🌙 The shelves of the Moonlit Library are officially open.
Today, I'm beyond grateful to share that my debut poetry collection, Velvet & Violence, is available in both eBook and paperback! 💜
This collection was written through seasons of longing, heartbreak, healing, faith, and becoming. Every poem carries a piece of my journey, and it is my hope that somewhere within these pages, you'll find a piece of your own.
Becoming a published author has been a dream, but sharing these words with you makes that dream even more meaningful.
Whether you've been following my journey from the beginning or you've only recently discovered The Moonlit Library, thank you for being here. Your encouragement, your messages, your comments, and your support remind me why I continue to write.
📖 Velvet & Violence By Ebony Miree (Nyx)
✨ Now available in Kindle eBook and Paperback!
Thank you for turning these pages with me.
🌙 Welcome to The Moonlit Library... where every story has a place, every poem has a voice, and every reader is welcome.
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Reminder to everyone facing a weekend of snow and dangerously-cold temps to go get an extra ration of pet food, people food, drinking water, toilet paper, and personal necessaries NOW. If possible, also grab an emergency blanket, some portable heating pads (like Hot Hands body warmers), battery-operated lanterns, and batteries, and fill your gas tank to keep the lines from freezing while your car sits. If you don't have a snow shovel, find a cardboard shipping box and keep the flaps.
Charge all your devices and portable power packs. Keep your thermostat at 65F or above to make sure your pipes don't freeze. Fill your bathtub or a large soup kettle or spare water jugs with tap water for cleaning and flushing toilets in case the pipes do freeze in your area. Apply scrap fabric, newspaper, or weatherstripping to any gaps or leaks in your door and window frames. Use spare towels to block the bottoms of drafty doors.
Friday and Saturday, everything's going to be a madhouse and the shelves will be empty. So prep now, if you haven't already, and reach out to your near and dear to check in and establish emergency plans. Once things get started, STAY HOME and don't take unnecessary risks.
Better to overprepare and wonder later why you worried than to shrug it off and regret.
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hello i apologize if this is a lot but i'd love to req a fic w/ zoro, law, ace, sanji where reader is normally mature but has cuteness aggression to animals, & when she started dating them, she does it to the boys too- suddenly clinging onto them while aggressively peppering their faces w/ kisses or squeezing their cheeks & just being so overly proud of them & showering them w/ compliments, it can be a common occurrence or it takes the boys by surprise lol you decide ^o^
also, thank u for ur service to the op community on tumblr 🫡 the quality & frequency of ur fics are impressive, i always look forward to ur updates♡
Clingy Combat Cuddles
characters: zoro, sanji, law, ace (x fem!reader) + chopper (platonic but with zoro too)
a/n: they're kinda short because I didn't have many ideas, so I added chopper (ofc it's platonic tho + it has zoro in it!)
words count: around 0.4k - 0.6k each
tags: fluff, humor, cuteness aggression, established relationship (except for chopper ofc)
masterlist || ao3 || ko-fi
── .✦ Zoro:
The deck of the Sunny is peaceful. The sun is warm. The sea is calm. A perfect day.
And Zoro has just fought a sea king.
You're watching from the side, arms crossed, lips pressed together, trying to stay cool and composed. Like always.
But Zoro walks past you, shirt still off, a little cut on his cheek, sword resting against his shoulder and he scowls at the deck like it personally offended him.
That’s it.
That’s the moment.
Your brain breaks.
You lunge at him without warning “Zoro!”
He turns his head, barely reacting in time before you wrap your arms around his neck, jumping slightly so you can hang off him, nuzzling your face into the side of his jaw.
“YOU WERE SO COOL!! You chopped that thing like shing shing BAM! My big strong grumpy samurai baby!”
He stiffens “Oi! What the—”
You grab his face between both hands, squishing his cheeks together like dough.
“Look at this face! So serious! So brave! So slicey! UGH!!”
You start kissing his cheeks, nose, forehead, even his frown line like you're on a mission.
Zoro is frozen. Arms hanging in the air like he doesn’t know what to do with them.
“…Did you hit your head?” he finally mutters.
“No!” you say, still kissing him “I just... I have a thing!”
“A thing?”
“Yes! I get aggressive when things are too cute or too cool or too brave! Like when Chopper does his little dance or when cats squish into boxes—and now you!”
He gives you a blank look “So… you're calling me cute?”
“No,” you say seriously “I’m calling you the cutest deadly thing I’ve ever seen and I want to eat your face in the most loving way possible.”
“...What.”
A few feet away, the rest of the crew is watching like it’s a new show.
Luffy’s grinning, sitting on the railing “He’s gonna explode.”
Usopp is pale “I’ve never seen her like that. That’s terrifying.”
Sanji’s cigarette hangs from his lip, forgotten “He doesn’t deserve that level of affection, but damn if I’m not jealous.”
Robin chuckles “So, this is what she’s like when the mask slips. Fascinating.”
Back to Zoro who now has you hanging off his front, kissing under his chin while mumbling things like “my battle bear” and “look at this terrifying angel”.
He finally puts a hand on your back, awkwardly “…You’re seriously not joking.”
“Nope,” you chirp, grinning like a lunatic “I’m so proud of you I might die. Look at you! Protecting everyone without hesitation. You’re amazing.”
He stares at you. Then down at his swords. Then at the deck.
“I just killed a sea king.”
“And it was HOT.”
Zoro groans and hides his face behind your shoulder.
Later on you’re sitting on the grass, your head in his lap, Zoro finally having managed to drag you somewhere quieter. Sort of.
He’s sharpening his swords, jaw set, pretending he’s not enjoying the way you keep sneaking kisses to his thigh.
“You done acting weird?”
“Nope,” you say, immediately reaching up to pinch his cheek again “You’re mine now. This is the price.”
Zoro sighs, annoyed.
But he doesn’t move your hand.
Instead, he glances down, and there’s a tiny hint of a smirk at the corner of his lips.
“You better not do this in front of enemies.”
“No promises.”
“…Tch.”
You grin and tug him down for another forehead kiss.
And this time, he lets you.
── .✦ Sanji:
You’ve been good today. Calm. Collected. You kept your hands to yourself through breakfast, through a minor skirmish with Marines, and even through Sanji’s dramatic backflip dodge while holding two plates of soup.
But now… Now he’s plating dessert.
He hums a little as he swirls whipped cream into perfect little peaks.
His hair falls over his eye just a bit, and there's flour on his cheek.
You try. You really try.
But no... You’re losing it.
“Sanji—” you say, voice tight.
He turns with a warm smile “Yes, my love?”
You’re already marching toward him.
“Oh no,” he says, eyes wide with anticipation “Is it time?”
“It’s time.”
You slam into him like a heat-seeking missile, arms wrapping tight around his middle as you squish your cheek against his chest.
“TOO PERFECT. TOO BEAUTIFUL. TOO TALENTED” you shout into his shirt.
Sanji laughs and drops the whipped cream just in time to catch you with both arms.
“Mon dieu, you’re doing it again. You’re going to kill me with affection.”
You grab his face “GOOD. DIE WITH LOVE.”
You start smothering him in kisses: forehead, cheeks, chin, nose, ears, rapid-fire smooches with increasing intensity.
Sanji nearly melts.
“Chérie, please, my heart can only take so much—”
“Look at you!” you cry, squeezing his cheeks “Your stupid little smile and your perfect food and your gentleman act! You’re SO ANNOYINGLY AMAZING!”
He practically purrs “Say that again.”
“You’re the most beautiful, talented, wonderful man in the world and I want to chew your stupid perfect face like a mochi bun.”
He gasps softly “Marry me.”
“I might do.”
“Then we have to arrange it all.”
Later that evening, you’re sitting peacefully on a chair, flipping through a book.
Sanji walks past you carrying a tray of tea and pauses.
He glances over his shoulder.
You glance up.
There’s flour on his sleeve.
His shirt is rolled up to the elbow.
He’s humming again.
You’re holding it together, but barely.
He smirks “You okay, mon amour?”
You stare.
He walks closer “You’re looking at me like I’m a chocolate cake with legs.”
You slam the book shut and launch up, but before you can pounce, he spreads his arms wide like an invitation.
“Come here, ma chérie. Ruin me.”
You leap into his embrace and he spins you around, laughing as you kiss his face over and over and over.
“You’re shameless!” you giggle.
“I’m in love,” he says dramatically “If your kisses were a drug, I’d be long dead.”
“I will squish your cheeks into dumplings and feed them to seagulls.”
“Please do.”
“You’re too pretty, it’s unfair.”
“I’ll ugly it up a little. Give me a day.”
“NO! I love your face, I’d wear it like a scarf if I could.”
He fake-swoons “Do it. Take it. I’m yours.”
“Is this… normal now?” Zoro mutters as he watches you pin Sanji against the wall of the kitchen, attacking him with affectionate nibbles and kisses while he happily takes it, hands holding your waist like he’s never been more at peace.
“Unfortunately, yes,” Nami says, sipping her drink “They’re like this almost every day.”
Brook hums “Yohoho! True love is terrifying.”
Robin smiles behind her book “At least it’s harmless. Though, she did try to bite his nose once.”
“She did bite my nose,” Sanji calls out helpfully “It was magnificent.”
Zoro turns away, muttering, “Get a room.”
“We have a room!” Sanji replies “We’re just taking the scenic route!”
Hours later, you’re snuggled on the couch in the kitchen, your head on Sanji’s lap, while he runs his fingers through your hair.
“You good now, love?” he asks gently.
You sigh “I think I emptied the tank.”
He leans down and kisses your forehead “You can refill it tomorrow. I’ll be ready.”
You open one eye “You really don’t mind when I get like that?”
He smiles “Mon amour… I live for it.”
You smile too “You’re gonna regret saying that.”
“I hope I do,” he says “Over and over again.”
── .✦ Law:
Law is reviewing maps. His fingers tap against the table in a steady rhythm, eyes darting from note to note. His crew has just docked at a remote island, nothing dramatic today. Just calm preparation.
You're leaning against the wall, watching him.
He’s focused. Serious. In control.
You normally admire that about him.
But now?
It's making you suffer... a lot.
His eyebrows furrow slightly. He mumbles something about currents and wind speeds. His lips move with precision. His fingers glide over the paper and...
... and that’s it.
You break.
“Law” you say, voice suspiciously innocent.
He hums without looking up “Mm?”
You walk up behind him slowly. Too slowly. His head lifts just slightly, eyes flicking toward you, narrowing.
“…What are you doing?” he asks flatly.
You don’t answer.
You leap onto him from behind.
“AHHH—”
He jolts forward a little as your arms wrap tight around his neck, your face burying in the side of his head.
“YOU’RE SO SMART. SO FOCUSED. I WANNA BITE YOUR BRAIN THROUGH YOUR SKULL—IN A LOVING WAY!”
“WHAT—?! Y/N—what are you—”
You pull back only to grab his face and start kissing it in a fury.
Forehead. Nose. Cheek. Jaw. Temple. Eyelid. Repeat.
“SO! SMART! AND! SEXY! AND! SERIOUS!”
“Are you having some kind of episode?” Law says, voice strangled.
“Yes,” you gasp “It’s called cuteness aggression and you’re the disease.”
Minutes later, Law is leaning back in his desk chair, defeated, while you sit on his lap like an overjoyed little goblin, hands on his cheeks, staring at him lovingly.
“You’re not supposed to be like this” he mutters.
“Like what?” you blink innocently.
“You’re usually calm. Rational. Controlled.”
“I lied,” you say sweetly “That was just the bait phase. This is my final form.”
Law sighs and covers his eyes with one hand “I can’t do diagnostics like this.”
“Sure you can,” you whisper, kissing his nose again “You just need to adjust to your new life. With me on your lap. Forever.”
He mumbles something that sounds suspiciously like “help”.
“Too late,” you say “I’ve chosen you.”
“You’re insane.”
“And you’re perfect. Look at this little line between your eyebrows. It’s my favorite. Can I kiss it?”
“No.”
You kiss it anyway.
He tries to work. He really does.
You're sitting nearby. Quiet. Reading. Acting like a normal person again.
Then Law says something offhanded, like, “The odds of ambush are low, but possible.”
You immediately drop the book.
You spin in your seat.
“Low but possible? SO. ARE. YOU. That’s you. You’re a low-chance rare-drop man. A mythic legendary boyfriend. I’M GOING TO KISS YOUR EARS.”
“Please do not kiss my ears.”
You pounce again “TOO LATE!”
You squeeze his face gently, tilt it like he’s a confused doll, and begin your assault.
He groans “This is emotional terrorism.”
“You love it.”
“…I don’t hate it.”
Later that night, you’re laying together in his quarters, the world quiet, your head on his chest. He’s stroking your back slowly, finally calm again.
“You’re weird” he murmurs.
“Yup.”
“I liked you better when you were pretending to be emotionally stable.”
You smile into his shirt “Liar.”
“…Yeah,” he mutters “I am.”
You lift your head just enough to look him in the eye “Do you want me to stop?”
He hesitates.
Then, softly “…No.”
You grin “Good. Because I was going to keep doing it anyway.”
He presses a kiss to your hair “Of course you were.”
── .✦ Ace:
Ace drops out of the sky like a meteor, lands on the deck with a dramatic crouch, and tosses a flaming Marine cannon overboard like it’s a beach ball.
Everyone cheers.
You’re already running toward him.
He stands up, beaming, shirt half open, flames still curling off his shoulders.
You throw your arms around him like a tackle.
“BABY!! YOU LIVING INCINERATOR! MY FLAMING HERO!!”
He laughs, wrapping you up tight “I missed you too, firecracker!”
You grab his cheeks.
“I am going to smooch you so hard your freckles become stars.”
“PLEASE DO.”
You slam kiss after kiss to his face, and he laughs through all of it “Wait—no, don’t stop, I’m just surprised! You’re usually the calm one!”
“That version of me is dead,” you say seriously “You dropkicked a cannon midair. I’m going feral.”
“Finally!” he cheers “Join me in chaos!!”
You bite his cheek lightly.
He gasps “I’m in love.”
The rest of the crew watches you both clinging to each other like human Velcro, nuzzling and giggling and attacking each other with affection.
“It’s like watching two puppies roll down a hill” Marco mutters.
Thatch wipes a tear “Beautiful. Gross. But beautiful.”
Ace is now spinning you in a circle while you repeatedly yell, “YOU’RE SO STUPIDLY HOT, IT MAKES ME ANGRY.”
“YEAH?! GOOD! I WANNA BE HOT FOR YOU FOREVER!”
“STOP SMILING LIKE THAT YOU HANDSOME PIECE OF SUNSHINE!”
“I CAN’T, YOU’RE TOO CUTE WHEN YOU YELL.”
Later, Ace plops down beside you, sweaty and soot-streaked after another skirmish. He opens his arms wide.
“Do your thing” he says.
You blink “What thing?”
He grins “You know. That thing. The... 'aggressive cuddles and I-want-to-chew-your-face' thing.”
“Ohhh, you want the full package?”
“Yes please.”
You tackle him to the ground instantly.
“MY BEAUTIFUL DUMB IDIOT. MY FLAMING HOT DORK. MY BRAVE EXPLOSION HUSBAND.”
You kiss his forehead.
Then both cheeks.
Then his jaw.
Then you pause.
“You smell like smoke and sea salt.”
“Romantic, huh?”
“You smell like danger and I love it.”
“I love you.”
You pause again “Ew. That was corny.”
“You just licked my face like a cat two minutes ago.”
“Fair.”
At night, lying in a hammock together, he holds you tight against his chest. The wind is quiet. The sea gentle.
He brushes his fingers through your hair.
“You really don’t get embarrassed?” he whispers.
“Not when it comes to you” you murmur back.
“Even when you call me a ‘beautiful flaming dumbass’ in public?”
“Especially then.”
He grins into your hair.
“I like this side of you” he says.
You look up “You mean the clingy one that kisses your nose in front of your whole crew?”
“No,” he replies softly “The one that doesn’t hold back.”
You smile.
“Then you’re stuck with me.”
Ace kisses your forehead.
“Good. Because I’d set the world on fire before I let you go.”
── .✦ Chopper (+ Zoro):
“Okay, next patient,” Chopper says proudly, flipping his clipboard “Let’s see Y/N, it’s just your check-up!”
You sit on the exam table swinging your legs “Yup! I’m ready, Doctor Tiny Genius.”
“I told you not to call me that” he mutters, hiding his flustered face behind the clipboard.
You lean down and whisper, “But you are a tiny genius.”
“Stop iiiit,” he whines, blushing, “I’m just doing my job!”
You watch him waddle around the room with his little doctor coat and stethoscope.
He’s so smol. So serious. So determined.
You can’t hold it.
“Chopper,” you whisper “Come closer.”
He looks up, confused “Huh? Why?”
“Come. Closer.”
“Are you okay—?”
You snatch him right off the ground and CRADLE him in your arms.
“TOO CUTE. TOO KIND. TOO FLUFFY. I LOVE YOU SO MUCH I’M GONNA EXPLODE.”
“W-WHA—?!” Chopper’s face is glowing red “W-WAIT! I—I’m your doctor—!”
You rub your cheek against his fuzzy face “You are my doctor AND my emotional support reindeer. Let me love you.”
“You’re squishing my antlers—!”
“They are precious and I would die for them.”
Chopper flails, but doesn’t really try to escape. He’s used to this. You do this at least once a week.
“I’m gonna tell Zoro!” he threatens, kicking gently.
“Zoro loves it. He thinks you’re cute too.”
Zoro is leaning against the doorframe, watching the scene unfold.
You cradling Chopper like a plush toy while Chopper pretends to be mad but actually leaning into your touch.
Zoro sighs... and smile.
“You’re enabling her” Chopper says accusingly.
Zoro shrugs “You are adorable.”
“Not you too!” Chopper squeaks.
You smirk “See? I told you.”
Zoro walks over and gently ruffles Chopper’s hat “Deal with it, doc. She only does this to her favorite people.”
Chopper freezes. Blinks. Looks between you and Zoro.
“R-Really?”
You nod and boop his nose “Only the elite get aggressively snuggled.”
He goes completely red, squeaks, and buries his face in your shoulder.
“Okay... but just for five more seconds.”
You squeeze him tighter “Ten.”
Later, as you finally let Chopper go, he adjusts his little coat and clears his throat.
“I’m still your doctor” he says sternly.
“Of course, Doctor Cutie.”
“Don’t call me that! …I mean, you can, but—wait, no, don’t make it a thing!”
Zoro pats his head on the way out “Too late.”
You lean over and whisper to Zoro “I’m gonna dress him up as a little surgeon plush next time.”
Desc: You and Nami learn about men in sexy dresses.
Cw: Platonic but suggestive. Unserious.
You stand on the deck, looking up to notice a bird. It's the news seagull! The entire crew is always interested in news and it’s wearing a bigger satchel than normal. It flies down to you and you hand it money for the paper before noticing something else. It also has magazines, this must be why the satchel is bigger. You look at the price and buy one too, Nami usually likes reading these for any new clothes or coupons. Once you’ve paid it flies away leaving you with your items. Another thing you’ve noticed, it’s actually pretty thick. You’ll do her a solid since she’s busy and look for the coupons yourself. While you’re flipping through something catches your eye.
“Hm?” Something about a “red dress charity run” for men. What could that mean? You innocently turn the page and your eyes widen. There’s multiple images of men, muscular, wearing sexy red dresses. Blood rushes to your face. “T-This..!” You stare intently at the different types of dresses both smooth and lacy and the way the fabric hugs their muscles.
“Oh! Is that a new issue?” Nami’s voice rings from behind you and you fumble to hide the magazine. Your reaction makes her pause, then look in suspicion. “What’s in there?” She asks like you’re a dog caught with a beetle in its mouth. Do you show her? What if she thinks it’s ridiculous and laughs at your reaction? You try to hide it better but when you look at your hands.. it’s gone.
“You shouldn’t be distracted around me~” She teases and you curse her and her sticky fingers. “Now let’s see what yo-” Her voice cuts off when her eyes land on the magazine. She froze. You nervously shift around.
“Sorry, I uh, I guess it um.. It’s the dresses. They’re pretty, right?” You lie quickly and Nami looks up at you.
“Holy shit.” Is all she says before looking down again and flipping through. “W-Were there more?”
“Huh?”
“Ah- Not to be.. it’s the dresses for me too. Yeah.”
…
“We’re both lying, huh?” You state and she nods in relief.
“Something definitely just unlocked.” She mumbles as you two look together. “This was for charity? Good cause.. they really do pull these off so well.”
“Whatcha lookin at?” You both jolt to see Luffy behind you two.
“Luffy! You startled me!” Nami holds the magazine to her chest. Bad move, that only piqued his curiosity.
“I wanna see! Why’re you being so secretive?” He frowns and keeps trying to grab the magazine until Nami has to hold it high above her head.
“Stop it! Weren’t you doing something else?” The navigator tries to hand it to you,
“Yeah, but I got bored.” but Luffy stretches his limb to snatch it.
“Hey-!”
“Ehh?” He holds the book in front of him, looking intently before bursting out laughing. “What’s this? There’s so many of them! Is this what you were hiding?” He flips through them.
“Be careful with the pages before you rip something.” You huff.
“This says charity, right? They dressed up funny like this for that? I don’t like the frilly ones.” He hums before pointing at a smoother one. “That one seems okay.. I wouldn’t wanna wear any dresses though.” He’s already making it about himself.
“You wouldn’t wear them for charity though?” You tease as you go to his side.
“Nnn, can’t I just help them another way? I don’t wanna wear a dumb dress for it.” He’s taking the bait, trying to find one that looks not like a dress despite the whole point being that they’re dresses. Zoro appears next.
“What’re you loo- what the hell.” He grimaces looking at the photos.
“(Y/n) and Nami were looking at it.” Luffy snitches very quickly and both you and the navigator avoid Zoro’s judgmental gaze. “This one kinda looks like you Zoro! Haha!” Luffy laughs and the swordsman looks back at the photos.
“I’d never wear dumb shit like that. Are these seriously all guys?”
“It’s not dumb! And give that back!” Nami snaps and grabs it from Luffy's hands, sticking her tongue out at the both of them. “Just so you know this was for charity. Hear that? Cha. ri. ty. You’re making fun of a good cause.”
“I’m pointing out how stupid grown men running in tiny dresses is. Can’t they just do something else?” He’s disgusted.
“Yeah why don’t they just give them stuff like normal.” Luffy chides in.
“That’s not it, it's the appeal! The appeal!! People give to charity to see it.” You’re trying to explain this to two guys and Luffy starts to laugh again while Zoro stares. One just finds anything funny and the other one very masculine when it comes to muscles.
“To see buff grown men with beards running in tiny dresses. Who would even want to see that, perverts?” You and Nami look away. “Oh so both of you are perverts, huh? We have 4 on our ship now.”
“A good cause!” You snap. “What if there was a kid right in front of you sick and they said the only way they would be saved is if you wore the dress. Is it still dumb then!? Are you gonna refuse when the little kid is sick, trembling, dying in front of you and they said if you didn’t wear the dress in 5 minutes they would die, huh!?”
“Why would wearing a dress save them!?” He yells while Luffy hums in thought.
“I’d wear the dress if it was the only way. I don’t have to wear it forever, right?” Zoro grabs Luffy by the shirt.
“Dumbass, don’t give in that easily! Why would wearing it help!? And what kind of hypothetical is that!?”
“Zoro, the kid is gonna die!” Luffy is now on your side.
“That’s not the point! Stop agreeing with them!” Nami is lost in thought while the two bicker about it.
“Sanji was in Kambakka right? I wonder if he’s worn dresses while there.” Nami points out and you turn to her with a matching idea.
“Sanji!” The two of you yell and in seconds the blonde is next to you two.
“Yes~♡??” He’s excited to be called but freezes when you two stare at him. He’s getting a bad feeling.
“Sanji-kun~ You’re helpful, right?” Nami steps forward with the magazine in hand.
“Yeah, you’re just sooo good to us. We’re always so grateful!” You step forward next and he begins to sweat.
“Y-Yes?” He’s getting anxious.
“You were with Ivankov right?” You two ask innocently and his eyes trail to the magazine before going pale.
“N-Nami-san? (Y/n)-chan?” He takes more steps back as you two get closer.
“You can do us a favor. Right?” You two say at the same time and he shrinks in on himself.
“I—I, t-that’s..” You both hook your arms under his and drag him off, Zoro and Luffy still arguing in the background.
____________________
You and Nami stand outside the door as rustling is heard inside the room. It’s been going on for a while now but considering who’s doing what, you're patient. Finally, it stops; but there’s no sound after. You give it some time before speaking.
“Cmon, Sanji-kun, let us inside!” Nami says first.
“Yeah I’m sure you’ll look fine!” You chime in after.
The comfort seems to work because a few seconds later.. the door unlocks. You both walk inside carefully to see Sanji, flushed, in a sexy red dress and black heels. It’s tight around him, especially his bottom half. The sight causes you and Nami to stare and he looks away in shame.
“I knew I would look ridi-” He’s interrupted.
“You look amazing!” Nami yells.
“Exactly! This fits you so well I’m almost jealous!” You yell next, catching him off guard as he steps back. “I never really noticed but your waist is so small.” You squeeze his waist and he gasps then jolts when Nami feels his thighs.
“It is smaller than a regular muscular guy’s but it looks so much smaller because his legs and hips are so big! Still hairy.”
“It wouldn’t be Sanji if he wasn’t a little hairy though, it adds charm.” Nami nods at your observation.
“I look horrible.” Sanji tries to retort “So shameful.”
“You look stunning Sanji!” Nami says loudly, going face to face with him. “In fact, let me see.” She goes to her makeup bag and pulls out red lipstick and mascara, going back to Sanji and applying it to his face. “Wow.”
“I think this is the most attractive you’ve been to me.” You say quickly and his face gets even redder.
“Eep!” He squeaks when Nami trails a hand from his lower back to his butt. “Nami-san!”
“Sorry, too far? The skirt just really outlines it, I guess it makes sense considering your legs but I know women that would be envious of you.”
“It’s o-okay.” He’d much rather attract them than get envied, though. You go back to gripping his waist, you and Nami basically feeling him up while he trembles and tries to keep normal despite being sandwiched. There’s only so much he can take, he breaks with blood seeping from his nose.
“Ah! You’re gonna ruin the lipstick!” Nami frets while conflicting emotions run through Sanji’s mind. The shame of being in feminine clothes, the joy of your and Nami’s hands on him, the fact that he almost feels nice in this outfit; it’s making him dizzy. “Are you okay?”
“Do you need to lie down?” You sit him on the bed and he looks at you with hearts in his eyes. He wants to be touched more but attention from something like this is so crazy.
“Do I really look good in this? I look weird! I-I’m a guy! Manly guy!” You press your forehead to his.
“You look hot as hell.” His nose spurts another wave of blood. Good thing Nami is more prepared with a tissue this time. He loses himself in thought as it’s stuffed in his nose.
‘Maybe this is worth it.. No! I’m a guy! I shouldn’t be wearing dresses! But they like it so much, and maybe I do look good. Absolutely not, I’m a man! Men don’t wear this! I hate it!’ He’s fighting in his head as you and Nami admire him.
BAM!
“Hey what are you do-” Luffy bursts in without knocking, going quiet when he sees you all. “Huh? Sanji’s dressed up?” He starts to crack up but stops when you both snap your heads to him with a glint in your eyes, his hair standing up on its ends.
“Luffy~ You wouldn’t mind trying one on too, right?” You ask sweetly. A flicker of haki flashes into his brain and he takes off running. Sanji stays on the bed while you two chase him, lying down with dizzy lovey dovey hearts in his eyes.
Yes this is based on the actual charity run thats was done. I saw a muscular guy on tiktok tjat posted a photo of himself in the dress and i had to let out the energy into something. So it was this. Praise be to men in sexy dresses..
Please note this is the last part. But... I have something special for you all. Next week... 10,000 words worth of 15 years later... Because you all deserve to know what happens to our power couple, Amara and Hope!
Morning in the Dreaming was not marked by sun, but by a soft quickening of the twilight, as though the realm itself leaned closer to listen. You shifted from the bed, intending only to stretch stiff muscles, and then—
A sharp pop. A sudden warmth rushing down your thighs, darkening the silken carpet beneath.
Your hands flew instinctively to your belly. “Morpheus—” Your voice broke on his name. “My waters— they’ve broken.”
He was on his feet before the last word left you, cloak pooling like liquid shadow around his ankles. His hands caught your arms, steady and sure, even as his eyes flared pale with raw intensity.
“Beloved,” he said, low and fierce, his gaze never leaving yours. “Breathe. You are safe. She is safe. This is only the beginning.”
A contraction followed—deep, low, a tightening that pulled a gasp from your chest. You gripped him, forehead pressing into his shoulder, teeth clenched against the pressure. He held you immovable, one hand strong at your spine, the other pressed firm to the swell of your belly, reading the rhythm as though it were written in stars.
He did not waste a heartbeat. With a flick of his long fingers, the air thickened, starlight shimmering into form. Figures in robes of silver and white appeared at the edges of the chamber—dream-healers summoned at once, their faces calm, their eyes glowing softly with otherworldly light.
They bowed low, not to him, but to you. One spoke, their voice gentle as running water. “We are here. We will tend you both.”
Morpheus did not move from your side. His body was a fortress, shadows coiling close, his arm steady at your back as another wave began to build inside you. His jaw tightened, but his voice remained level.
“See to her comfort,” he commanded without looking away from your face. “Nothing more. I remain.”
The healers spread quietly around the room, preparing warmth and light, laying silks and cushions, filling the chamber with a hushed readiness. One placed their glowing hands above your belly, and the pressure softened fractionally, not gone, but easier to bear.
You gasped, eyes wet, clutching tighter at Morpheus’s wrist. “It hurts—”
His forehead pressed to yours, pale fire steady in his gaze.
“I know, my heart. Let it come. Let it pass. Every wave brings her closer.”
The next contraction slammed into you, wrenching a sound from your chest that echoed off the chamber walls. Before you could shift upright again, the dream-healers surged forward, their movements fluid, robes whispering like running water.
“Lie down, my lady,” one urged gently, their voice calm as a stream at night. Hands glowing faintly, they guided you toward the wide, low bed they had prepared. Towels spread beneath you in layers, soft silks arranged to cradle your body, basins of steaming water waiting at hand.
You shook your head, gasping, body taut with refusal—until Morpheus bent close, his presence overwhelming, steadying. His hand pressed to the curve of your back, his eyes burning pale fire into yours.
“Beloved,” he whispered, rough with both command and devotion. “Let them. It is for your comfort. I will not leave you.”
Your strength buckled beneath the contraction’s grip. With his arm at your shoulders, you allowed yourself to be eased back against the pillows. Towels absorbed the rush of fluid, cool cloths touched your brow, and the chamber filled with the hushed scent of lavender and star-roses.
Another surge swelled through you. You cried out, nails sinking into the iron of his wrist. He bore it without a flinch, leaning close, his voice a tether.
“With me. In… yes… hold… out. Perfect, my heart. Perfect.”
The heavy chamber doors groaned faintly, and in the silence that followed, a small, clear voice rang out. “Mummy?”
You turned your head sharply, sweat dampening your hairline. Amara stood in the doorway, curls wild, her tiny fists gripping the frame, eyes enormous as moons.
“Amara—” you tried to say, but the contraction stole your breath, leaving only a strangled gasp.
Lucienne appeared behind her in an instant, composed even now, her hands gentle as she placed them on the child’s narrow shoulders. Her voice was firm but kind, calm as bedrock.
“Not now, little one.”
Amara’s lower lip jutted stubbornly, her gaze darting from you to the glowing healers, to Morpheus hunched protectively over you. But when Lucienne turned her firmly, she allowed herself to be led away. Still, her words echoed bright and ringing, the last thing you heard before the doors shut again.
“Mummy is having the baby.”
The contraction peaked savagely, dragging a cry raw from your throat. You curled forward, clutching at Morpheus as though he were the only thing keeping you tethered to the world. He bent at once, shadows closing tighter around the bed like a fortress. His pale eyes locked on yours, fierce and unyielding.
“With me,” he commanded softly, each syllable vibrating through his chest against yours. “Breathe—yes, just so. Let it come. Let it pass. Every wave carries her nearer.”
The healers moved with quiet grace, sliding towels into place, adjusting the silks, murmuring to one another in a tongue older than mortal speech. But your world had narrowed to him alone—the press of his hand firm against your belly, the tremor of his breath at your temple, the low rumble of his voice steady as a drumbeat.
The wave ebbed, leaving you trembling, sobbing, drenched in sweat. He brushed the damp hair back from your face with a hand that shook only slightly, his mouth pressing to your brow as if in benediction.
“Soon,” he murmured, reverent, raw. “Soon, you will hold her. I swear it.”
***
The next wave hit harder, sharp and grinding, pulling a broken cry from your chest. You clutched at Morpheus, sweat dripping into your eyes, your nails biting into his skin. When it passed, you sagged back against the cushions, chest heaving, fury mixing with exhaustion.
“I swear to you,” you panted, voice ragged, “I am not doing this again. Never. Do you hear me? No more.”
His hand cupped your cheek instantly, pale eyes wide, haunted with fear that he had failed you. “Beloved—”
You cut him off with a hiss, glaring at him through tears.
“No, Morpheus. Unless you come up with a Dreaming version of birth control, you will never have sex with me again. I mean it.”
For a heartbeat he simply stared at you, shadows shifting restlessly at his feet. The pale fire in his eyes flickered, not with anger but with something wounded, bewildered. Then his thumb stroked slowly across your damp cheek, his voice low and rough but steady.
“You would deny me?” he asked, the words barely above a whisper, but the depth of them reverberating through the chamber.
Another contraction clenched through you, dragging a cry from your throat as you clutched at his wrist. When you could speak again, you met his gaze, tears streaking your cheeks, fury and love colliding.
“I would deny you more babies,” you gasped, “for the next hundred years if I must. I love you, but I will not do this again.”
His eyes widened fractionally, the shadows curling tighter around his ankles as if to anchor him. He bent closer until his forehead touched yours, his breath hot and uneven.
“Then I will make it so,” he murmured, voice hoarse. “I will weave it into the Dreaming itself if I must. I will find a way. Only… do not deny me your love.”
Another surge began to build, but his arm was already at your back, his hand pressing steady and sure to your belly, his voice guiding you through the pain.
“Breathe, my heart. With me. In… yes… out. She comes nearer.”
Another contraction surged, sharper than the last, and you cried out, curling forward, clutching at his arm as if you could climb inside the strength he offered.
The healers’ voices murmured around you, calm as flowing streams. “It is time,” one said softly. “The child is ready. She comes.”
Morpheus’s grip tightened on you, his pale eyes flaring with fire as he bent close. His lips brushed your temple, words vibrating through you like a spell.
“Do you hear them? It is time. You are ready. She is ready. And I am with you.”
Your head shook wildly, sweat dampening your hair, panic clawing through your chest. “I can’t—I can’t—”
His hand caught your jaw, tilting your face to his, shadows cradling you both.
“You can,” he said fiercely. “You are stronger than the wave. Stronger than fate itself. Push when your body commands, and I will not let you go.”
The next contraction ripped through you, primal and immense. You bore down with a ragged scream, Morpheus bracing you, his arm behind your shoulders, his hand gripping yours tight enough to fuse bone to bone.
“Yes—again,” he urged, voice breaking but steady, pale fire locked to your eyes. “Push, my love. Bring her forth. She is almost here.”
You sobbed, bore down again, the sound raw and tearing, the weight of the Dreaming itself pressing with you. The healers’ hands guided, their calm words blending with his storm.
And then—relief, burning, stretching. A cry that was not yours filled the chamber. High, furious, alive.
Morpheus’s entire body shuddered as the sound struck him. He lowered his gaze, his shadows trembling like hounds in awe. In his hands—so impossibly careful, so reverent—he held a tiny, wailing life wrapped in glistening dream-stuff.
His lips parted, wonder undoing him. “Our daughter,” he whispered, voice breaking. “Hope.”
The healers bustled softly, laying warm cloths across your trembling body, but he did not move until you gasped, reaching for her with desperate, shaking arms. He placed her against your chest with infinite care, his hand covering both of you, shadows wrapping you in a cocoon of protection.
“You have done it, my love,” he murmured, kissing your damp hair, his voice raw with awe. “You have brought her safely into this world. You are everything.”
Your tears wet your newborn’s downy hair as her cries softened against your heartbeat. You looked up at him, exhausted but fierce.
“I meant what I said,” you rasped again, clutching both child and king against you. “No more babies. You need to fix this.”
His pale eyes softened, fire banked with devotion. He bowed his head to yours, lips brushing your sweat-streaked cheek.
“Then I will fix it,” he vowed. “For you. For us. For the Dreaming.”
Hope’s cries softened against your heartbeat, her tiny fists curling into the damp silk pressed to your chest. The rush of labor still trembled through you, but she was here — warm, impossibly small, and real.
Morpheus did not move from your side. His hand spread protectively over both of you, his pale eyes fixed on the infant with awe so raw it stole the breath from the room. He bent low, his lips brushing your temple, his voice reverent as prayer.
“Our daughter. Our Hope. The Dreaming itself rejoices in her cry.”
You laughed shakily, though your voice broke into a sob. “She’s perfect.”
The shadows eased, softening their protective wall as the chamber door opened a fraction. Lucienne stepped inside, calm as ever, her gaze softening the moment it fell on the bundle in your arms. Amara peeked around her skirts, curls bouncing, her eyes wide as the stars above the realm.
“Is it time?” Amara whispered.
You smiled through tears, nodding. “Yes, my love. Come.”
Lucienne guided her gently forward, then remained at the threshold, her composure shielding the moment. Amara climbed onto the bed with childlike determination, settling carefully at your side. Her small hand reached, trembling, toward the bundle against your chest.
“Is that… my sister?” she breathed.
Morpheus inclined his head, his pale fire gentled into warmth. “Yes, Amara. This is Hope.”
Amara’s eyes widened further as she touched the baby’s tiny hand. Hope’s fingers curled instinctively around hers. The little girl’s gasp filled the chamber. “She knows me!”
You laughed wetly, brushing curls back from Amara’s face. “Of course she does. You are her big sister.”
Amara beamed, proud as a queen herself. She leaned closer, whispering softly. “Hello, Hope. I’ll take care of you.”
Hope stirred softly against your chest, her tiny mouth rooting instinctively before settling with a sigh. Amara pressed closer at your side, her curls damp against your arm, her small hand curled protectively around her sister’s.
Lucienne lingered at the threshold, gaze softened despite her composure. For a heartbeat her eyes rested on you all — mother, daughters, Endless — before she inclined her head in silent reverence and withdrew. The chamber doors closed with a quiet finality.
The world beyond was gone. Only the four of you remained.
Morpheus knelt at your side, cloak spilling like liquid shadow across the floor. His long hand spanned all three of you — you, Amara, Hope — as though he might anchor you forever to himself. Shadows curled around the bed not as a fortress, but as a cradle.
You sagged back into the cushions, exhaustion dragging at every muscle, yet a lightness blooming through your heart. Tears slipped down your cheeks as you gazed down at your daughters. Amara’s breathing had slowed into sleep, her tiny hand still holding fast to Hope’s. The infant, soft and impossibly small, sighed against your skin.
Morpheus bent low, his pale eyes bright with something raw and unguarded, his voice a vow etched into eternity.
“In all eternity,” he whispered, “I have never felt so whole as I do now. Not in the height of my power. Not in the silence of my solitude. Only here, with you. With our children. My family. My dream.”
He pressed a lingering kiss to your brow, then another to the downy crown of Hope’s head, his hand tightening gently over Amara’s small form. For the first time in ages uncounted, his lips curved — not the faintest ghost, but a true smile, unburdened and real.
And so the chamber hushed, the Dreaming itself stilling in reverence, as the Lord of Dreams held his family close — his queen, his daughters, his heart.
Epilogue
In that chamber of twilight and hush, a new rhythm was born. Hope’s soft breaths, warm against your breast. Amara’s small, stubborn hand curled over her sister’s. Your heartbeat, fierce and steady despite exhaustion. And over it all, the low, unwavering presence of Morpheus, his shadows and silence cradling you as though the Dreaming itself bent to hold you safe.
The realm stirred in answer. Stars swelled brighter in their constellations, rivers ran clearer, their waters humming a lullaby. Blossoms opened where no roots had been, petals spilling fragrance into the air. Even the nightmares stilled in their dens, restless jaws quieted, wings folded, as though they too sensed the balance had shifted.
For their lord had not simply triumphed — he had been transformed.
You, weary but alight with love, looked down at the infant nestled in your arms, her tiny face softened in dreams. Beside you, Amara leaned against your side, curls damp, eyes fluttering in sleep, yet her little fingers never released their hold on her sister’s hand. The sight brought tears fresh to your eyes, joy and disbelief tangled into something too vast for words.
And Morpheus — Dream of the Endless, King of Nightmares, master of fear and wonder — sat vigil at your side, cloak spilling like dark water across the floor, shadows curled not in menace but in reverence. His pale eyes lingered on all three of you, and for the first time since the cosmos began, he smiled without restraint.
The Dreaming itself responded to that smile. Towers shone brighter, their spires crowned in light. Meadows unfurled in blossom, clouds bent low and soft, dream-creatures bowed their heads. A tide of peace rolled outward, touching every corner of his realm. For their king had found what even eternity had long denied him: wholeness.
Not in thrones, nor crowns, nor power unchallenged. But here. In the fragile weight of a newborn sigh. In the warmth of two daughters tucked against their mother. In the gaze of the woman he had sworn eternity to, whose love had remade him as much as he remade dreams.
And so the Dreaming dreamed anew: of laughter ringing down marble halls, of tiny feet pattering across starlit floors, of a king pacing with one babe in his arms while another clambered up his cloak. Of you, radiant with joy, the heart that bound them all.
It was not a fragile dream. It was a dream made flesh.
And for the first time since the first star rose, the Dreaming exhaled not in fear, nor in awe, but in peace.
I can’t believe it’s over. It was so good. It’s official. I’m hooked. I read went to your page always looking for the next part. You are an amazing writer. I can vividly picture everything in my mind! Kudos to you.
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I’m sorry today weighed on you the way it did. I wish I could’ve been there to shield you from every rough moment, every thought that hurt. Please remember—you don’t have to hold it all in or fight through it by yourself. I’m here. Always.
If you need someone to listen, I’ll listen. If you need silence, I’ll sit with you in it. If you need arms around you, mine will never let you go. You don’t have to be strong every second—let me be strong for you when you’re tired.
No matter how heavy the world feels, you are never a burden. You are my peace, my home, my favorite part of every day. Rest easy knowing tomorrow doesn’t have to be faced alone—I’ll be right beside you, every step.
⟡ letter from lyn: this is short, i'm really just trying to get works out for all of my characters so yeah!!
“do you need to be so crude all the time?” you blink at kol slowly, gaze clearly unimpressed.
his smirk widens sardonically.
“don’t get your panties in a twist, love.”
you watch with rapt attention as he leans back against the couch, his thighs spreading to get more comfortable. his sharp gaze not once straying from you, not even as elijah walks in.
“quit antagonizing our house guest, kol,” elijah mutters, his gaze briefly flickering between the two of you.
“i simply told her how delicious she looked in that dress,” kol hums, the fake innocent lilt hard to miss as he stares at you openly.
“those weren’t the exact words you used,” you huff at him.
“what did he say to you?” elijah asks, brow quirking in genuine curiosity.
“why dont you tell him, kol?” you mutter, arms crossing over your chest — an action that only makes kol grin wider.
kol hums in thought, as if he’s truly debating whether to share what he actually said prior to elijah's entrance.
“well, elijah, since you’re so nosey,” kol drawls lazily, grin somehow spreading even wider, “all i really said was that she’d look even prettier on her knees for me.”
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Isekai Reader, maybe learning some magic. Staying with Lucienne in the dreaming, even as the dreams and nightmares start to leave. Reader with a Nightmare familiar, Johnny 13's Shadow style. Reader keeping other important bits of the dreaming safe with Cain and Able, so that she might save Gregory someday. Reader reassuring/reminiscing with Lucienne(less sure of this). And finding Morpheus on the beach, being emotional about it
Maybe as a 5-and-1, five things she did/changed over those 106 years and the one thing she couldn't change. Saving Morpheus.
Into The Sandman: Gregory
[Masterlist]
Tags/ Warning: Isekai! Reader
A/N: I'm sorry its not everything that was mentioned above, but I hyper fixated on Gregory and the words took me by the chokehold and the next thing I know, I have a full on fic. Once again, requests for isekai! Reader is always open. Should you want to see more just hop into my inbox. I don;t mind compliments here and there to UwU.
This can be read as a stand-alone tbh. Listen, if I was in close proximity to Dream of The Endless, not even he can stop me from flirting with him
The throne room never fails to take your breath away. Stars that should not exits dance in the sky. Statues that cannot be made by man decorate the pillars.
It’s beautiful.
However, at the base of those steps, the very embodiment of dreams and nightmares sit and stare. No words can describe that beauty. But it’s a lonely endeavor. You, of all people, know how it is for him.
Morpheus turns to you. Something flickers on his face. It dissapears just as fast. You swear he’s bracing for something.
Still, he does not turn you away.
“It’s official! I have finally sorted out five-hundred incidents among the residents,” you say with a proud smile. “I also cut your work time in half, while also fulfilling my work in the library. That’s pretty good for six-months.”
“And you have come to brag?” Morpheus sighs, and you don’t think you’ve ever seen him sight like that with anyone else. “I have matters more relevant than this.”
“I’m here for a reward.” You give him a thumbs up. “I took care of matters that you find beneath you. Some would say I’m a keen observer – a wonderful assistant, indeed! What would happen without me?”
“Quieter halls, I presume.”
You clutch your heart, making a pained noise. “I think . . .,” you begin, scrunching your face. “I think my heart just shattered into pieces.”
“What could you even want that I have not already given you?” he says, and you catch the moment he rolls his eyes. “A higher wage?”
“You can’t afford to increase my wage, sire.” You press a hand to your lips, feigning a shy smile. “Unless . . . of course . . . you’re willing to go on a date with me.”
Morpheus stares at you for a moment, then sighs once more. “You flirt.”
“With you? Always,” you say. “It’s precisely why I’m asking for a reward. I’m a very jealous person, lord Morpheus. I find myself with the utmost of envy. The enviest of them all! So much so that skin could turn green. That my blood could turn green. Envy has consumed me with the same burning passion I possess for yo—
“You are dragging this conversation,” Morpheus says, face hardening. “I’m losing interest by the second.”
“Everyone else in The Dreaming has a special connection to their master.” You wipe a fake tear off your face. “I don’t have anything like that.”
Morpheus glares at you. “You want power.”
“Boring rewards are for boring people, and I’m only allowed to be this brazen because I amuse you.” You take a deep breath, and wonder if what you’re doing is the right course of action. “I ask . . . for a piece of yourself. Something that you create.”
“You dare to ask for a piece of me.” Morpheus rises from the steps, and the gaze of an Endless pierces through you.
“Okay but . . . Wyvern and Griffin and Hippogriff were made with your sand.” You avert your gaze, slumping your shoulders a bit. “So was The Corinthian and Mervyn. Cain and Abel have Gregory and I can keep listing.”
It’s hard to keep looking at him when his power leaks through the room.
“By all means, keep going,” Morpheus says. “I might finally be able to find slumber. Stories will be made about the mortal who put the Dream King to sleep.”
“Funny – hilarious, even. I am dying with laughter,” you say with a straight face. “But my point still stands. They all have a piece of you, but I don’t have anything like that.”
“Very well.” Morpheus descends the steps. “Do you have any particular requests?”
“Something from your sand. I don’t want it to wilt,” you say, carefully. “Anything at all from you to me as long as it will hold your essence even if you disappear.”
The sand flowing between his fingers still for a moment. Morpheus stares at you again, but it’s different from the one he gave you earlier. “ . . . Where would I go?”
You show him your most innocent smile, and do not answer.
Morpheus watches you for a second longer, then goes back to forming the sand in his palm.
You’re grateful he doesn’t press you for an answer. There aren’t enough words to express how grateful you are that he doesn’t.
It takes a moment, but Morpheus presents his reward to you and its . . . It’s . . .
“A flower?” You twirl the stem between your fingers, staring at the petals. “It’s beautiful. Thank you . . . I . . . ”
“Have you finally lost your words?”
“You would miss my words should I ever lose them.” You cannot take your eyes off the flower. Actually, you can’t believe you even succeeded in your quest. “What’s this called?”
Morpheus stills for a second, then looks away. “Whatever you wish for it to be called.”
“Oh dear,” you say then laugh with a brightness that can rival the sun. “You made a whole new flower for me?”
“In all my years of living a woman’s envy has proven to be more terrifying than a nightmare,” he says, sighing that deep sight again. “I have seen it topple kingdoms. I did not think The Dreaming could survive yours.”
“It seems my plans have been utterly foiled!” you say, laughing. “I was going to sell whatever you gave me to the highest bidder, but I can’t possibly give this away now.”
Morpheus gives you a pointed look. “You would give it away?”
“Of course not!” You press the flower to your lips and smile. “That was called, ‘joking’. Death herself will have to pry this out of my hands. To think I would receive a special present from you. I think I might have just fallen in love.”
“Enough,” he says, but the tone isn’t as harsh, as commanding. “I have given you a piece of myself. If you have time to flirt, then you have time to help Lucienne.”
You show him one more bright smile before turning away with a wave.
That smile stays on your lips until the throne room disappears from view, and a little after. It’s only when you are certain Morpheus can’t see you that you drop your smile.
A fool’s errand.
You don’t even know why you tried.
Lucienne flips through another page, even if her eyes are tried, even if her skin is raw.
It’s only been a month, but it’s enough of an absence. She will drag Dream from whatever corner he’s been hiding in. To do that, she needs to find him first.
You’re lying on her carpet, for some reason, books scattered around you. Those same books have long lost your attention.
Instead, you’re playing with a flower, twirling it with your fingers. I
It’s beautiful. It’s also something Lucienne has never seen before. Thus, she can only conclude that it was a present for her master to you. It would explain why you’ve been staring at it more.
Everyone in The Dreaming is aware of your . . . adoration . . . for their king. If that was what it can even be called – Lucienne could never really tell if you were being genuine.
“Take a break, Lucienne.” You murmur, tracing the petal with a hazed expression. “You’ve been reading for days.”
Lucienne flips another page. “Not yet.”
There’s a flicker of something in your expression. Like a mask finally being lowered.
In these moments, when your smile drops and your face hardens, Lucienne gets a feeling that you hold a knowledge that’s unspeakable.
Silence forced by you or another? That is the question.
Still, that glint in your eyes tells Lucienne all she needs to know – You could watch this world burn with the knowledge you hold, and Lucienne doesn’t think you would care.
“He’s going to return.” You curl into yourself, and that lightness you wield returns. “Don’t worry too much. He’s probably off brooding or maybe his eyes caught a pretty lady.”
“If you know so much, why don’t you find him then?” Lucienne snaps a little, then turns another page. She doesn’t even know if she’s truly read the book anymore.
A throw pillow hits her. Then another. Then another. Then another. Lucienne didn’t even know she had this much pillows.
“You are a foul creature!” you say, laughing. “But if you’re prepared to carry my body from the gates to my bed, I am happy to try again. Something’s keeping me from going to him.”
Lucienne throws a pillow back. “But you know where he is.”
There it is again. You show her your most innocent smile, and do not answer. Lucienne decides to let it go, because she too fears your answer.
“I’m sorry,” she says. “The others are thinking of leaving and if I could just find him.”
“It’s my fault for not stopping him,” you say, the words barely a whisper. It almost sounds like an admission. “I should have stopped him, even if it killed me.”
Lucienne brings the book to her face, replacing your image with words. “You couldn’t have known.”
An answer never comes, and Lucienne doesn’t expect it to. She keeps her eyes trailed on the book, frightened of your expression.
There’s comfort in silence. There’s trust in it as well – She trusts, that you are doing what your chains allow you to do.
“ . . . Huh.” You’re staring at the flower again.
Lucienne glances at you from her book. “What is it now?”
“Nothing,” you say, casually twirling the flower once more. “I just realized – I’ll be dead before he returns.”
Lucienne stares at you . . . then drops her book, letting it clatter into the ground.
“Stop looking at me like that.” You roll your eyes, and burry your face into a pillow. “I’m a mortal and a human – a double whammy.”
“You don’t know that,” Lucienne says, but she does and you do as well. “Your appearance in The Dreaming could mean something.”
“I’ll age and grow old and eventually die.” You say the words so casually that Lucienne wants to throw a book at you. “It could take years before Morpheus returns . . . I might never see him again . . . Do you think I’ll be dead by then?”
Lucienne picks up her book, and for a second, she really, really considers throwing this book at you.
“I don’t know,” she says. “That’s why I have to keep reading. I’m sure there’s something here that could locate him. I can’t give up.”
“Even if the library disappears?” You’re smiling so brightly, watching her very reaction. “Because it will happen, and the journal you’re keeping for him won’t be much use.”
Lucienne never told you about her journal.
“But slowly, the words began to fade,” you say, and it’s so obviously a taunt. “All the books in the . . . “
You keep talking, but Lucienne ceases to hear you. There’s a loud ringing in her ea –
You’re coughing now and slowly, Lucienne can hear again. She decides not to mention the blood staining your sleeves.
Lucienne chooses her words carefully. There’s something ancient binding you, something more powerful that she can even comprehend. Thus, she chooses ignorance. “You don’t know –”
“Answer the question, Lucienne.” You’re not smiling anymore.
“Even then, I will keep looking.” Lucienne studies you just as much as you study her. “Even if you tell me he will return on his own.”
“Interesting.” You hop to your feet with a growing smile. “Alright, then.”
Lucienne clutches her book tighter. “Where are you going?”
Your face turns blank, and there it again. That feeling that you’re so far away. It doesn’t last for a smile masks you. “Making preparations,” you say. “Dead if I do nothing. Dead if I do something. What a really shitty hand.”
The stem of the flower digs into your palm, almost painfully. It hasn’t wilted. Good. It was foolish but good of you to ask for this – to prepare in advance.
There’s isn’t much you could do now, but there’s always something to be done.
If you truly thought you couldn’t change anything, if your truly thought nothing could be done, then you wouldn’t have asked for a piece of himself.
But you did ask.
Gregory throws the ball. You throw it back. It’s a game of fetch that lasts until the moon rises. Cain and Abel have long since disappeared into their homes.
You press a hand to Gregory’s face, patting him a little. “I have a favor to ask of you,” you say, whispering the words to him. “I have this precious, little flower with me. It’s a dear gift, so you have to keep it safe.”
Gregory glances at the flower, inching closer to sniff it.
“I didn’t stop him. It’s my fault he’s gone – my fault The Dreaming will decay,” you say, and the weight of your truth drown you. “That’s why I need your help. One day, Morpheus will return, and he will ask you to pay a price you shouldn’t have to. Give him the flower instead. He’ll know what to do with it.”
Gregory nods, and takes the flower from your hand. He’ll keep it safe, and your gift will keep him aliv –
Drip.
Drip.
Drip.
Blood pools out of your nose. It drips down to your chin, and into your hands, staining you and the ground bellow.
Gregory steps closer, but you raise a hand and step back.
“It’s alright. That’s just the price for interfering.” You wipe the blood away, showing him a smile. “Oh! If you’re so worried about me, could I ask you for another favor? After you give Morpheus the flower, could you do this? He can get very sad, but this should distract him a little.”
You press your lips on Gregory’s cheek, giving it a long kiss.
Gregory laughs . . . uhhh . . . or at least you think he is. It’s difficult to tell.
The moon’s ray shines over the dreaming, and you use that time, refusing to rest until you’ve done enough. As the sun rises over the horizon, you climb into your bed and you do not wake up . . .
But you do not age as well.
Dream doesn’t want to ask this of Gregory, but The Dreaming is in trouble. Only something he created could pay the price . . . if only that price wasn’t Gregory.
Gregory laughs at him, the waddles back into his little nook. Dream doesn’t understand why, not until Gregory present a flower that should not exist until you asked for it to be.
Dream stares at the flower, and then at Gregory. The words come out on their own. “Did she give this to you?”
Gregory laughs at him again, but shakes his head, nudging Dream’s hand with the tip of his beak.
Dream doesn’t know what to do until Gregory closes his finger around the flower. The truth hits him with all the gentleness of a roaring sea. The flower was for him.
Gregory steps closer to him, pressing his beak into his cheek. It lasts longer than it should
Oh.
Oh.
Ha . . . Only you could find a way to flirt through others. Still, Dream allows your brazenness. It amuses him long enough to pull himself out of the sea.
“Gregory!” Abel screeches nervously, taking a step closer. “My lord, I apologiz –”
“Enough.” Dream eyes the way Gregory smiles at him, resisting the urge to roll his eyes. “This is not his fault. He is merely collecting . . . a wage . . . I have not been able to pay.”
Dream turns the flower back into sand. It is because of you Gregory can be spared, and that is the reason why he spares a glance to the castle. You’ve succumbed to the evidence of his absence like so many have.
Dream sends a silent vow of thanks.
You should sleep proudly, because you were correct . . . Dream of The Endless does does miss your words now that he's lost them.
