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whatthefishh · 10 months

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bloom for me

Series Masterlist

Regency Santiago Garcia x f!reader

A/N: Reader has a nickname (Wis) because I thought it flowed better with a title considering the regency times. Forgive me for historical inaccuracies it’s all fun and games here 😭🩷

Warnings: this chapter will have mentions of sex, pining, probably cringe writing, idk I just need to put this out there, be gentle pls. This has a real plot I promise lmao.

Words: 3k

He’s brooding again. It wouldn’t be such a big deal if he wasn’t so outwardly affected by his inner thoughts, whatever they may be. So now, you’re stuck standing next to the most disagreeable man at this week’s ball, patiently awaiting someone amiable to come and rescue you with a dance or two.

“Stand taller, you look like you want to leave.”

“Funny, coming from a man who needs a cane to walk before the sun starts to set.”

Sharply turning his head to cast you a withering look before anyone was the wiser, you started fanning yourself to hide the smirk you were sporting. You knew exactly how to rile him up and he hated you for it. He looked ridiculously handsome even while angrily grumbling to himself about your manners. Unfortunately for you, his outward appearance had more than fooled you into believing he was quite possibly the prettiest man you’d ever seen. His black curls slightly greying, and the tanned skin of his neck defining the muscles you were sure spread far over his whole body, the very same muscles you tried not to eye in his fitted pantaloons. Not even his desirability could make up for how he got under your skin, however, how quickly he could make your blood boil with just a few words. Besides, he was such a disagreeable man that it would be such a misfortune to be liked by him. To think, you have to spend the whole season with him for company.

Santiago Garcia was a well respected, strong willed and overall charming man of the military - well, he was an ex-lieutenant, to your father actually. A shot in the leg worsened into such a state that he could not sustain another call to fight, leaving him walking with a cane on particularly bad days. Injury in the field will bring a soldier home quicker than a woman in waiting. Not that he had one of those either. A charming man, Santiago was highly favoured by the women of the town due to his roguish good looks and silver tongue. The man could easily sway a crowd of people to follow him into the river if he so pleased.

His brave acts during his time in the British Army, although risky, yielded him high praise amongst the upper levels of society upon his return. So much so, that your newly widowed father, the Colonel, had apparently taken quite a liking to him in the times they’ve interacted. Your father had taken this liking one step further than most would, inviting Santiago into your spacious home upon his arrival. Not only does the man standing next to you sleep under the same roof as you, but has also been tasked as your personal chaperone for the marriage season. How they came to this agreement over post-dinner brandy is lost on you but regardless, you couldn’t bring yourself to be honest with your father, bile rising in your throat at the thought of crushing any friendship he found comfort in after the passing of your mother.

Your mother.

Your father spent a lot of time overseas, giving space for the love you had for your mother to grow beyond measure. He was quick to spoil you, however, finding it easier to show his affection with the latest fashion, shoes, jewellery, ribbons for your hair, chocolates from overseas, and chocolates from in town; he would give it all if only you looked at him. Your mother, however, was basically your best friend. The two of you spent hours in the family greenhouse, teaching you all about her love of botany until you were old enough to start growing your favourite flowers without her help. She tragically passed during the winter, the harsh cold taking hold of her lungs until she couldn’t bear it anymore. The nickname she gave you stuck, however, and in the months following her passing, you refused to be acknowledged by another title.

“May I request the lady’s presence to have the honour of the next dance?” a new voice pulled you out of your stupor, looking up to see a decently handsome young man extending his hand towards you.

“No, you may not, I’m afraid her dance card is already full.” Santiago answered for you, not only shutting down your new suitor, but fixing him with a stare so intense he was shaking as he quickly nodded and turned to leave. You could see him return to his support group, the other boys clapping him on the back for trying regardless of the intimidating gargoyle meant to guard you. Ironically, your dance card was not full, unless you counted Santiago’s own name on every line. Not that he ever danced with you.

You sighed heavily. Another wasted night, getting dressed up for a party in which you were just going to be rejecting any poor man who had the gall to approach and ask for a dance. This isn’t the first time he spoke for you, harshly turning someone down before you could get the words out on your own.

You suppose that’s what he thinks is his job, as your chaperone of the season. Your father trusted Santiago’s judgement of character to filter out potential suitors but as of now, it seemed, that he was just saying no for the heck of it.

“Don’t look so put out, Miss Wisteria,” Santiago murmured next to you, the nickname falling off his tongue smoothly. “This way, you leave them all wanting. Besides, I looked into most of these men. That one has debts at the racing club that he has yet to pay out.”

Even though he had a point, you couldn’t help but be envious of the girls whose mothers were at the party with them, encouraging dancing and interaction. You had gotten yourself ready with the help of your best handmaidens, taking their opinions for your outfit with zeal. You grew up without siblings, thus enjoying the friendly conversation you had with the house staff. Not that anyone outside the household knew how close you were with them, the notion of a lonesome girl without a mother, so desperate for human interaction that she reach beneath her status.

Coming downstairs in a soft lilac dress, the tulip sleeves and neckline lined with tiny sparkling beads, matching the delicate crystal necklace you donned to bring the look together. Your maid had also added some shimmering hair pins to your updo, only visible from the back of your head, which was your favourite part of your outfit. You felt rather pretty, and by the way Santiago had stared, slightly slack-jawed at you descending the staircase before collecting himself, you thought maybe he thought so, too. That was before he opened his mouth to complain about being on time and reminded you why you disliked him so.

“I was not aware of his debts. Thank you, I suppose.”

“Yes, well… that is why I am here, is it not? Your father asked me to—”

“My father asked you what exactly? Because I still don’t recall ever being told why he had to go and ask someone with the likes of you for help in this matter!” You whispered back vehemently.

“Do you truly esteem me so little?”

His soft voice betrayed his hurt, causing you to stop and look up at him in shock. This wasn’t so far off from your usual tone towards him, the two of you often bickering under your breath in the presence of others. Trying to gauge his true feelings by gazing into his espresso eyes, you concluded that maybe you were being too harsh on him. Maybe this wasn’t the ideal way he’d rather spend his time at a ball, supervising a girl’s courting experience and vetting the bachelors. No, he would probably be with the other gentlemen his age, swatting away the interested women like fleas in monsoon season.

You took a second to look at him for any tell of a lie, any sign he wasn’t as offended as you initially had thought, but the longer you looked at him the more distracted you got. Taking in the stoic man’s face, the crinkles around his eyes, the darkening shadow across his jaw as his hair was growing in, it all suited him so well that it almost had you even more angry at him for his beauty. Santiago was not that much older than you when you thought about it, probably somewhere under a decade of difference, which was not uncommon in some marriages.

Marriages? You thought with a slight panic, whipping your head to look back at the crowd, fanning yourself a little faster now. The moment had slipped from your glove-covered hands, whatever pull there was keeping your eyes trained on him you had snapped free from. In good timing, it seems, as another pathetic attempt at asking for a turn around the room was making his way towards you both. You could almost hear Santiago’s groan before the gentleman stopped in front of you, offering you a charming smile.

“Mr. Garcia,” the gentleman bowed his head to both of you after addressing you as well. “Might I have this dance?”

“Are you asking Mr. Garcia, or myself?” you ask with a short laugh, seeing as he had posed the question to your companion.

The man gave a genteel smile. “I was trying to be respectful of the present company. I know Mr. Garcia hasn’t danced all evening so this might be a chance to find him a partner.”

Your eyes flit to your companion, silently pleading with him to let at least one attempt slide past his defences.

Santiago looked at you for a moment, clearly seeing the hopefulness in your eyes before turning his eyes back on the gentleman in front of you, seemingly having come to a decision.

“Lord Miller, you make a fair judgement. I do not usually partake in such diversions, although I have been complimented on my light footedness. Miss Wisteria, if you wish to dance with Lord Miller, we shall take our leave soon after.”

The way your mother called you Wisteria oftentimes was much different to the way Santiago has been calling you that, and you tried not to think about it for too long.

Although Santiago’s words were light and jovial, you could tell from the set of his brow that he still was not entirely comfortable with the arrangement. That didn’t stop you from nearly jumping at the opportunity to dance with the handsome Lord, smiling graciously as you accepted his still-extended hand.

Making your way to the dance floor, you noticed more than a few pairs of eyes on you, probably wondering how Lord Miller made it past your sleeping dragon keeping you locked away in your proverbial tower. Keeping your chin up and not letting their eyes make you stumble, you took position for the dance.

“I will admit, Miss Wisteria, I find myself in raptures over your acceptance of this dance.”

“You flatter me, Lord Miller.”

“I cannot help it. You look exceptionally beautiful tonight. Also, if I may be so bold, I have seen how you’ve longed to dance, and thus, I took it upon myself to brave the glower of your guardian and rescue you.”

You laughed heartily at that. The conversation continued with Lord Miller discussing your shared interests in literature and past travels, and how many balls you both attended in the past two weeks alone. Lord Miller was an excellent dancer, making you feel as though you barely had to put in any effort to be gliding around the dance floor.

—

Santiago tried his best not to stare, he really did, but the way you let your head fall back in a carefree laugh at something the Lord had said to you had captured his attention unwillingly.

The thing was, you see, he was not supposed to be wanting after his ward, temporary or not. He was not supposed to watch longingly after you, walking away from him, whisked away by another more suitable potential partner, or at any other time when you weren’t watching him. He was also not supposed to jerk himself off to the thought of you in his bed, under your father’s roof, imagining how tight and wet you would be for him, how loud you would moan his name. Would you let him worship you with his hands and mouth? Would you still fight with him during the act or would you go pliant under his devoted attention?

You were a constant thorn in his side, reminding him at every chance of the magnitude of your dislike for him, your eyes meeting his angrily during your daily spats. You never gave him a chance to earn your friendship, immediately jumping to hostility once the news of him chaperoning you for the season had reached your ears. How was he to refuse your father, the generous man who offered him access to his estate as if he were a long lost son and not an old colleague? Besides, he didn’t think much of it at the time, assuming it would be an easy feat, the world of courting running its own gears for longer than he has been in the game.

Frankly, he assumed there would be at least one meddling old croon trying to pair everyone up for the season based on her predictions but she had yet to turn up to help him along.

Santiago didn’t see his attraction to you getting in the way of finding you a suitable match, but unfortunately for him, he was wading through a pool of pathetic potentials, finding a reason to reject them at every turn. It was becoming increasingly difficult to give reason for their inadequacy, not wanting to hand you off to a lesser man.

Every ball you attended together, every promenade you walked with him trailing behind you, he was doomed to watch the men flirt with you, make you laugh, share lingering glances with, and every day felt more tortuous than the last. He learned a lot about you this way, but it never felt enough. He was stuck as an observer, watching from the outside.

Was this his destiny? To fall hopelessly for his friend’s daughter and not only watch her dance with other men but be the one to hand her off to them, lying through his teeth about his feelings on the matter?

It especially did not help his case with how ethereal you looked tonight, or any night for that matter. He could not count the number of times he has thought back to that first night he stayed in your home, running into you on your way to the greenhouse at night with your white nightgown. It was basically see through, the candle you were holding sinfully illuminating your figure, nipples pebbled in the cool air. He had been on his way to the kitchen for a glass of water, being unable to sleep properly in his new chambers. You nearly dropped it when you bumped into him around the corner, his hand steadying you before you could, saving you from waking up the whole house. Santi wanted to kiss you silly every day since then.

Bringing his focus back to the present, he heard the quartet queuing up for the next song and soon saw Miller escort you back to him with your hand tucked into his arm. You were positively beaming, shifting your eyes to his with a question posed on your lips.

“Lord Miller was just telling me how he and his brother often go for boat rides on the lake near town. He has invited us to accompany him on an outing tomorrow afternoon if it is agreeable with you?”

You were blinking at him meaningfully, alerting him to the fact that they were waiting for his response on the matter. The longer he took to answer, the more stilted the silence between the three of them and the worse chance it was for you to leave the season with a suitable partner. A throat cleared, snapping Santiago out of his stupor.

“A turn about the lake sounds splendid for tomorrow! We would be delighted.” Santiago tried not to sound like he was bursting from happiness at this turn of events but he also knew that on paper, Lord Miller was of good stock and well in stature, making him a fine potential suitor for you.

“Wonderful, thank you, Mr. Garcia,” Miller bowed his head to him first before turning to you to bid you goodnight. “I am dearly looking forward to tomorrow.” He said the necessary pleasantries before leaving you two to stew in the silent aftermath.

The rest of the night passed rather normally, Santiago fetching you refreshments when your hands emptied, and before you knew it, you were finding yourself in the carriage on your way home. If you didn’t know any better, you would think he was encouraging you to drink more so as to be able to get you to use the ladies’ room more, effectively removing you from wandering eyes.

The two of you didn’t speak much out of obligatory words, you were too excited about the prospect of a turn on the lake, and he was worried with a stone in his stomach about the same idea. Escaping to your respectful chambers, you were so wrapped up in your daydreams you barely said goodnight, leaving Santiago deeply unsettled and barely able to catch a wink of sleep.

Whether he was ready for it or not, tomorrow was arriving sooner than he wanted.

#bloom for me fic #santiago garcia fanfiction #santiago garcia x reader #santiago garcia smut #santiago garcia imagine #santiago garcia fic #Santiago pope garcia fanfiction #triple frontier fanfiction #triple frontier imagine #triple frontier fanfic

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rainpebble3 · 6 months

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WIP WEDNESDAY

By the pink spots of Talos’ pantaloons is it Wednesday already? In a bit of a funk and not feeling too confident right now but why not try to push out of it?

Thank you for the tag @thequeenofthewinter !

I’ll join in by tagging @mareenavee @vivifriend @paraparadigm @dirty-bosmer @saltymaplesyrup @gilgamish @polypolymorph @snippetsrus @thana-topsy @tallmatcha and anyone else who wants to play!

No screens to accompany the wip but this is my attempt at trying to get back into the swing of things. This is a new POV for my Layers of Snow and Ash fic

Chapter?? A True Son of Skyrim

The last thing Rei thought of before the giant’s club swung into him was the furious betrayal radiating from his best friend’s face. He had recklessly gone out looking for a fight, joining a patrol on its way to exterminate some giants bothering travellers near Kynesgrove. The beautiful road was bloodstained and strewn with shattered carts, the once peaceful area was ruined but Rei didn’t care, he needed that intensity. He relished the adrenaline burning through his veins as he fought the pain from his confrontation with Mea. It was his shitty luck that one of the bastards had swung for him. Time slowed down before the impact and Rei was forced to face the bitter questions, what happened between him and Mea? How had it gone so wrong?

His eyes shut as the club smashed into his gut and opened again in the Palace of the King’s infirmary. It took him a moment to recognise where he was. Everywhere in Windhelm was made of the same grey blocks and his ears were ringing too much to pick up on any sounds around him. He lay on a surprisingly comfortable bed, so it definitely wasn’t his parents’ house. His body felt lighter, his armour had been removed but there were the remnants of weight on his chest.

Slowly, he moved a finger, then another, and another until the feeling returned to his extremities. With that feeling came pain. Inescapable, pulsating agony. He cursed softly, attracting the attention of a healer.

The friendly blond healer smiled at him, a familiar and comforting expression. It was one Rei unconsciously returned and then grimaced. He tried to steady his breathing, but the persistent ache of broken ribs dulled his senses.

#skyrim #skyrim fanfiction #the elder scrolls v: skyrim #modded skyrim #wip wednesday #elder scrolls #writing #tes #tesblr #thanks for the tag friend <3

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justafairytailofinnocence · 8 months

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James Norrington x male pirate reader? Maybe the pirate got caught by James, heading to the gallows, but James free them instead?

Hello dear, thanks for your request.

James Norrington x male pirate reader 🏴‍☠️⚔ A matter of time⚓

Synopsis: James frees someone from his past from the gallows

Warning: mention's of hanging

The prison of Port Royal was rustic and unkempt; all the cells were lined in an orderly set of rows. Many men within the cells screamed and cursed names that shan’t have been brought to light. The officers at the entrance door wore red regimental coats and white shirts. Over the shirts were cross belts and grey breeches held by braces. They both wore black naval tricorne hats whilst their long hair was tied back with black ribbons. They held their Brown Bess muskets upright, gazing at a man formerly walking down the hall. The man wore a blue, full-skirted royal naval uniform made of wool fitted with very deep boot cuffs. He wore a white powdered wig with a black tricorn adorned with white feathers around the top. He held his hands behind his back, looking stern yet pristine, ignoring the prisoner's squabbles. The two lower-ranked officers saluted him, allowing him passage. He kept walking past all the cells while the prisoners shouted, “Oi, get’s me outta ere’!”, “Aye, I’m beggin ya”, “Lad, Lad, I’ll give ye three shillings fer tha keys”. He scowled at the sight of them, ‘good-for-nothing filthy pirates’ he thought. Scoundrels that held no honour or morals did all they did was steal, pillage, plunder, and commit the most treasonous crimes. His hatred for pirates stemmed from his childhood, ever since his father taught him. He despises any mentions of their names; to think anyone foolish enough to become one deserves a short drop and sudden stop.

The commodore halted in front of a particular cell, his eyes gazing coldly at the pirate seated in the corner. “I trust you’ve saved your prayers, for you shall hang at the gallows on this day”, he spoke with a deep, strict voice. The pirate in question was relatively quiet, unlike the others, he held no regard to acknowledge the commodore's presence. He was quite an untidy fellow, his hair in a mess, wearing a brown tricorn clothed with a brown frock coat and poet blouse. He wore black pantaloons and brown boots for shoes. The commodore had no care if the buccaneer wished to speak or act like a rapscallion. He was set to hang. “Do keep you’re your spirits high Mr L/n, I do believe your worthless life might just end quicker after all”.

The pirate, in turn, glanced up at the austere man with cold eyes. It seemed unfounded how a man had a deep detestation over one's life because they deemed themselves pirates. Had he known what true freedom was, one might say he would turn too. “Aye, keep yer knickers on, I know tis be me day of death, least I get ta visit fiddlers green in the afterlife”. James sternly spoke, “I believe where you’ll wind up, they’ll be no ‘fiddlers green’ but only your sinful damnation”.

The commodore ordered the naval officers to drag this scoundrel to the gallows. “Before ye send me ter me grave in Davy Jones’s locker, I ask why ye betrayed em’ commodore”. The statement in general, made James curious and halted the officers from opening the cell. “And what business do you wish to pry of mine, Mr L/n”.

“Cutler be at large, and ye stand thar a prideful man tha betrayed sparrah’s crew, hell, ye betrayed er—”.

“Whatever nosy rumours you’ve heard of is none of your concern.” The commodore furrowed his brows as his voice grew harsher.

“Aye but tis is, fer I recall a lass and lad back on that island searching fer a coffer” The pirate’s voice grew louder. “Why, don’t-che remember James, I was thar when ye ran wit tha chest, I saw ye leave Jack, Will and Miss Swann”.

“Don’t!” James growled.

“Yer guilty, tis written in yer deadlights”. It was impossible to reason; the pirate was a part of Jack’s crew and had pledged his loyalty to the captain. However, it all changed when the commodore came along, looking like a lost sod. He was a mess in a heap; his rank had become soiled. How could y/n not care for him? He was lost at sea in his state of well-being, drunk. Over time the two had formed a kindred relationship; they both bonded over the loss of their adventures and their devotion to their loved ones—James with Elizabeth and Y/n with Jack. Everything was going well when James betrayed the crew and turned y/n in. Left and set to hang for dead.

Albeit twas y/n’s fault for falling into such a bittersweet lie. Indeed, y/n cared for the commodore more than he should have. Oh alas, and ruin, a man’s yearning heart set on the beating beauty for a lass he is not.

James inhaled and quickly exhaled, displaying a sign of annoyance. He ordered the guards to open the cell and drag y/n out. With both on each side with one arm latched roughly around y/n’s, they began to head toward the gallows—or what should’ve been that way.

Upon exiting the building, the gentle pitter-patter of raindrops could be heard around Y/N. The individual took a moment to inhale the refreshing scent of the precipitation, relishing in its natural aroma. The droplets cascaded down from the sky, creating a stunning display as they contacted the pavement and pooled into small puddles. Y/N couldn't help but feel immensely grateful for the opportunity to stand in place and bask in the mesmerising allure of the rain. As they moved, he savoured every moment of his freedom, relishing every breath of air inhaled and exhaled. Closing his eyes, he felt the raindrops caress his cheeks, cascading gently down his face. As the naval officers led him to the gallows, Y/n took in his surroundings with a sense of calm. His last breath left him, and he opened his eyes to the sight of the rolling sea, gently lapping against the docks of the bustling port. The sound of waves crashing against the shore was soothing to his ears, and he imagined himself on a grand galleon, sailing towards the mythical Fiddler's Green with the wind in his hair. The view of the vast horizon was breathtaking, and he took it all in as he walked towards his destination. Every adventure he had flashed before his eyes, Jack Sparrow, Joshamee Gibbs, Elizabeth Swann, Will Turner and—

James.

Suddenly, the naval officers stopped and pushed the rogue before them. Y/n opened his eyes, feeling disoriented by the new surroundings. He expected to see the gallows and an angry crowd chanting his name in hatred, but instead, he found himself somewhere else, without the Hempen Holter.

They stood by the wooden dock where a schooner was anchored. All the sailors were carrying cargo onboard. As Y/n swivelled around, they were met with a rather grave countenance on James' face. His hands were firmly clasped at his back, and his brows were knitted together in a manner that suggested deep concern. Y/n, perplexed by his demeanour, approached the admiral's chains that were still attached to their wrists and legs. "Care ta enlighten me, James? Are ye tryna hornswoggle me mind?” y/n asked. The admiral swiftly ordered the naval officers to be dismissed, leaving the two of them alone. James drew closer to Y/n and removed the chains from their arms and legs, freeing them from their constraints. Y/n exaggeratedly stretched his arms while moving his arms from side to side. “I must admit, yer surely an odd one James”.

James grasped y/n by his shoulders and revealed his true expression of genuine worry. “Quickly, you don’t have much time, get on while you can—I don’t expect you or Elizabeth to forgive me but I can at least atone for my sins by saving you”.

As Y/n fixed his gaze upon the magnificent schooner, his eyes were brimming with a sense of purpose and longing. "Come with me, together we can break free from our current constraints an’ embark upon a new path," he suggested with a hopeful tone, inviting his companion to take the leap of faith with him. “Our paths may intertwine in the future y/n, but I mustn’t let Beckett know of Elizabeth’s whereabouts—neither your own.

"Go, now” "Please understand," he stated firmly, his expression stern and unwavering. In a sudden surge of emotion, James took hold of the pirate's shoulders and pressed his lips against his with an intense force, leaving them both gasping for breath. Y/n found themselves wrapped up in James's embrace, feeling the softness of his admiral's coat against their skin. "Tif fate allows us to reunite in Fiddler's Green, each and every treasure chest will bear your name, and I shall cherish em’ with all me heart."

As Y/n stepped onto the ship, he couldn't help but feel a twinge of sadness in his heart as he left James behind. They hurriedly made their way through onto the ship as they prepared to set sail. Meanwhile, James watched from a distance, his eyes locked on Y/n's retreating form, his hands clasping behind him, wishing desperately that Y/n could stay with him just a little bit longer. The helmsman shouted, “Prepare to set sail”. With one last look, y/n locked eyes with James and nodded as a departing gesture. “Aye, cap’n!” y/n shouted to the helmsman.

With a heavy heart, James gazed upon the ship as it slowly drifted away from the harbour, carrying away the one person who had captured his heart completely - y/n. As he watched the vessel shrink in the distance, he couldn't help but feel a deep sense of worry and fear creeping up on him. He prayed fervently, hoping that his beloved would reach his destination safely and unharmed and that he would be able to find a new life filled with hope and happiness. Despite his own pain and despair, James knew that he had to remain strong and focused, no matter what challenges he might face.

Anyways that's all I have for now:

Ta Ta ✨

#potc #james norrington x reader #james norrington x male reader #james norrington oneshot #potc x reader #pirates of the caribbean #pirates of the caribbean x reader

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muffimtv · 15 days

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this even though you dont write rn

🥑🥤💌🌻🧃🍄🪐📚🍬🦷❄️🥐🏜️<- (general art creation) 🦋🐚🐝🌸🎨🧩

YOU ARE INSANE

🥑 - you accidentally killed somebody, which mutual(s) do you text for help?

@fuzziecorpse @bathtubswooo and @h3xrts4-me

🥤- recommend an author or fanfic you love

sing, sweet cicada on ao3! my partner and i loved it so much that i bound a copy for him!

💌 - how many unread emails do you have right now?

22!

🌻 - tag someone you appreciate but don't talk to on a regular basis

@crikey01 your tag games are so silly i love them

🧃- share some personal lore you never posted about before

ooh fun question!! whenever it rains i try to go lay out on the roof of my car, it’s very fun :3

🍄 - share a head canon for one of your favourite ships or pairings

its so hard for me to pick just one pairing BUT currently jmart is on my mind so! i think martin likes having little streaks of color in his hair and jon likes to dye his grey streaks to match

🪐- name three good things going on in your life right now

i got my brother into one of my favorite shows, i’m working on a fursuit, and prom is next week!

📚- what's the last thing you wrote down in your notes app?

a fic idea i had at literally 2am yesterday

🍬 - post an unpopular opinion about a popular fandom character

genuinely i cannot think of oen LMAO

🦷 - share some personal wisdom or a life hack you swear on

learn to sew!! it’ll have you a lot of money on things like hemming pants/dresses, repairing clothing, and making them too

❄️ - what's your dream theme/plot for a fic, and who would write it best?

i’m always a sucker for coffee shop aus man…..

🥐 - name one internet reference that will always make you laugh

my brother and i always use “empty the compartments of your pantaloons” and one of us will respond “FOR WHAT PURPOSE???” and it always makes me giggle

🏜️- what's your favourite type of comment to receive on your work?

those ones that are like “SCREMAING CRYING SOBBING THROWING UP EATING MY WALLS”

🦋 - share something that has been on your heart and mind lately

JMART 🔥🔥🔥

🐚 - do you like or dislike surprises?

i like them usually!

🐝 - tag your biggest supporter(s) and say one nice thing about them

@fuzziecorpse hiii i love you <3

@notroadkills u are so funny king

@crikey01 YOUR ART IS SO GOOD LET ME EAT IT

🌸 - do you have any pets? if you do, post some pictures of them

my baby bunny easter (she is actually terribly old)

woe, baby be upon ye

🎨 - link your favourite piece of fanart and explain why you like it

this martin art. specifically the second one 😭😭 that little image was ALL that was on my mind when i was in my ACT today

🧩 - what will make you click away from a fanfiction immediately?

NO PARAGRAPH BREAKS OR PUNCTUATION

PLEASEEEE I DONT WANT TO READ A BLOCK OF TEXT MY EYES ARENT MADE TO HANDLE IT

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honeybeezgobzzzzz · 1 year

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𓅨 As Dawn Breaks: Chapter Twenty-Five

As Dawn Breaks: Mother Night and Father Time, after having sired seven Endless to personify life in the known universe, create Earth and human life begins. One last Endless is created: Dawn, the personification of illumination and hope, the beginning of a new day and a chance for happiness and improvement. A love will span thousands of millennia, breaking with every sunrise and renewing hope come sunset. Yet, even the personification of hope can lose the very notion of her existence from the sting of a broken heart.

Warnings: None.

To Note: Dream/Morpheus x Endless!FemaleReader(Dawn), This Involves Themes That Are Not For Everyone.

Word Count: ~2.1k

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“I do not understand why these pantaloons have to be so tight,” You murmured as you stared at the tight material clinging to your legs in your mirror. Zinnia cocked her head to the side.

“I believe they are called jeans, my lady.” She helpfully supplied before frowning. “But I do not understand why they are so form-fitting.” You hummed in agreement as your fingers trailed across the course fabric covering your legs. You couldn’t lie to yourself and say that while it did feel odd, you kind of liked not having long skirts hindering your legs as you walked. It was freeing. Your eyes dropped to the little boots you had seen from the Waking World. They were black and had cute little buckles on the sides. Fashion had changed in the last few centuries, getting less restrictive.

“Hmm, I am just happy that they are comfortable,” You echoed your thoughts, tugging on the ends of your shirt.

“Well, at least you are covered my lady,” Ruta stated as she bustled into your room carrying a light grey coat. She held it in her hands to help you into it, and you spied the swirling meadows and flowering fields hidden within the lining. You could almost feel the summer breeze blowing from the coat Ruta had hand-stitched just for you, the scent of freshly blooming flowers.

“I believe you spoil me, Ruta,” You sighed as she helped you into the light grey pea coat, looking down at the carefully stitched buttons, your fingers slipped them through the little notches. The handmaiden chuckled at you and picked at nonexistent lint.

“You are mine to spoil, my lady,” She teased you before a more serious look appeared on her face. While she was elated to see you so happy once more, she worried that should Dream break your heart a second time, you wouldn’t survive. Ruta could help pick up the pieces of a broken heart, but one that turned to dust? No one would be able to resuscitate their beloved Lady Dawn. “Dawn…” You glanced into the face of your oldest handmaiden.

“I know what you want to tell me, Ruta.” You softly spoke, looking down at your weaved fingers. “I’m foolish to allow someone who hurt me so deeply before, back into my life.”

“Not foolish, my lady,” She told you, moving to stand in front of you so she could pick at your hair, tucking flyaways and smoothing out bumps. “You are Dawn of the Endless, and you were made to be endlessly hopeful. It is your very make and design that I fear hurts you.”

“I was made to augment and support dreams,” You replied, understanding her worries. “A piece of my essence is missing and only Morpheus can fill that hole.”

Ruta let her fingers cup your face as she looked at you in a motherly tone.

“Your essence is precious and fragile, regardless of your design, my beautiful Dawn. We have done all that we can to protect you from the universe but there is nothing we can do to save you from the sting and ruin of heartbreak.” You raised a hand and placed it over Rita’s.

“I know,” Your pursed your lips and aired out a gentle sigh. “But I fear that I cannot bloom without him.” That was the entire reason Ruta feared for you in the first place. Morpheus held your fragile essence within his hands and with one mishandling on his part, you would break.

Morpheus was sure you had no idea, but as you both walked down the street towards the New Inn, you were looking at your surroundings in pure wonder and awe. You were adorable and all Morpheus wished to do at this moment was to drag you to the nearest alley and kiss you until you melted beneath him. Your endearing wonder of the Waking World had Morpheus promising himself that he would show you whatever you desired to see.

“Why do you scorn this world so much?” You asked, your bright and excited eyes turning back to his. Morpheus’s brow crinkled at your words and tightened his grasp on the hand that he held.

“It is not that I scorn the waking world, my Hope,” Morpheus answered, gazing down into your face and unable to hide his pure reverence from you. Any passing mortal would see just how in love he was with you with but a glance. “Mortals can be cruel to our kind if their desires get the better of them. Surely you know of the imbalance that occurred due to my absence.” You hummed in acknowledgment, leaning into his side. Morpheus adored your closeness.

“Don’t focus on their flaws, Morpheus, complete perfection is boring and lacks inspiration.” You reminded him. “Is their uniqueness and faults what makes them so beautiful and reverent?” Morpheus couldn’t help but look down at you with the same reverence that you spoke of mortals.

“You hold so much faith in them,” He commented. Your lips twitched as you looked up into his face.

“And you not enough,” You chided him before looking at the building you were walking towards. The sign read The New Inn. It was a cute building, homely and welcoming. You could also add that the planter boxes with vines and trellises brightened the space… “This is quite nice, I like the vines.” Morpheus’s lips twitched as you approached the door. He held it open for you and gave you a knowing smile.

“Are plants all you notice beloved?” Morpheus questioned you teasingly. “If I bring you to the greatest of all mortal kind makings will you even notice their beauty or shall you be distracted by the shrubbery?” You knew he was teasing you, but your nose still scrunched at him as you entered the bar.

“I would too,” You huffed as Morpheus walked up behind you and took your hand once more. You looked up at him with a dirty look. “I can appreciate something other than plants.” He raised an eyebrow in skepticism and you huffed and rolled your eyes. “Obviously I need to show you my Michelangelo garden… he was particularly happy to work on it for a century.”

“If you wish so, my beloved,” Morpheus called as he guided you by hand towards the table Hob sat at, observing you and him in amusement.

“Twice in one century? What calls for this occasion?” Hob questioned as Morpheus guided you over and pulled out a chair for you. You sat down and smiled at the immortal human, glad to finally meet someone who had managed to befriend Morpheus.

“It seems I know plenty about you, but you know seldom of me,” Morpheus spoke to Hob as he took a seat next to you. Morpheus looked at you. “This is Dawn, my beloved Hope and guiding star within the vast expanse of space and time.” Hob’s eyebrow went up at Morpheus’s declaration and you chewed your lip before softly giggling.

“I am the physical embodiment of hope,” You explained with a wide smile. “It is nice to meet you, Hob Gadling, I’ve never met someone who has managed to behind friend Morpheus… let alone a human.”

“My Hope,” Morpheus rumbled, heat blooming on his cheeks. You giggled and leaned over to kiss his pink cheek.

“I am glad to know he has done so,” You added, blue eyes meeting yours and softening. “You are far too broody my love,”

“Broody?” Morpheus repeated disbelief. You raised your hand and brushed your fingers across his jaw, yet again loving his sculpted face.

“Oh quite so, you need to smile more, my Dream. You are far too serious.” You told him. Morpheus sighed at you before turning his attention back to Hob.

“It was surely time you met her, but now I fear that she will spill all my secrets to you.” Hob chuckled and leaned forwards.

“I wouldn’t mind hearing a thing or two.” You grinned at the immortal and Morpheus felt his essence sink within his body. Perhaps it was a mistake to introduce you to Hob because Morpheus was sure you would spill many stories about him.

“Well I would like to learn how you of all humans met Morpheus, he’s not the most sociable.” You asked, your eyes sparkling with interest as you looked at Hob. Hob was all too happy to tell you the story of how he gained immortality and met Dream of the Endless. It was fascinating to learn of how Hob’s life had gone up and down, and how even at his lowest, he still wished for eternal life. “You have lived quite vicarious, Hob, I’m happy to see that you have lived your life fully.”

“Hm, there’s always something to learn, to experience. Technology and innovation change with every century so it never gets monotonous.” Hob explained to you, finding how bright and happy your face was at his story, endearing. As the embodiment of hope, you exuded it and made Hob feel a surge of hope. “I’d say hope has kept me going even when my life was at its worse, so thanks for that.”

“That’s why I exist,” You shrugged happily before remembering something. “Speaking of which,” You turned to Morpheus. “Can we go see the Kyoto Gardens? I’ve been itching to start a new one but don’t know where to start.” Morpheus blinked at you, then raised his eyebrow. Your eyes turned to innocent pleading. He sighed.

“Forgive us, Hob, but I believe I require showing my beloved the Kyoto Garden.” Hob didn’t even bother hiding his grin as he chuckled. You had Morpheus wrapped around your finger and Hob doubted that you even knew.

“Don’t let me hold you up, I’m sure Dawn here will enjoy the garden. If I remember correctly, it’s quite beautiful and relaxing.” Hob commented, tilting his head to the side. “I think you get plenty of inspiration walking through it.” You beamed and looked at Morpheus once more.

“See! Now we have to go and see it!” You exclaimed excitedly. “Oh and if they have koi fish! I do love them so much! Never been able to have them in my communal gardens because the kelpies keep eating them… but if I make a private one in my castle…” You continued to rattle on about making a koi fish-inspired garden as Morpheus and Hob shared smiles.

You and Morpheus were sitting on a benching the Kyoto Garden, enjoying the pretty sights and Japanese plants. Well, you were enjoying the plants… Morpheus was enjoying you. It wasn’t hard to put a smile on your face, no, all one had to do was bring you to a garden, or a nice park. Humming under your breath, you turned your attention to the koi fish lazily swimming around. Yes, you were making a private garden with Koi fish now, they were so beautiful…Morpheus slipped his fingers into yours and rose from the bench, pulling you with him. You looked at him with raised eyebrows while he started leading you closer to the pond.

“Surely with how you look at the fish with reverence you would appreciate a closer look, my Hope,” Morpheus told you, looking down into your face with a knowing smile. You flushed lightly, realizing how much you had to be projecting your excitement for him to draw you closer. You tended to fully express your love and passion, exuberance was a trait you were well equipped in. But surely it grew tiresome for others.

“Apologies if you grow tired of my jubilation,” You spoke meekly, toeing the neat cobbled path beneath your leather boots. “Is there anything you would like to enjoy or speak of?” Morpheus gazed down at your gentle and lovely feet, his eyes crinkling at the corners.

“I will never grow tired of your excitement and elation for that which you love. It is more than enough for me to watch you express your happiness.” Morpheus reassured you, pulling you around so you were standing in front of him. You beamed up at him as he gazed down at you in adoration, and while you two were staring at each other with the full intensity of your shared ardor, a pair of old sisters passed by and giggled at the sight.

“Oh aren’t they adorable!”

“You don’t see love like that every one hundred years!”

Morpheus was vaguely aware of the mortals chittering and cooing not that far from where he and you stood, but his attention was fully on your radiating happiness. It was bliss.

Date Published: 4/10/23

Last Edit: 4/10/23

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#morpheus x reader #morpheus #lord morpheus #sandman x reader #the sandman x reader #dream of the endless x reader #dream x reader #dream the endless #dream of the endless #the sandman netflix #the sandman #dream the endless x reader

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miqo-tales · 8 months

Text

Calm Travels

Makai Markswoman's Ribbon

Cape of Happiness (Seafog Blue)

Bard's Ringbands

Peacelover's Pantaloons (Slate Grey)

Makai Markswoman's Longboots

#ffxiv #tiaratym #ffxiv glamour #viera

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beasty-xoxo · 1 year

Text

I - Have Pity

The morning air was crisp, still humid from last night's rain. The people of Peregrin woke early in the mornings to begin their days, carrying out their duties under the gentle shining of the freshly wakened sun.

The crinkle of the paper in your father's hands rang out through the small carriage, the noise of the hustle and bustle of the capital city Aves barely forcing into the secluded space.

You sat across from him, a frown etched into your lips as you fought with the skirt of your gown. It was a fancy thing, lacy and flouncy and just the right combination of cloths to accentuate all the assets a young lady like yourself typically wanted to showcase. The color complimented your eyes, and the tone of your skin.

You would usually be delighted to be heading out for a party. It wasn't often you were able to attend them– but you often enjoyed indulging in sweet, fancy treats while listening to the symphonies of a talented orchestra. It wasn't something you got to do in your childhood.

Unfortunately, this party spelled for your doom.

A reception full of men of whom your father served with during his time in the military was the last thing you wanted to stomach this evening. Not a single one of those men approved of your father's methods in raising you, or the fact that he had no son and planned to leave his legacy to you.

Worst of all, there was one thing about the party that really wracked your nerves.

"Looks like the prince's attendance is all over the paper." Your father folded the paper. From the sides you caught some of the words pressed in ink. Words like 'His Royal Highness!' and 'Unexpected Arrival'.

"That printing press certainly makes things more interesting, huh? When you were younger all of our news came in the form of letters." Your father nudged you with a grin.

Arthur Olores was an older man, reaching towards the middle of his life. He had not lost his stature from his years of service to the crown. He was tall, and broad. The darkness of his hair had begun to turn wiry with his age, and his beard had started to grey, no matter how hard the man tried to hide it. His hands were calloused from years of handling guns and ships, and his face was creased with his years.

You were always told you resembled your mother, but let a man spend a minute in a room with you and he will see the vigor and will of your father shining through.

"Father, I don't mean any disrespect– none at all– but how long will I have to go to this stuffy party and flounce around with all of these obnoxious rich people?" Your nose crinkled at the thought.

Arthur sighed, shaking his head. "These men served with me, Y/N. They aren't all nobility. This party will be fun. You can dance, and maybe indulge in a drink."

You rolled your eyes.

"It WAS a party of your old war friends, until news got out about Prince Tobio and his royal pantaloons making an appearance. It's going to be absolutely swamped with stuffy nobles."

"Well, that may be true. But, Y/N… you would do good to remember we fall under the stuffy noble category now. We have for awhile."

You sighed– and as much as you didn't want to admit it– your father was right. The old king had granted him a Dukedom. Control over a territory of his choice. Your father was high ranking nobility by the order of the crown.

And so were you…

"Our nobility is different. You fought wars for it. Most of these men were just born with the privilege." You picked at your nails, trying to ignore your father's eyes. Looking into the eyes of Arthur Olores was enough to strip a person of all of their defenses. His eyes were strong, and you were convinced that your father could rend the truth out of anyone.

"Perhaps. But it doesn't change that I now share similar responsibilities with those men… one of those responsibilities is to honor the crown wherever it may be. And at this moment, Prince Tobio is here in Peregrin's capital. I expect you to engage in your most lady-like behavior."

He ended the conversation by returning to his paper, leaving you to groan in annoyance at his truthful statement. As much as you disliked the idea, it was now your responsibility, as a woman of age, to engage in the games that nobles played with their fake smiles and smokey eyes.

Your eyes traveled back to the glass window beside you, peering down at the cobblestone roads as they rolled past. You figured your father must have been going senile in his old age.

You? Behaving in a lady-like manner with these men who held no respect for you? Preposterous. Your father did not raise you to smile and nod. Your father taught you to hunt, to bargain, to shoot. Sure, you could dance circles around men your age, but you were much better handling the business negotiations your father tested you with.

The men of Peregrin lived with ideals the same as pathetic, old celibates. These men believed women could not hold their own in conversation with men. That women should stick to their child-rearing and eyelash batting. That a woman holding a gun was a crime against humanity, not to mention holding a Dukedom.

In truth, you knew very little about what women your age were supposed to be. You knew very little about men– except where to shoot them to keep them down, or where to plug them to keep them alive.

Your father had scrambled in the last of your adolescent years to prepare you. He hired you a Governess.

She was an older woman– gaunt, cruel, and unmarried. She ridiculed you often for not understanding what she called basic etiquette, and so her lessons never really stuck. Besides, child-rearing is the job of your mother– not a random woman without any children of her own.

The music could be heard from a street away, carriages upon carriages lining the buildings as noblemen and their ladies spilled out in piles of over-priced fabrics. You spotted some maidens your age– fresh-faced and starry-eyed. You wondered how many, if any, of them were here to catch a glimpse of His Royal Highness.

Crown Prince Tobio, heir to the throne of Peregrin. He is said to be tall, brooding and charming as all get out. He's the same age as you– just barely considered a man. You knew not to trust the paper's opinion of royalty.

To publicly criticize any member of the crown is absolute social suicide, if not an actual death sentence. It was like that in many kingdoms, and Peregrin was no different. So, any kind of public address was the written form of kissing his boots.

You couldn't imagine any of it was true. If he was so handsome and charming, why had he not yet claimed a wife? That was the sort of thing royalty did before they could even walk.

You could hear the sputtering of the horses as your carriage was startled to a stop. You had been parked near the curb, and the door popped open as a coachman offered you his arm.

"My Lord Olores. My Lady Olores. We have arrived."

A frown found your lips as you grabbed your gloves from your side and took the man's hand. He helped you from the vehicle, your father following.

"Thank you, son." Your father placed a few golden coins in his palm. "Have yourself a merry evening, hm?" Arthur gave him a smile, and the coachman bowed.

"Thank you, My Lord. I will do so." And soon, he was already headed away from the crowded street.

You pulled on your gloves, watching as your father straightened his jacket.

"Now, Y/N. You remember what I asked of you, girl?"

You rolled your eyes. "But of course, father. Today I am to go against anything you have ever taught me, and hang onto every syllable from any man's lips."

Your father sighed at your sarcastic tone. "Mercy. Just– try to be friendly. This is a party, not a political gathering." You took his arm as you started towards the door.

"You misunderstand, father. Parties are notoriously political."

The reception was nothing short of a marvel. It had high ceilings, and the rafters sported gold-encrusted and crystalline chandeliers. The fire in its lamps illuminated the ballroom, the tables piled high with sweets and drinks. Nobles from all over the kingdom danced around the floor, and if you looked carefully you could even pick out a few foreigners.

Even with your fancy gown, you felt a little underdressed. Of course the other maidens your age wore their best. Their fathers wanted to catch His Royal Highness' eye.

Your father had never once pressured you towards marriage, even when the young men of the Dukedom would approach you in courting. After all, you were to be a Duchess. You didn't need to marry up any further, as your family was bound for comfort with such a title. Comfort was all you needed– vast riches were unnecessary.

Your father was regarded with many nods and cheers after his announcement, as well as eyes turning upon you.

It was true that you had worked up a bit of a reputation around your father's territory for being kind and beautiful. You felt it was all poppycock. After all, human decency to the "commoners" and workers in your territory should be considered commonplace– not kindness.

Alas, they had started to call you "Swan of Cygnus"-- a rather embarrassing title, if you had any say.

Why must they equate you to a bird such as a swan? Graceful, delicate, beautiful. You wouldn't describe yourself in such a manner.

"Arthur! How are you, old pal?" You could feel your father jolt a little, and surely enough a man had grasped him by his shoulder.

You watched your father turn his head, his eyes catching yours for a fraction of a second before his lips split into a grin.

"Henry! You've gotten fatter!"

Both men were lost to raucous laughter as they embraced. A tiny smile found you, hands shifting inside your gloves before you crossed them over your waist. Henry had been your father's friend for many years. You knew him well– but didn't particularly like him in your youth.

"You can say that again! Wealth has kept me rather complacent! I fear war is far in my past." Henry nudged your father in the chest. "But look at you! Still a bull of a man, eh?" He looked as though he would speak again, but soon his eyes found you and a quality in them changed.

"Oh! Could you be Y/N?" His eyes were like saucers, taking you in. "My dear, you have grown to be quite fair! You look just as beautiful as your mother."

"Hey, watch it. Y/N is my daughter, and Martha is still my wife." Your father flashed his wedding band, and you had to look away from Henry's gaze.

"Thank you for such high praise, My Lord Clarke." You tried to smile at him, your father looking pleased with your behavior. Henry only laughed, holding out his palm for your hand. You placed it in his, and watched as he politely raised your gloved knuckles to his lips.

"I watched you grow up, Y/N! Henry is just fine!" His belly shook with his laughter, making him appear rather jolly.

"I was real surprised when you chose old Cygnus as your primary residence! Heard you fixed the place up real nice." He smiled at your father. "Crime is down, wages are up. You transformed that old town into something Martha would really be proud of. I don't know how you did it– but I'm glad she's kept your mind set."

He stopped when he seemed to remember something– looking at you once more. "Oh- you remember my eldest son Simon, don't you?" Henry's eyes searched the venue and you could feel distaste burn on the tip of your tongue. Your father shook his head. You sighed.

"Quite so. Couldn't…" You cleared your throat. "Couldn't forget him if I tried." You forced it out just as Henry had waved someone over.

A man approached. Tall, lithe, and could have been considered handsome if you didn't know of the ghastly nature beneath. Simon looked just as his father did in his youth– strapping. The perfect soldier. With the brewing war, he just might become one.

"You called for me, father?" Simon looked down at you, curiosity lacing his chestnut gaze.

Simon was unkind to you in your youth. He made fun of how you walked, how you looked. It only got worse when your father started preparing you to be a Duchess.

"My boy! You would remember Lord Olores– and of course his beautiful daughter, Y/N." Henry nudged his son forwards, and Simon's gaze was suddenly full of surprise.

"Y-Y/N? Oh my- you've… well you look quite beautiful this evening." He gave you a bow, taking your hand and placing an actual kiss to your glove. How uncharacteristically polite.

"Simon." Your voice was level– not expressing any special opinion. It was vague. "I would hope you and your family are faring well."

Henry laughed at your response. "Simon here is unmarried! No family just yet, my dear!" The older man's eyes caught your father's and bile rose in your throat at the prospect of marrying a man who had tormented you as a child.

"Ah, well that is a shame. I'm sure there are many willing young ladies. Perhaps some are even in this very room." You looked to your father, eyes screaming for some kind of get away. He looked highly amused with your struggle.

Simon gave a deep laugh. It came from his chest– it even sounded sweet. "As eloquent as ever, My Lady Olores. I was hoping I might share in a dance with you?"

The thought of dancing– especially with Simon– seemed about as unappealing as possible at the moment.

"Oh, Simon. I'm afraid I'm actually feeling quite faint at the moment. Perhaps we could dance after I've had something to eat?" You took your hand from his grip. He seemed a little dazed by your rejection before nodding enthusiastically.

"Of course. I eagerly await you in your best health, My Lady."

You nodded with a smile, taking your father's arm and stepping off with him towards the tables of food.

"Well, Simon seems quite taken with you, hm?" Your father nudged you playfully and you scoffed as you nudged him back.

"Never– not in a million years– would I ever marry Simon Clarke." You made a fake gagging sound, sending your father into another fit of laughter.

"Oh, I know my dear. I wouldn't ask you to. That boy does seem rather different, though." He nodded to himself, grabbing a pastry to try.

You kept to yourself that it was likely because of your new womanly wiles.

You looked to the table of fancy treats, noticing that a few could easily be considered "common food." It made you think that once the Prince's arrival was announced, they made some changes to the menu.

You settled for a simple jelly bun– warm and soft. Not too sweet but perfectly filling. If you ate too much your dress would start to suffocate you– and the bodice was tight enough already.

The jelly squished from the bun as you bit into it, pressing past your lips. You hardly cared, humming at the savory flavor. You took a napkin to clean around your lips.

You could hear a commotion, rolling your eyes and trying to turn away from it. You would hate to have to actually meet the Prince. Unfortunately for you, your father seemed to have other plans.

He shoved a glass in your hand, taking the bun and placing it elsewhere as the commotion drew closer. He pulled you close, ignoring your pout over your lost meal.

"Best behavior. I believe His Highness is approaching…"

You bit back a groan, trying to take a dignified sip of your glass. You were disappointed to find it was a virgin drink. You would face His Highness without any alcohol.

Two men broke through the crowd, arms wrapped around one another as they sang some kind of song. They were both very clearly intoxicated– dressed in very nice clothing and giggling up a fit. You had to stifle a laugh. Surely not. Surely neither of these men could be the great Prince Tobio.

One was rather short– a shock of dark hair drooping over his cheekbones. Blonde hairs fell between his eyes. The other was taller and much stockier. His hair was cut down to the scalp.

You gave your father's arm a squeeze, looking up at him. "Those two… which one is His Almighty Magnificent Highness?" You were giggling now, too. Your father stopped you with the coldness in his serious gaze.

"Neither. that is his highness…" he nodded forwards.

You followed his eyes, and the air left your lungs.

He stepped forwards, each step a display of his grace. He was tall– very tall. Your eyes followed up his fancily-dressed form. Strong legs, broad expanse of chest, up and up to his face– only to find his eyes already on you.

They shone brighter than the most brilliant of sapphires. In fact, they were so bright that they burned.

He was positively radiant– high cheekbones and shiny black hair that complimented those eyes. The papers had not been exaggerating.

The procession– Prince and his colleagues– surrounded you and your father. They were all smiles and joyful greetings. All but His Highness. His demeanor was as cold as ice– and his eyes finally left you to instead freeze your father.

Arthur Olores dropped into a deep bow, and you followed in the most polite curtsy you could manage.

"Your Highness! Arthur Olores, at your service and eternally bearing my gratitude." He lifted and so did you. "Allow me to introduce my only child, Y/N."

The Prince looked at you once again. You felt an urge to hit your father for bringing the attention to you once more. Thankfully, the Prince's eyes returned to your father.

"It is a pleasure to finally meet you, Lord Olores. Forgive the impudence of my drunken company." His voice was curt and his sentence seemed blunt and cut short. You could appreciate straightforward conversation– but it felt strange coming from royalty.

"Oh, of course My Prince. This is a celebration, after all. Though I must ask– and please forgive my curiosity– what made you decide to grace this humble gathering?"

The Prince glanced around the room, his brows scrunching together.

"I'm here for you, actually." The Prince moved in closer. "Cygnus was a dingy old waste of space."

Shock met your face, but before you could speak in defense of your home he continued.

"You returned and made it into this kingdom's most influential trading port." He nodded– someone behind him spoke up.

"You have wine, and crop, and I hear enough jobs to go around and pay nicely!" He was bright eyed– a ginger with a spunky attitude. The Prince shot him a deadly glare.

Your father bristled at the sudden praise, laughing awkwardly. "Why, thank you. That's rather high praise." He bowed again.

"Well, what you did is impressive! Nothing but a daughter and a chance of a new start! No son or wife to speak of!" The short, dark-haired man from before spoke with a laugh.

Your eyes were like saucers, rage brewing in your throat at such a casual and inconsiderate mention to the tragic passing of your mother and baby brother. It made you feel ill. It made you see red.

"Excuse you!" Your voice bit through the cheery nature of the conversation, your father looking down at you in complete shock as you waved a gloved finger at the man. "How uncaring and absolutely disgusting of you to speak of the dead in such a manner. You must be incredibly cruel or stupid– and I would suggest some serious changes to your egregious behavior!"

You were shaking with anger– and decided you should excuse yourself before escalating things further. If you could, you would wring that man's neck.

"Good Day." You dusted yourself off and quickly stepped away. Your father called after you, apologizing profusely for your impolite behavior.

You could hardly care. You could hear your blood rushing in your ears. You needed to find a washroom somewhere to calm your nerves.

Traveling deeper into the reception, you found yourself traversing intricate halls and overhearing many interesting conversations. Over time you felt yourself calming, a deep sigh leaving you as you leaned against a nearby wall.

"Oh, where is the washroom?... I could go for one of those jelly buns right now…"

"... The Northern… Cygnus… Mm, Pirates…"

Your spine went straight hearing the snippets of such a conversation. Pirates? In Cygnus?

You felt immediately intrigued, stepping into the room as if you hadn't been eavesdropping before. The two men looked at you, curious looks on their faces.

"Hello Miss. Did you need anything?"

You nodded eagerly. "Oh yes– uhm…" you looked towards the wall before meeting their eyes once more. "I heard someone say Cygnus. You see– my sister lives there. Could you tell me the news?"

You put on your best worried expression, feeling an acute joy in being so cunning. One of the men smiled.

"Well, Miss– there are pirates in the port as of late. Most recently though, The Black Cat docked in the Northern parts of Cygnus. We were just looking over these wanted posters for the press. I work in that industry– you see." One of the older men sputtered his explanation through the smoke of his pipe. You nodded along, lifting your dress to step towards the table.

The wanted posters had been freshly inked– big dark lettering marking unfamiliar names of an apparently infamous pirate crew you had never heard of.

"Oh my… what would they want in Cygnus? It's such a peaceful place…" You talked along rather absently– your attention still captured by the names… until one caught your eye.

Lev Haiba. You knew you had known that name once– a distant past in your life when you were much poorer but much better off.

You had pledged to yourself that you would never forget that name after leaving Cygnus. The both of you made a promise the night before you left.

But little Lev Haiba? A notorious pirate…? You simply couldn't see that boy doing anything evil. Never in all your days…

A bit of an idea sprung to your mind as the men continued to talk.

Perhaps the crew of The Black Cat could still be found in Cygnus…

> NEXT CHAPTER

< BACK TO NAVIGATION

#⛧GMDN #haikyuu fanfiction #haikyuu #haikyu x reader #haikyuu x reader #kageyama x reader #lev haiba x reader #x reader #afab reader #reader insert

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valkariel · 2 years

Photo

Miss Butler

Head: Edencall Hat of Casting - default Body: Loyal Butler's Jacket - default Hands: Idealized Estoqueur's Gloves - soot black Legs: Boulevardier's Ruffled Pantaloons - soot black Feet: Moonward Boots of Casting - charcoal grey

Alt Hands: Tantalus Cuffs - soot black

Earring: The Emperor's New Earrings Neck: The Emperor's New Necklace Wrists: The Emperor's New Bracelet Right Ring: The Emperor's New Ring Left Ring: The Emperor's New Ring

Main Hand: -- Off Hand: --

Fashion Accessory: -- Minion: -- Location: Faeberry Atelier

Shader: Faeberry Studio

#ffxiv #ffxiv glamour #ffxiv au ra #ffxiv red mage #eorzea collection #au ra #raen #red mage #darks/blacks/greys #uses mogstation items #uses seasonal items #formal glamour #academic glamour #maid cafe glamour #valkariel ilmarë

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snidgetwidgeon · 2 years

Text

300 Follower Korok Puzzle Winner!

Thank you to @star-ocean-peahen, @itcantbe, & @headlesscucco for playing my Korok Puzzle! itcantbe was able to find all the koroks!

There was a tricky little bugger up in the tree but you got it :D

Please enjoy your drabble *eyebrow wiggle*

Zelink Modern AU

Rated E below the cut

Smooth… wet… spinning. Rising and falling. Zelda watched the clay on the wheel while the veiled man threw moving art. Soft music was on in the background, highlighted every so often with a squelch from the clay. It was grey, but he was colorful.

Clad in Gerudo ceremonial attire, draping sleeves, puffy pantaloons; teals and greens, blond hair pulled up in a half ponytail, blue eyes looking into the camera, alluring. He certainly knew how to put on a show.

It was all art and games until he cut the narrow cylinder from the wheel, pulled his dick out and started fucking it.

~~~

Zelda had just ordered her coffee and sat down near the window in a leather chair. It was always a plus when the comfy chair was available. After setting up her work station, she found, unsurprisingly, that she was having trouble focusing on her research paper. Staying up so late watching Justforchu was not conducive to the following workday.

The barista on duty caught her eye over her laptop and her gaze kept flicking up because there was a certain familiarity. But she couldn’t quite place it. Had they gone to school together maybe?

He put his hair up in a half ponytail and she had to stop herself from outright staring. Could he? Her mind raced over what had kept her up last night. Surely not. He was bright and cheerful. He’d also look like a zombie if he’d been up so late… right?

She put the thought out of her mind and smiled absently as he approached with her coffee. His arm crossed in front of her as he set it down and she gasped as she noticed the flecks of dried clay just under his elbow.

“Everything ok?” he asked.

She stared, transitioning into a frozen panic; then shook her head and spluttered, “N- yeah. I- I just forgot something. I mean… I remembered something I forgot.” She stopped talking and looked at her coffee, willing it to somehow take the attention off her.

“Ah, glad you remembered.” He gestured to her drink. “Enjoy.”

He may as well have been purring. She melded the smooth tones to her memory of what he did, the night before. With the clay. Silently, save for some pleasurable elicitations.

#breath of the wild #300 followers #korok puzzle #zelink #drabble #lemon #modern au

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george-weasleys-girl · 3 months

Text

Three More Months

Season of Love Event

18+ only

George Weasley x fem!reader

Summary: George waits for the day when he can ask you out. But in the meantime...

Warnings: smut, male masturbation, brief mention of female masturbation

~•~

George leaned back his office chair, his pants and boxers puddled at his feet as his hand slowly stroking his throbbing cock. "Fuck, Y/N," he moaned. It'd become his daily ritual to spend his afternoon break jerking off to a fantasy of you.

He imagined you sitting in front of him on the window sill, your legs spread wide, fingering yourself. A needy grunt escaped his lips, and he sped up his jerking.

It seemed like a good idea at the time, hiring you on to help with the Christmas rush. It'd give him the chance to get to know you better, and when you quit once the holidays were over, he planned to ask you out. He had little doubt that you'd say yes. The way your eyes sparkled and your face lit up every time he walked in the room convinced him that you liked him as much as he liked you.

Not to mention the flirting. Oh Godric, the flirting. The light touches as they passed by each other, the quick glances from across the room, the way she would always adjust his tie after his afternoon break. "Your tie is always such a mess when you come back," she would giggle.

If she only knew...

George quickened his pace, his toes curling as the blissful sensation intensified.

He'd been a couple days away from asking you out when you asked if you could stay on longer. Just part-time and just until you finished up your apprenticeship in the spring.

He couldn't say no. But, of course, he couldn't ask you out either. Not while you were an employee...

...an amazingly sweet, kind, smart, and merlin help him, sexy employee.

George's free hand moved down to tease his tightening balls. He bit back a groan as a wave of intense pleasure rippled through him. He spared a glance at the clock. Four minutes left. Good. He'd be cumming in less than two, giving him plenty of time for clean up and getting himself back in order.

The image of you earlier today, bending over to pick up an item, flashed through his mind. Your skirt was just a little shorter than usual, and it was enough to give him a brief glimpse of your panties. The thought pushed him right to the edge.

Precum streamed from his dick's bright red tip. He rubbed his thumb and forefinger across it, gathering it up, while his other hand continued to massage his balls. Georges breath quickened, and he was no longer able to control the moans spilling from his lips. Only a few more strokes and his body began to convulse. Throwing his head back, he closed his eyes, his face scrunching up as he groaned out your name, his cock erupted in rolling waves of ecstasy.

The first stream shot high, landing between his feet. The second was just as intense, if not more so, shooting across the room, followed by several smaller spurts. The last couple dribbled down to cover his hand as he milked himself dry.

George slumped in his chair, completely spent, his hand still gripping his softening cock. "Damn, that felt good... " He mummered. After a few more seconds, he opened his eyes, pushing himself upright, and grabbed his wand. There were many advantages to being a wizard, instantaneous clean up after emptying his balls all over the office floor being top among them.

With 30 seconds to spare, he was presentable and ready to get back to work. As he closed the office door behind him, George heard Y/N's sweet laughter echo up the stairs. A warmth suffused his entire being, and an affectionate smile spread across his face. "Three more months, my love," he whispered to himself. "Three more months until I make you mine."

~•~

@milivanili99 @fancy-pantaloons @turvi @zvummyummy @xmjthewitchx @pansexualwitchwhoneedstherapy @georgie-weasley @samberriejams @nighttimemoonlover @jsjcue @wzrd-wheezes @mrsgweasley @hufflepuffie @morally-grey-obsessed @fredweasleyyyyy @anvaaryn @samshifts @asuperconfusedgirl @hmisa11 @superduckmilkshake @mysticsheepsoul @gemofthenight @1Lellykins @junerprsh @wolfkill16 @kaysau2510 @qmylovexoxo @planetkt @costheticbabe

@smallsweetvanillabean @hanne-montana @greenapplegrass @el-de-phi @lizzytrees @spididerman @yoursarahg @marvelgirlstories @theimpossible-girl-whowaited @ceehance @Havenater1920 @jelloangela @charmedfandomgal @loca4moony @whotfskai @netflix-addict

@moonatician @lunacurlclaw @sierraluvzz @min-aaa @now-that-we-dontalk @lillisummers @lovesanimals0000

#george weasley #george weasley x fem!reader #george weasley x reader #george weasley x y/n #george weasley x you #hp fandom #hp universe #the season of love event #season of love event #george weasley smut

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libidomechanica · 7 months

Text

“Fool”

A Kelly lune sequence

Morning on this body decorate the ground, let bee.

With the bounty wrong. And thus singly well-conduct’s less?

Today when I be? Fool! Lights are much depends of hate?

Saw nothing let’s lay, and God stand, whatever I do!

Nor can body, we that all displease. The clubs no more.

If lowliness town! No, no, not I. But the lilies.

Should connected woes. A sheathenish. Bid me too near.

That which man may regard to Aristotle. For all?

Juan consent’—consent. Each other show’d with Ismail’s ours.

He fixed the class is fit to virtue prefer a spark.

Ah wanton music’s charming, which men vain., Cupid’s blood.

In our mothers also have our fame, it is vertue, truth.

Cite is, than his larger soul, like picture, how I love.

For Wit is foiled. Their create Ideas in their shafts.

And if his golden as a voyage or vessel lost.

’Er them gold, and fashion. Come in a grey hairs bid come!

Beams, but now she knew the true? When Julia did not pass.

I will not of Woman face; wit tempt further. The night.

Pardon where Vertue is come a library, and all be.

With muffled this glass. What still these Four which seem’d to bee.

Will be. Now for fear my Garment quite a paragon.

Since God is filled window blew bubbled, the long to light.

Come, Madam—hist! More bright like two people say his arms.

That was near history; but when my wings, to scold, but, ah!

And wonder in an evil sprite, and she queen they be?

Not that besides the ball. An Inner Meaning hello.

But, ah, Desire? Nonsense for ever see Brooklyn.

Now Juliana stung! Bats, blind, lest soil took pity.

Such a one Why will. Wherein with stamina so steals.

Cried. Towne fierce tears, of counsellors’ for malice still the Sage?

I must want to row; in thee, as swan or snow, his soul!

And I don’t make me this child, without younger brother.

But you in men. Albeit all; I could kill his child.

And so steal on peal, the grass. The photos anymore.

And thee afternoon the Sea? But bravest, with edge-tools!

Bid me through the destroyed. No one column; date, Falmouth.

But that I can’t but once. Fear she that Donna Inez.

Did not in looked pines. Smoking dress, often fifty rhymes.

I lost pulse of chromatical, but is fine-pointed.

Father blood, not knowledge. Was it outlasts in good nights.

Look we for words, the glow tells to retort the mart; swords.

Our state of youth: but, finding they feel? A Haire than one?

Dominion. Can everywhere, for a stone to pick up.

But sweeter stresses. These contented on Nelly Gray!

All your confounded fawn came troop, to hold the tulip?

The bee? And see how or what—I never has made up.

When a female. Him all within its grasshoppers warm.

And all the Seraskier. And Lilly, why man would be.

To this same heaven’s Angels known; and the fair. Your purse.

The work of you here? Inez were vanish: wept they grief.

Must I, who would refused it, and rain. Of burning Post?

As e’er begun. Hee will displease their midst of fellow!

He reader!—Because it but on pantaloons or booze.

The Madeira to the human fair! He would enter.

Wretched the woods were remains? As change she stand the branch.

Ashes to weary of love, give me now! With the true?

Indeed! Here, now, and on the drying through destroying.

Father cases, is the great word about his first-fruits.

The frock and rose. He too great with a heavy measure!

Charlotte, having now. What kind of his own nature light.

A still cries, Forsooth, let bee. And when they sought up true.

For half an honest speech. Or calm around, in shining.

And if the flowers. I’ll calls friend scrawled on the stomachs.

While Dame sans merci hath a far mountain posts themselves?

Such I grieve thee! Thou shalt not one of the wild bird’s wing.

Of polish fashion. Two signs o’er a flower and flow.

And grape could kill? As in the gaunt famine, and this whole.

Poor grapes is philosophic in our beauty, you know.

At my legs. The latest things are pretty child will spin.

Who was a fine,—even survive the motion. What sigh.

Love without desires. The quiet limits, but them.

#poetry #automatically generated text #Patrick Mooney #Markov chains #Markov chain length: 6 #187 texts #Kelly lune sequence

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