particularly biting on a bad day, but challenging me in my pregnant state? Good luck to you."

"I shall make sure to relay that message to him."

You shook your head with a faint laugh, but your smile quickly faded. "Can you tell him something else for me?"

"Of course. What would you like me to tell him?"

Your arms dropped softly to your sides. "Tell him that I love him."

"Ah, I can assure you, he already knows that."

"That doesn't matter. Please, promise me, Astra."

The deer familiar drew himself up, his neck muscles tensing with purpose. "I give you my word, Lady of the Dreaming."

You inhaled the distinct aroma of the realm - a complex blend of scents punctuated by delicate notes of sandalwood.

Closing your eyes, you felt your body gently fading away as morning light through your window dispelled the night's magic. With a whispered breath, you replied, "You all keep saying that too."

As consciousness beckoned, the Dreaming slowly melted into the ether, giving way to the tangible reality of the new day ahead.

"Oi love, you absolutely certain about this? Don't fancy the thought of you being here all by your lonesome, if I'm being honest."

You smiled. "Don't worry, Hob. You've already spent so much time looking after me here… I can't expect you to camp out in my apartment and let you sleep on my couch forever. I'll be fine."

He massaged the back of his neck. "I don't care if that couch turns my spine into a pretzel. If it means keeping you safe, I'll sleep on the damned thing till kingdom come."

You chuckled. "I appreciate that, but I'd rather keep you as you are. I don't want you turning into a human pretzel."

"You absolutely sure about this? Not that I don't trust you can handle yourself and all that, but blimey, I hate thinking of you in here all weepy by yourself."

You sighed. "It's fine, really. I'm trying to look at things differently and trust that this is just temporary."

"Right then. I'll get out of your hair. But listen - you need anything, and I mean bloody anything at all, you ring me straight away, yeah? Don't even think twice about it."

"I pinky swear."

Watching him gather his belongings evoked a deep emptiness, as his presence had become a comforting constant in your household. The ensuing solitude proved more impactful than anticipated in the days that followed, and you found yourself frequently gravitating toward each window throughout the day, even while at work, searching the darkness for Morpheus' distinctive silhouette.

It was time to focus on self-care and prioritize both your health and the wellbeing of your unborn child. While Morpheus' distant vigilance provided some comfort against the fear of permanent separation, you knew it was only a matter of time before you would face this situation head-on, even if it meant metaphorically storming through the Dreaming's walls to reach him.

If only it had been that simple.

On a mild afternoon, you strolled to the nearby park, basking in the pleasant warmth of the sun as a gentle breeze caressed your hair. Finding a quiet bench, you settled down, resting one hand protectively over your abdomen while gazing at a towering oak ahead. The baby's presence within you was becoming more tangible each day, delicate yet strong.

As you sat there, you reflected on the intricate emotions that had emerged since Morpheus' withdrawal. The more you pushed yourself toward the castle’s throne room, the more the Dreaming itself seemed to construct an invisible barrier, keeping you at a careful distance from its ruler, as though protecting both parties from an untimely confrontation.

The predicament was disconcerting, as Morpheus held complete control over your interactions (or rather, lack thereof), effectively preventing you from reaching him.

Suddenly, a peculiar change swept through the atmosphere, defying any logical description. The natural vibrancy of the surroundings ceased, as though time itself had been suspended. Passersby stood motionless, frozen like figures in a photograph. An eerie silence descended upon the park - no birdsong, no whispers of wind - leaving only an intensified sunlight that cast a stronger light on you and across the landscape.

The entire world was paralyzed, colors muted slightly, and even the rustling leaves halted midair. Your fingers tightened around the bench's edge as your respiration increased, and you started to question whether you had inadvertently fallen asleep in this public place, or perhaps even dreamed about leaving the house altogether.

But as three mysterious figures emerged from behind the bench and came into view, all questions were immediately answered. Your entire body tensed with apprehension, your brow creased deeply with concern, and your expression hardened with foreboding.

"Oh, you've got to be kidding me. You lot again?"

The Three were just as ominous as before, their forms now draped in flowing white rather than black, looking serene but with an unsettling power. Their faces—the Maiden, the Mother, and the Crone—were completely unchanged from your previous encounter, each radiating an equal measure of wisdom and menace. They moved around you in a slow circle, their penetrating stare fixed upon you with unsettling intensity, until they came to a stop.

Their strategic positioning effectively formed an impenetrable barrier, confining you to the bench, though you were fully prepared to assert yourself if circumstances demanded it.

“What do you want now?” you snapped, unwilling to tolerate any more enigmatic riddles being thrown your way.

The Maiden spoke first, her voice delicate yet piercing. "We come bearing no malice, dear Y/N."

The Crone let out a raspy chuckle. "No, not malice at all. Merely a message."

Your eyes narrowed as anger bubbled in your chest. "A message? Like the one you gave me before, dripping with disdain for Morpheus? What is it now—you're going to tell me how awful he is? How I shouldn't be with him?" You gestured sharply. "Save your breath and leave me be."

The Mother moved forward, her voice both soothing and resolute. "We see more than you do, little one. More than he does. We know what the future holds."

You crossed your arms. "You see it all, don't you? Past, present, and future. I've heard and read everything about you ladies. Well, guess what? I don't care what you think you know. And you don't get to meddle in my life or his. My future is mine alone to dictate."

The Crone cackled again, the sound grating. "Such fire. Perhaps you'll need it when the time comes."

“What time?” You demanded, your voice rising. “What are you trying to say?”

The Maiden tilted her head, studying you with unnerving calm. “You bear the child of the Dream King, do you not?”

Though your pulse quickened, you kept your expression neutral. “What of it?”

The Mother folded her hands. “That child ties you to the Endless in ways even you cannot imagine. And that tie... it will bring you both great joy, but also great peril.”

Your hands balled into fists. "I don't need your cryptic bullshit. My child is none of your concern."

The Crone’s smile widened slightly, wise and patient. “Oh, but it is. All life is our concern, little goddess.” She leaned closer, her icy breath chilling your cheek as she sat next to you. "Beware the paths ahead—the choices he shall make, and the decisions destiny will force upon you."

The Maiden's voice grew gentle. "Know this, Y/N; fate is fickle, and so is love. It has proven fatal to numerous Gods throughout history."

At that, your anger boiled over. "And you think I need you to lecture me about the fragility of love? I've lived it, felt it, and fought for it every step of the way. So spare me your dire predictions about matters I understand more deeply than anyone."

The Three exchanged glances, sharing a wordless agreement.

"You wear your mother’s warmth like a crown. But compassion is not a shield from consequence.”

"Everything bears consequences."

The Mother intoned, “your defiance is admirable, but dangerous. Even strength has its limits, my Daughter. Remember that."

You grimaced. "Since when am I one of your own?"

“You are one of us,” The Crone responded. "A Daughter of feeling, of story, of fate. Born of light.”

“We do not wish you harm,” the Mother continued. “But we do not grant you mercy, either."

"I never asked for mercy. With all due respect, I am not afraid of you. And I won't leave him simply because you declare him unworthy."

"You speak of the Dream King. Though he has abandoned you, your heart stays loyal to him. Yet he is Endless—his story was written long before yours began."

“Stories can be rewritten.”

The Maiden’s lips twitched into something between a smile and an admonition. "To rewrite fate means altering everything that comes after—love, loss, sacrifice—each word inscribed anew."

The Crone rose, her long wavy hair billowing in a nonexistent wind. “You stand at a crossroads. The child binds you to him, and to his sins. You can choose a different path. One that leads away from ruin.”

You took a deep breath, your voice soft yet steely. "Now you sound just like the Book of Paradoxes. Should I steal this child from their father? Hide them away? Forget about everything he means to me? No. I've already made my choice, and it isn't changing."

“Then so be it, little one. But remember: we offered warning, not threat. Choices have power, and they always bear fruit.”

"Thanks, but as I said, I don't need your warnings."

The Mother's mouth twitched with vexation. “You speak with certainty, Daughter. But certainty often becomes tragedy. Your prayers, then, will be wasted.”

The scene dissipated as swiftly as it had started, with the Three walking away, vanishing in a flash of light. Life resumed its natural rhythm in the park - leaves dancing in the afternoon breeze, the gentle touch of the cool air against your skin. You were immobile, your anger simmering beneath the surface.

You refused to let their dark portents cloud your conviction - not after everything you'd been through.

"To hell with it," you muttered. "We're going to prove them wrong."

You placed a protective hand on your belly once more, glaring at the spot where they had stood. "Whatever happens, I don't need their guidance to know what's right."

The constant interference from cosmic forces seemed determined to test your resistance, striving to cast shadows of misgivings over your already troubled relationship with the Endless. Instead, all this only strengthened your unshakeable commitment to reconcile with the love of your life, regardless of what ancient prophecies or supernatural beings might decree.

Through weariness and frustration, you would still gladly overcome any hardship and obstacle to protect your beloved Morpheus.

Even if that meant standing up against the fundamental principles of existence itself.

Matthew hastened to the Dreaming, his wings carrying him rapidly through the boundary between the Waking World and the realm of dreams. With urgent purpose, he made his way to the library where Morpheus was engrossed in his studies, laboring diligently to decipher the mysterious tome that had led to your separation. He meticulously examined ancient manuscripts and historical documents, with Lucienne's desk accumulating comprehensive notes and research materials.

The raven swooped down to perch at the edge of the desk. "Boss! Hey boss - hate to crash in like this, but there's some seriously weird stuff happening topside."

Morpheus and Lucienne looked up from their readings. "How do you mean by 'weird,' Matthew?" Lucienne inquired.

"Uuhh… really strange business if you ask me, but..."

"Tell me, Matthew," Morpheus said, his eyes fixed intently on the raven. "Has something happened to Y/N?"

"Well, not exactly. Look, I don’t know what it was, but everything froze up like someone hit the cosmic pause button on reality for a sec. It felt scorching hot and bone-chillingly cold at the same time.”

Lucienne's brow creased, perplexed.

Morpheus’ voice tinged with concern. "Tell me what you witnessed.”

"See, that's just it - I didn't catch much of anything. She was just sitting in the park, and then boom! That started happening."

"She's all right though, isn't she?" Lucienne asked gently.

"Yeah, she's fine! Still her usual self and everything. Though I did hear her muttering things to herself - sounded pretty determined too. She said something like, ‘We’re going to prove them wrong’, and ‘I don't need their guidance to know what's right’. Hell if I know.”

At that moment, A shadow crossed Morpheus' face. "I do."

“My lord?”

“It was them,” he answered grimly.

"’Them?’ You mean the Three?"

"They have visited her before."

"What purpose could they have in seeking her out?”

He stood as still as a sculpture, his eyes blazing with burning rage. “They do not appear without cause. They see her as another pawn to be toyed with in their game of fate.”

Lucienne's face grew somber. "Might this be connected to this book we've been studying?"

“Perhaps.”

"Well, whatever they said to her, she was right pissed about it. Trust me boss, she's not letting it get to her," Matthew interjected.

"This is all my doing," Morpheus confessed, heavy with regret. "The legacy of my mistakes and all their consequences have found their way to her, in spite of everything I've done to shield her from them."

“My lord—”

"And yet, she defends me still."

“I don’t need their guidance to know what’s right.”

"Perhaps this tome contains the truth after all," he murmured, his fingertips trailing along the black leather of the book that lay closed on the table, pulsing with a dark energy clashing against something brighter—hope. "I am the root of her misfortunes, casting shadows upon a light that deserves better.”

Matthew cocked his head. "Aw come on boss, that's complete crap and you know it!"

Lucienne spoke softly. "Matthew—"

“But,” Morpheus added, “she carries our child. A being of such purity that it awakened mending powers lying dormant within her essence."

He traced a sinuous circles over the volume, his fingers moving without any precise scheme.

"Why do I sense these disturbances in the fabric of her existence, even when we are apart?"

Matthew shuffled his feathers with a shrug. "You ever considered that maybe - just maybe - this book's got it all wrong in the first place? "That maybe you're actually keeping her safer than she'd be without you?"

"I'm afraid the matter is far more complex than that, Matthew," Lucienne noted.

"Look, I may not be the sharpest bird in the flock when it comes to all this mystical nonsense. I mean, I used to be just a regular human before… but something here just doesn't add up."

Morpheus' hand halted, his palm resting flat on the leather cover.

"Did you ever get that feeling when you two were together? That nagging little voice in your head warning you she was in danger? Because I'm betting you didn't."

“I…”

Morpheus reflected on your relationship's beginning, particularly the night he disclosed his history with Nada and explained the ancient prohibitions against mortal-Endless relationships. His primary concern had been for your wellbeing, dreading the possibility that you might face a similar fate - the potential loss of everything meaningful in your life, perhaps even your very soul.

However, these fears were soon proven unfounded, as in the months following your fateful meeting in the basement, your life was blessed with nothing but positive changes and fortunate developments.

You gave a sardonic nod, pressing your lips together in a bitter smile. "Ah, I see. So you're simply accepting this fate? You won't even let me make my own choice?"

"Not if it means every moment you spend in my presence brings you one step closer to your own destruction."

"Destruction? Morpheus, this is absurd. We've been together for months now, and all I've seen in my life is growth."

And he, the Lord of Dreams, who had endured searing losses and believed himself unworthy of affection, discovered, for the first time, the true meaning of genuine happiness. A happiness that dissolved into sorrow through his own misguided futile efforts at protection, tearing both of your hearts to pieces.

"My concern for her was ever-present, but..."

Lucienne scrutinized the tome thoughtfully, her mind piecing together the puzzle.

“My lord, what was it that Y/N's mother revealed about this book? Didn’t she mention that it only appears to specific beings when they are meant to see it, at predetermined moments in time?”

"Tell me what you are contemplating, Lucienne."

"If I may venture an observation, sir... I'm curious about your state of mind when you discovered the book. What thoughts were occupying you in those moments before it appeared?"

His mistakes were indelible, and their consequences irreparable. But your gentleness was immeasurable and irreplaceable, your wisdom a fount from which even Morpheus himself could learn. You were extraordinary, delicate yet powerful, so intensely significant to him that Morpheus understood he had never loved anyone as strongly as he had fallen for you.

Losing you would threaten to leave an unfathomable void in his existence, potentially shattering him beyond imagination. Your absence would leave him utterly bereft.

His body went rigid as understanding struck him with devastating force, as if the immense pressure of the Dreaming itself was bearing down upon him.

Morpheus experienced an unprecedented, profound sense of bliss and inner peace. After innumerable centuries of existence, he finally grasped the true meaning of being cherished, and his understanding of love had undergone a drastic metamorphosis. A human had taught him more in a brief span than eternity ever could, smoothing the sharpest edges of his being. You had believed in him when everyone else saw him as a monster, perceiving his past misdeeds as steps in his growth.

In his heart, he struggled to fully embrace his good fortune. A nagging doubt persistently gnawed at the back of his mind - the fear that he, an eternal being marked by past transgressions, might somehow diminish your remarkable spirit.

"Based on my research, this book appears to be more than just a collection of prophecies. It is not an artifact, but rather a sentient entity—one that moves freely through the fabric of time and space. Though I suspect you were already aware of this, given its whisperings."

Morpheus gave her a pensive nod, his gaze unfocused as he processed the implications.

"I know you value your privacy, my lord, and I won't pry. However, consider that this book most likely found its way to you at this precise moment for a purpose. It's responding to your feelings, your decisions... perhaps even the path that lies ahead of you. It reacts to the evolving destiny of those who interact with it. I believe it to be less of a prediction, my lord, and more likely a trial you must face."

Morpheus' lips pursed slightly. "Now I understand why it concealed itself from me. Why I could not find it again," he said with quiet resignation. "I misinterpreted its message entirely. In my folly, I cast it aside. But Y/N... she was always meant to be the one who could mend this."

"I believe that to be the case, my lord. It appears this was destined for you both."

"That's harsh," chirped Matthew.

"Now, if we examine these critical passages in detail," Lucienne proceeded, reaching for the tome and opening it to the first pages. "The verses seem to depict an impending doom—a love cursed to unravel, a fate set to be undone. But now that I look at them from a different perspective, they may well be cautioning us about the consequences of your separation, rather than your union.”

"Yeah, see, that's exactly what I've been trying to tell you!"

"My lord, your perspective has been clouded by doubt. About her, about what the two of you have built together. If you examine these parts again, with everything you now understand... what do you truly see?"

Lucienne turned the book toward him and pointed to the first line of the enigmatic text inscribed.

"I struggled with interpreting this text differently myself at first. But you, my lord, being who you are, surely understand the deeper meaning behind these metaphors far better than I."

He had acted against his very nature as the Lord Shaper, failing to see beyond the surface meaning. Despite spending countless hours analyzing those prophetic lines, his point of view was horribly obscured by preconceptions. His fear of repeating past dynamics and potentially depriving both realms of your creative mind had prevented him from perceiving the truth behind the illusion. His understanding of the book's nature was limited to historical accounts and experiences, failing to consider its deeper metaphysical implications.

He was willing to let you go if it meant preserving you from harm—even if the alternative meant cherishing your love until your final breath. He would rather endure the pain of separation than risk the complete erasure of your existence. He had made his choice with finality, declining to honor your request to seek guidance as partners.

Indeed, there had to be deeper significance beneath the surface. Much like how the Death card in tarot represents transformation rather than literal demise, the Book of Paradoxes appeared to have crafted its prophecies with particular layers of mystery, requiring careful interpretation to reveal the true nature underlying these trials.

His fingers traced the edges of the ancient text, following the intricate shapes of the ink. The pages seemed to resonate with a new pulsing vitality, the ancient tome once again whispering incomprehensible murmurs into his consciousness.

As he studied each page, the familiar verses echoed differently. The illustrations had been altered, depicting your figure oriented towards his direction. His hand froze mid-motion as the page slipped from his grasp, his gaze transfixed by a detail that undoubtedly had not existed in the book previously.

A fresh set of verses was right before him.

Tears welled in his eyes, catching the soft illumination of the library as he blinked.

As both Matthew and Astra had indicated, Morpheus had misinterpreted every single word he had consulted. Now, staring at these new inscriptions, the clarity of their message was undeniable.

The foretold darkness was still there, yet he now understood with startling clarity that far from being the harbinger of your downfall, he was destined to be your sanctuary—your beacon of love and the father of your child, just as you would be his guiding light in the shadows.

The lunar motif, representing the realms of night, dreams, and the unconscious mind, served as a potent metaphor throughout these verses, underscoring your intrinsic connection to the Dreaming, and to the moonstone crystal he had gifted you.

In truth, you possessed the unique ability to serve as his redemption, if he would simply relinquish his protective barriers and allow your destined connection to flourish.

Love was not merely the answer—it was the solution. Your bond was an essential part of your shared future, a connection that was meant to exist, not be severed.

Though mortal in nature, you possessed extraordinary qualities that set you apart from Nada, and from any other human who had ever come too close to his kind. The path that lay ahead for both of you held secrets and possibilities that defied the original laws, even for Dream of the Endless himself.

"I now can see, Lucienne. Matthew. I let the weight of my past actions, what I once was, convince me there could be no other outcome. But I was mistaken. The book has been attempting to show me the truth all along, and I foolishly dismissed it."

Lucienne's expression softened as she exhaled quietly, her lips forming a graceful smile.

Matthew startled as the Book of Paradoxes emanated an intense luminescence, forcing even Morpheus to retract his hand. It unleashed a brilliant, blinding flash, before vanishing from the library in a swift current of air, scattering various documents across the table and onto the floor.

In an instant, tranquility settled over the library once more, as Lucienne surveyed the mess left in the wake of the magical disturbance. Morpheus rested his fingers against the wooden surface, savoring its tangible presence beneath his touch.

The empty space where the tome had rested served as silent testimony that the enigma had at last been deciphered, finally unlocked.

It was done. It was sealed. It was over.

All that remained now was atonement.

"Man, that was some real freaky stuff," Matthew croaked.

Through another layer of mist, you traversed a solitary road, its destination obscured from view. Yet tranquility permeated the atmosphere, as a gentle azure glow pierced through the shadows.

The vapor swirled, giving way to delicate fabrics swaying gently in the air, their soft touch brushing against your skin like gossamer veils. They parted respectfully at your arrival, their forms creating an opening before you like devoted guardians acknowledging their sovereign.

As you ventured forward, the haze gradually softened, revealing a chamber where, at its heart, stood a solitary crib.

(Image made with Sora AI for visual purposes)

Stars glittered across the floor and danced upon the curtains, while an infinite expanse of celestial lights stretched into the void. The divine display moved in mesmerizing circular movements, reminiscent of the crystalline beauty found in mortal light projections.

The room was silent, save for a subtle movement beneath a dark blue blanket inside the crib. You approached with careful steps, bending over the little cushion where you found a newborn infant. The child was clearly visible now, unobscured by dream distortions, the scene continuing in smooth progression. As the baby’s eyes fluttered open, they revealed striking cerulean irises - unmistakably familiar - which mirrored the cosmic spectacle surrounding you. Their gaze met yours, deep and penetrating, as you carefully lifted the tiny form with trembling hands.

The infant remained peaceful as you cradled them in your arms. Their dark hair reflected their distinguished lineage, bearing the undeniable aura of the Dream Lord himself. The authenticity of this vision, whether it formed from reality or merely your subconscious imagination, felt undeniably grounding.

As you tenderly held the infant against your chest, your hand supporting their delicate head, the fabrics rustled behind you. A presence made itself known, moving through the curtains before coming to rest several paces away. As you turned, you gasped at the sight of Morpheus, who stood among the shimmering veils, his expression filled with wonder and awe.

For countless nights, you had hopd to find him in your dreams, only for him to persistently elude you. On the sole occasion when your paths had crossed during your sleeping hours, he turned away from you and retreated, leaving behind unspoken sentiments and another scar upon your heart.

Now he stood in front of you, his presence commanding yet gentle. He took a step forward, his eyes falling reverently on both you and the baby in your arms. Words failed you as you stayed there, unable to give voice to the myriad things you wanted to say, to the emotions coursing through you.

The dream began to fade, the mystical chamber dissolving into nothingness as your mind pulled you back to your waking life. Morpheus' figure evaporated like stardust in the wind, leaving your arms bereft of the infant they had held moments before.

You awakened suddenly, drawing in a sharp breath as your full awareness returned, your heart racing within your chest while tears gathered at the corners of your eyes. Instinctively, your hand drifted to your abdomen, but the Dream King was nowhere to be seen.

Had his presence been genuine, or merely a creation of your deepest longings?

The workday extended well beyond regular hours at the studio due to increasing demands. Following the success of your recent collections in the market, the C&J brand has experienced heightened expectations. High-profile clients and agencies had submitted requests for specialized designs, necessitating an even greater level of precision and craftsmanship than usual.

While intense and time-consuming, the work brought immense satisfaction. The global recognition and appreciation for your designs served as a testament to your professional journey and creative vision.

After receiving your authorization, Ella had discussed your status with Oliver. They both demonstrated exceptional support and consideration, their genuine concern visible through frequent check-ins and offers of assistance. While they may have been somewhat overprotective, they created a positive environment that proved invaluable during this period.

Retrieving your keys, you tiredly reached your building's entrance. Dusk had settled, bathing the sidewalks in the gentle glow of street lamps. As you were about to insert your key into the lock, a deep voice called your name, causing you to freeze in place and almost drop all your belongings.

“Y/N.”

You turned slowly, your gaze meeting Morpheus as he came forward. You suddenly forgot how to breathe, staring at him in shock, his expression unreadable.

For a moment, you questioned the veracity of his image.

“Morpheus….”

“My love.”

You carefully returned the keys to your bag, your trembling hands betraying your shock as you stepped closer to him. With mere inches separating you now, a tempest of emotions - anger, relief, hurt, need - welled up inside you. Yet in his presence, you found yourself rendered speechless and still again.

"What are you doing here?" you asked in a whisper, your voice trembling.

"I have come seeking you," he replied. "Time has passed... painfully so."

"It's been weeks," you pointed out. "You've been avoiding me this entire time."

“My apologies.”

His touch on your shoulder felt peculiar as his hand traced down your upper arm—a subtle but noticeable difference from his usual mannerisms. His gestures had noticeably changed; where he had once been delicate and reserved, his grip was now firm and purposeful as his hand moved along your arm with unmistakable intent.

He was just as striking as ever, his beauty and regal bearing unaltered. But there was an incongruity that felt unsettling.

"You appear weary, my dear. Let me help ease your burdens. Allow me to care for you as I should. As has been your deepest desire."

Your eyes narrowed as suspicion began to rise in the pit of your stomach. His attitude seemed too casual, given the long separation and the significant revelations regarding the Book of Paradoxes—along with your pregnancy. How could he respond with such apparent nonchalance, without mentioning any of those occurrences?

"Is this how you're going to act? Ignoring everything that happened without any explanation?"

Even his smile was completely out of character.

"I shall explain everything in due time. But first, allow me to tend to your needs."

The way he leaned in, pressing close with an uncharacteristic intimacy that left you paralyzed and shivering in terror, provided incontrovertible confirmation that he was not who he claimed to be.

You knew Morpheus as deeply as your own reflection; his distinctive gaze, the careful way he carried himself, the cadence of his speech. Every gesture and interaction had its own signature, and this impersonation failed to capture all those essential details that sent your heart fluttering whenever you were near him.

This... this was most certainly not him.

Then you noticed it, a flicker of gold in his eyes that was clearly foreign to the Morpheus you knew and loved. Revulsion coursed through you as bitter realization struck, and you immediately withdrew from the creature’s touch, stepping back with decisive force.

“My love?”

"Don't 'my love' me. If you thought you could deceive me with these pathetic tricks, you were sorely mistaken."

His expression shifted to one of exaggerated shock, the artifice so glaringly obvious. “I don’t understand—”

"Oh, drop the act. Did everyone agree to use me as a pastime lately or what?”

"Y/N," His voice took on a stronger, more menacing tone. "I assure you, I have no idea what you speak of."

You became venomous, each word a strike. “Dream has never had golden eyes, and he most certainly would never behave the way you do. So tell me, Desire, what are you really here for?"

Slowly, the illusion of Morpheus collapsed, revealing the Endless’ true form - a statuesque figure with gleaming golden eyes, crimson-stained lips curved into a knowing grin, and platinum hair swept back in an elegant style. Their attire transformed from Morpheus' darkness to pristine white, very similar to the one you had seen at the Fashion Show's establishment.

"My, aren't you just precious. A pity you've spoiled my little game so quickly."

Pressing your lips together, you glared at them. "I'm not in the mood for this."

"Quite a change from our last encounter. You didn't even know who I was then, did you?"

"No. But as they say: fool me once, shame on you. You won't fool me twice."

They let out a low laugh, circling you with predatory fluidity. "Oh my sweet Y/N, don't be frightened. You're practically one of us now, aren't you? For however long that lasts, of course."

"Frightened? Oh no, I'm livid. Do you really expect me to treat you with respect after what you've done to him?"

"Of course he's told you about me. But you've only heard his version of events, haven't you? His perception of the truth. Though I can hardly blame you for that."

Your blood boiled. "Do you honestly think orchestrating the birth of a Vortex—forcing him to kill his own blood and face the Furies' vengeance—was merely a matter of perception?"

They shrugged. "It was a deliciously wicked plan, wasn't it?"

Rage coursed through you as your body responded viscerally to them. A powerful warmth spread beneath your skin while your eyes began to illuminate, golden threads of energy spreading across your form in an intricate tapestry. It pulsed and subsided as quickly as it began, serving as a clear warning of what you could unconsciously unleash.

"You planned his imprisonment too, didn't you? If you think you can continue this senseless vendetta, know this—I won't stand idly by while you scheme to get him destroyed out of pure spite."

For a moment, their smile wavered, but their surprise was brief. "Mmm, you're far more intriguing than you let on. How fascinating."

"Stay away from me. I can't even stand to look at you right now."

You moved past them, your body nearly grazing their form as you retrieved your keys from your bag anew.

"Oh I know. It's my brother you're pining for, isn't it? Poor sweet thing... He doesn't care, he never does."

"Yeah, right."

"Come now... I could give you everything you've ever wanted. Every delicious little desire you've tucked away in that precious heart of yours. After all... aren't dreams just desires waiting to be fulfilled?"

Your hand closed tightly around your keys, holding one like a makeshift knife. "I swear, if you don't leave right now—"

"Well then," they purred, slinking closer with a sinister grin, pearly white teeth glinting in the dim streetlight. "Let me show you just how... delightful things could be."

In an instant, reality warped and mutated around you, the familiar alleyway converging into a canvas of melting colors. Red walls took form and encircled you, their surfaces gleaming with an unnatural polish that reflected your image with mirror-like clarity.

"Welcome to my domain, little butterfly."

A rhythmic pulsing echoed through the otherwise silent room, its crimson interior reminiscent of an artificial cardiovascular structure.

"Take me back immediately," you demanded, your voice low and dangerous.

"Come now... let me get to know my favorite sister-in-law better. Besides, I'm simply dying to meet my little niece or nephew growing inside you."

"If you dare come anywhere near my child—"

"Oh dear, you're breaking my heart," they said with a fake pout, pressing their hand delicately to their chest.

"I will not repeat myself again, Desire. Take. Me. Back. Now."

"All this stress can't be good for that precious little one. Come, sit with me."

Realizing that further resistance would be futile and counterproductive, you felt your strength beginning to falter as exhaustion set in, accompanied by a wave of dizziness and mounting nausea.

Desire settled into a minimalist chair, gesturing elegantly to the space beside them. Your apprehension at being so far from known territory was difficult to brush aside, but fatigue began to overcome your resistance. Your body, exhausted from the day's events, betrayed your determination as you inevitably gravitated toward the offered seat.

The rigid surface provided little comfort, and Desire's unwelcome proximity became even more disturbing as they reached out to stroke your hair and face, causing tension to ripple through your muscles.

"I don't know what you want to do with me, but you're wasting your time."

"Oh, I can see exactly what drew my dear brother to you. Such fierce spirit... such delectable defiance."

You hardened your jaw.

"Sweet thing, my brother has a habit of falling for mortals. You're just another passing fancy in his eternal existence."

Your hands tightened into fists atop your knees. "Stop."

"This child won't keep him by your side. Just look at dear Calliope... such a tragic tale. And poor little Orpheus... torn apart while my brother watched idly from his domain."

"You have no right to speak about him or his son that way."

Their fingers expertly pressed against your scalp in what should have been a soothing motion, had it been performed by anyone else.

"And why shouldn't I? After all, I am family. I've been there through it all, watching every moment, while you weren't even a whisper in existence."

You pulled away harshly, sliding to the farthest side of the chair. "I'm so tired of everyone reminding me how mortal and short-lived I am. You all think you know him better only because you've been around since the dawn of all living things, but that means absolutely nothing."

"That's simply the way it is. My brother has had his infatuations before, and every single time, they've ended in a disastrous way."

"Yeah, well. None of them were me."

They laughed, their voice reverberating against the crimson membranes, hollow and cruel.

As they advanced, you found yourself cornered, with only the option of retreating to the floor beneath you and crawl backwards. An entirely unappealing prospect.

"Why throw away everything you could have for someone who'll never truly care for you? I can give you what you want. Right here, right now."

As you met their gaze, you felt a mystical pull — one that seemed designed to ensnare any mortal they seeked, just as they had done with Unity Kinkaid. Their hand returned to your hair, running through it from root to tip with practiced elegance, letting the strands slip between their fingers.

They were trying to exploit your momentary vulnerability to ensnare you, but you refused to be deceived.

With feigned sweetness, you grasped their jacket's lapels, nails grazing their exposed collarbones. Leaning in close enough to sense their subtle resonance, you fixed them with a steely glare.

"What I want is for you to screw yourself and forget I even exist," you hissed.

Your gesture caused Desire's calmess to break, their amusement turning into visible displeasure. Offended, they rose to their feet, walking to an elaborate display wall adorned with particular artifacts, one that seemed more than a mere corner filled with decorative pieces.

"See this lovely collection? All of us Endless keep our siblings' sigils in our realms. Little tokens that let us summon one another whenever we wish."

You swallowed. “So?”

"Let me offer you a little reward for your... resilience. I could summon Dream, let him come to you. Wouldn't you love to see him?"

Your heart lurched, caught between a flood of joy and the cold grip of fear at what might follow.

"Yes, how about a lovely little reunion?"

“Wait—”

As they extended their hand toward a silver mask resembling a crow's skull, Desire's expression twisted into an even more malevolent smirk. “My sweet brother Dream. It is I, Desire. I stand in my gallery and hold your sigil.”

The response came immediately, and at the sound of that voice, you nearly collapsed to the floor, desperate to scream and call out his name.

"Desire. What is it you want?"

The coldness in his tone was palpable, and understandably so.

"It's rather about what you want, dear brother. As it happens, I have a very special guest here in my domain—someone who's absolutely desperate to see you."

He needed no explanation, for he already knew whom they were referring to. "Tell me you did not."

The triumph on their face was absolutely maddening. “Come. I am extending an invitation."

You wrapped your arms around your midsection, feeling unsteady on your legs despite being seated. Footsteps rang out through the corridors, and as you looked up, Morpheus came forth from one of the lengthy crimson passages. His black shoes struck the smooth floor, halting as his cerulean eyes met your face, brimming with anguish and concern.

At last, there stood Morpheus, the real Morpheus, before you.

“There you are.”

At their words, his face contorted with unbridled irritation. "Desire, I believe I have told you to stay out of my affairs."

"Oh, but I'm doing you a favor, aren't I? This poor girl has been waiting for you."

Desire slid behind you, gripping your shoulders as their lips hovered near your ear. "Unless you'd prefer to leave her defenseless."

You winced as the dreamstone around your neck flared with a faint luminescence, its power somehow dampened. A worrying thought crossed your mind—would the stone's magic hold any sway over the Endless themselves?

Witnessing your discomfort, Morpheus' patience wore thin. "Y/N, come to me."

Without deliberation, you moved swiftly to comply with his directive. Desire released their hold, permitting you to step away without protest. As you moved to Dream’s side, he placed a protective hand against your back.

"You can thank me now or later, sweet Dream."

Desire's actions were clearly calculated to assert dominance over their brother, demonstrating their continued ability to influence and provoke Morpheus regardless of his admonitions.

“Thank you?” His fingers tightened around the fabric of your shirt. "If you ever dare to come near her again, I shall ensure your suffering is eternal."

Desire's laughter could be heard through the chamber one final time, but Morpheus had already turned away. As he guided you from the crimson realm, your surroundings altered again, eventually settling into the shadows of what had become your second home.

You expected him to return you to your dimension and depart immediately, without uttering a single word or showing any sign of intention toward reconciliation. However, as the known ambience of his castle's throne room shaped around the two of you, you regarded Morpheus with an inquisitive look.

"This is not the Waking World."

He blinked slowly, tilting his head. "No."

You had waited so long to be welcomed back into this hallowed hall.

"Why did you bring me here?"

His voice flowed like honey, rich and soothing. “We must talk, you and I.”

Your lips trembled as waves of pent-up frustration crashed through you like a tide. "Oh, so now you want to talk? After ignoring my calls for so long?"

Morpheus lowered his gaze, reflecting pain and remorse like a wounded creature in deepest distress. In an instant, you felt a pang of regret for your harsh outburst, steadying your breath and fidgeting with your fingers. "I’m sorry... I shouldn't have snapped like that. That was rude."

“Your anger is justified.”

"No," you said with a defeated sigh. "You just rescued me, I have no right to treat you unkindly." Spotting the marble stairs at the center of the room, you sank down onto the steps. "I just... I need a moment."

Your stomach churned uncomfortably, accompanied by a throbbing headache beginning to manifest.

"You are unwell." Not a question but a statement.

"The symptoms come and go. I just need some rest."

His expression tightened as he watched your weakened state—exhausted and vulnerable, managing both your daily responsibilities and pregnancy without his assistance.

“Y/N,” he muttered, moving closer, but keeping a respectful distance. “I… I owe you an apology.”

“Do you?”

He nodded gravely. “The Book of Paradoxes speaks in riddles. I spent countless nights parsing its ancient verses.”

“I know.”

“When all paths led to darkness, I chose to bear the burden of separation. A cruel mercy perhaps, but one born of devotion.”

You shook your head, pinching the bridge of your nose. "That felt more like torture than mercy. Besides, even without you, I still ended up risking my life at least once.”

“I am aware of that.”

"All that suffering... tell me, was it for nothing?" You choked out,

“I sought to shield you from harm. To preserve you from the inevitable consequences that follows when one of the Endless dares to love a mortal. But… I have committed a grave error.”

You sniffled, wiping away the tears already tracing their trail down your cheeks.

“My actions have achieved precisely what I tried to prevent, placing both you and our unborn child in the path of destruction.”

“So, the book was just… what, a joke?”

“A trial of fate,” he affirmed. “Like a mirror reflecting the depths of consciousness, the book’s cryptic whispers resonate through the very fabric of reality itself.”

“How?”

“It constantly shifts, revealing truths uniquely tailored to each bearer who dares venture into its pages. Even I, in all my centuries of existence, find myself humbled by certain mysteries that lie within its ancient bindings.”

You let out a pained chuckle, more a lament than laughter. “It’s been so hard, Morpheus.”

“I know, my love. If I had known the path to resolution, I would not have exiled myself from your existence.”

"I just wanted you by my side. We could've faced this together."

“I was trapped in this labyrinth of misunderstanding, each turn leading me further from the truth."

As you finally managed to suppress the rush of nausea, you looked at him through blurry vision. "You said the book is tailored for those who find it, that it represents a trial of fate. What about those passages that convinced you to leave me? What message was it truly trying to convey to both of us?"

"The book was a reflection of my darkest fears - that I would cause you harm, that I would lose you forever... that my love would bring about your demise, as it did with Nada. I could not bear to witness such a fate befall you as well."

Your shoulders slumped. "Morpheus… I've told you before, I'm not Nada."

"No. You are unlike any I have known before. Your presence has changed the very essence of who I am, Y/N. Everything I once believed about myself has been transformed into something... unexpected."

"What does it mean?"

"Your connection to my realm, and the child we have created together, have altered everything I once believed to be immutable."

“Stories can be rewritten.”

The Maiden’s lips twitched into something between a smile and an admonition. "To rewrite fate means altering everything that comes after—love, loss, sacrifice—each word inscribed anew."

A grin tugged at your lips—a genuine sign of victory—at the prospect of having already proven the Fates' predictions ineffectual.

However, your somber mood quickly returned. "I'm sorry you found out about the child like this. I wish I had been the one to tell you."

“I did learn it from you, in a way,” he specified.

“You did?”

“I had an illuminating discourse with an unexpected visitor. Your mother seeked my presence, desiring council; her understanding of the book's mysteries eclipsed even my accumulated knowledge.”

"My mother? Why? I thought she disapproved of our relationship from the start. Why did she suddenly start caring?"

“She finally comprehended the depths of my eternal devotion to you.”

To say you were surprised would be an understatement, as warmth bloomed in your heart at the thought.

“I perceived her unspoken truth about your condition,” he elucidated. “And so I came to the Waking World, to gaze upon what my stubbornness had rendered me blind to for so long.”

You recalled that particular night when, after waking, you had observed golden particles suspended in the air around your bed. At the time, you had simply attributed this phenomenon to your own light abilities, remnants drifting lazily through the atmosphere.

“You were there...”

“I was.”

"But that doesn't change the fact that I couldn't tell you directly myself. I was terrified... and perhaps a part of me was afraid of how you would react."

“Why?”

“I…”

“My love,” he said quietly. “I would never take our child away from you, if that troubles your mind.”

Your brow knitted thoughtfully. "I know you wouldn’t. That's not what I was referring to."

“…Oh?”

You folded your arms pensively. "I didn't know how to approach the subject after what you've been through. You were a father once… and after what happened with Orpheus… I just... I didn't want to stir up those painful memories again."

His face softened, a gentle curve playing at the corners of his mouth. “Did you harbor concern for me? That knowledge of this child would resurrect the shadows of my past?”

You relaxed your legs, joining your hands in your lap. "Yes."

“I am responsible,” he said solemnly. “The burden I placed upon your soul was... unforgivable.”

You hung your head, exhaling a heavy sigh. "You didn’t, not intentionally. I understand your perspective."

He stood rigid, restraining himself from moving any closer. “I do not deserve your kindness.”

"This isn't about what you do or don't deserve.” You lifted your eyes toward the star-filled dome above, its motif a recurrent element in your own dreams. “The night of the accident, I had taken off the Dreamstone. It reminded me of you, and I hated it... I hated not seeing you anymore, not hearing your voice, not feeling your love."

His lips parted, yet he remained silent, allowing you to continue uninterrupted.

"But then, a voice in my head urged me to keep it with me, not to discard it. I faced a choice: ignore my instinct and leave the stone behind, or put it on again. I chose to wear it."

His hands clenched into fists at his sides.

"What I mean is, even if we have a predetermined destiny, our choices still shape our course through life. You tried to keep me safe by leaving me, but I’m actually safest when I am with you. Whether here or in the Waking World, it makes no difference."

The ambient sounds of the Dreaming permeated the castle walls - a symphony of ethereal whispers, crackling flames, and the gentle rustling of ancient tomes.

You cherished every aspect of it.

"The Dreamstone has protected both me and our child. It shielded me from the studio fire, and it even kept the Corinthian at bay in Georgia. The evidence is undeniable, Morpheus. I just wish you'd been there—that we could have discovered this baby together."

He tentatively advanced, bearing the weight of centuries upon himself. “You still hold such affection for me. Yet I have sullied this bond with my failings.”

Your breath came out in trembling gasps. "Of course I do. Nothing could ever change that, not even how infuriating you can be sometimes."

Morpheus closed the distance between you, extending his hand to your face. His touch was feather-light and cautious, filled with such tenderness that it instantly erased the residual tingling left by his sibling.

"Y/N, I know I do not have the right to ask. But...do you believe you could find it in your heart… to forgive me…?"

When you looked at him, his luminous eyes were filled with desperation and pleading. With all the strength you could master, you pushed yourself away from the steps, passing by him while contemplating your response, one hand pressed against your chin.

You gathered your thoughts, allowing yourself a moment to find equilibrium. When you turned to him once more, he watched your movements with an expression of anticipation. He stood tense with nervousness, bracing himself for rejection.

"Swear it," you commanded. "Swear to me that no matter what happens, no matter what prophecy you find or hear, no matter what anyone tells you about me or our future, you won't leave me again."

You cried freely then, releasing all the sorrow you had tried to suppress for so long. "Swear to me that we will face everything together as partners. That you will seek my help. I love you more than the universe itself, Morpheus, but I cannot bear to be abandoned again, left waiting for your return, not knowing if it will be in vain."

His rigidity gave way to unstable steps, his coat brushing against your arms as he stopped in front of you. The flaring redness rimming his eyes revealed weeks of concealed agony, as tears traced silvery paths down his face.

“I swear it.”

Your heart ached at his vulnerability - you had only seen such raw emotion once before, in his memories of Jessamy's tragic end.

"I swear it on all that I am. I swear it upon the Dreaming itself. I swear it on what remains of my son. And I swear it upon my unborn child."

His words struck deep, leaving you breathless and breaking down your last emotional defenses. “Never again?”

“No. Never shall I abandon you again. I make this solemn vow.”

A strangled sound escaped your chest as your crashed your lips against his, hands cradling his face as if holding the most precious treasure in existence. His arms encircled you at once, fingers weaving through your hair and grasping a few tresses with quivering digits. You held onto him like a lifeline, your arms wrapping around his neck as you deepened the kiss, tongues meeting in a passionate embrace.

The room filled with the melody of sighs and soft moans as you abandoned yourselves to each other, all the pent-up longing and desire exploding like fireworks. Morpheus’ breath was hitching, shaking, tears mingling between you as your lips danced together. The candles' flames intensified, their sway celebrating the rekindled connection between your two souls.

When you finally detached from him to catch your breath, you wiped away the tears that stained his cheeks, also collecting the fresh ones that formed.

"Oh, my silly Dream," you whispered with a smile. "What am I ever going to do with you?"

Leaning forward, he touched his forehead to yours. “Forgive me. Please. That is all I dare ask.”

You kissed him one more time, puckering your lips softly against his—a kiss he immediately returned.

"Though I was tempted to keep you on edge a bit longer, I don't have the heart for that. I've already forgiven you," you reassured him. "And while we're on the subject, I believe I owe you an apology too, Morpheus."

“An apology? To me?”

"Mmhm."

“Why?”

Absently touching your abdomen, you let your fingers slip onto his hand. "The first night we spent together, I told you I was protected. And it's true, I really was—I'd been on birth control for a long time. But when I was here, as your guest, I didn't have my medication with me."

His fingers curled around yours, initially cold, but instantly warming in your hold.

"Time moves differently between here and the Waking World, and I completely lost track. I was conscious and should have been more careful, but... I made a mistake. This child came to be as a result. I'm so sorry, Morpheus… I know it must have been shocking."

His eyes shone, though his tears had subsided. "You need not apologize to me, my love."

“It’s just…” You trailed off,

“The responsibility lies with both of us.” He paused, studying your abdomen with heartfelt wonder. “And it is... a blessing beyond measure.”

"Really? But... do you truly want this with me?"

“I would not have it any other way.”

Your posture relaxed visibly as your tension melted away from your features.

Morpheus reached toward your abdomen, his hand hovering with tentativeness. His expression held both hope and uncertainty, as if unsure whether he had permission to make contact. “May I…?”

Gently, you guided his hand to rest atop your abdomen where your child was growing, his palm spreading softly against the material of your shirt. “You must.”

He remained still, sensing the energy flowing in you, your hand protectively covering his. Morpheus' eyes widened in wonder, his lips parting as dark red rings returned around his eyes.

"Is something wrong?" you asked, reading his face.

“No, nothing is wrong,” he said with fondness. “I sense the child's essence. It resonates through the tapestry of dreams.”

“Aw.”

“She shall become a most magnificent arbiter between our worlds.”

You blinked as his other hand reached your waist, pulling you closer. "Wait... 'she'?"

“Yes,” he replied with a smile. “Our daughter.”

The Endless' ability to perceive beings and their biological imprint was truly phenomenal. In contrast, modern medical imaging was required to detect the initial cardiac activity of your developing child.

“We’re having a little girl….”

As everything crashed down on you, you finally relaxed into his arms, your legs becoming wobbly yet remaining steady enough to keep you standing. All those weeks of pain, grief, and insecurity—all the tears that had fallen and continued to spill—everything you had endured was worth it for this single moment of happiness.

"I love you. More than all the stars across infinite universes."

You gripped the back of his coat, holding him firmly, your face buried in the crook of his neck. "I love you too, Morpheus. I've missed you so much."

"I have missed you as well... as has my realm. Will you rest here tonight? Allow me to care for you, both of you, as I should have done from the beginning?"

You chuckled softly, your lips trembling as your nose traced the line of his jaw. "Absolutely."

All that was left was a sense of completeness, in spite of all the warnings and dirty games you had forcibly tackled.

"As long as you're the one sending me to sleep, my wonderful king."

Final notes: The next chapter will include lots of romance, and also bring back the smut. From now until the finale, the story will feature nothing but wholesome and positive events, along with a bit of additional lore.

I would also like to credit Corridor Digital on YouTube for their "ROT" video, which you can find here. It's a Silent Hill fan film that I highly recommend if you're not a SL fan. I used it as an inspiration for the nightmare part specifically.

#the sandman #the sandman netflix #dream of the endless x reader #morpheus x reader #the sandman fanfic #the sandman writing

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rainbowmoonstonestories · 2 months ago

Text

Let Your Dreams Be Your Wings | Chapter 25

Chapters: 25/? 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 @gallantys . 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: I am actually posting TWO chapters at once (one of the reason why it took me so long, along with the OP writing I'm also working on). Like I previously mentioned in a post, I was planning to conclude the drama between Morpheus and Reader in this update, but with everything I wanted to include, it was yet again turning into a gigantic piece. However, since I promised you I'd get things resolved in the coming update, I didn't have the heart to make you all wait again. So yeah, here you have it; chapter 25 and 26!

The story may not go beyond Chapter 30, but that depends on what I want to add. Also, with season 2 coming out in July, I might be able to create a finale that leaves the door open for the new episodes. And then, Le Your Dreams Be Your Wings, will get a sequel.

A pleasant night out with Hob triggered a potentially catastrophic accident. The separation from Morpheus was meant to keep you safe, yet without him, you seemed more vulnerable than ever. Meanwhile, The Dream Lord and Lucienne continued their search for the Book of Paradoxes, still concealed within the Library's depths.

While preparing for the evening's engagement, your reflection stared back at you like someone facing their final march to the gallows.

When Hob suggested a night out to provide a proper distraction, you immediately declined, but he gently insisted and persuaded you to retrieve your cosmetics case and slip into something more elegant.

"You've been working yourself to the bone these past weeks, barely taking a breather even when you're home. Got to think about the little one there, Shortcake. Let your old mate Hob show you a proper good time."

Considering how he had dedicated himself to ensuring your wellbeing with his constant presence in your apartment, accepting his thoughtful invitation felt like a fitting way to express appreciation for his genuine concern. His daily commute across town to reach his workplace was a significant commitment, and he had firmly resolved to stay until he was certain you had regained your emotional stability—or at least, some semblance of it.

In the end, you relented. Devoting meticulous attention to your appearance, your applied some makeup with precision and selected an ensemble for the evening's undisclosed destination, striking a balance between elegant and casual. The prospect of socializing weighed heavily upon you, your thoughts inevitably returning to the Endless and his prolonged silence, the pain of his dismissal in the library still fresh in your mind.

The lack of even the most basic courtesy left you in a state of great disappointment. You were seething with rage, consumed by fury, your blood burning with resentment. Yet, had he offered even the simplest apology, you would have forgiven him without hesitation, rushing back into his arms.

"You ready yet?" Hob called from behind your bedroom door. “Are you all right?”

"Yes, I’m fine. Just a moment!"

"I'll wait in the living room then."

Exhaling deeply, you retrieved your jacket and secured your bag, inadvertently making contact with the Dreamstone while adjusting the strap. The artifact, which had served as both a protective talisman and tangible reminder of Morpheus' affection for months - crafted in the Dreaming before your very presence - now left you wondering about its continued significance.

He was no longer part of your life, and even as you clung to the hope for him to return for you and your child, you began to recognize that such wishful thinking might ultimately prove detrimental to your health.

The Dreamstone was a poignant reminder of what you had lost, compelling you to consider relinquishing its possession, if only temporarily.

With a heavy heart, you unclasped the chain and removed the necklace from your neck, the luminescence of the Moonstone suddenly becoming pale and close to nonexistent as you placed it into the drawer of your nightstand. Inside, the dream shell remained, its once vibrant essence now diminished to a shadow, leaving you immobilized as tears threatened to spill forth.

With a resigned sigh, you put the Dreamstone beside it and closed the drawer, composing yourself with several breaths to suppress your mounting sadness. You straightened your back, gripped the jacket's fabric so tightly your nails nearly tore through it, and walked to the door with leaden steps, as if your feet were sinking into the floor.

But before you could even reach for the handle, barely touching it with your fingertips, a sudden voice in your head stopped you cold, as if doused with ice water.

"Take the Dreamstone."

The voice was commanding and powerful, resonating through your consciousness with unmistakable urgency, presenting an implicit choice that demanded immediate consideration.

"Take it with you."

Your heightened intuition returned with unprecedented clarity, accompanied by an overpowering sensation of foreboding that elicited an involuntary physical response of apprehension. You staggered backward, trembling and gasping, your eyes wide with terror as the jacket slipped from your weakening arm and crumpled to the floor.

"Take it. Take the Dreamstone," the voice—your voice—commanded.

The rational choice would have been to disregard these premonitions and leave the pendant behind, prioritizing your emotions and your unborn child. However, years of experience with your intuitive abilities had taught you that these warnings were neither products of an overactive imagination nor unfounded anxieties. The significance of this warning was undeniable, and ignoring it could lead to severe consequences.

Potential repercussions whose severity required prudent deliberation and preventive action, undoubtedly. You weren't willing to take that risk.

Without hesitation, you retrieved the Dreamstone from your nightstand, faster than lightning, instinctively pressing it against your chest before gently planting a reverent kiss upon its cool surface. Instantly, the stone warmed against your palm, its blue glow becoming brighter and seemingly alive.

A surge of renewed hope illuminated your spirit, spreading from your heart and descending to your abdomen, right where the tiny new life resided.

"So, where are you taking me again?" you asked, linking your arm with Hob's as you both wandered through London's streets.

"Well, there's this brilliant little pub just around the corner. They do a proper karaoke night on Fridays."

You halted abruptly. "Wait—karaoke? Is that what you're planning?"

"You told me yourself you fancy a bit of singing, didn't you?"

"Yes, but that's when I'm alone at home. You know, in the shower or singing along to my playlist. Actually performing in public? That's a whole different thing, Hob."

He shrugged dismissively. "I’m not gonna twist your arm about it. Just thought it'd be a proper laugh, at least. Give us both a bit of entertainment."

“I don’t know…”

"We ain't gonna be out all night. Just pop in for a quick hour. I'll have a proper drink, you can stick to whatever suits you. We'll enjoy some decent tunes and watch some poor sods make right fools of themselves, then I'll get you straight back home whenever you fancy. Simple as that!"

You sighed. "I don't feel comfortable mocking other people, that’s not my style."

"Hey, it is not mine either! But come on now, just give us one hour of your time. That's all I'm asking for."

His infectious enthusiasm and thoughtful planning made it difficult to decline. He knew those puppy dog eyes were his secret weapon, and you fell for them every single time.

"Fine," you said with a smile. "Just an hour, and then we'll head home."

"Now that's a proper deal!"

You resumed your journey together, his gentle grip on your shoulder guiding you forward as he led the way. The evening air was crisp, causing your hair to dance softly in the breeze. The streets were bustling with an array of pedestrians - couples strolling hand in hand, families enjoying their evening walks, and groups of friends congregating at various establishments throughout the neighborhood.

As you ventured further into the lamp-lit thoroughfares, your inclination for social interaction steadily diminished.

The pub was situated just a few blocks away, its welcoming ambiance enhanced by the soft glow of fairy lights, lanterns, and flickering candles. The atmosphere resonated with jovial laughter and spirited applause, punctuated by an amateur performer's earnest yet imperfect rendition of a popular song.

The host escorted you to a secluded table positioned at a comfortable distance from the stage, offering an optimal vantage point. Hob selected a premium single malt whiskey for himself, while ordering a glass of fresh almond milk to accommodate your needs.

"I must say, this place is quite charming," you observed.

"I know, right? They've only been open a short while, but the place is absolutely buzzing."

As the man on stage concluded his song, his supporters in the front row erupted in ovation and cheers. The next participant, a young woman in her 20s, gracefully took her position in front of the microphone’s stand, anxiously smoothing out her shirt and pursing her lips. When presented with the available song selections, she chose Billie Eilish's "Happier Than Ever." Her interpretation demonstrated notable skill, delivering the melody with impressive control and harmonious pitch, though occasionally showing slight tension during more difficult passages.

"She's quite good, isn't she?" Hob remarked.

"Yes. Billie Eilish's songs aren’t easy, but she's performing it beautifully."

As time progressed, the night’s entertainment seamlessly transitioned from one participant to the next, and what was intended to be a brief visit extended well into a second hour, with your enjoyment surpassing all original expectations. It proved to be therapeutic, providing a much-needed respite from your thoughts of Morpheus and the emotional turmoil following you.

However, all it took for your mood to plummet was seeing the final performer on stage directing his attention to a woman seated at a nearby table. What began as a casual solo transformed into an intimate marriage proposal, culminating in an emotional scene as his partner, overcome with joy, rushed to embrace him while joyfully accepting amidst the applauding crowd.

The moment was a moving testament to love's beauty, as the newly engaged couple subsequently sang a duet together, their voices trembling with pure happiness and elation. Their smiles radiated like the sun, their eyes shining like distant stars.

It was undeniably touching, but you were unable to join in the collective celebration. You remained impassive as tears threatened to breach the corners of your eyes, your heart pounding heavily in your chest. Inhaling deeply, you blinked the tears away and averted your gaze, finding the remaining drops of milk in your glass suddenly fascinating.

It felt like an infinite torment, each day bringing forth a fresh wave of sorrow that seemed inexhaustible.

"All right, it's almost midnight. Would anyone like to perform our final song?"

As the host made the announcement, a sharp ringing filled your ears. Noting the anguish written across your features, Hob's face grew contemplative as an idea began to crystallize in his mind. One that was about to take form.

"No one? Shall we call it a night then?"

Before you could even process it, Hob grabbed your wrist and lifted your hand in the air. "Over here mate!"

You whirled toward your friend, eyes wide with shock, your complexion turning pale with dread. "Hob, what are you doing?!"

"Oh, wonderful! Come on up, the stage is all yours!"

As curious heads turned toward you, Hob gave you an encouraging nod. “Come on, love. Time to treat these folks to some proper talent."

"Hob, you can't be serious. I can't sing in front of all these people… you don't even know if I'm any good," you whispered through clenched teeth.

"What's there to care about? Look, use this as your chance to let it all out. Just pretend I'm the only one watching, or you're back home singing to yourself in the loo or your bedroom. Or maybe picture everyone in their knickers, me included. That's what they say works."

"Miss? Would you like to sing, or shall we move on?"

Still caught off guard but seeing no way out, you yielded with a sigh. "Yes, I'm coming."

As you stood, you shot Hob a playful glare, mouthing "You'll pay for this later," which was met with his signature winning grin.

Nervousness coursed through your body as you approached the platform, the bright spotlights momentarily disorienting you.

The host paused, his expression a mixture of curiosity and anticipation as he held the microphone near his lips. "Wait a moment… we have an actual celebrity here!"

A quiet murmur rippled through the audience, your cheeks warming under the intense theatrical lighting.

"Is that Y/N Y/LN?"

"It's definitely her!"

"Oh my God, I adore her work!"

While you had always aspired to make a name for yourself in the fashion industry, being suddenly thrust into celebrity status was not something you felt prepared for.

"Well, this is quite an honor, isn't it? Which song would you like to grace us with?"

Scanning through the song list presented by the host, you carefully reviewed each option through your blurry vision. Despite your reservations about singing before a crowd, one particular title resonated deeply with you, standing out among all the selections.

It was undeniably daring, but something drew you irresistibly to this choice.

Your finger landed decisively on the picked song, causing the host to stare at you with sudden perplexity. "Uh… are you sure?" he asked in a low voice, holding the microphone aside to speak privately.

"What's wrong? It's on the list, isn't it?"

“Yes, it’s just…”

The host's hesitation evidently stemmed from the song's technical complexity and demanding vocal range. Given the number of people who already had their phones out and ready, an unsuccessful performance could potentially impact both your public reputation and the venue's standing. In today's digital age, social media platforms could rapidly amplify and scrutinize even minor missteps, generating unwanted chaos from nothing and potentially resulting in offensive content created purely for amusement and views.

His skepticism served only to strengthen your resolve, however, transforming your uncertainty into unshakeable confidence.

"I want to sing this song, if you would," you announced firmly.

Clearing his throat, he gave you a quick nod. "Very well. Ladies and gentlemen, our fashion prodigy is gracing us with a very special song: 'Human' by Christina Perri. Let's give her an encouraging round of applause!"

More claps erupted in the room as the host queued up the instrumental track. Your eyes located Hob, who flashed a wide smile and a supportive thumbs-up.

“Use this as your chance to let it all out.”

Indeed, you were prepared to channel every emotion into this expression of music. If Morpheus would not listen through the conventional channels of communication, perhaps your voice could transcend the barriers between your worlds.

The instrumental track began as the host descended from the stage. You approached the microphone, grasping it with one hand while steadying its holder with the other. You closed your eyes, readying yourself to sing the opening verse, the lyrics you knew by heart displayed on the monitor in front of you.

You didn’t need to read a single word, and you knew precisely what your soul was about to release into the universe.

Hob's jaw dropped at the ethereal quality of your voice, echoing in the room through the amplified sound of the microphone. Although some patrons had continued their conversations during previous numbers, the venue fell into complete silence the instant you began to sing.

"I can hold my breath,

I can bite my tongue,”

Each passing day, you kept a perfect façade of composure while battling an internal storm. Beneath the surface, an emptiness persisted, yet you projected strength despite the emotional strain tearing you apart. You refrained from saying the things you truly wanted to—at work, during calls with your father, and sometimes even with Hob. How much you missed your King of Dreams, how deeply it pained you not hearing the sound of his voice anymore. You made a conscious effort to hold back from initiating contact, recognizing that further rejection would only inflict deeper wounds upon your heart.

"I can stay awake for days if that's what you want,

Be your number one.”

You would have done anything for him, even pushing yourself beyond physical limits, were it not for the child growing inside your womb. Had he only asked, you would have waited for him forever.

You desperately wanted to hate him, but despite everything, you still believed he deserved only kindness and understanding. After all, the visible deterioration of the Dreaming served as testament to his suffering. Whether justified or misguided, his actions arose from his devotion to you.

The irony was not lost on you. Morpheus intended to secure your happiness, but what he did had paradoxically become the source of your most excruciating agony.

"I can fake a smile,

I can force a laugh,

I can dance and play the part if that's what you ask,

Give you all I am.”

You tried to project a picture of normalcy. You smiled in front of others, pretending the pain wasn't consuming you from within. You were crumbling, piece by piece, and you couldn't find a way to put yourself back together. You couldn’t breathe, every moment filled with a constant, dull ache in your chest, from sunrise to the moment sleep finally claimed you.

You feigned laughter, but every second felt hollow without him at your side. You continued moving forward, even though your heart was no longer in it. You gave Morpheus your love, your trust, your entire being… everything you were, everything you had. Even now, you felt like you still belonged to him.

"I can do it,

I can do it,

I can do it.”

You convinced yourself of your resilience, certain that your inner strength would carry you through this for as long as it was necessary. Still, your neverending heartbreak grew increasingly burdensome, making even the simplest tasks feel monumentally difficult.

"But I'm only human,”

And I bleed when I fall down,

I'm only human, and I crash and I break down,”

No matter how tough you tried to be, his silence was truly pushing you beyond your limits. The pain cut deep in ways words couldn't capture, you ached for his return, longing for him to once again be part of your existence.

You were giving it your all, but most days felt like you were just falling short. It all became meaningless—except for your child, who deserved to be nurtured and cared for.

"Your words in my head, knives in my heart,”

"You build me up and then I fall apart,

’Cause I'm only human.”

Morpheus had made you feel more deeply loved than ever before in your life. The same love that once elevated you to such heights had now sent you crashing to earth.

"You'll never leave me, right?" you asked earnestly.

Your question caught him off guard, and he needed a moment to process the fact that, for once, it was someone else begging him to stay.

"No. I will not.”

"Promise me," you pressed him, resonating with the wounds of past betrayals. "Promise me that no matter what, you won't break my heart.” Morpheus appeared genuinely sincere, his eyes filled with absolute convinction. "You have my word.”

You were not an immortal being, not a divine entity with unlimited power. You were simply human—a mortal who had experienced the pure bliss of loving Dream of the Endless, only to have it all slip away like morning mist.

"Woah, she's really good," someone commented, followed by an appreciative whistle from the back of the room.

By then, you were lost in the lyrics, the bright spotlight rendering the audience invisible.

“I can turn it on,

Be a good machine,”

I can hold the weight of worlds if that's what you need,

Be your everything.”

You would willingly bear any burden for Morpheus. You struggled to cope with the remnants of your relationship, your unborn child, and the crushing pressure of separation—all while trying to stay afloat and grappling with mysterious magical abilities beyond your understanding. Your deepest desire was to be his pillar of fortitude, offering him all that was in your capacity, if he would only accept it.

Your voice ascended to a higher register as you delivered the lyrics with an intensity that belied your doubts.

“I can do it,”

“I’ll get through it.”

You closed your eyes again, your hand instinctively moving from the microphone stand to rest upon your abdomen. A mesmerizing aura enveloped the place as the audience watched you transfixed, under your indirect spell, each person deeply moved by the emotional resonance of your raw, heart-wrenching delivery.

"But I'm only human,”

And I bleed when I fall down,

I'm only human, and I crash and I break down,

Your words in my head, knives in my heart,

You build me up and then I fall apart,

’Cause I'm only human.”

During the musical interlude, your gaze drifted above the crowd. An unexpected presence caught your attention at the back of the venue, something distinct from the ordinary surroundings. For a fleeting moment, you perceived Morpheus' silhouette among the shadows, his dark figure striking against the ambient light, watching your performance in stillness.

But as soon as you blinked, the dark figure vanished, leaving you to rationalize it as a mere manifestation of your mind, or perhaps just a trick of the lights.

Your voice trembled on the edge of breaking, but you channeled your mounting frustration into a powerful rendition of the following verse.

“I’m only human,

I’m only human,

Just a little human.”

The extension of your voice astonished even you as you sustained that note with unprecedented resistance. When the last echoes faded, you were completely exhausted, breathless, and utterly spent.

“I can take so much,

‘Till I’ve had enough.”

The situation had become untenable. A resolution was imperative, regardless of what revelations the Book of Paradoxes might contain. His unilateral decision-making had effectively stripped you of any agency in determining the course of events, a fundamentally inequitable approach to what should have been a mutual discussion from the start.

With renewed determination, you summoned the energy to sing the closing chorus.

“’Cause I'm only human,

And I bleed when I fall down,

I'm only human, and I crash and I break down,

Your words in my head, knives in my heart,

You build me up and then I fall apart,

’Cause I'm only human.”

As the final notes faded away, the instrumental accompaniment drew to a close. Your pulse thundered in your head, nearly drowning out the thunderous applause and commendations from the audience. With a modest smile, you muttered a quiet "thank you" before stepping away from the stage. Tucking an errant strand of hair behind your ear, you made your way back to where Hob sat waiting at your table, navigating through a group of animated patrons eager to compliment your abilities aloud.

Hob immediately rose from his seat with such urgency that he nearly toppled his chair. He wrapped you in the most crushing embrace he had ever given, holding you close as his breathing trembled against your shoulder.

"Blimey, Shortcake, that was absolutely bloody brilliant," he declared. "I mean, I knew you'd be good, but that? You brought the house down."

"You're exaggerating."

"Exaggerating?? That was magnificent! You've outdone the original artist herself!"

You chuckled, nonchalantly grabbing your bag. "I think we can head out now. I'm a bit out of breath."

The host appeared thoroughly impressed, visibly ecstatic about the potential for positive reviews. "Wow, what just happened? That was hands down the best performance today—if not the best of all time since we opened. Perfect conclusion. Enjoy the rest of your night, everyone!"

As Hob assisted you with your jacket, two girls came forward respectfully, clutching a clean napkin with nervous hands.

"Excuse me. May we ask for your autograph?" one of the girls asked timidly.

Your eyebrows shot up in shock. "Mine?"

The other girl nodded. "Yes, we're fans of your work. Corbyn&Jones is by far our favorite brand. I spend most of my salary on your clothes these days."

"And the jewelry! The designs are so unique and beautiful. Look! I've got this bracelet and I never take it off!"

A smile brightened your face as you spotted one of your creations adorning her wrist, its silver chain and charms catching the warm light. You noticed they were both wearing knee-length dresses from your latest collection, which created the perfect statement look for a night on the town.

Both garments complemented their wearers' figures and styles impeccably.

"I don't know what to say, you've made me truly proud just now," you replied. "Hob, do you have a pen?"

"Of course I've got a pen! Been carryin' one since before they were even invented!"

Both girls chortled at what they assumed was just a clever joke, oblivious to its literal truth.

"Here you go. Make it worthy of that lovely name of yours."

With a professional smile, you gracefully signed both napkins, preserving your penmanship despite your unsteady grip to ensure an elegant signature. This marked your first in-person autograph request since your name gained prominence following the Fashion Show, representing the fulfillment of your long-held aspiration - not merely achieving success, but empowering others through your designs.

Satisfied, the young women rejoined their companions, carefully holding their napkins as cherished mementos. You attempted to return the pen, but Hob insisted you keep it as a token of good fortune.

While this was everything you had dreamed of achieving, at present, you were unable to fully embrace the triumph.

"I have to admit, that was actually liberating. Though I don't think I want to do it again anytime soon."

“….”

"Come to think of it, choosing that song was quite risky. It could've ended badly."

“….”

Hob's uncharacteristic quietness made you look over your shoulder, suddenly worried you had accidentally left him behind. “Hob?”

He stood a foot away, hands thrust deep into his jacket pockets, his smile tinged with melancholy. "I’ve been thinking about something for a fair while now."

You tilted your head and asked, "What is it?"

"You know I've been kickin' around this mortal coil for centuries, and like I've mentioned before, I wouldn't mind sharing that gift of immortality with you. You know, make you my partner in all sorts of mischief."

You laughed. “Hob, seriously—”

"I am bloody serious. This is no joke, Shortcake. I mean every word of it."

With a deep sigh, you wrapped one hand around your collar, shielding yourself from the gusty wind. "Hob, it's getting late. Maybe we should talk about this another time."

"Look, I won't keep you standing about in the cold for this. Just... after tonight especially, you've become proper special to me."

"Oh? Are you saying I wasn't special before?"

He let out a hearty laugh. "Of course you were! What I'm gettin' at is... you're a big deal. You're family to me. And while I'll keep on trucking through the centuries, watching humanity muck about with their so-called progress and whatnot, one day... well, one day you won't be around anymore."

“Hob—”

"I’m not trying to force your hand or nothing. Just... give it a serious think. I know we've had this chat not long ago, but... bloody hell, Y/N, I can't bear the thought of you not being in my life anymore."

Your lower lip quivered. "I'm here now, though."

"Yeah, but for how long? One day you'll be pushing 90 or 100... and then Death will come knocking. And now with this little miracle growin’ inside you, I mean... wouldn't it be nice to stick around a bit longer? Leave more of a mark on this mad world of ours?"

You reached out your hand to him, and he took it without a moment's hesitation. "Don't get yourself all worked up now, love. You've no idea what that daft bugger's got planned. If he comes back - and he better, mind you - with you carrying his little one and all, would you really want to leave the rest of us behind?"

Every aspect of the situation felt like another blade twisting in your heart.

Words in my head, knives in my heart.

"I'm exhausted right now, Hob. But I promise you, I'll truly consider it this time."

"That's all I'm asking. I just don’t want to lose you. I’ve been alive long enough to know what that feels like."

You reciprocated his gentle grip with equal affection. "You'll make me cry. You know pregnancy has my emotions running high."

"Right, sorry about that. Didn't mean to get all sentimental on you. Let's get you home then, you need a good kip after all that."

Releasing your hand, Hob took his place beside you as you both continued your walk back to your residence. The streets had grown quieter, your footsteps echoing in the night.

Suddenly, Hob's phone rang, causing both of you to stop in your tracks. When he pulled it from his pocket, his expression darkened at the caller's name displayed on the screen.

"Sorry, I've gotta take this one."

As a dedicated educator, he frequently received calls from his students at unconventional hours. His role extended beyond normal teaching, as he served as a trusted mentor and guide to his pupils. After answering the call, he stepped aside and spoke in hushed tones, discussing matters beyond your comprehension.

"What? Nah. Eh? What are you on about?"

Your attention wandered to the convenience store across the street. As your nausea had finally subsided for the day, your appetite had begun to return, and you started to crave a light snack as your stomach grumbled.

Not wanting to interrupt his call, you quietly gestured to Hob that you were heading to the store. He acknowledged with a brief nod while continuing his conversation, which appeared to be growing increasingly complex.

After carefully checking for traffic, you proceeded across the pedestrian crossing. The street appeared calm and deserted until a deafening sound suddenly shattered the silence as you reached the midpoint. A vehicle emerged out of nowhere, hurtling from left to right at excessive speed, with the driver exhibiting signs of impairment.

Time seemed to decelerate as you pivoted toward the oncoming car, your limbs paralyzed on the spot.

“Y/N!!!”

The horrifying realization struck as the vehicle barreled toward you without slowing. Time seemed to stretch as the headlights grew impossibly bright, and your body instinctively responded by closing your eyes, bracing for impact.

Then, silence fell.

Morpheus entered the throne room in a contemplative state, as if in a trance, his chest constricting and feeling crushed by an invisible force. When he visited the Waking World in search of you, he was astonished to discover you performing on stage; your voice now resonated in his mind, melting into his heart like liquid gold.

After witnessing Orpheus' tragedy, he had resigned himself to never again experiencing such exquisite musicality. Yet here you were, revealing yet another extraordinary talent that took his breath away, making him long even more desperately to return to your side.

Your vocals were extraordinary, and the meaning behind those words was clearly directed at him. Though he was not well-versed in contemporary human music, the intentionality behind your song selection was unmistakable.

He was conducting a thorough search, but the Book of Paradoxes remained elusive, concealed within the depths of his castle and refusing to manifest itself for him again. His devouring need to be with you and your unborn child was tempered by the grave responsibility of ensuring your safety—this without complete knowledge of the consequences that lay ahead, whatever those might be.

Should the Book of Paradoxes require a previously unconsidered interpretation, it was crucial that he address this oversight expeditiously.

A simple apology would be insufficient to rectify the gravity of his actions, and the weight of his remorse was eating him from the inside out like an infectious bacterium. Would you permit him to return to your life, to assume his rightful role as father and partner as if his absence had never occurred?

Though part of him believed he was unworthy of both you and the child, abandoning the woman he loved and the miracle creature you conceived together was no longer an option he was willing to consider.

Just as he prepared to resume his search in the library, a powerful wave of energy ripped through him, causing his entire being to tremble and grow cold.

A shattering sense of terror consumed him as he detected a severe disturbance, one that seemed to radiate directly from your essence in combination with the Dreamstone around your neck.

Your heart leaped as you reflexively raised your arms in a defensive position. Mere inches before impact, the Dreamstone activated, generating a celestial barrier that appeared as a translucent shield—its brilliant blue light colliding with the oncoming vehicle. The force of the impact was so strong that it crumpled the hood and made the engine inoperable, leaving it smoking and destroyed.

The car veered off course, colliding with a nearby lamppost. The deafening silence was shattered by the blaring of the car's horn and the deployment of the airbag, while the disoriented driver made frantic gestures, struggling to open the jammed door.

“Y/N!!!! Are you all right??????”

Hob hastened to your side, his mobile phone still clutched in his grasp, his expression etched with shock and fright.

As you released a shaky breath, your hands instinctively moved to your abdomen, checking to ensure both you and the baby were unharmed. "I'm fine... we both are."

"Are you sure? That car didn’t hit you, did it?"

“No. It didn’t.”

The accident drew a crowd of spectators from nearby establishments, with people emerging from restaurants and pubs to witness the scene. Those indoors peered through windows or ventured onto balconies, observing a situation that defied logical explanation.

When the driver finally managed to exit the vehicle, he collapsed onto the pavement, exhibiting clear signs of intoxication and severe motor dysfunction.

A sound from Hob's phone indicated the call was still active. He raised the device to his ear, briefly informing the caller he would contact them later, before terminating the conversation - all while keeping a deadly glare at the inebriated driver.

"You absolute wanker! What the bloody hell were you thinking, driving like that?!"

In a flash, Hob slammed the man against the side of the car, gripping his collar. "You could've killed her, you sodding git! That woman there is pregnant, you absolute idiot!!"

“I—uhh—what….”

"Look at the state of you. Can't even string two words together, you drunken bastard."

After releasing the man, who collapsed to the ground again in his dazed state, Hob's jaw clenched so tight you feared it might snap. Approaching you with concern, he conducted a thorough visual assessment of your condition, methodically examining you for any signs of injury.

"Y/N, what just happened? I saw that car coming straight at you... how in blazes did you manage that?"

"I didn't do anything. It was the Dreamstone."

“The what now?”

"This," you said, holding up the pendant.

The stone's surface was covered by its typical blue luminescence, moving around in an intricate spiral pattern before returning to its quiescent state.

"Ah, thought I'd seen a bit of magic there. He actually managed to do one decent thing, I'll give 'im that much."

Hob guided you to the sidewalk, providing support as you exhibited visible signs of post-incident shock. Shortly thereafter, law enforcement cars arrived at the scene, their sirens piercing the night air as the forming traffic redirected to accommodate them. Emergency medical services followed promptly, attending to the incapacitated driver who remained motionless on the ground, mumbling incoherently.

Given that your protection came from a mystical amulet created by the Lord of Dreams, completing the police report proved rather delicate. Hob handled the situation diplomatically, explaining to the officers that the drunken driver had swerved into the lamppost while attempting to avoid a collision with you at the crosswalk.

Taking your physical condition into consideration, the attending paramedics strongly recommended a precautionary examination at the hospital to ensure both maternal and fetal wellbeing. Despite your insistence that you were unscathed, Hob agreed that a medical evaluation would be a prudent decision, given the potential psychological impact of such a significant trauma.

Too drained to protest further, you consented to medical transport, accompanied by Hob, while emergency services simultaneously transferred the driver for assessment.

"You're not going to her?" Matthew asked, peering up at his boss with questioning dark eyes.

Morpheus stood rigid, his expression tense as he stared at the paramedics assisting you into the ambulance.

"The time is not right," he replied gravely.

"Uhh boss, c'mon! She almost got pancaked by a car just now! She's gotta be totally freaked out. If this isn't the perfect time to show up, then when is?"

"What can I possibly give her now that would make any of this better?"

Matthew heaved a weary sigh. "Look, I know you're the lord of all dreaminess and whatever, but let's cut the crap here - you're just making excuses!"

Morpheus' hands clenched into fists in the pockets of his black coat. "She was meant to be safe, Matthew. This outcome was… never intended.""

"Well, your plan sure went sideways, didn't it?"

As the emergency vehicle departed, Morpheus maintained his vigilant watch until the ambulance vanished into the distance.

"Look, here's the deal. This whole thing is just caw ridiculous! You left because this dusty old Book showed you some doom and gloom about your relationship, and you got it in your head that she'd be better off without your brooding self around. But hey, after what just went down? caw I'd say your crystal ball needs a serious reality check!"

Upon reflection, Morpheus acknowledged the gravity of his error. He had hastily chosen the path of greatest suffering without fully examining alternative possibilities, under the misguided assumption that no viable solution existed for your shared future.

Where dreams and reality intertwine,

The bond between souls unravels and dies.

Even after thorough analysis, he could not escape the ominous implications within the text. But if you and your child required such protection in his absence, how could he provide for your safety when your love appeared destined to bring misfortune? To what extent could the Dreamstone's capabilities alone shield you from physical harm?

While his mystical artifacts possessed undeniable power and reliability, he questioned whether an unknown external influence might be affecting the circumstances.

One might attribute this occurance to mere chance or unfortunate timing, but Morpheus knew better—there were far deeper implications at play.

“I was wrong, Matthew.”

"No judgment here, your heart was in the right place. But seriously? This whole thing's gone pretty bad! I get it, you're not exactly rushing to face her after everything, but how long are you gonna keep this up? She's carrying your kid, for crying out loud!"

"I assure you, I will not rest until I have made this right. The universe itself will bend to my will if necessary."

Matthew spread his wings and stepped forward. "Now that's what I wanna hear! And hey, if you need a raven's-eye view on anything, I'm your bird!"

Morpheus nodded, offering the raven the faintest hint of a smile. "Very well. You know your duties, Matthew."

"Right on, boss! On it like a crow on roadkill!"

With a final caw, Matthew took flight, his wings carrying him in pursuit of the ambulance. Through his eyes, he kept a constant connection to the King of Dreams, who returned to his castle vigilantly aware of your whereabouts, never letting you out of his sight.

You had not yet undergone an ultrasound examination since discovering your pregnancy. The room was softly lit, the soft hum of the machine filling your ears as you reclined on the examination bed with your abdomen exposed.

The technician applied the cool ultrasound gel, moving the transducer in circular motions. You watched the monitor with mixed anticipation and anxiety, a hazy, grayscale image materializing on the screen.

Given his peculiar nature as the Lord of Dreams, the thought of Morpheus in such a mundane setting as a medical clinic struck you as quite comical. Moreover, his innate abilities likely rendered traditional diagnostics redundant, as the baby's heartbeat had registered in the Dreaming before the heart itself had even fully formed.

None of that mattered now, all things considered, as you were forced to experience seeing your child for the first time without him.

"Let's see how this little one is doing," the technician said warmly. "Is this your first pregnancy?"

“Yes.”

"I understand you nearly had an accident earlier. Were you injured at all?"

You shook your head. "Not even a scratch."

"Your overall health appears good. Are you experiencing any discomfort? Abdominal pain?"

"No, none at all."

You looked at the screen intently as the ultrasound image adjusted in front of you, with the technician calibrating the magnification by making precise corrections to the equipment.

"Based on your test results, you're now in your sixth week of pregnancy. Here on the monitor, you can see the gestational sac—this dark circular area containing fluid."

Six weeks had passed since conception. And yet, each day without Morpheus ached as deeply as the first.

"Now, here we have a yolk sac, this smaller white-edged circle. This is what feeds the baby until the placenta is formed. And right beside the sac, we can clearly see the embryo. It measures approximately four millimeters."

You propped yourself up on your elbows. "Is that sweet pea-sized spot?"

She chuckled softly. "Yes, that's exactly right. This is your baby."

It was so small, just a minuscule flicker of life, a sweet promise of the future. There, before your eyes, was your child. His child.

You found yourself wondering about their future appearance, whether they would inherit Morpheus' distinctive features like his cerulean eyes and chiseled jawline, or if they would more closely resemble your mortal characteristics. As an anthropomorphic being, you had no idea how an Endless' DNA might work.

Your throat constricted, but you managed a gentle smile.

"Oh, wait! See that flickering? That's the very first visualization of the baby's heartbeat. It's like a rapid little rhythm, reaching up to 110 beats per minute."

“Isn’t that too fast?” you interjected.

"No, not at all. It's completely normal for the heartbeat to be this swift at this stage."

Your voice wavered. "So, the baby's fine, right?"

"Absolutely! The baby is developing wonderfully. Six weeks is an ideal time for a scan since we can now see the early development quite clearly."

The technician paused to capture several still images of the ultrasound from various angles, documenting the examination.

"I'm saving these digitally. Would you like a printed copy as well?"

Silent tears began streaming down your face as your fingers brushed against the embryo's image, each drop a reflection of your conflicting emotions. The irrepressible excitement intermingled with an acute sense of emptiness, creating a complex tapestry of feelings that was both overpowering and bittersweet.

"Yes," you responded weakly, your shoulders quivering. "Please."

In the waiting room, Hob paced back and forth, questioning his decision to persuade an outing you clearly had misgivings about. Had he exercised better judgment and ensured a timely return home rather than encouraging the impromptu performance, perhaps this additional source of stress could have been avoided in the first place.

Restless and seeking a distraction, he positioned himself against the wall, pulled out his phone, and initiated a call, anticipating a response on the other end.

“About bloody time you called me back, Gadling. I was starting to think you'd dropped off the face of the earth.”

"Yeah, sorry. Been a bit tied up with a spot of trouble here," he replied, casting a glance toward the ultrasound room.

"Trouble? You finally decided to retire and live like a normal person?”

He released a heavy sigh. “No, I’m at a hospital. Not for me."

After a pause, the woman spoke again. “Right, I’ll bite. Who’s it for?”

"A dear friend of mine. She's in there getting one of them fancy baby pictures done right now."

“A what?" She exhaled sharply. "Hang on—are you saying you knocked someone up?"

"God, no! It’s not mine."

"Whose kid is it then? Bit strange you're there playing nanny to some girl carrying another bloke's baby."

"Well, it might sound a bit mental," he answered. "You're not gonna believe this one."

"Go on then, give it your best shot."

He sat in one of the chairs, leaning back and stretching his legs. “It’s Dream’s.”

A moment of silence passed before she let out a violent curse. "You’re taking the piss."

“Cross my heart. She's carrying his baby. Though the big man's gone all broody and dramatic recently. Won't say more than that, not my tale to tell, yeah?”

There was another exhale, followed by the distinct sound of her taking a sip of her beverage. "Right then, let me sort this out: The bloody Sandman got himself tangled up with some poor woman, got her pregnant, and now she's left dealing with all his drama?"

"Not just some woman. She's proper special, this one. Got the kindest soul you'll ever meet."

"Bollocks. So what was all that screaming about earlier? People don't just go around wailing for no reason, do they?"

"Best leave that one be. Don’t concern yourself with it."

"Listen Gadling, I didn't ring you for a chat. There's something at work here, and I'm not talking about your typical demonic nonsense. This woman you’re mentioning, who is she?”

He rubbed his eyes wearily. "She’s not your problem, all right? And whatever crap you were going on about earlier, it has absolutely nothing to do with her."

"I can sense it's got your fingerprints all over it, even if you're not the one pulling the strings directly."

"What exactly are you getting at?"

"There's a disturbance in the fabric of reality. Whatever it is, it's big, and I've got no bloody idea if it's here to help or destroy us all."

Hob shook his head. “She’s not one of your evil entities toying with our heads. She’s human, just like you and me.”

"She's carrying a spawn of the Lord of Dreams. We both know that's not exactly ordinary, mate."

Growling, he snapped. “So what? Do you think this little one is turning bad? Don’t be ridiculous now. You’re just as unnerving as your ancestor, I swear.”

"If you think this is just me being paranoid, then you really don't know me at all."

He snorted. “Do I, really? The only reason why you’re so caught up with me is because I’m immortal. I never had a single business with your family, except the one time your distant relative attempted to coerce me and my friend in the middle of our drinks.”

He paused, rubbing the bridge of his nose in frustration. “Look, you met him yourself not long ago, didn't you? Sure, he's a bit mysterious and all that, but you know as well as I do he's not out to harm anyone. And this baby of his? It's no monster, I can tell you that much."

"Never said it was, did I? But there's something off about all this, something that stinks of you. And I'm going to find out exactly what it is, whether you like it or not."

"Right then. If you're thinking of causing any trouble for her, you'll have to get through me first, love. And I've had quite a few centuries of practice at being rather hard to break."

She chortled. "We'll see, bruv. Keep those eyes peeled if you know what's good for you."

Upon hearing the ultrasound room's door open and your voice nearing, he immediately jolted back to his feet. “Always, Constantine. Sorry, got to run now.”

And with that, he terminated the call, walking to you expectantly. Your eyes glistened with tears as you stared at the picture clutched between your hands, holding it as if it were the most precious thing in the world, as fragile as glass.

"Look," you whispered. "Can you believe how impossibly tiny it is?"

As you rested on the couch, a blanket draped across your lap, an unsettling thought overtook your mind. The Dreamstone, your primary source of protection, served as the critical safeguard that prevented a potentially fatal vehicular collision.

You had nearly left the house without it, exposing yourself to the inherent vulnerabilities of mortal existence. Had your intuition not alerted you to danger, what potentially devastating consequences might have befallen you and your unborn child?

Moreover, the Dream Lord was conspicuously out of reach even now.

The possibility of his complete ignorance seemed unlikely, which raised the question of whether he was deliberately keeping his distance regardless of any potential harm you might be subjected to. Considering his previous efforts to secure your happiness, albeit questionable, the notion that he would now stay indifferent seemed implausible. The activation of the Dreamstone would have undoubtedly registered in his awareness, making it impossible for such an event to have escaped his attention.

The pain cut deep, piercing you to your very core.

“Shit, we're fresh out of tea," Hob exclaimed, inspecting the empty cupboard.

Absentmindedly, you asked, “Are we?”

"Seems we've gone through the last of it yesterday. My fault entirely there, Shortcake. Didn't get round to popping out for more."

“Don’t worry about it.”

"We got a shop just 'round the corner, haven't we? I'll head down and fetch us some proper tea."

Your stomach churned. "I'd rather avoid any sort of convenience store for the next ten years, to say the least."

He gave an apologetic smile as he reached for his jacket. "Let me at least do this for you. Been around long enough to know you shouldn't be left unsatisfied after a night like this, yeah?"

You sighed. "Honestly, Hob, I'm fine. It's nearly 3 am."

"And you're still sitting there wide awake. Not to worry, I'll nip down and be back before you know it."

Gathering his wallet and the apartment’s keys, he ran out with determined haste. The door closed with a soft click, followed by the sound of the key turning in its lock, leaving the place enveloped in an oppressive silence.

Exhaustion had taken its toll, leaving you feeling physically and emotionally drained. As you sat there, you lifted the ultrasound image from the coffee table, gently tracing the outline of the small, bean-shaped form. Your lower lip trembled slightly, but you had no tears left to shed, at least for the rest of the night.

As Hob exited the elevator, fatigue evident in his steps, he couldn't erase the sight of you from his mind. Your vulnerable, distraught condition was something he couldn't bear to witness any longer—it was unbearable, heartrending, and you deserved all the happiness the world, if not the entire cosmos, could offer to someone as remarkable as you.

When the building's main entrance closed behind him, a movement caught his attention from the corner of his eye. A tall, dark figure stood before the structure, cutting an imposing silhouette with legs slightly apart and hands tucked into side pockets.

His ancient friend's distinctive visage was unmistakable in the dim streetlight, his penetrating gaze reflecting the ambient illumination that cast shadows across his countenance.

Intense anger blazed through Hob as Dream's eyes met his own, seemingly indecipherable. "You got some right nerve showing your face here now, don't you? Where've you been hiding all this time??"

Morpheus, who had once stormed away in rage and abandoned their centuries-old meeting tradition, now stood before Hob with the most devastated expression he had ever seen on the Lord of Dreams.

"You've got no bloody idea what that poor woman's been through."

"I assure you, I am quite aware," Morpheus replied.

"Are you now? Well mate, why don't you tell me what you're planning to do about it? Because it's looking pretty awful from where I'm standing."

Morpheus' head lowered, his Adam's apple bobbing.

"Shit. You look absolutely wrecked. What's the point of all this? You're just torturing her and yourself for no good reason."

"No good reason?" His deep voice resonated with a mix of pain and conviction. "Everything I have done was to protect her from harm."

"Yes, brilliant plan. Really working out splendidly, wouldn't you say?"

Once again, the Endless averted his gaze.

"You gonna sit back and watch her fall apart then? Just let her break herself to pieces while you lurk about in the shadows? What's the point of you even coming here if you're not gonna do anything about it?"

"You believe this brings me pleasure? This is far more intricate than you could possibly understand."

"Look, I get it. You found some fancy book of prophecies and now you're all worked up thinking she'll end up cursed or whatnot. But I've been alive long enough to know prophecies aren't always what they seem to be."

"I am doing everything in my power to find a solution, but I must be careful. One wrong move could unravel her entire existence."

Hob let out an exasperated sigh. "Can't you see that's exactly what you're doing? Us humans might need time to heal and all that, but you and I both know bloody well some scars never fade."

Hob raised his hand and pointed upward, indicating the direction of your apartment. "There's this amazing woman up there who's head over heels for you. She needs you right now more than she's ever needed you since the day you met, ‘cause she's—"

He abruptly ceased speaking, composed himself and cleared his throat, running a hand through his hair. "We've all got our own paths to walk, don't we? We live, we choose, we think, and sometimes life throws us a right curveball. Sure, she might not have another close shave like this one - really hope not - but there's always other ways people can get themselves into trouble. That's just life, not your doing at all."

Morpheus inhaled silently, closing his eyes. “You speak truly, but this is more than just me, her, or you.”

"So what, you wait 'til she goes off and marries someone else? She's never gonna love any other bloke like she loves you. In fact, I'd bet my left arm she's not gonna fancy anyone else at all. Trust me on this one."

Morpheus attempted to speak but found himself unable to form words. His eyes flickered momentarily, revealing a noticeable redness, visible even in the darkness.

"Come off it now. Can't all be for nothing, can it? You're absolutely mad for her. Why else would you be standin' here lookin’ like someone's kicked your puppy?"

His voice emerged with quiet clarity. "She is my heart, my universe. The very essence of who I am. That is immutable."

"Then let her be your everything. Let her stand by your side and fight together. I don't know what this fucking book is or what sort of evil omen it's got in it, but how can this be better when I see her crumbling every single day? She's cryin' all hours. You should hear her at night, whispering your name in her sleep, or even upon waking."

Dream turned his head, observing the building with contemplative silence. In that moment, Hob could see that he was just as broken—perhaps even more tormented inside—than you could ever be.

He had evolved significantly from the entity who once wagered on Hob's immortality in 1389 and always returned for their centennial meetings to validate his hypothesis about the desire to live. He had transformed beyond his former self, who once reacted with hostility at suggestions of requiring friendship, now embracing emotional openness.

With a final sigh, Hob concluded, "Look, not to be rude, but I best be off. Just do me a favor, yeah? Stop being such an idiot about all this and be her man. Or... whatever the hell you are."

Without awaiting a response, Hob turned and strode away, not wanting to leave you unattended after such a precarious evening that had put both you and your child at risk. But before he could distance himself from the building, Morpheus' voice resonated through the night air, calling his name.

“Hob.”

The man halted and swiveled on his feet, regarding the King of Dreams with deliberate scrutiny.

"Your loyalty to Y/N in my absence has been admirable. Without being asked, you have become her guardian in my stead. For that, you have my gratitude."

"Don't bother with thanks, I do it because I care. If you really want to make it up to me, just do as I said. And love her proper-like, she well deserves it."

Morpheus responded with a subtle nod, yet its significance conveyed a depth of understanding that surpassed mere verbal communication.

This acknowledgment was sufficient validation for Hob's concerns, who offered a satisfied smile before continuing his journey to the store. Dream silently vanished into the darkness of the empty street, leaving behind an imperceptible trail of particles that drifted upward, permeating through your window.

By this time, you had drifted into slumber on the couch, your head gently resting to one side as your grip loosened on the ultrasound image, allowing it to settle onto your lap.

A luminous blue mist descended around you, drifting like gossamer fabric through the air. The atmosphere was rich with an intoxicating blend of sandalwood, white musk, and delicate hints of vanilla.

Through the haze, a solitary crib shaped in your line of sight, positioned centrally amidst spiraling tendrils of dreamlike vapor. Though silence pervaded the scene, subtle movements stirred beneath the blanket within. Curious, you continued forward until you stood before the cradle, your heartbeat resonating through the stillness with a rhythmic, anticipatory cadence.

Inside the crib, an infant lay obscured from view, its features veiled in darkness. With careful movements, you extended your hand toward the blanket, intending to reveal what lay beneath. However, as your fingers made contact with the soft fabric, the entire cradle dissipated into nothingness, leaving your hand suspended in empty, cold air.

Momentarily disoriented, you found yourself transported as the scenery brightened and warmed. The familiar rows of books came into focus, accompanied by the soothing sounds of the library - the scratching of a pen and the whispered rustle of turning pages.

Exhaling, you traversed the corridor that had become a nightly ritual, emerging into the central chamber where Lucienne maintained her desk. The distinguished librarian was seated at her position, examining documents and making annotations with her quill. With her spectacles positioned on her nose and her evident concentration on the task at hand, you considered discretely proceeding elsewhere to avoid disturbing her work.

As expected, though, she soon detected your presence. "Ah, welcome back! How good to see you."

"Likewise, Lucienne. Always a pleasure."

"Please, do have a seat," she said warmly.

Taking out one of the adjacent chairs, you sank into the cushion, instinctively resting your hands protectively over your midsection.

Setting her quill aside and folding her hands over her open tome, Lucienne's smile faltered slightly. "I have some rather interesting news to share. Perhaps we should start with the more... pressing matters first?"

"Please tell me you found something promising. I desperately need it after tonight.”

"Wait, are you all right?" she inquired with her characteristic formality and warmth.

"Yes. Just... tell me what you've got."

“Very well. The good news is that Lord Morpheus has finally come around. He's asked me to assist him in locating the Book of Paradoxes. I assumed he might still have possession of it, as I was unable to find it in our archives. But it seems he quietly returned it to the library just last week.”

“Oh.”

"The book is still present within these walls," she stated matter-of-factly while adjusting her glasses. "According to his lordship, he can not only sense its presence, but hear its call."

"Does the book literally speak, or are you being metaphorical?"

"No metaphor. It would appear that this book has the rather extraordinary ability to whisper."

The book could whisper...

The mysterious echoes that had guided you through the library's labyrinthine passages now took on new significance. Was it possible that the Book of Paradoxes had been attempting to communicate with you in the same manner it did with Morpheus?

You had dismissed those whispers as mere psychological manifestations, attributing them to stress and emotional turmoil. In retrospect, had you given proper consideration to these signals, the current circumstances might have played out quite differently.

Still, such guessess remained purely speculative, as the source of these whispers could not be attributed to the book's influence without conclusive proof.

"Unfortunately, we've hit something of a snag. I've been combing through every tome and reference material at my disposal, even delving into the most archaic texts we have. But this particular volume seems to have developed quite the talent for evasion. Rather sporting of it, really."

"Of course it can't be easy, right?"

She smiled. "I have full confidence that its attempts at concealment will prove ultimately futile. This is The Dreaming. His castle, his rules."

"But this doesn't make sense,” you said. “If he already returned the book, why would he be searching for it now?"

Lucienne pursed her lips as her eyes dropped. "About that... there is another matter we should discuss."

"Wonderful," you grunted. "What else is there now?"

She looked at you intently, measuring her words with care. "I must tell you that his lordship is now informed."

The implications of her statement failed to immediately register in your mind. “Informed?”

"Y/N... he knows about the child," she confessed, her voice carrying both kindness and concern.

The news landed with devastating finality. Even though you were asleep, your physiological response was unexpectedly severe: your extremities grew cold as circulation redirected to vital organs, and your vision blurred as your body struggled to process the inevitable development.

“He does…?”

"I didn't breathe a word. He figured it out himself, really. Like I said, it was quite inescapable.”

“Right.”

"I understand you wished to tell him personally, but in truth, this rather alters the entire equation, doesn't it?"

Your hands tightened over your legs as your throat constricted. "This doesn't change anything, Lucienne. On the contrary, it's making everything worse."

"How do you mean?"

“If he knows, then why the hell hasn't he come to me yet?"

“I—”

"I'm going through hell, Luce. All I want is to have the one I love by my side—the father of my child! Where is he? Why must I endure all this alone?"

"This is precisely why he seeks to consult the book once more. Upon learning of your condition, his priorities have changed. He wants to be present, both for you and the child, but he must first ensure with absolute certainty that he won't endanger either of your lives, regardless of what forces may be at play."

You laughed bitterly, the sound hollow and joyless. "How ironic, considering I nearly had a serious accident tonight.”

“What…?”

“Are you telling me he didn't know? That he hasn't noticed? Lucienne, I need to meet with him right now. If he refuses to speak to me, I'll find him myself."

“Wait—”

Rising decisively from your seat, you strode purposefully toward the library's main entrance, knowing it would lead directly to the throne room. You marched forward with unbridled fury, radiating with each step, unsure whether the library would guide you to your intended destination.

"Y/N, I implore you to heed my words!" Lucienne called out.

When you turned to face the librarian, your eyes emanated a brilliant golden light, causing her to falter momentarily in astonishment.

"It's been weeks, and I'm living each day in complete uncertainty about what lies ahead."

"I do understand. But I need to ask you to be patient with him for just a little while longer.”

"How much longer should I wait? Are you suggesting I just twiddle my thumbs until the baby arrives?"

“Of course not. Right now, you and that child are the most important things in all the realms to him. And I can assure you that he loves you more than anything."

You released a trembling breath. "He has a strange way of showing it."

"We could face all this together. Why is he avoiding me?"

"While I wouldn't presume to know the precise reason, I can quite say he finds himself utterly paralyzed by shame at the thought of facing you."

Your shoulders slumped in defeat as your heart cracked like thin glass. “What am I supposed to do?”

"All we need is a touch more patience while we locate that book. Once we do, I assure you both shall have the clarity you seek."

“It hurts so much, Luce.”

"I know. But trust that you will not have to bear this burden alone for much longer."

Could you truly place your faith in her promises that the book would provide new insights and revelations? The prospect of remaining silent while Morpheus struggled fruitlessly to decipher the tome seemed increasingly difficult to accept.

Nevertheless, facing this pregnancy without his presence and support was not a viable option worth entertaining.

With a resigned nod, you agreed. "Fine, I'll wait."

Lucienne's expression softened with visible relief as your eyes gradually returned to their natural hue. She observed them thoughtfully, mesmerized by their appearance, while you remained unaware of the metamorphosis.

"Yo Lucienne, you in here somewhere?"

The distinct voice of Mervyn, the Pumpkinhead custodian, resonated through the library stacks as he approached your location.

"Well, if it ain’t the lady of the Dreaming herself. Didn't mean to butt in on your little powwow here," he quipped upon seeing you. “And look at you, growing the next heir to the throne. Congrats, kid.”

"Mervyn," Lucienne admonished.

"What? I'm just stating the obvious here. Can't a working man congratulate somebody without getting the stink eye?"

"Is that a polite way of saying I'm starting to look fat?" you asked with a playful grin.

"Nah, see, that ain't what I meant at all. Jeez, you try to say something nice and look what happens. I was just—"

"Relax, Mervyn. I'm only teasing. It's good to see you, really."

Clearing his throat, he crossed his bony arms across his chest. "Yeah yeah, nice seein’ ya too, toots. Just don’t tell the boss I’m getting all sentimental. So, what’s cooking in the library today?”

"I assume you’re not here for reading material?” Lucienne prompted.

"Eh, Just making my rounds, you know? Checking if any of them wacky dream-things are causing trouble. We ain't got another one of them walking teacups running around, do we? Last thing I need is more overtime cleaning up that mess."

Lucienne gave a measured nod. “Nothing too unusual, aside from a flock of dream-doves turning into riddles mid-flight. They’ve been rather cryptic lately.”

Merv huffed. “Dream logic, I swear. One day I’m fixing cobblestone roads, the next, I’m chasing poetic birds. Ain’t dull, I’ll give you that.”

You smiled. The Dreaming surely wouldn’t be the same without its quirks.

“It’s better than it was, but not what it should be. Not without… you know.” He gestured vaguely, avoiding the words you all knew hung heavy in the air.

"Before I forget, got something rattling around in this pumpkin head of mine. You got a minute to hear me out or what?"

“Sure.”

While they returned to the main table to discuss the ongoing renovations of the Dreaming, you didn’t move, your earlier expression of levity gradually dissolving. Your focus began to waver as visual distortions flickered throughout the library, objects warping and disappearing from view.

To remain grounded in the dream realm, you steadied yourself against a bookshelf, allowing your fingers to trace the tangible texture of a book's spine. The powerful pull of consciousness threatened to draw you back to the Waking World, until a faint whisper echoed from between the rows of books, keeping you rooted on the spot.

Your name was carried on a haunting voice, one that resonated with an unsettling urgency.

"ʸ/ᴺ…”

Neither Lucienne nor Mervyn appeared to notice the sound, their discussion proceeding without interruption.

"ʸ/ᴺ!”

With heightened awareness, your mind fully realigned with your dream form, restoring its complete autonomy. Cautiously, you retreated through the towering shelves of books, scanning your surroundings to determine the source of the whisper.

"ʸ/ᴺ, "ʸ/ᴺ!”

You navigated through the library's passages anew, following the echoing sounds that bounced between corridors and walls.

“Where are you?” You called out, but the mysterious voice continued to repeat your name from all directions throughout the library.

The situation was disconcerting, but this time, you were intent on pursuing the beckoning.

You navigated the winding pathways, encountering numerous dead ends again and experiencing a growing sense of disorientation as the destination remained perpetually out of reach. You groaned loudly, resting against one of the spiraling staircases, frustrated by this seemingly endless chase.

Suddenly, as you were about to throw in the towel and call it quits, your right hand began emitting a golden glow, causing your skin to become partially translucent, as if you were cradling a bright orb.

Examining the phenomenon, you frowned as your palm created a thread that traced a shimmering line across the library floor. Like Ariadne's thread in Greek mythology, this golden trail served as your beacon, though instead of leading you out of a maze, it seemed to be drawing you deeper into the heart of your questions.

And so, driven by the new path ahead, you navigated along every twist and turn, as it wove through the arrangement of bookshelves in an intricate pattern that followed no discernible logic. Your pace quickened as your pulse thundered within your chest, while the energy steadily ascended towards your elbow.

It felt like something from a fairytale—like Sarah traversing the Labyrinth to reach the Goblin King's castle through its ever-shifting maze. Yet here you were, already within these castle walls, your heart willingly surrendered to its ruler, hopelessly in love.

As you progressed deeper into the library, the voice grew increasingly pronounced. The golden light extending from your hand intensified, ultimately suffusing the entire aisle in its radiance. Then, you began to run.

Your movements were encumbered by the strange physics of dream-running, where each step required particular effort. Though the surroundings seemed to transmute and resist your advancement, you kept a firm grip on the luminescent thread, using it to propel yourself forward like an anchor line through the magical space.

And then, at last, your journey reached its end.

The shelves parted to reveal a darkened chamber. At its center stood an ancient wooden pedestal, upon which rested a black tome. Mysterious voices converged around it, their words merging into an indecipherable whispered chorus.

As you entered the room, you half-expected the shelves to seal shut behind you. When no such event transpired, you crept toward the pedestal, clutching the Dreamstone in your hand. Moving closer, your light started to fade, converging into an intricate sigil beneath the tome, one you could not recognize.

Before your eyes, the name of the book appeared on the subsequent page, causing your breath to catch in your throat.

Right before your eyes lay the enigmatic tome - the very book of prophetic riddles whose discovery had led to this rift between you and Morpheus, and whose contents had cast such uncertainty over the Dreaming itself.

"At last, we meet," you announced bitterly. "You've caused quite a lot of trouble, you know that?"

In response, the tome emitted what could only be described as an elongated exhalation, an icy breath caressing your face.

"I don't know what you are or why you appeared here. And frankly, I don't care. What I do know is that you must fix what you've broken, or I swear I'll reduce you to ashes with my own hands."

Your curiosity regarding the book’s contents was quite pressing, but your apprehension about what lurked within its pages prevented you from proceeding further.

"Come now, up you go."

Carefully and partially intimidated, you lifted the volume from the pedestal and secured it firmly against your chest. The tome remained silent, as if acquiescing to your authority, its previous mystifying aura now surrendering to your grasp like a child who had just been scolded by their mother.

As you departed the chamber, the path back proved particularly straightforward, as though the previous journey had been merely an illusion. Within moments, you found yourself back at your original position—with no twisting passageways or dead ends—to find Lucienne stationed alone at her desk.

“Luce?”

"Ah, you're still here. I presumed you had returned to waking."

"I was about to, for a moment, but... something caught my attention."

"I see you've discovered a new volume?”

You set the tome upon the table, its obsidian cover absorbing the surrounding light like liquid darkness. "Actually, I think this belongs with you rather than me."

“Oh?”

Lucienne examined the cover, her brows furrowing as she studied its binding. "Curious, it bears no title. I don’t recognize this specific book.”

“It is inside.”

With your assistance, Lucienne carefully opened the book, her composed expression switching to one of amazement as she beheld the elegant vintage script. Her expression transformed into one of pure shock as she turned to meet your gaze, a silent question forming on her lips.

"You found it..." She breathed.

"I don't even know how to explain this," you murmured with a small shrug. "Rather, I'd say the book found me."

Lucienne placed a reassuring hand on your arm, her spectacles catching the light of the library as she regarded you with quiet approval. "You truly are proving yourself to be quite the capable Lady of the Dreaming," she stated with quiet pride.

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