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loaksky · 2 years

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— 𝘸𝘢𝘳𝘮 𝘩𝘢𝘯𝘥𝘴

the lowdown — the one where neteyam is shackled by appearances, but you couldn’t care less.

the who — neteyam x fem omatikaya!reader

the word count — 2.2k

the tags & warnings — language ,, misunderstandings (i love this trope and this is a hill i’ll die on i’m SORRY) ,, neteyam’s friends can be shitty, but mean well ,, reader just wants to love up on her boy :(

the notes — based off of this request! this is another addition to my neteyam content, but ik some of you guys are itching for some other characters, so i'm probably gonna steer in another direction & write for kiri & tsireya so if that interests you, stay tuned! <3

(not proofread well lmao)

masterlist

Neteyam is many things; a kind spirit, a fierce warrior, a loving brother, a diligent son. But Neteyam is also new to love. Not quite new to being in love, but learning the act of loving you.

He’d found so many ways to express his heart’s desire; written notes on scraps, gentle smiles, searing eyes. It was one thing in particular, though, that made his mouth dry, made his brain nearly short circuit, and it was your need to be in his space.

Even after many days that bleed into weeks and meld into months, you make his cheeks warm with every lingering pass of your fingertips, make his stomach knot with every fluttering kiss to his skin.

It’d been a pleasant surprise at first, but now it was a need, an absolute necessity to have you fused to him like a second skin. Your touch was a tacit word and he was learning to speak your language.

The two of you together was normalcy and the clan members were more than delighted to know that the olo’eyktan’s son was lucky in love. But there were teasing whispers, lilting voices in the background that made something uncomfortable pinch the back of his brain.

His skin would light up with equal parts want and embarrassment when you’d hang loosely around him during evening meals and the villagers his age would giggle and murmur behind their palms about the two of you. Didn’t help that you were an oblivious thing, or maybe you didn’t care, when you’d hold his hand in your own, occasionally bringing his fingertips to your lips during casual conversation.

And he didn’t mind loving you endlessly when you were just two souls enjoying each other, but he can’t help but tense when his eyes wander and he sees watchful gazes.

“Mighty warrior is a needy one, huh?”

His friends, comrades since childhood, surround him on a sunny afternoon. Neteyam pauses his actions, arrow in the midst of a sharpening.

His spine goes rigid and his eyes narrow.

“What are you on about?” he asks, jaw locking.

“Even in the moments you aren’t with her, you’re thinking about her,” his friend Marin says with a shiteating grin.

“Don’t even,” Neteyam warns, eyes rolling as he continues with sharpening his arrows.

“Oh, come on,” another one of his friends guffaws, twining a new bow string. “You haven’t said a word since we sat down.”

And he wishes he could form a solid argument, but you are on his mind, all-consuming as always. Can’t help it when he’s pined after you for years and only recently found the courage to act on his heart.

“Maybe I just don’t want to engage with you assholes,” Neteyam bites, fist tightening around his dagger.

“Yeah, because if you open your mouth, all you’ll be able to talk about is my girl this and my girl that,” Marin teases. “Who knew future olo’eyktan was so clingy.”

“Yeah, like it’s me who’s clingy,” he grunts, resuming the task at hand with much more fervor.

“Is it not?” Marin challenges. “Oh, ________, my love, look at these flowers I picked for you.”

The blood is rushing to his ears as his friends howl with laughter.

“Syulang, I wrote you twelve pages declaring my love even though we’ve seen each other thrice since last eclipse.” The taunting makes him seethe, makes the feeling of discomfort surface all over again and the words are spilling before he can plug the dam.

“Of course it’s not me,” Neteyam scoffs. “I keep my composure, but it’s her that insists on constantly reminding the village that we’re together. If I had it my way, nothing would have changed from when we were friends.”

It’s a lie and he knows it, his friends know it. But you, you who staggers outside of the training circle at the sound of multiple voices don’t know it.

It’s like a swift strike to the gut, one that squashes every butterfly that tickled the lining of your stomach on your way to fetch the very man who’d held your heart and crushed it all the same.

Your satchel, heavy with fruits and snacks for after your evening swim with Neteyam, weighs heavy across your front as you debate whether or not you should be listening to a conversation that is obviously not meant for your ear. But it’s like you’re rooted to the soil beneath you.

“Yeah, okay,” Marin chuffs, obviously not convinced. “If you’re so bothered by your dynamic now, there isn’t any reason why you wouldn’t say anything. She’s your second skin and you love it.”

He does, he thinks to himself.

Of course he doesn’t, you realize, horrified, the thousand and one times your hands would find his body and he’d tense or shy away replaying like a horror reel in your brain.

“I potentially hold the future of this clan in my hands,” Neteyam says. “It is my duty to endure all things whether or not I enjoy it.”

It’s like you’re doused with water so cold at the violent shiver that shakes your spine.

Just another thing to endure, you mull over in your brain as the barge of emotions brims dangerously near the surface.

You break from the edge of the clearing and you’re off.

Something is off.

And Neteyam is ashamed to admit that it takes him obnoxiously long to notice. Maybe it’s because he’s caught up in his duties, or maybe for once in his life, he isn’t worrying about meddlesome gazing, but the shift is imperceptible.

You’re still you, so aching beautiful and devastatingly radiant, but something is different. He doesn’t pinpoint it until he’s bidding you a farewell, leaning into your space to plant a kiss on your lips when you ease away to beam at him nervously instead.

His brows furrow when you wave, breaking away from him to scurry home.

He thinks it’s a one off, something he shouldn’t read too much into, but he can’t help it. Not when he’s so used to your touch, so used to feeling the pads of your fingers denting his skin and the scald of your lips.

He tries again a few nights later, after finally getting you alone. He’d been busy assisting his father in planning a raid at the end of the month and you were busy trying to put as much distance between the two of you.

“You’re awfully quiet, bug,” Neteyam observes softly, chin dipping under the water as he swims closer to where you float on the surface, eyes closed.

You only hum, pleading silently that he’ll let it pass. But when his fingers skim your navel, you’re jerking away from him, settling so that a berth of glittering blue separates the two of you.

He forces a laugh, wading closer to you as you seemingly shrink.

“What’s wrong?” he asks when he sees something like discomfort flitting over your expression, concern eclipsing his features as he reaches forward to grab you by your arm.

“Nothing…” you swallow, staring at the rounded stones beaded through the necklace you made him early on in your budding relationship.

He doesn’t buy it, tilting your chin up with deft fingers.

“Hey, hey,” he says softly, searching your face for a tell. “Talk to me.”

“Nothing,” you breathe, peeling away from him to wade back towards the embankment. “It’s nothing.”

He watches as you hoist yourself up from the river, heart in his throat.

He cracks when the others seem to notice, slowly catching onto the fact that the usually doting and loving partner of the olo’eyktan’s son is surprisingly distant. It’s during an evening meal, villagers surrounding the multiple fires, when it comes to a head.

There’s an unusual space between your bodies as you chat with Kiri and a few others and he can’t help but close the gap as something akin to desperation washes over him. His fingers brush the span of your shoulders to pull you into his chest, lips a hairsbreadth from your temple before your palm snakes between your bodies and plants on his chest to nudge him away.

He bites the inside of his cheek in annoyance as Marin and his other friends share knowing glances.

While he boils silently, you ache to tell him that you don’t mean it, that there’s nothing more you’d want than to spend every waking moment in his arms, but that day in the clearing is a humiliating reminder that Neteyam is shackled to his honor and if it means making you happy despite his discomfort, he’d endure it all.

You hate it, hate that he’d let you feel like things were alright leading up to this moment, that he’d suffer at the expense of mocking and badgering from his friends. Makes you feel embarrassed, sorry, that you’d read the two of you all wrong.

You feel his fingers inching towards yours, pinkie overlapping with yours. Your hands involuntarily close into fists and that’s all it takes for Neteyam to shoot up from his perch on the log and take you by the elbow.

There’s a hush as his friends and yours watch the two of you part ways with the group, the nearly feral look in their leader’s son suggestively mistaken.

“Why won’t you touch me?” Neteyam asks fiercely, once enough distance lies between the two of you and the rest of the clan.

His words make your cheeks warm, but he looks troubled, hurt.

“I-”

“Did I do something to disgust you? Did I…”

His words melt into the background as you watch him with teary eyes.

“You don’t have to pretend with me, Teyam,” you whisper. “You can tell me the truth. I’m a big girl.”

“What are you talking about?” he asks, frustrated. “You’re the one hiding something. These past few weeks I’ve been trying to be with you, trying to love you and you keep pushing me away.”

A twinge of annoyance erupts in the pit of your belly as you frown.

“That’s rich coming from you,” you murmur hoarsely.

“I’m so lost right now, ________,” he admits desperately. “We were fine, everything was great, and suddenly I feel like I’m losing you. Did I do something? Are you–”

“Just be honest with me!” you cry out. “Why do you have to put on this front all the time? It’s just me, Neteyam! If I overwhelm you, if I embarrass you, just say it! It hurts worse when you act like it’s nothing.”

And Christ, his friends were right. He is needy. Because you’re not a want but a lifeline. A dire necessity that he feels the need to cling to in this moment. This feels a lot like you two are splintering, and he’s about to open his mouth to ask what would compel you to say such a thing, but then it clicks.

The final piece of the puzzle that he’d been agonizing over falls into place and his eyes are widening.

“No,” he says vehemently. “That wasn’t–”

“Is it not?” you cut him off as you dash the threatening tears away.

“God, no,” he breathes. “I was– They were…”

You watch him with wet lashes and his heart aches as he takes the leap and pulls you into his chest with a shuddering breath.

“I’m so stupid.” His chest rumbles as your ear presses to his heart, arms winding tightly around your figure to buoy you to place. “Fuck.”

You hiccup and his hand cradles your head, peppering kisses against your hair as he sways your bodies like it’ll disorient the miscommunication and send it spiraling away.

“I’m sorry,” you whimper. “I didn’t mean to be embarrassing. I–”

“No, no, bug,” he swallows, hugging you so tight, you struggle to suck a breath into your lungs. “You’re not, I promise. I could never be embarrassed by you.”

You shudder so hard his grip loosens, parting with you to cup your flushed cheeks in his hands.

“They were ripping me a new one,” he says shakily. “Told me I was needy, clingy, and I was embarrassed because they’re right.”

Your throat bobs and Neteyam’s thumb brushes over the apple of your cheeks.

“You make me so weak, you don’t even understand,” he laughs humorlessly, body wracked with nerves, with want, with need. “I said it to save face because I never know what to do with myself around you.”

“You—”

“And I know it was wrong, talking out of my ass to get them to shut the fuck up,” his language is a crass reminder that he’s a former marine’s son, “but I don’t think I’ll ever get used to being yours.”

Yours.

It’s a sound declaration, one that makes you crumple like a baby because you’ve missed your person, and Neteyam hugs you close again.

“I’m sorry I’m so clueless sometimes, bug,” he whispers, cheek nuzzling the top of your head. “Love you more than anything, I mean it.”

You hiccup again.

“Love you, too, stupid” you mumble, arms wrapping around the narrow of his waist.

It’s your first meaningful touch in weeks and Neteyam melts under the heat of your body, under the heat of your warm hands.

taglist; @nao-cchi , @jkiminpark , @philiasoul @amart-e , @s-u-t , @netesbby , @tayswiftlovebot , @dumb-fawkin-bitch , @ewackmn , @fanboyluvr , @neteyamoa , @itssiaaax , @girlpostingsposts , @athenachu

#neteyam drabble #neteyam fic #neteyam x reader #neteyam sully #neteyam #avatar way of water #avatar #avatar the movie #avatar the way of water #atwow

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goodnightmemes · 2 months

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HOUSE OF THE DRAGON SEASON TWO SENTENCE STARTERS

❛ Duty is sacrifice. It eclipses all things, even blood. All men of honor must pay its price.

❛ War is coming, to the whole of the realm.❜

❛ I am indebted to you. ❜

❛ I'm afraid. ❜

❛ We should've just killed her when we had the chance. ❜

❛ When the king speaks, Your Grace, all hear it. ❜

❛ I find myself wondering...do we pursue the same end? ❜

❛ You must accept that the path to victory now is one of violence. ❜

❛ Did you think I would wither in your absence? ❜

❛ You only blame me because your true enemies are out of reach. ❜

❛ She holds love for our enemy. That makes her a fool. ❜

❛ I promise you, you will have all the vengeance that you seek, but you must keep a grip on your impulses. ❜

❛ Do anything but what I ask, and I'll bleed the whole lot of ya. ❜

❛ The gods punish us. They punish me. ❜

❛ This is not the time for blind accusations. We'll know who did this soon enough. ❜

❛ I will not be seen as weak. ❜

❛ Sometimes, we have to pretend. ❜

❛ I cannot trust you. I've never trusted you, wholly, much though I wished to, willed myself to. But now I have seen that your heart belongs only to you. ❜

❛ You think me some kind of monster. ❜

❛ You're pathetic. ❜

❛ We can afford no further mistakes. ❜

❛ You are mad. Mad! You cannot think that I did this! ❜

❛ You would send me to my death. ❜

❛ I would remind you only that when princes lose their temper, it is often others who suffer. ❜

❛ I see all your great adventures have done nothing for your looks. ❜

❛ For too long, I made it my aim to be of consequence. But now, I see that was the wish of a child. ❜

❛ I wish to spill blood, not ink! ❜

❛ Instead of judgment, you display impetuousness, and diminish us in the eyes of our enemy! ❜

❛ Fuck dignity! I want revenge. ❜

❛ They wish now not for the good of the realm, but for the petty satisfaction of vengeance. ❜

❛ Soon they will not even remember what it was that began the war in the first place. ❜

❛ There is no war so hateful to the gods as a war between kin. ❜

❛ I'm as fearsome as any of them. ❜

❛ You showed me grace when you could have withheld it. I'm not often surprised. ❜

❛ I cannot promise to make you happy. But I ask you: make this sacrifice willingly, for all of us. ❜

❛ If you've not yet surmised, you are welcome here. ❜

❛ Sin begets sin begets sin. ❜

❛ If dragons begin fighting dragons, we invite our own destruction. ❜

❛ Do not coddle me. Grant me at least that dignity. ❜

❛ Sadness is a condition of motherhood. ❜

❛ You have as much claim to grief as anyone. ❜

❛ Tales take on a life of their own, like weeds. Unless they are tended. ❜

❛ Always coming and going, aren't you? And I have to clean up afterwards. ❜

❛ You will die in this place. ❜

❛ I have been, at times, unkind, but never untrue. ❜

❛ You must go before you are discovered. ❜

❛ Your mother must've been very beautiful. ❜

❛ You should've burned them when you had the chance. ❜

❛ Is there no honor left in this world? ❜

❛ This is a better death than a traitor deserves. You should thank me for it. ❜

❛ I will not be made to look a fool in front of my allies and enemies. ❜

❛ I believe it is a sin to deny your appetites. They are what make us fully alive as mortal men. ❜

❛ If I may be so bold, you have not seemed yourself of late. ❜

❛ I've barely had the hours to grieve one tragedy before suffering the next. ❜

❛ I've come to know the face of tortured rest well enough. ❜

❛ Do you think simply wearing the crown imbues you with wisdom? ❜

❛ You have no idea the sacrifices that were made to put you on that throne. ❜

❛ What would you have me do? ❜

❛ Do simply what is needed of you: nothing. ❜

❛ Where have you been, these last days? You vanished without so much as a word.❜

❛ There are those who have mistaken my caution for weakness. Let that be their undoing. ❜

❛ If you die, all is lost. ❜

❛ The horrors I have just loosed cannot be for a crown alone. ❜

❛ Do you take issue with me? ❜

❛ I can sit still no longer. I must act. ❜

❛ I did not think they would be so eager to die. ❜

❛ I need them alive. I came here to raise swords, not corpses. ❜

❛ Will you goad me? When your bread and shelter now depend on my pleasure? ❜

❛ I mislike feeling powerless. ❜

❛ I do not know my part. The path I walk has never been trod. ❜

❛ What you cannot do, let others do for you. ❜

❛ There is more than one way to fight a war. ❜

❛ I do not wish to stand alone. ❜

❛ Has your loyalty faded? Or does it flourish only at night and flee the sunrise like a moth? ❜

❛ What we must do now is... terrible. ❜

❛ This is not war. These are crimes against the innocent, that any upright man would repudiate. ❜

❛ And once again, in the name of power, it's the weak and the women who must endure. ❜

❛ Was it worth the price? ❜

❛ I caution you, boldness is one thing, but overconfidence… ❜

❛ You have the impetuousness of youth, and its arrogance, neither of which is to be desired in a king. ❜

❛ Have the indignities of your childhood not yet sufficiently been avenged? ❜

❛ To claim a dragon, you must also be prepared to die. ❜

❛ You can't possibly still be angry about this. ❜

❛ You weren't going to bid me farewell? ❜

❛ It is your way, is it not? When something does not please you, you run. ❜

❛ There are older things in this world than you or I, or living memory. ❜

❛ You are not the player, but a piece on the board. As am I, for that matter. ❜

❛ It is my fault, I think, that you have forgotten to fear me. ❜

❛ It was worth the risk, no matter the outcome. ❜

❛ The enemy without may be fought with swords. The enemy within is more insidious. ❜

❛ Do you take me for a fool? ❜

❛ Oh, you make an art of provoking me. ❜

❛ Stop wasting your life waiting for something that'll never come. ❜

❛ I'm sure you did your best. ❜

❛ They will underestimate you, and this will be your advantage. ❜

❛ If the gods call me to greater things, who am I to refuse them? ❜

❛ Nothing is clean here. ❜

❛ The order of things has changed. Why not embrace it? ❜

❛ It does seem to me that you've made rather a mess here. ❜

❛ I don't need their love. I need their swords. ❜

❛ Mind your tongue. ❜

❛ I mislike all of this. ❜

❛ It seems you need us more than we need you. ❜

❛ So, what was the fucking point in all this then? ❜

❛ It's best to live, I think. However you do it. ❜

❛ You are not alone. ❜

❛ Will you prepare to face such an enemy? Or will you stay here and make yourself easy? ❜

❛ If you hinder our efforts through sloth or unreadiness, I will see you hanged, and your body fed to the dogs in the street. ❜

❛ You've arrived just in time to see my new army. What do you think of it? ❜

❛ This place will have you barking at the moon. ❜

❛ We must all make our sacrifices. ❜

❛ 'Tis no longer our rule that is threatened, our very lives. ❜

❛ Perhaps all men are corrupt and true honor is a mist that melts in the morning. ❜

❛ The dragons dance, and men are like dust under their feet. ❜

❛ We march now toward our annihilation. ❜

❛ There will be time enough to see which one of us is a coward. ❜

❛ There are omens here for those who seek them. ❜

❛ It's all a story and you are but one part in it. You know your part. ❜

❛ I am meant to serve you, and all of these with me, until death or the end of our story. ❜

❛ Be strong. You know you are just. ❜

❛ History will paint you a villain. ❜

❛ I am at last myself, with no ambition greater than to walk where I please and to breathe the open air. To die unremarked and unnoticed and be free. ❜

❛ You speak as if from a distant dream. ❜

❛ Come with me. ❜

❛ My part is here, whether I will or no. It was decided for me long ago. ❜

#rp meme #sentence starters #rp sentence meme #sentence meme #rp prompt #inbox memes #roleplay prompts #roleplay meme #sentence starter meme #rp memes #rp prompts #royalty meme #royalty prompt #period drama meme #*tv #*hotd

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thoughtsfromlayla · 1 month

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Chapter Five - Ostensible

Summary: Truth comes to light between the hushed whispers of destined lovers. Friends emerge in the oddest of places and flowers bloom in place of words.

Notes: ~9k words, holy fuck. Sorry this took so long, I realized that it's been literal months since I updated this story.

Warnings/Tags: Gault's funeral, Reader is slapping bitches as they should.

Tag list is open, just let me know :)

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Ostensible (adj.) - stated or appearing to be true, but not necessarily so

Morpheus brings you to his chest as your scream turns into buzzing breaths and you’re trying to gulp down your unrelenting fear. You push against his hold weakly, the fabric of his jacket seemingly too rough against your inflamed skin.

“How—how could you do—do that?” You scream at him through hiccups. You feel your eyes start to sting as the prickling tears start to emerge from your eyes. “I trusted you… I trusted you!”

“I fought justice with justice,” your husband answers simply.

His response angers you in return. What is his definition of justice if he killed a person without reason? Without fair trial? You look at him with a hardening frown.

“No, kings fight with honor and that was not honorable. You answered justice with injustice,” you accuse, hands on his chest to give yourself more room. The tears have caked themselves on your cheeks, drying and pinching the skin beneath.

“It is as I make of it, I will not hear it!” Morpheus growls down at you, his hands gripping harder around your arms, squeezing as he screams his excuse.

Smack!

The stinging of your fingers meets the night air, the imprint of your hand swelling on Morpheus’ left cheek. His eyes are wide as it takes him a moment to realize you have struck him. When his eyes finally meet yours, he finds not the eyes of the woman he knew.

Morpheus sees anger, resentment, and hatred in your eyes. Your lips downturned with no regret of the action you just did. His jaw hangs open, the hit stunning him.

Matthew winces at the slap, having before been on the receiving end of it⎼even if it was under different circumstances. He and Jessamy turn around to give the two—should he call them lovers?—some privacy. The young knight follows Jessamy’s new fascination with toeing the loose garden path. This path sure is made out of path tonight… Matthew thinks to himself as he draws a pattern.

“Do not dare to touch me. Not now, not ever.” Your glare only softens when Morpheus lets you go, his fingers seemingly snapping open after realizing his grip on you.

“Forgive me,” Morpheus whispers, his head dipping in embarrassment.

A similar apology sits heavy on your tongue for striking him, but flashbacks of how you got into this situation play in your mind. Your teeth clamp over your tongue until you taste the iron of blood.

With a deep breath, you ask a question you’re not sure you’ll get an answer to. “Why are you so angry?”

The question shakes through his core, the words ringing in unfamiliar territory.

“I… I don’t know,” Morpheus answers slowly after a few quiet moments.

The crickets chirping fill in the growing silence as you take in his answer. With a sigh, you leave against the betterment of your judgment towards the scene of the crime.

You don’t have to look to know that Morpheus was trailing behind you. The ever-familiar sound of armor from Matthew and Jessamy follows as well.

You stop early, seeing the laying stump that is the recently passed Rodrick Burgess. In all of his past glory, real or not, here he laid for his crimes.

Morpheus follows your eye line, squinting in the dim light of the eclipse until they widen in realization. He jogs over, and this time you’re following him with heavy and dragging footsteps. Your heart rate picks up once more and though you know he is dead for good, a primal part of you still fears he may come back to life.

You can still feel Burgess’ scrutinizing gaze upon you and how his hands so easily wrapped themselves around your neck. The lack of power you had in the situation as your breath was taken from you, as your nails did nothing against his armor. Your hand reaches towards where he laid his hands on you and you wince as you touch the blooming bruise.

Morpheus crouches down to the body, placing the back of his hand to Burgess’ nose, and only stands back up when he concludes that he isn’t breathing anymore. He turns to you with a forlorn look on his face and his mouth agape with words that he tries to push out.

“Forgive me, for doubting you,” Morpheus manages to squeeze out eventually.

You turn your head away from him, staring off into the distance as his apology only skims across your ears. Morpheus’ eyes drift down towards your neck, guilt eating him alive as he sees the distinct bruise that encircled you like a noose.

A straying hiccup is fighting its way past your throat as you hear him coming closer to you. The air is thick with tension and a wedge grows between you like the weeds that sprout between the cracks of your garden path. Even if you try to stamp them out, they will grow back because both of you are too prideful to work together.

Your eyes retrace the dead body once again, the low light doing well to hide most of the gruesome aftereffect of Gaunt’s actions. But the smell, it permeates through the night wind and reaches your nostrils, making you sick to your stomach.

You’ve never even stepped in the kitchen when your father brought in fresh geese from his hunting trips; how do you deal with a person? The smell of death is so distinct. You turn away, the nauseating feeling of acid once again building up in your throat.

“Please,” Morpheus calls out to you, grabbing onto the fluff of your dress.

You turn quickly, feeling the seams ripping at the force of it. Your eyes widen as you see the great King Morpheus on his knees before you. His lithe fingers still grip your dress, the blood that had besmirched his hands transferring onto the silk and tulle.

“Gods, what are you doing!” You curse, dropping to your knees with him.

The grass pricks at your skin but you pay it no mind, grabbing onto Morpheus’ elbows to bring him up. He doesn’t go easy, because when has he ever? He’s just as stubborn as you are.

“I am sorry, please, I am sorry,” He apologizes into your gown, head low and almost bowing on his knees.

“Please, get up, Morpheus,” You whisper, grabbing at his elbows again and lifting him to stand with you.

His nose and eyes are blushed red as he holds back tears and he dips his head into your neck to hide himself. He hovers just above your neck, not quite touching your skin but you can feel his shaky breath along the curve of your neck. His hands are fisted at his side as he punishes himself mentally for what he has done to you.

Despite everything, despite your pride, despite your differences, your hands wrap themselves around his head, shielding him as he trembles like a lost boy in your arms. You feel no tears hit your shoulders and it’s a sad realization indeed when you’ve concluded that, even now, Morpheus won’t let his image crack in front of others.

Under judgment of the Celestial Lovers, the two of you remain like that for a few minutes. Silence, for once, was welcomed between the two of you. Morpheus’ breath slows down to match your speed and calms himself.

He is the first to pull away and he doesn’t look in your eyes after. It is a subtle action that you did notice and should you not have such a caring heart as you do, one you would’ve ignored. But, you can’t and so your heart lurches out to comfort him even when your mind is pulling you in the opposite direction.

“Where did we go wrong, Y/N?” Morpheus sighs defeatedly.

“We never ‘went wrong’, Morpheus,” you say after a few seconds with a sigh of your own. You think back to the first day you met him, the day of your wedding, to the whispered confessions he proclaimed to someone else. “We were doomed from the start…”

“Will you let us try?”

After all of this time? After months of neglect and loneliness? How could you possibly believe that Morpheus wants to start a relationship with you now? All of his past actions have contradicted everything that has led up to this moment. His question strikes a chord with you, and yet—

“Tell me, my lord.” You swallow your fear, gripping onto the dark cape Morpheus had draped over you previously. “Tell me of the conversation you shared with your beloved Calliope tonight and I will think about it.”

A small frown etches on Morpheus’ face. “Calliope is not my beloved,” he says first and foremost. “But, I told her that she was right after all, that we were simply not meant to be. That I do love you, it just took me a while to realize the feeling.”

“Why do I not believe you, Morpheus?” The confession was sweet, but he has yet to do anything to prove his words. “Words are not actions, and I cannot in good faith believe a single thing you have said to me tonight.”

This time, it is you who looks away. You must steel your heart away, you cannot let it get hurt again. Even now as it beats erratically in your chest, it feels like his fingers are gripping themselves around the muscle. Your fingers tremble as they continue to grip onto the cape.

“Jessamy, let us depart.” Morpheus finally says, clearing his throat and walking away, his footsteps silent compared to your beating heart.

Morpheus plays with his bracelet, pulling at it as it grows tauter against his wrist in retaliation. It sears into his skin, leaving a new reddening bruise. Your own mimics its partner, twisting and tightening in on itself, but you had long gotten used to the pain.

“Take me back to my room, Matthew,” you eventually say when Morpheus’ figure is no longer seen.

You lead the way, having long since memorized the outline of the castle gardens. Your company is that of night critters as they also enjoy the early night. Fireflies dance in the air in pairs as they celebrate the yearly union. The further you walk, the more dilute the smell of death becomes. Soon you are back to smelling the subtle hints of jasmines and evening primroses as they blossom in the night.

Blind by thoughts, you walk straight into another body, a small grunt leaving your lips. Matthew is there by your side to steady you before you even recognize what is happening.

“Forgive me, Your Grace.” Calliope’s infamous voice comes through the night.

“All is well,” you say, too tired to bring out the other negative emotions that usually show with her mention: jealousy, rage, resentment… No matter, not tonight. You grip onto Morpheus’ cape tighter as you make your way past her.

“Wait,” Calliope calls out. In a moment without thought, her hands reach out for yours, gently grabbing themselves over your cold digits.

“Hands off the Queen!” Matthew announces loudly in your ear. His nerves are on edge from all of the events that have occurred so far tonight.

“No, Matthew, it is quite all right.” You push the knight away with the back of your hand and a ringing of his voice in your ears.

“I simply want to say that I wish you the best of luck. Morpheus is very, shall we say… shy, about his actions. If he has not told you, we are not lovers. I stopped seeing him the day before your wedding. I just want you to know,” she rambles and you could never see it in her to do so. Yet, here she is, rambling, afraid that you would go back on your word and never speak to her again.

“I know, Calliope,” you sigh, holding her hand in your own. “I was angry and in denial with myself when I heard those words he whispered to you on that balcony.”

“You heard that?” Calliope gasps with wide eyes. She pulls herself closer to you and her presence feels like an old friend. “I am so—”

“I do not need any more apologies tonight, though I am thankful for your honesty. It is time to look toward the future on a more positive note. I would be honored to call you a friend, if you can forgive my own actions against you.”

“I never held that against you, Your Majesty. Being friends, it would be a dream come true.” Her hands squeeze yours like a small hug.

“You are too kind, my lady,” you say with a smile—a real, genuine smile.

A new flower blooms that night in your garden. From the blood of your spilled enemy and the promise of your first friend within castle walls, a hybrid between forget-me-nots and lilies emerges from the late summer grass.

Agnes greets you as soon as you step into your door. Her worry and fussing as she scans your tired face and bloody ripped dress is a contrast to her normally calm facade. She’s dragging you on your tired feet and undressing you head to toe before shoving you into an already prepared bathtub.

“Honestly, do people have no sense of decency anymore!” She mutters to herself as she frolics throughout the bathroom grabbing at this and that.

Agnes began throwing different creams and petals into the water, you might as well have been stew she was cooking. The water turns milky and orange like the summer firefruits the servants used to freeze for you to eat.

You stay quiet as she begins to scrub your body down with a new sponge, the familiar roughness of it calming in an odd way. Agnes is still muttering to herself as she does so, making sure to get through every nook and cranny she can.

The water is almost boiling hot, something that you would normally condemn but tonight you welcome it. It burns and washes away the sins and tragedies of tonight.

You’re nothing but a lump of flesh at her mercy as she suds your hair, her nails breaking apart dry blood and turning the soap brown. Her face is still tense, eyebrows furrowing as she washes away the sins of the past.

Iron permeates the air and the nauseating smell of death comes back like a disease on the horizon.

“Agnes, what is your opinion on the King?” You ask, half to distract yourself and half to learn more about him.

Would it be too late to learn more about your husband? Perhaps, it has been several months since you've sworn to each other for eternity. But, tonight an abundant amount of new information has come forth. Some were just speculation and some were outright facts.

“King Morpheus has always done right by us, Your Majesty,” Agnes states honestly.

“Us?” You probe.

“Yes, my late husband left us out to dry and I don’t make near enough for our son. King Morpheus is paying for his education and lets me sleep in the palace as long as I work under him. And to keep you safe of course, Your Majesty,” Agnes further explains.

She globs on a different type of cream into your hair and the air starts to smell like fresh fruit instead of dried blood. The image of Morpheus starts to shift as you imagine him through Agnes’ eyes. What was once dark turns lighter in your mind.

You suppose he isn’t a terrible husband, just a neglectful one. He lets you do as you please: tearing away at his gardens for your own sanctuary, permitting you into the royal library, and letting you paint uninterrupted in the studio.

Was everything he confessed tonight true then? That his feelings for you have changed from resentment of forced marriage into love? It is hard to believe, there is no way a person’s feelings could change so fast.

For all of the good that he’s done, there is also the bad. Neglecting you is the most obvious answer, but he also failed to listen to your pleas for mercy and rejected you from his inner royal court. He has refused to let you serve your kingdom and share the burden of ruling as a monarch. And though you resolved the issue of his former love for Calliope yourself, would it have wounded him to tell you himself? Why? Why?

The never ending torment that is your own thoughts has you sulking deeper into the bathtub until the only thing above the water are your eyes and nose. Agnes dumps water over your head and your breath creates bubbles in the water.

You wish to stay in the warm waters for the rest of your life, like returning to the safe womb from which you were born. At least there, you wouldn’t have to deal with… well whatever this is.

“I am sure that His Majesty never meant to harm you,” Agnes starts again, taking your forlorn expression.

Too many times has she seen a lonely wife on this side of the universe. Though poorer herself, she is blessed to have been married for love and not arrangement. A lonely wife is always the first ingredient for disaster, followed closely by an angry wife.

“The King is one of few words, but his actions proceed him. He thought he was doing right by you, Your Grace.” She quickly continues.

You don’t bother with a response. Perhaps he did think he was doing the right thing. You can imagine what it must have looked like to him in the dim light. A weapon in the hands of an unknown soldier, kneeling over you while your face was still panic-stricken.

It, however, doesn’t ignore the fact that he proceeded to ignore your pleas, too focus on bringing you his version of “justice.”

You don’t see Morpheus for another week, the tension between the two of you has died down to a low simmer instead of the raging boil you left at. In your time, you’ve started to enjoy Calliope’s company more and more.

Oftentimes, the two of you share conversation within one of the several drawing rooms in the palace. Calliope brings lemons from her home kingdom of Boeotica that are hardly grown in the seaside soils of the Dreaming. And with lemons comes to fruition your new favorite dessert of tiny lemon cakes.

Calliope often thinks that you seek out her company each day of the week just so you have an excuse to eat the pastries and drink tea, though you would deny it. You do genuinely enjoy her company. Had you never overcome your diversities with each other, you would have never known how kind, witty, and graceful she is.

She never minds it. Calliope has missed her sisters dearly, and your company ebbs away at the homesick feeling she’s had since coming here as emissary. And between laughs and hushed whispers of shared stories does she come to find a sister in you as well.

Other times, you find that Calliope loves to take morning strolls through the open grounds within the castle. She loves the way the sun feels against her skin, warming her up in the mornings like the soil beneath her feet. Matthew accompanies the two of you while she listens to your rambles, your mind having far too many topics of conversation given your lack of friends within palace walls.

“How did you come into Morpheus’ care?” You ask one day on a familiar stroll in the palace gardens.

Calliope hums as she acknowledges your question. She thinks for a moment amidst the sound of mourning doves and fountains trickling. You wait with bated breath. Your jealousy of Calliope has long dissipated, but a part of you wishes to know how she managed to become so amicable with your husband.

“Morpheus and I grew up in the same circle, being royalty and all. It is not uncommon to say that we had our fair share of encounters while we were children. Did you know that he was quite the rambunctious one while he was young? He, Hob, and Lucienne were oftentimes found chasing each other through the halls with wooden swords and empty threats.

Morpheus got into a lot of trouble, he often came back to his nanny covered in bruises or dirt. His mother never appreciated it, thinking it was unsightly for a prince to look and act as he did. I first met him when my parents were visiting as guests and I had holed myself up in some library. He comes bargaining in to hide from Hob and Lucienne from some game they’ve made up.

We became friends through our love of literature and when Hob and Lucienne eventually found him, they nicknamed him the Prince of Stories. He hated it, of course, saying something about how it was not regal enough for him.

Eventually, he had to step into the throne. As you may know, his brother was in contact with the divine and thus became divine—and had to step down as the next king of the Dreaming. His eldest sister left to travel, though for reasons unknown to anyone outside of the royal family.” Calliopes goes on.

Her voice is light and smooth, perfect for reminiscing and storytelling. You find yourself smiling at this new found information about Morpheus. His more solemn and distinguished attitude is a stark contrast to his childhood.

“Do you still love him?” You ask hesitantly, finding distraction in the morning bees that collected the last few drops of autumn nectar.

“Yes,” Calliope replies honestly. “But as friends.” She nudges you with a knowing smile as she sees you deflate slightly.

“I see.”

“You need not worry. I believe our relationship was due to his wish for simpler times. Everyone had grown up, Lucienne filled in her role quite well as the royal advisor, her studies proven well. Hob married and inherited his father’s fortune and lands. And Morpheus took to the throne, you must imagine how that is for a boy who was never meant to take to it?” Calliope stops just before the colonnades that reentered the palace as she asks you the question.

“How do you feel, Calliope? Now that he has listened to you and stopped the relationship?” You inquire, a curious frown etched upon your face.

“As if he’s finally grown to be the man he is meant to be,” she answers with a soft smile.

With that answer, she leaves you, having other responsibilities to tend to. The fall chill comes down, kissing across your exposed shoulders and caressing through the loose strands of your hair. Your mind is muddled with thoughts as you watch Calliope’s figure recede.

On the seventh day, Calliope is nowhere to be seen and instead, you find Morpheus standing in the middle of the drawing room. You had just finished a new book that you wished to share with Calliope, but instead, you’re greeted with bouquet after bouquet of different flowers.

“Oh!” You exclaim, confused.

You tilt your body outside for a moment to make sure that you stepped into the correct room. Jessemy’s body seems to materialize out of thin air, and her quiet demeanor makes her a lot more difficult to sense. You even look to Matthew just to make sure, but he meets you with a shrug.

“Good morning,” Morpheus coughs out when you turn your attention back to him.

Matthew lets out an aggressive sneeze as the sickly sweet smell from the abundance of flowers reaches his nostrils. The armor-clad knight sneezes again and practically shoves you into the room so that he can close the door behind him.

“I’m so sorry, Your Majesty,” he apologizes. Matthew’s muffled sneezes can still be heard on the other side.

A few seconds pass too fast, the atmosphere fills with awkward tension. You could hear the ringing in your ears and wish to crumble and hide within yourself.

“This is… a lot of flowers,” You state the obvious, scanning over the different colors and shapes.

“Yes,” Morpheus agrees, perhaps a little too quickly. “Lucienne said you might like a gesture, and I do not know what your favorite flowers are. I find that I do not know about you, at all.”

Morpheus watches closely as you trace the delicate petals of a yet to bloom dahlia with a soft smile. Dahlias are an incredibly romantic flower with the message being “forever thine” and he wonders if you knew that when selecting the flowers.

“I do like flowers,” you admit absentmindedly. “These are dahlias, an incredibly romantic flower, but not many know that they can be toxic, too. And these,” you practically skip over to another bouquet, “these chrysanthemums mean joy and optimism, and they can even make a soothing tea.”

Your eyes light up as you scan the room, taking in the different species and colors as you start to ramble about each one you like, naming their meanings and purposes. Morpheus listens intently, learning and smiling at the way you flitter around the room like an untamed pixie.

Your smile grows with each new flower you name and you turn to see him smiling back at you. The moment is lost, however, when you realize what he is trying to do.

“Wait,” you pause, leaving the flowers behind. “You thought that you would be forgiven after everything with just a few flowers?”

“I would not call this a few…” Morpheus laughs slightly and gestures towards the wall of flowers. “I want to get to know you.”

“That would have been a more appropriate conversation you should have shared with your wife on our wedding day,” you grit out.

The flowers are just a distraction. Morpheus may be a man of a few words, as Agnes has said, and you can see that he is trying in his own weird way. But it will take a lot more than some pretty flowers to gain your favor again.

“We are gathered here today to honor the recently passed Ser Gault, a noble soldier of the Dreaming whose bravery saved none other than the Queen’s life. As per King Morpheus, Ser Gault will be buried with the highest honor given within the kingdom.” The Reverend Destiny reads off of his old, leathered book.

You stand amongst the crowd of gathered attendees, the late autumn sun is just about to clip below the horizon. Through your black veil, you garner a small peek at your husband. Morpheus stands next to you, perfectly straight-postured as always and you’re having a hard time trying to read his emotions. Your eyes return to the wooden casket in the ground.

Six feet under, lies Gault. The very reason you are standing here today, alive and breathing, and yet she wasn’t. It’s been a couple of months since her death, the funeral had taken that long to carefully prepare.

Perhaps it is the black dress you wore or the cold and dry weather, but with every passing moment Destiny draws on, the harder it is to breathe. You feel as if your living body is going to freeze on the spot.

No one else spoke, you’re not even sure what the relationships between the attendees and Gault were. You did know that you felt out of place. Funerals should be surrounded by loved ones and you barely knew her past her name.

Even when everyone else leaves, having already given their prayers and flowers, you stay, feeling as if it was the best way to pay your respects. With each new layer of dirt the grave digger throws on top, you bury the guilt that weighed down your heart.

It could’ve been you.

It could have been you.

…

Should it have been you?

Morpheus’ presence brings you out of your thoughts and you find yourself blinking back tears. He’s twirling a singular white tulip between his fingers, contemplating something before he gives the flower to you. No words are exchanged as you hesitantly take the flower, but you understand him.

“Please forgive me,” He asks through the flower.

You take the flower from his hands, your fingers grazing his for a moment. The warmth is ever fleeting, and it’s missed as soon as you pull away. The tulip is light and delicate in your fingers, a simple push of your nail could snap the stem in half.

“I am still angry at you, Morpheus, and you are still not forgiven…. but this is a good start. You have always acted before you thought, and I’m not so sure anymore if it is a blessing or a curse,” You whisper to him.

The funeral staff have left, and the mound of dirt now rests, ready to be compacted down through time. You place the white tulip on the mound and walk away, giving Gault her first and last gift from you. The autumn chill creeps up quicker now that the sun has set and you briskly make your way back to the comforts of your suite.

Morpheus lets out a deep sigh, watching your receding figure merge with Matthew’s the further you walk away from him. His shoulder relaxes as he repeats your words on his lips.

“A good start…”

He returns with haste to the royal library and begins digging around the archives. He searches in candlelight desperately for a specific book he hasn’t read in a long, long, time.

“Looking for something in particular, my lord?” Lucienne’s voice calls out to him.

Morpheus looks down briefly from the ladder he clung to, the wrong book in his hands. He sighs as he slides the book back into its place, pushing on the old spine. The higher he went on the prongs, the stronger the books began to smell like his oldest brother.

“Language of flowers,” He admits defeatedly to his most trusted advisor.

“What ever do you need that for?” Lucienne asks, shocked to say the least.

“It seems to be the only way I can communicate with my wife.”

Lucienne raises a quizzical brow, probing him for further information without saying another word. Morpheus climbs back down the wooden ladder, candelabra in hand as he makes his way to her.

“Every time I try to explain myself, I simply make matters worse. Y/N has a kind love for flowers and seems to understand what I said during the funeral,” Morpheus explains.

Lucienne’s mouth opens in a silent “ah.” She knows exactly what he means, though she keeps the thoughts to herself. Looking past the already difficult past the two of you shared, Morpheus was hard to understand at his core.

He always came to conclusions within his own mind, only speaking the final verdict without letting anyone else in on his thoughts. At least with flowers, he can communicate in a way that you would understand.

Without another word, Lucienne disappears into the darkness of the library, knowing her way around the aisles as if it were the grooves in her own pointed ears. She comes back not a few moments later with the correct book in her arms, handing it over to her King.

Though, in the darkness of the night and the shadows cast by candlelight, Morpheus is basked in a type of vulnerability she hasn’t seen since they were children.

“For the Prince of Stories,” she jokes, a crooked smile dashing across her lips as she recalls the old joke.

Morpheus casts her a playful glare, thinking it had been too long for anyone to remember that nickname. But, he thanks her nonetheless and sits by a large window to catch up on some reading.

The moon rises higher in the sky, casting a blue hue over the worn and inked pages. His fingers trace across the drawings of different flowers and herbs alike as he pages through the book.

Jessamy remains by his side still as he makes his way to the palace gardens, muttering to himself as he tries to find the specific flowers he finds agreeable. By the time the moon reaches Her peak, Morpheus smells like fresh dirt and he interlaces the stems together into something more presentable, tying off the bouquet in some twine he found lying in a greenhouse.

He presents the finished bouquet to the only person around, who happens to be Jessamy. Ever silent, Jessamy only shrugs, her armored shoulder pads falling as soon as they rise.

Not exactly the greatest boost of confidence, but it was better than Jessamy ripping it to shreds, he supposed. He leaves the bouquet in the servant’s quarters with a specific note that Agnes is to send the flowers to you.

You wake up to a very excited Agnes shoving flowers ino your face. Sleep still clings to your eyelashes like glue and your frown only deepens when someone opens the heavy curtains of the room.

“What is going on,” you say sitting up, eyes blinking open.

Agnes shoves the bouquet of flowers into your hands, which you poorly grab at.

“It’s from King Morpheus,” Agnes explains as she begins to prepare you for your day.

A brush runs through your hair as you push your sleep aside. You stare at the flowers, a bouquet made of blue salvias, hawthorns, myrtles, hyacinths, and marguerite daisies.

“The more I look at it… the bouquet is kinda ugly,” Agnes mutters from behind you, her brush stopping mid-stroke.

You don’t respond to Agnes but silently agree. Morpheus didn’t seem like the type of person to send something half-done and you rack your brain as you start to name off the meanings behind each flower he sent you.

Blue salvias… meaning “I think of you,” hawthorns which represents the term “I am hoping,” while myrtles means “love in a marriage.” Your cheeks flush as you decipher the hidden message in the flowers. The remaining two flowers, hyacinths and marguerite daisies, decipher “to play” and “I await you.”

“I’m thinking of you. I am hoping for love in our marriage. Come play with me, I await you.” The message reads.

Morpheus waits for you? Figuratively or literally? If it was literally, where in the vast palace grounds would he wait for you? You ponder over the message across breakfast with Calliope, her voice muffled as you silently chew on your fruit, debating if you should even accept the invitation.

At least he isn’t forcing your hand, it will be your decision whether or not you should meet with him. At first, you considered not going at all, but that darn bracelet from the Sister Fates kept twisting and tightening around your wrist until you couldn’t take the subtle pain anymore.

You spend the rest of your afternoon hunting him down. If he couldn’t specify where he would like to meet, then you would just have to revisit all of the locations in which you have interacted with him. That was the best you could come up with at the time.

The drawing room was the closest to you at the time, the flowers Morpheus had gotten you were disposed of and the room returned to its original cleanliness. It still smelled of flowers, but the scent was less intruding this time around. Still, your husband was nowhere to be found.

You head to the ballroom next. With the lack of whimsical effects from the eclipse, the ballroom was just like any other space within the castle. Though the open ceiling was still a beautiful touch, casting everything in natural sunlight. You spot Lucienne near the unmoving decorative thrones at the very front and you make your way to her.

“Lucienne,” you call out to her, quickening your step to catch up to her.

“My lady,” she greets, clasping her hands over the heavy book she was holding.

“Have you seen Morpheus?” You ask outright.

“No, Your Majesty. King Morpheus has cleared his entire schedule today, therefore I haven’t a clue to his whereabouts.”

“Hm, interesting,” you think aloud. Lucienne was your first and only hope of easily finding him.

“Forgive me for not being of much help,” the royal advisor apologizes, pushing her round glasses back into place.

“Do not fret. Thank you, Lucienne.” You acknowledge this before letting her continue with her daily responsibilities.

Next, you make your way to the royal library, where you find Mervyn dusting the table lights with a grumble. The brighter blue of his new denim overalls makes him stick out like a sore thumb amongst the brown books. The pumpkin-head man doesn’t bother to answer your question, shooing you away with a dirty glove as if your very presence was enough to annoy him.

You leave, tail tucked between your legs and a little offended as you make it to Hob’s studio. Opening the door greeted you with past emotions you’re not sure if you’ve processed. You haven’t been back in the studio since that eventful evening and no one has been in since, either.

Dry paint was still splattered across the walls and floors, broken canvases were strewn across the room. Dust sprites have made themselves a small home, covering every inch of the place in a fine layer of dust. Upon seeing your face, they get shy and fly out past your head, leaving you sneezing and still unable to find your husband.

“Wait out here, Matthew,” you instruct as you slowly make your way into the studio.

You run a finger across a shelf, collecting the dust on your finger and rolling the lint into a small tube. The brushes have dried, paint caked onto them as if frozen in time with the promise of something new. But you know, you know the brushes are destroyed—that no matter how much water and oil you soak them in can you return them to the state they were before.

Evening came quicker now that it was autumn, beginning to cast the studio in a warm yellow light and illuminating the dust. You let out another sigh, relaxing your posture in the solitude of the broken room. To think that it was autumn already…

The window unlocks with a click and you open the glass panes to let the dust fly out. You enjoy the chill that ran down your shoulders as you lean out the window to escape the stuffiness of the room. The blissful solace was interrupted by a rustling below you.

In the colorful flowers of the gardens below you, you see Morpheus and Jessamy, their black colors displaced amongst the lively backdrop. Morpheus paces back and forth along the cobblestone path, looking towards the entrance below you before returning to his pacing.

Had he been there this whole time? You step away from the window, wishing to keep yourself hidden as you too begin to pace back and forth. This whole day was spent looking for him but now that you found him, you’re not sure if you want to see him.

Yes, you should see him, give him a piece of your mind.

No, you shouldn’t see him, let him suffer in his silence.

Yes, you should go to him, you can see his efforts in trying to reprimand his mistakes!

No, did you forget he refuses to let you do anything in the castle?

He lets you do a lot, all things considered.

“Oh, be quiet,” You scold yourself as your mind races.

Your feet move you out of the studio and out of the royal library all the while your mind still plays tug of war between yes’s and no’s. Soon you’re flying down the winding stairs that lead down to the gardens, your heart pounding and your breath shaky.

No, what if he hurts you again? And your hand pauses on the door handle.

But what if… Oh, gods above! Shut up!

You push the door open, the sun blinding and the air fresh against your flushed face. It’s too late to turn back now. Morpheus’ head snaps up at the sound of the door banging open, standing to his feet even though he had just sat back down. He stares, wide-eyed and unblinking at you. As if afraid that if he does, it would have all been a figment of his imagination and you were nothing but an illusion of his wishes.

A beat of silence passes between you, even leaves don’t dare fall as if trying to avoid the tense atmosphere. It’s you who breaks it first for if it continued any longer, you would run back up those stairs again.

“Hello, Morpheus,” you greet and raise your hand in a wave and inwardly cringe at how horrible this is and you should just turn around and hide in your room.

“Y/N,” Morpheus breathes out your name like a song.

“How long have you been waiting?” You ask, noting the amount of pacing he had been doing.

“Since dawn,” He responds honestly, his cheeks and nose flushed from the cold air.

“Forgive me for keeping you, the flowers… they did not specify where,” you apologize quickly. He nods in understanding, there isn’t exactly a flower that means “meet me at the garden under the marble statue of the naked woman fountain.”

“No, I would’ve waited the night if necessary,” Morpheus assures and another beat of silence follows at his confession. “Would you like to promenade with me?”

You nod once, enough for Morpheus to close the gap between you and offer his arm. You hesitate for a moment but swallow it down as you wrap your fingers around his limb.

“Just this once,” you agree. The two of you begin to stroll through the expansive gardens, enjoying the weather and last of the sun’s rays.

“I would like to get to know you, if it pleases my wife,” he says suddenly amongst the sound of trickling water and birds chirping.

“What do you wish to know?” You respond. Morpheus pauses for a moment, not particularly expecting to have come this far in conversation—if he was going to be honest with himself.

“What is your most favorable season?” He asks.

“Spring,” you answer easily. “Though I keep that information close to my chest.”

Morpheus smiles at your little jab. Spring would explain your love of flowers, when they are most beautiful.

“Why do you enjoy dancing?” He inquires next.

“It is a physical form of music and music is beautiful but intangible,” you explain as best as you could, but the feeling is hard to put to words. “I’ve always danced when I’m happy and therefore have become happy when I dance.”

“Do you miss your family?”

“Not as much as I miss my harpsichord,” you joke, having gotten used to the freedom away from the scrutinizing gaze of your father and the constant lessons from your mother. “Tell me about your family.”

“What is there to learn? All events have been written on paper and bound in leather.” He lets out a deep chuckle at his own joke before pretending to clear his throat when you don’t laugh with him.

“Tell me about your sister, Teleute. Why is she not here?” You ask instead.

The night that Rodrick Burgess burst into the ballroom is still fresh in your mind. Something made him believe that Morpheus’ sister could bring back his dead son and Calliope mentioned something happened to Teleute but it is a heavily guarded secret.

“A royal family secret,” Morpheus confirms your suspicions. “Teleute almost died giving birth to her first child. Since that tragedy, she has been an oracle and foreseer of death itself, though we know not the reason why. Our parents sent her away in fear of their own deaths coming sooner.”

So, it was simply misinformation that Rodrick Burgess was fed. She could only predict when and how someone died, not bring them back from the dead. You suppose any loving parent would want to bring their child back, and even go to extreme lengths to achieve it.

“A cruel thing for parents to do to their daughter.” You frown as you realize that the former king and queen had banned her from her own home.

“Yes, but the last I’ve known of her, she is happier out there and not in here.”

“What of the rest of your siblings?”

“I have six in total.” Morpheus continues to indulge your curiosity. “You know of Reverend Destiny, I have a wild card of a brother who left the royal family and his titles for no known reasons, but I don’t blame him. There are the twins, who disagreed with my ascension to the throne and have declared themselves enemies of the Dreaming, but that is a discussion for another day.”

“That is only five siblings, what of the sixth?” You question as you mentally tallied up the number.

“My youngest sister passed in her sleep whilst fighting a fever dawning on her third birthday,” Morpheus reveals quietly, briefly reliving the past.

“My condolences, my lord.” You apologize quickly after for probing too far.

“Thank you, but it has been many years and the ache is healed.”

The two of you fall into another silence, following the cobblestone path beneath us. Mervyn had been doing a wonderful job in keeping the path clean, not a single blade was out of place and no insufferable weeds popped up.

Arm in hand, you and Morpheus descend further into the gardens where the bushes are overgrown and the flowers grow wildly over forgotten statues. A gazebo stood strong despite the strong cracks in its foundation and columns. A lone stone table with a game of black and white sits beneath its roof.

“Do you know how to play?” He asks as you two stop before the table.

“Chess?” You confirm his question, to which he nods. “Yes, I would dare say I am quite proficient.”

“I shall take that as a challenge, for I have never lost a game.” Morpheus grins as walks up the small steps of the marble gazebo.

“Consider your challenge accepted,” You say with a prideful glint, raising your chin high. “Which side do you prefer?”

“Ladies first, I insist.” Morpheus offers the side to the white side with his hand before taking a seat opposite of you.

The stone seat is cool beneath your legs, a calming temperature as the air crackles with both of your egos on the line. You watch as Morpheus realigns his pieces so they all face the same way. You wonder whether or not he was giving you the upper hand by giving you the side which will move first, but the more you think about it, the more you realize it is so he could see how you think.

White always moves first, it usually attacks and black defends—but chess is not just about capturing and winning, it is a game of logic and strategy. Both opponents show their skills in how they maneuver their pieces while manipulating their opponents. Your eyes meet his once again and all playful banter the two of you shared is gone.

The man in front of you now is no longer your husband. No, this is King Morpheus: calculating, patient, and intelligent.

As per the rules of the game, you move first and Morpheus watches intently. He sets his next piece out and the two of you play back and forth as the game slowly progresses. You watch Morpheus hover his fingers over his bishop in thought, his mind whirling with different scenarios.

“Do you play chess often?” Your voice cuts through his thoughts like a sword freshly sharpened off the whetstone.

“When I have the time,” He answers soon after.

“I see,” you hum in response and the silence continues.

“Are you sure you want to do that?” Your voice cuts through the quiet of the game once again.

“Yes…” Morpheus draws out and you see his jaw tick in annoyance. Your soft smile and voice is starting to distract him and any plan he tries to come up with. He lets go of the knight, forgetting if that was really what he wanted to do or not.

“Very well,” you feign a sigh, a hint of mischief hidden in the message.

The quietness continues as the only sounds that accompany the game are the sounds of your laughter as you capture any of Morpheus pieces and the rising crickets.

Soon enough, the pieces are scattered across the black and white board as you enter the end game. Morpheus has a great deal of your pieces captured and you the same on your side. The game slows as both of you try to figure out the best course of action and reaction from each other.

You try your luck at distracting him again, though this time you ask a question that has been left unanswered for months.

“Have you ever thought back to my question from that night?” You ask even though it was your turn.

“Which one?”

“Why are you so angry, Morpheus?” You ask again, this time expecting an answer.

“Do you really think me so?” Morpheus retorts as the game turns over to him.

“Angry? No, not anymore. I think you are lonely,” you conclude as you watch his piece move across the chessboard.

The sun is beginning to set, much like the end of the game. Its final rays are casting everything in a deep orange and the night critters begin to warm their voices to sing.

“I am not lonely,” Morpheus scoffs at you. “I am constantly surrounded by people and even childhood friends.”

“And yet, you still lie.” You frown at his evasive answer. “I, too, am surrounded by friends and servants but at least I knew I was lonely.”

“It is my fault you had to feel such a way,” he apologizes again.

You shrug him off, the sound of his apologies now familiar in your ears and you no longer wish to hear them. You wish to hear the truth.

“For me, people held me at a distance because by law I am their queen and they cannot look past the title. Through time, I no longer blamed them for doing so. For you, however, why do you distance yourself from those around you emotionally?” You ask, wanting to dig deeper into his thoughts.

Morpheus seemed stunned at your new question, one that penetrated his very soul and held it out for him to see and reflect upon. When he thinks about how he has treated those around him, the answer comes out slowly but truthfully.

“I have built myself onto a pedestal of regality and control that no one can reach. But I realized that it was not constructed of marble but that of mud and sand from which if a single grain falls, I shall lose everything. I cannot be weak, I cannot let my subjects suffer as such.” Morpheus finally confesses.

He’s not sure who needed to hear it more, you or himself. Morpheus thinks himself as the only one with responsibility. And while it is true his are more grand and important than most, he believes it to be his and his alone. To push them onto others is a burden. Should he seek others for help, he cannot control the outcome no matter how satisfied or failed it may be.

“Only a weak king would deny their weakness and faults. You are good, Morpheus. Fall if you so shall decide to, and you will find that I will be there to catch you. You are not alone anymore.” You smile at him, one he wishes to see for the rest of his life.

Your smile only widens as you move your queen and it’s soon realized to both of you that you had finally cornered his king.

Checkmate.

His king has nowhere else to run and your standing, victorious queen blocks his path. Morpheus frowns as he tries to find a way to continue playing, but no matter what he plans, nothing comes to fruition.

“I surrender,” He sighs as he goes to knock his piece over. He had fully fallen to your distractions and whims.

The ceramic piece topples over and bounces against the marble game board, rolling around slowly as it accepts its defeat. You glance from your seat across from him and notice the tick of his jaw as he loses his first game of chess.

“Perhaps ‘I surrender’ is not the correct course of action here,” You say after a deep breath.

You reach for the small black chess piece and examine it closely between pinched fingers. The detailing is well done, and the craftsmanship comes from the hands of an expert. You place the ebony piece next to your queen of ivory, the two pieces standing together amidst a gameboard of fallen pawns, knights, and bishops.

“Marriage is a partnership. I do not want you to surrender to me and in return neither will I to you. I simply ask for us to be equals.” You stare at Morpheus with a hopeful look.

Morpheus glaces between you and the chess pieces and finally gives you a small smile. You are too good for him and he promises himself that he will spend the rest of his life making sure he is the husband you deserve.

“As you wish, my queen.”

Dusk settles and takes your combined sorrows with it. Tomorrow a new dawn will rise with the promise of hope.

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God, finally they made up. Only took them fucking what? 35k words? Medium slow burn fr

♡ Yours, Layla

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#the sandman #dream of the endless #morpheus x reader #morpheus #the sandman fanfic #dream of the endless x reader #dream x reader #the sandman x reader #sandman x reader #destined dreams of love #dream the endless x reader #the sandman dream #dream the endless #x reader #morpheus x reader smut

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renardiererin · 13 days

Text

i knew it, i know you ; city one

—the exit of the club

“yn wait,” rintarou called after her, taking wide strides with his height advantage as she had to pick up to a jog to keep herself away. “no, rintarou, fuck off.”

“i promise you, it’s not what it looks like. it seems so black & blue right now, i swear to you, baby, it’s not what you think.”

“so you didn’t just let that girl almost fuck you at the bar? while i was right there?” she finally turned to face him now, cheeks black with mascara and hair messy from her frantically running her hands through the strands that had once been curled to perfection. one strap of her dress hung loosely down her shoulder, the other still in place, shoes in her hand & lips red from anxious biting.

he stuttered momentarily. “i- i mean it’s not not what it looks like,” he began, “no, suna, i said stop fucking talking. i don’t have time for you to sit here and tell me i’m crazy because you don’t like that i caught you red fucking handed. i’m not just gonna forgive you and pretend like i didn’t see what i saw. it would make this a hell of a lot easier for me, i start my fucking tour tomorrow. i was supposed to start it tonight but i pushed it back for you. my manager was so fucking mad at me for moving it, but i wanted to be there for you. all that and for what? i was planning our future, rintarou, i had less than half of something and what you gave was what i wanted, but you know what? maybe it’s time for me to find out who i am without you. do not fucking text me, suna. don’t speak to me, don’t ask my friends or my brother about me, leave me the fuck alone.” and there she was, running into the uber she’d called ten minutes before and throwing her promise ring right back into the face of rintarou suna, still frozen, fading in the rear view was she made her way home.

felt good about you ; last kiss

☆

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peacelovepandora · 2 years

Text

Angel of my Heart

Jake Sully x Daughter!Reader

this is a part of a series of continuation scenarios following part 1 part 2, and part 3. enjoyyyyy xx.

A gentle gust blew against your long, dark hair. Loose strands swept in front of your face, slightly disturbing your view as you gazed at the sky. At the tender hour before eclipse, the sky darkened, gaining a rich pigment that resembled the skin of a salmon. Tucking a few strands behind your ear, you sighed, trying to slow your breathing as your heart rate began to climb.

"This used to be my favorite time of day," you whispered to yourself, lowering your gaze to your feet.

"Y/N?" a voice called, snapping you from your thoughts.

Aonung, walking steadily against the elastic material that led to your family's quarters, gave you a polite smile.

"Aonung," you greeted, a small smile tugging at your lips, "Hi."

As he grew close, your gaze fell to his hands, noticing his careful grip on a small, woven pouch. Curious, you raised your eyes to his when he reached a stop.

"Oel ngati kameie," he spoke deeply, raising his hand to his forehead before motioning outwards, "How are you tonight?"

"Oel ngati kameie," you replied, repeating the motion, "I'm alright. You?"

He shrugged, lowering his gaze. "Alright," he replied before meeting your eyes, once again, "A bit better now, I suppose."

A familiar feeling, one that you only felt in Aonung's presence, made itself known in your stomach. Your smile widened as you broke from his gaze, looking down before eyeing the ocean.

"I--well, my sister, actually," he began, causing you to turn back to him, "wanted to gift you with this. She said something about you losing the first one you had."

Lifting his hands, he handed the woven pouch to you, spiking your curiosity. Acting gently, you loosened the tie and opened the bag. Aonung watched you carefully.

Before reaching in, you peeked up at him. "What is it?" you teased.

When his shoulders relaxed, and a playful smile danced over his lips, your heart swelled. Raising his eyebrows, he gestured to the bag and answered.

"You must open the surprise to find out for yourself."

A giggle escaped your lips as you looked back down. Once your eyes fell on the small object inside, your heart soared.

"Oh," you gasped, reaching inside and lifting the object small out, "Yes I--my anklet! I lost it when . . ."

As you trailed off, Aonung nodded, a silent assurance that you didn't need to explain further.

The woven accessory, soft against your touch, contained various shades of green--ranging from dark forest greens to lighter, leafier greens. At the ends, dainty green beads dangled loosely.

"The colors," you breathed, turning it over in your hands, "they remind me so much of--"

"The forest," Aonung finished, making you look up and nod, "That was done intentionally."

For a moment, you stared at him silently. Under your gaze, he shifted slightly, looking away before speaking again. "Well, she hopes you like it."

Another smile, wider this time, pulled at your lips. "I do," you replied, glancing down at the gift in awe, "I really do."

Upon hearing your words, Aonung peeked back down at you, his lips briefly turning upwards. "She will be glad to hear it."

"Give her this for me."

Aonung barely had time to face you before you closed your arms around his waist. His eyes widened as he stepped back once, balancing himself as you embraced him. For a moment, his arms hovered in the air, unsure of how to react to your sudden act of affection. However, as he looked down, taking in the sight of your head resting against his chest, he felt something shift internally.

Releasing a breath, he carefully wrapped an arm around your back and placed his other hand on your head.

"Very glad that you like it," he spoke lowly, preparing to rest his head over yours.

However, he halted his actions as his eyes fell on Jake, who had suddenly appeared from behind the hut. Jake, who had initially been looking down, raised his head before freezing. Their eyes met for a split second before Aonung released you, moving as though you'd burned him.

Taking your hands, Aonung patted the anklet a couple of times. "You keep this. My father needs me. I must be going."

Slightly startled, but nonetheless grateful, you nodded gently before sending him a brief smile. The boy lowered his gaze and hurried in the opposite direction, accelerating his pace to a slight jog.

Jake, who had since snapped from his brief state of shock, narrowed his eyes as he watched Aonung flee from your side. Then, after taking a few steps forward, keeping his eyes on the teenage boy, he rested a gentle hand on your shoulder.

When you jumped, Jake snapped his gaze down to you.

"Oh, I'm sorry," he breathed, placing his other hand on your shoulder and squeezing gently, "I'm sorry, sweetheart."

"It's okay," you answered, chuckling dryly as you looked up, "I'm sorry. It's me. I'm just so--"

"Hey," Jake cut in, shaking his head as he turned you, "It's not you. It's never you, alright?"

Sighing, you nodded, fiddling with the anklet in your grasp. A smile ghosted his lips as he cupped your chin for a moment before releasing you. "What did Aonung want?"

"Oh!" you responded, as your lips turned upwards, "Look! You know how I lost my anklet? Tsireya made another one for me!"

Jake's heart swelled at your visible excitement. "Really? Is this it?" he asked, holding his hand out for you to place it in, "Huh, lots of green."

"For the forest," you replied, turning it over in his hand, "See, even the beads match."

Jake nodded before glancing back in the direction where Aonung disappeared. Unable to withhold his burning question, he spoke again.

"And Tsireya couldn't deliver it to you herself?"

"She probably got caught up helping her mom," you answered, gently taking the anklet from his hand, "Besides, I haven't seen Aonung in a minute. It was nice to have a run in with him."

Jake's eyes still gazed past you. "Uh huh."

Finally catching where his mind was at, you looked up at your father. Then, feeling a subtle strike of delinquency, you tucked the anklet between your upper lip and nose. Frowning up, you pursed your lips and crossed your arms.

"Are you gonna threaten Aonung for acknowledging my existence?"

This broke Jake from his thoughts. After his eyes landed on you, he looked you up and down, taking in your comical pose before a smirk tugged on his lips.

"Not unless you want me to," he answered.

When your face fell, the anklet fell from your lips. Jake caught it before it landed, chuckling as he straightened back up. "Come on," he said, nodding towards the hut, "I'll knot this for you."

Pouting teasingly, you edged your way towards the hut. Jake, who had looked out at the water for a moment, did a double-take when he glanced at you. Narrowing his eyes playfully, he reached out, growling threateningly as you dodged his grasp and ran inside. You let out a minor yelp as you ran, making Jake tilt his head back with a laugh as he followed you inside.

"Oh, and for the record," Jake spoke up, settling himself on the floor, "A hug is more than acknowledging someone's existence."

"It wasn't for him," you countered, sitting across from him, "It was for Tsireya. I just asked him to pass it to her."

Raising an eyebrow, Jake didn't bother to hide the skepticism in his eyes. Releasing a sigh, you shook your head before breaking your gaze from his.

"It was harmless, Daddy. I swear it."

Relaxing his face, Jake glanced out the hut one last time, before turning his attention back to you. "Alright, sweetheart," he breathed.

When you didn't respond, he leaned forward, placing a hand over your knee. "Alright," he emphasized, with a tilt of his head.

Looking up, you connected your eyes with his and gave him a gentle smile. He flashed one in return before leaning back.

"Okay," he said, patting his lap, "Which ankle do you want? Same as last time?"

"Mhm," you hummed, "Right one please."

When you lifted your right leg, he took your ankle and placed it on his thigh. Then, handling the anklet with gentle hands, he wrapped it just above your foot and began knotting it. For a moment, you watched him in silence. Then, as the hut suddenly grew darker, your head snapped towards the opening. Outside the wide arch, you had a slight view of the eclipsing sun.

Jake glanced up, finishing his last knot as he watched you carefully. He didn't miss perturbed expression that crossed your face. Finishing with one last pull, he patted your ankle.

"Good to go," he said, grabbing your attention.

When you looked down at your ankle, a small smile pulled at your lips. "Thanks, Dad," you whispered, pulling your foot close.

He watched you for a moment--watched as you tucked your knees to your chest, wrapped your arms around your calves, and placed your chin between your knees. He began to reach out, but stopped himself as he decided on another course of action.

As he stood up, your eyes followed his movements, curiosity overtaking your gaze. He smiled briefly, nodding towards the doorway. Once he sat back down, facing the outside of the hut, his hand motioned you over.

With a quick jump, you raised yourself to a squat before straightening up and walking up to him. However, rather than sitting next to him, you settled yourself behind him, wrapping your arms around his neck and resting your chin on his shoulder. Jake released a breathy chuckle, placing his hands over your forearms and pecking your temple.

"Y/N."

"Mm?"

"You remember what I told you? About letting me know when things are bothering you?"

Tucking your head down, you nodded. "Mhm."

Sensing your hesitance to open up, Jake released a small breath. Shifting his gaze from you, he stared at the sky, deciding it was time to be more direct. "Tell me about the eclipse."

You were quiet for a moment, before a dry chuckle escaped your lips. "You catch everything, don't you, Dad?"

His hand reclaimed its place on your forearm. Turning his head, he spoke closely to you. "Always," he replied, "You're my little girl. It's my job."

As his words lingered in the air, your mind wandered back to the moments before your first death. Being sprawled out on the rock, the blood running down your chest, the devastation in your father's tearful eyes--all things that made your chest constrict.

Recognizing the shift in your mental state, Jake immediately unwrapped your arms from his neck. "C'mere," he instructed softly, pulling you around him, "Let's switch."

Once he plopped you onto his lap, he wrapped his arms around your biceps, engulfing you completely. Closing your eyes, you took a moment to enjoy the feeling of being held. His arms, muscular signs of security, anchored your swirling mind. Then, after a long moment, and a long breath release, you reopened your eyes.

"It was the last thing," you whispered, making Jake tilt his head to get a glimpse of your face.

"What was the last thing?" he asked, rubbing a thumb over your arm.

"Just like your voice was the last thing I heard, the eclipse was the last thing I saw," you whispered, closing your eyes and lowering your head, "It haunts me every time I see it."

Jake's ears folded back as he released a small breath, his mind tortured by the agonizing vision of your dying expression. Then, pulling you closer, he began placing multiple kisses on your head--moving from your hair to your temple to your ear to your cheek. After running a brief hand over your head, before wrapping it back around you, he prepared to respond. However, you spoke up before he could.

"It used to be my favorite time of day--eclipse," you continued, shaking your head as your gaze remained low, "but now . . . every time I see the sun disappear . . . I can't escape it--the unease, the fear, the flashbacks. Every time I think I'm moving past it, eclipse comes and reopens the wound, and it's fresh in my mind every night."

As Jake listened, he quickly made the connection between your ongoing nightmares and eclipse.

If eclipse brings the memories back in a fresh wave every night . . . Jake thought to himself, No wonder she's dealing with these night terrors.

"Every time the sun disappears, I feel as though my return to the Great Mother is among us," you finished, shivering in his arms.

Though he knew your chill wasn't from coldness, for a brief moment, Jake subconsciously rubbed his hands over your arms before wrapping them around you again. Looking up, you stared out to the horizon. Jake processed your words and shook his head, closing his eyes as a searing pain shot through his heart.

"Baby girl," he began, speaking in a hushed voice, "I can't even begin to tell you how sorry I am. For all of this. It was my fault. It was my job to keep you safe--it still is--and to make sure that nothing in this world hurts you. I'll . . . I'll never forgive myself for failing you the first time around."

Frowning, you turned to face him, cupping his cheek with your smaller hand. "Daddy . . . Daddy," you called, making him open his eyes to look at you, "Not once have you ever failed me. What happened that night was beyond your control. Quaritch was beyond your control. The sky people returning was beyond your control. In those last moments, you and I--" You paused, feeling yourself grow choked up.

Jake's eyebrows creased as his gentle eyes held your gaze. Though he knew that you were the one trying to offer him words of comfort, he could never disregard his paternal instinct to console you anytime you grew dewy-eyed.

Cupping your cheek, he began rubbing his thumb over your prominent cheekbone. However, you quickly removed his large hand from your skin, holding it with both of yours.

Your voice came out as a pained whimper, but you forced yourself to get the words out. "You and I both knew what was happening--what was going to happen," you said, making Jake blow a breath out of his nose and lower his head briefly, "B-But you--"

Cupping your father's cheeks, you forced him to meet your eyes, once again--an action he'd done with you countless times. When he did, you pressed your palm against his chest. "When that realization hit me, and I grew panicked, you gave me peace," you continued, "Because of you, I wasn't afraid to let go. You had the strength to make sure that I wouldn't be afraid to die."

Jake shook his head, eyes filling with tears as he let out a sob. He cupped both of your cheeks before pulling you into his chest, folding his arms around you.

"My sweet girl," he choked, squeezing you against him and running a shaky hand over your hair, "God . . . . God, my sweet angel."

"P-Please don't call yourself a failure, Daddy," you whimpered, squeezing your eyes shut as you pressed into his skin, "It hurts me because you're my heart, and I don't blame you for any of this." A small sob escaped your lips now, though you tried to hold it back. "I'm just so frightened now. Not of dying, or joining the Great Mother, but frightened of losing you again."

Jake let out another breath, wishing only to squeeze you tighter, but restraining himself--knowing that he had the potential to hurt you.

"We share the same fear, baby," he answered, placing his chin over your head, "I can't lose you either. Never again."

Then, after a moment spent in thought, he tilted his head down, placing the pads of three of his fingers against your chin and gently coaxing your head up. When you felt his tender touch, you instantly obeyed his silent command, connecting your eyes with his.

"And you and I--we're many things to each other. I'm many things to you. But 'your heart'?" Jake continued, shaking his head, "I can't . . . I can't let you give me that title. I, alone, don't deserve a title so generous."

Pressing your lips together, you leaned up, taking his hand from your chin and holding it. "Who wanted to take me back home? Who wanted to give it a try, even though I had already joined the Great Mother?"

The tension in his face eased, though the solemnity never left his eyes. His lack of answer was enough for you. Smiling slightly, you placed his hand over your heart.

"It's beating because you demanded it to beat again. You are my heart, Daddy. It is decided."

The two of you held each others' gazes for a long moment. Then, after releasing a breath from his nose, a smile began to tug at Jake's lips. Cupping both sides of your head, he pulled you close and kissed your forehead. However, rather than pulling away, he closed his eyes and pressed his forehead against yours. You mirrored him, closing your eyes, as well.

After a long moment of comfortable silence, you gathered the courage to share another burden with your father--one that you'd been holding for days.

"Daddy?" you whispered, making him open his eyes.

"Hm?" he hummed, focusing his gaze on you.

Your eyes remained closed as you spoke. "Can I tell you something else?"

A minuscule spark of joy spread through him. Nothing made him happier than seeing you let your walls down to him. "Anything that's on your mind, sweet girl."

Pulling back, you opened your eyes. However, you kept your gaze low, focusing on Jake's necklace, rather than meeting his eyes.

"I'm afraid I've brought our family shame."

Jake frowned. "What?" he breathed, beginning to shake his head, "No. No, no, sweetheart, you haven't. What happened might have been beyond my control, but it sure as hell wasn't in your control, either."

"That's not what I mean," you replied, looking away briefly.

Jake's shoulders sunk as his frown eased. "Oh," he spoke, "Then, how do you mean?"

You sighed, feeling embarrassment creep up your spine, swirling around your chest and stomach. "I've lost my connection to the water."

Jake blinked at you. His lack of response made you fumble into a series of excuses. "I-It's just--ever since--I just look at the water and I can't bring myself to--I mean, I haven't swam properly since it all--"

Jake reached out, gently cupping the back of your neck. "Y/N," Jake hushed you, "Y/N."

For a brief moment, he placed a finger on your lips, silencing your rambles. Once you fell silent, receiving the message, he adjusted his hands to hold your chin, gripping it between his thumb and forefinger.

"Sweetheart," he began, looking away briefly as a chuckle pushed its way through his lips, "I swear, I'm gonna get this through that thick skull of yours, if it's the last thing I do."

Your lips parted as you absorbed his words. Jake looked back at you, his pointer gently rubbing against the skin beneath your chin.

"None of this is on you. Absolutely none of it. You got that?" he continued, waiting for you to nod.

When you did, his gaze remained unmoving.

"You sure?" he asked, raising his eyebrows and tilting his head, "I know you can be as stubborn as your mother, sometimes."

"I got it," you answered meekly, keeping your gaze down.

"That was pathetic," he replied flatly, briefly using his finger to tickle the skin beneath your chin, "C'mon, a little more feeling."

A giggle spilled from your lips as you pulled away, gripping the hand that held your chin.

"I got it," you replied, louder this time as you met his eyes with raised eyebrows.

"You gonna stop worryin' that pretty little head of yours about it?"

Embarrassment crossed your face. Leaning down, you shoved your face into his chest. "Yes," you mumbled, feeling him shake as he chuckled.

"Good," Jake answered, a smirk fading from his lips, "Now--hey, look at me."

Jake tried to lean you back up, but you dodged his hand. Then, rolling over, you laid your head against his left thigh, bending your knees and placing your feet down to support yourself. Smiling softly, Jake reached down and cupped your chin with both hands, rubbing his thumbs over your skin.

"Between you and the water," he continued, "you're just dealing with some PTSD."

When your face fell, he released a sigh. "I'm afraid things like this are inevitable, baby. They're gonna happen. But, we can always find ways around them. And, you and I, we're gonna deal with it together. Alright?"

As you looked into his eyes, relief seeped into your veins. Without saying a word, he communicated your safeness with him. With his eyes, he let you know that, even if the Metkayina had thoughts on your temporary disconnect with the water, he would be the first to jump in front of you, guarding every blow before it could touch you.

Nodding your head, you released a breath. "Thanks, Daddy," you whispered, reaching up to grip one of his wrists, "Truly. I can't thank you enough for always being . . . here. For always listening. For caring."

He shook his head. "I don't like that you're thanking me for doing the bare minimum," he answered matter-of-factly, "You're mine, and I'll always be here, whether you like it or not."

"Even if you have to go off, and be Toruk Makto again?"

Jake removed a loose strand of hair from your forehead. Then, he leaned in slightly, raising his eyebrows in the process. "Being your heart is more important to me than being Toruk Makto, angel."

Giving him a close-lipped smile and shutting your eyes, you said nothing in response--fulfilled by his weighted words.

As endeared as Jake was--with your head lying in his lap--he wanted you closer. "C'mere," he rasped, patting his thighs.

Opening your eyes, you gave him a confused look. "I'm here."

"Well, I can't hold you from down there," he retorted, raising his eyebrows as you snorted.

"Hold my face," you sassed, closing your eyes again, "I'm comfy."

Jake tilted his head, narrowing his eyes. A mischievous snarl crossed his face. "Is that so?" he asked, his tone a little too sweet for your liking.

Barely having time to open your eyes, he gripped your midsection and yanked you up. Gasping, you broke into a fit of laughter as he closed his arms around you. It was the same position he had you in earlier, however, his grip was much less relenting, this time.

"I said I wanna hold you," he growled, pressing his face against your twitching ear as you laughed, "You gonna make me pull out the old tricks?"

"Old tricks?" you attempted to hiss, "Please."

"Is that a challenge?" he inquired, raising an eyebrow, before leaning in to blow in your ear, "How much're we bettin'?"

Your eyes widened as you tried to lean away. "No!" you hollered, fighting giggles as you tried to distance yourself from him, "No, stop it, Dad! I'm not five anymore!"

"And?"

He shook his head in your neck, making you cackle as your cheeks burned with embarrassment. However, your embarrassment spiked as a large shadow fell over your face, making you open your eyes.

With your head leaned back, you had an upside down view of Tonowari. Gasping, you leaned up, gazing at your lap as your face blazed with fire.

"Apologies," Tonowari spoke up, unable to hold back his chuckles, "I do not mean to intrude."

Jake shook his head, chuckling with him. "You aren't."

Swallowing your pride, you looked up at the Metkayina chief, preparing to greet him properly. "Oel ngati kameie, Olo'eyktan Tonowari."

Jake looked down at you, pride spreading across his face. Tonowari gave you a fond smile as he took a knee. "Oel ngati kameie, young one," he replied, before turning to Jake, "Oel ngati kameie, Jakesully."

"Oel ngati kameie," Jake replied politely.

Tonowari, then, turned to you, once again. "Are you well, my child?"

Your shoulders sunk as the tension within your body eased. "I am . . . as well as I can be."

Jake ran a hand over your hair as Tonowari nodded once. "I understand," he answered, "On behalf of The People, my children, my wife, and myself, we are grateful to have you back with us."

Your heart swelled at his words. Visibly lighting up, you placed a hand on your heart. "Thank you, sir. I am overjoyed to be back with you all. Thank you for continuing to provide our family with sanctuary."

After nodding again, he replied. "You will always have a place here."

Upon hearing his words, your organs warmed, feeling as though a swarm of glowfish were traveling through your veins. Though Jake was always your primary paternal figure, you couldn't help the pleasure you felt in pleasing the chief of the Metkayina--and father to friends you held dear.

"If you don't mind, may I borrow your sempul for a moment?" Tonowari asked, raising his eyebrows in question.

Turning your head, you looked to Jake. Jake met your eyes, smiling softly before nodding towards the hut. "Go on. I'll be there in a minute."

Nodding, you turned to Tonowari before nodding politely. Tonowari nodded, watching with a smile as Jake helped you off of his lap before you walked into the hut. Before you left his sights, however, his eyes fell to the anklet.

Jake and Tonowari stood up before edging away from the hut. As both men walked, they stood tall--each carrying himself regally.

"She likes the gift Aonung made for her?" Tonowari inquired, making Jake turn to him in confusion.

"I thought Tsireya made it."

Tonowari frowned. "Tsireya? No. She's been working on another gift for your 'ite."

"Oh," Jake replied, turning his gaze forward.

Coming to a stop, Tonowari turned to face Jake. "I am here to check on the child's state--on behalf of my mate, as well. She has experienced something beyond our comprehension."

Pressing his lips together, Jake released a breath from his nose. "Yeah. I know."

Reading Jake's emotions, the chief tilted his head. "Is she struggling?"

Jake looked away, closing his eyes for a moment before answering. "Yeah. A lot. There's a lot that she's . . . struggling to bounce back from--which is only natural. Still, though, I hate seeing her in so much pain."

"It has left her troubled?"

"Haunted. Very."

"Mm," Tonowari hummed, "Well, I will allow you to aid her with her recovery, in any way you see fit. However, do not be afraid to come to us--should you seek other methods. Ronal wishes to assist her in any way she can."

Nodding gratefully, Jake answered him. "Thank you. We will definitely keep that in mind."

The two men gripped forearms, acknowledging one another respectfully, before separating.

"Go on," Tonowari said, nodding towards the hut, "I know you are eager to return to her."

Jake scoffed lightheartedly, glancing back, not denying the chief's words.

"Sleep well."

Jake nodded. "You, as well."

. *. ⋆

hiiii my loves sorry it's been so long. the semester has started so my priorities have shifted. however, I will still write when I can because I need to visit this universe to keep myself sane. so don't fret bc I'm not abandoning you ! all my love ! I hope you enjoyed xx

Taglist : @eywas-daughter @pturnersblog @bombshe77 @faatxma @scryarchives @gamorxa @222krn @ellabellabus07 @perfectprofessorloverapricot @raefoxiegirl @vampxra @itssiaaax @tinkerbelle05 @brittclass-18 @missroro @aisylazzy @leomatsuzaki @joey-hoey @eternallyvenus @mae-is-crazy @nyotamalfoy @mashiromochi @theghostofshadows @httpsplanetmarsdotcom @cmfouatslota77 @laylasbunbunny @fanboyluvr @phxntomx11 @dumb-fawkin-bitch @ellabellabus07 @abbersreads @23victoria @sully-stick-together @uselessbutinteresting @fleursbending @missdreamofendless @prty-poisxn

#jake sully x daughter!reader #jake sully daughter #jake sully #jake sully x reader #jake sully x you #avatar way of water #Jake Sully fluff #Jake Sully x y/n #soft #protective Jake sully

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realisticpregerotica · 27 days

Text

Miss Labor Day

Summary: Offered a dubious, though life changing opportunity, Jane participates in a competition to see which mother to be can hold back the birth of their children the longest.

MDNI 18+

Content: 4.7k words, First person POV, drug induced labor, orgasmic birthing.

I was DM’ed by an old friend one night leading up to the event. They were looking for pregnant women for their event. I heard that these pre-labor day events were slowly growing, hell, some of them even made it to local radio stations.

The amount of money was life changing, not just for a newly single mother down on her luck, but this would fund every financial woe facing me and my unborn child! Sure, the events felt a little fetish-y, but anything could be. All of the events I saw were attended with parents and their young kids! What was the harm if it was PG and if I was kept anonymous?

An email and a phone interview later said I was registered to be a contestant on Labor Day Monday. It was a strain to travel in my state, but a break was what maternity leave was for, right?

The caller had me record the time and location. Slowed by my waddle, fatigue, and frequent bathroom breaks I finally found backdoor C. I had arrived less than an hour before the event.

Before I knocked, coordinators flooded out of the door and anxiously ushered me inside. They opened every door and took my bags. and pulled out all of the chairs in front of a line of mirrors all covered with ring lights that illuminated all of our attires. Above all of the wardrobes and the passing of makeup people and costume designers were the banners that symbolized the 23rd anniversary of ‘Miss Labor Day. Around were banners and a crude insignia of a company,‘The Maternity Ward’.

A pink paper bag was on the table as they left.

It made sense! these events were usually cutesy swimsuits, I expected the judges to be adorable old ladies commenting on the mothers to be. The thoughts soothed my nerves of the anxious rush inside and I thought of how the outfit would look as I took off my loose maternity wear. In private I covered myself from head to toe, trying to hide away the harsh realities of my changing body.

Immediately, my eyes dropped when I found the orange two piece. There wasn’t enough skin covered to modestly shelter my swelling curves and the outfit wasn’t fashionable enough to make the excessive amount of skin worth it. The top was clearly designed for a woman less busty than one about to breastfeed, my boobs were spilling from the sides! And the worst of the outfit came when I looked down

My stomach was large enough to hide the bottoms out of sight entirely, giving the impression that I was completely bottomless. My only reassurance that I was being covered at all was feeling the cloth hug my hips and embarrassingly growing ass. Yet, the space between my legs was cold. With my legs slightly parted from the sheer mass of my midsection, I stared at my behind in the mirror and immediately shut my legs in horror.

These bottoms left my pussy completely exposed!

My cheeks flushed from the exposure. This had to have been a mistake… A problem with the wardrobe people, yeah! I had to get it figured out, the event was ready to start at any moment.

I needed to find somebody. Quick!

The ceiling lights eclipsed over my head. I turned to see the blockage of the light and came face to face with a mountainous sphere inches away from my lips. I darted away, finding myself standing against the counter and face to face with a beautiful woman. She was large, no shorter than 200cm with a presence to match. Her dark skin and large, full hair made my heart skip a beat with a warm smile on her full lips.

“You have to be the last contestant. Nice to meetcha-” Her eyes focused on my nametag.

“-Average Jane!”

“Y-you too!” I stuttered, my face quickly flushing.

God, she was totally my type. The definition of her abs remained even after the heaviness of her belly hung between her hips, though she had the strength to hold the weight of her unborn child with stability. I swallowed “It’s a little vanilla, isn’t it?”

“Is anything about us vanilla, hun?” she smiled, letting one arm rest comfortably against her tight, heavy stomach. The paper slip around her neck read ‘Muscle Mommy’. The name definitely fit, however outdated it was. She sported a workout bra and between her exercise tights. Her dark skin was exposed with a large slit between her legs, no different from being naked, I averted my eyes and blushed at her calm disposition.

“Mufu~ Is this who we were waiting on?” Another woman spoke from the edge of the hallway. Her blonde hair was covered by a black shawl with a black gown and a white blouse. Across her collarbone above her own huge round that pushed out explicitly from her gown was a catholic cross. My eyebrow furled at the blatant contradiction, causing me to evaluate her whole appearance.

Whether it was the tightness of the blouse and the slit opening to expose her thighs, any depiction of a nun would have made this appearance sacrilege. She cocked her head, looking down at me.

“An example will certainly be made of her, shortly. That baby looks seconds away from flying out of her. The only woman larger than her-”

“Would be me!” Said a high voice with a distinct accent. A smaller girl with a comically large belly came between us carrying her stomach as she approached us. Her sun kissed skin shined with her long, jet black hair. Her neck and wrists were dawned with turquoise beads and a humble ponytail, she looked… pure. Holy even! Especially compared to the last contestant! An open midriff and a white bikini top that fit her smaller chest, her white skirt wasn’t bordered with underwear.

“My goddess has bestowed the privilege of bearing life.” Her hands hovered over her own tag with disappointment. “I am to be called Pele, but this name is a disservice to her, but I will wear her name as her devout supporter.”

From behind the rest of the cast was a woman with a quiet presence with incredibly sharp features with an incredibly round stomach that jutted from her clothing as she stretched. A Central Asian woman with indigo and gold of her loose clothing displayed her incredible flexibility in front of a full body mirror. She had beautiful, high cheekbones and almond eyes of my platonic idea of a vixen. She seemed to have been caught off guard by the sudden eyes on her. Meekly, she waved, saying something in a foreign language and pointed to her tag.

‘Acro-bab’

Muscle Mommy threw her arm around my shoulder, making me sit straight up. Maternity looked downright stunning on each of these women “Any lady who has gotten this far has a real chance of winning. This isn’t anything compared to motherhood!

Before we could interact any longer a woman wearing a headset poked her head into the fitting room. “Ladies, it’s go time!”

We were ushered behind a closed curtain and told to stand behind taped ‘x’s on the floor. The curtain lifted, letting in spotlights and exposing the dozens of people in masks. Ladies in scrubs hid out on the corners away from the sight of the audience

Though facial features couldn’t be made out articles of clothing were missing, bare legs, chests, bras. A roar of cheers erupted as the audience turned in their seats, visibly aroused at the sight of our round exposed bodies.

I wanted to cover my body. This… This was not the PG event that I had expected it to be.

A man in a tophat and a monocle stood before the crowd. He appeared far younger than his by his attire as he introduced each of us. His mid Atlantic accent was the perfect voice for radio. “Now, to our main event. With special thanks to ‘The Maternity Ward’ for sponsoring our 23rd annual ‘Miss Labor Day’ event!”

What have I got myself into?

“In celebration of your endeavor, we present you with women willing to present their endeavor as they bring new lives into the world.” I looked around me. Everybody embraced the announcement with a smile, even Acro-bab flaunted her stomach proudly towards the crowd.

“Let us celebrate you in attendance and these mothers to be when we find out who will be the 23rd annual ‘Miss Labor Day!’”

There’s no way…

Men dawned in black and white stripes blocked either side of the stage and approached each of the women with a gigantic needle into various parts of their bodies. The needles disappeared into Mommy's forearm, the contortionist’s collar, and even into Pele’s belly with no regard for the unborn residents inside.

I felt queasy remembering all of the blood I had drawn throughout my pregnancy. I leaned away from the rest of the ladies and felt the cold prick of a needle enter the side of my neck. Icy fluid poured into my bloodstream.

The proximity from my head made me feel like the drug was injected straight into my brain. It lit up my entire body. I was hot, and I needed to spread this heat to somebody else. I looked to my stomach, “Mnnn-haaaa!” I whined as I felt my body keel over to address the sudden ache in my midsection.

My heart started to pound as all of the ladies around me had similar reactors. Fluttering eyelids, a biting of the lip, and blushes being worn on our cheeks. I could keep my eyes off the muscular woman, watching her body flush and tighten with all of the orgastic sensations claiming our bodies.

It took effort for me to still my legs. I had no idea how long had passed since the injection. My whole body started to light up as I struggled to stay upright. The room was spinning around me. I was so hot, all of these eyes on me. My pussy began to ache. Even with all of the eyes on me I craved feeling my fingers inside of me to relieve the growing pressure deep within.

“A-Ah!” I gasped. My baby jabbed a foot sharply through their shrinking home, harder than every fetal kick they had ever delivered before. My uterus fought back, clamping down against my unborn child in retaliation that doubled me over.

“Jane, you doin’ alright?” Muscle Mommy asked. I went to reply, but a string of consonants flowed from my mouth instead. Unpreventable sensations that resembled the same loss of control like the middle of an orgasm.

Before I knew it a squeal escaped my tight throat I felt fluids spill from me. I clasped my thighs as much as I could like I could catch my waters as it ruptured. Amniotic fluid pooled against the wooden floor below me. Everybody's eyes fell to me

I started this race in last place…

Before there was too much dead air Miracle Baby let out a gasp as well. Her knees trembled as a steady but modest stream of water began to drip between her legs as well. The sound of chains were muffled between her legs. I wasn’t the only person who noticed. The women in pink scrubs whispered something to the announcer.

“Mnnn-haaaa!” I couldn’t silence the noises coming from my mouth. All I could imagine were my inconsolable moans in the crowd of strangers. The contractions started from my back and worked their way to consume my entire midsection. Every second with the drug forcefully rammed my baby’s head into my ridgid cervix.

As the minutes passed the other ladies' water broke as well. Muscle Mommy’s dampened her tights as they spilled as she controlled her breathing. Pele’s exploded dramatically from between her legs, making everybody flinch; followed by the petite mother. And last was Acrobab, who slowly began to leak as she rolled her hips restlessly.

“O-o-oh fuUUCK!!” I cried as I clenched my stomach. Weeks of Braxton Hicks couldn't have prepared me for the hormone induced contractions that forcibly seized my muscles. Despite the pain, the unnatural urge to please this sensation between my hips overtook me.

There was no way I could feel like this, I was giving birth!

“Ah-ah-ah. Language.” The host commented, before I could retaliate I was slammed again.

“OHHH GODDD!!” I screamed as I felt my abused birth canal spread with the rigid body of my baby. I wanted relief, something, ANYTHING to take away the pain. Through squinted eyes I saw the line of women swaying gently. All but one woman, whose struggle relieved some of the pressure pounding it’s way into my birth canal.

“D-don't use the lord's name in vain.” Miracle Babe scolded. She wasn’t doing any better than I was. Her face was pale white as it dripped with sweat.

A painful contraction overtook her. The blond woman dropped to her knees and made her headdress fall. A throaty growl sounded from her throat as she held her thigh up and bore down with all of her might. The nurses whispered amongst each other and then to the officials while her teeth gnashed with the struggle of childbirth.

Audience members whispered as their strokes between their legs slowed. In front of the audience wasn’t her bare sex, but a strip of black leather that tightly wrapped around her.

The officials circled around her and threw her cheap dress over her sore, red stomach.

A leather belt bulged horrifically between her legs. There was tension as she was overwhelmed by another contraction. “UHHHHNNNNGGGHH!!!!” She screamed between clenched teeth. The belt trembled, fighting against her body's desire to expel the child inside of her stomach.

“Goodness, that must be a chastity belt. A ‘Miss Labor Day’ first!” The announcer sounded.

“That’s a blatant violation of the rules. With less excuses than, well, a pregnant nun!”

Nurses piled between her legs with scissors in their hands. Miracle Babe tried to crawl away, kicking her legs while overwhelmed by her contractions.

“P-please, not here, not now! It’s gonna come out!!'' she begged as they got between her legs. The trauma shears completed their cut The belt was snipped as Miracle Babe’s vagina was exposed. She was tattooed with tally marks above her upper thigh. Lord could only imagine what the count was. The ink took a backseat to the glistening crown embedded between her legs, and it was only getting bigger.

I watched her eyes grow wide.

“AAAAANNNNH!!! NOOOOO-!” she screamed as her hole unnaturally exploded into a full crown. She no longer had any control over her body. The drug demanded her baby would be born. Her back arched as she surrendered to the birthing drugs.

“HNNNNNNNNGGGGGHHHH!!!” The shoulder of the fake nun’s baby slipped free from their mother’s opening as the rest of the body hit the hard wood with a wet thud where she stood. The umbilical cord hung from her pussy to the floor where her baby wailed. Miracle Babe fell flat on her back with her legs opened towards the audience. Her eyes shot into the back of her head and her tongue shot out. Her poor baby squirmed between the legs of their incapacitated mother as the midwives pressed stethoscopes into the blonde woman’s stomach and took care of the child.

For the first time since the drug was injected into me I felt my body go limp with shock. There was a real baby, a real child from a long pregnancy that was carried by a woman whose name I didn’t even know. They really let her baby be born on stage!

“What an embarrassment to her faith.” Pele uttered with closed eyes. She sat cross legged, allowing the audience to gaze between her legs. Through the tightest slit in her vulva there was the shape of a head between her legs. Suddenly, she went quiet, entering a trance-like state of controlled inhales and exhales. It was as if she wasn’t resisting the drugs at all!

“Hoo… Hoo…” Acro-bab's chest began to heave. Before her beautiful face allowed her body to progress another moment for her labor her forearms fell to the floor and she arched her back.

My heart started to race seeing her shape in that downward facing position. Her lean body wore her appealingly disproportionate curves beautifully. Her breathy moans were eye-catching as her belly formed a polygon with every contraction. Through the power of gravity her baby was held in.

The other women were slowly affected as I writhed with agony on the floor. I tried my hardest to keep my knees clenched together. My thighs sandwiched themselves together

“Tight… Competition” Muscle Mommy said. I saw the corner of her lip twitch as her attention was pulled from her. I watched her muscular midsection seize with tremendous force. The uncontrollable contraction of all of her muscles bearing down to birth her child. “U-ung…” She groaned, as finally she was forced to a knee on the ground She spaced off into the distance to fight the urges of her body.

The competitor who was worse for wear had the head of an infant comfortably embedded between her legs. Pele kept her legs splayed open as she arched her back, with high pitched pants as she listened to her body’s desire to birth her child. An infant much smaller than the indication of her stomach peeked under her skirt.

She looked so peaceful, like she had prepared her entire life for this. The urgency of competition seemed completely lost on her.

Her chest arched towards the sky “Mnnnhhhhaaaa~!” She moaned with one final push, welcoming her child. The baby entered the world gently against the wooden surface.

“Pele has been eliminated!” The host announced. The young woman blinked away lusty cloudiness while she panted softly. Unbothered, she crawled over to her child and cradled them in their arms. She kissed her child’s head and let them latch to her breast whispering foggily with a satisfied smile.

Doulas surrounded her. The eyes of the woman carrying the stethoscope went wide, immediately rushing towards the announcer.

Though her womb had been emptied her stomach still laid especially round. The tiny woman drew a long breath, and with an exhale another pop of fluids gushed from between her thighs

“My-my folks! Pele has another child making their arrival today! She’s still in the competition.”. No wonder she was so smug! There was a backup baby inside of her!

With the other three ladies standing strong I felt so pathetic as I kicked against the floor. Every breath was agony. With every oxytocin induced contraction I could feel the head pound my cervix into painful dilation. I wasn’t sure if it was thousands of years of evolution that forced me to open my legs or the gigantic fucking head that just began to spread my lips apart.

As I looked to my side I saw the lean, powerful legs of the Acro-bab splayed open from her upside down position. Her face was red and sweaty, her grit teeth and tears made it clear she couldn’t hold her unbreakable position for long. The head of her baby emerged from the split between her legs.

I could see desperation in her eyes for a moment before she took a deep breath and closed her eyes.

In an amazing display of control she sprawled her legs straight into a handstand, maintaining a perfect arch to hold her child upside down into her stomach. I imagined all of that weight and pressure fighting against gravity. I could imagine the rigid walls of her uterus tied in a compact knot as the crowning head receded back into her lips

“OWWWW, FUCK!” I screamed. I clutched my stomach as I felt something round press against my opening into the dry air. My shaky hands reached between my legs to feel the wet orb forcing my hips apart. My baby was being born. I couldn’t hold back much longer!

Then, I heard a moan from my left.

“Unnnngggghhhh!” She groaned with the loss of control. All the energy of her body was sapped by the drug. Her chest heaved up and down as hair fought to get into her lungs. The crown emerged from her skyward facing gash.

In her moment of complacency, Acro-bab slipped. Her legs dipped behind her head as her infant slid out cartoonishly to the side of her head. Her muscles relaxed, and her face relaxed into the same feeling of euphoria that Miracle Babe wore. She looked so ecstatic to finally be done with such a situation and the act of pregnancy. I envied her…

But now there were only two other competitors.

My breasts grew sore at the sound of Pele's baby coo softly. In an instant, Muscle Mommy and I knew what needed to be done.

Pele flinched as she leaned into the Muscle Mommy. “Oh, Goddess!” She pleaded as she arched into her competitor. Her foggy eyes were adorable as she continued to labor.

My hands found her lower belly. Fuck, she was beautiful. Not just for a woman in labor. But divine, like her body was made to deliver children as the second head began to peak towards me.

The area that had already been stimulated by the drugs and her first child. The uncontrollable shift in her muscles as another contraction was induced. “Pushhhh.” Just then, I felt my own contraction begin to bind my abdomen again. My hand dipped between her legs as I supported my weight around the beautiful tan skin of her belly.

“Goddess… Thank you…” she moaned quietly under her breath. Her eyes were barely cracked open. Her mind was outside of this plane; she allowed herself to enjoy every side effect of the drug. “I am humbled to give life in this bliss, Goddess…” I saw Muscle Mommy’s eye twinge from the feeling of the smaller woman’s body lay into her for support.

“Nnnhhhhgggggggg!!!” I moaned, feeling my baby’s head open into the world. I could feel my ether region split towards the crowd even through the resistance of my fingers as the skin of my entrance burned for the widest portion of my baby’s head.

But Pele was closer. She pushed all of her tiny body’s weight into her. Her little moans were adorable, the little sliver of a second hairy head spread her lips open. I could feel the muscles of her petite waist tighten as her tummy squeezed its round from out between her legs.

The sound of all three of our moans overlapped as we tried to hold back our labor. All except for Pele. Her voice peaked and gave one final push. The head in my hands popped with a gush around the ears. Her pussy clung onto the child, feeling every surface with a loud groan. Her modestly sized infant slid into my hands. Pele’s stomach finally deflated with a kiss of adorable postpartum pudge.

With Pele’s unconscious body between us. Muscle Mommy stared at me holding Pele’s baby. Her gaze was kind, but she knew she was firmly in the lead.

“May the best mommy win.” She winked as the young mother and her babies were assisted off stage.

Her body distracted me, her perfectly sculpted figure and all of her tight, muscular curves. I could only imagine how powerful the baby inside of her was. Her belly sat comfortably between her legs, allowing her baby’s head to be comfortably held into her pelvis.

I couldn’t move, my legs were forced open by my baby’s head. With every breath it felt like my child’s body would stretch me to capacity and I would finally give birth. She had amazing control over her pelvic floor. Her abs rolled in a display of strength that I only wished I could hold.

One more contraction overtook my body from my spine to my belly button. The muscles of my tired uterus guided my baby to my opening. “It’s coming!” I screamed. My pussy burned as I crowned. My baby’s head stretched me horrifically, I could feel my tight opening burn to accommodate the head.

“UNNNGGHHHH!!” I snarled through teary eyes and grit teeth. Muscle Mommy was before me, controlling her breathing while the head of her child had just started to peek through while I could feel my baby’s head dangle from the back.

My cheek hit the floor in defeat.

I submitted. I drew air into my chest and forced all of my strength into my belly. My baby’s body didn’t budge. I moved my heavy legs further apart, feeling the head of my partially birthed child dampen my thighs and arched my back to give into my body’s violent urge to deliver my child.

“URRRRRRNNNNGGGGHHH!!!” I cried with grit teeth, enough to make my swollen body tremble with the effort. All of the pressure transferred directly to my baby's shoulder, caught uncomfortably into my pelvis. My baby didn’t budge…

“A-aha!” I heard my voice fill the room. I didn’t even recognize my own voice.

“AHAAHAHAHAHA!!” My powerful laughs shook my body, and even as my heavily pregnant body rumbled my baby’s shoulders didn’t budge.

“It’s stuck!” I laughed maniacally. No matter what I did my baby was stuck! The drama of the moment took hold of me. The prize, the competition, all social convection and inhibitions crumbled in the time it took for me to deliver the rest of my child. For a moment, nothing else mattered! I wasn’t guaranteed a damn thing, and I was going to enjoy these final moments before I became a mother.

I closed the distance between myself and the muscular woman. I was close enough to see. I pulled her into my body and into a kiss with all of the pent up feelings for the beautiful mother before me.

“J-Jane?” She asked as I crawled towards her with a blush and heavy breaths. I was within arms length before I reached out, holding her face and running my fingers through her hair. “You’re so pretty.”

The drug had been taking a toll on her too as she accepted my kiss. Her plush lips made me want to sink my hands into her laboring body as I made out with her. Muscle Mommy’s belly was so gigantic and as hard as steel, but under my fingertips I could feel those muscles surrender. “Mmmfff!” She cried under my lips. She drew deep breaths that were stifled by a deep kiss against her neck.

I could feel her powerful abs bear down with the pressure. All of her weight pressed into my stomach. I could feel the fruits of her pregnancy squeeze me. Her hungry hips thrusted into my hands while I played with her opening pussy

Our tongues wrapped around each other and I could feel her face tighten with effort. “MMMMNNNNFFFFGHHHH!!”

I stroked her face as the strong woman melted into a maternal puddle in my arms. I held her baby’s head, feeling the power behind her final push from on top of my body. From against my womb I felt her baby exit as she, too, fell limp against my body.

Her baby laid between our legs.

“Ladies and gentleman, with a massive upset, your winner of the 23rd official Miss Labor Day- Average Jane! ” More midwives rolled in with a gurney and towels to assist Muscle Mommy off of the floor. The announcer approached me with a trophy and a gigantic check. But I was preoccupied .

The shutter of cameras caught me with my back on the floor with a trophy hoisted in my arms. I toyed with my clit with a midwife on either side of me, aware to keep myself open for the money shot.

With the final pulse of the drug my child’s shoulder was freed by the assisting hands around me. “OUUUUGGHHHHHH!!” My legs flew into the air, the drug peaked induced my climax and the birth of my child as an orgasm tore through my entire body. The primal sensation of labor peaked as my baby’s shoulder exploded from between my legs.

I heard my child cry right beside me as nurses assisted me off the stage. I knew my life had changed forever when I began to wonder how many times I would be Miss Labor Day.

#preg kink #maiesiophilia #pregnant #birth kink #birth #birth fic #preg #pregblr

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randomshitwhore · 2 years

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Affirmative Ghost(rider)

word count:2.5k

pairing: ghost x f!reader

summary: ghost made a promise to you on your mission to retrieve a flash drive, and he intends to keep it...

warnings: contains smut(its very bad so my apologizes),[unprotected sex, ghost being slightly dominate and a bottom for my own personal enjoyment LMAO, fingering]

AN: thank you all so much for all the love on Negative Ghost(rider), you guys have made it the most popular post on my page ever, possibly the top post on any of the ghost/Simon Riley hashtags! words can't express how much it truly means to me that you all enjoyed it! so please enjoy part two, Affirmative Ghost(rider). :)

Your mission was a success. You had successfully retrieved the flash drive and caught Hassan in the process. You boarded back onto the chopper with Soap and Ghost, greeted and congratulated by your superiors. You opened the flash drive and looked over the files with Ghost, him hovering just over your shoulder.

“You gonna stick to your word and keep your promise?”You asked, your voice just barely above a whisper. “You seriously asking that question now Eclipse?”Ghost countered, letting his eye burn into the side of your head. “Yes, now answer my question Lieutenant.” You said, skim-reading the files. “I told you, yes. Now copy those files and update me or Soap when you are finished, understood private?”He whisper-ordered, so as not to attract the attention of his and your superiors.

“Yes”

“Yes, what?”

“Yes, sir.”

You walked off the airspace and into the base, praised by Price for your bravery and attitude on your first mission, which you knew was total bullshit on your end. You were scared shitless, trying not to cry, and constantly complained about the amount of time you hung off the side of the building; but he didn’t need to know that.

“Thank you, sir” You smiled warmly, shaking his hand with a firm grip. He returned a warm smile to you. “I hope the gentlemen behind you are treating you well?”Price asked shooting a look to Soap and Ghost, standing behind you at a rest position. “Yes sir. They treat me wonderfully.” You answered, shooting a caring look at both of them. It was true. Those two treated you like gold; always helping you when you asked. It had been that way since you had first started training with them privately; a personal request from Ghost, but that was something you didn’t know.

“Ghost, I feel like I’m not doing this right..”You said, a gun butt placed in between your ribs and armpit. “That’s because you’re not holding it right Y/N,” Simon said, walking over to you and readjusting it to its correct position; the stock to your cheek first and then back to your shoulder. “You hold it like you just did, your ass would be on the ground” Soap laughed, monitoring a short distance away. Ghost took his boot and gently swept your feet apart to fix your stance. “Dont hold it too tight, and not too loose and when you feel ready, pull the trigger, got it?”Simon asked, his masked face just barely brushing against yours.

“Yes, sir” You answered, tightening your grip slighting. “She just call you sir Simon?”Soap asked, rocking back onto his heels and off the fence he was resting on. “Yes, Johnny now zip-” He started but was interrupted by the blast from your gun firing onto the target; just barely outside the first circle near the bullseye.

“Oh my god, I hit it! Ugh, I was so close to the bullseye too!”You said, setting the gun down and turning around to them with a huge smile on your face. “Goddamn, nice shot Y/N!”John said, honestly amazed at your shooting skills. “Did I do good, Simon?”You asked, your smile still plastered onto your face. “Affirmative was a very good shot” He answered. “What does that word mean? Affirmative?”You asked, looking at Soap. “Just his way of saying yes Y/N, he doesn’t act like a normal human being and just says yes or no. It’s Negative or Affirmative, nothing else” Soap answered, just laughing and shaking his head. You let out an amused noise, looking back at Ghost. Although you couldn’t see it, he slowly spread a smile across his face.

You talked with Price a little longer after he released Soap and Ghost back to their barracks about the rest of the mission; going over and encoding files before he sent you off to your barrick. You walked quietly across the base to your barrack until your phone buzzed in your pocket.

New Message from Lt. Ghost

You slid your phone open and tapped on the message.

My barrack hall. 10 minutes.

You clicked your phone off and turned on your heel to Simons’s barrick. You could feel your heart pounding against your chest. Sure, you had seen his face before. You both knew that your relationship was evolving, and you both knew that your relationship was on the border of being unprofessional, at least it would be if you were caught. You reached his barrick around the eight-minute mark and slowly turned the knob. You walked down a long hallway and stopped right in front of his room. You knocked softly on the door to be met with his voice.

“It’s open”

You turned the knob and entered the room. You pressed the door shut with your back, your hand still wrapped around the door knob. You looked up to see him in his black camo army pants, a form-fitting black muscle shirt, and of course; his mask. You could see his skin through the eye holes of his mask, none of his black eyeshadow was present.

“Hi” You whispered, as he walked to you closing the space in between you. “Hello” He returned, now practically pinning you into a corner against the door. He reached his hand just past your waist to push the lock into place. “We dont want any interruptions, now do we?”

You sucked your bottom lip in between your teeth and shook your head no. You watched as his fingers wrapped around the bottom of his mask. “Hey, you promised me..”You pouted. He held his hands up in the air and placed them behind his back. “Apologizes. Please, continue.”He said. You gently smiled as your fingers lifted his mask to show his plump lips; curved into a small smile.

You gently traced the outline of his lips, slowly taking in his features. “What’s your next course of action, private?” He asked, his hands still in place behind his back. You pulled him closer to you, your lips just barely touching. “Permission to engage, Lieutenant?”You purred, making direct eye contact with him. You felt his smile grow wider against your lips. “Permission granted,” He answered. You pressed your lips against him, wrapping an arm around the back of his neck. You felt him shift and felt his hands fall onto your waist, grinding his hips into yours.

This was the most beautiful thing about your relationship; nobody knew it had been going on for over a year and a half, you were honestly still shocked no one thought to ask questions, but you honestly were happy they didn’t. You and Him were able to give looks that only you two knew, and say something only you could understand. He loved that he wasn’t being pressed by questions about what you were going to do when you and he went out together; just saying you were going over plans for the next mission. You both could relax, knowing you were safe in each other presence.

You took your hand wrapped around his neck and removed the rest of his mask, tossing somewhere across the room. You shifted your weight, leading him to his bed; pushing him down. He looked up at you, his eyes dark; filled with lust. You placed yourself on top of him, pressing your lips to the line of his jaw. His hand slipped up the back of your shirt, rubbing his rough hands up your back. You trailed your lips down to his neck, leaving love marks along the way. Lucky thing he has a mask, imagine trying to explain those to your superiors.

“Y/N..” He said, letting a small low-pitched whine out of his mouth. You reached the base of his neck, forcing him gently down onto the bed. “Simon..”You teased, edging him on. “You look so beautiful from this angle,” He said, tucking a piece of hair behind your ear. You flashed him a smile that was quickly replaced by your eyes shooting wide open, him flipping you over; putting him on top.

“But you look even better from this one” He whispered, his lips grazing the bottom of your ear; sending a chill down your spine. He placed his lips on your neck, leaving as many marks as he could; he didn’t leave them too deep. He’s a gentleman after all.

You pushed your hips up and into his, wanting to get even the littlest amount of friction. His lips molded into a smile on your neck, letting his hand trail down your side and to your cargo pants. His hand took two quick pinches to unbutton them and slip his hand down. “Permission to engage?”He teased, using your line from earlier. You let out a small laugh.

“Affirmative ghost rider, permission to engage,” You said, taunting with your line from earlier in the night. He let out a laugh into your ear. “You’re never going to let me hear the end of that, are you?”He said, his free hand brushing against your ribs. “Negati-Oh” You started but were interrupted by his digits slipping into your pussy.

You bit your lip to keep a moan from coming out, pressing your hand over your mouth as an extra precaution. You could feel his fingers moving in and out of you as you fought to not let him hear how much you were enjoying it. You felt his hand wrap around your wrist and pull it away from your mouth, letting a small moan escape your lips. “Doesn’t that feel better, darling?” He said, planting a kiss against your lips. You could feel your stomach tighten with every pump of his fingers. “Si-imon, I’m gonna…Oh my god,” You moan, your hand gripping his bicep with your palm as you felt your eye roll to the back of your head. “Let go Y/N, let it out” He whispered in your ear, placing a new mark onto your neck, and that was enough to send you over the edge. You felt yourself tighten around his fingers and let your nails dig deeper into his bicep as you let yourself go underneath his fingers.

You looked down at him to watch him slip his muscle shirt slowly off his body. You took the shape of his toned torso, curves, and scars; his biggest insecurity but the thing you loved most about him. You took your fingers and traced one on his waist. He had told you he got that one trying to save you from the apartment complex you were held hostage in.

He watched your hands smooth over his stomach, nothing but pure love and admiration behind your eyes. “You're so beautiful..”You breathed out as he sat back on the balls of his feet to slide your cargo pants and own shirt off, not breaking eye contact. He smiled warmly at you. Although he never admits it, and probably never will, he loves it when you call him beautiful.

You dragged your hand down to his cargo pants and looped a finger into his belt loop, gently brushing your fingers against his own arousal. His breath hitched at your fingers brushed back and forward against him. He narrowed his eye at you, trying to figure out what your next plan of action was. You looked him in the eye as you warped the rest of your fingers quickly around his belt loop and yanked hard on them, pulling him down to your level and placing yourself on top of him.

“Tell me I look pretty from this angle again,” You said, your hands fidgeting with his belt loop. “You look pretty from this angle..”He breathed out, taking in the swollen shape of your breasts. “Just pretty?”You teased, lifting yourself up slightly to slide his cargos off; leaving him only in his boxers. “Gorgeous, Amazing, Breathtaking…”He named as you placed yourself back on top of him.

"Do you think you deserve this after leaving me outside in the cold?" You said, playing with the waistband of his boxers. You could feel him squirming underneath you, wanting you to touch him; practically on the verge of begging. You loved seeing him helpless underneath you. It gave you a sense of power. “No," He weakly confessed, sliding his hands back and forth on your thighs. “How much do you want this?”You asked, edging him on. “So bad..”He answer quickly, his hands squeezing into your thighs as you dragged his boxers down to his own thighs.

“Beg." "Please,"

“Please what?”

“Please ma’am,” He said, practically almost moaning it out. He was so weak under your touch and he knew it too. Again, he would never admit it, but he loved seeing you take control. He loved the way you felt as you were in control.

A blunt pressure stole the air from his lungs when you finally sank onto him, his cock spreading you wide open. He was so glad you were on the pill; it let him feel every part of you. Your throat let out a small whine, his fingers digging into the side of your hips, leaving you listening to his satisfied grunting. “Holy fucking..”He breathed out, looking up at you through his eyelashes. He could see a shit-eating grin on your face, just watching him unfurl underneath you.

You started to rock your hips back and forth gently, making your pace faster with each thrust. You watched as Simon became pussy drunk completely under you; that sight brought a smile to your face. Your nails scratched down on his tattooed arm and your back arched in response as you heard possibly the most pornographic moan escape his lips.

He watched as you continued to thrust yourself into him at a brutal, punishing pace, leaving him clinging to you helplessly, letting the moans escaping his mouth grow louder with every thrust. “You're such a...Oh, my fucking..” You moaned out, tangling your hand with his own, watching his eyes roll into the back of his head. You vaguely heard him curse out under his breath, his own end approaching much faster than he wanted. “You wanna cum, pretty boy?”You breathed out, feeling your own stomach beginning to tighten. He nodded in compliance, unable to form a coherent sentence. “Together, okay?”You said, watching him nod back again.

Both your hands gripped onto each other's bodies as you both came to your release. His hands definitely left a bruise from how tight they were gripping onto your hips. He could feel his back arching off the bed, your name leaving his mouth at least ten times, riding out his high. You watched as a smile spread across his face once he started coming down from his high, causing you to laugh a little.

“What?”He said, the smile still plastered across his face. You just shocked your head and laughed. “Just you being absolutely in love with me, I know that smile,” You said sliding out of him, laying down, and planting a kiss onto his swollen lips. He snaked his arms around your waist, pulling him closer to you. “I love you,” He said, placing a kiss on your ear. “I love you too, sweaty man” You giggled, wiping away the sweat on his forehead and planting a kiss there before he fell into a deep sleep on your chest.

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my-naughty-writings-and-musings · 1 year

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Girl your writing style is AMAZING OH MY GOD-I’ve been starving for crumbs of Earthspark Bumblebee-could I request some fun time between the bot and a Gn! Human? Specifically Bumblebee teasing his partner about how much their fondness of his height and size?

Again love your work-wish you the best!

Awww thank you so much!! I had a very long day and whipped up this short and sweet little something to wrap it up, I really hope you like it!

It wasn't fair how little he had to try to rile you up.

Something about how powerful his frame felt when he moved in close to your squishy organic body reduced you to a puddle of need every time, and he needed only scoop you up in his servos for a rapid lift to his shoulders to have you swooning over his height.

That wasn't even to mention how you shuddered when his much larger form eclipsed you in shadow, how the rev of his powerful engine sent your heart fluttering, or how often your eyes drifted to his codpiece as you reminisced over just how much he was packing underneath...

Today he'd made his move early, inviting you out for a walk through the woods and eagerly lifting you to his shoulders after you'd agreed. It was only after the house was long behind you both that he'd asked if you wanted to visit the deeper and more private parts of the forest for a change. You'd known exactly what he was getting at, but with his frame so close to your needy body you'd been unable to resist. Your submission to his seduction had him purring with satisfaction all the way to your favorite hidden clearing.

A bed of soft grass and moss met your back as he laid you down beneath his kneeling frame, your tiny form limp and utterly helpless in his grip as he maneuvered you however he pleased. Blocking out the sun above, he bent down to give you a kiss, cupping half your body with one servo just to emphasize how tiny you were. You moaned into the kiss and brought your hands to his chest, sliding your fingertips over the smooth metal of his armor and relishing in the raw power you felt rumbling beneath. From the purr of his engine to the hum of his spark, the mech had strength like few earthlings could imagine, but that you'd experienced in ways that would make the majority of your species blush.

Taking his time now that he had you alone, Bumblebee allowed you to whine as he pulled away from your lips, his amused chuckles humming through you as he carefully nibbled down your jaw and into the crook of your neck, grazing his dentae over the tender skin in a loose love bite. Your helpless keen of arousal made his engine rev against you, the warm rush of his increasingly desperate vents stirring the grass around you in waves. The force of his desire was strong enough to be tangible in the very air, and knowing it was because of you only made your desperation all the more intense. Grabbing his chest, you tried in vain to push him further down your body.

"Not yet." he tut tutted, removing his dentae from your neck just to kiss it. Arching into the touch with a whine of open desperation, you tried to scootch upwards to bring your lower regions closer to his mouth, but a servo gently pinning you over your chest held you in place. He smiled with desire and affection as you squirmed against his grip.

"Bee, stop being a jerk!" you cried with a deeply unsatisfied pout. It wasn't fair how easily he riled you up, but it was even worse how often he made you wait.

Dropping his mouth to your collarbone and leaving a series of kisses down your front, he let you enjoy the view of his smug grin in between every passionate peck, so pleased with himself his voice sounded like a purr. "You don't have to frag me."

"But I want to!" you huffed in annoyance, making him laugh in more genuine amusement.

"It's adorable how badly you want me." he teased with a kiss to your forehead, being purposefully chaste to drive you ever more wild. You'd have screamed if he wasn't so good at what he did.

An impatient keen was replaced by a moan when he finally nosed his way between your legs, allowing you to grind your crotch against his lips just in time for him to hum against you. Moaning openly in encouragement, you clung to his horns for support, a move that really got him revved up. A growl of desire between your legs had you fumbling for the zipper, fingers struggling to get a grip in your lusty haze. If you took too long it wasn't unlikely that he'd pull them off you in pieces, but at that moment you couldn't have cared less, so utterly desperate for release only he could provide you would have happily torn your own clothes off.

No one who'd experienced the passion of a very powerful and very much in love mech could have blamed you.

#valveplug #transformers #lemon #maccadam #robot x human relations #self insert #human reader #bumblebee x reader #bumblebee #x reader #nsfw////#tf earthspark #transformers earthspark #earthspark #tf #tfe #tfes #gender neutral reader

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fanaticsnail · 11 months

Text

You Kissed the Clown? Part 13

Oh, my darlings. Crying, screaming, throwing up, drinking. I simply couldn't wait any longer

Word Count: 5,690

Part 12 here, Part 14 to come. Masterlist here in the interim.

Warnings: mention of a bomb/explosives, self harm (Nami)

Destruction.

Complete and utter desolation and devastation is what you were greeted with as you and the other four members of the Straw-Hat crew ventured into Tangerine-Town. Houses smouldering, upturned vendor carriages with not a soul in sight: fishmen nor other humanoid.

Shock fell upon the features of the Straw-Hat’s, comments on the sights that lie before you echo within the chasms of your mind as your mouth hung agape.

“Arlong did this,” your Captain uttered darkly, his eyes narrowing in hardened resolve. You drew your sights to fall on the back of his straw hat, a snarl peaking its way to the side of your upper lip as to express your displeasure.

“Hey, Shit-Hat,” Buggy’s decapitated head called from its place resting against Sanji’s hip from within a canvas satchel hanging loosely from his shoulder, “I think we can all agree that Arlong is a bad fish, but why don’t we quit lolly-gagging and get my body back?”

“Pipe down in there,” Sanji ordered the shrouded head, rolling his eyes at the comment.

“Or what?” Buggy taunted from within the bag, “you gonna whip me up a soufflé?”

Sanji turned to Usopp and muttered to him, “why don’t you take him for a while?”

“Ooh, new guy carries the clown-head,” Usopp commented, his hands raising themselves defensively to pass up the opportunity on being Buggy’s handler for the day.

You took a few steps closer to one of the ransacked houses, noticing a small object twinkled at you within the rays of the sunlight eclipsed by cloud-cover. Crouching down to examine the object, you stooped down to clasp it in your hands. Turning it over in your palms and smoothing the dirt away from its rough exterior, you found it to be a dart of some kind; feathered at the end with a sharpened brass tip tapering into a piercing point.

“Keep up, Tinkerer,” the green haired swordsman called to you, “can’t have you getting too far.”

Rolling the dart over in your hands once more, fury washed over your senses as the world began to fall away from your vision. You had but one focus, and one focus only: destroy Arlong and lay waste to his legion of fishmen.

“Aye, sir,” you spat in return, much to the shock of Zoro at the darkness in your tone.

Keeping up pace with your crew, your vision returned to you as your body brought yourself before a large gathering of people collecting a tribute into a small wooden chest.

“Do we have time to get some more?” a woman asked from the crowd, clasping her chest to stabilise her panicked words.

“No,” a voice called, the crowd parting to reveal your orange-haired companion, “you don’t.” She stalked like a predator hunting their prey into the crowd and made to collect the box from the leader of the town.

“Nami,” you whispered, mouth slightly agape at the sight. Zoro held his hand against the chest of your Captain to restrain him from sprinting over to your former navigator and confront her.

A blue-haired woman in the crowd murmured something to your former companion and spat at her feet in disgust, before turning and walking away from the gathering of people. Luffy’s eyes trailed the woman as her form retreated into several of the lined houses and swiftly away from your vision.

Looking over again to the trail of destruction and tuning out your surroundings, a small whisper of divinity eclipsed your mind. Your sights did not teeter back to interact with your orange-haired companion as she engaged your captain with a hardened taunt and threats of great harm falling upon you all.

Clarity: true and vengeful struck like lightning into your mind as untested and untrialled knowledge enchanted your tinkerer thoughts. You could barely feel the tug on your wrist by your sword-wielding companion as he led you, glassy eyed, throughout the road and down towards the direction of the blue haired woman.

Potassium nitrate. Charcoal. Sulphur. Clay. Cogs. Gold. Copper. Tubing. Piping. These thoughts eclipsed your thought as you absent-mindedly began searching your tinkerer’s pouch for your tools and any of the items you prior thought to include.

As your team entered into the last house down tangerine grove, Zoro relinquished his grasp on your wrist as you were brought to a halt.

“You okay?” he asked in front of you. Your eyes remained unblinking in their focus as you began assembling your items within your fingertips. Barely again processing the rough, calloused hands clasping your shoulders to shake you from your thoughts, you finally graced your eyes upwards; breaking from their glazed state.

“Where’d you go?” he whispered to you in question, “you didn’t respond when Luffy spoke to you. That’s not like you.”

You sighed out a low, rumbly sound through your chest; “leave me here.”

“What?” he uttered, mimicking your same dark tone.

“I cannot fight, Zoro,” you growled, “both you and the clown confirmed that. What was it you said? I can’t kiss my way out of this one,” the last comment you mimicked in Zoro’s tone, laughing a cynical and depressed laugh afterwards.

“Not only did the fishmen torture the man I’ve come to love,” you began darkly, turning your sights back to the town, “but they’ve brought pain and destruction on this town and several towns over.”

Zoro released his grasp from your shoulders.

“What are you saying?” he asked with a deep frown.

“I’m saying it’s not enough,” you sighed before lowering your tone, “I’m not enough. I can’t do what you do.”

“Nobody is asking you to,” Zoro’s tone lightened slightly, bringing you back to fix your vision into his eyes, “you’re a tinkerer, not a fighter.”

“That’s right,” your eyes glimmered with an unnerving twinkle, “I am a tinkerer.”

You began clasping at your pouch again and sunk onto your knees on the wooden floor outside the window of the wooden cabin; emptying the contents on the wooden floorboards under the shelter of external roofing.

“What are you doing?” Zoro asked you, his tone more cautionary than questioning.

You laughed again in a manic sort of way, remaining your fixed gaze holding to the items on the floor before you; “tinkering.”

Zoro, holding his arms out defensively chose to disengage from the conversation; leaving you to rejoin his companions within the cabin. As much as you truly desired to join with your crew inside, your true goal was to currently muster enough energy fuelled by vengeance to create something of chaos, destruction and mayhem rolled into one.

The day became eclipsed by the setting sun as you worked tirelessly on the ground in front of you; pouring powder into vials, screwing cogs against brass bolts, heating a flaming rod of solder and joining pieces together to firmly fix them in place. The scent of charred metal permeated along the wooden perimeter as fumes turned to smoke and ash before you.

“It is done,” you uttered to yourself, eyes wide and a sinister smile befalling your senses.

Bringing your shaky hands to the object you had created, you grasped it within your fingertips after securing a timing mechanism to the face of the object. You rose to your feet, feeling a numbness come over your thighs and calves from kneeling so intensely against the floor for so long. You cringed a little at the pain, soothing over your aching thighs by massaging and kneading the flesh under your palms and fingertips. You thumped your fist against your right thigh before quietly standing uprights; opening the door to welcome the retreating form of your captain followed closely by his first-mate.

Stepping aside from the doorframe and bringing your gaze to fall on the ground, you allowed them to exit the house and leave to be in solitude with a polite bow.

While remaining in the cover of external darkness, a quiet voice began echoing a single word repetitively. As you craned your ear to hear what it was saying, your body jolted as you were frightened by a sudden loud, vocal: “BOOM!”

“Buggy,” you thought to yourself, smiling a little as you made your entrance into the building.

“Yeah,” the blue-haired woman sighed, “I’m gonna go get some air.”

Hushed conversation resumed between Usopp with Buggy’s decapitated head perched atop the blue-haired woman’s dining room table. You were not able to quite make out the words from your position outside of the house, so you began to make your way into the dining room to meet with your remaining crew.

“Ah, screw you guys!” Buggy yelled from his position on the table, “Arlong’s gonna bite the shit out of you anyway.”

You halted your steps, coming to situate yourself next to Sanji and out of view of Usopp and the clown-captain as he continued relaying; “You know you don’t stand a chance against him and his army.”

“And you dumb pieces of garbage,” he continued relaying, prompting Sanji to move from your side and collect a tangerine in his right hand, “you ain’t gonna do anything against that stupid-,”

Sanji moved to thrust the orange, cylindrical citrus into the open mouth of the clown, uttering: “new guy shuts up the clown head,” with a light smirk.

Buggy began coughing and sputtering against the intruding object thrust between his teeth. You creased your eyebrows and shook your head in disapproval at him, a smile peaking at the corner of your lips when his eyes fell on your form.

“Mmf ner dngre der, frner?” he asked you in a soft tone, his eyes softening in question.

You flittered your gaze to Sanji, quirking your eyebrow up to him and gesturing with your chin at Buggy’s head. He held his hands up defensively before wordlessly extending his arm out to usher you to claim the object of everyone’s unease and spirit it away from the common area.

You shook your head, moving to place down the brass object in your hand to rest it beside Usopp’s tools.

“It seems we’ve got very similar ideas,” you said, gesturing down to the items Usopp was cradling in his hands.

“Panic?” Usopp questioned you, eyes wide in desperation.

You laughed at his comment before gesturing to the brass object you placed atop the table, correcting him: “explosives.”

Both the eyes of Buggy and Usopp’s bulged within their sockets at how abrasive your off-handed comment was, before their sights were turned to the proximity of the large brass object on the table.

“What’s the range on that thing?” Usopp asked, reaching to touch the object before apprehensively wincing away from it, “is it active?”

“Only when I want it to be,” you chuckled to yourself mainly, “I’ve rigged a timer to a detonator.”

“What’s it for? You going to kill Arlong with that thing?” Usopp asked frantically.

“I don’t know what it’s for,” you shrugged a little, patting his shoulder lightly, “but I know what it does.”

Turning your smiling eyes to meet with a nervous-looking Buggy once more, you gestured your right hand out to him as to wordlessly ask him if he would allow you to lift his head from the table. He immediately began jumping upwards at the notion of leaving the company currently present to join with you in a more intimate area of the surroundings.

Giggling, you placed your hands gently against his jaw and caressed your hands gently to reach under his decapitated neck to raise him upwards to you. You nodded politely to Usopp as the gagged clown began shaking in delight in your arms. Turning around towards the kitchen, you nodded again to dismiss yourself from the chef in the room; an action he reciprocated with a smile.

As you made to exit the room, Sanji gestured to the black satchel. You shook your head and scrunched your nose at him before exiting the house one again.

“What does she even see in him?” you heard Usopp utter as the door closed behind you, breaking your silhouette away from the light and under the cover of darkness once more.

“I’m not sure, I’m just the new guy,” Sanji mocked Usopp’s tone before laughing at his own joke.

You shook your head and began to walk to be far from the wandering eyes and ears of your crew, desperate to have a moment alone with your beloved jester. You found a small row of tangerine trees, sitting down on a small patch of plush grass and bringing your knees to the righthand side of your body, resting your weight on your left hip as you reclined your back against the trunk of the citrus tree.

Turning the face of the clown you had been dutifully carrying, you noticed the tangerine continued to remain held within his jaw. A small amount of saliva had begun gathering at the corners of his mouth as it struggled to contain the spherical object within his mouth. You placed his head on the ground in front of you before gesturing for him to place the object in your awaiting palm.

Attempt as he might, he could not dislodge the object from his lips by maneuvering it himself. His eyes began to widen in panic, prompting you to reach upwards to his lips.

“I’ve got you, sweetheart,” you whispered, reaching your thumb and index finger to his lips to pry the object from between his teeth. He winced slightly before the tangerine was finally dislodged. He circled his jaw, his voice making an “ah,” sound in relief before he looked up at you through his long blue eyelashes. You tossed the tangerine to the side to lay beside the other fallen citrus fruits on the ground below their trees.

You hesitated your next move, but ultimately decided to go through with moving Buggy’s head to lay perpendicular with your left side as you lay your body down to rest fully against the green grass, moonlight caressing both of your bodies.

“Well isn’t this romantic,” Buggy’s voice cut through the silence, prompting you to giggle in response.

“I suppose it is, yes,” you agreed with a nod of your head, before uttering, “it would be even better if all of you were present.”

Buggy released a groan from his lips as he jumped his head down from its upright stance to lay his right cheek against the ground, gazing deep into your eyes.

“I didn’t mean what I said, if you heard it,” he uttered, eyes brimming with seriousness.

“Oh?” you asked, arching your brow, “and what did you not mean?”

“You’re not a dumb piece of garbage,” he uttered in a tone beneath his breath, “none of your crew are.”

You laughed at his comment, bringing your right arm over your body to make your position more comfortable.

“Why did you say it then?” your eyes twinkled, teasing him with your tone.

“I’m frustrated,” he snarled with his eyes roaming your form, “I just-.”

His voice halted in his absent throat, his gaze being brought back to rest against your own; your eyes half-lidded while maintaining a coy expression.

“I just want to hold you,” he confessed breathily, “I need to feel you flush against my body. I crave you, my queen.”

You smiled, studying his face. His paint had become more askew atop his face, allowing your eyes to meet with the dark blue stubble that had began revealing itself more prominently below his red hued lips. You brought your eyes over to study his pierced ear before trailing to the top of his red and white bandana.

Apprehensively, you reached your right hand towards the top of his head, smoothing over the fabric of the bandana beneath your fingertips.

“If I promise to put this back,” you began, meeting your eyes with his teal ones, “may I remove it from you?”

His eyes flittered between your own before he allowed his face to nod slightly in confirmation. Sighing lightly, you reached both of your hands over to his bandana and pulled the object from his head, allowing the soft blue locks to free themselves from their bonds beneath it.

A gasp left your lips as some strands fell into his eyes, prompting you to reach your right hand over to cast them from skewing his vision. The feeling of his sea-worn hair was softer than you anticipated, noting the bandana must’ve been maintaining the structural integrity of his hair relatively well.

Before you realised what you were doing, both of your hands fell within the scalp of the soft blue hair the clown in front of you adorned, a sigh falling from between both of your lips under your ministrations. You raked your fingers through his hair, his eyes falling closed as he relished the feeling of your gentle touch.

“You are so beautiful,” the words escaped your lips before your mind could keep up with them, having your thoughts overexerted from their earlier fixation on tinkering. Your fingers stiffened in his hair as your mind caught up with your words, prompting Buggy to chuckle at your confession.

“You are even more beautiful, my queen,” he uttered quietly, reopening his eyes to gaze into your own.

Starlight flickered against his pupils, highlighting his teal hue beneath his long, blue eyelashes. Your breath caught in your throat as you became transfixed under the soft gaze of the genius jester. Breaking from your grip in his hair, your fingers trailed to lay at the back of his neck before fleeing from their place to lay in front of your body.

“Why did you stop?” Buggy asked you in a voice above a whisper, “I was enjoying that.”

“I’m sorry,” you hurriedly said, apologetically, “I would never want to disrespect your boundaries, especially because you have no way of defending yourself.”

He rolled his eyes at you before unceremoniously hopping from his place to bring his face within inches of your own.

“Baby, if I wanted you to stop; I’d bite you,” he warned you with narrowed eyes before chuckling, his red nose scrunching and smile lines becoming prominent against his eyes. You laughed at his comment before looking at him quizzically; prompting him to do the same.

“What is it?” he asked, his eyebrows creasing in the centre at the question.

You began searching your mind for the appropriate answer before shaking your head and just speaking directly from your thoughts.

“Your chop-chop powers,” you began, prompting him to crease his brows further and his smile fall from his face. You continued; “where, uh-. What happens to your hair?”

His brows knit together further before his laughter erupted from his lips, a wide smile appearing once more.

“That’s what you’re thinking about?” his voice broke through the air, “where my hair goes?”

You exhaled a sharp breath through your nose in protestation of his laughter, before a wide smile overcame your own features.

“To answer your question,” he began after teetering off his laughter, “yes, it keeps growing. If I want short hair like this-,” he flicked his neck to reveal his chin length locks more to you, “I simply remove it.”

Your brows creased before you reached up once more to smooth through his hair, brows again furrowing in curiosity.

“It’s in my hat,” he chuckled, “I removed it for flare, sweetheart. And now the fucking fishmen have that along with my other fun parts.”

If you had a drink, you would’ve unceremoniously spat the liquid in laughter. Instead, you choked on your own saliva at his comment, prompting him to laugh in response.

“I thought you were going to ask me about something more serious than that,” he said, quieting down his laughter as you recovered.

“Oh? Like what?” you asked him in response as your lungs once again filled with an appropriate amount of air.

“Like if all my parts can detach,” he said, wiggling his eyebrows, “which they do.”

You rolled your eyes at his comment, once again reaching for his head and smoothing your hand over his stubbled cheek and raising your fingertips to brush his pierced ear.

“Buggy,” you addressed him, moving your eyeline from his hair to rest once more against his own.

“Yes, dearest?” he chuckled, “what? More questions?”

You shook your head, smiling at him in chastising his statement.

“No more questions,” you confirmed, “just a statement.”

“Oh?” he asked, bringing his face closer to your own, wiggling his cheek against the green plush grass.

You smiled at him and smoothed your fingertips over his cheek before resting your palm against the rough surface of his stubble.

“I am likely to perish tomorrow,” you nodded your head cynically, prompting the playful expression to flee from his face altogether.

“Don’t say that-,” he began, prompting you to rest your fingertips lightly against his lips to halt his sentence.

“Please don’t interrupt me, my love,” you affectionately commanded him. He nodded frantically in confirmation of your words. You sighed before moving your fingertips back to their place resting against his stubbled cheek.

Buggy felt himself swoon under his new title bestowed to him as he chased your retreating hand with his lips and placing a small kiss against the skin before fully allowing your retreat.

“I am not a fighter,” you nodded your head at your own statement, “and I do not expect my crew to lay down their lives to protect a tinkerer – a boatswain – within the thralls of battle. I am replaceable-,”

“-Don’t,” Buggy warned you, eyes narrowed and commanding presence returning to his features.

“Please let me finish!” you said, desperation clawing at your words.

“Then hurry up and say what you need to say without putting yourself down!” he commanded in a booming voice.

The wind began to blow the sea air against the tangerine trees, filling the air with their bitter-sweet scent.

“I want you!” you spoke, eyes narrowing as you realised the words you had spoken. You shook your mind from your own thoughts and doubled-down on your confession: “I want to go with you so badly. I want to leave my crew behind to join with you; body and soul.”

The words pulled themselves from your throat freely as your eyes began to brim with fresh tears, emotionally draining you from your frustrations.

“I want to feel you within my arms, hold you against me and tell you how much you truly mean to me as I feel you relax into my arms and become one with me,” you began, tears pricking at your eyeline and threatening to break over, “Buggy-,”

“Kiss me,” Buggy commanded you, bringing your attention back from your inner intrusive thoughts and back into reality.

“W-what?” you stuttered over your words.

The clown in front of you sighed as his eyes became darkened under his hardening resolve, a snarl pulling at his lips.

“I know what you’re going to say,” he spat at you, all humour and playfulness fully fled from your interaction; leaving only destruction in its wake.

“And what might that be?” you taunted him, your own snarl forming between your lips and growing into a deep frown.

“I want to be with you, but I’ll never leave my crew,” he said, scrunching up his features and mocking you in a horrid, high-pitched voice.

You snarled at him, baring your teeth at his harsh words.

“I don’t sound like that-“ you began, only to have your words halted by Buggy’s voice replacing your own.

“But that is your intention, isn’t it? I can tell by your tone, sweetheart,” his voice remained elevated, only stuttering under the title he bestowed to you; his own eyes beginning to swell, “you’ll leave me just like the rest of them.”

Choosing not to speak, you allowed a small tear to escape from your left eye and fall to the greenery beneath you. After the one tear escaped from your left, your right followed swiftly behind it.

“Tell me I’m wrong,” Buggy reiterated, his breath hitching in his non-present throat, “tell me you’ll come with me and rule at my side as queen of the pirates-.”

“-I can’t,” you whispered, halting the next words from escaping his lips in their formation behind his mouth.

A moment of uncomfortable and tense silence fell between you, the breeze again gracing itself over your features and blowing Buggy’s exposed locks within it; hindering his sights from meeting your eyes.

“See,” he chuckled, relieving the tension, “this is why I wear the bandana. This shit always gets thrown in my face without it.”

A giggle began to erupt within you as your bottom lip remained downturned, a sob following it before you allowed the laughter to take over. You reached your hands up to his face again and raked his blue hair away from his eyeline, his eyes meeting your own once again as he sighed into your touch. You smiled at him, prompting him to do the same.

“I love-,” you began.

“-Please don’t,” he spoke over you, closing his eyes and shielding his emotions from your sights, “if you won’t come with me, I won’t allow you to.”

“Buggy-,” you again found the words halted by his voice.

“-I said don’t,” he whispered, keeping his eyes tightly shut.

You inhaled a deep breath to fill your lungs as your mind hardened in its resolve. You placed your hand against his cheek and closed the gap between your faces; finally bringing your lips to lay flush against his own.

Unlike the first kiss, you had no need to muster bravery, stupidity or something else entirely. You knew within your minds eye that this kiss was something of purity. Something true. Although you promised both him and yourself that you would not engage with him without his entire form being fully present, you could no longer withhold expressing your adoration and affection for the genius jester as he so beautifully humbled himself before you. Your body responded directly to his direction breathily spoken moments ago.

“Kiss me,” his words echoed within your mind as you trailed your right hand from his cheek to rest against the back of his neck so tenderly.

You felt him inhale a sharp breath through his nose at the initial shock of the contact made between you before whimpering against your lips at the sudden contact. He relaxed against your lips as you soothed him with your hands, brushing his loose hair beneath your fingertips.

He maneuvered his mouth effortlessly against your own, his tongue dancing at your lips to prompt you to open yourself up to receive him. You parted your lips, an action that had a low groan resonate within his bodyless throat as he pushed past your lips with the muscle to meet with your own.

Tangerines; the citrus that was so unceremoniously thrust into his mouth, successfully gagging him by the chef earlier, was the flavour you could taste as your tongue danced against his own. The bitter-sweet citrus being the perfect analogy for the emotion you truly felt as you moved your hand from the back of his neck to trail down his jaw and pull him closer into you.

He struck his chin against your own to angle your face upwards to deepen the kiss, him very much in control over the embrace; although he was just a head. You felt him moan against your lips as he continued to push himself further against you in an attempt to bring himself closer to you. You gasped as you felt his tongue retreat back within his lips, his teeth meeting your bottom lip in its stead, nibbling at the puckered flesh; coaxing a moan from within the chasms of your chest.

Your heart fluttered at his ministrations, a heat gathering itself at the pit of your stomach as a sob released itself from your chest and into the lips of the clown in front of you; prompting a similar response of his own.

He broke from the kiss, resting his forehead against your own; his nose resting flush against your own.

“Please don’t leave me,” he whispered against your lips, his breath halting within his mouth, “I can’t live without you.”

You moved your hand again from his jaw to rest behind his head, massaging small circles at the nape of his neck.

“I can’t leave my captain,” you whispered in return, circling your nose affectionately against his own, “nor will I leave my crew. I would sooner die than betray them.”

Buggy clenched his teeth as fresh tears began to flow freely from his eyes, betrayal the emotion gathering itself within his chest all but three miles away from his current proximity.

“I will never stop pursuing you,” he whispered; his breath becoming one with your own in its proximity.

“And I-,” you began, smoothing over his face with your fingertips; prompting him to reopen his eyes to meet his gaze against your own; “-will never stop loving you.”

Screaming interrupted your thoughts, as your body and Buggy’s head jolted forward at it’s vocalised interruption. You immediately sprung to your feet, your arms stooping down to collect the head within your grasp as you fled to its source.

“Arlong!” the voice cried, baring their soul in intensity.

Your feet carried you faster than you expected it to be, especially while cradling the head of your lover between your arms. As you sprinted on, your gaze was halted by a sight your mind could not readily process.

Nami lay askew on the floor beneath her, a blade clutched within her right hand as she thrust a small blade within her grasp against her tattooed shoulder.

Her movements became halted under the firm grip of your captain as he approached her crouched form.

She looked to him, her eyes filled with sorrow as she continued to clutch the blade between her fingers. Her breath hitched within her throat as your captain bore his eyes into hers, echoing her sorrowful intensity.

“I told you to get the hell out of here,” she uttered darkly, her tone becoming skewed by her sorrow.

“You did,” your captain confirmed monotonously.

Nami’s blade fled from her grip and fell to the ground as she collected herself against her growing rage.

“Then leave,” she commanded; rage and darkness filling her voice at her orders, “you don’t know anything about what’s going on here.”

“I don’t,” your captain agreed with her, the same monotonous and dark tone gathering within his throat as his resolve hardened.

A silent moment passed between them, tension hanging within the air as you cradled your lover’s face between your arms; bringing his view to the situation as it unfolded.

“Luffy?” Nami quietly addressed your captain, turning her sorrowful gaze to meet with his eyes, her voice becoming desperate in its addressal; “help me.”

Your captain reached his right hand above his head and collected his straw hat from above his head, removing it from his raven hair and placing it atop Nami’s orange locks; securing it in place with a firm push.

“Of course I will,” he uttered darkly before turning away from his navigator and maneuvering his body to face his crew.

“Of course I will,” he again growled below a whisper of a breath, his resolution resolving within an awaited breath. He walked down the dirt road to meet with his crew: Usopp sitting against the ground, his arms folded: Zoro propping himself up by his single remaining white blade: Sanji smoking his cigarette down to the butt of the filter before flickering it away.

“Of course I will!” your captain screamed into the empty road, a declaration of his intentions thrust in solitude into the road ahead, Nami bringing her right hand to stifle a sob gathering in her lips.

Luffy’s gaze narrowed, brimming with a single purpose as he uttered: “let’s go,” to direct his crew.

“Right,” the voices lifted of your crew, and within the chasms of your own chest in confirmation on the next course of action.

Usopp stood to his feet and checked his perception on the movement and sounds resounding from before you.

“What’s that?” he uttered in question, prompting you to turn your own sights to the noise echoing ahead.

“They’re attacking the village,” Usopp uttered, confirming your fear as smoke littered the sky with its fumigation.

Echoes of battle hung within the sky; explosions, gunshots and shrieks from civilians joining in a sorrowful chorus of pain.

Reluctantly, you handed over the head of your beloved to the arms of Sanji. You made eye contact with the teal irises of the clown as you parted with him, spiriting away to meet beside your orange-haired navigator.

“What happened, love?” you asked her, bringing your right hand to rest above her left shoulder, noticing her flinch under your touch. You flittered your eyes down to meet with her fresh, self-inflicted wound on the side of her arm.

“Arlong told the Marines the location of my treasure,” she sobbed, her eyes meeting with your own.

You brought her into an embrace, cradling her hat-adorned orange hair into your left shoulder. Your eyes narrowed, your purpose forming within your chest.

“Which Marine?” you asked her, darkly.

She released herself from your embrace, searching your eyes for an indication of your intentions.

“A commander,” she whispered to you, prompting your gaze to meet with her own, “his name is Nezumi. He took my gold: the ransom for the freedom of my village-.” A sob caught in her throat as she attempted to collect herself.

“Shh,” you soothed her, your hand rubbing circles against her skin; “say no more, my dear.”

You released her from your embrace and brought her gaze to meet your own; wildness and mischievousness gracing over your features.

“W-what is that look for?” she asked you, her eyes flittering to meet with your own to search for reason within them, being met only with an unnerving smile and wide eyes.

“Nothing, sweetheart,” you reiterated, smoothing your hand over her form to comfort her; only to unnerve her more, “now I know what it’s for.”

Part 14

Tag List:

@thesadvampire @a-phan-of-youtube @multifandombtch @plan3t-plut0 @tiredemomama @tfamidoingwithmylife @bimboshaggy @plan3t-plut0 @vixnicknacks @tesha-i-guess@glitteryblizzardsalad @hellbaby237 @shuujin @nevaeh-jasso @hellbaby237 @gingernut1314 @sl00tty-v @redpool@lostfirefly @knightsfavoriteprincess @valen-yamyam16 @potatodaddy @luckyprincesswasteland @str4wberrydreams

#one piece #opla #x reader #one piece live action #opla fic #captain buggy #buggy #buggy the clown x reader #buggy x you #buggy fic

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love---mandy · 2 months

Text

A Fairy Tail Rant About Lucy in the Grand Magic Games.

So me and my sister have been rewatching Fairy Tail, and it’s been an up and down of enjoyment and infuriation. I love the characters in this series, especially Lucy. Like when I first watched the series I didn’t have very strong opinions on her. I enjoyed her, and I never disliked seeing her on screen. Flash forward a few years I rewatch Fairy Tail, and she’s become my favorite character. Like I love so much about her I swear I devolve into incoherent sounds when I talk about her. Which is why her treatment during the Grand Magic Games pisses me off to no end.

In the only fights she participates in she gets relentlessly abused, and for what?! She looses both of the major fights she’s in. In her first battle Asuka is used as hostage and that allows Flare to beat the daylights out of her (which in my opinion there should’ve been a barrier of some kind in place to prevent things like that from happening, but whatever). Even when Natsu gets rid of the thing preventing Lucy from fighting back, she still looses. Her magic energy gets forcibly taken from her, and Flare wins by default.

Now I could almost forgive this fight, if the same damn thing hadn’t happened in Lucy’s 2nd fight. The next fight feels even more gross cause Lucy’s in a swimsuit the whole time, and there is constant fan service which adds this extra layer of mixed emotions to the fight.

The Lucy vs Minerva fight is my least favorite in the whole GMG arc, and maybe in the whole series because it only serves as a means for us to hate Sabertooth, much in the way Lucy vs Flare made us hate Raventail. Once again Lucy is physically beaten to no end, and in this particular fight it’s, in my opinion, so much worse, and it’s because Minerva won’t let Lucy fall out of the water arena. She pulls her back again and again. And we’re forced to watch this take place just like the rest of the guild. Once again I ask, What is the purpose?! We already dislike both guilds before either of these fights take place. Raventail targets Gray in his battle, and Sabertooth humiliates Yukino, and forces her to leave. So please explain to me why Lucy, and why twice in a row?

Aside from making us hate both guilds, Lucy loosing the way she did served absolutely no purpose. My sister and I constantly talk about how Mashima loves to humiliate his women, especially the strong ones like Erza, which I won’t even start on cause that’s a whole other rabbit hole I do not want to think about. So if you look at Lucys fights with that angle, it all makes sense. I could just be blinded by my anger, but I swear nothing like this ever happens to any other character in the whole series (And I what I mean is being beaten to hell, only to lose).

Lucy is used as a device for anger in her fights. And she doesn’t even get to prove herself. Both moments where she is able to show off what she’s got, get forcibly taken from her.

I know she does helm the Eclipse Gate stuff, but her fights in The Games left such a sour taste that it almost over shadows so much of what she does.

This post is very all over so forgive me, but I just needed to be mad that in the Games themselves, she doesn’t get to do anything cool. She gets tortured, and robbed of any chance at a victory.

I love Lucy so so much, and i think she deserved better then loosing all of her fights.

#fairy tail #fairy tail lucy #lucy heartifilla #fairy tail rant #fairy tail critical

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freyito · 11 months

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I'm in that 'damn I'm too feminine guess I'll die' phase right now, pretty sure it happens monthly, so, I was wondering if I could ask for Liu Kang with a ftm reader who's normally happy just crashing down one day, specifically because they think they're too feminine for people to perceive them as a guy?

Thank you for writing such amazing stuff btw!! :D

anon, you saved me. you SAVED ME. ive been in such a mood and ive been wanting to write something comforting!!! but i havent been able to think of a prompt and i didnt really have the energy for anything in my inbox. and then you BLESSED me with this absolute banger of a request oh em gee.

and don't worry, you're not alone either anon, im also lowkey goin thru it. twinsies!!!! letting you know, from a very feminine (androgynous, but apparently i seem fem aligned) trans man, its okay to feel this. there really is no definition to masculinity and you are a man regardless of what people say!

added some bonus characters for myyyy self indulgence if you don't mind

cw: male reader, ftm, just fluff, implied romantic relationships w/ all, proofread

ʟɪᴜ ᴋᴀɴɢ (ᴀɴᴅ ʙᴏɴᴜꜱᴇꜱ) + ɪɴꜱᴇᴄᴜʀᴇ ꜰᴛᴍ ʀᴇᴀᴅᴇʀ

-Liu Kang...

is almost disheartened at the sudden change of behavior. Just the other day you had been so vibrant, bringing color, a certain tone to the world. Something even he didn't think was possible. When he had met you, he was smitten. With your positivity, your optimism, and above all else, you.

To find you, quiet, sullen, hiding from him, it was heartbreaking. The absence of your voice and your light was something that very clearly rubbed off on him.

Finding out you've broken because you do not feel yourself, because you cannot look in the mirror without seeing the man you aren't, it fills him with sorrow. Because, he sees you as a man, regardless. He always will, and it will never change.

To be honest, he's quite unsure how to comfort you. He's by your side, reassuring you that you are masculine, that he and many, many others see you as a man. And he wants to make sure you see that. The best he can be is sympathetic, it hurts that he can't necessarily understand you on a deeper level.

However, that does not change how he sees you. Nothing defines masculinity, nor what makes a man in his eyes. Even as a god, he believes there really is no definition to anything, aside from what you make it.

He lets you know exactly that. There is nothing in the world that could change his mind, no insecurity- no matter how big- you find will ever change his view of you.

-Kuai Liang...

originally thinks you are playing a game with him. So suddenly, you disappear. He looks for his sunshine around every corner, every closet, any possible hiding place he can think of. You are the light of his life, your shining brilliance cannot be matched.

So when he finds you sulking in your room, hiding, back turned from him and the world, suddenly concern eclipses his light. The pit in his stomach forms, ever expanding with worry.

Hiding because you do not see yourself as... yourself. You can almost hear his heart shatter. You are afraid other people see this, too. That you are not a man in anyone's eyes.

At first, he believes someone had put this through your head. Someone had told you this, had made you feel this way. And the fire burned within him, something telling him to find whoever had said this to you. Yet, when he finds out it is simply you perceiving everyone else's looks towards you like this, his mind slows down.

Kuai insists you are wrong. His usually calm temper replaced by him adamantly denying that you are seen as anything else. You are a man, regardless. He has never seen you as anything else but one.

Knowing you put yourself down this this claws at him, he partially feels guilty. But he puts in the effort to make you feel exactly like who you are, to bring your radiant light back into his life again.

-Johnny Cage...

can't stand loosing your positivity, your light is an ever-burning warmth that keeps him rather grounded, despite his wit and charm.

He's plunged into sudden darkness when he wakes up to you with your back turned to him, pushed as far away as possible at the edge of the bed. In an instant, it feels like his whole world is ripped away from him.

But, he's determined to make sure it isn't, and he begins with the questioning almost immediately. This was the quickest you've ever seen him wake up. And to find the reason you've pushed yourself away from him is because you don't see yourself how he sees you, and that you are ashamed- no, no. He can't have that.

Johnny cuts you off immediately, showering you and pampering you with affirmations. He does not allow you any room to let your mind twist your identity. He makes it known that you are a man, he sees you as a man, everyone sees you as a man.

He's serious, too. All traces of the signature Cage tone are wiped out, his voice soft, yet heavy. He doesn't let you, not even for a second, get back into your dysphoric mind-space. He tries, real hard, anyways.

Johnny only lets up when he finally sees even a potential smile on your face. And once he's so sure he's affirmed your gender,- and you've affirmed yourself- he's back to his over-the-top persona, bathed in wit and perhaps even a little bit of pride.

#*ੈ✩ freyito #mortal kombat x reader #mortal kombat 1 x reader #mortal kombat x male reader #mortal kombat 1 x male reader #liu kang x reader #liu kang x male reader #kuai liang x reader #kuai liang x male reader #scorpion x reader #scorpion x male reader #johnny cage x reader #johnny cage x male reader #mk1 x reader #mk1 x male reader #mk x reader #mk x male reader

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supernatural-dreamer · 1 year

Text

The Unnatural and Unexpected (Embry Call x Black!Reader) Pt. 2

A/N: Hey everyone! It’s almost twilight season and as a commitment to myself and to you, I will (attempt) to post every Sunday from now until Halloween! You’ve all responded and I have decided to turn this into a multiple part series! I’m playing a little loose with the blood singer/ mating vampire rules as a fun experiment.. Leave a comment AND follow if you’d like to be tagged going forward. As always like, comment and follow. Let me know what you think!

This is set during Eclipse around newborn battle. This is tailored for a African American/Black female reader specifically, however all are welcome to read..

~Lauren

*All gifs credited to original owner*

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Pt. 1

Masterlist

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Imagine being Embry’s imprint and tagging along with the wolves to their newborn training session. However, you’re always in for an unexpected surprise when you’re around Bella..

Never were you the adrenaline junkie type. If your two feet were not able to stay on the ground, you did not participate.

But damn. You would be lying if you said you didn’t enjoy the experience, just a little.

Curse your newfound curiosity.

Or maybe, being in Jasper’s arms is what made it more enjoyable.

What the hell? You barely know this pale-ass dude.

It is when your hair stops moving that you start to tune back into your surroundings. Clinging to Jasper akin to a koala bear, eyes still shut, you meekly ask,

“Are we there yet?”

“I stopped moving a few minutes ago.” Crap.

Popping one eye open, you see the Cullen house directly in front of you. Looking up at him, you notice he is looking down at you, slightly smirking. Coughing, you signal him to put down. He does, gently and you stand in silence for a moment.

“You alright? I know reaching high speeds like that can affect humans pretty bad.” No shit sherlock.

“I’m fine. Thank you for the, um, ride.” You shuffle your feet while studying your now slightly-dirty shoes.

Then you suddenly remember the potentially dangerous situation you’re in-the anxiety slowly kicking back in. Jasper checks his surroundings, then gestures for you to move up the front porch steps.

“My pleasure. Let’s get you inside. After you.”

–

Jasper Whitlock was a pale, ex-confederate, undead, man of few words. He has seen mostly wars and death in his human and afterlife. Peace and normalcy was a foreign concept to him, until he ran into Carlisle. He never would have chosen this life for himself, but then again, he never knew his current life was even possible until was in it.

You, on the other hand, were the complete opposite of him.

From the day he saw you, he couldn’t get you out of his head. At first, it was pure curiosity. You were one of the few interesting humans he had met in his time that actually presented a mental challenge for him.

Although he couldn’t directly read minds like his brother, Jasper could easily deduce what people were thinking based on their feelings–enhanced by his empath abilities, no doubt. When it came to you, however, he could not sense a thing. If he could put a color to every emotion he sensed, yours would always be grey- neutral.

Educated guesses were always made on his part, but you still managed to catch him off guard and did something different. A literal wild card.

The day you were partnered with him on some random school project, he began to notice your intelligence and convictions. He was impressed at your ability to keep Bella’s dangerous moves in check while keeping your personal boundaries. It reminded him of some of the people in his past he had lost long ago. It was then, you had gained his respect.

Slowly, Bella started bringing you around their house more often. At the time, it was mostly a cover for him and his siblings to investigate newborn activity, especially after one broke into your house. When he was around, outside of class, Jasper kept his distance, mostly for your comfort level.

Then, he noticed Bella’s or any human’s scent did not affect him as much anymore when you were around. After a few times, he realized something peculiar: you were the only human that didn’t stir his bloodlust, either.

Miraculously, you actually had seemed to quell it.

It was when Alice and his family confronted him on the possibility of you being his blood singer, he considered that he might have felt something more than just friendly admiration for you. Carlisle let him know only blood singers have this much of an affect on vampires like this.

But Jasper wasn’t having any of it.

At first, he denied it, immensely. Although he was intrigued by you, you didn’t seem to have the exact same affect on him the way Bella did with Edward. He had and was more than content with Alice.

He especially didn’t think it was possible when he found out Embry had imprinted on you. He had abandoned the idea entirely. There’s no way a shifter, let alone their imprint, would have any involvement with the vampires. They were sworn enemies after all.

So, he did the only thing he could do- kept his distance. The last thing that needed to happen was the pot to be stirred at a time where their alliances were critical. Besides, you seemed happy with Embry. Unlike his brother’s situation, he didn’t want to turn your whole life upside-down for a silly school yard crush—

And that was that for him.

Until Alice told him for the first time that she saw you in his future the day they trained with the wolves. In what capacity, she didn’t know. What was certain was that you were going to be involved with the Cullen’s for the foreseeable future, whether anyone wanted or not. She also knew Jasper well enough to know that you meant something to him.

She didn’t have to be a clairvoyant to know that.

Regardless, you could not make any decisions until he actually told you. The women were right that it wasn’t fair of him to keep everything to himself, especially when that meant putting you in more danger. Blood singer or otherwise, he couldn’t subject anyone he cared about to that. Not on his watch.

It was at that moment, he realized he had feelings for you—though he hated to admit it.

As you sat in the massive kitchen, the silence became deafening. You could tell he was deep in thought about something and, at first, you thought it was from today’s events.

Until he looked at you the way he did today.

He was keeping something from you and you were determined to find out what it is.

Penny for your thoughts? You’ve been quiet the whole way over.” Breaking the silence, you take a sip from your glass of water.

“Well we were running over 70 miles an hour.” You had to keep from facepalming yourself.

“Are you hungry? We have some leftovers from the other day still in the fridge.” He starts to cross the kitchen. You were starving and those leftovers did sound good at the moment, but you were persistent.

“Yes, but you still didn’t answer my question.”

“Just still on guard and keeping an eye out for any newborns is all.” And the lie detector test determined that was BS.

He starts to open the containers when you stop him, placing your hand over his.

“Jasper what aren’t you telling me? If it’s something about the newborns, you could tell me. At this point, nothing you can tell me will shock me too much.” He sighs.

“Not even if I told you that you are my bloodsinger.” Cue the glass in your hand dropping to the floor.

You and your big ass mouth. You did the only thing you could do at a time like this:

Freak the hell out.

“Wait a damn minute. How can that be? You already have Alice!”

“Yes, but it’s possible for a vampire to have multiple blood singers in their time as we live well—forever. It’s sort of rare but it happens.” Smartass.

“Okay, let’s say I buy that. But I’m also a shifter’s imprint. How the hell can I also be a vampire’s bloodsinger? Isn’t that like impossible?”

“Honestly, I don’t really know. No one really does. Carlisle guesses that the imprint bond could have altered the usual signs of a singer. ”

“How come Alice didn’t see it sooner?”

“Maybe you being an imprint blocked her from seeing your future. Or you could have the same neutralizing affect on her abilities as you do mine. Who knows? What we do know is that she saw you in my future, and as complicated as it sounds, you affect me as Alice did before she was turned. Unfortunately, she’s never wrong.”

At this point, you’re pacing back and forth, trying so hard not to lose your shit completely.

“What am I going to do? What happens now?” What about Embry?

It would be just your damn luck as you are just starting to somewhat feel content about your bond with Embry, you now have a tie to not one-- but two creatures of the supernatural.

“Hey, hey, hey, he stops you, gently gripping your forearms and turning you around to face him. You didn’t even hear him come behind you. Damn vampire stealth.

“Let me stop you right there. This will be whatever you want it to be-or lack thereof. Although I can’t lie and say I don’t have feelings for you, I will not push or force anything. Just like anything else, we take it day by day. We will figure it out. I will be right beside you, only if you want me to be, (yn).” He pushes a coily strand behind your ear as you look up at him.

This time you actually get a good look at Jasper. His blonde hair was a bit messy, but framed his sculpted face perfectly. Against his porcelain skin, his eyes almost glowed. You noticed they were a little more gold than usual, most likely from his recent hunt.

Now by this point, two things were going through your head:

Good god. This man was fine.

You were in some deep shit.

A deep, guttural growl snaps you from your trance. Whipping your head around, you see the large, glass pane door, wide open and a familiar native boy standing in front of it. And he is livid.

–And the pile just got a whole lot deeper.

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