#a sailor`s delight

[seamusicpoetry]

William Holbrook Beard (American , 1825-1900), "A Sailor's Delight", 1891

[starseungs]

a phoenix's ashes. ksm.

kim seungmin x gn!reader — from a love that burned bright to a love that fell like ashes. only a sincere wish from the heart would make a love twice as better rise from its remains.

genre/s — exes to lovers, second chance, angst with a happy ending, pianist!seungmin, violinist!reader • 1.5k words

warning/s — not much other than pain, lack of communication as a theme

note — another seungmin fic because i need to get over this man 🧍‍♀️ its messing with my brain chemistry... | song inspos are « i don't want to watch the world end with someone else - clinton kane » and « huling sandali - december avenue »

2024 ⓒ starseungs on tumblr. do not steal, repost, or edit.

In the windows of your sight, the view tints green.

They were a startling contrast to the bright white lights illuminating the stage ahead. It framed the picture of the scene well, you suppose. With the two performers seemingly glowing in the tints of yellow provided by the Brazilian maple flooring. You couldn’t help but be mesmerized by one of the two, who was donning a beautifully polished violin in her hands. The strings sang in delight as the woman delivered the intricately thought-out vibrations to all those who could hear. 

And those who did, listened. Down to every last sound.

To word it in the simplest way you could muster, it would have to be perfect. The type of playing every person who has learned the violin even once has dreamed of achieving. A small but content smile makes itself known on your face as desires and memories paint themselves in splashes. You were once like that; you hummed to no one in particular. Acknowledgement lost in the silence of muted praises. The green you were presented with made much more sense in the moment of awareness.

Envy. It was an emotion you've come to know, admittedly very well. Drips of resentment seeped through the river of flowing emotions that were overwhelming you. Despicable as it was, you let it be. After all, it was what kept you grounded. Only a fool would discard an anchor when heading into the chaotic sea. The precaution may not always apply—especially not in the depths of the darkest waters—but the thought is what keeps a lost sailor hopeful with the dreams of land.

A certain ring of a key brought you back to the moment at hand. In what seems like a flash, your eyes lost sight of the violinist you were dedicating your absolute attention to. Instead, your gaze shifted to her side, where a male was sitting in front of a sleek black grand piano. The furrowing of your eyebrows proved to be an unstoppable action as your mind connected the face to a name. One that you had refused to utter from the moment his figure stepped on stage. A dark, almost black, blue tie hung securely around his neck. It was in a shade that made you shudder with an awful interpretation.

Longing. You deciphered the tingle of desperation. Every piano key he pressed seemed to grow louder in your ears. It almost scared you to think that the pianist would overpower the strings of the violin you adored so much. A clawing feeling sank itself deeper into your skin, wishing to avoid memories of the time when the two sounds co-existed as a symphony. But it was eventually deemed unfruitful as the score ran to its end.

If only—oh, if only you could retrace your steps back to that time. Back when the music floated carelessly through the air. Without fear or judgement of those who were out of the equation. Back to when you loved with a passion. The days that let your heart skip in a melody resembling the piece being played. You let out a silent chuckle.

Maybe in another life. For now, the present will have to do. A soft smile graces your lips once again as you watch the pianist stand, plastering a content-looking smile at his splendid performance. 

You could only clap in respect.

Witnessing the last stage of the day brought an odd feeling. With the hall lights appearing to guide the audience away, the darkness being chased away was akin to multiple weights being lifted off your shoulder. That itself would have been the best way to end your afternoon. 

If only that didn’t mean having to walk under the dimming evening sky.

“You came,” a voice called out. The two words were short and concise. Straight to the point. A statement rather than a question. The frigid tone of someone who, in your memories, was always so warm made you exhale too shakily for your liking. It was humorous, as it was a great complement to the vibrant orange sunset amidst the chilly air of the incoming night.

The pavement crackled under your feet. “And you made it,” you stated back. His stare shot straight into yours from the minute you turned around. “Congratulations, Seungmin. You did well out there.”

“Even if it’s not the same?”

“What was there to be mourned about? The dynamics sounded heavenly in my ears,” you admitted. The moment of hesitation before your last sentence lingered in the air. You watched a lone leaf swing downward in the space between the two of you.

His next words were spoken through gritted teeth. “It could have been better.”

“Seungmin, you should know by now that I’m never going to be the mind reader you expect me to be.” You sighed in defeat. “I could know you, but I could never be you. So, tell me what you actually want to say.”

“That’s exactly what it is,” he spits out. “You knew me too well that I let myself take advantage of the security you gave me. But that didn’t mean you had to break what you’ve built for yourself just because of me! How much more selfless do you want to be, to the point that you become a selfish coward!”

A car rushed by the barren sidewalk the both of you stood on. The sun had long since been gone, replaced by the moon to be the sole spectator in the exchange between two old flames. Lines of streetlights resembled the lights on the stage you had abandoned, imitating previous performances you once shared with Seungmin. You clenched your fists at the flashes of memory.

“You can’t just hold on to the past like that, Seungmin—”

“Not if it was the present and future that I wanted!” He cries out. “You would never understand what I had to go through when you stepped off that stage for good. The endless nights that I thought to myself, how you could just make that decision like it was nothing. But in the end, it was just me refusing to acknowledge that you had given up. You gave up on me. On us.”

The spear that had lodged in your heart long ago started moving again. You had so much to tell him—that you couldn’t. Not when your conversations with the constellations had you blaming yourself the same way he did to his own. It was never about whatever thought Seungmin made into a conclusion on his own. 

It was the complaint-turned-advice that you failed to apply to yourself.

“Stand on stage again, Y/N.” You flinched at the emotional cracks in Seungmin’s voice. “Stand beside me again.”

In that moment, you proved him right once again. Exactly how long are you going to act selfless to shield your selfish cowardice? You claimed that you wanted to be the muse for Seungmin’s harmony. Yet the moment your skills were questioned, you let go of everything without even a second glance. Now, did you really have the right to dictate whether you were enough for Seungmin or not?

“The violin is no longer for me,” was what came out as a whisper. You watched as Seungmin’s eyes glistened to produce clear beads resembling diamonds. Fear that he might have caught on to the undertone of weariness you were trying to hide after a year of endless convincing. “I’ve left it behind me. It’s been a year.”

A storeowner nearby shuts the front doors of his shop.

“Even the person I fell in love with?” Seungmin asks. “The person you were at the beginning of what we used to call us? The person who shone brighter than the high-grade theater lights, no matter who else was beside them? The same person who could never compare to the stars in the night sky with how much they burned with passion? If so, then tell me right here and right now. That the one I loved has long been left behind by the year as well.”

Your hands twitch to grip an imaginary violin and bow.

“Seungmin.” 

“Please,” he pleads desperately. “Break what’s left of the man who loved that version of you. I refuse to let the fragments of what you were continue to be the reason I keep myself understanding of the pain you bring to me. This is my last wish to you, Y/N. Please let my heart hate you as well.”

Something wet fell in droplets right by your shoes.

“I can’t.”

There were streams flowing down your face.

“I haven’t left that version of me behind.”

A bubbling wail makes itself present in your throat.

“I never forgot how much I loved the violin.”

Slow footsteps echoed through the area.

“And especially not how I continued to love you even throughout that one year.”

Warmth. Like the yellow tint emitted from the Brazilian maple flooring when the overhead lights hit it during a performance. Like the heat of the moment when you reach the climax of a piece. You were back in Seungmin’s arms. In the stage where only you and him existed.

Just where you needed to be.

SERIES TAGLIST ━ STATUS: OPEN — ASK OR COMMENT 🫶

@fairyki @hysgf @euncsace @comet-falls @starlostseungmin @ameliesaysshoo @hyunverse @wnbnny @xocandyy @minluvly @moon0fthenight @estellaluna @hanjsquokka

[milliesfishes]

𝓔𝓷𝓬𝓱𝓪𝓷𝓽𝓮𝓭𓇼 ⋆.˚ 𓆉 𓆝 𓆡⋆.˚ 𓇼

[fem reader] contains: nudity, talk of male anatomy pairing: billy the kid x fem reader summary: pirate billy x mermaid reader author’s note: based on my love @francixoxoxo 's pirate billy au- leaving the tag below. (thank you lovey for letting me write for this!) I have a mermaid special interest and it's been a delight. Pinterest Board Spotify Playlist

The sea was a home in and of itself, but it was lonely all the same.

Sitting on the rocks and looking out at the moonlight reflected on the water, Billy pondered this thought, but came to no conclusion from it. The crew of the ship was docked here for the night, on a regular supply run. It was also a chance for the men to stretch their legs, flirt with local women, blow off steam; gear up for the next bit on the ship.

It had been a long night of drinking and roughhousing, and truly, Billy was exhausted by it all. The usual distractions hadn’t sufficed, and now he couldn’t sleep, plagued by the thoughts he’d previously stuffed into the recesses of his mind.

Piracy was far from his first choice in lifestyle, but he’d had little choice in the matter. Growing up by the sea meant he’d taken to the work easily, and he got along with the crew well enough, but his inner voice irked him. It wasn’t honest work, he knew. And sometimes when he was tying a knot or leaning over the railing, he saw his life stretched out before him if he continued on this path. An endless path of mopping, sailing, robbing. He hated how it played out before his eyes. 

Shaking his head slightly, Billy began to strip his clothes off, deciding maybe a night swim would clear his head and get it back to normal. It was never good when he got too deep into thought- it only made things worse for a future version of himself. 

Summertime made the water warmer than it would have been otherwise, and he left all his clothes on the rock, sliding down into the water. The slight chill sent his thoughts scattering back into the dark from whence they came, and he breathed a sigh of relief. Finally, some peace. A little while in the ocean and they ought to stay where he wanted them for a good while, maybe even until the next time the crew came to port.

Since it was dark, he floated on his back, unashamed of his nude state. He was definitely far enough away from the village that nobody would be able to see him without coming real close. Relishing in the quiet of it, he breathed the salt air and closed his eyes briefly.

While some found the sea terrifying due to the unknown of it all, Billy was comforted by the mystery. His mother had told him young that the water was like a woman; an untamable enigma. One could only fully appreciate it if they leaned into the secrecy. Regarding both women and the sea, the message had served him well.

There was a sudden splash behind him, and he shifted so he was treading water. It was probably just a fish, but he’d learned quickly in his days as a sailor to keep his guard up at the first hint of danger.

Turning in a full circle, Billy saw nothing. Just the moonlit water. The waves lapped gently at his chest as he surveyed his surroundings. A human wouldn’t have been able to hide this easily. An animal would have swum far from him by now.

He moved a little closer to the rocks just in case, keeping an eye on the horizon. Putting one hand on the rough surface of the boulder that held his clothes, he peered at the water below. Nothing, as expected. It was stupid to think he’d be able to see even a foot under.

Another splash. Billy jolted, whipping his head around. He was getting suspicious. “Anyone near?” he called, squinting as if that would make the visage of darkness clearer.

There was the sound of a body in water. A human body. Reaching up for his pistol on the rock, he half-shouted, “I know you’re there! I can hear ya.” Billy stretched his arm. The gun was just out of reach. “Come about!”

Just as he was convinced he’d made the whole thing up, there was a movement in the shadow of the rock a little ways from him, maybe ten feet. Something was hiding.

Intrigued, he stopped trying to grab his pistol. A feeling told him his unknown companion wasn’t a threat. Billy cocked his head, focusing on the spot. “I ain’t gonna hurtcha.”

Slowly, the creature revealed itself from the shadows. The pale light of the moon revealed more than he thought it would. He saw it wasn’t a creature at all. It was a woman. And a stunning one at that.

You were unlike anything he’d ever seen.

Beauty so rare it felt otherworldly. Long, wet hair sticking to your breasts, and he could tell they were bare under that. Your shoulders were uncovered, except by spiderwebs of hair.

He knew he was staring, but he couldn’t help it. There was a magnetic quality to you that he couldn’t shy away from, that he wouldn’t if he had a choice. You blinked at him owlishly, innocently. “Are you a human?”

Oh, your voice. Lilting and light and only comparable to music. He regained his bearings, realizing the odd question. “‘Course. Were ya expectin’ the kraken?”

You tilted your head, gliding closer to him. He felt his heart palpitate as he got a better view. Now he could see the water clinging to your skin and eyelashes, your goosebumps from the night air. It felt like he was being studied, but somehow he didn’t mind. With anyone else it would have been bothersome. With you…he was happy to have caught your attention.

Reaching out, you took one of his hands in your smooth ones and examined it, turning it over once. You traced a finger over the veins, the bones. It was as if you’d never seen one before. Your touch set him on fire.

He realized the oddity of the situation. “What…what’re ya doin’?”

“It’s just the same as mine,” you held out one of your hands for comparison, flexing the fingers.

“I’d imagine it is.” His mind was half and half. One part grounded, the other transfixed by you, hanging onto your every move. 

Shifting closer to him, your eyes wandered over his chest, his face, his hair, as if you were looking for something. Billy swallowed. “Is…is everything okay?”

“You’re just like the men we’ve got,” you said distractedly, not answering his question. 

“How different are the fellas where you come from?” Billy asked, a thousand unasked questions on his tongue. 

“Not much, apparently,” you said as your eyes roved over him. “Except-” your gaze fell below the water, and he got the distinct impression that you were looking between his legs. Suddenly remembering he was nude, Billy reached a hand down to cover himself, cheeks flushing even though it was dark. 

“I…uh…” he stuttered, then remembered the water was pitch black. You wouldn’t be able to see him. He removed his hand, shifting a little closer to you now. “What’re ya doin’ out here so late?”

“I like night swimming,” you explained, not providing a reason for your state of undress. Billy wasn’t in any place to judge, since he was in the same way, but it was just so rare for women to be so unashamedly naked like this. Not the women he’d met anyways; you were clearly something different. Something special. 

Still peering down into the water, you were squinting a bit. Again, he felt like you were looking at a bit of him he didn’t normally show just anyone. “It’s dark…maybe if I got a closer look-” You made like you were going to dive down, and Billy quickly caught you by the shoulders.

“Ah…let’s not get so close, dontcha think?” he smiled boyishly, slightly distracted by how silky your hair was even though it was wet. 

You seemed to understand. “Maybe another time.” As he was holding your shoulders, Billy sunk a little deeper, and you perked up. “Here, let me help you.” Gently, you pushed him against the rock, just holding him there. He was surprised by your strength. Not that women couldn’t be that way, but he was a fully grown man. Yet another strange thing to categorize. But the more unconventional you were, the more of a desire he felt to know you.

“Do ya…do ya come here often?” he asked, trying to learn something about the strange woman by the rocks. 

“Not nearly as much as I’d like,” you smiled, and his heart stuttered. “My father doesn’t like it when I stray too far.”

“Especially when you’re meetin’ strange men after dark I’ll bet,” Billy grinned, and you laughed, pretty and clear.

“I don’t imagine he’d like that very much, no,” you sighed. “Especially since you’re…you know…” you nodded at his body.

He nodded back, his grin still evident. “Ah, yeah. Ain’t imaginin’ he’d be too pleased if he knew I wasn’t wearin’ anythin’ either.”

You frowned confusedly. “It’d probably be more about you being human.”

Now he was lost. “Now…why’d that be an issue? You’re…”

There was a beat of silence. You drew back a little, fidgeting with your fingers. Lips rounding in an oh shape, you swam back further, shyly. Leaning back a little and biting your lip nervously, you lifted your tail out of the water. A long, shimmery fish tail.

Billy’s eyes widened in surprise. And suddenly your fascination with his anatomy made sense. He moved closer curiously, but you drew back, looking slightly frightened.

Recognizing it, he stayed where he was, instead outstretching a hand. “I’m not gonna hurt ya. I was just…surprised is all.” Some of the men on the crew had spoken of dangerous women with tails who sang sailors to their deaths and made them mad with lust, and he hadn’t known whether to believe them. But here you were in front of him…harmless, shy and inquisitive.

Reemphasizing his hand, he gave you a smile. “I just ain’t never seen any merfolk before, not in person. But I ain’t gonna do nothin’ bad.”

Looking from his face to his hand, you cautiously moved closer. Billy nodded encouragingly, trying to coax you over. An idea struck him. “I’ll letcha look at my…” he looked down between his legs. “...sometime.”

Your eyes lit up at that. Cautiously, you reached your hand over to his, your soft meeting his rough. He brought you closer, so your stomachs were a breath’s width from touching. 

Now that he had you here he was even more enchanted. He knew why he’d been so drawn to you; no doubt it was a part of your mermish characteristics. But there was something else here, something sparkling. Your eyes were like the sea, tumultuous and secretive, and he liked that.

Lean into it.

Billy dipped his head and caught your lips in a brief kiss. You tasted like salt, which only made him thirsty for more. When he pulled back, he saw your eyes were wide like the full moon behind him. “What was that?”

He smiled. “A kiss.” Reaching up, he thumbed the side of your cheek, tucking some of your hair behind your ear.

You searched his eyes. “We don’t do that where I come from.”

“Ah,” he watched your expression. “Did you like it?”

Adorably, your brow furrowed slightly in thought. Then you slowly nodded, lips parting slightly as you looked up at him. “Yes.”

Billy hummed, his fingers finding the spot under your chin. “Do ya…wanna do it again?”

A slow smile came to your face, and you nodded again, tilting your head up and waiting, looking expectantly at him. He chuckled slightly, the hand that had been holding yours sliding around your waist and pulling you into him. Now he could feel the line where your skin ended and your tail began. Soft and sleek, all of you was.

“Close your eyes,” he said warmly, and you obeyed, your chin still lifted. Smiling at the sight of you, waiting to be kissed, he committed the image to memory. Your eyelashes were touching your skin, causing a pearl of water to fall from one of them, looking like a tear. Skin glowing from the light of the moon, hair wet and curling over your torso, you were a vision.

Then he leaned down and moved his lips against yours again, feeling like every star in the sky had decided to smile upon him that night.

Maybe he’d imagined he could be captivated by a mermaid, but he never dreamed he’d be kissing one.

Billy felt your hands slide up his chest, seemingly testing the waters. He smiled against your lips, nuzzling his nose on your cheek. His hand lifted to slide into your hair, holding the back of your head and pushing your mouth onto his.

You seemed unsure what to do with your hands as they were settled on his shoulders. Billy sensed it and took his other hand off your waist, fingers grasping your hand and dragging it into his hair. It seemed that instinct took over, and your fingers combed through his curls, eliciting a quiet groan from him. 

Pressing your chest into his, you folded your arms around his neck, your hand remaining in his hair. The action lifted your body further up, and he lowered his hand to where your bottom would be if you had legs, making you shiver against him.

Pulling back slightly, he ended the kiss with a few gentle pecks, slowly easing you out of it.

Your smile when he opened his eyes was radiant. Billy traced his hand up your bare back, stringing through your salt strewn locks.

“Why do humans do that?” you asked in a hazy way, smiling sweetly up at him. 

He returned it, feeling happy in a carefree, foolish way. “To…show other people ya…ya like ‘em. Cause it feels nice.” He stroked the apple of your cheek. “Did it feel nice for ya?” That part was asked in a whisper.

Your eyes were soft, slightly stormy in the best way. “I liked it.”

Billy smiled and leaned in for another kiss, but you lifted your head suddenly, as if you’d heard something. He frowned. “Are you-?”

“I have to go,” you said hurriedly, fixing your eyes back on his. Carefully, you pressed your lips to his for a slow kiss goodbye, and he felt like he was floating.

Before he knew it, you had slipped out of his arms and the last thing he saw was the glimmer of your tail on the horizon. 

Billy didn’t move for a moment, dazed by you. He took in a breath, laughing slightly in disbelief.

A mermaid. He’d kissed a mermaid. And it had been like fireworks.

Next part

[the-whispers-of-death]

so, you know @bluegiragi s cod monster!au?

so, imagine a young (in terms of dragon years) dragon!reader joins the tf, never having seen another dragon in the military, sees price and is either like:

“HELLO SAILOR” or “you’re my idol now.”

either way it’s just super fluffy excited to see another of his kind. and price (who’s been around much longer), is trying to keep up with why/how this little (in his eyes) dragon is so excited by some old gruff dragon.

if not no worries!

-🐏

Oh this is juicy and so fluffy, I love it!! I wrote this with a slight romantic inclination, so sorry if that wasn't what you wanted. It's still fluffy, I swear.

You were skilled enough to become a member of the elite Task Force 141 and to say you were excited about that was an understatement. You've lived for a long time, but you were still young compared to most dragons. However, you worked your butt off to get to where you've been, so you took credit where credit was due.

And the best part of being in the 141 was that you weren't the only dragon hybrid there. Captain John Price was also a dragon hybrid, a much older one at that, and seeing him for the first time made you even more excited than you already were.

"Hello, Captain Price," you said, your wings flapping behind you in excitement. You held out your hand for him to shake, practically vibrating. "I'm {Name}, the newest member of the 141. I'm so honored to be here and to meet you."

Price's weary eyes crinkled as he smiled, his gravelly voice speaking. "Ah, another dragon hybrid, how exciting. It's good to meet you, {Name}." He shook your hand, chuckling at how strong your grip was.

He was looking forward to seeing how you measured up against the rest of the 141, that was for sure.

*************

A few days had passed and you were settling in nicely, still a lively dragon despite all you've seen with the 141 already. You stuck close to Price, the two of you swapping stories of everything you two have seen over the decades you've been alive.

Price was figuring out quickly that he liked you, liked how the years hadn't made you harden. He liked how loud and bubbly your laugh was, how bright your smile was. It reminded him of his younger days, reminded him of what it was like to love being alive.

And so with every day that passed by and every stolen moment you two had together, he started to enjoy life little by little. He was laughing and smiling more, his weary eyes seeming brighter than ever. He'd join you outside in the nights, watching you whoop in delight as you flew in the air.

You even flew with him in your arms one night, pouting about how a dragon hybrid shouldn't be chained to the ground even if they have only one wing. Being in your arms and up in the air felt freeing for him. He could feel the wind blowing through his hair, feel the mist of the clouds when you flew the both of you through one.

It was euphoric and it was calming all at the same time. A nostalgic experience he hadn't even thought he had missed until he was back up in the air.

You might be young, but you were teaching him how to live again. And he was grateful for it. For you.

Separator made by @une-femme-de-lettres

Okay, that ended a little abruptly, I'll admit. But I didn't know how to end it and I was rambling there in the end. Still, I hope it was fluffy enough for you and that you enjoyed it!

Thank you for the request!

Reblogs are welcomed & appreciated! Asks are open, feel free to pop in and talk or request something! (SFW requests only, please and thank you)

[feychannel]

So you want to play an indie otome or dating sim but don't know where to start...

Like the title says, I wanted to make a rec list for those who are more interested in indie otomes but don’t necessarily know where to start! So for those who saw the latest Nintendo Direct or maybe those who’ve just always wanted to try something new, this list is for y’all. I’ve immensely enjoyed every single title (and hope y’all do too). Without further ado... here's the short list!

Changeling by @steamberrystudio (and their sci-fi spiritual successor, Gilded Shadows): Liked "Buffy," but thought it needed more Faes? Changeling is exactly the type of contemporary otome you want and needed in your life yesterday. With several wonderful young men to romance, and an intriguing plotline that references fae mythology, you'll be set!

The Rose of Segunda: Liked Bridgerton? Thought it needed an even longer gala than canon? Then RoS (and its amazing sequel, "Thorns of War") by @blackcross-taylor is the game to play! I've been impressed with how this studio weaves political intrigue into the very plot, and how it commits to the stories it creates.

Band Camp Boyfriend: Somehow, this game is both a 00's sitcom and a thriller all in one (with all the drama of a gripping telenovela in some routes). If you missed summer camp, marching band, and/or just want to know what that's like, check out this delightful title by @lovebirdgames

3 Seasons: We love a woman with melanin!! But in all seriousness, the concept of a young woman applying for a job, only to find out she's the next Spring Spirit is delightful. Note: this is a free title (but the developer @hamiltonhour accepts payment on their itch).

Magical Warrior Diamond Heart: Precure meets Sailor Moon meets the sweetest otome!! In this house we love Valerie and her zany crew. @magicalwarriordiamondheart has truly outdone themselves with each update; the common route is free, but the developer has a Patreon you can support!

Herotome: I would be amiss if I didn't mention my current favorite superhero-themed otome, where your lovely protagonist will face pivotal choices in their quest to become a hero! While only the demo is out so far (just so y'all aren't expecting the full product), developer @herotome is a delight to follow with all their updates!!

Honorable mentions: Twisted Carnival, Titan Arum (warning: both titles contain more horror than the average otome), and Arcardia Fallen

[honestsycrets]

before anyone else II: the reverent | admiral!miguel o'hara x princess!reader

❛ pairing | admiral!miguel o'hara x princess!reader

❛ type | double-shot, explicit

❛ summary | politics and murder? easy. but if he thought he could stomach forcing the princess he loves into marriage... he was wrong. or reader forces admiral miguel o'hara into marriage.

❛ tags | forced marriage, royal!au, admiral!miguel, princess!reader, mention of murder, betrayal, treason, angst, f!reader, persuasion inspired, Spanish is not translated, female led breeding session, hand jobs, spicy bath time, ignoring miguel.

❛ sy's notes | the update no one asked for. the first chapter felt very incomplete without this one, so i just wanted to complete this series with a little bit of angst and smut.

“And what is that? Up there, Lyla.” 

Lyla is closer to you than he remembers. In his make-believe voyage to Stone’s home, he would need a new ship. Today Lyla invited you to sail imperial seas, cutting through the waters with a new ship, the Reverent. He hadn’t shown you much of anything in his rush to leave the capital eight years ago. He makes that right with Gwen at your side, donned in the clothing of the guard. You opted for a soft blue gown, a navy blue rebozo thrown over your shoulders. The fat bow that drew in your stomach tumbled down against the dress’s long train.

“That’s the Crow’s Nest.”

His men and women were ogling. It wasn’t exactly normal to have a soft woman on board—much less their princess. You held the top of your hat, glancing up at the beam. Sun bounced in your eye, and you laughed delightfully, clapping your hands together. “A crow’s nest? Why do they call it such a thing?” 

“The Vikings would release crows from the crow’s nest if they could not see,” Gwen answered, he did not know she cared so much about ships. You looked at her in delight as she explained. “Chart the path they took toward land.” 

“¡Qué chévere! Lady Gwen, you are quite knowledgeable.” 

“All sailor legend,” Miguel responded, the string of jealousy coursing through his bones, before he jerked his head toward those gathered along the main deck. He never did like crowds. “Back to shore! Off to your work, then!” 

“Thank you for showing me proper sailing,” they dispersed to the sound of your many thanks, a slight bow in your waist. If it were your father, he would never do such a thing. Gwen stepped to the side, holding her hands behind her back. “You have a wonderful crew.”

"You heard the admiral, off you go!" Lyla rushed off to the stern to take the ship's wheel.

“And Lyla?” she stopped, turning her big brown eyes at him. She probably knew what was coming as you slipped by Miguel, sliding your hand around his inner elbow. “No rum.” 

It was one time, she threw a curse. 

“Have I missed something?” you asked, setting your head against his thin poet’s shirt. He smelled of the salty sea and the thin film of his own sweat. The warmth of the sun must have drained you already, donned in tumbling full-body fabrics.

“I’ve something for you.” 

“Have you?” you asked, turning around to face him. Miguel reached around his neck, loosening the cord. His gift was not a necklace. If it were, he’d be far outmatched with jewels like sapphires, diamonds, and topaz nestled between your breasts. He pulled a ring from the cord, slipping onto his knees. You recognized the ring that he presented to you immediately. A modest ring of pearl set with tiny bits of a jewel that wasn’t quite diamond on either side.

“Oh, Miggy. You kept it?” you slipped your hand down to his waiting fingers. Miguel slid his ring onto your finger.

“It isn’t much. A guards pay, yes?” He began, realizing he was stumbling over his words. “But I… couldn’t help but think you would prefer it to something new.” 

You pulled your hand free, kneeling to catch his lips in a small, patient kiss. He was grateful for anything he could get-- repressed as he was. Gwen bit back a smile, a soft murmur of princess, to urge you not to draw out such attention in front of a band of sea-numb sailors. You slid back onto two feet, your hands coming together one over the other. 

“I love it. I always have, Miguel.” 

“Yes, well--” he cleared his throat. He pushed past Gwen toward the steer of the boat, barking some orders in intelligible sailor slang. “I should check on Lyla. Lest she beaches us on some obvious outcropping.” 

Gwen and you both knew it was to loosen himself of the embarrassment of a kiss well deserved. You glanced down at the engagement ring glittering on your finger, a smile working over your cheeks.

“Perhaps I should not have asked Lyla for her help,” you leaned over to whisper in Gwen’s ear. “My Miggy will never let her live it down.” 

“Yes,” Gwen agreed. “Perhaps not.” 

Hours ago, Miguel was on the salty sea. Tonight, Miguel held a bloody seax, wiping away kingly blood from its blade with a handkerchief that he’d promptly dispose of. For all his talk, the king took death well. Admirable, even! Barely a coward’s cry, a simple do it mijo, as Miguel drove his blade across his neck. Perhaps he expected his death, perhaps he missed his sons. Miguel couldn't help but think he knew what would happen by asking Miguel to deliver you to Stone like a hunk of precious cargo.

“I would say that went quite well. No fuss from the council members. No fuss from the king,” Lyla relaxed at the king’s desk, her breeches smattered in blood. Miguel lifted his eyebrows at her, a bit of sweat dripping down his neck. “How about your fiancé? Think she’ll make a fuss? You did slit--”

“¡Callate! Go with the men and take the body to the undertaker.” 

“You’re no fun,” Lyla threw her boots off the desk, guards flanking her side, heading toward the king’s chambers. Miguel replaced his seax in the sheathe, cupping his face in one of his large hands. The door creaked wide open. Jess, whose frame was also streaked in blood, strode in. Miguel threw her a handkerchief.

“Council members are done and dusted.”

He mulled over what was undoubtedly coming: talk of the next steps. Miguel braced himself for her prodding.

“It has been a long time, years maybe since the people favored the king. I dare say not ever."

"What of the imperialists?"

"My guards are posted to suppress those still loyal to the king." 

“I can't imagine they were happy under his rule.” Miguel moved toward the king’s rum cabinet, grabbing a bottle of glass. He sniffs the pretentious liquid, striding around the front and pouring Jess a cup first, then himself. “He did nothing for them but levy heavy taxes. She is the one who handled public relations. They’ll welcome a new king.” 

“Well, it is better to have a warrior king over a puppet king. Even the corrupt will be happy not to fall to Stone.”

He hummed in agreement. 

“About your rule."

Oh, here she goes.

"You’ll marry her before the end of the rose festival. It is the perfect time for romance.” Jess drank her rum, clinking their ringed fingers together in a toast. “Everyone knows of her standing engagement to Stone. We can frame the wedding as an act of love and her father as an obstacle to it. The women will love it.”

“If she’ll have me.”

“Miguel. We agreed. She has no choice.”

The sound of it grated something low in his belly. His fiancé with no choice but to marry the man who murdered her father. Murder was in no way his preferred choice... It was unavoidable. He had no other choice.

“I know.” 

Miguel threw back the rum. He cast a glance to the window, the sun rising over the horizon. She watches him push off the side of the desk, his claws scratching lines of blood behind his neck. He spoke to himself as much as he spoke to Jess with his next words.

“My woman is gentle. I do not know how to tell her-- that I’ve waited a decade to marry her only to force her to."  

Jess had no answers. The king is dead, sang some distant lament, a panic echoing through the halls. He wondered which you would agree to attend first: the funeral or the wedding.

Your mother was assassinated when you were just a girl. Your brothers met their deaths while at war with Stone. That was the nature of war and being a royal. For much of your life, you were accustomed to the pain of loss. Creating connections with your subjects was what you always aspired to develop. You could talk to people in the crown city you knew would be there year after year. Like the willowy brunet who sold you rose oil even after Miguel left. That was why the rose festival was so important to you. 

It was tainted that early morning with the shrill scream of the king is dead-- bouncing off the halls, sending your heart strumming in your chest as you lurched up in your silky sheets, throwing your feet over the bed onto the cold marble floor.

“My father is dead?” you asked one of the two sentinel guards who stood wordless at your door. Gwen was parked in one of your great lounge chairs, rushing to stand upon the sound of your sleep-laden voice. You picked the bottom of your sleeping gown, rushing down from your place on the bed to the double doors. Gwen stopped you short of them. 

“By order of the Chief of the Imperial Guard, I’m afraid you can’t go out, princess,” she spoke smoothly. She cleared her throat. “It is not safe.”  “Safe?” you repeated. “The last man I could call family is dead and you long to speak to me about safety?” 

She steeled her face. Guilt trickled in, inking in her stormy eyes. She strode in front of the double doors, her hand over the pommel of her sword. You couldn’t believe your luck-- not only to be alive, drawing breath, but to at the same time be sequestered in your quarters like a small bird in a gilded cage. 

“Yes, princess. It is for your own good.”

The doors swung open. In place of your father, with his jovial hops, your fiancé. Miguel took measured steps, swinging the door shut behind him. The doors boomed as they came to a close. Like the other sentinel, Gwen took her place in protecting the only feasible exit. Your chambers were high in a tower, looking before the beautiful coast and its silvery waves. You often looked out the window and thought of him.

“I take it you have heard.” 

Something in his countenance set off an air of distrust. His chin was level as if it was cut out of marble, and effortlessly the words spilled from his lips. There had never been a day in your life that you did not trust Miguel O’Hara. That though he was curt, sharp, and decisive, he always bore your best interest in mind. That was something you reconsidered now.

He stood almost too pieced together. Miguel stood in a clean militant uniform, the finest set of regimental you ever did see him in. Any other time you may have drooled over the sight. Over the way he combed his hair back, tickling his broad throat. Or how tightly the shirt fit when he moved forth, then swayed back on his heel. His thumb hooked on the clasp of an iron belt.

“What have I heard, Miguel?” 

“Of the military coup.” 

His words carried no recognizable trace of remorse. They only communicated the facts of your situation.

“You…” you faded off. It couldn’t have been. ”It was you?” 

“I had no other choice.”

Though he said the words, he knew you would find them inadequate. Wholly untrue, even. Your mind buzzed in disbelief, pacing backward to your bed. You glanced at the clothes your maid set out for the day, settled over bundles of fluffy pillows. As the sun raised over the glittering ocean, one that you visited often in his memory, you felt stilted. “I asked you not to--” 

“Talk ill of the dead, yes, I know. I will not.” 

“You missed my point entirely. I asked that you would not blame them for the past. To not dwell on it. You've done just that!” 

It was perhaps an impossible ask to ask a man like Miguel, cocky as he were, to bury the past when your father made such requests of him. You could handle your father’s death by any other means. By an assassination by Jess or the many others who sought his head. With your heart something akin to numb, you dropped onto your bed, scratching at the ribbons laced in your hair from the night before. You pulled them free. Miguel made his way close, bending onto one knee between your own, sliding his gloved hand up your exposed skin. 

“Perdóname,” he spoke candidly. You gazed at him with watery, bright eyes. If anything on this earth could fill him with remorse, it would have been that. He pressed a kiss to your knee. “It had to be done.” 

“You say that but I wonder if you truly understand what those words mean,” you bit out. He appeared contrite, lowering his head lower, if at all possible. “What would you have me do next, hm? I have no more brothers to rule the crown. I care nothing for politics, only the health of my society, and what of Stone? Do you not think he will feel disrespected?” 

“I did it for you.” Miguel simpered. 

“For me? None of this is for me,” you repeated after him, knocking his hands from your knee. You replaced the skirt over the spot he kissed, finding the feeling of his slightly chapped lips blooming blisters of hot anger through your body. “No, you did it for yourself, Miguel. You are so selfish. My father gave you an ounce of power and you repaid him by taking his life.” 

“I am selfish? He gave me nothing but years of pain.” Miguel’s facade cracked, his face going insipid. “I took these positions to please him. For you.” 

“And how is it that these choices are now my fault?” you interrupted Miguel, looking up at his hard features. “Now where do I figure into this-- bloodlust of yours? What do you want of me?” 

“I want you to marry me. You will marry me. You have no other choice.” 

You weren’t going to let him skate by this time. You wouldn’t allow him to be this wonderful, handsome, caring man you fell in love with at first sight as a girl. The certainty with which he said those words was enough. You pushed past him, Miguel snatching your slight wrist in his thick grasp, holding you there. He couldn’t let it be. Not so easily. 

“Get out,” you whirled your wrist around in his grip to break it. He easily could have overcome you, the admiral that he was. You heard the rumors of his swashbuckling run-ins with pirates and saw him in action as a guard. You knew the depths of his strength. He let you slip away. “That is an order from your princess, Miguel. Perhaps you’ve forgotten, but it is the rose festival. I have duties to maintain peace that don’t require things such as murder and treason to the crown.”

He snapped his head down, inspecting something wildly interesting on the stony floor. His hands flexed and curled into tight fists, as though he could do or say anything more that would talk you from throwing you out of your quarters. His anger piqued before he absolved it of outward expression, instead speaking with a hard voice.

“We will speak of this again.” 

“Out.” 

He never wanted this. But it was necessary.

Miggy, Miggy, me duele. 

The pain will pass, mi amor. 

The only type of hurt Miguel wanted to give you preceded pleasure. One that could be fixed with patience and doting attention. That was what the rose festival provided nearly eight years ago. Today-- that reality couldn’t be any different from his reality. 

Jess’s military presence was intense. Normally, you could cut bundles of bouncy rosy flowers and interact freely with others attending, creating rose products that could be bought, traded, or sold. Your chamber ladies held wicker baskets jam-packed with long flowers to be given to expecting or aged mothers, a small gift for their motherly worries. A parasol blocked the warm Mediterranean skin from your exposed skin. 

“She looks beautiful today, eh?” 

Lyla nudged him with a sticky creampuff between her fingers. Its rosy pink filling was smeared over her slight lip. Miguel’s arms turned one over the other, not a complaint on his lips. She was right as she usually was. You never wore red-- but the occasions that you did never failed to render him breathless. Unfortunately for him, the long dress hugged your curves beautifully, a fat bow behind your back, the diadem settled neatly along your head. You looked beautiful-- like that night, sliding into a hot bath of nothing but warm petals and rose oil purchased from some overly excited peasant. What he wouldn't give to hold your parasol, or the baskets, to simply be close.

“Suppose you didn’t think this bit through,” she leaned in, whispering words in his ear. “The whole let’s assassinate what’s left of her family.” 

“Shut up,” Miguel pushed off the wall. “If you’re so knowledgeable, help me.” 

“I could do that. Princess!” Lyla waved, rushing over. He followed her like a second shadow, nipping on her heels. Your gaze snapped to hers. A slightly forced smile worked at your lips as you brought your red-gloved fingers to the basket your chamber lady had. He tried to make eye contact-- but found you looked anywhere but his eyes, avoiding him in the cruelest way you could. 

“Lady Lyla, I have something for you.” 

“For me?” she laughed, a teasing thing. “I never receive gifts.” 

“I give you casks of rum.” Miguel protested. You looked at Lyla for a moment, eyes flickering gently, before continuing your search. 

How did you punish him? You look anywhere but at him. You ignore his existence. He longs.

“Yes,” you plucked out a ruby red crown of roses. “Well, girls, perhaps Lyla would like to feel like a woman for once. Trapped on the admiral’s battered and broken ship does not serve for much of a love life. Other than brief encounters at distant ports. Which I am sure you do not care much for.” 

“Eh,” Lyla shrugged off the suggestion, slipping onto a knee so that you could set the crown of flowers on her head. She stands back up, nodding her head appreciatively. “I’ve had relations with some beautiful women.” 

“Oh, please tell,” you took her thin arm and pulled her from his side, pinching your skirt between your fingers and walking on. As if he were fucking invincible-- “I am sure the admiral has taken on many lovers during the years. Have you?” 

“He’s not even had one.” Lyla laughed, “Unless you count his hand.” 

She thought she was so funny. Your chambermaids certainly thought she was, chittering in laughter among one another. He quickly understood that you not only did not want to speak to him but by peeling his-- begrudgingly said-- best friend away from him, you sought to make a point. To make him feel as lonely as your grief made you. In this busy, love-filled festival, he certainly felt it. 

Miguel doesn’t buy things often. But there was something in the way the tiny stick of a man spoke. The glitter in his plain brown eyes invited Miguel to buy the stupid oil treatment that he spilled into his bath now. I think I remember you, you were the princess’s guard, the man said. You bought the princess this treatment years ago!

He couldn’t have remembered it. Miguel abandoned the towel by a gilded chair, sliding his sore muscles into the hot water. He shouldn’t have left to help his men at the docks. His muscles were tight with the tension of moving crates of products onto ships all afternoon and into the late hours of the night. The subsequent days of the rose festival proceeded much the same. It was nearly over. Jess would come soon to press him about his marriage. One that he was not certain would proceed-- not if things kept in this vein. Yet, he couldn't bear to walk to your chambers again, to force you into it.

“I’ve thought about it.” 

Miguel would have jerked out of the bath if not for your hands sinking into the warm waters of the bath. Your gloves were thrown somewhere else, not here, dipping around his broad torso and below the waters. You wrenched your hand around his cock, gently pulling his dick to hardness underneath the waters. It did not take much-- it had been so long. He couldn’t quite process your words with the way you stroked him, milking him as if he were detached from his cock. 

“Miggy."

"Yes...?" he didn't know what else to say.

"You murdered my father because you want to be king,” you said, the words held a vein of resentment. You enjoyed it, stroking the soft skin of his dick, tracing the veins that rushed to his head. You especially loved how he stiffened and grew in your silky hands. Miguel gripped the sides of the bath, his knuckles growing white as he held the rim. 

“I don’t want to be king. I want you, I’d-- carajo-- murder him a hundred times over,” he supplied the truth, the words falling from his lips with great effort. Your other hand sunk lower, grasping his balls in your palm and melding them. You squeezed him in some mock punishment. But it wasn’t-- not nearly. It felt good. He cried out, a small pant of air filling the room. 

“Hush, Miguel.” 

“No-- te necesito. I need you, I’m so fucking-- I’m hard,” your languid circular strokes of his shaft were agonizing and caused him to ache. His nails dug into the side of the bath, mesmerized by how gently you treated him, settling a kiss at the side of his neck. Your pace quickened, jerking him more insistently. The many days at sea that he stroked himself just like this-- with the dream of your hands being the one to do it, to do just this, all culminated in Miguel’s harsh panting, trying to obey-- to be good for you, just as you had years ago. 

“I know you do. You want me to marry you?” you murmured against his neck, tracing his pulse. He dropped his head back, closing his eyes, offering you only a small nod. Your hands drew back, leaving him bobbing in the water, so hard it hurt. So hard-- “Stop it.” 

Miguel complied. You drew back your deep red cowl, drawing the strands loose as you moved in front of him. He bore at you in an incredible amount of awe, his hand pulling at his cock like it were second nature. He pounded into his own hand, so high on the lovely sight before him that it surged in his chest, the beautiful way your nails pulled at the frilled bottom of your nightgown, lifting and pulling it off your body. His mind was a haze, skin warm by the hot oil in the bath. What remained was a desire to be touched by you. 

“¿Qué? I didn’t hear you,” your fingers teetered along your clit, stroking along your wet lips. Miguel soaked his own lips with the hunger that rose from the need to touch and be touched by you. 

“Sí,” Miguel murmured, the words short and slight. You slipped into the water, gripping the rim of the bath and presented your ass to him. Miguel’s eyes caught your puffy lips, flecks of rose matted to your skin. He didn’t dare move-- lest you tell him to get out. 

“Come mount me,” you urged, the words soft, gentle, inviting him to climb over your body. He didn’t know why-- but happiness bloomed in his chest, “Since you murdered what family I had left, you’ll give me more.” 

“Give you… you want me to…” Miguel’s mind fizzled out, all cognizant thought of what you meant left field. In its place was the certainty of what you wanted. You wanted him-- his children. He clambered over you, nudging your lips with his cockhead. 

“Sí, mi amor, I want you to impregnate me.” Your hand reached back, nails clawing into his muscular hip. Miguel flinched, the blunt head of his cock pressed against your entrance. Water sloshed over the rim of the bath onto marble floors. What you asked for was to be used, to be filled. He couldn't equate the depths of your need when just a few days ago you banished him from your chambers.

“Is that so? Then I won’t pull out.” 

“I expect you not to,” you bit back. 

“Fuck,” Miguel murmured, taking his time in sliding forward. He wanted to savor the feeling, the way his cock slid apart walls that hadn’t been used in years. Your body stretched to make room for him, the feeling of burning pleasure dancing down your spine. Miguel gasped, realizing he should have fingered you first-- because your body was tight, so warm and good, full of his cock deep in your belly. You moaned his name, sounding so beautiful in ways that Miguel had only dreamed of in the past few years. 

He snapped his hips in forceful but short thrusts, his fingers gliding up your sides to your breasts, his thumb and index finger rolled and pinched your nipples. “Dios mío,” he found himself panting. “I’ve missed this.” 

“So Lyla says,” you threw back. “Ah, there, faster--” 

“As you wish.” 

You were talking far too much for his liking. His hands snapped down to your core, fingers delving against the clitoral hood, that sweet little spot he knew would cause a weakness in this facade of yours. You gasped, lowering your head down over the rim of the bath, accepting his thrusts with helpless cries of his name, growing in their intelligibility, until felt it more than he heard it. Your pussy spasmed around him, milking him for his seed. Not yet, he wanted to remember the way you cried for him-- for his children. He snapped his hips hard, short thrusts snatching any relief of orgasm far away. 

“Por fa Miggy,” you whispered, something soft and hot. His eyes went wide, failing to focus on anything but your voice. “Don’t be a tease. Give me your seed.” 

He responded with nothing short of a sharp growl, turning his hands onto your hips. He threw his hips forward in a harsh, punishing pace, as if he were taking out every second you punished him out on you now. Water soaked the floor, replaced with the ringing slap of his hips thrown against yours, his heavy balls full of cum that-- seconds later, he released. Miguel choked loud grunts, scratching at your back for relief. You felt his warm seed fill your walls, his chest bowing over yours as he spurt his cum seated against your cervix. His claws drew lines of blood free of your unmarred hips, marks of his claim. 

“Stay-- stay there,” Miguel murmured against your back, pressing small kisses along your back to your shoulder. “If you want a baby, my seed needs to take.” 

Soon enough, Miguel grew soft and fell free from your body, globs of his cum spilling down your thighs. He stepped out of the bath, drying himself off and throwing the towel on the slippery floor. He extended his hand out for you to take. You did, sliding over the crumpled clothes Miguel threw on the floor so that you would not slip. 

“You marry me tomorrow,” you supplied. Miguel’s bushy eyebrows pushed up, suddenly realizing why Jess had not yet come to bother him about his failure to secure a fitting date for marriage. You must have arranged it. 

“What do you mean tomorrow?” 

“Then our honeymoon. I want to have a child in my arms before the year is up, Miggy. You can handle politics, war, Stone. I care not for any of it.” You settled your hand on Miguel’s chest, drawing it down over his firm pecs to the muscles of his stomach. He glanced toward your core, cum soaking your walls. “You have no choice.” 

“You mean to say you are forcing me into marriage?” Miguel bit out, a heavy breath slipping out of his lips when you grabbed him again. Already? You walked him back out of the bathroom and into his bedroom, pushing him onto the silken sheets. He fell with a grunt, catching your body and dragging you on top. Cum from your leaking cunt soaked his thigh. You brought your thumb to his lips, quirking it against one of his fangs. Miguel turned his face to the side, glaring into the dark night.

“As if it were so hard. Now, the correct response is yes, my princess.” 

He chuckled, small and pleased.

“Yes, my queen.” 

Queen did sound so good when it came from his lips. 

[compact-turtle]

How would Atticus deal with a flirty s/o?

One that would interrupt his chores and ask him if they can have a quick word with him only to push him against the wall to suck and kiss at his neck while trailing their hand down his jeans-

But pulls back before anything else can happen with a pout on their lips saying something along the lines of "not wanting to bother him too much but wanted to express how much they miss him"

I combined both of these asks into one since they’re very similar! Also thank you for reading it and taking time to engage and interact with my Yandere content! Means the word to me :)

——————

“Atticus, can I talk to you about something”, You asked standing by the barn door, “I promise it’ll only take a minute.”

“Ay, what is it?”

-Atticus wipes the sweat off his brow. He puts his tools down and follows you outside. For a moment, he’s caught off guard as you corner him.

-You bury you head in his chest. The itchy fabric rubs against your face. Still you don’t relent. Your arms wrap around his waist.

“I felt a bit lonely doing all the chores by myself . I just wanted to check up on you. Were you busy? “

“Yes.”

-A small giggle escaped your body. You stare up at him with complete delight. Atticus was captured by your bright eyes. They enveloped him like a sailor to a siren.

-Slowly, you snake your hands to the front of Atticus’s shirt. You let them fiddle with his shirt buttons. Then, your hands traveled even lower.

-Each moment was agonizing for Atticus. His mind blanked out from what was happening. He couldn’t comprehend your soft your hands were or the goosebumps left on his skin.

-Atticus was desperate. He wanted to show you how good he could be. How good he could make you feel. Afterwards, you’d never chose another man.

-Your hands finally reached the buckle of his belt. His heart began to pound. He could feel his stomach twist in excitement. Finally, he’d been waiting for this moment for so long.

-Just as quickly though, you withdrew your ands from his pants. You separated yourself from his body. Hastily, you began to scurry away from Atticus.

“Then I’ll leave you back to your duties. I just wanted to say how much I miss you.” You called as you ran towards to house.

-It was fun teasing him like this. You enjoyed seeing his reactions and how eager he looked. Quite the opposite from his usual stiff demeanor.

-But you don’t get too far. Two strong arms pull you back. Something thick pokes your back. Atticus’s warm breath tickles your ears. His gruff voice whispers in your ear.

“Work can wait.”

————

Your three friends in the corner celebrating that you seduced Atticus:

“Does this mean we get to slack off now or..??”

[luimagines]

Can I please ask for the chain with a s/o from their timeliness meeting the other links please? I just think that they all deserve a special somebody! Also happy anniversary!!

That sounds adorable! Of course you can! I hope I understand what you mean by this.   ^.^*

Masterlist

Part one will include Hyrule, Wind and Sky

Content under the cut!

Hyrule

It was a lull in the routine that day.

Hyrule was beginning to suspect that something was about to jump around the corner to shake things up but there was no way he prove his suspicions to anyone other than the Veteran, who was just arguably more paranoid than he was.

He hummed and kicked a rock down the road. Would it be too much to make it a bit more noticeable that they were traveling together? Just to get the attack over with.

Nothing comes out to ambush them. The path is just as silent as ever.

A scream rips through the air and Hyrule takes off running toward the sound. His adrenaline spikes, more so with the knowledge that he was correct at the end of the day.

By the time he reaches the source of the sound the others have half way taken care of the problem. But there’s one thing Hyrule didn’t account for.

His blood freezes at the sight of you and b-lines toward you. His attention is no longer on the monster. The others can handle it just fine he’s sure. Instead he sprints with all he has in your direction, picking you up and taking you out of the line of fire without a second thought.

“Link!” You cry with delight and hang onto him like a life line. “I found you!”

Hyrule jumps behind a boulder and his life spell explodes from his palms. The spell glows against you beautifully. In other circumstance, Hyrule would have paused to admire it. But the adrenaline makes it hard for him to focus on the finer details.

The spell only dances over your form. It sinks down in a patch by your elbow and a cut on your leg, but you are otherwise unharmed.

“What are you doing here?” Hyrule pulls your close, hugging you as tight as he can. “Not that I’m not happy to see you. Hi, hello, how have you been?”

You laugh and shake your head, hugging him back just as fiercely.  “Better now that I’ve seen you again.”

Hyrule relaxes. He can feel the strength of your heartbeat respond to his own with the passion he holds you with. You’re ok. You’re not even injured. And he has you in his arms again. “This isn’t safe...”

“I know.” You sigh. “I don’t even know how I got here. That monster was huge.”

“They’ve been getting worse.” Hyrule admits. “That’s why I’m here.”

You nod, letting yourself be held by him. It wasn’t everyday that you got to hold him as closely and as intimately as you wanted. You turn and lean into him more. “I missed you.”

“I missed you too.” Hyrule says with a small breathless laugh. “I still can’t believe that you’re here-”

“Hey Traveler!” He hears Wild call out. “Where’d you go with that person? Are they dead?”

Hyrule’s grip tightens on you only marginally before he relaxes again. “They’re fine!” He calls over your head. “All healed up!”

Hyrule pulls away, albeit regrettably. 

“Link, who are they?” You follow him with little resistance. “Why do they call you Traveler?”

“It’s a long story.” Hyrule takes your hand. “But they’re good friends of mine now and we’re all going to fix this problem...We’re also all named Link, so the name thing is a patch job at best because-”

“You stink at naming things.” You snort.

“If it’s any consolation, it wasn’t my idea. Nor did I name myself.” Hyrule deadpans.

“Well I’d love to meet them.”

“Good. Because they’d badger me endlessly if you didn’t.” Hyrule tugs you along, keeping you close. “I apologize in advance for anything they might say or do.”

“They can’t be that bad if you trust them.”

“I admire your trust in me, but believe me, that sentence is unfounded.” 

Wind (best friend/crush but no established relationship)

“Do you have any one you like, Sailor?”

“I like a lot of people.” Wind tilts his head at the Captain. “I have a lot of friends.”

“I- no. That’s not what I mean.” He laughs and shakes his head. “Although, I’m glad to hear it.”

Wind takes another moment to think about the other’s question. It was simple enough in nature, but he was certain that he answered it the correct way. “You might have to be more specific then. I mean, I like you guys and I like my family, my sister. There’s Tetra and the pirate crew. I like those guys and I like Linebeck too.”

Warrior nods along, happy to get the Sailor talking anyway. But this isn’t what he was talking about. Vaguely, there’s a voice in his head that this something he should ask the boy, but at the same time, he doesn’t think there’s any harm in it. Clearly, he didn’t understand it the first time around, so perhaps it’s non applicable to the young hero.

Still, he’s inclined to ask his questions differently. It’s fun to be nosey. “Is there someone you like more than anyone else?”

“Yeah.” A new voice speaks from their right. “Me.”

Wind gasp, yelling your name out excitedly before he sprits towards you. You both collide with enough force that the sound leaves the nearby heroes to wince, even if they’re relived to know that Wind knows you. And clearly trusts you enough to catch him is he all but threw himself towards you.

Wind begins to jump on his toes, hugging you with obvious enthusiasm. “I can’t believe you’re here! I was wondering when I would see you again!...Why are you here?”

Wind’s smile drops and he pulls away from your suddenly. Within the next second, he’s searching all over you for injuries of any kind. He needs to prove to himself that there’s nothing wrong. Because now you’re far from home... with questionable means of travel. Wind needs to make sure that everything is ok before he can continue on with his conversation.

The rushed check up leave you giggling and shaking your head. You stick your hands out at the sides and spin slowly to same him the work of going around you. “I’m fine, worrywart. I’m glad to see you’re ok too... Maybe.... Is that a new scar?” 

You point just below his chin and your eyebrows furrow when you look closer. It’s faint to be sure, but you were certain that it wasn’t there when he left the island.

Wind grins, looking proud of himself. Yes, the scar is new and there’s is clearly a story attached to it. Oh well, it’s not all that bad anyway. You grin. “Tell me about it later, yeah?”

“Of course.”

Warrior clears his throat and smiles back towards the duo. “Mind introducing us, Sailor?”

Wind perks up and takes your hand, holding you close simply because he can. “This is my best friend in the whole wide world! Hey-” He says your name, tugging on your hand as he gestures with the other. “These are the guys I’ve been traveling with. The ones that have my name.”

Your eyes widen and you nod in understanding. “Who’s this one then?”

“The Captain.”

“From that weird portal battle you had?” You whisper non too quietly.

Wind nods back and leans closer. “Don’t listen to him too much. He’s just as weird as before.”

“Hey!” Warrior’s metaphorical feathers puff as their ruffled from the idea. “I’m not that bad!″

Wind sticks his tongue out and turns to you again. “You have the meet the Veteran. He’s got more stories than me! This way!”

Warrior sticks his own tongue out, not bothering to hide his skin deep annoyance. He didn’t even get to question your answer about being Wind’s favorite. However, seeing the reaction your presence brought onto the boy’s face, Warrior smiles to himself. It’s just as well. It’s not like you were proven wrong anyway.

Sky

He felt as if the whole group walked ten extra miles today without any form of rest. No one was going to give it to him until they made camp.

When that moment arrived he was quick to collapsed next to the nearest tree and rest his head against it. His whole body seemed to be yelling at him.

Suddenly noises were all around him. None of which were threatening. They were just... loud... and confused.

“Link?” A familiar voice calls out softly. It wipes away any exhaustion he was feeling in that moment.

His eyes shoot open and he’s looking for where the source of the voice was.

He sees you and scrambles to his feet. His body is not happy about it. His legs nearly give out, sending Sky to catch himself on one knee before he pushes himself up again. Sky runs. And he hates running.

Luckily, you run towards him too. The speed and force in which you collide with each other sends a thick thump through the camp grounds.

 “I was wondering which Link they meant.” Wild whispers to himself, running his wrist over his forehead.

“What are you doing here?” Sky asks first, breathlessly placing little butterfly kisses over your face.

You laugh, unable to stop him. “I don’t know. I opened the door, left the house, turned around and found myself nearby. I’m glad I found your first.”

Sky nods, laughing breathlessly himself. “I’m happy for it.”

He dips his face into the crook of your neck and speaks softly, so that only you can hear it. “I missed you. There hasn’t been a day where you weren’t on my mind.”

“Oh for Din’s sake.” Sky hears Legend roll his eyes. “The rest of us are trying to eat and rest. Don’t you dare start that here.”

Sky snorts, placing another delicate kiss on the skin before him, reveling in the way you tense to hide the hitch in your breath. “I would gladly take you home. Where is it?”

“NOT WHAT I MEANT!”

You laugh some more. It’s a musical and magical sound. Sky prides himself in being able to invoke it so quickly out of you. You smack his chest slightly and he backs off only slightly.

“So I guess these are your friends from your letters.” You turn around and look at the group. Sky tightens his hold around you once more, letting his chin rest on your shoulder.

“Yes.” Sky answers. “I wonder if you can tell who’s who from interaction alone.”

“That’s almost impossible.” You raise an eyebrow at him, wondering if that challenge is even feasible. “Wouldn’t introduction be easier?”

Sky smirks. “Men, this is the love of my life. Beloved, meet Link.”

“You’re impossible.”

“You love me.”

“Well we’re honored to meet you.” Time sticks out his hand a proud smile on his face. He seems to be reminiscing about something. “The Knight of Skyloft, speaks highly of you.”

“And only of you.” Legend pretends to be annoyed, but he seems to have softened. “He’s a good one. Treat him right.”

“As if I’ll ever give him up.” You reply, turning to nudge your head against the man that holds you tenderly.

Sky smiles and closes his eyes. It feels good to hold you again. He doesn’t want to think about what this means. He’s not going to look a gift horse in the mouth (a phrase he learned from the Rancher). For now, he’ll enjoy taking you in after so long. He’s missed you.

Part 2

[bradshawsbitch]

whiskey sour | bradley bradshaw x f!reader

disclaimer: this fic is my contribution to @callsign-phoenix 's 1K celebration! I had the prompt 'bradley sour' and figured I'd give a little slow burn fic a whirl! fun fact, I used to bartend - and my absolute favourite drink to make and devour was whiskey sours.

warnings: afab!reader, fem!reader, no use of y/n, pet names, slow burn, naval inaccuracies, bradley being a lil sad, mentions of alcohol - consuming and making alcoholic beverages.

description: you bartend at the hard deck to bradley's great content, until you don't anymore.

tagging: @roosterforme @theharddeck @mak-32 @hangmanbrainrot

word count: ~4K.

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“Pour 2 oz of whiskey or bourbon in to a shaker,”

It had been closer to 10 years now. 10 years of snippets of life shared with one of the best people you’d ever had the luck to meet. The first time your paths crossed, was your first shift as a bartender at the Hard Deck. A young man, who didn’t quite possess the confident stance he held nowadays, with a form that was a little slimmer, and a clean shaven face, walked into the bar. The first time you laid eyes on Bradley Bradshaw was when he was first called to Top Gun, when he was only in his twenties.

He’d approached the bar on a slow day, and his hesitant way of asking for something to drink almost had you asking him for his ID. He’d been a bit unsure as you asked if he’d like a beer that you’d seen his mates getting earlier. Bradley had furrowed his brow, gently rubbing the tip of his nose, (something you now knew was a tell that he was hesitant or nervous) and he looked almost resolved to reluctantly telling you yes before you cut him off.

“Or, I could make you something else. Something a bit tastier than beer,” honestly, to this day, you’ll never know why you wanted to put him at ease. Why you wanted to please him, why you’d rather see a smile on his handsome face than a frown.

“Make me something else? You mean like a drink?” there was hesitance laced within those words. A small smirk was tugging on the corners of your lips, you were quite sure he was hesitant about bringing a drink back to his pals - afraid your version of a drink might hold a tiny umbrella and tonnes of fruit.

“Not to worry, sailor. I’ll make you something very classy. Manly, if you will,” he chuckled at your joke, feeling his shoulders relax a bit as you smiled at him. He didn’t correct you that time, and it took you quite a while to tell the difference between sailors, aviators and other personnel. 

“What did you have in mind?” His voice was so soothing. A hint of a rasp, his tenor enticing you entirely. Before a flush of warmth could overtake your body you replied steadily;

“A whiskey sour of course. It’s sort of my specialty,” he nodded, smiling softly at you in affirmation of your choice, though he later told you he’d never had one before, but he didn’t want to tell you because he figured he’d embarrassed himself enough already. 

“Add lemon juice to the shaker,”

That first whiskey sour had Bradley’s amber eyes widening, twinkling in delight at the taste. Your eager smile urged him to tell you how good it was, and how he appreciated you taking the time to make him one.

Approximately a week later he had come back, bashfully asking you to make “that drink” again, because he’d forgotten the name. You’d smiled broadly, and he’d backtracked a little saying he didn’t expect you to remember his order, the tips of his ears turning red. Reassuring him, you told him the name of the drink before making it a second time, out of many more to come. 

Those weeks that Bradley was stationed in San Diego for Top Gun were some of your best in your twenties. Bradley had invited you to various beach hang outs with his friends, and the two of you formed a close friendship. You were the first one his eyes sought out as he entered the Hard Deck, every time he had the fortune to stroll inside. 

“Add simple syrup to taste,”

When Bradley at long last was ordered to be stationed elsewhere, he visited you one last time, and you could hardly keep your tears at bay as he entered, saying that he’d be ordering his last whiskey sour from you for some time, his khaki uniform making him look rather handsome, his button-up short sleeved top hanging off his shoulders, the sleeves moving as he tipped the tumbler you’d placed in front of him to his plump lips. 

“I’ll miss you, Bradley,” you’d confessed bashfully, and his wide smile had momentarily rendered you breathless.

“I’ll miss you too, sugar. I hope I’ll be able to come back soon to enjoy more of these,” he replied, smiling softly at you. 

As it was, Bradley wouldn’t come back soon. It would be two years before he entered the Hard Deck again. 

Truthfully, he half expected to see a random stranger behind his favorite bar. After all, he wouldn’t expect you to hang around for him or anyone else - surely you’d moved on to become something else, or took your bartending skills elsewhere. But to his great delight, as he opened the door to the bar, he could see your form behind the bartop. You were busy talking to a woman with black hair, polishing a glass with a rag before hanging it above your head. He smiled at the sight, warmth filling his stomach at the sight of you. You’d changed your hair color, and he couldn’t help but miss your original one - even though you looked beautiful either way. 

As he took in your form, you looked up as the door closed behind him. Your beautiful face lit up with joy as you saw him, eyes filled with surprise and relief. It made Roosters' heart stutter, the way you lit up when you saw him. He hadn’t had anyone looking at him like that for many years.

“Rooster!” you were already leaning against the bartop, reaching for a shaker and a bottle of bourbon you knew he preferred his sours based on. You’d used Bradley to perfect your drink, and switched it up every so often to pick up what he preferred. 

“Sugar,” he sighed happily, leaning against the bartop, drinking in your happy demeanor. “I’m very glad to find you here,” he confessed with that raspy tenor that you had missed so much. 

“Where else would I be?” you smiled at him as you worked “I won’t be shipped out anytime soon,” Bradley chuckled at your joke, only feeling the slightest sting of hurt somewhere deep in his chest at your comment. 

“You look good, sugar,” Bradley murmured, leaning closer to you over the bartop. Your movements stuttered momentarily, before you picked up a scoop of ice to add to the shaker. As you poured his drink over ice in a tumbler in silence, he wondered if he had overstepped some invisible boundary after not having seen you for 752 days.

“You’ve grown a mustache,” you replied, motioning to the sparse hair that he’d tried to grow out for a few months now. He chuckled and nodded “Quite right,” as you added some finishing touches; he soon held the tumbler in his hands, a sigh of contentment slipping past his lips as he tasted the perfect balance of sweet, sour and bourbon. 

“Sugar, no one makes these like you. They taste awful in Lemoore,” he wrinkled his nose as he recalled a time he’d been out with his squadron in a pub off base, your face had popped up in his inebriated mind, and he’d found that he missed you, your conversations, and your delicious drinks. He’d ordered one in hopes of being enveloped by that comforting, warm and fuzzy feelings your drinks filled him with. However, he’d been met with a drink that had far too much sour in it, and the usage of a cheap whiskey had further made the drink taste like a cold shower more than the comfort he so yearned for. 

That one night was the only Bradley could spare you before he disappeared again, leaving you at the Hard Deck to prepare drinks for other patrons. None of them invoking the feelings Bradley did in you. 

“Carefully separate yolk and eggwhite, before adding the white to the shaker,”

Another 3 years passed. You’d entered a relationship during that time, though you were quite certain it wouldn’t last too long. You’d been enamored by their wit and easy-going nature - but as the relationship progressed, it had gotten increasingly obvious that this person had never had to lift a finger for themselves in their life. Which would be fine, if they did not expect you to do their every bidding. The pressure of constantly being at the beck and call of a partner, the pressure of making sure groceries were bought, the apartment cleaned, clothes washed and presents bought for friends and family, making sure rent was paid on time by working long hours at the Hard Deck - you were at the end of your rope. 

Sometimes your thoughts would linger on the memories of Bradley. His lovely tenor, his easy manners and his natural charm. You missed seeing the bashful face that you had first encountered five years ago. And as you ended your short lived relationship, you couldn’t help but think of amber eyes.

“Dry shake the ingredients to work up a nice foam,”

Bradley wouldn’t exactly say he was especially lonely. He had friends that he loved to hang out with, his co-workers had at this point in time formed a tight knit squadron that had each other’s back at any point in time. He thrived in their company, feeding off of the energy of their happy smiles at his jokes and their general existence. However, when he closed the door to his dorm it all stopped. He was reminded that at the end of the day, he was awfully alone. No one to call if he had a rough day, no one to call for advice.

It made Bradley reflect upon the past couple of years, his fingers running slowly through his short curls. Sadly enough, there had only been one constant, one person who always greeted him with glittering eyes and a sunny smile. Always happy to see him, always ready with that shaker, already knowing what he was going to order. She always asked how he’d been, and genuinely seemed relieved to see him alive any time he walked into the Hard Deck. It always made him feel fuzzy and warm, but perhaps that was the liquor she supplied him. He hadn’t seen her in about four years now. Which meant that the first time he met her would be about six years ago. Furrowing his brows, he sat up straighter. It couldn’t have been six years already. And Bradley had never worked up the courage to ask her for her number, ask her on a date, or even ask if she wanted to grab a coffee just as friends outside of the Hard Deck. He felt ashamed. Why had he never thought to ask for your number? He was determined to get it, as he was about to be shipped off to San Diego for a brief period of time. 

Bradley’s feet had barely gotten used to the San Diego soil before he rushed towards the bar. What if you weren’t there? The heavy door of the Hard Deck swung open, and he frantically looked around, trying to locate you. And there you were, half turned away from him as you tried to reach to change a lightbulb that had gone out.

“Sugar,” he sighed out, relief washing through his entire being as he drank in your appearance. You’d changed just slightly, the softness of youth slowly leaving you, as it had him too. He’d spent more time in the gym lately, to keep his aging body fit for flight. His khaki uniform now strained against his chest slightly, and there was no longer any room for the sleeves to move much. As his whispered nickname reached your ears, he could see you turn, see your surprised look morphe into a look of shock, of wonder, and ultimately of the greatest joy he’d seen.

“Rooster!” you laughed, and Bradley almost felt like crying hearing that lovely sound accompanying his callsign. Before he knew what was happening, you had hurried towards him, throwing your arms around his neck and embracing him hard. He’d only received a handful of hugs from you before this, but it had been so long. So, so long since he’d inhaled your sweet scent, seen the light in your eyes, witnessed how they lit up, been so long since he’d felt your body pressed tight against his chest.

“Sugar,” he murmured again, holding you close against him, swaying slightly back and forth before releasing you. As he looked down at you, he watched as your eyes roamed over him, taking in his slightly changed form.

“Rooster, you–” you paused, frowning slightly “Where did my Rooster go?” you hadn’t meant to sound so sad, but gone was your lankier Rooster, hair a little darker and mustache a little thinner. Now he was… big. There was no other word for it. His physique was impeccable, and his facial hair had finally thickened just to his liking. He was more tanned, and his hair lighter. It took your breath away.

“I’m right here, Sugar, I promise” Bradley smiled softly, not wanting you to be sad, but completely understanding your confusion at seeing him after so long.

“Are… are you staying long?” the tinge of hope in your voice broke his heart, and he had to avert his gaze to the floor to avoid being hit with your disappointment. His hand reached up to rub at the tip of his nose, brows furrowed as he shook his head. 

“Afraid not,” he replied solemnly, looking into your eyes again. He was surprised to find them soft, with an unreadable emotion swirling in their depths. 

“Well then, I better start on that whiskey sour then?” you smiled, softly letting your fingers grace against his, gingerly grabbing ahold of two of his fingers to lead him to the bar. 

Bradley smiled as he watched you flurry around the bar, hands instinctively grabbing bottles without looking at them - confident in your having sorted the bottles at the start of your shift, knowing where you’d put everything as you prepped, making sure it was all mise en place. You talked as you crafted his drink, telling him stories of what he’d missed in San Diego whilst he was gone. Bradley in turn updated you on his life as the evening came. After a couple of drinks, Rooster was enveloped in that warm fuzzy feeling that he had first gotten the moment your arms had enveloped his neck. He never wanted to leave this bar. Never wanted to leave you again. 

“Sugar,” he mumbled as he noticed the time on his watch. 

“Duty calls?” you replied sadly, offering him a weak smile as he rose. Should he ask you? Was it stupid of him to think you’d want to keep in touch with him as he was stationed elsewhere? Were you committed to someone else? Surely you were. But as he took in the sadness in your eyes, he noticed that one unreadable emotion again. He figured he had to try to hop off the perch.

“Could I… I mean, I miss you when I’m not here. And, well– if you wouldn’t mind of course,” fuck, he was rambling - but as he chanced a glance at your face, he saw nothing but softness, you didn’t seem annoyed, didn’t seem to mind that he was fumbling his words - as he paused, you smiled one of your comforting smiles and he soldiered on “Could I maybe have your number?” He finally managed to breathe out. The enormous grin that broke out on your face was almost reward enough for him, but as you scribbled your number on a piece of paper and gave it to him, he swore he could dance with joy.

“Can I give you a hug before you go, Bradley?” you whispered, and you blinked quickly to get rid of the burning sensation in your eyes. Roosters’ heart leapt, not only at the fact that you wanted to see him off with a hug, but also how his name rolled off of your lips so beautifully. His name. Not Rooster. Bradley. His heart clenched painfully in his chest, it had been a while since his name had been said with such care.

“Of course, Sugar. C’mere,” he murmured, opening his arms to envelop you in a long embrace, lips gently resting at the top of your head as he inhaled your sweet scent. And then he was gone. Again. This time hurt more than the others, you noted, as the dull ache of seeing Bradley leave again started up deep within your chest. 

“When you’ve worked up a nice foam, add ice to the shaker and shake again”

The four years that passed since that exchange went by a little easier, perhaps because now you and Rooster texted, called and facetimed another. Not as frequently as you would like, but you understood that Rooster was busy advancing in his career, going on long missions where he didn’t have or wasn’t allowed cell service. He checked in with you when he could, and you made a point of only speaking of the good parts in your life. The funny stuff that happened at the Hard Deck, the new drink recipe you tried. You didn’t mention that you’d saved up enough to try your hand at an education, how tired you were all the time as your days were filled with lectures, seminars and studying - nights filled with drunk aviators and sailors, and somewhere in between you’d find some time to sleep.

As the tenth anniversary of meeting Rooster was coming up, you had finally graduated, and you were now three weeks away from leaving the Hard Deck to pursue the job of your dreams. You’d been thrilled that you’d found a position in San Diego, near the apartment you rented. Rooster had MIA from your texts for a while, and you figured that maybe he didn’t care too much for his bartender anymore. Perhaps he had finally found a better whiskey sour. 

As you cut up limes and lemons, preparing for the Friday night ahead, Penny approached you with a smile, carrying a large box of new beers. 

“Oh, is that the new IPAs?” you questioned with a smile, and Penny nodded in affirmative, “I’ve got them Pen, you’ve been working since this morning. Go take a break,” Penny gave you a thankful smile, before patting your shoulder affectionately and making her way out back. 

As Penny left, you heard the front door open. Shit, usually the aviators and sailors were literate, and heeded the sign of the door that held your open hours. 

“Hey, I’m sorry we haven’t opened yet,” you started, not looking away from your cutting board as you heard feet shuffle against the wooden floors.

“Not even for me, Sugar?” eyes snapping up, jaw slacking, you took in the form of Rooster. If it was possible, he’d gotten even broader. His jawline harder and sharper, arms and shoulder filling a hawaiian print button-up so nicely your breath hitched in your throat. It had been so long. You’d wanted him for so long. You weren’t sure you could handle him leaving you right away again. You wanted time. Time to spend with him. Tears burned in your eyes as you took in his form, and you could tell he felt slightly alarmed not to be greeted with your usual happiness. Wiping your tears, you plastered a grin onto your lips as his callsign rolled off your lips in a sigh. 

“I’m so glad you’re here,” Bradley murmured as you walked into his embrace, relaxing against his chest and reveling in his scent. A short laugh shook your frame as you looked up at him with a small smile.

“Yeah, well - it might well be the last time you walk in here to see me behind the bar,” you shrugged, and Bradley stiffened in your arms, his eyes widening. “No,” he whispered, anguished almost that the only constant in his adult life would be leaving him. “You’re not leaving?” he asked, forgoing adding ‘me’ at the end of the sentence.Your soft smile didn’t placate him as it usually did, and he only found comfort as your palm rose to cradle his scarred cheek. 

“I’m afraid so, Rooster.” you confirmed “I’ve been working towards a degree, and I graduated a while back. I’ve got three weeks left at the Hard Deck before I start my dream job,” Bradley’s head was spinning. How did he not know this? Sure, he had your number but you’d only told him of the fun shenanigans that you got up to at the bar. That was when it hit him that he never asked. He never asked for anything else. He wanted to cry and scream, pull his hair and kick himself hard. Why would he take your presence here for granted? 

“Why didn’t you tell me you’d graduated? Sugar… I’m sorry I didn’t make it,” he was so confused, he barely knew what he was saying. He was spiraling, thoughts of how lonely he’d be after training at Top Gun again if you weren’t here spinning endlessly in his mind.

You were silent, taking in the haunted look that shone in Bradley’s amber eyes. A look you hadn’t seen before, and one you were sure you never wanted to see again.

“Bradley, I’m- I’m sorry,” you didn’t know what for, but it seemed to rouse Rooster “No, sweetheart… sugar, no. I just,” he trailed off. You smiled at his rambling, and noticed he’d reached up to rub his nose again - that got a giggle out of you and Rooster furrowed his brows before a small smile tugged on the corner of his lips. 

“I’m not leaving you, Rooster,” you clarified “Couldn’t get rid of me if you tried,” you added “Now, will you be leaving me tomorrow?” your voice had gone almost hard, as if steeling yourself for the answer. Bradley shook his head. 

“Nope. Stationed here for at least a month to train for a mission,” a gasp threatened to fly past your lips at the revelation. He’d be here. For four weeks. That’s the longest he’d stayed since that first time ten years ago. 

“Well, then you’ll catch my last day,” you smiled at him, leaning in closer to him. 

“Can I kiss you?” Bradley blurted out as your thumb had started to gently caress his cheeks, that warm, fuzzy feeling overcoming him again. He couldn’t believe he hadn’t figured out that that feeling hadn’t come from the liquor you were serving him, it was just you. 

“I’ve only been waiting ten years,” you smiled, clutching his shirt between your other hand. Bradley chuckled, his face inching closer to yours, his breath fanning over your face before his warm lips connected with yours. He felt like home, warm, inviting, comforting. Bradley sighed in content, tightening his hold on you, not wanting to let you go just yet.  

“And serve over ice.”

[greyghoulclub]

Getting Billy to admit he was head over heels for Steve was like pulling teeth. The guy was so goddamn stubborn with his denial, yet so obvious with his affections. Heather figured he’d rather dip his toes in boiling oil and say he was interested in being all ‘mushy and sappy’ as he put it with Steve Harrington.

Today was another one of those days. They were both on break from the pool and had decided to go into the mall to get some ice cream. In reality, Heather knew Billy just wanted to stare at Steve in the sailor shorts. Heather blew a pink bubble and popped it as she listened to Billy rant about what annoying-but-not-really thing Steve had done this week.

“He’s saying that he wants to see that new movie, uh, Back to the Future? Yeah that one. And that he wants me to come with him!” Billy said this as if it was the utmost offence that Steve wanted to take Billy to the movies. Heather thought it was so obvious that Steve was just as down bad for Billy as Billy was for Steve. She couldn’t see how Billy didn’t see this but she knew she could be just as oblivious to a crush.

The entrance to Scoops Ahoy stood out in all its maritime themed glory. It had been so humid in Hawkins the last week, the cool breeze from all the freezers was a welcome delight. Both Steve and Robin were on shift today, so Heather could get some girlfriend time while Steve and Billy got their whatever it was sorted out.

Heather smiled as Robin waved from the counter, the other girl had tied her hair up in two messy pigtails that Heather found oh so cute. Heather walked up with Billy bitching behind her.

“Hey cutie, how’s work?” Heather loved how cute Robin got when she was flustered, her blush almost eating all her freckles and extending to the tips of her ears.

“Uhmm g-good, you guys on break?” Robin fiddled with one of her rings, a nervous habit that Heather noticed she did a lot when they were talking.

“Yeah, I was wondering, do you wanna see a movie with me when we both get off? I miss spending time with you,” Heather pouted at the end of her sentence, looking over the top of her sunglasses, batting her lashes.

“Sure! Uh yes! I’d really like that, um, cherry…” Robin bit the corner of her bottom lip, Heather knew she was unsure of the new pet name she had bestowed but Heather thought it was cute.

“Cherry? I like it,” she linked her hands with Robin’s, red and black painted nails forming a pattern.

“You do? Because I thought, y’know you wear cherry lipgloss all the time and you always give me pet names, so I wanted to give you one… I’m rambling again aren’t I?”

“Yeah but you’re cute when you ramble s I don’t mind listening.”

If Robin could get any redder, Heather feared her girlfriend might explode. All of Robin’s circuits were going haywire.

Heather traced her thumb over Robin’s, “hey you wanna make it a double date for Back to the Future?”

Robin snapped back into reality, a confused look on her face, “with who?”

Heather smiled deviously. “Steve and Billy of course.”

Heather hadn’t noticed Steve standing at the back door, he must’ve come back to the front counter while Heather was flirting with Robin. He was just as red as his coworker.

Billy, for once, was stunned. “Did you just hit on Steve for me?”

“Yeah I did,” she grabbed Billy to go back to the pool, “see you guys at 8!” She waved back to the two gobsmacked sailors.

[moths-in-the-attic]

Welcome Sailor Scouts, to Crystal Tokyo

AN: SINCE TUMBLR HAS DECIDED THAT I CAN NO LONGER BACK-POST ANYTHING, I WILL NOT BE ABLE TO CONTINUE THIS PROJECT HERE. INSTEAD, PLEASE REFER TO MY BLOGGER AS THAT SEEMS TO BE THE ONLY PLACE I CAN KEEP MY PAST LOGS DONE TO COMPLETION. I'M REALLY BUMMED ABOUT THIS FYI.

Here, I will try to preserve my Sailor Moon Blog for your enjoyment.

In this little corner of the web, I will be archiving some of the Sailor Moon fandom from days gone by (1997-early 00s). Here you will find hilarious old rumors and my own personal fan-fiction that I penned years ago, as well as other's fanfics as well. 

I hope you enjoy what this space has to offer and please check dates for when things were posted. Some of the rumors were products of their time, and since we are no longer in the 00's I ask you to bear that in mind before making any comments.

Be sure to check back often as I am trying to archive as fast as possible and if you are following a certain story, you'll see the updates sooner.

Cheers,

Malta Aino

(Sailor Universe)

Fanfiction Directory:

*Completed

Together Once More by Andre Garde (8)

Christmas Time Blues - by Andrea Readwolf and Kate Butler

Deck the Menorah with Rows of Cranberries - by Andrea Readwolf and Kate Butler

Let It Snow, Let It Snow, Let it Snow - by Andrea Readwolf and Kate Butler

Santa's Little Helpers - by Andrea Readwolf and Kate Butler

Silver Bells - by Andrea Readwolf and Kate Butler

The Fire is So Delightful - by Andrea Readwolf and Kate Butler

The Nightmare Before Christmas - by Andrea Readwolf and Kate Butler

Winter Wonderland - by Andrea Readwolf and Kate Butler

Angel for Earth - by Angel of Earth (P, 1, 2, 3, 4, 5, 6, 7)

The Millennium of the Planet Princesses - by Malto Aino (Sailor Universe) (1, 2)

Unfinished Sailor Moon/DBZ Crossover - by Malta Aino (Sailor Universe)

OC Sailor Senshi List

Golden Knight (Jeffrey, Mercury's son, my OC)

Sailor Aqua (Elemental Senshi)

Sailor Bunny (Chibimoon's granddaughter, my best friend's OC)

Sailor Constellation (Josalyn, Saturn's daughter, my OC RETIRED)

Sailor Deimos (my OC)

Sailor Earth

Sailor Eclipse (Becky now Kirstin, Saturn's daughter, my OC)

Sailor Flame (Elemental Senshi)

Sailor Galaxy (Taylor now Tessa, Venus's daughter, my OC)

Sailor Gold (Amy now Heather, Mercury's daughter, my OC)

Sailor Gothic (Pluto's granddaughter, my OC)

Sailor Iceberg (Mercury's granddaughter, my OC)

Sailor M

Sailor Meteor (April now Deirdre, Jupiter's daughter, my OC)

Sailor Millennium (Chibimoon's daughter, my best friend's OC)

Sailor Orbit (ZB then Serenade, Mars's daughter, my OC RETIRED)

Sailor Silver (Crystal, then Annie, then Alika, now Emily, Mercury's daughter, my OC)

Sailor Spirit (Elemental Senshi)

Sailor Taurus (Kitten, Pluto's daughter, my OC)

Sailor Triton (my OC)

Sailor Universe (me, Venus's daughter, my OC)

Sailor Underworld (Saturn's granddaughter, my OC)

Sailor Waterfall (Mercury's granddaughter, my OC)

Sailor Wind (Elemental Senshi)

Solar Flare

Sailor Usako

The Links

www.ainominako.net   

Crescent Moon Crystal Tokyo

Crystal Moon Palace

Dark Echo Grounds of Thunder Senshi

www.eternalmoon.org

www.hamena.org

Hikawa Jinja

Ice Senshi: Lake of Illusion

A wonderful site for everything Sailor Moon archive related: Miss Dream

Mizuno Ami's Corner

www.moonchronicals.com

Neko-chan's Kawaii Anime Page

www.odangoatama.org  

www.outlawstar.org

Sailor Mercury's Ice Domain

The best resource for music to all the Sailor Moon media: SailorMusic 

This wasn't a site I frequented, but I guess it was very important to other people in the fandom: Sailor Orion.

SailorPluto.net

Sailor Pluto's Penthouse

www.sailoruniverse.com

www.sailorv.com

Another great Sailor Moon resource that seems to be for the TV series: Sea of Serenity  

www.selenity.com

www.senshi.net

www.serenitatis.com 

Silver Moonlight 

www.supersailormoon.com

The Beautiful World of Sailor Moon

The Gateway to the Silver Millennium

Troublemakers and All Things Naughty 

www.tuxedomask.com

[notalostcausejustyet]

@blairamok ‘s Ineffable May prompt for today was “coffee”

Nina is standing just outside the front door of her café, the warmth of a ceramic mug cradled by hands that are skilled and worn and need the heat to loosen up first thing in the morning. This is the time of day that Nina both loathes and covets. What she refers to with a smirk as, “the taint of dawn”. The witching hour passed a few hours ago, the birds are still abed (they have some sense at least), and the moon is fighting valiantly to pull the sun to wakefulness and with it the world. It is peaceful and still, and– when it isn’t raining– it’s beautiful. It is also way too damned early for this.

Across the street, an automobile that she hasn’t seen in months has pulled up in front of the bookshop. Not a car, no. The only way to refer to that gleaming, black piece of art is, automobile. The lights in the bookshop never go out. But the doors never open. Not anymore, not since the last time that bit-of-a-bygone-era on wheels graced the curb, and the sex-on-legs that is getting out of it drove it away. The shining antique is all luscious, sweeping curves, the man who leans over the top of it, statue-still, is not. He is an incongruous amalgamation of hard lines and acute angles. A whipcord lean fixture in black, gracing the silent morning air.

Nina watches, barely daring to breathe, wondering if this is the day. The day that the odd, heavy feeling that has pervaded Whickber Street for the last several months finally breaks, bringing the storm she knows it heralds. There is a flicker of movement across the street. Nina unconsciously eases her body away from the door frame that she has been frozen against since she first heard the deep growl of an engine. The flicker across the street builds to a violent tremor, and she tilts her head and watches as the long streak of nothing, his hair as red as the breaking dawn, slowly collapses to the pavement.

Nina breathes out a shaking exhale and watches him a moment longer. She turns quietly and notes the bloodied sky, the unusual lack of birdsong, and sets her jaw before heading back inside.

A few moments later she is crouched on the street next to him. A second, steaming mug in hand.

“Six shots of espresso. In a big cup. Nothing else.”

He tilts his head up, looking at her through a curtain of familiar but sadly unkempt crimson hair, expressive brows furrowed in confusion.

“Red sky at night, sailor’s delight. Red sky in the morning, sailors take warning.”

One eyebrow shoots up to his hairline, and his lip begins to curl in a sneer.

“What. In the absolute, horseshite, nonsense…”

Nina bodily shoves the mug into his surprised hands and notes with no small amount of sympathy the way his entire body seems to curl around the warmth it radiates.

“I know what the sign on the shop says. But the ‘death’ bit of ‘Give Me Coffee or Give Me Death’ is metaphorical. ‘Cause we all feel like roadkill before our first cuppa. I’m not sure exactly what happened with you two. But I know what it feels and looks like before a right howler blows in. So I’m bringing you coffee. Coffee is the only option today.”

A second eyebrow has been joining the first in northward migration since Nina started her little monologue. For a few heartbeats, the world seems to hold its breath as they stare at each other.

“Right then. Coffee human. Nina. Cheers.”

He holds his mug up and Nina decisively clinks the edge of her own to it.

“Cheers.”

They both upend their bitter beverages with a grimace, and she stands, holding out a hand.

[indelicateink]

the Interview with the Vampire kink meme continues to be everythinggggg

did you see yesterday's fill? The Interview. brain-melting.

endless thanks to @vampire-dove for maintaining this anon kink meme for us.

i'm going to share some of the prompts going on over there. We are serving VENICE! We are serving Claudeleine! We are serving Louis's first meal! We are serving whump, BDSM, pregnancy, high school au soul bonds, and more! please go add more. please fill prompts. please pulverize these vampires' cervices into dust.

Prompts [6/?]:

Lestat de Lioncourt/Louis de Pointe du Lac Soul Bond, Fate, Hubris

"High school AU. Just because their soul marks match doesn't mean Louis de Pointe du Lac has to choose Lestat de Lioncourt. He can date other guys until he finds someone who is a better temperamental match. That is a thing that he can do."

--

Armand/Louis de Pointe du Lac Dominant Louis de Pointe du Lac, Spanking, Whipping, BDSM, Corporal Punishment, Rough Sex, Submissive Armand, Dom/sub Kinks: impact play, submission, dom/sub. Maybe light dub-com. Maybe rough sex, writer’s choice

"Basically the title - Louis punishes Armand. With the implements hanging in the Dubai bedroom, or with other tools in another era. For what? Writer’s choice! Maybe something as silly as his sassiness as Rashid, or his rudeness in his fight over the Stein photos. Or as serious as punishing him for Paris, as if Louis could ever punish him enough for Paris. Or maybe Paris is always an unspoken part of punishment. Armand craves to submit and get whatever punishment Louis wants to give him.

"NOTES: Monster sex is not safe, these guys don’t use aftercare or safe words! But it’s ultimately healthy, careful, and gives both characters something they need. References to Armand’ s past are fine, but please no flashbacks"

--

Armand/Lestat de Lioncourt "Can include Marius if so desired.

"Everyone knows that Marius’ pick for a successor is the handsome young French aristocrat who arrived. Amadeo is fully prepared to hate him for taking Marius’ attention away from him. But as they start to spend more time together, he doesn’t know how to feel when he legitimately likes Lestat. Emotions made no easier when Marius ‘rewards’ Lestat with him, and instead of it being a painful experience, it’s the best in his life.

"Bonus points for Armand literally driven incoherent by pleasure."

--

Lestat de Lioncourt/Louis de Pointe du Lac Wedding Night, Threesome - M/M/M, Spitroasting, Extremely Dubious Consent, Mind Control, Blood Drinking

"Lestat/Louis and their dazed sailor third (dinner)

"On Louis’s first night of vampirism Lestat DOES get Louis the prettiest girl at the party.

"additional tags: mind control sex (of victim), consent not obtained from victim but he is delighted to explore his sexuality (before he dies), please make louis happy on his wedding night. optional: double penetration (lestat&sailor/louis), louis’s exhibitionism, somnophilia, necrophilia"

--

Claudia/Madeleine Celebrities, Forbidden Love, Awkward Crush, Power Imbalance

"Despite all the A-list celebrities ingratiating themselves with new rising hollywood actor Claudia, she only has eyes for her stylist, Madeleine. Her dads/managers Louis and Lestat worry it might be better to get Madeleine out of the picture before Claudia or Madeleine actually gets brave enough to flirt with the other successfully.

"Claudia's agent Armand isn't worried. He's determined.

"Five times Armand set Claudia up with a grasping A-lister and one time Claudia chose her own date. (grasping A-listers are, optionally, Eglee, Sam, Santiago, Celeste, and Basilic)"

--

Armand/Daniel Molloy Spanking, Whipping, Old Daniel Molloy, BDSM, Humiliation, Dom/sub, Mildly Dubious Consent, Submissive Armand

"KINKS: humiliation, impact play, spanking, paddles, floggers, etc. maybe bloodplay, maybe rough sex / up to author.

"PROMPT: Post 2x08. Daniel vaguely remembers the power that Armand held over him in the 1970s. He remembers the need for control. But he can’t believe he missed the other, opposite side. She was a creature who craved to surrender power. He wanted to submit. He looked a little sad and pathetic to Daniel after Louis walked out, but above all, he looked small. Daniel sees it now, this essential submissiveness of Armand, and he doesn’t care about making Armand happy, in this moment. But he does care about getting to flex some power, to humble the pride Armand showed throughout the interview, and to see the the cold, strong Armand forced to submit. Daniel knows he can crack him open. It will take humiliation, and pain, will it take some rough topping? Who knows?

"NOTES: Doesn’t need aftercare or safe words – these are monsters, they don’t need to have safe sex! Might involve some dub-con, but is ultimately healthy and careful with each other. References to Armand’s past are fine, but please no flashbacks"

--

"Daniel whump/ devils minion hurt/comfort (bringing this from my tumblr)

"Armand and Louis really think they are the only ones who see Daniel and go a full life right there I want it. I want to hear it and devour it.

"Plus while Daniel is an old man he's a bby vampire so there's still some of that Vampires desire youth thing mixed in. A group of vampires, older than Daniel for sure, decide well even actually Companions™ take breaks and take occasional lovers so surely it's cool, to mr. steal-your-man Daniel, who notably does not want to be stolen and he does fight back maybe injurers one of them.

"But ultimately the Dubai gang reunites because "Armand someone took Daniel." and Armand is like "okay time to wreck everything." Lestat meets Daniel during this and Daniel is actively working trying to escape because he's stubborn like that. Or Armand reach's out to Louis and is freaking out because "They took my Fledgling, they stole Daniel. They took my boy I will kill the world until he is returned."

"Take it as dead dove dark or as canon typical toxic with a side of genuine love and care as you want."

--

Armand/Daniel Molloy, Armand/Marius de Romanus

"Armand doesn’t know how to tell Marius he’s pregnant with his one night stand Daniel’s baby."

[thedemonofcat]

Due to the rarity of mermaid sightings, they are frequently dismissed as nonexistent. Hence, when Geralt encountered Jaskier, he presumed that the bard was a partial elf. Unbeknownst to Geralt, Jaskier harbored a hidden truth—he was actually a half-mermaid, capable of transitioning between a merman and a human form.

Following Geralt's outburst on the mountain, Jaskier found himself overcome with heartbreak, leading him to make a life-altering decision. He chose to forsake his existence as a human bard and return to the embrace of the sea.

Initially, Jaskier relished the exhilaration of swimming freely in the sea, unburdened by the concerns of the world. He reveled in the joy of singing and gliding through the water. However, one fateful day, Jaskier's carefree existence took an unexpected turn when he found himself ensnared in a net. Unbeknownst to him, he had inadvertently strayed into the path of a pirate ship. Determined to escape, Jaskier attempted to revert to his human form, hoping to deceive the pirates into releasing him. To his dismay, he discovered that the pirates had already witnessed his transformation, leaving him exposed as a merman.

Due to the exceptional rarity of mermaids, particularly male ones, sailors widely regarded them as incredibly fortunate creatures. Consequently, upon discovering Jaskier's true nature, the captain of the ship recognized the potential for extraordinary luck and made the decision to retain Jaskier on board permanently, considering him a harbinger of good fortune

In order to prevent Jaskier from escaping, the pirates secured a chain around his ankle, fastening the other end to the ship's deck. This restricted Jaskier's movement, allowing him only a limited range to walk. Although not intentionally cruel, the pirates regarded Jaskier as a peculiar creature and treated him with a mixture of curiosity and detachment, akin to how one might treat a pet.

Jaskier resided on the ship for several months, enduring his captivity until one fateful night when the pirates made the ill-fated decision to launch an attack on another vessel. Unbeknownst to them, this particular ship carried a certain Witcher and his daughter. In a twist of fate, Geralt and Jaskier found themselves reunited once again amidst the chaos and turmoil of the pirate encounter.

Geralt wasted no time in liberating Jaskier from the clutches of the pirates, but the bard suffered an injury during their daring escape. Initially, an air of awkwardness enveloped Geralt and Jaskier as they found themselves reunited once more. Geralt couldn't help but feel a tinge of annoyance at having to save Jaskier yet again. However, aboard the ship they now shared, it was the captain who first discerned Jaskier's true nature, unraveling the secret of his half-mermaid lineage. This revelation came as a surprise to Geralt, who hadn't been aware of Jaskier's hidden heritage until that moment.

Despite Jaskier's initial intention to retreat to the water, wishing to avoid Geralt's potential blame for the world's troubles, his injury from the pirate escape rendered him too weak to shift back to his mermaid form. Consequently, Jaskier found himself trapped in his human guise aboard the ship, alongside Geralt and Ciri, who were en route to Skellige. With the journey projected to last for at least a couple more weeks, Jaskier remained stranded, unable to return to the sea and resigned to the company of Geralt and Ciri during their voyage.

Throughout the voyage, Jaskier and Ciri developed a remarkable camaraderie, with the young princess captivated by the presence of a real-life mermaid. Jaskier delighted in fulfilling Ciri's curiosity, regaling her with enchanting tales and melodious songs from the depths of the sea. However, as the journey neared its conclusion, a growing sense of concern enveloped Geralt. Throughout the entire voyage, he had wrestled with finding the right words to apologize to Jaskier, fully aware that if the bard were to return to the sea, their paths would likely never cross again.

One fateful night, an opportunity arose for Geralt and Jaskier to have a much-needed conversation. Geralt mustered the courage to inquire why Jaskier had never revealed his true identity as a mermaid. In response, Jaskier posed a poignant question of his own, questioning whether Geralt would have truly listened had he disclosed his secret. Geralt, acknowledging his shortcomings, candidly admitted that he had not been a good friend to Jaskier. The two delved into a heartfelt discussion, recounting the instances when Jaskier had earnestly tried to forge a strong friendship, only to have Geralt dismiss their bond at every opportunity. Geralt opened up, confessing that his fear of losing Jaskier had compelled him to push the bard away, even though he genuinely cherished their connection.

Geralt, filled with remorse, sincerely apologized for his outburst on the mountain, expressing regret for the hurtful words he had directed at Jaskier. In turn, Jaskier humbly apologized for the occasions when he had unintentionally gotten into trouble, requiring Geralt's rescue. As their heartfelt conversation drew to a close, Jaskier, now healed from his injury, mustered the courage to ask Geralt if he would like to witness his true form. Geralt, acknowledging the significance of the moment, agreed with a nod, and together they ventured into the water, ready to embrace the unveiling of Jaskier's mermaid self.

Witnessing Jaskier's transformation into a mermaid proved to be one of the most awe-inspiring moments in Geralt's lifetime. From the waist up, Jaskier retained his familiar appearance, albeit with a few additional gills now adorning his neck. However, below the waist, Jaskier's legs seamlessly merged into a resplendent iridescent tail, a mesmerizing fusion of breathtaking hues. Vibrant blues and greens danced with subtle hints of silver and purple, while the scales shimmered and reflected the light, creating a captivating spectacle. To Geralt, Jaskier was nothing short of exquisite in his mermaid form, a sight of undeniable beauty.

The pair lingered in the water for a while, indulging in the bliss of the moment. Jaskier relished the freedom to swim around, playfully splashing Geralt every now and then. Geralt, observing the bard's joy, couldn't help but be delighted by his companion's happiness. Eventually, Jaskier posed an intriguing question, asking Geralt if he believed in the notion that mermaids were inherently lucky, as the pirates had believed. Geralt expressed his appreciation for having met Jaskier, acknowledging the serendipity of their encounter. However, he found it difficult to fathom an entire species being intrinsically lucky. Curious, Jaskier offered an enlightening perspective, explaining that while mermaids themselves may not possess inherent luck, they possessed the extraordinary ability to bestow luck upon others through a single kiss.

Geralt and Jaskier's kiss was a profound and passionate moment, enveloped in the depths of their emotions. As they drew apart, their eyes locked in a shared revelation. Both Geralt and Jaskier confessed their deep love for one another, acknowledging the undeniable connection they had discovered. In a heartfelt plea, Geralt asked Jaskier to join him and Ciri on their travels once again. Overjoyed, Jaskier wholeheartedly agreed, eager to embark on new adventures together.

Returning to the ship, Geralt and Jaskier found solace in each other's embrace. Their passion and desire entwined, they surrendered to the intimate bond they shared. In the aftermath of their lovemaking, Geralt, with Jaskier nestled close beside him, couldn't resist asking about the mermaid's ability to bestow luck through a kiss. Jaskier, a mischievous twinkle in his eye, affirmed that indeed, it had been a stroke of incredible luck for him to have the opportunity to kiss Geralt. Witnessing Jaskier's playful grin, Geralt's heart swelled with an even deeper love for the bard.

[ashprince-of-bel-air]

Salutations my friends

Hi! I'm Ashl. I write bits of stuff and whatnot. My page is dedicated to all the things currently giving me brain rot so it will be an odd amalgamation of things, but most Baldur's Gate 3.

I've compiled a masterlist of writings because it's just starting to get hard to keep track of things really.....

Gale Dekarious:

Reading By Firelight - Gale watches Tav during their nightly ritual of reading by the campfire, yearning for them.

Caught In The Act - Gale watches you on an evening wondering what it is that your read every night, one day he finds out that you have been reading filthy smut.

Part One, Part Two, Part 3

Sunset Springs - You and Gale head of to the local springs at sunset, whereby you address the budding chemistry that is palpable between you two

Lovers Tragedy - Gale is goes to the netherbrain to follow Mystra's command, whilst the reader pleads for him to reconsider.

Gale Thoughts.

- Blackstaff Academy

Part one, Part Two: Gale Pov

Rolan

The Tiefling Wizard - You find Rolan, drunk and after Lorroakan has marked his face, you help him to your room and look after him

Part One, Part 1.5, Part 2, Part 3.

The Wizards Tower - The reader works at Sorcerers Sundries and helps to look after Rolan

Touch Starved Rolan - pretty much what the title says.

Part One, Part Two

Rolan finding our his human crush thinks she hates him.

Rolan apologising and making amends to his crush

Zevlor

Thoughts about Zevlor

Zevlor's Human S/O asking if she can worship his infernal traits

The Hellrider's Redemption -

Part one, Part Two

Buggy The Clown

Well I Guess I'm A Fool For You:

Part One, Part Two, Part 3, Part 4.

Sailors Folly:

Part One, Part Two, Part Three, Part Four.

Eddie Munson

One More Drink - Eddie is in his 40s, reader in their mid 20s. You meet Eddie at a dive bar in town after your date stood you up out of nowhere, you spend the night in Eddie's company until you end up nearly passed out drunk.

A Late Night Session - You were part of the Hellfire crew and had just finished your most recent campaign, Eddie invited you over for the night after the rest of the club had left.

Emperor Geta

Treasure - Geta saw you and wanted to make you his precious treasure, adoring your skin with paint so he could see if anybody touched you.

Part One, Part Two, Part Three, Part Four.

The Empress - You were just as bloodthirsty as Geta was, a delightful surprise to him

Part One, Part Two, Part Three

Thoughts on Geta taking his son to watch the games.

[yuimatsumatsuno]

im so sorry for req again pooks…. Ur writing skills r too cool fr… but theres this idea thats stuck in my head… (im the anon who req the little sister hcs)

may i req a hc of the osomatsu brothers finding out their younger sister is a magical girl? (think of madoka magica or sailor moon) I remember in the show, choromatsu said smthing abt magical girls and i was like “idea!”

(Also can i be 🥭 anon?)

WOAHH THIS IS SUCH A COOL IDEA !

don't worry, 🥭! I'm not against it at all. Of course you can, I think it's cute! thank you very much <3 also sorry if it didn’t turn out as you expected, this is my first time writing something like this..

matsuno siblings x Madician girl s/o

PLATONIC

TW//CW: ???

Osomatsu’s first reaction will be something like.. “..huh.. HUH.. WHAT-“ at first he will think that you are joking, but after he saw Ichimatsu-cat and was literally able to return from Hell, he really doubts . Once he has verified that it is true, he will be genuinely shocked and delighted. the first question he will ask is “so.. does that mean you.. like.. will transform into an anime girl in dresses and bows?” in fact, he is still in shock, having realized how little he knows about his younger siblings. but in fact, he is truly delighted. he would love to see you in a cute dress in the style of Sailor Moon or Madoka.

It’s impossible to explain in words how much Karamatsu admires you. Of course, at first he will deny that he just saw his little sister transform into a magical girl, but he will say something like

“✨✨✨heh.. our world is full of malice and injustice.. and I am happy to be the sensei of the protector of this ci-“

for which you will probably hit him on the head with a magic wand (or whatever you use) in the middle of his ballad.

so, are you going to look me in the eyes and then tell me that Choromatsu won't be crazy about you and won't be your number one fan? this guy is damn proud. he won't be able to believe that his little sister is the one he admired most in the anime. but if that happens, the first thing he'll probably do is faint or do a "SHHEEEEEEEE" pose. don’t be surprised if suddenly he starts begging you to see you in your magic dress.

Ichimatsu... somehow he doesn’t care? even if you are a real cruel witch, he still considers you a close person and favourite little sister. Of course he will be surprised, but doesn’t he himself have skeletons in his closet? Moreover, this guy in the dark alleys transforms into a cat, you are both in the same boat.

It's hard to tell what Jyushimatsu thinks. his first reaction would be cat eyes and a sleeve covering his mouth, his question would be “but can you still play baseball with me?” and if your answer satisfies him, he will return to his usual facial expression and continue to play with you as if nothing had happened. His reaction is the calmest, one might even say strange. The main thing for him is that you can still play with him and spend time.

Todomatsu is FUCKING surprised. It will take him several days to realize what he saw. but when he calms down, he will start crawling towards you, making cute eyes and acting like a cute big brother (don't trust that devil). Every time he sees you, he asks you to take a photo in your magical form so that he can show off you to beautiful girls. (HE'S FUCKING USING YOU, KICK THIS ASSHOLE'S ASS)