#but i also want to abandon him in the glowing sea

[aveirix]

i had a bad day today so i figured i'd destress by playing video games. so now instead of being stressed about life, i'm stressed about settlement building in fallout 4!

[jolalibrary]

you should be my only girl

joel miller x f!reader

gif credit to @perotovar

summary: in many ways, Joel is aware that you’re too good, too lovely. it has become the reason why he wants to give you nothing but pleasure, in the hope it’ll be enough to smother the pain he knows he must inflict.

word count: 1.6k warnings: smut in the back of a car from joel - cunnilingus, fingering. dedication: happy birthday to the wonderful @thetriumphantpanda - i hope joel remembering makes you smile. an: huge thank you to @swiftispunk for giving me the boost to post and to @perotovar for letting me use their beautiful gif, thank you so much!

You’re like a drug. 

More addicting than the little out-of-date off-white pills that douse pain, memories and more. Woven deep within him; infused inside his muscles and bones. 

One day, never there, and the next, you’re hacking away, cutting through him, digging out a space and sitting yourself inside it. Waiting, tapping—whispering like a siren until his resolve cracks and his palms are on either side of your face, kissing you gently. Far more gently than he assumes this new world allows, but he does so all the same. 

Because you’re treasure, a spot marked X that he found without a map. He had tried to fight falling for you, but here he is all the same—having jumped and found he hadn’t met an untimely end. 

In many ways, Joel is aware that you’re too good, too lovely. You’re a heart of gold and a fist of fury; you’re dirt-covered, scarlet-soaked, yet you’re also the brightest, shiniest thing he’s had in a long time. 

Your tongue may be laced with poison, your exterior hardened with the current times, but he sees the embers of the person that once was. The one that appears when the sun sets and rain peppers against the glass of his place. 

You see him, and he sees you. 

The loss you both carry suddenly lightened, one of them lifting it for the other on the more challenging days. No questions asked, just a nod, an understanding. 

Most mornings, when he wakes and your arm is around his waist, Joel has to pinch himself. His hand sliding over yours, fingers tracing your knuckles—doing an array of shapes until he hears your breathing change. It’s only ever then that he turns to face you, to watch in wonder as your lashes flutter and bask him in sunlight and care. 

Today, Joel finds he has to pinch himself differently when he has you like this. The truck door yanked open, you placing yourself on the backseat of it. The vehicle itself is all covered in wilted vines and decades of dust, not that either of you care. You’re atop cracked leather, engulfed in fusty air that’s desperate to escape and be renewed, but you just look at him dutifully. 

Having followed his instruction, his whisper as the two of you admired your handiworks. 

In general, you make him soft, but you also make him hard. The latter more present currently as his hands spread your thighs, hooking around them to pull you to the edge of the seat—perched, waiting, core glistening with want as your jeans remain abandoned at his feet. His finger brushes over the little thin fabric stretched beyond belief at your ankles—the sun's glow piercing through the dirt-covered sunroom, casting you in enough of a sheen to highlight the muck and sweat on your collarbone and forehead. 

But you’re still a vision. 

It’s why he likes having you like this, lay out for him—all prettiness in a sea of ruin. 

Words that are so similar fall easily from his mouth before he licks a stripe. 

Usually, he’d take his time and earn himself a couple of O’s before he cashes in on his own. Today, he’s more satisfied with this, giving you your reward, giving you all he has in him as his muscles groan from fighting.  

You seem to appreciate it. Purposefully arching your hips into his mouth, his tongue sliding deeper. Joel feels your walls tighten as he tries to go deeper—as he tries to bury himself inside of you, in the same way you have him. 

Then, it’s his turn to moan. Your fingers knotting in his hair, a feeling he relishes, yearns for as your nails scrape against his scalp. 

It wasn’t always like this with you. The two of you barely let the other in on anything outside the four walls the two of you had made liveable. It took time, weeks, months, half a year before things moved from being the right person at the right time, to just needing the other  

Now, he knows you’re his, and he is yours. It’s about as committed as things go when structure and normalcy have withered to dust. 

All he knows is he cares. It thrums, hammers against his bones when his voice couldn’t shout in time—watching in pained horror as your body was speared to the floor. His own fight began, unable to get to you, the back of his mind screaming, drumming its fists against his skull as a jaw cracked, and the butt of his gun met an oesophagus. 

His breathing laboured, difficult—strained. Catching a glimpse between his brawl to see you get the upper hand on the raider twice your size. Your body thrown behind your fist, the sound reverbing through the air as Joel smirked to himself. 

It grew larger when he heard the knife sink into the person’s spluttered hisses, coating your thighs in ichor, staining them cherry-red. 

He’d thought of nothing more than the mattress at the QZ—of his hand softly sliding your trousers from your skin. How he likes to kiss the pulse of your neck and feel your hands grasp his side. He imagined sinking his cock into you, inch by inch—the thought of your legs around him, breasts spilling out as he sliced you free from all the constraints that hid you from him. 

It’s those thoughts as to why he hadn’t been able to wait. A need to remind himself of how alive you are, to hear it, see it, taste it. 

It’s why he had you moaning—a sinful sound that almost reminds him of music. Your fingers splayed over the back of the seat, swiping dust away with your hopelessness as he continues to lap at your folds, keeping your legs parted with his hands as his thumb (he suspects and rather hopes) bruises your skin, leaving reminders. 

Joel likes the evidence that he touched heaven and left a mark that couldn’t be so easily wiped. That it proves you’ve chosen him, because he knows he’s done things, horrid things. 

Grief had spread its tendrils through him the same way the rot had ripped through cities. You hadn’t cared, not when you met or after. You never asked a thing—never wanted more than he could give. 

It’s why he liked you, why he felt seen. 

Boring your eyes into him, making him feel seen. Making him feel protective—awakening a dormant creature that’s now becoming a feral monster. 

It became the reason why he wanted to give you nothing but pleasure, in the hope it’ll be enough to smother the pain he knows he must inflict. Because he cares, but not in the way you deserve. He won’t find a flower on the walk through a once-thriving city and pluck it for you; he won’t dance with you if music ever reaches their ears.

But you deserve that. A different life robbed from you, a happy ever after ripped from grip, even more so the moment you chose him. 

It’s why he digs his hands into the back of your thighs, pulling you closer as he flattens his tongue against your core. Giving you something he can provide with ease, pleasure, care, comfort. 

You moan at it. All punchy, full of hoarseness as his name joins it. A particularly needier yank of his hair accompanies it as he swirls the tip of his tongue over your swollen nub, before he latches his mouth back over you. Not wanting to leave you on the edge, because Joel never does. His fingers slide into your fluttering hole, feeling your hips buck, watching your eyes clench shut. 

Because giving is practically all he has to offer. 

He knows how your body hums before your throat sings—the next moan spreading up from someplace deeper, born from depth, as it rips out of you and sprays itself around the truck as he smirks. 

He can’t help it. 

You’re everything: a goddess, a work of art, his. 

You’re his. 

It surges him on, devouring you, lapping up everything you’ll give him as his cheeks flush with warmth and his zipper cuts into his hardened cock. 

Because you’re so close. He can feel it, hear it, taste it. 

It rushes through you, snapping and crashing—all Joel, fuck and a sea of other noises he craves. 

He doesn’t stop, not immediately. 

Whispering muted words against you as he makes his movements more gentle, easing you back to the present, your hips finding purchase back on the leather of the abandoned truck. His tongue moves from you before his fingers, mouth wrapping around his digits as you watch, hunger still simmering in the ocean of your eyes—chest rising and falling, beads of sweat falling down the swell of your jaw and neck. 

Joel doesn’t move from his position, not even as your breathing returns. The two of you eyeing up the other, him all the more tempted to tell you to move up so he can get in the back, too.

”Do I ask what that was for?” 

His lips slide into a smile, a foreign one—one that makes his cheeks crack from how long it’s been since he’s let it show—as his hand moves to his jeans, readjusting for comfort. 

“Happy birthday.” 

You blink, an array of emotions swirling in your deceptively deep eyes, before whispering: you remembered?

His hands help guide your underwear back up your legs, reaching down to get your jeans, shaking the ground from them. 

Only then does Joel realise something else is like a drug, too. That look. The one full of surprise, shock, and amazement, still present on your face. Placed there by him, a remembrance from him you never asked for, never demanded. Because of that, he craves putting that look on your face again. And again. 

Some part of him realising, before the rest of him, that’s how moving on begins, what really falling for someone looks like. 

But as he helps you out of the vehicle, holding the jeans for you to take—deciding he’ll deal with all of that another day. 

[a-case-of-attachment]

Okay, writing prompt if you're interested. LuciferXreader, making out in a pile of rubber ducks. It may be weird as hell, but also really cute and funny. AND!! Laughter is a healthy part of any relationship!

Yes I’m interested!!!!!!!!!

I hope this is what you’re after, it kind of got away from me and I spent way too long thinking about what all those little duckies could do.

Lucifer had a problem, one of his own making that was yellow and sometimes quacked, maybe barked, there was even ones that spoke backwards and in riddles. They came in all kinds of colours and did all sorts of things. He had a purple one that could teleport, a rainbow one that shot confetti out of its mouth when it was squeezed, he even had one that glowed in the dark and played lullaby’s. The point was that Lucifer had made a lot of rubber duckies over the years but he didn’t realise quite how many until he was looking for one specific duck.

“Where are you, you little piece of…” Lucifer grumbled, his words trailing off as he dived into another mountain of ducks, sending them tumbling down to join the rest that had spilled over the floor. He had been at this for a while now, sending his work room into chaos and all because Charlie had been telling Vaggie all about one she had seen him making when she was a child. She hadn’t asked him for it and Lucifer had honestly forgotten it existed until she had brought it up but she seemed so enamoured with it that Lucifer had decided there and then that he had to gift it to her as a reminder of happier times in her childhood. The only problem was that he couldn’t find the damned thing and he was quickly running out of patience.

“You alright there love?” Lucifers head jerks up and round at your amused voice, blinking dumbly at the sudden brightness of the room. Your leant against the door frame, eyebrows furrowed slightly but a teasing smile tugging up the corners of your mouth. You were a vision, a ray of sunshine through the grey cloud that had been steadily forming over him. “Yep! Everything’s fine. Hahaha. A oh kay. What erh, what are you doing here darling?” Lucifer laughed nervously, his cheeks heating up with embarrassment at being found in such a state.

He had abandoned his hat and jacket ages ago, his sleeves pushed up to his elbows and his gloves somewhere within the sea of ducks. Lucifer had unbuttoned his collar at some point, his bow tie pulled loose and hanging around his neck like a sad flat little snake. His face must be flushed by now and his hair that was once neat and styled probably looked more like a birds nest now, stick up in every direction and clinging to his forehead.

“Charlie called me. Seems someone has been ignoring her calls and texts for the past couple of hours and she wanted me to check in and make sure they hadn’t gotten so involved in a project they forgot to eat again. Clearly she was right to worry.” You gave him a pointed look, clearly expecting an answer for his current predicament. Bitting his lip Lucifer let his eyes sweep across the carnage that was his work room and the vast amount of ducks he still had to get through. He needed help or he was never going to get through all these, not any time soon anyway and who better to help him than you? He always wanted to spend more time with you and this would keep you in close proximity for quite some time. It was a win win in his books and he was damn sure going to take full advantage of it.

Groaning Lucifer let his shoulders slump and looked back to you, finding you in the exact same position you had been in before though your eyes had softened slightly now, worry starting to creep in at the edges. “I’m looking for a duck,” he stated, nodding slightly after he had spoken like it was that simple of an answer. “Oh really? Never would have guessed.” Lucifer glared at your sarcastic reply, huffing loudly and crossing his arms over his chest in an overly obvious display of indignation that you both knew was just for show. The gentle laughter his behaviour got him sounded sweet, even as you rolled your eyes and pushed away from the doorframe. He always liked the sound of your laughter, like music that soothed his soul and made his heart ache all at once.

“Alright your majesty, are we looking for one in particular or is this a know it when a see it situation?” You raised an eyebrow at him in question as you sank down onto one of the few spots of clear floor. “It’s made of crystal, has a really cute teeny tiny crown on its head.” You hummed at Lucifers words, your attention now firmly on the ducks that surrounded you. “And when did you last see it?” Lucifer winced at your question, tugging at his already loose collar and refusing to make eye contact with you when you glance in his direction. “I don’t know, maybe a couple of centuries ago. Charlie was about five or six at the time.” You made a weird choked off noise when he said centuries, Lucifer catching a glimpse of your hand slipping on the pile of ducks you had been looking at and sending a couple more tumbling to join the ones that Lucifer was already half buried under.

He offered you an apologetic smile and hopefully his best puppy dog eyes in an attempt to soften any sort of regret you might be feeling at having sat down to help him. It must have worked because you sighed heavily before rolling your shoulders back and sitting up straighter. “It’s fine, we’ll find it and when we do you are sooo going to make it up to me with back rubs and kisses.” Lucifer agreed readily, nodding his head and promising you that and a thousand things more. “Right! We are going to do this one duck at a time, sorting as we go. We will have four separate piles, one pile for the ones that are just rubber ducks with a unique paint job and another for the ones that do something useful.” Lucifer opens his mouth to protest because all his duckies are useful but a quick glance from you has him closing it before he can even get a sound out. “There will also be a pile for ones that do pointless things and another for the ones that are just plain dangerous.”

“They are not dangerous!” Lucifer insisted, snatching up a random duck and squeezing it to prove his point. There was a loud click followed by sound of metal grinding together and Lucifer looked down in horror as the barrel of a pistol slid out of the ducks now open mouth. “Hahaha, how did that get there?” Huffing you held your hand out expectantly and Lucifer reluctantly handed the traitorous thing over, making sure the postal was safely back in place first. Without a word you leant over and pushed a section of the ducks out of the way, clearing a patch on floor in front of you. The gun toting duck was place down gently, looking way too sweet and innocent for what it hid within.

You picked up one from next to you and held it out towards Lucifer. “What does this one do?” He squinted at the thing, turning his head slightly to the side as he tried to remember what this one did. It was yellow like most of them except this one had a red rimed beak that made it look like it had lipstick on. “Lipstick!” Lucifer shouted out triumphantly, his sudden outburst causing you to startle. “It’s lipstick, retro rouge if I’m not mistaken.” You turned the duck toward you, tilting your head quizzically as you squeezed at its sides. It’s beak parted as a stick of bright red lipstick emerged. “Huh,” you said, loosening your grip on the duck so the lipstick went back in before placing it on the floor a few inches away from the other duck. You picked up another, this one yellow with black spots and held it out towards him. “What about this one?”

This goes in for hours, one duck after another and though it would normally be a rather tedious Lucifer is having fun. Some of his duck creations really are bizarre, like the one that changes colour depending on the time of day in Hawaii or the one that screams whenever someone says pineapple. There are some good ones though, like the one that generates a personal forcefield that’s lasts up to an hour when placed on your head or the one that cleans your bath after you’ve used it. The useful pile was a lot smaller than the others though, the useless ones needing a whole corner of the room to themselves. You had even found one that said ‘I’m quackers about you’ in a squeaky voice when squeezed, a little heart shaped box of chocolates with Lucifers hat emblazoned on the front held between its wings.

Lucifer had refused to hand that one over, especially when he realised you intended to put it in the useless pile. A had sat there, cooing at the thing and stroking its head whilst you glared at him. So preoccupied with the duck Lucifer didn’t have time to prepare himself as you suddenly lunged across the space, hands grabbing for the sweet little ducky. The two of you had spent far too long rolling around the floor and tussling for the duck until finally you came to a stop, sprawled across Lucifer and the both of you breathing heavily. You were close, head hovering above his as you stared into one another’s eyes. All Lucifer would need to do is tip his head back and then he would be able to kiss you, one of his favourite things to do these days. His eyes dropped to your lips as your tongue snuck out to wet them, your teeth nipping at your bottom lip enticingly. Lucifer sucked in a deep breath, his hand flexing on your waist where it had ended up in your little play fight. Your head lowered slightly, eyes darting down to his lips then back to his eyes as if asking permission that you really didn’t need. From down by his hip there came a loud quack followed by ‘I’m quackers about you’ then another quack effectively bringing a sudden end to the tension growing between the two of you.

The two of you dissolved into laughter, Lucifer wrapping his arms around your middle as you buried your face in his neck. You lead there for a while, laughing softly until that trailed off and the two of you when just lead there, holding one another and surrounded by ducks. It had been nice if a little weird but Lucifer wasn’t complaining. “It’s true you know,” he said softly, not wanting to ruin the moment but his words had you shifting, pushing yourself up slightly so you could look down at him with confusion. “What is?” Your voice was just as soft as you spoke, the hushed tone adding to the intimacy of the moment. Sighing Lucifer reached up, cupping your check and rubbing his thumb gently across it. “I really and quackers about you,” he deadpanned.

The stunned silence that hangs between you goes on a lot longer than Lucifer thought it would and despite how hard he tries he can’t help the large smile that spreads across his face or the laugher that comes bubbling out. Groaning loudly you finished pushing yourself up into a sitting position, shoving Lucifer back down when he tried to follow. “You’re terrible,”you mumble, shifting back over slightly to avoid nocking into a stack of ducks. Lucifers still chucking when he sits back up, effortlessly catching the rubber duck you half heartedly throw at him. “Mmmm, and yet you still love me.” Lucifer wiggled an eyebrow at you, leaning in slightly to emphasise the ridiculousness of the gesture. This time it was you who couldn’t help but smile, huffing in amusement and shaking your head at him. “Yeah, I do.” Lucifer beamed like the cat who go the cream at your words, always feeling like his heart could take flight every time you told him you loved him. Truly a bizarre phenomenon that would need much more research done into it, requiring you to tell him often and in multiple ways how you felt about him. “Now come on, this bloody duck isn’t going to find its self.” Lucifer took the duck you held out to him, a hot pink one with a flame branded on its chest, and quickly lent forward to place a kiss on the back of your hand before he started telling you all about the duck and how it could be set on fire and wouldn’t melt.

That had been a good few hours ago though and night had settled heavy over the city since then. Over half the room had been cleared now, Lucifer having opened a portal and dumped all the colourful, boringly normal ducks onto a sleeping radio demon to create some extra space for you both. There was still no sign of the duck he was after though and the both of you were clearly tired, the process having slowed down considerably in the last half an hour or so. He’s beginning to think it’s a lost cause, the duck long since lost or broken.

You yawn loudly, arms stretching out above you before you fall back into the heap of ducks behind you. The groan you make sounds almost painful as you wiggle in an attempt to make yourself more comfortable amongst the ducks. Your eyes close, hands disappearing into the sea of yellow above you. Despite how horribly uncomfortable it must be you look content and Lucifer wants nothing more in that moment than to crawl over there and join you, curling up against your side and resting his head on your chest so you can both get some much needed sleep. As much as he wanted to give into temptation Lucifer was determined to find the duck for Charlie, fixated on giving her that little moment of happiness and wonder that had stayed with her since childhood. That didn’t mean you had to suffer with him though.

“I think it’s time you were getting to bed darling, I can finish up in here.” Your eyes open slightly at his words, brows furrowed and your smile slipping into a frown. “Lucifer.” There was an odd tone to your voice, one that he probably should have paid more attention to but Lucifer assumed he knew what you were going to say so he kept on talking, turning away from you to continue looking through the ducks as he did so. “I know. I should be trying to get some sleep as well but you know I won’t be able to, (Lucifer), not till I’ve found this duck anyway and I really just want to surprise Charlie with it. She seemed so happy when she was talking to Vaggie about it and I just wanted to, (LUCIFER!)” Your loud cry of his name had Lucifer jumping, dropping the duck he had been holding to the floor with a loud splat as it oozed out like a marshmallow melting in the sun.

Laughing nervously Lucifer turns back to you, an apology already on the tip of his tongue but it quickly disappears when he sees what you’re holding. You’ve sat up, eyes fixed on your hand that you’re holding out towards him. In your palm sits a crystal duck, a small black crown sat atop its head styled similarly to Charlie’s own. Lucifer sucked in a breath, reaching out to take the thing from you with trembling fingers. He can’t believe you had found it, just when he was starting to lose hope. You truly must be heaven sent.

Without warning Lucifer lunged at you, flinging his arms around your neck and sending you sprawling back into the ducks with a yelp. “Thank you. Thank you. Thank you,” Lucifer said between peppering your face with kisses. “Lucifer,” you laugh, turning your head to the side and giving him access to your neck. He places a few more quick pecks along your neck and the top of your shoulder before placing one final one on your lips.

“She’s going to be so surprised,” Lucifer beamed, pushing himself back up and turning towards the door, a wide smile on his face as he stared down at the crystal duck clutched in his hand. He didn’t get more than two steps towards the door before fingers wrapped around his wrist and stopped him in his tracks. Frowning Lucifer looked back over his shoulder at you, finding you looking at him just as confused as he was you. “Where are you going?” Lucifer blinked down at you dumbly because surely that was obvious? “To give Charlie the duck?” It came out slow and sounding more like a question, Lucifer even holding up the duck in case you had forgotten.

Your confusion smoothed out into understanding, a small smile curling up the corner of your lips. “Lucifer,” you said almost teasingly, tugging gently on his wrist until he turned to face you fully. “It’s the middle of the night love. She’s going to be asleep, and even if she isn’t she’s probably going to be doing something she doesn’t want her dad walking in on.” You look at him pointedly, waiting for your words to sink in. “Oh…ohhhh,” lucifers eyes went wide, looking down at the little duck in a mix of horror and embarrassment.

You chuckle gently, tugging on his arm and causing him to take a step towards you. “So why don’t you,” you plucked the duck from his hand, leaning back to place it on top of the coffee table before turning back to him and wrapping your hands around his wrists, “come back here and finish giving me my reward hum?” You tugged him forward and down, Lucifer’s knees hitting the floor on either side of your waist with a dull thud. You used your hold on his wrists to lift his hands and place them on your shoulders before gripping his waist and pulling him down and closer until he was sat in your lap. Lucifer blushed, licking at his lips and swallowing slightly. “I eh, I can do that.” You hummed at his words, lifting one hand to cup his cheek and guiding his lips down to yours.

The first few kisses were soft and slow, Lucifer humming gently at the addictive feel of your lips moving against his. He sank into you, getting more comfortable on your lap and letting his arms drape over your shoulders. The two of you stayed like that for a few long minutes, Lucifer content to spend hours just like that but it seemed you had other ideas. Pulling back you nipped gently at his lip, Lucifer letting out a little whimper at the sudden sting. Resting your forehead against his you slid both your hands up his back, pressing him as close to you as he could get. “Hold on tight,” you mumbled, placing a kiss against his lips.

Lucifer barely had time to register what you had said before you were moving, effortlessly tipping him to the side and rolling him onto his back. He landed within the ducks with a dull thud, several of the stupid things tumbling down to land on his face. Your laughter was sweet as you helped remove the offending ducks off his face, leaving the ones that had fallen around his head and shoulders. “There you are handsome,” you smile as you remove the last one from his head, clearly delighting in the bush your words get you. “Your erh, looking rather radiant as well.” Lucifer cringes at his own awkward attempts at flirting, refusing to look at you because of how awfully that was. You would think he would have gotten better at this sort of thing over the centuries but there was something about you that just left him flustered and unable to say what he means when in your company. When you’re not around he can wax poetry about how your smile lights up the world like a sunbeam or how your eyes sparkle like the stars, but now? With you looking down at him like he’s your whole universe? Not happening.

You shift to the side slightly, slotting one of your legs between his and pressing up against him. “Only when you’re the one looking,” you whisper before pressing your lips against his, using his startled gasp as an opportunity to deepen the kiss. Lucifer moans softly, wrapping his arms around your neck and pulling you in closer. There’s a duck digging into his back and the sound of muffled quacking coming from somewhere above him as their movements caused another wave of ducks to fall down in them. It was ridiculous, kissing in a pile of ducks that were threatening to swallow the two of you up but Lucifer found he didn’t really care, especially when your tongue swiped across his lips, seeking permission that he readily gave. This here, this was the closest to heaven he had felt in eons and he was content to stay in this moment for eternity. Well at least till Charlie woke up anyway.

[katuschka]

Scene Three – My Lover's Hands Are Travelers

My Lover Does All These Things

Series Masterpost Masterlist Taglist

Jake Kiszka x f!Reader (1st person narrative)

2.165 words

My lover is a traveler. He’s seen the world, he’s ventured far. Now when he’s home, his hands don’t rest. When he whispers ‘you are mine’ they like to travel down my spine.   My lover’s hands are travelers. When they travel, they tell stories of dreams that fill his heart. I find comfort in those stories everytime we part.

Disclaimer: This is a work of fiction, intended for adult readers. Any resemblance to real persons is purely coincidental. Also, if you're under 18, go find some other entertainment elsewhere.

Warnings (are spoilers): tooth-rotting fluff, penetrative sex, oral sex (f!receiving), sweet, passionate and caring Jake, alcohol consumption, some hair pulling, otherwise nothing too crazy, as this should be a comfort read

As I was watching him sitting so peacefully in front of the fireplace, I couldn’t take my eyes off him. He was playing again, having abandoned the book he had previously read because he got some ideas again. And once again, he was turning them into sound waves that told stories about distant places he just came back from. Strumming and humming, playing and singing, while I listened and chopped onions and celery and carrots to feed my man.

And while his hands and mouth were on the mission to create yet another enchanting tune, I could tell his mind was residing somewhere else momentarily, his eyes gazing into the darkness outside the window. But I didn’t care, as my own mind was also wandering. The sun had already set and the warm glow from the fire and the kitchen lights transformed the room into a fairytale haven. Already cozy when we arrived during daylight, it was now a place I’d happily die in. I might as well be dead already, I thought to myself as I watched how the firelight created a red halo around his crouched form. It was otherworldly. Ethereal. The man was already both my heaven and hell. 

Jacob…a perfect name for both an angel and a demon. 

As if he just sensed what I was thinking, he turned around and smiled at me, and it almost sent me reeling. Jake’s side glances were definitely demonic. I smiled back sheepishly, thinking about all the devilish things he liked doing to me. 

I threw the veggies into the preheated pan as I let my mind travel back in time to the first fall we spent together. He still looked like a boy back then, making me fall for his bashful, toothy grin and indecent jokes. We clowned about in the fallen leaves and when I thought that I couldn’t laugh any more because my side already hurt quite terribly, he took my face gently in his hands and I suddenly stopped as my breath hitched. Back then, everytime our lips touched it felt like the first kiss. He played my heart like a drum. He never stopped, actually. 

I remember how he smelled of lavender soap and cotton, mixed with something that could only be described as a ‘young, virile male’. I remember how his lean biceps flexed when he was hovering above me, gazing right into my soul with his lips parted as if in awe. He was passionate, zealous, and a tad shy everytime I confessed how much he turned me on. We were infatuated, first ravenous and then blushing. Idiots in love. 

He was not that boy anymore. Over the years I watched him turn into a man that was no longer fazed by my demonstration of all the love I had for him. He was basking in it now, making me feel like a confident woman in return. We took this journey together, becoming who we are now, and my greatest wish is that we would grow old together, too. We would still be walking through the sea of fallen leaves, making them crunch beneath our feet or kicking them out of the way. It could be here, at home or wherever our fate would take us. I don’t care. 

But until then, I want to enjoy every minute of our time spent together with our current versions of ourselves. Right now I most enjoy sinking my teeth in his flesh when he pounds me into the mattress and his sweat drips down on my heated skin. 

Sometimes he’s gentle and patient. He cradles my love in his calloused hands tenderly, just like he cradles me in our bed when I had trouble falling asleep, wrapping his strong arms around me, keeping me warm. My Jake…

Such a pleasant feeling, when he buries his face in my hair and whispers that he loves me. My heart calms down and my overworked mind can finally rest. World’s troubles evaporate in the air permeated with the smell of his warm body. Sometimes I just drift off eventually, other times our kisses gradually get more heated, and we prolong the night by becoming one in the darkness until we’re both completely spent…

I closed my eyes, lost in the moment momentarily, before I stirred the fragrant roasted vegetables and added minced meat into the mix. 

I poured red wine over the sizzling meat in the stewpan, before I added some basil and oregano. The effect was immediate. The vapors filled my nostrils and made my stomach rumble. I refilled my glass too, and took a healthy gulp of the crimson liquid to chase the pleasantly dizzy feeling he sparked deep within me everytime he came back to me. Just like this time. He came back to me and my heart doubled in size once again, making it a bit hard to breathe. I was drunk in love. 

As I sipped my wine, I turned to watch him again, lost in the secret corners of my twisted mind, until his soft voice brought me from my reverie: “I think you should add water now, before you burn it.”

Cheeky bastard. But he was eight. Of course he was. 

He didn’t even stop plucking the strings when he berated me for my absent-mindedness. I did not see his face, but I swear I could hear him smiling. He knew…

I turned back to my task. I added tomatoes and water and stirred the mix again. 

The music suddenly stopped and I felt rather than heard his stealthy footsteps behind me. A slight shiver of anticipation ran through my body. It started somewhere between my shoulder blades and traveled down my spine, as well as through my limbs. Only he possesses the power to do that - to make me tremble with anticipation even before I can feel his physical presence on my skin. Even before he utters a single word. One look into his eyes turns my legs to jelly. Sometimes not even that. My lover approaches me like a cold wind, only to burn me with the torch he carries. I’m like a phoenix when he does that. Born again, and again, and again after hundreds of les petites morts. 

I played it cool. Seemingly focused on the task in front of me, I needed him to do more than that. He should try harder, to fight for his prize before he collects it. 

I took another sip of wine and stirred the stew when I felt his fingertips graze the skin under my right ear. He drew small patterns, simple ornaments, hieroglyphics with hidden messages. 

He does this pretty often, using his touch to tell me tales or to make me guess his momentary intentions. My body is yet another instrument, and he makes me sing about the things that haunt him. My body is like the plains of Nazca, gatekeeping the meaning that is created between the creator and the carrier. My skin is like a beach, where he writes stories in the sand at a low tide, only to be washed away and kept a secret later by the power of the Moon. Only the two of us know. And now he did it again. 

I love you.

I cherish you. 

I worship you. 

I need to fuck you…

As his fingers wandered lower and began their slow journey to the curve of my shoulder, he planted a soft kiss to the previously abandoned spot. I smiled softly. “Are you hungry?” I asked innocently. 

His fingers flexed and wrapped firmly around my forearms, as he hissed in my ear. “I’ve been starving.”

It was now time to let the bolognese simmer for a while. My Jake knew that very well. His approach was deliberate and well-timed. His palms slid down to my wrists. Yet another story. He let them travel to my hips and slid his fingers under the hem of my black sweatpants. Well, well, well, the plot thickened. My back collided with his bare chest as I reached behind me to grab a handful of his hair. He groaned when I pulled, and his teeth attacked my neck. Scratching, nibbling, biting. Oh, he was hungry, no doubt. Subconsciously, I reached for the pot lit to cover our future meal.

Turning me around, he pressed my back against the kitchen counter and pulled my pants down with one swift movement as he slid down on his knees in front of me. I stepped out of the bundle of fabric coiled around my ankles and he threw it aside before he stroked my calves.

“This,” he whispered as he kissed the skin below my navel…”is more delicious than ice cream.”

“And this…” He grabbed the underside of my left knee and lifted my leg, judging me to put my foot on his shoulder. “...this is when you scream.” He lunged forward and darted his tongue in between my fold without warning. He was right. I almost screamed. I dared to glance down to see him looking up at me intently, daring me to do what he loved so much. 

I did. Not to oblige, but because I wholeheartedly wanted to. He looked so sinful down there that it always ignited the wicked spark in me. I entangled my fingers in his hair and pulled him even closer to me. I watched as if in slow motion how his eyes rolled up.He turned to my willing servant, literally on his knees. He moaned and started lapping at me hungrily, and I dug my fingernails in the nape of his neck, making him groan again. It reverberated through my groin and sent shivers up my spine. 

He wasted no time, burying his face between my legs. I screamed again when his lips wrapped around my clit and he sucked it in, the tip of his tongue greeting the tip of my most precious spot gently. Jake knew how to ruin me. And he did it again, making the bubble deep inside my underbelly grow until he let it burst, lapping at me as if I was his personal fata morgana. 

I didn’t realize I was floating until I felt my feet hit the ground again and he stood up to kiss me, with my release still on his chin. So deliciously wicked! My fingers promptly set to work, unbuttoning his jeans as I helped him get free from the confines of the stiff denim. He turned me around again and entered me hastily. My walls were tight from the previous orgasm and it stung when he bottomed out. I didn’t mind. I needed that. I wanted that, as I both felt and heard him disintegrate behind me. 

I expected him to be rough, but instead he leaned on to me and wrapped his arms around me, holding me tight as if he was afraid I’d run away the moment he’d release me. How silly. I wanted the same thing. I wanted to melt into him. And if I pulled out a handful of his hair in the process, so be it.

I felt the same energy coming from him. The same urge, the same hunger. But even though his thrusts were passionate and frantic, his hands spoke a different language. “Your tits,” he breathed out shakily. “In the whole world, there’s no mountain peak more magnificent than this.” He pinched my nipple demonstratively as he kept on moaning those words. 

“Your cunt…” he panted. “No valley, no deep crevice hidden within virgin lands, with…” It was a whimper now... “...with crystal clear streams can compare to this.” He almost wailed after he finally finished the sentence. My own mind was floating around, too. I tilted my head back, resting it on his shoulder as he rubbed his cheek against mine like a cat. I was no longer aware of my body. He reduced me to a bundle of nerves that responded to every single movement of his own flesh. It was only him and the feeling that he made me feel. 

And so I felt his hands sliding back to my hips… “No meadows lush enough…to…compare…to…this!”

I held onto the counter frantically as the second wave hit me. I could feel myself tightening around him as his movements kept me spasming. That was it for him. His steady rhythm faltered, replaced by a series of jerky thrusts. I could feel his hot breath between my shoulderblades and it made me shiver one more time. He grabbed my hair and spilled the remaining drops of his seed inside me with one last thrust. 

Our knees gave way and we slid on the floor in a much more relaxed embrace just when the timer beeped, telling me I should add passata and a final pinch of salt. 

We laughed shakily, still trying to catch our breath. 

This was not infatuation lust.

No.

This was love-driven desire. 

Hunger. 

@thewritingbeforesunrise @fleet-of-fiction @writingcold @lvnterninthenight @its-interesting-van-kleep   @takenbythemadness   @edgingthedarkness @jazzyfigz @lyndz2names @peaceloveunitygvf @cheersdannyx2 @fleetingjake @lizzys-sunflower @hollyco @emojakekiszka @gvfmarge @Dayumclarizzel @lipstickittty @clownstarr @musicislove3389 @i-love-gvf @myownparadise96 @gvfstuddedmajesty @sanguinebats @gretasfallingsky @psychedelectable

[animatorweirdo]

The Fall of the Sun

The man you thought you knew is no more, replaced by an ancient evil. You have tried to adapt to your new life among the elves, but one attempted rescue becomes one of your biggest regrets.

(Author note: I was slightly inspired by Sunfyre and borrowed some stuff from the Rop show. Just to let you know, this does not follow the Rop storyline though some scenarios might sound familiar and I will not write anything for it other than the things I borrowed to make this fic. There will be a second part. I hope you enjoy this. )

Warnings: betrayal, mentions of Sauron, denial, nightmares, loneliness, homesickness, mentions of a volcanic eruption, dead relatives, calling yourself a fool, mentions of orc attacks, going missing, an ambush, some graphic descriptions of wounds, broken bones, falling, flickering consciousness, abandonment, and angst.

----------------------------------------------

The day has gone from once bright into great gloom. The man you thought you loved was never real, replaced by an ancient evil that should have perished before the dawn of the second age. The one you had befriended, lived, and traveled with for the past year was no more. You did not want to believe it but the reality began to settle in as you watched your elven friend, Rhiwlas, gather her people to hunt him down as he had left the city and there was possibly still time to capture him. 

Doubt still clouded your mind. How could the man with whom you had shared your secret, put your trust, and helped you raise Anorion be Sauron? The human man who loved to tease you yet also had one of the biggest smiles. None of it made sense to you. Was it all truly just a trick? 

You saw Rhiwlas look toward you with a heavy look, clearly noticing the discord within you. However, as there was no time for comforting words, she ordered her troops to follow and left the city to chase the man you thought you knew. 

You turned around and left the yard, feeling betrayed and alone. 

The echoing of waves woke you up. You jolted awake and found yourself on the raft where you first met him. However, this time you were all alone and the sea was still and calm, too calm to your liking. There was no wind. There were no ripples. This kind of serenity would have been ideal back then, but this time it only caused you to feel unnerving fear. 

You subconsciously gripped the bag on your hip before noticing something in the water.

It was a reflection. You leaned closer to see your shadow on the water’s surface, but then you saw another beside yours. Your heart began to pound against your chest when you saw the shadow become the shape of the man you knew, but this time his eyes were glowing with gold.  An arm suddenly plunged out of the water. You shrieked as the hand grabbed you and pulled you in the freezing water where you were then encased by the darkness. 

You gasp, waking up on your bed. Your eyes darted around the darkened room. The only light granting you comfort being the moonlight that basked you from the window above your bed. 

Tears threatened to fall from your eyes when you thought about the nightmare.

A small whine caught your attention. 

“Anorion” You mumbled as the small dragon stared at you with worry in his eyes. His tail whisked around your feet and his golden scales were illuminated by the moonlight. 

You released a sigh as you softly stroked the dragon's head. 

“I’m okay. We’re okay,” You tried to sound comforting, even though your words were the opposite of what you were truly feeling. 

Anorion rubbed his head against your palm with a soft purr. 

You chuckled. 

“You won’t suddenly turn into an ancient evil being, will you?” You joked, even though there was slight desperation in your voice. 

Anorion released a soft whine before crawling closer to you, pushing himself into your arms and nuzzling close to your chest. You chuckled and embraced the little creature, comforted that you were not alone in this awful predicament. 

Three years later. 

It has now been three years since you last saw him. You had taken refuge with the elves since you had nowhere else to go and the last of your relatives perished in the volcanic eruption. It took getting used to, especially when the elves still looked at you and whispered how you were the poor fool deceived by Sauron. The poor woman, who was betrayed from the very beginning. Your friend, Rhiwlas, defended you when Sauron’s identity was revealed since you were the last to know about it. She also convinced the High King Gil-Galad to allow residency for Anorion despite the elves’ history with dragons. 

Rhiwlas had taken it upon herself to hunt down Sauron after he managed to escape and go somewhere unknown. She did not take the treachery well thus she was away most of the time, bringing news whenever she returned. 

You felt alone, even though you managed to get along with the elves just fine. Being a human and the poor fool did not make it feel like a home. Your only companion was Anorion. 

Anorion had grown into a beautiful golden dragon. Thanks to his friendly nature, the elves warmed up to him and even began to praise his unique beauty. They had even made a few songs about him being ‘the golden son of the sun’ and ‘the most beautiful dragon ever known’

To you, he was that same sweet hatchling three years ago. You loved him like he was your own child. 

And since he had grown big enough to carry you, you started flying the skies on his back. It was a privilege reserved only for you and flying through the sky helped you feel relieved from the troubles of the world. 

During these flights, you could not help but miss him. You did not deny that you yearned for his presence. However, it helped you return to reality when you remembered that the man you knew was never real, only a projection of a deceiver who deceived you for reasons unknown. 

You both hated and felt saddened by the thought of him, so when Rhiwlas returned to share news. You mostly avoided talking about him. 

Unfortunately, this time he would become the cause for your next misfortune… 

“There had been sightings of orcs in a hidden alley near the Misty mountains. We believe Sauron might be gathering troops there,” Rhiwlas started while you were having tea. You were quiet, silently thinking about him gathering orcs to form an army. 

“I’m going to take a few men and go investigate. Hopefully, capture him at the same time,” Rhiwlas explained while you stirred the tea.  

“Isn’t that big too of a risk?” You broke your silence. 

“These orcs are not to be underestimated,” You remembered how they destroyed the last home you ever had with the volcano eruption. 

“That is a risk. We must take,” Rhiwlas said. “For the sake of Middle Earth’s future and its people,” she added. 

“Last time, the orcs caused a volcano to erupt and killed the last of my relatives,” You stated.  

“This will not be like that time,” Rhiwlas replied. 

“Do you even have a plan of capturing him if he’s there?” You asked skeptically. 

“We must first confirm he’s there. We are to scout them and see what they are up to,” She answered. 

“I still do not think you should go there,” You said. 

“I will be fine. I am one of High King Gil-Galad’s finest captains,” Rhiwlas said, certain of her abilities and chances of returning. 

“When are you gonna come back?” You asked. 

“It should not take long. Perhaps three days at best,” She said. 

You fell quiet again, thinking about the whole scouting mission. 

“You are oddly more quiet today,” Rhiwlas had a small frown on her face as she stared at you. 

“Nothing much to say,” You answered, staring at the tea in your cup. 

“Is anyone giving you… troubles? You can tell me if someone is,” Rhiwlas questioned.  

“No one is giving me trouble. It’s just as usual homesickness. “ You answered, slightly frustrated. “Being a human and living among elves can get… a bit tiring,” you added. 

“Well… you staying here is for your own safety. Sauron hid this secret from you from the beginning and who knows what kind of twisted plans he could have for you if you and Anorion were to meet him again,” Rhiwlas explained. 

“I know that…” You uttered. “I just think it would be nice to be somewhere else for once than here all the time,” 

“It is for your own good. Perhaps… you could offer your assistance to High King Gil-Galad. I’m sure he would have something for you and Anorion to do. Having a dragon has its advantages,” She suggested. 

“And to do what? Join the fight against Sauron?” you questioned. “Anorion has no fighting experience and I would rather not serve someone who looks at me like everyone else,” You added. 

“Look at you like how?” Rhiwlas frowned at your statement. 

“Like I’m the poor fool who was deceived by Sauron,” You uttered.

“It’s been three years yet some still question me about it and pity me for it,” 

“I’m... sure they will stop once Sauron is defeated. “ Rhiwlas said even though there was a hint of uncertainty in her voice.  

“I doubt it,” You mumbled. 

The tea talk ended there, but you decided to come see them off at the main gate. While preparing to leave, Rhiwlas came to you. 

“(Name). I’ve been thinking. Perhaps once I return. I could take you to visit another city. There are more humans and dwarves alike. “ She suggested. 

You thought about it for a second. The idea appealed to you, and you had been wanting to spend some time with her— to forget Sauron and the brewing darkness. “I guess I would like that,” You nodded and Rhiwlas nodded in return with a smile. You then bid her and her company good luck as they left Lindon. 

Usually, you had faith in Rhiwlas’s abilities and that she would return with nothing as usual. This time, you were eager and slightly anxious to wait for her. However, when the third day came to pass, there was no sign of her or her company.  You thought something was wrong but then decided something was simply delaying her. 

However, when the second day passed and there was still no sign of her, you began to get worried.  You inquired High King Gil-Galad about her return. He had no answers as she hadn't sent any word about her mission or situation.

When the third day passed, you began to believe something had happened to her and her company. She would never take six days to finish some kind of task. 

You pleaded with High King Gil-Galad to send someone to look for her or at least see what had become of her. He couldn't grant your wish as his hands were tied keeping his city defended from the latest orc attacks. Seeing no other options, you decided to go yourself. 

You flew across the city on Anorion and then toward the valley she mentioned to you. Anorion was faster than any horse so you managed to get there and finally see what had happened to Rhiwlas and her company. 

At first, you did not see anything as you flew above the mountain hills, but then you saw Rhiwlas and her company running out of the caves, chased by orcs. You commanded Anorion to help and the sight of the dragon managed to scare the orcs off, but then you were ambushed in the air by a large flying beast. 

You could only guess it was a Fell beast as you had read about them before. 

Anorion tried fending the Fell beast off with fire, but the beast was quicker and forced you and Anorion into close combat. 

As Anorion had no experience in such combat, the Fell beast easily wounded him. It tore a deep gash wound on Anorion’s chest, causing him and you to fall toward the ground. Luckily, Anorion was able to regain his flight just when you were about to hit the ground, bleeding upon the orcs below who came to see the commotion. 

His cries of pain were like daggers into your heart and you considered ordering him quickly to flee as you could not see Rhiwlas and her company, but then you were ambushed by another Fell beast that nearly bit you out of your saddle. 

Anorion struggled against the two Fell beasts, breathing fire upon them and trying to protect you. It was nearly impossible to keep him, so you desperately searched for Rhiwlas. 

Anorion managed to breathe fire upon one of the Fell beasts' faces, causing the creature to go blind and release you. You were given some breathing time and evaded the other Fell beast. 

You saw Rhiwlas and her company getting away in the woods, letting you know it was time to leave and escape the fight. However, you failed to notice the orcs setting up a catapult and firing a large boulder toward you. It was a calculated shot as you noticed it last minute before the boulder struck Anorion in the wing, causing his bones to break and scream in pain. As his wing was now broken you were plummeting toward the ground. 

You were falling back first toward the ground. Anorion was shrieking and crying as he desperately tried to regain his flight. Your heart was pounding between your ears as you prepared to get crushed by the fall. Anorion turned around to face his belly toward the ground when the trees came closer and you lost consciousness upon impact. 

The last thing you remember is your consciousness flickering between light and darkness as you lay on the ground beside Anorion. Your mind was numb as you could not move your limbs. You saw Rhiwlas and her company members running toward you from the forest. You remember crying in pain when they turned you on your back, as it felt like thousands of knives were embedded in your back. They told you how too injured you were and that they could not help Anorion. 

You wanted to protest as you could hear Anorion’s deep breaths, meaning he was still alive. There was no way you would agree to abandon him at the mercy of orcs. You muttered in desperation as they attached you to a makeshift stretcher that they could pull through the forest and watched as Anorion became farther and farther away from your reach, abandoned in the darkness before you lost consciousness. 

You did not know what happened next, but the next time you woke up, you were told you were in Eregion and how severe your injuries were. Eregion was closest, so Rhiwlas and her company brought you there to heal. Rhiwlas allowed her company to return to Lindon, but she stayed until you woke up. Apparently, you had been in a coma for five days since the incident and many of your bones were shattered by the fall which would make walking impossible for you for the time being. You believed her as lying on the bed felt agonizing without medicine to numb the pain. 

When you became conscious enough, you finally asked Rhiwlas what became of Anorion. Her expression was silent and filled with guilt. She explained it was too risky to return to the alley, and that there was a high chance the orcs had taken Anorion as a slave, or slayed him as he was injured. 

You pleaded with her to check if he was even alive, but she continued saying the same about how risky it was and that she could not endanger lives to save one dragon, especially one who could already be dead. 

Anguish filled you from within as you thought of Anorion. Upon that bed, unable to move, you grieved your sweet dragon and despaired if you had even made the right decision at all, the decision that brought death to your beloved child.

[grandlinedreams]

Hii !!! If you haven't done it already , can you make a part 2 to https://www.tumblr.com/grandlinedreams/732931737043255296/hehe-hi-lovelov-luvvv-the-angst-u-write-could (sorry I can't create hyperlinks due to my pc crashing everytime I try !) ? I loved it so much that I neeedddd a 2nd part that's just as angstyyyyy. I love your angst so much !!

Hiya!! I absolutely can, but i also got asked to resolve it well so I hope I can do this justice for everyone who wanted a part two! First part [here]

[Heads up!: canon typical violence, hefty dose of angst, hurt/comfort]

It's been a week since you bargained your freedom for Law's, offered your services to barter for his safety ㅡ and you still don't regret it.

The ship you've been forced onto is a far cry from the comforts of the Polar Tang with battered wooden floors and a hull that you're surprised withstands the waves that crash against it.

The crew also is nothing like the one you're used to ㅡ not that you see much of them. You spend most of your time at a desk with varying maps spread out before you, pen in hand as you're demanded to make note of any and all locations to treasure or anything of interest regarding the One Piece.

"If I find out you're lying, or if any of this is a trap," your captor hisses, pressing the sharp edge of a blade to your throat, "don't think I won't slit your throat and throw you overboard for the sea kings."

You don't bat an eye, even as metal bites into your skin, the warm drip of blood that follows. "I don't doubt it."

Your captor ㅡ Hendle, or whatever he'd said his name was ㅡ glares at you, clearly unhappy that he hadn't gotten the reaction he wanted. "I'll have someone drop food off. Don't even think of looking for an escape."

And then he's gone, leaving you with only maps and the guttering glow of an oil lamp for company. You reach out with the clink of the ever present seaprism stone cuffs, trace a narrow line of ink towards a place you've circled, tapping it thoughtfully.

Though it's a long shot and requires a heap of hope, if you can somehow leave a clue or evidence behind, if Law is tracking you (which you have no doubts he is, Trafalgar Law is a lot of things but one to abandon crewmates is not one of them), he can find it.

You bite your lip. It's a stretch and it'll have to be something both subtle and obvious enough to be from you ㅡ but you can at least try.

ㅡ

Though you're also a pirate, helping these kinds of pirates makes you feel slimy as you watch yet another chest of glittering gold and jewels be pried from its hiding spot and hauled back towards the ship.

"You've got an eye for treasure," Hendle tells you, eyes you in a way that makes your skin crawl and your fingers twitch with the urge to ball into fists. "I could get used to having you as part of my crew."

Anger flares. "I'm already part of a crew," you tell him flatly. "And it isn't yours."

The fist that connects with your jaw is expected given that the other times you've spoken out it's been met with swift violence, but the ring on his finger catches on skin, splitting it open.

"They're not going to rescue you," he growls, fury clear in his tone. "The sooner you understand that, the better."

And then he stalks off, leaving you alone. He clearly thinks you'll follow and while the idea of bolting is tempting, you know you're not going to make it far.

Blood drips slowly down your cheek, and you bring your hands up with the rattle of chain that's become frustratingly familiar. Swiping a finger against your skin, you stare at the tacky red, debating.

You can't ask for a pen, have no way of leaving proof you were here that won't disappear otherwise or be overtly obvious ㅡ this will have to do.

ㅡ

And so it goes ㅡ with every island that you end up on, you find some way to leave proof of your presence and hope that it's enough to point the right way.

If Law is even looking for you. You want to believe that he is, but what if he isn't? Logic is cruel ㅡ that he's wasting more resources than necessary to come after you. That he should cut his losses and move on.

It's a cold knife thrust between your ribs and up into your heart, piercing with the ache and fear that this is your life now, days measured by how useful you are.

What happens when you stop being of use? After all, there's only so many places you know of, and only so long you can get away with lying about information pertaining to the One Piece. Hendle is bound to figure it out sooner rather than later.

You stare at your wrists, the rubbed raw quality where the stone has chafed, the slow sap of any and all energy you manage to find by sleeping. And even when you do sleep, it's far from well ㅡ worries and fears follow you into dreamland, torment you with what could happen.

And what would have happened if you'd never done any of this in the first place. You've lost count or how many dreams you've been wrenched out of with a gasp, cold sweat beading on your forehead as you tried to push away the images of Law being killed in front of you, of feeling helpless to save him.

This, you decide, is far better than that.

ㅡ

This is the last island you've been able to mark on the map. Hendle has said nothing to you about what he plans to do with you, but you can assume it's nothing good.

Which is why you keep your eyes trained on him and the men that follow him, waiting until their attention is elsewhere ㅡ and then you bolt.

You know you're unlikely to make it far, but it's worth the way you can hear shouting behind you as you run as fast as your legs can carry you.

The chain clinks as you gasp for air, acutely aware of the burn of your muscles and ache of your body ㅡ but you keep going. You have to. Whether Law rescues you or not, you can't stand the idea of being around those thugs for another minute.

You'd rather die.

Something sharp bites into the meat of your left shoulder, makes you stumble and nearly topple before you correct your balance and keep going. Warmth leaks down your arm, white-hot pain that you use to ground yourself.

You can't defend yourself, best bet being that of running into someone who will be kind enough to help ㅡ and if you can make it that far in the first place.

You want to go home. You want the warm metal walls of the Polar Tang and the hum of machinery, the dumb jokes and silly arguments ㅡ you want your family. You want ㅡ

"Room."

Law.

"Shambles."

Your feet aren't kicking up dirt and pebbles anymore, the brief jolt jostling your shoulder and making you hiss as your legs give out.

You don't fall, though ㅡ familiar hands catch you, familiar tattoos ㅡ Law. He's here, he's real ㅡ he came to rescue you.

"You made it," you say softly as he picks you up, mindful of the way your shoulder is still bleeding. "You're late, though."

"I know." Law's lips press to your temple, and he closes his eyes as you lean into the touch. "I'm sorry."

[koji-haru]

Swap AU Part: 11

[I think I died today, but I revived just in time to update this.]

Sera knew she shouldn’t rush them. The humans, after all, need time; the time to explore and discover the garden, and the time to grow and learn about one another. That was fine, some things simply needed time, and Sera was a patient angel. However, it had been a little over three years since both Adam and Lilith were created into the garden, and still, there were only two humans in the garden with no sign of a third one being made. Somewhere along the line, things seemed to have stagnated, and she couldn’t help but be a little concerned. Normally, she would simply ask Lucifer for any important updates, his job was to care for garden and its residents after all, however, the little playful angel seemed to have become unavailable as of late, and whenever she did finally get a hold of him, his answers were always the same: “Oh, they’re getting along great! They just like to take their time. There’s still so much for them to learn after all!”

It wasn’t like Sera didn’t trust Lucifer, but she knew he could get a little…distracted at times, and could’ve missed some details. And so she asked the other angel she knew that also visited the garden, Michael. And much to her delight, Michael apparently sometimes helped his brother around the garden. Sera knew that Michael was a pretty meticulous angel, so she found it a little odd when he essentially said the same thing as Lucifer when she asked about the humans in the garden. Of course it was good to hear that the humans were getting along just fine, however, if everything had been going as smoothly as the two brothers claimed, then what was the hold up? How come humanity hasn't multiplied yet? And so, while it was not in her intention to distrust the words of her fellow angels, Sera had decided to visit the garden herself; to seek answers to her own curiosity that others couldn’t seem to satisfy. 

“How dare you taint the first man!” 

The cold echo of Sera’s voice rang throughout the beach as she flew down from the skies and towards the two culprits by the shore, who in turn turned to her, frozen still by the harsh coldness of her presence. 

Eventually, Michael appeared to have been unfrozen from the shock of being caught, hiding the fist man behind him as he decided to face Sera. 

“Sera, calm down, I–,” What could he say? He had been caught, there was no denying what he had done. 

Sera stood in front of the two, towering over them both, her usual amiable demeanour absent. “Adam, come over here.”

Adam flinched as the high seraphim’s freezing tone washed over him. He had never been subjected to an angel’s wrath before, and feeling it now, he knew it was something he would never want to experience again. The urge to simply obey and avoid worsening things was strong as fear gripped his beating heart. But instead, Adam simply hid further behind his angel, holding one of his hands for comfort. Despite the fear, he simply couldn’t do it, he couldn’t abandon Michael to save himself.

“He doesn’t want to, Sera,” Michael said as he squeezed Adam’s hand behind him and unfurled his wings, shielding the first man away from the high seraphim’s cold anger. “Please calm down, you’re scaring him.”

Though, despite Michael’s attempt at placating Sera’s ire, the high seraphim only appeared to glow even blindingly brighter, her six large wings spread wide and tall behind her as her anger increased instead. She lets out a disgusted scoff, “You’ve really truly corrupted him.”

Near the tree line by the beach, Lucifer and Lilith walked hand in hand, looking for Adam. They had decided to bring him along with them to play, especially since he had been rather solitary in the last few days. They knew they had wronged him before, and so, this time, they were going to do better. 

Noises by the beach caught both of their attention. It wasn’t just the sound of the gently rolling waves or the sea birds' loud calls, no, it sounded like two people talking loudly, or more specifically, it sounded like conflict. Lucifer, ever the curious one, flitted towards the edge of the tree line, peeking out to look for the source of the sound, with Lilith quickly trailing behind him. His eyes scanned the wide, flat landscape of the beach until it landed on two, no, three figures standing by the beach, Michael and Sera, who both had their wings stretched wide open, and Adam, who appeared to be cowering behind Michael. 

“What’s happening?,” Lilith whispered beside him. “I thought Michael stopped visiting.”

Lucifer looked on wordlessly. He also had no idea what was happening. Normally, it was him being scolded by Sera. His brother, ever the dutiful angel, always got along well enough with the high seraphim. So this sight in front of him was a baffling one for sure. And how was Adam involved in this? 

Suddenly, Sera approached closer to Michael, harshly grabbing his arm, though he remained steady on his spot. The situation looked more serious than a simple scolding. And so, without thinking any further, Lucifer sped through the air towards the two angels. 

“Lucifer!! Don’t–!,” Lilith shouted in a whisper, one hand reaching out to try and stop the angel, though he was much too fast for her.

“Are you suggesting–?!” Lucifer could hear Sera’s voice rise in pitch, incredulity heavy in her tone.

“No, that’s not what I said, I–” Michael argued back.

“Sera! Michael!,” Lucifer yelled, stopping the two in their tracks as he landed in front of them. “What’s happening? Why are you fighting?”

Sera let go of her grip on Michael’s arm as she turned to Lucifer. “Your brother here,” she pointed harshly at Michael. “Is the reason why no development has occurred for so long in the garden. He has poisoned the first man,” she hissed. 

Lucifer looked towards Michael, then at Adam who remained behind him, shocked at the news Sera had just told him. Michael and Adam? Since when? His brother simply looked down and away from him, not from shame of loving the first man, but from the feeling of his hypocrisy being brought up to the surface as his brother, who he had reprimanded for having an affair with the first woman, stood in front of him. 

There was a brief, but deafening, silence between the four as Lucifer took in the revelation, letting everything truly sink in. 

“A-anyways, as I’ve said before,” Michael continued, not looking his brother in the eye. “I did not manipulate Adam! I would never do something like that! Adam…,” he looked back at the human behind him, smiling softly. “He chose me of his own accord.”

Sera rubbed her temples, feeling her head become heavier and dense with exasperation. “Do you not understand?,” snapped at Michael. “You are causing him to stray from God’s plan. That’s what he was made for. Do you plan to cause his unmaking?” 

The area between the four suddenly felt colder at Sera’s words, the threat of possible harm to the humans the brothers fell for lodged like a bullet to their brain, and suddenly, both only became concerned for the safety of their respective beloved. 

“Lucifer, you were responsible for the well being of the garden and its people. You’ve failed once already, don’t fail again,” Sera reprimanded. 

“I–” Lucifer looked between Sera and Michael, torn between the two, unsure of what to say. Of course, he wanted to defend his brother, he agreed with him after all. He believed that the humans shouldn’t have to be forced to follow and live a life they never asked for, but the thought of causing their unmaking, to return them to dust and be born anew. He couldn’t risk losing the Lilith he had already grown to love and care for. 

He looked Michael in the eyes, his ruby reds wide with apology, and guessing from Michael’s own look of sad understanding, it seemed that he already knew what Lucifer’s choice was. 

“S-Sera’s right, Michael,” Lucifer forced out. “To influence Adam like that…it’s dangerous. We shouldn’t try to thwart God’s plan.” 

“Lucifer..!,” Adam cried out from behind Michael, finally speaking up as he looked at his supposed friend, golden eyes pained from the betrayal. “How cou–”

Michael’s hand pressed against Adam’s chest, stopping him from saying anything further. There was no need to drag Lucifer and Lilith down with him, no need to escalate things further. If only he was to be punished, then that would be good enough for him. 

Satisfied with Lucifer’s words, Sera turned her attention back to Michael. “Michael, of all angels, I just couldn’t believe it would be you to do something like this. What happened? What skewed your principles?,” she sighed tiredly before straightening back up, heavenly glow brightening up again as she prepared to deliver judgement for Michael’s actions. “You are hereby forever banished from the garden. You are forbidden to interact with any of the humans. You will instead be assigned to the lands outside the garden, where you will handle the threats there. Be grateful that is all I’m giving you.”

The shame and guilt of the traitorous words he had just said against his brother and his friend made Lucifer unable to say anything further as he kept his gaze away from the two; too cowardly to face the pain and betrayal in their eyes. 

—-

Michael was banished from the garden. Banned from ever seeing Adam again. Adam was once again, alone in the garden. 

The moonlight shone brightly in the night sky, its serene beauty a shimmering reflection on the lake’s surface. The light bounced off of the water, lighting up the small area around it. Adam sat by the rock on the lake’s edge, the moon’s reflected light dancing across his doleful face. The night had a forlorn quietness to it, and so will the morning and the night after and the day after, at least for Adam anyway. He threw a small at the lake and watched it bounce across the water, its little plips and plops the only true sound around him. That is until he heard light fluttering accompanied by quiet approaching him. He knew who those belonged to, though he didn’t have the energy to turn and greet them. 

“Adam,” Lilith called out, her voice the gentlest he had ever heard of, as she sat beside him, though she ensured that there was a comfortable distance between them. Lucifer, on the other hand, opted to remain standing just behind Adam and Lilith. 

Lilith knew what had happened, in fact, she was there, though she remained hidden behind the trees, unwilling to bring herself towards the conflict. Lucifer had told her some more of the intricacies, and while she felt horribly for what happened to both Michael and Adam, considering she had first insisted Adam pursue the angel, she was also relieved to know that they, at least, had been spared and her secret with Lucifer remained hidden. It was selfish she knew that, but this was the best outcome. 

“I heard what happened…,” she started. “And I…I’m sorry.” She then glanced at Adam, who’s eyes remained glued to the moon’s reflection on the lake’s surface, then shifted her gaze towards Lucifer, tilting her head a bit. 

Lucifer stiffened at Lilith’s suggestion. He felt horrible, really. How should he even begin? Words and apologies were simply not enough, but he would try anyway. He took a deep breath, calming his nerves. 

“I- I’m so sorry Adam. I had to choose, and I–”

“It’s alright. You simply did what you thought was best. I’m sure Michael would agree with that,” Adam replied, his breath shaky as he tried to withhold his sorrow. “There’s no need to apologise.”

Lucifer finally decided to sit beside Adam, a hand on his back, rubbing it up and down. Lilith also moved closer, sandwiching Adam between her and Lucifer. The three watched the moon in doleful silence. A quiet sob the only other sound by the lake.

Part 10

Part 12

[oneshotnewbie]

Can you also do a oneshot where B!D is the one kidnapped in season 2 instead of Alex and she almost dies because of her asthma?

Authors note: I changed the scenery a bit and wrote a different storyline because I think it would be totally weird to write the exact same episode in season two with Baby Danvers instead of Alex in it. Hope that's okay!

ᕚ---ᕘ

Kara and Alex were on their way to your apartment, where you had planned a peaceful family dinner, when suddenly their cell phones lit up and beeped wildly in a monotonous tone. The message the two received from an anonymous sender was short and clear, but still very disturbing and frightening. "Your sister is in danger. Come to the old warehouse at the harbor alone if you want her back alive. If you take the Martian with you, she will die."

"Call her immediately!" said the redhead in a panic as she tried to trace the sender using a cell phone tracking device installed on her phone. But both the call and the pursuit went nowhere and, full of concern, the two sisters followed the instructions with a desperate expression.

Shortly afterwards the two found themselves in front of an abandoned warehouse. The surroundings were silent and frightening, only the gentle sound of the sea against the harbor wall accompanied their quick steps before they stopped opposite a shadow that only slowly approached them. "Who the hell are you and where is our sister?"

"Kara, Alex. It's nice that you came," spoke a cool voice before the shadow grew into a male figure. Despite the passing years of her high school days, Alex instantly realized that it was Rick Malverne who had been ruthlessly targeting Supergirl's family and identity for some time.

“What did you do to y/n?!” Kara shouted angrily, her eyes glowing red with anger. Malverne smiled and finally stepped into the light, where the two women's eyes met his ice-cold one. He pulled a small device out of his pocket and played around with it before throwing it to the redhead. The two of them were able to see a black and white shot of you on the small camera.

"Your sweet little sister. She will be useful for the success of my plans," he grinned devilishly and the two siblings took another look at the device in their hands. You were trembling uncontrollably in fear and with a look of panic on your face, you tried desperately to fight against the amount of cold water that was increasing slowly in the watertank you were trapped in. "And if you don't cooperate, she'll soon run out of air."

The tension in the warehouse reached its peak when Malverne stood triumphantly. His cold eyes fixed on the two siblings who were forced to be in his power. The two siblings looked at each other briefly, their minds quick as lightning as they considered how they could save you from this life-threatening situation before deciding to play his game. After all, it was your life that was now in the hands of a madman. "What do you want from us?" the redhead asked through gritted teeth, her anger running unbearably through every fiber of her body.

"Very wise of you, Danvers. You're going to help me get my father out of jail. If you don't get him out within the next six hours-" he threatened with a malicious grin and flipped a small switch in his other hand that displayed a timer on the camera. "She dies within a very short time. You have no choice."

Kara clenched her fists, her knuckles already losing blood and turning white, but she knew she had to proceed carefully. "Hop, hop, Supergirl. You don't have much time left." the blonde nodded hesitantly and he disappeared back into the darkness. The two siblings were tense as they were forced to cooperate with the enemy to save you. But in the hearts of both women they swore that Malverne's sinister plans would not go unanswered and that they would receive punishment.

While Kara and Alex reluctantly took every opportunity to hatch a plan, they tried to mislead him with a clever but stressful situation. While J'onn posed as Supergirl, Kara activated her superpowers and attacked him from behind.

When both Alex and J'onn as Supergirl took advantage of his attention and negotiated with him, the blonde took advantage of the moment of surprise. She shot forward and grabbed him in a lightning-quick movement, throwing him against the wall. Alex immediately followed her, her hands gripping his neck in a tight grip. He could only watch helplessly as his plans collapsed.

"You didn't think we'd give up so easily, did you?" Alex spoke in a threatening tone while Kara fixed him with an icy stare. They left him in the hands of the Martian who took him to the DEO and they rushed to the water tank where you were trapped and still fighting for your life. The water level rose threateningly and you were already gasping for air to the last millimeter. “Y/n, hold on!”

With her strength and speed, the blonde threw herself at the tempered safety glass until it began to shatter and you flowed out of the tank with the flood of water. The relief was palpable, but the joy of your safety was short-lived and the hardships took their toll.

Exhausted and panting in panic, you collapsed in her arms with a choking gasp, gasping for air as your siblings exchanged frightened looks. "She's having an asthma attack!" The redhead whispered, her expression serious as she realized that neither you nor any of them had an inhaler with them. "She needs to go to the hospital. There's no time to waste!"

The blonde nodded in agreement and the blonde gently lifted you into her arms. Alex also clung to Kara before she flew into the air. The night air was cool as she flew with you over the city, reaching the hospital at breathtaking speed. Doctors immediately rushed over to take care of you while Kara and Alex waited anxiously, hoping that you would regain your strength soon.

[wootensmith]

Teeth

(the version where she's angry with him. Is it long? yes. Should it be longer? probably also yes)

The anchor was a physical pulse against his skin, even miles from her. They’d been slogging through the desolate ruby wastes for days before he felt it wash over him. He had expressly avoided asking his companions about the former Inquisitor, though Varric had hinted that she had been kept informed of Solas’s movements in particular and the Veilguard’s generally. Solas had taken it as a warning. That she chose not to intervene. That she had at last abandoned him to his fate after a decade of chasing. He told himself it was for the best. He failed to convince himself more often than not, but he did not truly have the time or liberty to alter what was.

It had taken far too long to ready himself, to ready Rook and the others to face the Evanuris. If he had known what the Inquisitor was truly doing in order to buy them that time— well, he could hardly panic more than he already had. Once they had prepared, it was relatively simple to follow the thickening trails of Blighted creatures and land to their source. At least until the remaining life in the region was simply swallowed by it. Solas had no doubt that a sea of darkspawn lay ahead, but for now, at least, they were alone in the bleak and barren mountains. Except for that familiar pulse.

“Do you feel that?” he’d asked Varric, hours before they reached her. Varric paused to catch his breath, thought for a moment. “What? The red lyrium? Are you already hearing it?” he asked. “No, it’s something else. It feels like— the anchor.” Varric’s expression shifted, closed off immediately. “Don’t feel anything, Chuckles. Maybe it’s just nerves.” The others had noticed their pause and called back to them. He waved to indicate he and Solas were coming.

“Where is she, Varric?” he asked, already knowing he’d get no answer. Varric started walking again. “I don’t know,” he said, and nothing more. “What is she doing?” Solas persisted, dread creeping in as surely as the anchor’s pulse became more certain. “I imagine the same thing we are.” “I’m not going to harm her—” “More.” The word bristled. He wanted to protest. Varric expected a protest, was spoiling for an argument. But Solas knew better. “Yes,” he agreed quietly, “More. But if it is the anchor and I can persuade her to—” “I don’t know, and that’s the truth,” Varric admitted reluctantly. “She knows about us, but it’s not reciprocal. That was on purpose. Last I saw her, she said she was traveling to warn the other clans. To try and prepare them. Whatever you were doing was— changing things. You already know about Harding— there’ve been hundreds of others. Sera was a basket case when she accidentally lit a few of her arrows on fire. The Inquisitor helped her with controlling it. That’s what Sera says anyway. And they realized there’d be more like her. If she could convince the Keepers to begin training and to get ready for whatever consequences your ritual would bring if we failed to stop you— didn’t expect it all to go this wrong. That’s all I know.”

They trudged in silence for a while.  “If it makes you feel any better, Chuckles,” Varric said suddenly, “I really don’t feel anything. But I’m not shooting lightning bolts from my fingertips either, so maybe I wouldn’t.” He glanced up at Solas. “But if you want to know what I really think— I don’t think you feel it either. You just really miss her.” “I hope you are right,” said Solas, and left it at that, though the anchor’s pulse became stronger and steadier as they walked until he was certain he’d see her just over the next rise of broken boulders and crimson lyrium crystals.

It wasn’t until the bleeding horizon became subtly tinged with a green glow that Varric said, “I feel it now, Solas.” He said it quietly, as if it would alarm the others. As if he, himself, were alarmed. Still, Solas doubted himself. “Did you, before? During our journeys together? Could you feel the anchor? Perhaps it’s only a powerful spell and I mistake—” “It’s the anchor,” said Varric, his expression grim, “Unless there’s something else like it. Couldn’t ever feel it like you probably could but when she’d do that… thing, it felt like this. You know, when everything would slow down except us and it felt like a narrow sphere or bubble where the world just— stopped breathing. Felt like this.” Solas was quiet for another minute, climbing the slope behind Rook.

“Why would she come here?” Solas asked. “The only people we have seen were days ago and they were fleeing. There cannot be clans here.” “Maybe she stopped doing that. I mean, what’s the point in preparing them when the worst has already happened?” “You’ve truly heard nothing since the ritual? If hiding her activity from me were the purpose of your one way communication, surely my imprisonment would have alleviated the need for that.” “Shit, Chuckles, the end of the ritual would have made it pointless, regardless of how it turned out. No, she’s been quiet. I’ve been trying. She didn’t want to be found or— look: Elgar’nan and Ghilan’nain are gods aren’t they?” “They aren’t, as you well know,” snapped Solas. Varric held up his hands to calm him down. “I know that’s what you say, and for my part, I believe you. But the Dalish had generations of people teaching them that these are their creators. You don’t just forget that because someone you like tells you so.” Solas shook his head. “No, we discussed it, more than once. By the time all was said and done, she was convinced. And after what’s been done, I cannot think she’d still believe—” “I wasn’t talking about the Inquisitor believing you, Solas. I was talking about the Dalish believing her. Maybe she’s here because the clans are here. Maybe she’s still trying to convince them. Or maybe she has convinced them and they’re trying to do the same thing we are.”

Solas sighed. “I wished to give her a peaceful existence after the Inquisition. Not this.” Varric stopped to wipe his face and drank from his waterskin. “Yeah, well, once you start trying to save the world, I don’t think you ever stop,” he said, passing the skin to Solas, “I mean, look at us. I should be writing a novel or dodging the merchant’s guild. And she should be redecorating Skyhold or torturing nobles with Sera. And you should be… I don’t know, sleeping or something. But here we all are. Maybe.” He squinted at the green light leaking into the horizon. “I guess we’ll see. No idea how far away that light is, but I’d assume we get to it before nightfall.”

They heard her before she came into view, however. Solas could feel not only the thrum of the anchor by that point, but also the frisson of a powerful spell both familiar and exponentially larger than he remembered from her. The emerald of the anchor had long ago pushed back all the wine-red of the sky, banished the Blight’s dark signature and replaced it.  “—implore you not to do this—” her voice threaded in and out of the breeze, raw and exhausted and faint, but undeniably the Inquisitor.  Solas scrambled up the last ridge, the others struggling to keep up.

“We are kin, lethallen. What would it profit me to lead you astray?”  The stamp and clatter of hundreds of feet threaded through her words, slightly more distant but undeniable. Solas emerged at the top of the ridge. Just below on the edge of the plateau marched thousands of elves. An enormous green barrier straddled most of the plateau and the Inquisitor shone like a sun inside its center, her lone arm raised and shaking with the effort of maintaining the spell. A much smaller group stood inside the barrier but did not move. Those outside simply marched toward the sphere of her spell.

  “Shit,” muttered Varric as he reached Solas and stared down at her barrier.  “Sathan, listen. They are not what they seem,” she called. “She sounds— tired,” said Varric. Solas descended down onto the plateau. “Would you slaughter your own family to satisfy those who care nothing for you?”  Solas began pushing through the crowd to get closer, to see who stood with her, why they said nothing even as her voice began to give out. He had assumed it was clan Lavellan, content to stand bodily in the way of the others but not willing to fight. But as he drew closer, he heard her call her own Keeper. 

“Deshanna, you know that they are not gods. You know I do not lie. Turn back, please. Please, Hahren, do not let our brothers and sisters throw away their lives.” A small break in the groups of elves allowed Solas to dart through to the edge of her barrier. The power from her spell was almost painful, pouring even beyond the barrier, pushing, pushing the others backward, but not enough to contain them. He knew he could break through if he forced it, but he did not wish to risk harming her when the spell collapsed. He waited beyond the barrier and watched Deshanna, bent like a wind-blown pine hobble toward the Inquisitor. She, too, stayed beyond the barrier.

“I believe you, da’len,” she said slowly. “And I also know that it doesn’t matter that I do. Whether we worship them or not, they still have the strength to wipe us all away.  Pretenders they may be, but we cannot fight them. Come with us, do not stand against your people.” “You can fight them. We can fight them. Tell them, Abelas, tell them the Evanuris are not invulnerable.” Solas glanced at the others inside the barrier. Abelas and Mythal’s remaining sentinels were indeed among her forces. Hundreds of unmarked elves as well. Even Sera. He even recognized his own agents sprinkled in. It was as Varric had feared. She was trying desperately to stop the Dalish from joining Elgar’nan and Ghilan’nain. And failing, if the expressions of the others were any indication.

“I have told them, lethallan. As have we all. If they will not listen to you, who has already defeated a would-be god, why would they hear me?” Abelas’s face was twisted into a furious scowl at the Dalish closing in on them. “The whole world will fight against you, Keeper,” cried the Inquisitor. “And the Blight will take you. Stay with us, let us stand together. Let us protect the little ones at least. Do not do this, I beg you.” Her voice gave out at last, the end of her words little more than a rasping breeze. Deshanna sadly shook her head. “There is nowhere to stand, da’len. There is no protection for any of us. The others go because they believe their Creators have called them, no matter what you or I may say. And I go with them because I would not spend my last hours parted from those I love. It is the only choice we have left. God or man, Elgar’nan will find us, should we disobey. And he will sear us from the land. If we go to him, you are the only threat remaining to us. And your love will stop you from harming us. This, I know. There is still time, fanor, but you are lost to your grief. I hope you will find your way back to us again. I will ink your vallaslin on that day with my own hand. Dareth shiral, da’len.”

Deshanna hobbled around the edge of the barrier and the Inquisitor began to weep. “Don’t do that,” said Sera softly, hugging her shoulders. “Don’t, Buckles. We tried. Can’t help them if they won’t listen. And even you can’t scare ‘em more than those enormous elfy bastards do.” She can’t, but I can, Solas realized. He stretched and bristled, ignoring the horrified cries of Varric and Rook behind him. The Inquisitor’s barrier rapidly shrunk beneath him, his muzzle rising skyward. An intense growl rippled from him ricocheting in booming echoes from the ring of mountain that surrounded the plateau. The elves below shrieked and scattered. All except the tiny figures inside the Inquisitor’s emerald shield. They remained motionless.

Solas’s hackles spiked and sparked and he hunched forward, shielding the Inquisitor’s forces with his massive head. “Elgar’nan and Ghilan’nain care nothing for scurrying rodents.” His words thundered and rattled the very stones. “But I delight in hunting ignorant rabbits,” he snarled. He took a few bounding steps forward, careful to avoid trampling anyone too slow to flee his path. “Fly!” he commanded, “And never return. For I have your scent. If you betray me, I shall stalk you to the end of the world. Not even a god will save you.”  He waited, chest heaving, jaws dripping, as the remaining elves retreated as quickly as they could. He expected some resistance, some foolhardy would-be hero to poke his foot, climb his tail, stand defiant before him, but after a few moments, none remained to challenge him. This is not an army, he reminded himself, those trained in combat are my own allies or went to the Evanuris long ago. These are just families driven by fear. Clans desperate to please those they’ve been taught gave them life and purpose. He let the wolf dwindle away. He felt suddenly too small. Smaller even than the elves who had dashed from his sight. And chilled to the bone. He turned, seeking his people and the Inquisitor. Her barrier was gone and with it, the light of the anchor, though he felt it still, drumming steadily against his skin like a second heart. 

One of his agents ran toward him. “Apologies, Ser,” she gasped as she reached him. “We— we lost contact and assumed… the former Inquisitor approached us soon after and persuaded some of us that— well, that our goals aligned, at least for the time. Until you would return, some chose to follow her. If we’d known you—” “How many does she have under her banner?” he interrupted, half brushing past the agent to return to the others. “I am uncertain. We work in cells. I thought— I thought it was something you had taught her. I have seen several hundred in our attempt to dissuade the Dalish from joining the Evanuris, but I have no doubt there are more. Those are only the cells she visited personally. They are positioned all along this ridge. If you need positions I can—” He clasped the agent’s shoulder. “That may be useful later. But you have done well,” he said. He headed for the Inquisitor before he could be further delayed. Several of his own people took rapid steps back as he approached and even Abelas and his sentinels gave way without comment. Solas regretted their apparent fear. Worse, the Inquisitor was visibly shaking as he reached her. He thought, for a moment, that she too, was terrified. Sera scowled when she caught sight of him and her hand clutched the pommel of a dagger. 

“You told me once that no real god need prove himself,” the Inquisitor said when she saw him. But she did not stop trembling. He hesitated, thinking he had miscalculated, that she quaked not from fear but rage. “I am no god and it looked as if they needed proof.” It won him a crooked smile and he clung to it. “Thank you for— the demonstration,” she said. “We have been trying for weeks to turn them back. I feared it would come to violence here at the last. Your display has bought us time at least.” “They will return,” said Abelas. “We will not be able to dissuade them with words and shadows next time, lethallan.” “I know. That is why this must end before they gather their courage again. We must press forward to the true battle.”  “Not until you’ve had a rest. Shake yourself to pieces before we get over the ridge, Buckles,” said Sera, letting go of her dagger’s hilt to grab the Inquisitor’s elbow to steady her.  “Just need a minute. And a lyrium potion,” said the Inquisitor. “Now is the time to press—” “Then let him do it. His mess anyway,” snapped Sera, glaring at Solas. “If he’s even on our side, that is.” “He is. For now,” said Rook. Varric hurried to introduce her to the Inquisitor. 

Solas took a step back, expecting to melt back into the others for the time being while the Inquisitor spoke to Rook. It would give him a chance to gather information from—  “Not as slick as you think, Droopy,” Sera hissed into his ear as she slipped behind him, hard metal touching just above his hip. “Do you truly think a dagger would stop me if I wished to escape?” “You think your growl’s going to stop me from trying? Faster on the draw than Varric, anyway. And he’s managed you just fine, looks like.” “I am where I wished most to be, Sera. And it seems we are all headed to where I am most needed. Save your dagger for Ghilan’nain and I will save my growls for Elgar’nan.” There was no time for more. The crowd around them was rapidly dispersing. The Inquisitor followed Abelas toward the ridge. Her steps were unsteady, faltering.

“Oh no, Buckles,” Sera said. “Where are you going?” “We need to gather the others. We need to buy the Veilguard some time.” She didn’t even turn to look back at them, staggering after Mythal’s sentinels who had already far outpaced her. “Then let me go, Vhenan,” he called after her. She stopped, even as Sera protested. “Oh no, Droopy. You aren’t leaving our sight. You’d make em all run or turn em to stone or summat.” “You’ve had my own agents among you all this time,” he said calmly. “I didn’t need to wait until now to betray you.” “Pfft. Already knew about them. They came to us. After you locked yourself in your own dungeon. Arse. Yeah, Varric told us about that. Told you, your growls don’t scare me. Buckles either.” He saw the Inquisitor’s shoulders rise in a sigh and then fall heavily again and she started trudging forward.  “If you will not let me go in your stead, then let your people. They will reach your other groups with more speed and you are exhausted. It’ll do no good to—” “And who’s fault is that, hmm? She wouldn’t have been holding up your snot-bubble anchor if you’d been—” “Sera—” called Varric. Solas rounded on her. “I was— am trying to aid you. None of this has gone as planned, but even so, I take responsibility for my part. If it makes you feel better to cast me again as the Great Adversary, then by all means—” “Enough!” cried the Inquisitor and she stopped, turned back to them. “If we do not stop the Evanuris and soon, then they will take everyone I’ve ever loved. I will die fighting my own people, regardless of the outcome. I cannot wait while you finish your squabbling. Either help me or leave me the few moments of peace that are left.”

Sera backed off immediately, surprising Solas. “Right. Sorry Buckles. Want you to rest is all. You shouldn’t be here. All of this is— wrong.”  “I know. I’m sorry I’ve dragged you into this.” “None of that. Just— just sit down, yeah? Before you fall apart at the bendy bits.”  “There’s no time. You know where we are bound. I am, indeed, already far too slow.” Sera glanced at Solas and then quickly away. “I’ll go, then. If somebody’s got to. Should be me, I know where they are and can direct the messengers. No reason for you to wear out the mountains going back and forth. But you don’t do this without me, right? And you rest. No matter what— anyone says. Promise.”  The Inquisitor nodded in obvious relief. “I promise, lethallan. I will take care. Varric will force me to in your stead.”

Sera nodded then leaned toward Solas and hissed in a low voice, “You breathe on her wrong and I’ll—” “Please, Sera,” the Inquisitor begged, her voice distressed enough that Varric hurried toward her. “I know, Buckles,” said Sera. “Don’t worry, we’ll all be right behind you.” Sera walked past her and squeezed her shoulder before breaking into a sprint. The Inquisitor turned to Solas. “And you. You scorn your title, your role as our ‘Great Adversary’ but that is exactly who we needed these past months. Years. Lifetimes. We needed someone to oppose the Evanuris. We needed Fen’harel. We begged— I begged you to help and all that met me was silence. You at least left me with some— particle of truth so I didn’t join my clan when they heard Elgar’nan’s call. What hope did any of the others have? There was no one to tell them he was a lie. That all of their prayers and offerings were— were dross. That everything he is promising them is only an illusion covering ruin.” She swiped at her eyes and her expression hardened into a bitter frown. “In all those long centuries of silence, from you, from them, there’ve been no answers. And now there’s only me. So put it aside, then, this title you hate. I will be the Great Adversary instead. I will fight them to save them from Elgar’nan. From the Blight. You can sleep again. Go. Return to your silence and your Fade and your true Elvehn.” 

“I’ve tried. I tried to bring them the truth,” he cried, crushed by the dismissal. He tried to ignore the way Varric flinched at his tone. “When? You’ve had millennia, Solas. You sealed them away and had thousands of years to expose the truth. None of the Evanuris were free to oppose you.” “It took more effort than you realize to keep them contained. Regaining my strength cost many centuries.” “You wander the Fade. You touch the dreams of others. You could have—” “Yes. Many, many dreams. Those who believed them on waking were called mad or fool, just as I was. You have seen the handful who believed me. They’re already with you. Who else should I have told? What else could I have done?” “And what is it you told that handful? The same tiny portion you told me? Something more? You think I just accepted the agents of Fen’harel without asking them what they knew of you? Or do you think I didn’t take your warning when last I saw you? That I just accept whoever wanders into my path? I’ve asked, Solas. I’ve struggled to find what I could for a decade. You’ve told none of us the whole truth. I don’t know if you’re so worried about betrayal that you can’t even warn us, or if you’re truly indifferent to our fates. If it were betrayal— haven’t we proven true yet? The Inquisition at least? You let Corypheus take your power, sear this thing into me and we didn’t betray you then. I didn’t go home as soon as Cassandra took the shackles off because I was needed. And neither did any of the others once the Breach was closed. And we didn’t try to seize that power or make deals with Corypheus or turn against you. None of us. And still you… it must be indifference. This time, with Elgar’nan and Ghilan’nain, it must be that you still do not think we’re real. Or that you have only contempt for us. I even asked you directly, last time that we met. After everything. I asked you how you intended to deal with the Evanuris and you assured me you had plans to thwart them. And here we are. This is worse than just allowing them to enslave us. To consume us. Because now we will slaughter each other in their names. And you couldn’t even spare a word in warning before loosing them upon us.”

Rook cleared her throat. “To be fair,” she said, though Varric vehemently shook his head in warning, “I had an accidental hand in thi—” “Ir abelas,” Solas interrupted, because in his heart he knew it did not matter that Rook’s mistake had resulted in his plans going awry. This was, indeed, his own doing. “This is not what I intended. Tel’nan em.” There was nothing else to say. No other plea he could make. “I wish I could, Vhenan,” the Inquisitor said. “If I hated you, this would hurt far less than it does.” That was all. Just that acknowledgment as if she were utterly defeated. And then she turned to Varric. “May I borrow your shoulder, falon?” she asked him.  “Always,” said Varric, wrapping an arm around her back to support her. “Just for a moment,” she said, walking them slowly back down the slope toward Solas. “I know you and Rook have your own strategy. I’ll let you go in a moment.” “Think we’ve got a ways to go before any strategies kick in, Herald,” said Varric. “And you know as long as I’ve got an arm free to fire I’d give you the other.” Varric caught Solas’s eye as they passed and seemed troubled, but Solas let them go. Followed in her wake as the rest of the Veilguard went ahead of her. His chest ached, but he had no answer for her. For himself.

She was quiet. Varric too. Though the others relaxed into their normal patterns, the three of them did not. Solas was aware that she was slowing as well, dragging herself along with the help of Varric but not recovering in any meaningful way. He tried not to overtake them, wanting there to be some semblance of rearguard, but it was inevitable. “We need to find a place to camp, Herald,” said Varric at last. “No. The people you saw were not the first. There are clans ahead of us. If we don’t intercept them—” “We cannot outstrip them at this pace, my love,” said Solas gently. She seemed to have forgotten he was there, startling slightly. She let Varric go, struggled to stand upright. “Then do not wait for me. You go on, you will make better time than I.” “No, now, you promised Sera,” said Varric. “So let’s find somewhere to camp. These clans that are ahead of us, they’re mortal too, right? They’ll find places to rest.” She started to protest.

“No single person can halt an army,” said Solas. “Ir abelas. I know it is the wrong thing to say, but I can think of nothing elegant just now. If we pushed forward to the end, what could you say when you arrived? What could you do that you did not try back on the plateau?” She hesitated. “That was not meant as a challenge,” he said and held out his hand to her. An offer. A hope. “I understand the urgency but this exhaustion and pain is unnecessary. I have made this mistake a thousand times over. Please, Vhenan, take the lesson I could never learn. Let your allies help you.” “But the clans who join the Evanuris in the meantime will die.” “No—” started Varric. “Vin. They will die,” interrupted Solas. It did no good to lie to her. “And if we continue rushing recklessly in to stop them, then all the clans who have not yet arrived will also die because we will not be there to save them either. All that will change this fate is the end of Elgar’nan and Ghilan’nain. You cannot face them like this. I cannot face them like this.”  Please, he willed her but kept it trapped behind his lips. He held his breath as she finally reached for his outstretched hand. Varric barely waited for her hand to close around Solas’s.

“I’ll find the others. Hopefully they’ve found a cave or someplace out of this… lyrium trash,” he said, kicking a small red crystal nearby. He jogged off before the Inquisitor could protest. Solas doubted she would have. Her hand still shook even hours after her barrier had collapsed, though he knew it now as exhaustion instead of terror or anger.  “Lean on me, emma lath,” he told her, “There is no one watching but me and we are both too tired of pretending at strength.” She did, letting him pull her along for a minute, her shoulder and hip pressed against his.  “Do you ever feel,” she asked suddenly, “that if you give in, if you sit for a moment, let the mask fall in the quiet when nobody is there, that when it is time to get up again, you will find your legs betray you?” He stopped their movement. Brushed the dust caked hair from her face and pressed a kiss into her temple. “Vin,” he said. She did not flinch or pull away and he slid his arm around her fully and half-carried her over the next ridge. 

“I did not keep back the truth because I did not care about your fate. I am ashamed that I cannot claim to never have had contempt for the Dalish. For- for you. But that feeling withered long ago. When I met you,” he said, pausing until they could catch sight of the others ahead.  “So betrayal then. Yet here I am, standing in your stead as best I can. All these years and you still thought I would turn on you. That does not soothe me—” “No,” he said, curling his hand a little tigher around her. “I do not believe you would betray me. I feared— I feared that I would betray myself. It would have been so easy to walk away from—” he waved toward the cluster of red lyrium crowning a small clump of boulders. “If I had told you all, I would have allowed myself to be persuaded to abandon my plans. I could not. I realize, in light of all that’s gone wrong, that it seems the wiser course but it is not so. Whatever you think of me, Vhenan, I cannot bear for you to doubt yourself.  You are beloved. If it were truly my choice alone— if this world were mine to give to you, to abandon for you, I would have done so ages ago. It is only now, when I no longer have the means to turn aside, that I can tell you.”

“I would not have asked for the world, Solas, only the truth.” “I know. And yet, if I had held more of the truth back, perhaps you would not be here now.” “I would be. I’d just be marching with my clan to Elgar’nan’s side. A few days from becoming a shriek.” Her voice broke and she sagged, releasing him to slide down onto the stony ground. He followed her, kneeling beside her.  “Ane vindhru. Lanaste. Alas, I cannot undo what has passed.” “Then what has this all been for?” she cried. “If that was not your aim, why are we here, emma lath?” The dry wind blew scarlet dust across the rocks. Varric was a small shadow beyond them and the rest of Rook’s party a cluster of shadow melting into the craggy outcrops farther up the mountain. Solas wished he had a decent answer. “I asked you once, what you would do if you found that the future you had created was worse than what came before. You said you would keep trying to fix it. I cannot undo what I have done, but if I can ameliorate the consequences— If I can make what is to come easier, kinder, less horrendous, then I am obligated to try.”

She raised her hand to his cheek, at last touching him, at last reaching to comfort him. “The mistake was not in trying, fanor. The mistake was insisting on doing it alone.” He leaned in, pressing his forehead to hers. “I know. Forgive me, forgive me, Vhenan.” “Ir abelas,” she said, wiping tears from his cheek, “Forgiveness is not mine to give or withhold. I am just one person in all this.” “I know. I do not ask you to forgive me for the state of the world, but for the wrongs I have done you, my love. For— for the anchor. For the omissions. The silence.”

“The truth then, from here on, promise me.” “Vin.”  “We are going to our deaths, aren’t we?” she asked very quietly.  “It is likely.”  “But what we do— it can save the others? Our people? Our friends? All the innocents who remain?” He wanted to answer easily, to affirm everything she desperately wanted. But it was not the truth. “I hope that it will. I wish that I could promise it, but I cannot.” She let out a shaky breath between them, her thumb smoothing his cheek gently. “Whatever the outcome, we go together. Swear to it.” “Yes, this too.” She leaned back slightly, grasped his jaw and stared intently at him. “Then find your teeth, Dread Wolf. I cannot defeat them alone.”

He clasped her arm where it ended and the anchor flared and bathed them in a halo of green light. “It was never my teeth that were lacking. There are times—” He paused, took a shuddering breath. “There are times I feared all that remained of me was teeth and rage and cruelty. It was my heart that was lost. But I have found her again. If she can forgive my carelessness in misplacing her. If she will take me.” Her hand loosened around his chin and she pressed a soft kiss to his lips. “I leave forgiveness to the world, my love. But you, Solas, I take for myself, teeth and all,” she said.

[whiskey-bumblebee]

Hotch and reader making a trip to Greece because reader is a Mamma Mia! fan and swim in the sea and whatever else you want (sorry, my sister and I watch the movie daily and can't think of anything else at this point)

omg hi!!! i love this for us <3 thank you for your request!

I was in Greece this time last year and it's so lovely :) I really recommend spending some time in the Peloponnese if you're able to!

A/N: some chaos at the beginning (definitely OOC but it's just for fun <3), then just fluff! Also this is fem!reader but 90% of it is GN, and reader is vegetarian <3

Word Count: 1.3k

"I don't know if I'll be able to swing the time off..." Aaron trails off, knowing this is an argument he's bound to lose.

"What's Strauss' phone number?"

His eyebrows quirk up at that. "You want to call Strauss?"

"Me, in my swimsuit, lounging on the beach, just needing someone to put sunscreen on my shoulders...." You run your hands through Aaron's hair. "What's the number?"

Aaron groans playfully, melting into your touch. "703 632 1990. Keep it PG-13."

You dance happily, a smile on your face as you walk over to the home phone and dial the number.

"Good morning," You say chirpily, and hold a finger to your lips when Aaron starts to laugh. "Is this Erin?"

"If by Erin you mean-"

"Great! SSA Hotchner needs a few weeks of work. It's urgent."

"I'm not the person you should-"

"Uh uh," You say quickly. "I didn't actually ask a question. He will be off work for three weeks, starting this weekend, and he will not be reachable."

"May I ask why?"

"You may not! Have a great day."

You hang up quickly, and immediately start laughing.

"What did I just do?"

Aaron laughs too, but his face drops when his phone starts ringing.

He looks over at the screen, then over at you. "It's Strauss."

You laugh, and reach for his phone. "I'll take it."

He passes his phone to you, trusting your process. He's in too deep now not to.

"Good morning," You repeat in the same tone as before.

"This is a secure FBI line, how the hell-"

"Oh hi Erin! I'm assuming you're calling to confirm the time off. Don't worry! I'll let him know myself."

You hang up quickly and pass the phone back to Aaron.

"They should have you on the hostage negotiation team," Aaron laughs. "That was..."

"Brilliant?" You finish, sparkling.

"Brave," He nods. "I'll have to do a lot of ass-kissing to make up for that, you know."

You sigh, taking a seat in his lap. "I know. But you need a break, sweetheart. And you know how the Bureau responds if you ask politely."

___

"I can't believe we're here!" You say, glowing despite the jetlag. "That's such a nice boat. Everything here is so beautiful."

You're in the small town of Pilio, walking along the seaside. A large white sailing boat is moored in the water of the bay, glimmering like a pearl atop the blue water.

"I'm glad you like it," Aaron whispers, wrapping his arms around you from the back. "Because it's where you'll be sleeping for the next two weeks."

You spin around quickly. "Really?"

Aaron smiles, pressing his nose against yours. "Really."

"I didn't know you knew how to sail?"

"I don't," He admitted. "There is an old Greek man called Alexandros who agreed to do the practical sailing part. And his wife Demetria does the cooking. They're staying in the second cabin."

"I love you," You smile, kissing Aaron's blushing cheeks.

"I love you t-"

"Yasou!" You hear, from across the water. "Mr. FBI!"

"Kalimera, Alexandros!" Aaron calls back. He gestures to you. "Mrs. FBI."

"Mrs. FBI! Kalimera!"

"Kalimera!" You call back, smiling widely.

"Mrs. FBI?" You ask, looking over at Aaron with a raised eyebrow.

"We'll have time for proper introductions later. Do you want to swim to the boat or do you want me to go get the rowboat?"

"You know I'll never turn down Aaron Hotchner in a rowboat."

Aaron rolls his eyes playfully, but kisses you on the cheek. "Okay."

He strips out of his clothing quickly, abandoning his black t-shirt and jeans on top of his suitcase, just far enough from the water's edge that everything will stay dry while he swims to fetch the smaller boat.

You whistle at him, attracting Alexandros' attention. The grey-haired man whoops as Aaron runs into the warm water. You hear Aaron's laugh echoing as he heads towards the boat. You take a seat on your suitcase, enjoying the view of your boyfriend's arms flexing as he carries himself through the water. His hair is glossy in the saltwater, and he's almost a different person now that all of his worries are a continent away.

A few moments later, he rows over to you, loading your suitcases into the boat, and helping you to step in and take a seat.

"Ready?"

You nod eagerly, and he starts to row. "I'm just going to keep saying I love you, because I do. I don't know how you organized all of this so fast."

He smiles, and you have a feeling you'll be seeing a different side of him on this trip. A more playful side, a more loving side. Not that he wasn't loving, but here he could be open about it. Propriety and shame had fallen away somewhere in the Atlantic.

"I left our itinerary open, and Alexandros says we can go anywhere we like, but I thought we could head over to Kalokairi for a few nights, and then visit some of the other islands? And if you don't like the boat, we can always stay in a hotel, or-"

"This is perfect," You say, resting your hand over Aaron's, as he grips an oar.

"And we're close enough to Athens that if you want to take in some temples, or go wine tasting in Eretria, or... anything, really, we can. Just say the word."

___

You're resting your head on Aaron's shoulder as he steers the boat to Skopelos, reading to him from a guidebook.

"Located between Skiathos and Alonissos in the Sporades island group, Skopelos in Greece has become a very popular destination since it was used as a filming location for the musical movie Mamma Mia," You nudge Aaron. "That's us."

He hums affirmatively.

"...Popular among couples, that's us too, and families, the island has a picturesque atmosphere and amazing beaches with an exotic landscape, exclamation mark."

"Exclamation mark? Wow," Aaron replies.

"We should recreate that scene on the beach," You say dreamily.

"Fresh pita bread," Demetria says, emerging from the galley with a basket in her hand.

"Oh wow, thank you!" You exclaim, accepting it gratefully.

"Tonight, souvlaki with lamb for him, halloumi cheese with pita for her. Greek salad, lots of feta cheese. Sounds good?"

"Sounds perfect," Aaron replies. "Thank you, Demetria."

___

"And then she has her back to this rock," You explain to Aaron, although he's seen the film almost as many times as you have. "And he pretends to shoot an arrow. And then it's just very slutty in the sand."

"And then I pin you to the rock and kiss you senseless?"

"Well, no..." You start, but then think about it for a second, and your expression gives way to a smile. "Actually, yes. That's exactly how it goes."

"And then she says, don't go wasting your devotion, lay all your love on me?"

"Yes," You say again, unable to stop smiling.

Aaron kisses your neck, pinning your hands above your head. "Well, I promise I won't waste any of my devotion."

He runs his tongue over your skin, soothing the areas that had been irritated by his scruff and his teeth.

"Aaron," You moan breathily. "Fuck me, Aaron."

"Right here?" He says, smiling at you. "We'd get in trouble, baby."

He pulls away from your body, and without him covering you, you feel exposed, and dash to the water. Sure enough, there are a couple of tourists who'd gathered around, waiting to make use of the beach to recreate the scene themselves.

Aaron raises his hand from the water and gestures for you to follow him.

You both swim past this beach, to the next one, which is much quieter. The beach is only a few metres wide, and hidden from prying eyes thanks to some rocky cliffs which dominate the landscape and separate it from the neighboring beaches.

"Lie down," Aaron whispers, as you reach the shallowest part of the water. "Let me lay all my love on you."

You sigh happily and lean back, resting on the warm sand as the waves lap at your calves, and Aaron's warm hands start to roam your body, his tongue parting your lips.

[blue-b-bro]

Colour’s meaning in ofmd:

First rule is that brighter = more intense, and lighter = more open a feeling is. I’ll say more below, but it already says something about Blackbeard’s crew being all black and only black :’)

Yellow:

Yellow is a colour of truth. Colour of following your dreams and passions. Before the break-up gown, Stede is wearing the yellow one.

Teal:

Basically it’s a sea colour. It means sea and freedom. In e4 Alma has teal dress, while playing pirates with Stede, which also shows she was closer with Stede than her brother. There’s a lot of teal-ish colours around Stede, but most are actually “hidden”, darker. He was keeping it a secret from others. When he’s on his boat in s1 he’s almost glowing teal.

It’s the colour of sea and freedom, but more like an idea of it, not a realistic one, witch may be the reason many crew members have some teal elements, usually very small, and Stede is all teal and then, in e10 he destroys this idealisation to start something real. After his first “kill” in e1 Stede’s teal's never that bright again.

Pink:

It’s a colour of rejection. Not sure why, but it is. The moment Stede leaves, Mary’s wearing light pink. When Ed becomes distant and then leaves him to go with Jack, when Stede left Ed, they are wearing the break-up gown, which is bright pink. I’d say the difference between those two intensities would say something about the intensity of the feeling. Mary was abandoned, but she wasn’t so hurt by it, they weren’t happy together. But Ed and Stede were hurt very much.

Also all of the non-white crew wears pink/pink-ish in e1, while in disguise (because you know, to show racism) + Lucius’s very bright scarf & Black Pete’s light pink… something (probably because homophobia, and Lucius is very loudly queer). All the things white colonisers reject.

Red:

We all know, it’s a heart colour, Ed’s heart but not only. Ed hides his red, Lucius is wearing a lot of red, as someone who’s not ashamed of his love and usually helps with relationship’s problems, Stede, while destroying his teal is covering it in red and in s2 wears red scarf(?). At the end of e3 Stede is covered in red, even the background turns red, while meeting Ed for the first time. He's also wearing dark red when talking about his favorite horsie :")

Salmon/Orange:

It’s a colour of insecurity, feeling inadequate or incompetent, unsure. Stede wears light salmon/orange when Ed says he’s not ready for a fuckery, then very dark (almost brown, but still salmon-ish to me) when he feared Ed’s going to leave, because Stede’s wasn’t fun enough. Ed wears dark salmon in e4, when trying this new persona/thinking he was expendable to this Blackbeard legend. Stede is deprived of his salmon vest in e2, when he got more confident.

Purple:

I think it’s the creativity and adventure colour. I’m also not sure if it’s important that what Ed was missing after leaving the Revenge was a lavender soap (something something he wanted to feel clean and with Jack he wasn’t again, it’s a colour meta, let’s not go there). I mean we say it’s Ed’s colour, but I’m not sure anyone here has “their” colour. If colours are feelings, no-one has their own. For example, other characters wearing purple is Stede in e2 (when he has to use his creativity), Lucius (art), Frenchie (music, crafts and cons) and sometimes Oluwande. Characters get more purple when they need to figure out a plan or scheming something, get creative.

White/Beige:

Stede is all white in e3. He’s like a blank canvas (Lucius is immediately covered in red again), inviting pirate world, willing to learn. It also makes him stick out like a sore thumb of course. White is supposed to mean empty, nothing, bare, open. Stede made his white crew wear mostly white, to not be seen as suspicious.

Beige, as some kind of darker white, is not knowing what you want, figuring thing out.

Ed and Stede are white when discovering their love for each other, entering something completely new for them. Stede, at the end of s1 is colourless, but in s2 he gets a red scarf and later gets green/dark teal shirt. Jim is all beige while hiding and figuring out their identity. When being afraid that he’s not enough fun, Stede choose all beige for their adventure, showing he doesn’t really know what he’s doing but he’s ready to do it.

Beige is temporary.

Now, we have yellow&red-ish&teal ship, Stede’s dark red&dark teal at his wedding, Sted’s family portrait (everyone close and light yellow/orange, except Stede - dark blue/teal and distant):

But the real kicker for me is Stede’s pitch black cravat Ed wears on his neck. His feelings for Stede while always with him, hidden very deep inside.

I also recommend those meta: x x x x x

Edit: I'm rereading metas and now I remember why purple is thought to be Ed's color (Ed's red heart + Stede's teal freedom he offers -> purple) Still fits 🤟

[baek-at-it-again95]

Walk The Plank (KHJ x fem reader)

Chapter 15: Take Me Home

You had grown up hearing tales about the infamous pirate crew ATEEZ—the fearless, power-hungry men that roamed the seas in search of the most valuable treasure they could lay their hands on. You almost didn’t believe the stories your mother had told you as a child...not until you wound up on their ship  

Warnings for this chapter: guns, violence, panic attack symptoms

A/N: Hi munchkins! I just want to remind you to take care of yourselves and rest when you need it <3 That being said, even if it's just for a few minutes, I hope that this story can be an escape from your daily stresses and that you can enjoy this time to yourself, immersed in a fictional world :)

 (Also, can we talk about the comeback teasers? Guys I predicted this LOL. And I hope this chapter is not boring, I struggled a bit to get it moving forward.) <3

Previous: Chapter 14, Masterlist

Chapter 15: Take Me Home

***

"Y/N," a voice whispers. Your eyes remain closed. "Y/N." The voice rings out again, a bit louder. Who is it?

You suddenly jolt up, taking in your surroundings before relaxing again. Right...you're in the dreadful abandoned building. "Hey, hey." Hongjoong is at your side, his hands up in front of him to keep you calm. The fire has dwindled down to nothing, the glowing embers being the only sign of it that remains.

"Did I sleep too long?" you ask. It's odd, the way you feel like you had gotten more sleep than usual, despite being in such an odd, scary place.

"No, no worries. You need your energy." That's it, you must be more exhausted from jumping worlds than you originally thought. Hongjoong helps you to your feet, and you're relieved to be removed from the hard floor.

Memories from last night slowly start to come back to you, and you remember how he told you about his lover and thanked you for your words of comfort. Thinking back to it...had you fallen asleep on his shoulder? You don't remember lying down. Heat rises to your cheeks as feelings of embarrassment suddenly wash over you. It's not a big deal considering your situation, right?

"We will probably need some food before we carry on with everything."

At his mention of food, you realize just how long it must have been since you've eaten. "Yes," you mumble. "But we do not have money."

"Is that really a problem, Miss Pirate?" You scoff at his words.

"I will have you know that I do not partake in thievery."

"Right...right. Well, you're going to learn today." Your eyes widen.

"And what would that bring us aside from more consequences?" you ask.

"Food," Hongjoong answers simply. "And what does it matter in this world? If we just plan on leaving immediately."

You sigh. "Alright."

***

Somehow, Hongjoong had managed to steal a small sum of money from a civilian's pocket to buy the two of you some food. You feel bad about it, but you're relieved that you weren't caught...and thankful that you're able to eat, of course. Not being caught allows you to avoid causing a scene...which you are going to have to cause soon, anyways. You finish off the last bite of bread you had gotten and brush your hands off on the torn skirt of your dress. 

Hongjoong holds out his own hand for you to take and you gladly accept it, wanting to travel as close to him as possible. This foreign version of Sector One makes you terribly uncomfortable. There is not an ounce of familiarity amongst its structures—amongst its culture. People dress strangely and odd things are everywhere you look.

Now that you have it in your head that you're leaving, you try not to worry about your surroundings as much. But in event that something were not to go as planned...it is hard not to worry. Your nails slightly dig into Hongjoong's hand as people pass by at an uncomfortably close distance. 

"If you keep doing that, I might end up with a hook for a hand like your Hongjoong," he says, not bothering to look at you as he walks forward. 

"Sorry," you mumble, letting go of his hand to latch onto his coat instead.

"It's alright, Y/N. I was just teasing. Oh, look!" You follow where he points to see...well, you're not really sure what you're supposed to be looking at. 

"Look at what?" you ask quietly.

"Do you see that red thing? With the glass walls?" 

"Yes."

"That is called a telephone booth. We can call people," Hongjoong explains.

"Call? Like, shout for someone?" you ask curiously. 

"Not quite. Let me show you." He walks you over to this telephone booth, opening the door to let you in. You cautiously step into the little glass box, trying to hold in your overwhelming amount of questions. What is a telephone? Why are you in a box? When Hongjoong steps inside with you, he closes the door and pulls what he has left of the stolen money from his pocket. The glass box is quite small, so you shift closer to him.

You watch very silently and very carefully as he puts the currency into the opening of yet another strange box. Once he is done, he pulls a piece of paper from his pocket. It's his 'wanted' poster. Tilting your head curiously, you watch as he looks between the paper and the little box, pressing things with numbers. He then picks up something and puts it up to his ear. 

Your eyes widen as you hear a little noise from it. "Hello?" You're just barely able to make the word out.

"I would like to report a potential sighting of some wanted criminals," Hongjoong says. His words ring in your ears, the box somehow beginning to feel smaller. You hold onto his jacket once again as he listens to the weird voice. "Yes, Kim Hongjoong and Y/N L/N. It was near that...shrine." He pauses. "No problem, sir." He sets the piece back onto the box and then grabs your arm, pulling you outside. "We have to make it to the shrine. Quick." 

Your heart thumps in your chest, following him as he leads you back into the street. "You remember where it is, right?" you ask him between breaths. 

"Of course, Y/N. It would not really be a plan if I didn't." He pulls you around the street corner where you almost run into a group of people. The group hurriedly separates down the middle to accommodate you, startled looks on their faces as you turn your head back to apologize. "Y/N, no time for apologies."

"I am sor—yes, Hongjoong." He takes you down two more streets before you see the shrine that you had passed yesterday. The scarecrow-like statue at the center seems even more eerie than before with the space being void of people. Its robes flutter in the wind, causing you to shiver. "So now...we wait?" you ask.  

"Now we wait," Hongjoong confirms. 

"I am nervous, Joong," you whisper. 

"All the more reason to get us out of here, right?" You meet his eyes. 

"Right." He nods and you watch him draw closer to the statue. You follow him anxiously, not wanting to be more than a few steps away. 

"I had a hat just like that when you first saw me, didn't I?" You try to recall when you had first jumped with the Cromer, ending up in that big, dark space. You remember watching his hat fall from his head as the Guardian grabbed him. That was when you had seen that his face was identical to your captain's. 

"You did. I remember." You look back to the shrine in silence. Now that you're a bit closer, it seems more peaceful than scary.

"Y/N, I think you should kn—"

"Hold it right there!" You both whip around to see not one, but three men. They wear the same clothing, and a shiny piece of metal near their chests. Hongjoong grips your arm and pulls you behind him. "You two can make this easy, or we can do things the hard way. It's up to you," the man in the middle says. The other two on either side take a step forward. Hongjoong holds up his hands as he turns his face slightly to you. 

"Y/N," he mumbles. "Remember that you need to think about my world in order to jump there." You grip his coat tighter in response. 

"So? What is it going to be?" the man in the center asks. 

"The hard way is fun." You can see a bit of Hongjoong's smile from where you stand behind him. As your focus is on him, someone grabs you from behind and pulls you away from him. You scream as your hands leave the safety of his coat and he whips his head to you. You've been dragged a good distance away, and you struggle against a large arm around your neck. You still as something cold presses to your temple. What is it?

"Try to pull anything and I'll shoot," the low voice from behind you threatens Hongjoong. Oh. It's a gun. You claw at the man's arm again to no avail. His grip too strong.

"Hongjoong," you cry, hoping for him to do something, anything.

"It's alright." He holds his hands back up and takes a step forward. His eyes stay focused on you as he speaks, as if he is trying to tell you something. But what?

The man holding you presses the gun to your temple with more pressure. "Joong," you whimper, squirming around in panic. 

"I will abide by your rules. Let her go," he says, taking another step forward. 

"Don't think we're stupid, boy. We've dealt with you one too many times." The man that had originally given you the option of the easy or hard way makes his way into your line of vision.

"I said I will abide by your rules. Let her go," Hongjoong repeats. The man looks to the person behind you and Hongjoong takes the opportunity to look at you again, winking. 

That's it. Try and think about his world. You shut your eyes concentrate. You visualize exactly where you had first encountered this Hongjoong, where he had been fighting a Guardian. You visualize where you had watched from behind wooden crates in the corner of the large, dark space. You open your eyes, meeting Hongjoong's. He seems to understand what you're doing. 

"Look, it's Seonghwa!" he shouts suddenly, pointing over to his side. In mere seconds, he's launched towards you, grabbing you. 

***

You breathe rapidly, eyes darting around the dark frantically. Did you do it? Did you jump? Or are you...

"Hongjoong," you gasp, grabbing for him.

"I'm here, right here," his voice rings out, taking your hand. He sounds far away. "Breathe, Y/N, you're okay. You did it. You did great." You focus on his words, trying to slow your breathing. When you feel well enough, he helps you sit up. Everything about your interactions feel like an endless cycle. You can't wait to just go home. Looking around as your eyes adjust to the dark, you observe the familiar wooden crates to your right. The large open doorway of the building allows for moonlight to stream inside and illuminate the space just slightly.

"We made it." You state.

"We did, thanks to you. You're incredible. You will probably be able to return home by morning." 

"Already? I do not wish to be shot at again," you groan, putting your head in your hands. 

"We don't have to do that again, Y/N. I promise."

"Okay," you mumble. Hongjoong stands from where he was crouching next to you.

"Ah, just where I left it," he says, pulling your attention to a black hat lying on the ground. He picks it up, dusting it off lightly before placing it on his head. You watch as he smiles to himself beneath the brim of the hat and you can't help but smile as well. "I have something I want to show you."

You give him a curious look as he comes to help you up, slowly lifting and guiding you towards the exit. You don't bother to ask what he wants to show you; you will simply wait and see. 

>>chapter 16

[fortheloveofarchons]

Nanami Kento gets a nightmare...

Contains spoilers for jjk season 2 episode 18

For those who haven't watched that episode yet, here's the tldr version of this chapter:

Nanami gets a nightmare and wakes up, trying to calm himself. After a while, he goes back to bed and hugs Yuji, promising him that he wouldn't leave or abandon him. It's a really short chapter overall.

Also just want to say thankiew for the 1k hits on my NanaHara fanfic! I know it's been around a month to some respects, but I really appreciate all of your kudos, comments, and your feedbacks! That said, I hope you will enjoy this short depressing chapter!

o((^▽^))o

.

.

.

I have to keep going… 

In the dim light of a train station somewhere in Shibuya, a man stood there, bearing the seared burned scars that’s etched into half of his body. 

Keep everyone…  safe… 

The once smooth and unblemished skin on the left side of his body was now a landscape of burned flesh, a testament to the cursed spirit’s power he had endured. The severity of the burns, however, contrasted with the resilience evident in his every movement: His right hand clenching onto his blunt sword that’s wrapped in bandages with black spots, his walks are slow yet steady, and his breathing is still in rhythm. 

“..Malaysia…” 

While his right eye is seeing all of those cursed corpses with purple blood being splattered everywhere, his mind wanders to a mental haven– A pristine beach with golden sands and gentle waves caressing the shore. The sea breeze whispered tranquillity, telling him to enter into the water. 

“...Yeah… Malaysia… Kuantan would be nice…” 

Build a house on a secluded beach.

Finally getting to all of those countless books I’ve bought but never read. 

Go through them page by page, kinda like taking back the time I’ve lost. 

In this mental oasis, Nanami felt a sense of peace in his heart, his shoulders finally light from all the burdens he’d been through, as if the imaginary waves had washed away the remnants of pain. The sun of Malaysia dipped low on the horizon, casting a warm, golden glow on Nanami’s face, sweat slowly dripping down from his forehead. He could almost feel the grains of sand beneath his fingertips and hear the soothing melody of the ocean. 

A pile of books rest aside with a deckchair, with an umbrella standing to cover the books and the chair from the heat. 

They’re just sitting there… waiting for him to come. 

The burns seared into his body and mind, reality and dream blending in together. 

Everything feels blurry to him. 

A mess. 

A beautiful, chaotic mess. 

One that is about to reach its end, like a story. 

I’m tired… 

Yeah, I’m so tired… 

…I’ve done enough, haven’t I?

His body was like a ticking time bomb. His heart is still beating, pumping blood to get him going. His lungs heave up and down, making every oxygen flow into his body. 

Yet, his body is on the verge of ending it all. 

In front of Nanami, his eyes widened to see a familiar face, standing in front of him without his usual bright smile. 

“Haibara… What are you–” 

The boy with brown hair appeared in front of him, pointing to whoever is about to come behind him.  

“Nanamin…” He heard a familiar voice, yet this voice sounded more… grown, and shaky. 

And a tone of subtle despair. 

Nanami understood what Haibara wanted him to do. 

“Itadori-kun…” He couldn’t help but let out a smile. 

A smile of acceptance. 

He turns to the fifteen-year-old Itadori Yuji. With great effort, he summoned a weary smile. His lips curved upward, etching lines of a genuine smile, as if the smile itself carried a sense of peace instead of a curse. In that fleeting moment, his gaze bore into the soul of his student, imparting a final sentence for him. 

“I’ll leave the rest to you.” 

Like a fading ember, the warmth of his final smile lingered. His eyes closed in peaceful slumber, feeling a change in his body. 

His body was then splattered like a balloon, like bloody fireworks, marking the end of the first-grade sorcerer’s journey. All Itadori could see was his mentor’s body splattered to the ground, his weapon dropped to the floor with a clunking sound, the lower half of his body fell to his knees, and onto the ground with a splatter, blood coming out from his torso. 

To Itadori Yuji, his mentor’s last expression was a poignant reassurance, an acknowledgement that the time had come for him to step into this cruel world alone armed with the memories and lessons he had learned from Nanami Kento. 

Yet, with teary eyes, a bleeding scar on his face, and a knot formed in his throat, all Itadori Yuji could say was: 

“Nanamin…”

“I’m sorry… I should’ve come to you first…” 

“I’m… so sorry…” 

“I’ll make sure… to take all of your suffering onto me, Nanamin…” 

******

“What just… happened?” Nanami asks himself.

In the stillness of the night in Japan, Nanami’s body is drenched in a cold sweat that clung to his skin, his heart pounding in his ear. The bedroom was shrouded in darkness, the only light coming from the faint glow of the moon seeping through the window blinds. As he lay there, eyes still in a groggy state, the echoes of the dream– no, a nightmare, that still reverberated in his mind. 

“What… What was that dream?”

Next to him, the young five-year-old Itadori Yuji is peacefully sleeping in his bed, cuddling onto his tiger plush. His blanket had been tossed to the corner of the bed, mostly from Yuji’s rolling and fumbling in his sleep...

Full version down below!

[gnoccigon]

Leo Valdez Friends to Lovers headcanons asf 😍😍 pt. 1

i luv the idea of leo having a friends to lovers trope. like it’s so cutie and makes me feel safe ig idk bruh

okie anyway

yes this mans is constantly flirting w people and wants to be a PLAYAH, but his intentions were never rly serious (until he met u 😏)

cuz ya know, abandonment issues :(

from the first time he saw you, he thought you were incredibly pretty

Leo brain: new girl at camp… new girl cute… hope not Hephaestus kid… she smiled at me… *passes away*

but from then you’d hang out with piper a lot and leo would be loitering in your guys’s general vicinity, until eventually you were introduced by her

cuz of that you became friends quick, which he cherished and didn’t want to ruin by pursuing you

but i meannn, let the shameless flirting begin. yall would throw pick up lines back and forth like there is no tmrw

the more outrageous, the better.

but it was also a genuine friendship you guys created; as well as being very honest with each other

a genuine friendship full of THICK sexual tension and longing… but real nonetheless :D

imagine: one time you, leo and ur friends went swimming and were hanging out on the dock

people were running around and splashing in the water

you were sitting on the edge of the dock with leo. he was messing with a fishing pole, trying to make it automatic w whatever scraps he found lying around (lil genius mechanic) and you were j observing him

and gods, did he look good.

he was shirtless, and after spending all day in the sun he had a light bronze glow to his typical tan.

a few more freckles dusted his face and shoulders

and his curly hair, dried from sun and the sea salt, gave it this messy beach vibe. he was focused on his project, blessing his face with the cute concentration expression he makes whenever he is working.

there was no denying that you found him attractive, but in that moment; the mix of spending such a fun day with him, thinking about how much you like him as a person, and just looking at him shirtless–

it was like he was magnetic

“you look really good right now” you say out of the blue

despite him being focused on his fishing rod, he turned to look at you in surprise.

“what?” he said, not really comprehending your words.

“I saaaid you look really good right now.”

and for a few seconds, he just stared at you with his mouth agape.

“i- um… thank you?” he said, keeping his same shocked expression

you kind of broke him in that moment, he couldn’t process that you thought he looked good. he thinks you’re out of his league by miles (no bby ur gorgeous) and couldn’t 100% tell if you were making fun of him or not… buttt

“i’m just being honest you dingus” you said to him, laughing lightly

“your hair is extra curly right now, it’s cute.”

twirling a stray curl around your finger, giving him an adoring look

“welp, i’m gonna go grab a drink, brb” you say getting up and walking inside

Leo was left sitting on the dock, stunned and red from something else besides a sunburn.

piper: hey! earth to leoo, did you get sun poisoning or some shit? you’re all red

leo: …

piper: percy can u help me with this?

percy: i gotch u

*tsunami wave* -drenched asf leo

moving on…

you and leo would randomly say what’s on your mind

more time spent together, more small habits abt each other you would discover and treasure

at that point, leo couldn’t deny it anymore, he might have developed a lil crush on u (cough the bigggggest crush on u cough).

He didn't know how to go about it though, so of course he confided in piper.

“i mean at first i thought I just admired her as a friend yaknow? like a super sexy hot friend who i wanted to be with all the time, but keeping our relationship as just friends.

BUT NOW IDK WHAT TO DO I CANT TAKE IT ANYMORE SHES LITERALLY TOO PERFECT AND I WANNA BE MORE THAN FRIENDS. IM FREAKINGNOUT EVERYTIME I SEE HER SHES SO FREAKING CUTE AHHHHH” -leo

Piper listening, definitely finds this whole situation funny. you guys are so painfully obvious, but also so fucking oblivious at the same time.

but in response to leo’s rant: “leo, i know”

“omg how did you know!?” 😦😦 he says genuinely baffled.

but as they talk, he makes piper promise to keep it a secret, even though she tells him that you’re interested too and pretty much everyone can tell.

alas, leo does not want to ruin anything, and decides to suffer in silence and keep talking about you to piper.

[some-pers0n]

I'm in a bad writer's block right now, but! I'm trying to cook up something real soon. Here's the first little bit of a new fic of mine I've got in the works. Take four guesses as to what it's about. Winner gets to eat bricks.

Oh and also small Turtbli moment happens if you like Gay Dragons.

The Island Palace was quite possibly the last place Turtle wanted to visit. Why would he? It remains as a scar on Pyrrhia, a reminder of the dangerous potential of animus magic. A stain on the Sea Kingdom's history of what happens when animus magic goes unchecked.

Albatross was not a dragon Fathom wanted to be. A mad dragon. A terrifying murderer. An animus who could not control his own magic. Simply thinking about him made his stomach churn. Knowing that it was a possibility he could end up like Albatross horrified him. He would be better than that monster.

So, hearing that the Jade Winglet wanted to spend a night at the Island Palace was definitely something he was not interested in doing.

Unfortunately, Qibli and Kinkajou were firm in this decision.

"Oh come on," Qibli said, "it's only one night!"

"We shouldn't...be here." Turtle mumbled. "Isn't this disrespectful? I mean, we are just going to run around in a place where so...so many dragons lost their lives."

"And? It's not like they're alive to see it. They've been dead for a long, long, LONG time," Kinkajou called out. "Who cares? It's going to be fun! Trust us."

"It's supposed to be scary anyways. It's Faust's Hallow. Wouldn't it be a little fun to spend it at some creepy old palace? We rarely get together nowadays, and besides, didn't Queen Coral give us permission for this? Turtle, this is our one chance!"

Turtle reluctantly looked at her, sighing. "If you say so..."

He was never fond of Faust's Hallow. It was a biannual "celebration" of one of the forgotten brother of Imperial, Oracle, and Perception. As the NightWing legend goes, while the other dragons ascended into the night sky to become the moons, Faust remained. He was tied to the world with his earthly connections. Thus, becoming the first-ever spirit. It was the basis for SandWing spirituality, so to say that Qibli was interested in it was most definitely an understatement.

Turtle on the other talon? Well, all he could think about was death and horror. His older brothers took joy in dressing up as ghosts and scaring the living daylights out of the younger ones. Not to also mention the constant imagery of skeletons and mourning, with Coral always having a memorial for her lost daughters.

Then, of course, Albatross himself. The reason they were coming here. A legend was that Albatross's spirit had never passed on. That his soul remained at the Island Palace, restless and still just as mad as the day he died. There had been stories of overly curious and confident dragonets running home after an encounter with Albatross at the Island Palace. But, those were just silly rumors. Little myths. Th- that's what it is.

Albatross wasn't there. How could he be? Well, the story of Faust was based on him wandering the continent for eternity. Perhaps, maybe- no. It's a made up story. Turtle wasn't going to fall for some sort of story his brothers would tell to scare him. He already had enough sleepless nights, filled with anxiety and worry over the concept of Albatross still being around.

He's not. He's dead. This was just going to be a nice, if a bit restless, night out in the ruins of the abandoned Island Palace. He will not be scared.

They touched down onto the beach around it. If Turtle remembered correctly, this was the Sunrise Beach. It was empty, completely devoid of any sort of life. The palace in front of them was crumbling and tattered. The lavish white walls were discoloured and washed out from weathering an impossible amount of storms. It was covered in moss and sea flora, with barnacles growing on the base of the palace. The light of the setting sun basked the palace in an ominous glow of oranges and purples.

A deep, horrible feeling persisted within Turtle. It made him aware of the light sensation in his claws. The tiny burning from within. Only a little ways away, tragedy had taken place. Two thousand years ago, Albatross, his own great-grandfather, slaughtered twenty dragons. He caries the same power he does. Even right now, he could kill all of his friends. One stray thought and who knows what would happen.

"Well, don't just stand there!" Kinkajou bounced ahead. "We've got a whole palace to explore! I call looking on the upper floors with Moon!"

"Wh- me? Uh...okay then?" She stepped forward, following after her. "See you, I guess?" She waved to Qibli and Turtle before disappearing off into the courtyard.

"So, that just leaves me and you." Qibli rested his wing on Turtle, pulling him closer.

"Hurray..."

"Where you wanna go? If they're going up, let's check out the ground floor. Gardens. See some cool old statues that've been crumbling from age."

"What fun..."

Qibli frowned. "Hey, look. I know you're a bit freaked out. You didn't really want to come here. I'm sorry for dragging you along. But, I promise it'll be fun! There's nothing here to hurt any of us. Even if Albatross is still floating around somewhere, I'll be there protecting all of you." He raised his tail, showing off his obsidian-black barb.

Turtle awkwardly chuckled. "I don't think you can really stab a spirit."

"Are you saying I've never fought a spirit before?" the SandWing grinned confidently. "I'll have you know that, as Queen Thorn's personal guard and adoptive son, I had to fend off armies of spirits. Vengeful ghosts of dragons. Such is the way of being queen, I suppose. Anyways, I just need to fight them. Give them the ol' one-two. Beat 'em off with a stick." He swung his arm, mimicking hitting something.

He laughed, feeling his anxieties melt away. Qibli looked back at him, a soft, genuine smile on his face. "Feel a bit better?" He patted him on the back. "Right, let's go exploring."

[blookmallow]

some further fallout 4 adventures

uh oh

aBORT MISSION

boy something sure happened in there

accidentally walked in on carrington and his boyfriend

inspiring

what in the jeffrey dahmer

sniffs. i love you strong

for the love of god montressor

your customers are dead, sir

also i briefly confused myself with this screenshot i forgot what was happening here and thought that lamp was like. a mustache. i think there should be mr. handys with mustaches

what a deal

i do love this (mostly) abandoned bowling alley though

this guy loved his nuka stuff so much... i usually collect those but i couldn't bring myself to take that truck away from him

shout out to this cow just. standing on everybody

i think this was. in the asylum? how did this guy die like this. he made it all the way through the wall and then just stayed there forever

love whatever the hell these guys were talking about

these are old now, there's more stuff on them now, but anyway heres some of my Stuff Collections. i collect everything. im completely obsessed with organizing my little things and fallout 4 enables me so hard

this is so DUMB sdgkjgs

i had her wear a face mask bc it seemed ridiculous that no one in goodneighbor would just. immediately recognize her. because she is wearing A Hat. i know this doesn't actually affect characters' ability to recognize you but it made me feel better about it

i dont really remember this bit all that well im going through screenshots fuckign Months later but im pretty sure i hadn't really talked to hancock much/hadn't figured out how to get him as a companion yet so the fact that. this. was one of his first interactions with ruby and then ends up dating her later is Really Funny dsfjlk

though now that i think about it the silver shroud questline is almost a direct parallel to hancock. you find the long abandoned clothes of A Heroic Figure that makes you look kind of ridiculous but also feel really cool and you decide to own that role like it's your own personal calling. i wonder if that was intentional. i don't remember how hancock responds to you in this scenario where he doesn't really know you yet but i remember i felt like the vibe was "what's THIS joker doing" and i found out later doing it again on another file with him as a companion he actually loves it. i remember getting a "hancock loved that" for threatening the big boss guy at the end in the shroud voice. anyway i lost the thread of what i was saying. i think my point is i love hancock

YES

spooky

i feel threatened

yes... YES..........

THIS is what im HERE for THIS is a goddamn nuclear WASTELAND

the glowing sea is so fucking cool. i wish it was even harsher though i feel like just some rad-x is enough to get by pretty easily i wanted it to feel like dragging yourself through hell

i have no IDEA where this was or what the fuck happened here

i love you deacon i would die for you