#nug shot

[too-many-lavellans]

To the best of siblings and friends, Happy Birthday to @demi-pixellated!🍰☕

[stoned-btw]

ive got like 7 strains in the house rn 😅. ooohhh and i got some bubble hash 😎

[hvackisser]

Hi it's one of those really early mornings again and I'm on the bus so I'm gonna share this pic of Anakin cause it fucking KILLS me for some reason 😂😂😂

I showed it to my partner and they said "what the waitress sees when she brings my chicken nuggies" and YEAH THATS THE VIBE HERE

[wonda-ch]

Next bunch of Veilguard details.

[fenharelapproves]

I don't like sharing screenshots of my DAI pt bc Gen doesn't look like herself to me anymore (I'm itching to replay and resculpt her) but some of these are so 💖💖💖💖💖💖💖💖💖💖

she was almost trevelyan too can you believe that what was i thinking

this was i think my very second time in the cc with her purely going off vibes

[sh4nksslvt]

Smoke Break

A collection of fiery, smoky encounters where passion burns as hot as the cigars and blunts exchanged between you and some of the world’s most dangerous daddies i mean men — every kiss laced with smoke, heat, and unspoken desire.

Benn beckman x reader x sanji x smoker x crocodile | ONE SHOT

Tags: fluff, flirty, smok!ng, w3ed mentions, blvnt smok!ng, cigarette smok!n, mouth-to-mouth sm0ke sharing, minor spit description, light nsfw tension

a/n: this js me trying to write ffs, this is experimental and for fun only so expect this ff cringe and oc

word count: 3.3k

MINORS DNI!!

masterlist | ko-fi

: 𓏲🐋 ๋࣭  ࣪ ˖✩࿐࿔ 🌊

Is it hot in here or is it just me?

I'm so high in here, been smokin' on this weed

Only drug a bitch is on is the tree

But I lasted ten rounds like a freak

Like a G

Benn Beckman

The deck still stank of gunpowder and sea salt by the time you slumped onto the steps leading up to the helm, boots heavy with exhaustion. Your knuckles throbbed from the earlier brawl with some no-name pirate crew dumb enough to pick a fight with the Red Hair Pirates. You won, obviously—but victory didn’t erase the tight coil of stress still buzzing under your skin.

You dragged your hood up over your head, shielding your face from the low sun. Hands steady, you pulled out a battered little tin from your pocket, the familiar ritual already soothing your frayed nerves. You broke down the nug slowly, fingers working with careful, practiced motions. You barely even registered the distant sound of boots approaching.

Benn Beckman stopped a few feet away, cigarette halfway to his lips, brows lifting slightly at the sight of you hunched over the tray.

He leaned against the rail, arms crossed.

"Rough day?" he drawled.

You didn’t look up right away, just finished rolling your blunt with a lazy flick of your thumb. When you finally glanced his way, your gaze was cool, detached—like you were sizing him up and decided he wasn’t worth worrying about.

"Nothing a smoke can't fix," you muttered, voice low and even.

Benn whistled low under his breath, impressed.

"Didn't think you were the type to roll your own medicine."

You snorted, lighting the blunt with a snap of your lighter.

"Cigs are for rookies," you said, plucking the cigarette from his fingers without asking. You tucked the blunt between his lips instead, your touch casual, intimate.

Benn played along, inhaling deep. His eyes hooded slightly as the taste hit him—stronger, sweeter than he expected.

"Holy shit," he coughed out, laughing.

You took the blunt back from him with two fingers, tapping it lightly against the railing.

"Too much for you, old man?" you teased, the faintest smirk curling at the edges of your mouth.

He chuckled, a low, rich sound that vibrated in his chest.

"Old enough to know better. Dumb enough not to care."

You offered the blunt again—not by hand this time, but by leaning in, smoke trailing from your lips in a lazy, tantalizing swirl. Benn caught on quick, closing the small distance between you. His mouth brushed yours just enough to catch the exhale directly, smoke passing from your tongue to his.

The heat flared instantly.

Before you could pull back, he tilted his head slightly, deepening it into a kiss—slow, languid, tasting of smoke and adrenaline. His hand found your jaw, rough thumb grazing your cheekbone with a kind of reverence that didn’t match how fucking cocky he was about it.

When you finally parted, a thin, silver thread of spit clung stubbornly between your tongues until it snapped, leaving a hot smear of want in its wake.

You sat back, lazily dragging the blunt between your lips again. Your expression barely shifted—still that same unreadable cool—but your hooded eyes glittered with something dangerous, something alive.

Benn wiped the back of his hand across his mouth, grinning like he just won the biggest prize in the world.

"You always this generous after a fight?" he asked, voice low and rough.

You exhaled slow, letting the smoke roll between you both like a secret.

"Depends who's asking."

Benn’s grin widened, cigarette long forgotten at his side.

"Good," he said, leaning in close enough that you could smell the faint whiskey on his breath.

"'Cause I’m not planning on being just a one-time habit."

Sanji

The galley was quiet at night, all the chaos of the day gone still. It was your favorite time—when the ship seemed to breathe slow and easy, and nobody was around to bother you.

You sat perched on the counter, blunt half-rolled between your fingers, working fast but precise. You glanced around — no way in hell you could borrow a lighter from anyone without exposing your little habit.

Of course you didn’t bring yours. Of course.

You sighed through your nose and hopped down from the counter, moving toward the stovetop. You twisted the burner’s dial, letting a tall flame lick up from the gas, the soft click click whoosh breaking the silence.

You leaned into the flame, lighting the tip of your blunt directly against it, shielding it with one hand like an old habit.

That’s when you heard a low whistle behind you.

"You know," Sanji’s voice drawled from the doorway, lazy and amused, "most people come to the kitchen for food. Not... that."

You turned slightly, the blunt between your lips, glowing softly as you took your first pull. You held his gaze through the smoke, your expression unreadable, unbothered.

"Guess I’m not most people," you said coolly, exhaling a slow, thick ribbon of smoke into the low light.

Sanji didn’t flinch. Didn't fawn.

Instead, he grinned, a slow, dangerous curve of his mouth as he stepped into the kitchen, cigarette tucked behind his ear, hands sliding easily into his pockets.

"You could've just asked for a light," he teased, voice like silk and heat. "I would've given it to you. Anything you want."

You shrugged one shoulder, casual.

"Not exactly advertising my hobbies."

Sanji stopped a few feet away, head tilting just slightly, studying you. You could feel the weight of his gaze — not heavy, not invasive — just... there, like a hand trailing just over your skin without touching.

"You're full of surprises," he murmured, voice dipping lower.

You took another hit, slow and deliberate, letting the thick taste settle on your tongue. As you exhaled, Sanji moved closer, crossing into your space so naturally it felt like gravity.

"Mind if I...?" he asked, eyes dropping to the blunt between your fingers.

You raised an eyebrow but didn’t answer with words. Instead, you leaned forward slightly, parting your lips just enough to offer the smoke right to him.

Sanji caught the game instantly.

He plucked the cigarette from behind his ear and set it on the counter. Then he leaned in, mouth brushing dangerously close to yours—not kissing, not yet—and drew the smoke straight from your mouth with a slow, deep inhale.

His hand came up to cradle the back of your neck, thumb brushing the warm skin behind your ear.

When he exhaled, it was right against your lips, warm and intoxicating.

The space between you crackled.

You barely had time to process before he closed the gap completely, his mouth pressing to yours in a kiss that was all slow burn, all slow claiming. His grip tightened just a little, guiding you against the counter behind you without force—just the kind of confident pressure that made your stomach flip.

You kissed him back, matching his heat with your own, the taste of smoke and fire mixing between your tongues. When you finally parted, a thin, sticky thread of spit clung between you, snapping when you tilted your head back, breathless but still wearing that same cool smirk.

Sanji stayed close, his forehead brushing against yours, his fingers still tangled loosely in your hair.

"You," he said, voice low and warm, "are way too dangerous to be left alone in my kitchen."

You chuckled, flicking ash into the sink.

"Then don’t leave," you said, voice lazy, teasing.

Sanji smiled against your cheek, teeth just grazing your skin as he whispered,

"Wasn't planning to."

And from the way his hand slid down to your hip, you knew he meant it.

Smoker

The port was busy, noisy, and reeking of salt and sweat.

Perfect place to disappear for a while.

You slipped between two battered brick buildings, finding a patch of shade away from the main street. No patrols, no Marines. Just the low hum of the sea and the sharp scratch of your lighter as you tried, once, twice — and cursed under your breath.

Dead. Perfect.

You rolled the unlit blunt between your fingers, considering your options. Borrowing a lighter wasn’t on the table — too many judging eyes. Especially for someone like you, already treading too close to the Navy's leash.

"Problem?"

The deep, rough voice made you freeze. A shadow stretched into the alley. You didn’t even have to look up to know who it was.

Vice-Admiral Smoker stepped into view, coat draped over his broad shoulders, two cigars clamped between his teeth, smoke curling around his head like a storm cloud.

You gave him a flat look, the blunt dangling lazily from your lips.

"No lighter," you said simply.

Smoker snorted, amused in that dry, almost imperceptible way of his. He pulled one cigar free and tucked it into his coat, flicking his silver lighter open with a smooth motion.

He lit his remaining cigar, took a deep drag — and then, without saying a word, held the lighter out to you.

You raised an eyebrow but leaned forward, cupping a hand around the flame as you lit the blunt, your face close enough to his chest that you could smell the faint scent of smoke, leather, and something warmer underneath.

You inhaled slow, savoring the first pull, then leaned back against the rough brick wall with a sigh.

"Didn't peg you for the sharing type," you said, smoke curling from your mouth.

Smoker grunted, replacing the cigar between his lips.

"Don't make me regret it," he said, but there was no real bite in his voice.

For a moment, you just stood there, passing slow, lazy pulls between you. The world outside the alley blurred into meaningless noise.

Then, bold from the buzz creeping in your veins, you leaned forward again—holding the blunt between your fingers—and offered the smoke directly to him, a silent challenge.

Smoker’s gaze sharpened slightly, amused. He plucked the cigar from his mouth and stepped into your space, his broad chest almost brushing yours.

Without hesitation, he caught the smoke straight from your lips, leaning in so close you could feel the heat of him — and then, instead of pulling back, he kissed you.

It was rough at first, full of the same heat and tension that always seemed to spark between you. His hand came up to cradle your jaw, fingers pressing firmly as he tilted your head back just slightly.

You opened for him without thinking, the kiss deepening into something slower, hotter — tongues brushing, breath hitching between you. His mouth tasted of smoke and salt and something that was just him.

The world outside the alley dissolved entirely.

When he finally pulled back, it wasn’t messy — just breathless, lingering. His forehead rested against yours, both of you catching your breath in the haze of smoke curling between you.

"You," he muttered, voice low and thick, "are nothing but bad news."

You smirked against his lips, your hands still fisted loosely in the fabric of his coat.

"Good thing you’re terrible at saying no," you murmured.

Smoker let out a rough, half-laugh, half-growl, and kissed you again—deeper, slower, like he had no plans to stop this time.

And honestly, neither did you.

You barely had time to settle into the heat of Smoker’s mouth again, the slow grind of his body pressing yours back against the brick wall, when—

"S-smoker-san?!"

The sharp voice cracked through the alley like a gunshot.

Both of you froze.

Smoker broke the kiss with a low, almost feral growl under his breath, his hand still curled possessively around your waist.

You cracked one eye open lazily, barely lifting your head from Smoker’s shoulder to glance toward the entrance of the alley.

Tashigi stood there, sword awkwardly bumping against her hip, her entire face rapidly turning the color of a boiled lobster.

"I— I— I was looking for you to discuss patrol routes— but I can—! I can come back later!" she sputtered, already halfway turning on her heel, practically tripping over herself to get away.

Smoker let out a long, slow exhale through his nose, the kind of breath that usually meant someone was about to get absolutely wrecked—but he didn’t move away from you. His hand stayed right where it was, fingers still flexing slightly against your hip.

"You’d better," he said, loud enough for Tashigi to hear as she fled back into the chaos of the port.

You couldn't help it—you laughed. A low, smoky sound that vibrated against his chest.

"Think we traumatized her," you said, voice rough with amusement.

Smoker shot you a sideways glare, but there was no real fire behind it. If anything, he looked... pleased. Dangerous. Like a man who didn’t give a damn who saw what he wanted.

"Serves her right for barging in without knocking," he muttered, gruff.

You arched a brow, grinning lazily up at him.

"Maybe you should install a door in your alleys."

Smoker huffed a laugh — a real one, low and brief — and bent to kiss you again, less careful this time. Hotter, a little messier. His free hand finally dropped the half-burned cigar, grinding it under his boot as he pressed you back into the wall, fully claiming your mouth again like he had all the time in the world.

And honestly, for once, you hoped he did.

Crocodile

The lounge was dim, soaked in the kind of golden light that made everything seem a little more expensive than it probably was.

Low jazz music played from hidden speakers, and the soft clink of chips and whiskey glasses filled the background.

You slouched lazily in a velvet armchair near the back, rolling the blunt between your fingers, cool and unbothered. No one really noticed you here — not with the heavyweights and high-rollers stealing the spotlight.

But, of course, he noticed.

You felt it before you saw him — a shift in the room’s atmosphere, a change in the way conversations dropped to murmurs.

Crocodile’s presence was like a thundercloud creeping over sunny skies.

You kept your expression blank, indifferent, even as you realized your lighter was nowhere to be found.

Perfect.

Exactly what you needed.

You sighed, the blunt sitting unlit between your lips, considering your next move.

A shadow fell across your table. You didn’t bother looking up.

"Need something?" Crocodile’s voice rumbled, amused.

You tilted your head slightly, fixing him with a bored stare, the blunt still balanced at the corner of your mouth.

"Seems I’m short a flame," you said, voice dry.

Crocodile’s lips curled around his cigar, eyes gleaming with something sharp and entertained.

He didn’t say a word.

Instead, he bent slightly at the waist — slow, deliberate — bringing the burning tip of his cigar close to the end of your blunt.

Too close.

He stopped just shy, forcing you to lean in to meet him.

You exhaled through your nose, slow and steady, and leaned forward, lips brushing barely near his cigar, lighting your own off the glowing ember. The flame caught with a faint crackle, a tiny hiss.

The whole time, Crocodile didn’t move an inch.

The smell of smoke, expensive leather, and something faintly spiced wrapped around you like a second skin.

You leaned back into your chair, taking a long, slow pull from the newly lit blunt. The first hit bloomed warm in your lungs. You exhaled lazily toward the ceiling, your eyes half-lidded.

"You're welcome," Crocodile said, voice dripping with dry amusement, straightening to his full height.

You tapped ash into a crystal ashtray nearby without even glancing at him.

"Didn’t say thank you," you replied coolly.

He chuckled — a low, dangerous sound that vibrated in the base of his chest.

"Didn't expect you to."

For a moment, neither of you said anything. The tension crackled softly between you, thick and slow, like molasses dripping from a knife.

Crocodile shifted, the gold of his rings catching the low light as he pulled a chair up to yours — close enough that his knee brushed yours under the table.

Deliberate.

Territorial.

"You planning to cause trouble tonight?" he asked, cigar smoke curling lazily around his words.

You blew out another cloud of smoke, just as lazy, just as unbothered.

"Depends," you murmured, voice low. "You planning to stop me?"

Crocodile smirked around his cigar, eyes gleaming with something dark and hungry.

"Not tonight."

He sat back, perfectly relaxed, the image of a king amused by the antics of his favorite piece.

You could feel his eyes on you as you smoked, weighing every slow drag, every lazy exhale.

Watching.

Waiting.

The house always won in places like this.

And tonight, it was clear you weren’t going anywhere.

The minutes slipped by in a slow, heavy haze.

The blunt burned low between your fingers, each drag slower than the last. Across the small table, Crocodile watched you like a predator sizing up easy prey — not rushing, not moving, just waiting for the exact right moment.

You met his gaze through the rising smoke, your face blank, but your heart starting to thrum a little harder behind your ribs.

He shifted finally, leaning forward slightly, elbows braced on his knees. The gold of his rings caught the light again, flashing like a warning.

"Come here," he said lowly, almost conversational, like you were a thing he fully expected to obey.

You didn't move immediately. You took another lazy pull from your blunt instead, blowing the smoke off to the side with a small smirk. Testing him. Pushing.

Crocodile huffed a small laugh under his breath, all amusement gone razor sharp.

Without warning, he reached across the table, hand catching you by the wrist — not rough, but firm, dragging you forward until you were pulled out of your chair and into his space.

The blunt dangled forgotten from your fingers as he leaned in — close enough that you could see the faint scar cutting across his face, the glint of amusement and warning in his heavy-lidded eyes.

He reached up with two fingers, plucking the blunt casually from your grip and setting it in the ashtray with a careless flick.

"You’re slow," he murmured, voice like warm gravel. "Let me show you how it's done."

You barely had time to process it before Crocodile’s lips crashed into yours.

It was rough — like he was making a point. His mouth devoured yours with an intensity that was unexpected, yet exactly what you needed. His cigar still burned between his fingers, and before you even had the chance to think about it, he tilted the cigar toward your lips, offering the smoke as you kissed.

The warm, glowing tip of the cigar hovered near your mouth, and you instinctively opened up, taking in the deep, spicy taste as you inhaled. The heat of it filled your lungs, mixing with the taste of Crocodile’s kiss — rich, dangerous, intoxicating.

You pulled back just a bit, lips brushing against his, then exhaled slowly, the smoke curling out from your mouth and into his.

Without breaking eye contact, Crocodile inhaled the smoke you gave him, his gaze darkening as he held it in for a beat, then exhaled it slowly, sending it back toward you.

The air was thick now, saturated with smoke and the lingering taste of him. Every breath felt like it stretched the moment, making it last forever, and yet, you knew it was only a brief exchange.

When he pulled away, his lips were curved into that same smug, dangerous smirk.

"Better," he muttered, voice rough with satisfaction. "Now you’re getting it."

You smirked back, though your chest felt a little tighter than it had before.

"You’re insufferable," you said, the words coming out softer than you intended, but your heart was still racing in your chest.

Crocodile chuckled low, the sound like a dangerous promise.

"Only when it suits me," he said, leaning back in his chair and taking another slow drag from his cigar. He didn’t look at you directly but you could feel the weight of his gaze on your lips. "You’ll learn, eventually. That’s how the game is played."

You stayed there, breathless and still, as the tension simmered between you.

The house always won.

And tonight, you were playing Crocodile's game

[totallynotslothhh]

HARD PERCEPTIONS

pairing: joost klein x fem!reader

word count: 4,054

warning: smoking weed, friends to lovers, smut, fingering, lot of fluff, dirty talking, unprotected sex, cum inside

description: Is it really possible to be so clueless that you don’t realize your best friend likes you? Apparently, yes.

author’s note: I just got a sudden wave of motivation because I listened to a song, so of course my hopeless romantic side had to come out somehow. So here’s a little one-shot with lots and lots of plot and sweetness. Thank you for all the support I’ve been getting on my other works, I love you all 😭 and AS SOON AS THIS DAMN PIERCING HEALS I promise I’ll write that one-shot for you freaky gooners. Enjoy the read!

big kisses!

(sorry if there are grammatical errors, I tried my best, English is not my first language!!!🙏)

——————————————————————

The cool breeze brushing against my skin made me shiver from the temperature difference on my sunburnt skin. I had been under the sun all day, and now, under the orange streaks of sunset and the distant shadow of the moon, my skin welcomed the pleasant chills. I’d spent nearly the whole day at the beach with my best friend, Joost.

Of course, like two idiots, out of 12 hours in the sun, we remembered to put on sunscreen only twice. It wasn’t a disaster, but his skin, more sensitive than mine, was clearly more affected. It was kind of funny how he would randomly curse under his breath every time his red arm brushed against something.

Now we were lying in a field; not just any field, but the field we’d escaped to since high school to smoke weed, talk about music, reptilian governors, alien invasions, dreams, wishes.

It was the place we ran to when the pressure of simply being alive became too much.

The one thing I truly felt lucky about was ending up in his class when I was thirteen.

How was it possible that two souls so alike had never met before? We shared the same perceptions, the same passions, the same thoughts -borderline clinical, really. Sometimes I felt like he was the only one who could understand me. Really understand me.

“You brought it, right?” The laid back, half-doubtful tone of the bleached blond’s voice hit my ears and made me lazily open my eyes.

We were lying on a beach towel big enough to fit at least two more people. Our shoes were carelessly abandoned in a corner, and his shoulder bag was resting beside my backpack. We were pretty close: he was lying with his hands behind his head, legs crossed, radiating a kind of bliss. He still wore his swim trunks under a pair of black shorts and a plain, light white polo shirt. His hair was a mess; he had recently bleached it again and reshaved the back.

I’d be lying if I said he didn’t look good.

“I’ll check” I replied softly, suppressing a sigh as I sat up. I crossed my legs and leaned toward my backpack, rummaging inside while glancing over at Joost, whose eyes were fixed on my face; probably trying to see if I had brought the weed.

As if I’d ever forget it at home. Obviously not.

“Should I roll it now?” I asked, my hand paused inside the bag after grabbing the little green nug sealed in a plastic baggie.

“If you want” he replied, his tone somewhere between wanting to smoke and not caring when it happened. He knew we were going to smoke regardless. So, I made the call.

I pulled out the baggie, the grinder, and a crumpled pack of Camel Blues hidden in the dark corner of my backpack. A soft chuckle escaped him, which automatically made me smile.

What an idiot. He wanted to smoke just as much as I did; he was just playing coy.

I placed everything on the towel in front of me and brought the cigarette to my lips, dragging my wet tongue along the paper to weaken it and make it easier to break. As soon as the bitter taste hit my tongue, I looked up: he was already watching me. He’d been watching me for a while.

His gaze wasn’t heavy, nor was it suggestive, it never had been. It was just impossible to decipher, and yet comforting. The storm within those blue irises, his small eyes, those pale lashes… it was all impossible to make sense of, to label. And that’s what made it beautiful.

I saw him sit up, his weight supported by his arms behind him. I turned my attention back to the little blue and purple silicone grinder in my hands. I dropped some tobacco in it, set aside the filter from the cigarette, then grabbed the bud; just enough to make sure we’d feel the effects.

“You staying over tonight?” Lately, that had become a pretty common question. He’d just broken up with his latest girlfriend and had taken it hard at first.

The sleepless nights talking, either on the phone or over tiny cups of coffee and an overflowing ashtray, were too many to count. I’d seen him wrecked, his dark circles doubled, his mood like that of a stray dog. And even though he said he’d been the one to end it, it still hit him hard.

“Mhm, yeah. Sure” I answered immediately, while my fingers worked to mix the heavenly substance with the tobacco. I’d be lying again if I said I didn’t like it, that it didn’t affect me, that my body felt nothing whenever he hugged me, touched me, looked at me. I’d be lying if I said there wasn’t a fluttering low in my belly, or that the smile on my face didn’t come naturally every time we joked around.

For years I’d convinced myself I didn’t like him, but the truth was that I probably had a crush on him.

A massive one. While he was still dating someone else.

I never even had the courage to admit it to myself, let alone to him.

“Why? Didn’t you sleep last night?” I asked, lifting my eyes to him and catching his face turned upwards, eyes closed, the first button of his polo undone. He looked almost ethereal: the curve of his nose, his neck, his lips, the closed eye, those blond lashes resting gently on his cheek, and his fringe shifting with the light breeze.

I quickly looked back at the grinder, trying to avoid the increasingly intense blush spreading across my face.

“Yeah… but not really. I sleep better when I’m with you.” His warm hand landed on my knee unexpectedly as he leaned in to see what I was doing. It was a routine he’d seen a thousand times, yet it always seemed to fascinate him. I looked up at him, and a strange heat bloomed in my chest.

“Instead of talking nonsense, can you just pass me the Rizlas and filters?” I chuckled, which caught his attention and sparked a kind of playful challenge in him. Before pulling away to get what I’d asked for, he gently pinched my cheek with two fingers. I pulled back with a fake sigh.

“Why? Are you embarrassed?” he teased, clearly joking even as he dug around my now half empty backpack with indie vibe. He grabbed the Rizlas and a filter, then looked back at me, his expression somewhere between amused and teasing, before handing them over.

“I’m not embarrassed” I answered firmly, even though there was nothing firm about my tone. My gaze dropped and the smile I couldn’t wipe off my face gave me away. I heard a low hum and caught him in my peripheral vision as he slumped down again. He rested his head on my bare thigh; since I was still in my bikini, with a light blue shirt worn as a cover-up, slipping off one shoulder and exposing my legs.

“You always are” he murmured, his voice brushing against my skin, the faint scruff on his upper lip lightly scratching my thigh. His arms wrapped gently around my waist, shifting the shirt as they moved.

His hands found their place against my skin, warm and steady, igniting a fire inside me that his touch only made worse.

I couldn’t help but think: he knew. He knew the effect he had on me.

“That’s not true” I replied, defensively, as I grabbed a piece of cardboard and rolled it into a filter, placing it on the Rizla I then filled with the grinder’s contents. His fingers moved along my skin and I arched slightly, letting out a frustrated sound at the distraction.

“Stop it, Joost, come on” I said, shifting my hips a little to keep the joint from falling apart. I wrapped and sealed it with a swipe of my tongue and pressed the edges to make sure it stuck.

“Boring” he muttered, even more teasing than before and rested his hands firmly around my waist again. I held my breath until everything was ready.

He watched me: my hands, my leg.. lazily but intently. And honestly, I would’ve let him look at me like that in any other situation too.

He had really gotten comfortable: head resting on my thigh, hands around my waist, his legs mirroring the way I sat, and his polo slightly lifted at the back, revealing a sliver of pale skin to the gentle breeze.

“I rolled it” I said, placing the joint between my lips and grabbing the lighter from inside the cigarette pack. I felt him nod, his hair brushing against my skin and sending another wave of chills across my body.

I cupped the flame and lit the joint, taking a small drag and exhaling through my nose. Then I took a longer hit, letting the dense smoke fill my lungs. He groaned slightly as he sat up, bringing his face close to mine, eyes locked on the joint, silently asking to take a hit.

I held it out to him, watching as his lips wrapped around the paper. His eyes met mine -again.

We were dangerously close, just a few centimeters apart. His hands on the ground but aligned with my hips, like they were ready to grab me again. His gaze locked on mine, his body leaning in.

He took three hits, exhaling the smoke through his nose; except for the last one, which he blew directly into my face.

I let out a laugh, pulling away and breaking eye contact before it dragged me under again.

“You’re really pretty.” Those words, spoken so nonchalantly, so sincerely and lightly, were enough to make my chest tighten and bring a new shade to my cheeks, quite different from my natural skin tone. I turned my head toward the field, the usual little smile still playing on my lips as I took another drag and when he saw my reaction, a soft laugh escaped him.

He leaned back against me again, his arms wrapping around my body once more, and for the entire time we smoked, he decided it was comfy enough to make me hold the joint for both of us. It was awkward, funny, but above all, divinely familiar.

I mirrored his previous posture, with the only difference being that I used one free hand behind me to support myself. I could feel the effects start to settle in: my eyelids getting heavier, my thoughts beginning to blur into one another, and a blissful sensation accompanied by the loud thud of my heartbeat echoing in my ears. It wasn’t like the first few times anymore, my body had gotten used to the substance, but those first minutes always sent me straight to heaven.

I had almost forgotten about Joost, maybe because he had shifted away from me.

I opened my eyes again and turned my dilated pupils toward his figure lying next to me and like before, he was already watching me. I playfully placed a hand over his face, trying to block his eyes, just as I brought the joint back to my lips for one of the last hits.

“You scared of my stare or something?” And at that moment, it was like only his voice existed for my ears. Nothing else mattered. That soft, kind, warm voice, dripping with teasing, drowned everything else out.

“Hm?” he finished with a little laugh, grabbing my wrist with his hand and slowly guiding my palm down to his lips. My eyes were drawn to his movements. When he began placing soft kisses right there on that part of my body; never once looking away, I didn’t move a single inch.

I didn’t look away, like that moment was the only image in existence.

His lips wandered, staying in the same area, leaving sweet kisses from my palm down to my sensitive wrist.

“I’m not scared of your stare, it’s just that…” I murmured, slowly pulling my hand back with a sigh, suddenly feeling frustrated.

Why was he acting like this? It bothered me not being able to react, not being able to give in or respond.

It bothered me that he was doing all these innocent but easily misunderstood things.

“It’s just that…?” he whispered as he sat back up. He reached out his hand toward me, and I passed him the half smoked joint, doing everything I could to avoid the eye contact I’d been so addicted to just moments ago. I took a deep breath, the cool air rushing into my lungs almost jolting me out of the daze I was in.

“It’s just that you do it on purpose. You mess with me, and I never know how to react when you’re like this.” I didn’t mean to, but my tone came out especially pouty. My lips naturally curved downward, and my eyes traced the crumpled edges of the towel like I needed the distraction.

It felt like I was confessing my feelings, like I was laying myself bare while my brain was moving in slow motion. Like maybe… it was time.

But I didn’t want to ruin anything with him.

When he didn’t respond, I turned my attention to him. Strangely, he was staring at the joint, letting it burn out passively in the open air. His expression was thoughtful, like my words had flipped a switch in his head.

But I didn’t want that either.

I placed a hand on his shoulder, biting down gently on my lower lip as I looked at him: to check if everything was okay, if I hadn’t broken something between us.

“I mean, it’s just that-”

“I like you.” I didn’t get to finish my sentence. My brain completely short-circuited the moment those words left his mouth.

What?

He looked at me for a few seconds, like he was trying to find some kind of explanation in my frozen expression. His eyes dropped from mine to my lips, slightly parted without me even noticing. I licked them, watching as he swallowed a nonexistent lump in his throat that felt too real to ignore.

“I like you, y/n. Why do you think I suddenly broke up with my ex out of nowhere? It hurt too much to keep you in my heart and not be able to do anything about it… I can’t keep pretending you’re not driving me insane.”

My brain took its time to process that, so much so that I didn’t even manage to make sense of the order of his words before our lips collided. My body moved before my thoughts did.

I didn’t kiss him softly.. God, no. I captured his lips in an urgent kiss, one overflowing with all the repressed feelings that had finally been given permission to come to light. I climbed into his lap, his hands gripping my bare thighs that were now parted against him. I cupped his face, savoring the sensation of his wet tongue moving sloppily against mine for the first time.

I could feel his breath on my skin, his groans against my lips. I finally got to taste what it was like to have him crushed against me.

And we kissed; for moments, for heartbeats, for what felt like entire minutes, just basking in the overwhelming realization that we belonged to each other.

The burning end of the joint held between Joost’s fingers brushed against my skin, and that alone made me break away from his mouth. A small whimper of pain escaped my lips, and my head dropped immediately to look at the joint now lying on the towel.

He chuckled, and I shot him a glare, only to burst out laughing when I saw that he hadn’t even stopped. He hadn’t loosened his grip on my thighs at all.

“I want you..” he whispered with a smile, letting his hands roam over my ass, squeezing and spreading it, making my cheeks flush bright red.

Maybe it was because we were both high, or maybe it was the atmosphere, the fading light slowly giving way to a sky full of stars, the situation I’d imagined myself in for years. A mix of sensations: his gaze on me, his lips that wasted no time attaching to my neck, searching for spots to bite, lick, and kiss as if he wanted to mimic the constellations above us. Maybe it was his hands slipping from my ass under my bikini, making his touch feel even more vivid and electric.

I don’t know. In that moment, the shivers spreading across my skin made my nipples harden and my body clench around nothing, already imagining what it would feel like to welcome him inside my warmth.

“Joost…” I managed to breathe out, eyes still closed, while his only answer was to bite down into the curve of my neck: hungry, passionate.

I gripped his shoulders and with a soft moan tugged at the collar of his polo, trying to silently ask him to take it off.

After what felt like endless minutes, he finally pulled away and slipped it off in one motion, giving me the chance to grab the nearly finished joint and light it back up.

Our first time was going to be high; A thought that made a goofy smile appear on my face, instantly erased when his lips crashed into mine again, hungrier than before.

I had just taken a hit, and as our tongues twisted together again, I let the smoke drift from my mouth into his. The sensation of passing it to him through that messy kiss made me grind against him.

Our cores were pressed together, separated only by a few layers of fabric. The warm, sharp taste of the weed became the soundtrack to the wet sounds escaping from both our mouths.

His hands slowly found their way to my bikini top, gently pushing the cups aside and replacing them with his palms.

He touched me slowly, with a tenderness I had never felt before, pinching my nipples gently and pulling away just enough to look at me, his eyes half-lidded and a small smile shining on his saliva slick lips.

I caressed the back of his neck and arched my back when he lowered his mouth to my chest, taking one of the pink buds between his teeth.

“Please, Joost…” From the deepest part of my throat, that plea came out, one he obeyed without hesitation.

He didn’t pull away from my breast, but his free hand slid down until it reached my throbbing core. I wrapped my legs tighter around his hips, and when he tapped his middle finger against my clit, I saw stars.

I was being stimulated by both his hand and his mouth, and his gaze never once left my face, drinking in every flicker of pleasure that twisted across it.

“How long have you been waiting for this moment, huh?” The vibrations of his voice teased my nipple in the most delicious way.

His middle and ring fingers slipped between my folds and pressed against the rough pad of pleasure that made me lose my breath.

Not even enough air to moan properly.

“How much do you want me… how much do you want my cock..hm?” He sped up the movement of his fingers, bringing his face close to mine to look into my eyes: now smaller, struggling not to close.

He held me tightly by the hips with the hand that had been on my chest, while, in contrast to the urgent pace of his fingers, he gently brushed his nose against mine.

I tossed aside the joint filter I was still holding, dropping it to a far corner of the towel, and grabbed his cheeks, forcing him to look into my eyes while he pumped his fingers in and out of me, the wet sound of them sliding through my walls echoing in my ears.

“Talk to me” he whispered, stealing a tender kiss from my lips, and after just a few seconds pulled back again, his gaze locked on mine.

I didn’t know what to say. My lower belly was drenched in pleasure from his touch, my legs nearly frozen around his hips, my chest heaving, making it impossible to even think, let alone speak.

“I waited for you for so… so long” I murmured through the moans I tried to suppress, right before he pulled his fingers out, dragging them along my outer lips, then catching my clit between them.

My body tensed again, my back arched involuntarily, and I shut my eyes tight; unlike him, who didn’t look away for even a second, watching every flicker of bliss play across my face.

“Really?” His voice was soft, tinged with the haziness of the high. I reopened my eyes and nodded, earning a moment of relief as his hand reached to slide my bikini to the side, baring my need to him.

“Why didn’t you tell me before?” he asked, almost regretfully, before kissing along my jawline, then my neck, and finally back to my lips, never waiting for my answer.

I smiled without thinking, raising my eyes to his and running my hands to the back of his neck.

“I was scared.” The vulnerability in my voice was unmistakable. Even through my ragged breathing, the tenderness wrapping around us like a blanket of intimacy was impossible to miss.

He paused, pulling his face just far enough from mine to take in my features bathed in the dim natural light of a sun that had just dipped below the horizon. I bit my bottom lip, and he smiled at the sight before cupping my face and planting a series of soft, quick kisses on my lips, like he was trying to pass me a message without saying it aloud.

A message that said: “Trust me, like you always have.”

There was, in fact, a mutual exchange of trust when I found myself on top of him, his full length buried deep inside me, and the control entirely in my hands to move however I pleased.

He lay flat on the towel, arms wrapped around my torso, his hips matching my rhythm with thrusts of his own, adding intensity. His mouth stayed close to my ear, releasing filthy sounds, low groans, without shame, without hesitation.

His skin, flushed in places, was coated in a thin sheen of sweat. It was the most beautiful sight I had ever seen: the feel of his skin against mine, my chest pressing into his, my hands clutching at the grass beneath the towel, and the ever present breeze that had accompanied us until that very moment.

“I’m close…” I moaned into his ear, feeling his hands tighten on my overheated skin, his thrusts gradually taking over as exhaustion began to slow my movements. My head was still spinning from the lingering effects of the high, everything feeling even more heightened and raw.

“Come… fuck, come for me…” I heard him curse, grip tightening even further, his hips slamming upward with a lewd rhythm, the wet sounds of our slick bodies crashing together filling the air.

I tensed, and his head fell back against the softness of the grass. I cupped his face between my hands and kissed him, right as I felt his hot release spill inside me, painting my walls in white. I whimpered, back arching, as a few final thrusts carried me over the edge into the most powerful, blissful sensation I had ever experienced with anyone.

Our lips stayed locked, our breaths still mingled, our tongues still hungry to explore each other.

His hands rested gently on my waist, stroking my skin to help soothe the tension from my trembling muscles.

When we finally pulled away, both gasping for air, our eyes met and in them we exchanged the most honest ‘I love you’ either of us had ever said, even without speaking it aloud.

In that moment, we loved each other.

We were high, yes… but we were entirely aware of it all. And the darkness that finally fell over that field became the perfect backdrop for the confession of our love.

[queenxxxsupreme]

Ghost (Logan Howlett x reader)

A/N: this is my first attempt at a fic in a while, so please just bear with me. This takes place after the events of Deadpool and Wolverine. I feel like I am not too great at writing Wade’s character and I think I’m still learning how to write Logan so just please don’t hate me if anything seems out of character. I hope you enjoy :)

Warnings: cursing, mentions of thoughts of suicide, nothing else out of the ordinary for a Deadpool and Wolverine fic

Word Count: 3.1k

Summary: What happens when the man who broke your heart shows up on your doorstep with a weird man claiming to be from another universe?

As you were tying your robe into place, the sound of glass shattering in the other room caught your attention.

“Fuck.” You muttered before hastily making your way down the hallway. “Nugs, what the hell are you doing in here?”

The overweight orange cat meowed loudly from where he sat on the floor. Directly beside him was a pile of dirt and the remnants of your favorite flower pot.

“Nugget! Dude, we have talked a million times about you trying to get up on that shelf.” You shooed the cat away from the mess, then went to retrieve a broom. “You are far too big to be trying to climb up there. You could get hurt.”

He meowed again and rubbed against your calf, offering his own version of an apology.

You swept the dirt and plant material into the dustpan. As you were making your way towards the trash can, a firm knock came at the front door.

Nugget started meowing loudly. It was almost like he was trying to imitate a siren and warn you that there was someone at the door.

Cautiously, you moved towards the door. You weren’t expecting anyone, sure, but you also knew absolutely no one in the city, so why would someone be knocking on your door at 11:30 on a Wednesday night?

You pulled the door open to see an unknown man. He wore a trucker hat with the words ‘this is actually my first rodeo’ stitched on to it. He was wearing a gray hoodie and jeans. The skin covering his face was scarred badly.

“Can I help you?” You furrowed your eyebrows.

“Oh my FUCK! You didn’t tell me we were coming to see Y/N!” The man turned around to reveal Logan Howlett.

Your heart jumped to your throat at the sight of him, and the very thought of breathing went right out the window.

He stood with his arms crossed. The dark red flannel he wore stretched over his muscles. It was like the shirt was two sizes too small for him. The jeans he wore were dark and fit him snug. His hair wasn’t as poofy as you remembered it being, but it was still styled and spiked just like he had always done.

As you took in the sight of the Wolverine, you realized he didn’t look as unkempt as you so vividly recalled him being the last time that you saw him.

“Uh, hi, Y/N.”

Hearing him say your name almost made you vomit right then and there. It had been years since you last heard him say your name.

You snapped out of your trance, the tension and nerves in your stomach twisting into anger.

“What the fuck do you want, Logan?”

”I know it’s a long shot, but we need somewhere to stay for the night.”

You couldn’t believe what he was saying. What made him think he had the right to ask you for anything?

You started to close the door but the man you didn’t know stopped you, placing his hand on the door.

“Hold on just a second, Y/N! We have some wild— and I mean wild —stories to tell you.”

”I don’t know you, fuck nuts.” You snapped. Your irises disappeared as the entire eye turned black. “Now if you two don’t get the hell away from my apartment—,”

”I know you don’t owe me anything, Y/N.” Logan paused, taking a second to admire how stunning you looked. You stood there in nothing but a soft pink robe with little cherries all over it and your hair was wet. You even smelled the same. “We’re doing some…. work nearby and we need somewhere to stay.”

”Go fuck yourself, how about that?” You tried to close the door but this time Logan stopped you. His hand was firm and steady as he held the door open.

“I-I just want to talk to you.”

You held his gaze, your eyes returning to their normal Y/E/C color.

Perhaps if he hadn’t looked so different from the last time you saw him, you’d slam the door in his face. But he didn’t look broken, his eyes weren’t empty. The Logan standing before you was more like the one you fell in love with years ago, rather than the one who had broken your heart.

“When was the last time you had a drink?”

Logan let out a heavy breath and almost rolled his eyes.

“Look, I’m not gonna lie to you. It was, like, forty-five minutes ago. But it was just one drink.”

”He’s seriously been cutting back on the alcohol.” The stranger nodded his head. “But if you ask me, I’d rather him be loaded with that shit. Makes him more tolerable.”

Logan elbowed him harshly in the ribs.

”It’s a good thing I didn’t ask you then isn’t it, buddy?” I raised my brows at the stranger.

”Yikes, you are just like I remember you being. All sweet and mean and shit.”

“Please, Y/N.” Logan pulled your attention back to him.

With a sigh of defeat, you stepped back and held the door for the two men.

“Yes! Thank you, Y/N.” The stranger happily entered your home. “You know, I’ve always wanted to see what your place was like. The you from my world banned me from her place a long time ago. We wear the same size shoes, you know. And apparently, she doesn’t like to share. Said I stretched out her Burkins. And her nighties.”

You furrowed your eyebrows as you listened to the man ramble.

“Who in the fuck are you?”

”Wade Wilson.” The man turned around to face you, holding his hand out. “You might know me as Deadpool.”

”No, actually. I don’t.” You crossed your arms over your chest, ignoring his outstretched hand. “Where the hell did you get this guy, Logan?”

”Uh, it’s a long story.”

”I can explain it all, momma. Let’s have a seat.” Wade gestured to your kitchen table and then pulled a chair out.

***

You stepped out onto your balcony, pulling a carton of cigarettes from the pocket in your jacket. Your eyes flickered out over the city.

Never in a million years did you think that Logan Howlett would show up at your apartment looking like a kicked dog. Never in a million years did you think he’d be able to dig himself out of the hole he tried to bury himself in ages ago. And never in a million years did you think he would have the guts to stand in front of you asking to stay for just the night.

He needed somewhere to stay for the night, somewhere to rest in the midst of whatever the fuck he was doing. And with him came a strange man by the name of Wade Wilson.

The air was cool and a gentle breeze blew through your hair. The faint sound of car horns kept you from being too absorbed by your own thoughts.

Out of the corner of your eye, something moved. It was Wade.

You took a puff of the cigarette and then offered it to him.

“Oh, no thank you. I’m trying to limit my oral intake of carcinogens.”

You nodded, finding it best not to question him, and moved to sit down at the little table.

“Sometimes I think things couldn’t get any more crazy. The man who broke my heart and made me contemplate offing myself shows up at my front door out of the blue with a man claiming to be from another universe entirely. How am I supposed to react to that?”

Wade opened his mouth to answer your rhetorical question with something sassy, but he stopped himself. He could see that your eyes were glossy and your breath was shaky. Your hand trembled as you held the cigarette up to your lips.

He slipped into the seat next to you, racking his brain for something to say.

“Did you know that?” You asked him, your eyes finding his. “That when we broke up, when he…. When Logan decided that he was done…. I thought about killing myself.”

”No, I didn’t.” Wade spoke softly.

”We were together for years. Almost a lifetime. And he just…. He just couldn’t take it anymore. After what happened at the school.” You paused for a moment. “He couldn’t move on, but he couldn’t die either. Everything just turned him into someone I— someone I didn’t know. Don’t know.”

Wade watched you in silence. His chest began to feet tight, like it was hard for him to breathe. Seeing his best friend— or at least his best friend in his world —so torn up, so genuinely hurt, made Deadpool feel bad.

“In my world, you two were together until his dying breath.”

Your eyes snapped over to him, unsure that you had heard him right.

”What?”

”Wherever you were, he was not too far behind. You two were inseparable. Practically joined at the hip.”

You gazed at him for a few moments, giving yourself time to process his words. An ache began to stir in your gut, the same ache that you fought every single minute of every single day to suppress.

“He-He died? In your- In your world, I mean.”

”Yeah. Oh, yeah.” Wade rubbed his palms on the thighs of his jeans. “It was a real dark time for everyone. I never even got to team up with him before he croaked.”

You flicked the ashes from your cigarette into an ashtray. You leaned back in your seat, taking a deep breath.

“Your Logan, was he like this one?”

“Very similar. This one gives off slutty vibes. And he’s more drunk than the one from my world.”

“Was I happy with him, Wade?”

The Deadpool looked at you for a while. It was so weird to him that you were questioning your happiness with Logan Howlett. In his world, all you ever did was talk about Logan, about the memories you had with him.

“Happier than anyone I ever knew.” He nodded his head softly. “Look, I don’t know your situation with him in this world, but I think you should let him talk to you.”

You took a deep breath of the cigarette. The back of your throat burned.

“I can’t do that.”

“Sure you can. Just let him talk and explain himself. Make him feel like a dick for what he did. Then have the hottest makeup sex ever. Lovers-to-enemies-back-to-lovers sex is the best. Or so I’ve heard. I haven’t had a chance to experience that yet. Still on my bucket list.”

“He wouldn’t listen to me before. What makes you think he’ll listen to me now?”

“In our little journey we’ve had, I think I’ve been a good influence on him. I got him to smile, like, three times.”

You wanted to believe him, to trust the words he was telling you and the grin on his face. But you couldn’t stop thinking back to the Logan you remembered.

The cigarette between your fingertips disappeared beneath your touch, the gentle breeze taking away the particles of what was left of it.

You looked down at your hand, a shaky breath leaving through your lips.

“I don’t know, Wade.”

“That’s okay, momma. That’s okay.” He put his hands up. “It’s late and it’s been a wild and odd day for you. Why don’t you go get some sleep?”

“Yeah.” You nodded your head, standing from your chair.

He stood to his feet and looked down at you for a few moments. Then his arms wrapped around you and he pulled you in for a tight hug.

“Oh, uh–,”

“Shhh. Just let me hug you.” He whispered.

You were confused and shocked a little bit, but you hugged him back nonetheless.

“You smell just like the Y/N from my world.”

”Alright, okay.” You pulled away from him.

“I’m gonna go see if the princess is done with her shower yet.”

“Goodnight, Wade.”

“Good night, Y/N.”

You watched him walk back into your apartment and he disappeared around a corner.

You stood there for a few moments in silence. He was an interesting man. You almost enjoyed how much he constantly annoyed Logan.

“What a fucking day.” You rubbed your temple with one hand as you moved to return to your seat.

The cigarette pack was pulled from your jacket pocket and you took out a second cigarette. You put the stick between your lips, then reached back into your pocket to pull out a lighter.

Someone cleared their throat. You turned your head to see Logan standing in the doorway. He was in a pair of black sweatpants and a t-shirt. His hair was damp, a telltale sign that he had just gotten out of the shower.

You said nothing to him for a few heartbeats.

“Your friend is strange.” You nodded to the seat beside you that Wade had previously sat in. As Logan sat down, you held out the pack of cigarettes for him.

“Thanks.” He muttered, taking the box and pulling a cigarette out. You took it back from him and tossed it down onto the table. “He’s…. He’s not too bad.”

You lit your cigarette, then passed the lighter to Logan.

”When’d you take up smoking?” He placed the lighter down on the table next to the pack of cigarettes.

“Couple years ago.”

Logan wanted to look at you, to see how much you had changed in the years since he had last seen you. But he couldn’t bring himself to see the way that you looked at him. The sadness. The grief. The anger. So instead, the Wolverine focused his gaze on the skyline ahead.

The two of you sat there in silence for what felt like ages. Part of you didn’t know what to say, but the other part of you didn’t feel like it was your job to be the first to speak. That was on him.

You finished the cigarette with one final deep breath, then you put it out in the ashtray. The silence was getting to be too much, and you contemplated getting a third cigarette.

“Why did you come here, Logan?” You crossed your arms tightly over your chest.

”I wanted to…. I guess I just wanted to see you.” He blew a cloud of smoke from his lips. “The whole way here, I was trying to think of something to say, of what I could say to apologize to you, to show you that I am sorry. But nothing is good enough. Nothing sounds good enough.”

You turned your head to look at him, tilting your head to the side just a little.

“Start with an actual apology, Logan. Tell me that you are sorry. God knows you’ve never fucking done that before.”

Logan pressed his lips together tightly. He couldn’t bring himself to look at you, not yet at least.

“I am sorry, Y/N.”

You didn’t realize you were crying until the breeze blowing over the balcony made your damp cheeks feel cold. You turned away from him, hastily wiping your eyes with the sleeve of your jacket.

“I am— I’m so, so fucking sorry for everything.” Logan’s voice was quiet.

“I thought about killing myself, Logan.”

It was his turn to look at you. His brows were drawn together and his lips parted.

“What?”

“I had no one left. The Professor was gone. Storm, Jean, there was no one fucking left for me to go to.” Your voice trembled as you said each name.

“I’m— Y/N, I’m sorry. I just…. There was a lot going on and I—,”

”You don’t think I didn’t fucking see what was going on, Logan?” You cut him off. The sadness and grief you felt quickly turned to anger. “I wanted to help you. I did everything I could to try to help you! And you just shot me down like I was a fucking nobody to you. Like we hadn’t spent the last fifteen plus years together!”

”I didn’t know how to process everything!” He raised his voice. All the emotions from all those years ago came flooding back to him. “You couldn’t fix everything, Y/N! You couldn’t just make things better with a snap of your fingers! I was an asshole. The biggest fucking asshole in the world. And I’m sorry you had to go through that.”

You stood to your feet. The thought of just sitting idly while you felt the white hot anger of a thousand suns under your skin made you want to vomit.

“Fuck you, Logan. Actually and genuinely fuck you. To think you have the right to find me and just waltz in and try to apologize for fucking being the absolute biggest dickhead in the entire—,”

Logan cut you off by wrapping his arms around you. He pulled you into what was perhaps the tightest hug you had ever had in your life. He buried his face against the side of your head, his hands pressing firmly into your back.

You were frozen in shock for the first few seconds. What was he doing? What was he trying to do?

”I’m so fucking sorry.” His voice cracked. “I’m so sorry.”

And just like that, you melted around him. Your arms wrapped around his torso. You buried your face in his chest.

Sure, you weren’t completely accepting of his apology. There were still plenty of conversations the two of you needed to have to work through your issues. But you would be lying if you said you hadn’t been dreaming about this moment for years.

You stood there for a long time, probably too long, holding him as tight as you possibly could. Your tears dampened his hoodie at the center of his chest and you were sure you could feel his own tears making your hair damp.

When he finally felt that he had held you for long enough, Logan pulled back. You looked up at him, taking in a shaky breath through your lips. His large hands came up to cup your face, thumbs brushing the tears away.

”We should go to sleep.”

”Yeah.” You nodded your head, stepping away from him so that you could gather yourself quickly. “Um, yeah. I think Wade said something about sharing the guest bed with you.”

”Oh, great.” Logan rolled his eyes.

“You can always sleep on the couch if you want.” You offered, moving around him and into your apartment.

You stopped in the kitchen to watch him. As he stepped into the dim lighting of your home, you found yourself staring at him once more. It felt like you were dreaming, like maybe this was some sort of coma dream. Maybe you fell down the stairs in your apartment and this wasn’t real.

”Good night, Y/N.”

“Good night, Logan.”

[doctorgirlsblog]

Chicken Soup (MV x reader)

Note: a quick one-shot inspired by recent events and Influenza virus going around. Kinda lame, but I really don't give a F.

Max was just like every other man. Tough. Until he gets sick. With Influenza season on the run, he was bound to get his part of it, sooner or later. What you didn't expect, was him becoming an instant child as soon as his nose started running.

It didn't start off bad. You got it first, presumably at the work, not even making a big deal out of it, still going to work, coughing and sneezing the whole time, but managing just fine with some medicine. As Max refused to sleep in guest room until you got better, claiming he was strong enough not to get infected, you knew it was just a matter of time.

And you were right. Exactly five days later, as you two were laying down at the evening, watching some movie on Netflix, you felt him squirming around the sofa.

"Baby is everything okay?"

He huffed, wincing slightly and you couldn't help but smile a little bit. "Yeah, just tired. Could you maybe give me some of that medicine you used? I just want to feel rested tomorrow, that's all." You pushed your hand on his forehead, feeling him up. "Baby, I think you're burning up a little."

And that was the moment Max Verstappen, 4-times World Champion, decided to become a child.

He layed down on the sofa, spreading his limbs everywhere as he sighed loudly.

"Wait here, I'll bring you something." You fetched a cold washcloth, putting it on his forehead, before putting medicine in his mouth. He shuttered slightly.

"Oh come on love, don't be a baby. It's not that cold."

"It's freezing." He whined softly, leaning into your touch even more.

"Do you want me to make you some lemonade? It will freshen you up." He nodded only, looking at you with wide eyes. You smiled again.

When you came back with lemonade, you found him snorring, his mouth slightly open.

You hated to wake him up, but you had to bring him to bed, or he'd get really sore on the couch.

You nudged him lightly, brushing his hair back from his forehead.

"Baby, come on. Let's get you to bed, then you can sleep." He murmured something incohorent, but you still managed to pull him up somehow, supporting his weight on you and bringing him to your bed. He dropped under the sheets instantly, his snores filling the silent space. You put a fresh cold washcloth on his forehead again, before snuggling into bed yourself.

You felt something nugging you in your sleep and as you woke up blinking in the dark, you saw Max's siluette sitting in the corner of the bed. You pulled yourself up.

"Baby? What's wrong?"

His voice was soft and almost whisper-like as he answered.

"I can't sleep. My throat hurts, and my head. I'm also cold."

"Oh love. Come here." So you opened your arms and he was there in an instant, snuggling against your neck, inhaling your scent. "I don't wanna be sick." He whined, making you smile once again.

You massaged his scalp softly and whispered: "I know love. It will get better, I promise."

He fell asleep again.

Next two days were pure agony, with Max calling your name the moment you left his new patient room, aka sofa, which he didn't leave unless he had to go to a toilette. Every time Max whined for a new blanket, or a different soup, you felt your patience wearing thin, but you fetched it anyway, knowing that soon, the tables would turn.

"But I want *your* chicken soup, the one with the little noodles inside."

"But I don't want to shower in cold water; it will make me sicker."

"Ican't eat that soup; I'm sleepy now. This cold makes me tired."

"You know, my mom never made me wear wet socks when I had a fever."

You promised to yourself, you will live this through. After all, only the women who gave birth knew the suffers of man with a cold right?

So you tended to his every wish and whine during the next couple days until he finally got better at Saturday, making you thank God in all possible languages.

Now, it was your turn to be whiny.

So you started with some basics, making him cook you your favourite meals, calling his name as soon as he went outside the room just to tell him you miss him and you became terribly clingy during night, where usually you two cuddled before sleep and then everyone slept on their own side, enjoying the space.

Max was getting hold of it, until you became whiny at Tuesday, telling him how you need to eat some strawberries.

"What, like now?" You were both currently laying in bed, already in your PJs. "You're not pregnant are you?"

You couldn't help but laugh. And you kept laughing as Max stared at you, confused. 'No, Max, I'm not pregnant. One child for now is more than enough for me.' You leaned over, kissing him on the nose. The playful glint in his eyes, which had been missing for days, returned. He scoffed, pulling away, but the petulant edge was gone, replaced with a familiar warmth. 'I'm not a baby,' he murmured. 'Sure thing, lover boy. You're more of a sex machine.' You couldn't help but tease, as he hadn't even tried anything since he got sick last week. As he cuddled into your side again, stealing a good part of your blanket, he murmured into your neck again. 'I'm totally your sex machine.'"

You smiled, a knowing glint in your eyes. "We'll see about that," you whispered, as you pulled him closer, the night promising to be much warmer than the past few spent in fever had been.

[felassan]

Thoughts on the new images of the Lighthouse Part 2. DA:TV spoilers under cut.

[Link to Part 1]

I ran out of image allowance on the first post so I'm putting the rest here in this post.

I think maybe this is Davrin's room. on the righthand side, there are floor-to-ceiling windows (one part of them even has curtains) or even the whole wall cut away - this would be perfect for allowing Assan to fly out and fly in as he came and went. ^^ Corinne Busche said this about Davrin's room:

"When you see Davrin’s room, you’d certainly assume he’d be up watching the sunrise with that view. If only it weren’t in the fade"

with windows so big or a wall cutaway, you can see why Davrin's room is said to have an amazing view like this. :D

On the right hand side of the room is lots of things you'd need if you were into wood-carving/whittling, which is implied for Davrin by what he's doing in the Lighthouse group shot: stool, workbench/table with shelf space beneath, tools, a log of wood on the bench, what looks like a saw, piles of more logs, an axe to chop them with, a stump to split them on. on the workbench are some of his finished projects: a carved nug, a carved dragon, and there are other wooden carvings he's made elsewhere in the room. on the floor nearby it's scattered with I guess wood shavings/bits of broken wood from chopping wood.

Some more carvings Davrin has made - he makes so many :) here we have nugs and an adorable bear design. sidequest to help Davrin open an Etsy store.

Another standout thing about Davrin's room is all the monster stuff. of course, he's a monster hunter. Over the fireplace is the skull of a large creature. fixed to or hung from the ceiling are the bones that make up a large creature's spine (they remind me of dinosaur bones in museums). left of his armchair near a curtain is another big skull on the wall. there's a collection of horns hung from the ceiling and more smaller skulls on the wall behind that. other items along the monster-hunter theme are bits of bone(?) or horn(?) or something on his desk, annotated anatomical illustrations of different types of creatures (which ties into how he sees it as a specific skillset to hone, how he learns monsters' weaknesses to be able to exploit them etc), and the various glass containers - some of these look to contain monster parts (specimens or trophies?). Witcher vibes!

Nug diagram and a horn-like or tentacle-y specimen in the green jar.

Assan has been scratching the back of Davrin's chair like a cat hhh. can we gift them a griffon-sized scratching post pls? and next to Davrin's comfy chair by the fire is a rug or sheepskin kinda thing of some sort on the ground - for Assan to lie on when Davrin sits in the chair? ^^ how lovely. it looks like there's also a stick, bone or chew for him on the ground near that. maybe that's Davrin's outside coat draped over the top of the chair. and btew is the nug to the right of the fireplace a carved wood nug statue or a stuffed dead nug hh?

Halla statue? ^^

Right: Another halla statue? Center: Another? Left: Animal diagram with drawings of could be a halla (top) and a set of halla horns (the biggest horns in the center).

There's a halla statue in Bellara's room and one in Taash's room too, but if these things in Davrin's are all hallas, that's a lot of halla things in one. Coincidence, monster-hunting related (as they're animals), Dalish-related, or Ghil-related? it's been wondered if Davrin's vallaslin correspond to Ghilan'nain (which would add a layer to the story of 1. an elf encounters not just one of their gods but the one whose vallaslin theirs corresponds to, 2. a monster-hunter, as she's mother of monsters, and 3. a Grey Warden monster-hunter who just may have been killing the mutated darkspawn and mutated monsters emerging from Ghil's monster-pools lately).

I wonder if the silver chalices around the room are meant to evoke the Joining cup?

What are these green things at the window?

Davrin's room has some empty shelves. I noticed some empty shelves in Emmrich's room too. I'm assuming this is where companions will display the personalized gifts we can get to give them, like was mentioned in the second dev Q&A:

Corinne Busche: "Out in the world, and there in various locations, so you kinda stumble upon them, you can buy a gift that is very personal to any one of the companions, and then you go, you turn that into them, you give it to them, they have a nice acknowledgement. And then, the thing that’s just like so sweet about it, we’ve talked about how the companion rooms evolve over time, but if you go and get them one of these, like, very personalized gifts, they’ll display it in their room. Like it doesn’t go into some stats void. It’s actually on display."

(if so, I'm assuming there's such a place in each room not just their two ones; just, those places may be out of frame due to angle in the other images).

Outside of the room you can see more ruined ancient elven Fadey architecture.

Process of elimination leaves this as Lucanis' room. Lucanis?? 😭😭 in what looks like the kitchen storage room?? if you need a snack in the middle of the night do you either wake Lucanis up when you sneak in (he'd hear you with his senses) or encounter him still up because he can't sleep well that night in the corner with his demonic aura?

it's dark - check, dude who "hides in the dark". he doesn't appear to have many belongings or personal effects - check, dude who is practical and pragmatic. he's a lot less ostentatious than Illario.

there's food everywhere, including fresh produce and a returning Dragon Age classic, giant cheese wheels. :') likely there is more food in the sacks, baskets, crates/boxes and pots. sleeping here reminds me of what was said about Lucanis being one of the team cooks in the second dev Q&A:

John Epler: "Bellara and Lucanis actually end up being, essentially, the team cooks. Bellara, you know, spending a lot of time out in nature, learning a lot about, you know, different types of cooking, is really big on experimentation, she likes to, you know, try different things. Lucanis comes from the Crows, Lucanis is very big on the finer things, so between the two of them, there’s a point in the story where they basically decide, if we don’t do this, the entire team is going to starve, so let’s just call ourselves the cook, cooks, and make sure that nobody dies of food poisoning, so."

I wonder if the chests contain food, other supplies or Lucanis' belongings.

Another one of these things. There's one in Neve's room and Bellara's too. maybe there's one in each companion room and the other screenshots were just taken from an angle where they can't be seen? again I'm so curious what these are for (or maybe they're just decor).

[Link to Part 1]

[sunny374940]

Writing Challenge Weekend-Davrin Edition

Hi @thedissonantverses, thank you for the tag <3 (I'm sure it's still the weekend somewhere :D).

So I picked 7 (Come on feet don’t fail me now) and 15 (Assan needs a bath), cause I was feeling silly and this thing fell out.

Horrible smelling foam

“So, what are we doing today? Truffle hunting? Target practice? Sightseeing? I know a handful of statues you might like.”

Davrin groaned. “Make one more pun and I'm throwing you in the river.”

“Aw, you're no fun again,” Rook laughed, nudging him with a shoulder.

“Not where your dumb puns are concerned,” Davrin chuckled, giving him a nudge back.

Assan was running in front of them and he looked twitchy today. He kept stopping and nipping at his sides and scratching himself.

“Is Assan feeling alright?” Rook asked.

“Yeah, everything's fine,” Davrin said with an extremely shifty look.

“Davrin?” 

“What? It's nothing.” Davrin was completely failing at being convincing.

“If this is like the time you used me as bait for Assan, I'm out.”

“Nah, it's not like that. He's got fleas.”

“Fleas.”

“Uh-huh.”

“Did he get them from the nugs?”

Davrin gave a defeated sigh. “Yeah. And he needs a-” his voice dropped to a whisper “-bath.”

“And you need my help specifically to give him one? I remember the last time you gave him a bath, the screeching-”

Assan's alarmed squawk cut him off mid-sentence. 

Davrin groaned. “Now you've done it.”

“What did I do?”

“You said the b-word.”

“Bath? He would have found out anyw-”

And Assan was gone in a great flapping of wings. They took off running after him.

“Assan! Come back, boy!”

“I don't think he's gonna come back right now!”

They must have run through half of Arlathan. Rook’s hair was full of twigs from when he had to fight his way through some bushes, Davrin was muddy after he slid down a slope he hadn’t noticed and they were both getting out of breath. But Assan luckily got bored of the chase and settled in a very tall pine tree. He looked so smug up there, lounging like a cat.

“Assan, come down, I've got gingerwort truffles,” Davrin called to him between gasps for air.

A negative squawk.

“I think he knows you're lying,” Rook wheezed at him.

“Come on, a little bath never hurt anyone,” Davrin tried and Assan hissed indignantly and moved up a branch. He apparently begged to differ.

Davrin turned to Rook. “A little help?”

“Assan! Emmrich won't let you play with Manfred if you keep the fleas!” Rook called up. Assan tilted his head in consideration and made a questioning trill.

“I mean it, Emmrich hates fleas.”

Assan shot straight down to land in front of them. He shook himself off, scratched at his side with a back leg and trotted towards the river.

“Wow,” Rook breathed out. “I can't believe that worked.”

“Me neither. Let's go before he changes his mind.”

Assan was already splashing around in the shallows and bounded to them when they got closer. 

“Good boy,” Davrin said, patting his head. 

But giving a bath to a reluctantly cooperating griffon was a messy affair. He got himself wet alright, but the shampoo was… something.

“What’s in that?” Rook asked, wrinkling his nose at the smell.

Davrin looked like he was trying not to breathe. “I don't know. Herbs? Harding swore up and down it works on mabari.”

Assan took a sniff and backed away.

“C'mon, boy. If you don’t like the smell, the fleas certainly won't.”

Davrin put a glob of the stuff in his palm and gave the bottle to Rook, who did the same. They inched closer to Assan, who was clicking his beak at them.

“He won't bite, will he?” Rook whispered.

“Nah, he's just pretending. He knows that griffons who bite get their gingerwort privileges revoked.”

Davrin reached out with the shampoo and even though Assan really didn't bite, the next few minutes were best left forgotten in Rook’s opinion. There was too much splashing and horrible smelling foam and a lot of screeching. A Lot of it. Both Rook and Davrin were toppled over and into the water several times by an utterly disgusted and very foamy griffon and Rook was seriously regretting ever agreeing to this outing. And then Assan decided he'd had enough and dove underwater to rinse himself off, to Rook’s immense relief. 

Davrin sat down on the riverbank, huffing out an exhausted breath, and Rook flopped on his back next to him. They were drenched. At least the day was warm. 

Assan came out of the water and shook himself off vigorously, but there was no way that could get them wetter than they already were. Davrin flopped on his back too.

“Hey, Rook?”

“Yeah?”

“Thanks for the help.”

“Anytime. But I think I can just deal with fleas in the Lighthouse next time this happens. The shampoo really stinks.”

“Yeah. I'll make the fleas little beds. They can sleep in your room.”

“Only if they're fancy beds.”

“Only the fanciest for you.”

“Thanks.”

Assan curled up between them and closed his eyes. He was almost dry and his feathers were gleaming. And Rook’s hair was still full of twigs and Davrin was still muddy. It felt a touch unfair. Rook reached out to pet Assan and Davrin did too to Assan's delight, which he announced by a trilling purr.

“You know what? Assan's right. I'm taking a nap too,” Rook said. He was exhausted and lying there in the sun felt very nice.

“Good call. Wake me up if something tries to eat us.”

Rook yawned. “Sure. Don't wake me up if there's fleas again.”

Davrin's chuckle was broken off with a yawn of his own. “I'll put them in your pockets.”

Assan clicked his beak at them.

“Yeah, yeah, I get it,” Davrin laughed. “Less talking, more petting.”

Rook was running his fingers through the soft feathers on Assan's back and Davrin started humming quietly. This really was nice.

[tazofthehollow]

started with trouble

summary: Joel doesn’t know what to expect, but it definitely isn’t you. Tess’ long time friend through the trade business. after agreeing to work with Joel & Tess, Joel quickly finds out you’re the only one who can get under his skin.

pt.1

warnings: mature 18+, TLOU content, slow burn, yearning, enemies to lovers, series

joel millerXf!reader

A/N: wow okay my first fic!! pls lmk your thoughts & expressions. i worked so hard on this, so i hope you love it as much as i do! i take recs! with all these being said, i hope you enjoy this crazy, funny, heart wrenching, amazing, piece i’m creating. happy reading 🩶

you were tess’ closest friend, other than Joel Miller of course. you heard countless stories of him, how heroic he was. how “bad ass”. you were intimidated to say the least. him on the other hand, he swore he heard your name pass through tess’ lips but he couldn’t place it. the last 20 years were a blur & he often times found himself always becoming too consumed in grief to function. most days, it seemed he lived on auto pilot. turning into his absolute worst self, someone he never imagined he could be. losing a kid will do that to you. it’s the only thought that crosses his mind, would sarah even still see him as the father she loved? he drowns these thoughts, never letting them see the light of day.

little did Joel know, you had quite the reputation. i mean hell, your nickname was trouble for crying out loud. when tess was trying to convince joel that you were the perfect choice for their need of extra muscle on this run. joel was reluctant, he didn’t like doing business with anyone new let alone side by side. was tess actually losing it now?

“cmon joel, i wouldn’t even suggest her if i didn’t think she was a good fit.”

joel grunts, placing his knife on the table aggressively as he faces away from tess, he feels the familiar feeling of rage bubbling in his stomach. he takes a deep breath & he seethes out

“what makes you so convinced she won’t turn on us the second she gets the chance?”

i mean joel couldn’t think of any other thing than this, what if you were working along FEDRA? or worse, what if you worked with the fireflies & you were just looking for resources for them? after tommy left with the fireflies, joel couldn’t help but feel even more indifferent about them.

on the way to the meet spot, tess quickly informed him of your less than pleasing reputation. sure, you were quick witted, resourceful, & a little to reckless for your own good. unfortunately this sent every alarm off in joel’s head but he remained silent, grunting occasionally to let tess know he was listening. this was insane? was he actually doing this? he sighs as his eyes meet the alley way you said you’d be in. joel met your eyes once but didn’t let them linger, he quickly averted his gaze to something seemingly far more interesting behind you. you smirked at tess

“tessy, always a pleasure”

tess pulls you into a half hug as she introduces joel

“this is joel, my partner i told you about” you offer him a tight lipped smile, one that doesn’t quite meet your eyes. he grunts in response as you offer him your name.

tess sighs

“joel we need her”

joel huffs

“we don’t need anyone”

this pulls a chuckle from you

“good thing i don’t need your approval cowboy”

joel quickly finds himself regretting tess’ convincing as he is desperate to be several paces ahead of you & Tess, finding it impossible to linger near a stranger for so long. especially one with a mouth like you had.

when tess convinced herself joel was far enough out of ear shot, she nugged you & whispered

“don’t take it personal. just don’t piss him off”

you smirk back as you whisper making sure it’s loud enough for joel to hear

“pissing people off is part of my charm tessy”

-

as they enter their usual meeting spot, their supplier robert’s ‘fortress’ as you called it when you first entered, joel was beginning to be very very annoyed with your endless antics. it seemed you never ran out of jabs or questioning every method.

“you ever think of trying a plan that doesn’t involve scowling your way through it?”

joel grunts, shaking his head as he pulls his pack back over his shoulders

“you ever think ‘bout shuttin’ up?”

you chuckle, you actually fucking chuckle at him. he rolls his eyes as he finally sees who he hopes is robert. what he doesn’t expect is the ambush.

4 men seemingly come out of nowhere, a sharp force catching joel off guard as he scrambles for a weapon. he hears tess let out a groan of pain, as he takes out the first man he frantically glances around trying to find the source. usually joel’s a man always on his toes, he hardly ever got snuck up on. if they did succeed it always ended the same, blood on joel’s hands. so to say he got taken by surprise that day twice was like telling him he’d have real coffee again. nearingly impossible. as the man finds himself on top of joel, strangling him while having joel’s arms tucked under the attackers knees, he’s helpless. he can’t shimmy out, he can’t breathe. he closes his eyes. feeling the emptiness of the lingering darkness he feels consuming him slowly, until everything comes swirling back & he feels a heavy weight slump on his chest. he opens his eyes, seeing you smirking. covered in blood with a hand extended.

“you’re welcome cowboy”

joel shoves the man off him, standing quickly as he grabs his discarded weapon & ignores your hand

he practically growls as he walks past

tess sighs

“you two are worse than children”

-

at the end of the seemingly successful mission, Tess finds herself offering for you to stay at their shared apartment until morning. joel grunts & opens his mouth to insist but he’s met with a cold glare from tess, he decided he lost enough battles today & he wasn’t doing himself any good trying to argue.

that’s how he found himself sitting in the living room as you shuffled through the books on the book shelf, tess gone to bed hours ago. joel didn’t feel comfortable, regardless if you saved his ass today you were still a stranger. maybe not to tess but definitely to him. he decided staying watch in his own apartment was probably his least favorite thing to do; he lets his mind wander to the thoughts that desperately tried their damndest too consume him but before they reach your voice pierces through

“do you ever talk, or is the silent grumpy glaring guy your default setting?”

you say as you plop down on the couch, holding a copy of pride & prejudice; one joel got on a trade a few months back. he’d been meaning to pick it up himself but he ever found the time.

joel grunts, glancing at you as he says

“talkin’ wastes energy”

you snicker as you open the book, you glance over the top as you say

“you must have a ton saved up then”

joel rolls his eyes, reverting his gaze out the window, it seemed only seconds went by. he heard your evened breathing before he glanced at you, seeing you so at peace. he felt a sense of something he hadn’t felt in a long time, hope? he couldn’t tell. maybe it was the moonlight casting your face in just the right way, maybe it’s because it’s the first time he hasn’t seen you jittery so he can finally take you in. he can’t deny, you’re painfully beautiful. he finds his eyes lingering for too long before he reverts his gaze back to the moon. his eyes grew heavy as he rested his head back, letting his eyes flutter closed.

-

2 months later

you found yourself to be tess & joel’s regular snuggling partner, joel still had his doubts but he couldn’t argue. he seen your commitment, you definitely lived up to your reputation. it seemed every buyer was friendlier, more generous. tess insisted it was your charm, you had a way of making people feel comfortable & joel couldn’t argue with that. as much as he refused to admit it.

what he didn’t like about your reputation was how reckless you were, he especially didn’t like when you proved your reputation to be true on it too. during this run, you found yourself running directly into gunfire over the dropped supplies the raiders had dropped. you weren’t one to turn down any chance to bring back as much as you could, tess was held up behind a crate. covering you as joel felt fear coming up his throat in the form of bile. why were you so impulsive? you could always get more supplies, he would always take the risk. why did you feel the need? he felt the rage seething through his bones. his heart stopped as a bullet wizzed by your head.

as the last man drops, joel angrily pulls you aside as tess accesses the supplies you gathered

joel seethes as he delivers the first blow

“what the hell were you thinkin? you could’ve gotten us killed?!”

you shrug, still breathless as you wipe the blood from the cut on your brow

“i got the supplies, didn’t i?”

joel’s glare could’ve killed a nun, it was a look you imagined only lucifer himself could deliver

“next time, you listen to me”

you sigh as you grab your pack

“next time, you keep up”

the tension was thick, tess was tempted to slide on the gas mask just so she could breathe through it. she turns to face you & joel as she utters

“if i have to referee one more fight, im leaving you both behind”

-

a few weeks later, you find yourself mindless walking through joel & tess’ apartment. at this point, other than living full time with your grandpa you found this being your second home. your grandpa has a shift on sewer duty today, you and absolutely nothing better to do than come pester tess. praying joel also took a similar job since your runs had to be put on pause. FEDRA agents were getting suspicious, patrolling in eras they usually avoided. it all seemed too much for joel, at first you argued he was just paranoid old man but then you took notice too & reluctantly agreed.

you found yourself visiting more, trades were all you did. with that being flushed at the moment you had endless time on your hands & enough ration cards to feed a small army. you didn’t feel the need to work horrible jobs, your grandpa did it just to give himself something to do. he was very reluctant to learn about you ‘business’.

“trouble, don’t get in somethin’ you can’t get out of. we’re fine how we’re livin”

you sigh

“grandpa, i’m safe. promise. just making sure you’re took care of”

your grandpa sighs, letting his head fall

“i should be taking care of you trouble, not the other way round”

you quickly find yourself throwing your arms over your grandpa, mindlessly fidgeting with his army tags that he proudly wears everyday

“don’t start that nonsense. you’ve kept me alive all these years, it’s the least i can do”

you didn’t expect to find joel looking so peaceful, you almost wanna pinch yourself to see if you’re dreaming but your mind catches you. not yet. joel’s humming, it sounds like “hey jude” as he mindlessly tries to repair the broken watch he wears daily. now that you think of it, does he ever take it off?

“didn’t think you were the sentimental type”

your presence obviously startled him, he glanced up quickly letting you read his expression. startled, guarded, a tiny bit grumpy but there was something more. something you couldn’t quite place.

“it’s none of your business trouble”

you push off the door frame you found yourself leaning on as a small smile falls on your face, joel tries to read your expression this time. this isn’t the playful teasing smile you usually have on display. no, this smiles the smile you reserve when you mention something you love. the smile you share with tess, the one he only gets glimpses at.

“don’t worry cowboy, i won’t tell anyone you have a heart”

for the first time, joel doesn’t snap back. he just watches you for a moment, retreating down the hall. probably going to pick up the book you’ve been reading. he shakes you from his thoughts as he glances back down to return to his work. catching a glimpse of himself in the broken glass, he sees the tinest smile grazing his face.

-

a month passes & the trio find themselves on runs again, this time with a bit of a different dynamic. joel doesn’t veer off as far now, finding himself enjoying the small talk you & tess share. this is how he learns the most about you, not because he says anything. he’s not sure what to say. he knows you live with your grandpa. that he absolutely adores you & says you’re his “second chance at being the dad he never got to be”. joel found himself questioning on what this really meant? he knew he was a vet, was he deployed when your parents were kids? did you get raised by your parents? were they even around? joel found himself wondering about you, wanting to learn more. any information he got, he held close. so the more he listened the more he learned. he knows your favorite color is green, dark forest green. not the neon “disgrace of the color”. he knows you have a brother. or had a brother. you get cold & distant when you mention him, was he still out there? like tommy? he knows you prefer old rock music, you have a huge sweet tooth. he noticed the wrinkle between your brows as you read, it seemingly disappearing as you turn the page but returning as soon as your eyes skim the new context. he noticed the way your eyes lit up whenever you passed by a group of wild flowers. of course joel would never admit it to you, any of these things to you. didn’t mean he didn’t notice.

his thoughts were so clouded, on the way back after such a successful run he was overjoyed. tess decided to take a different route to drop off some of the supplies, she was promised some aged bourbon & a cassette of led zeppelin’s V album. joel was content, he hadn’t felt this way in such a long time. he should’ve known it wouldn’t last. he was so spaced out he didn’t see the 3 FEDRA officers approaching. he also didn’t seem to hear you calling out his name, by the time he realized you were already luring them the opposite way. joel was shocked, he felt a new found rage run through his veins like ice as he refused to leave you behind. as he started your way, he realized this wasn’t rage. this was fear. fear he hadn’t felt since sarah.

he found himself sneaking around the alleyway, finding an advantage point to pounce on the officer trailing the end. he takes him out silently, pulling the officers knife from his waist, he makes his way up behind the 2nd officer. making a quick job of it, the last officer finally heard the drop of the body as he turned he was met with a furious & blood thirsty joel. as he watched the last soldier crumble he catches a glimpse of your signature green jacket, he quickly grabs you up & leads you directly to the apartment

as he quickly walks inside, dragging you along with him he finally feels a flood of relief. he releases his grip on your coat before letting out an infuriating grunt. remember that look seemingly on lucifer & now joel miller could give? yeah, it was worse than you imagined.

“what the hell were you doin’ out there?” he practically seethed.

you smirk, despite the situation. knowing you’re getting under his skin

“saving your ass miller. again.”

joel pinches the bridge of his nose before plopping down on the beat up couch & running a hand through his hair. he knows you can handle your own. he’s seen it first hand. so why was he feeling so scared? anxious even?

“you’re a pain in mine. ya know that?”

you plop down beside him, awaiting tess’ arrival as you mutter

“& yet, you keep dragging me out of trouble”

-

another few weeks pass & you start to notice joel’s gruff exterior is cracking. you notice how joel’s always ensuring you eat, that you & your grandpa both have enough. he took it upon himself to actually go meet your grandfather, informing him that you actually indeed did hold your own. that you didn’t take any shit, you were probably the strongest woman he knew. of course joel would never let you hear this words come out of his mouth. wouldn’t let tess hear them either. your grandpa gave joel a look, a look that made joel feel like he could see right through him. like he was a ghost haunting your home & your grandpa had him deciphered down to every exact pin point. since the world ended & everything went to shit after he lost sarah he never felt intimidated. never felt scared, but boy did your grandpa terrify the living daylights out of him with that wordless stare.

it wasn’t just this either, he always checked your weapons personally before any trades. making sure you had enough ammo & your flashlight had batteries before he even considered leaving the apartment. during fights, he never left your side. knowing all too well how impulsive & reckless you were, he was surprised you only ended up with a few dings & scrapes. a bullet graze twice. a couple stitches here & there. he wouldn’t let that happen again, absolutely couldn’t.

the night following a big job, you decided to crash on the well worn couch in joel’s apartment. your body swore & worn from the extensive journey. the blanket you brought over, strung over the back as you slide your boots off. the silence between you & joel carried tension, not the uncomfortable “i don’t want you here. you’re a stranger. get out” tension anymore, but something unreadable. you placed the book down as you glance over to joel, finding his eyes already lingering on you

“ya know, you care more than you let on”

joel immediately averts his gaze, staring out the window looking at the moon. he doesn’t respond but the way his jaw tightened was all the answer you needed

-

the next trade you go on, tess has a feeling about it. she doesn’t mention it of course, she just knows this buyer. Barry, was a good loyal buyer. always had the shit to spare. never really was specific, would take really anything they had to offer. but barry here has always taken a distinct liking to you. never backing down, always finding a way to smooth talk you. tess may act oblivious but she isn’t stupid. she’s realized the way joel seems happier with you around, she notices the way his eyes follow your every move. she even catches a few smiles on his face as your head turns. yeah. she isn’t stupid. so she isn’t shocked to admit this trade, may not go as expected.

you walk beside tess, talking a little about everything. from cars you used to think were cool, to asking questions like “do you think any astronauts got stuck in space when the world ended?”. tess laughed, but it wasn’t her usual laugh. you shrugged it off but joel took notice. was she nervous? tess was never nervous, on rare occasion she’d show the slightest bit of hesitation but never out right anxiety. this made joel’s mind race

what he didn’t expect, was this. raiders? sure, runners or clickers? yeah. usually a few, but no. this was far worse than any thing the end of the world brought. here this guy, bailey? barry? joel didn’t remember. as soon as he seen the guy graze your arm, all he seen was red.

“i’ve never met a woman as skilled as you are trouble, here take a few more cards. my treat”

the man winks at you, before you can say a word joel finds himself cutting in. before he can even process what he’s doing the words are already out

“she ain’t interested”

barry, whatever the fuck his name is asks

“are you sure about that?”

his eyes rake over you, joel grunts & lets the glare sink into his features

“postive.”

the man shrugs as he throws his hands up in mock defense, on the way back tess can’t help but bite back her smirk as she watches you jogging to catch up to joel

“didn’t know you cared cowboy”

you say with a smirk, of course you do. joel averts his gaze; his skin burning hot. hopefully he can just blame it on the sun, his brows are lined with sweat so it wouldn’t be completely unbelievable. he knows if he even spares a glance your way he’ll fold incredibly fast though so he thought it’s best not to chance it

he clench’s his jaw as he grunts out

“i don’t. just don’t need idiots like him fuckin’ up our deals”

you smirk to yourself as you fall back into step with tess, she glances to you then to the back of joel’s head as she shakes her head

-

it was late, if joel’s watch worked he’d have guested it was around 2am. unfortunately it was still stuck on the time his world ended. when sarah was taken from him. the bourbon tess traded for was half empty on the table. tess passed out on the corner of the couch. she drunkenly agreeing to giving you her bed for the night after you pulled her shoes off & tucked her in with the blanket you kept there.

“trouble i’m sleeping here. ain’t movin’”

she muttered out before she ultimately passed out, it was enduring but quite hilarious really. seeing your friends drinking in a world like this. let alone drunk, that was definitely a story you’d be telling every chance you got.

the night was peaceful now, the card games ended. the talk of future conquests & hopes of what you could trade for died on early in the night. it was just you & joel now, each nursing a glass of bourdon. feeling unbelievably tipsy you decided to bite the bullet & just ask joel. how would you ever know if you didn’t ask?

“tell me bout what you did before all this. what was your normal?”

you found yourself rushing it out before you gave yourself any second thoughts, you looked up at joel before shooting back the rest of the bourbon. he had a hesitant look in his eyes, the liquid courage definitely helping the sudden confidence he had to confide in you. he glanced at his watch again before he said

“had a daughter once. she was my everythin’”

joel quickly shot back the last of his bourbon as well, suddenly feeling very vulnerable. he never told anyone about sarah. not even tess knew; this was all new to him. was it too much? as he began to spiral your voice broke through the barrier

he half expected a snarky comment, something to lighten the mood but he doesn’t get that. instead he gets something he doesn’t know how to comprehend.

“she’d be proud of you, ya know? for surviving all this.”

joel finds himself glancing to the floor, hes at a loss for words. all this time he’s worried, would his baby girl be ashamed of the man he’s become? would she even love him? he never let that thought cross his mind, he doesn’t know what to say so he doesn’t say anything. you’re back in that comfortable silence. one that you only find with joel. your words stick with him, they’re now tattooed in. hoping to replace all the thoughts that are consumed with drowning him

-

as the month passed, it had been almost a year since you joined joel & tess’ team. you found yourself enjoying being over at theirs. you loved having them over for dinner with your grandpa. joel listened to every word your grandpa spoke, war stories, stories from your childhood like when you lit his shed on fire by trying to make “homemade fireworks”. joel let out a laugh, a deep belly laugh. this didn’t go unnoticed by tess, hell it wouldn’t have went unnoticed by you if you weren’t down the hall digging out some chest board your grandpa swore he still had. you enjoyed these nights, your worlds colliding. your grandpa understanding you were surrounded by good people, people that looked after you. that loved you.

the bickering between you & joel never stopped, if anything it’s at an all time high. the tensions palpable, if you’re not forcing a laugh out of joel you’re sending death threats with your eyes. it’s silly, to tess anyways. she can’t help but laugh, you find yourself in situations that are damn near humanly impossible, laughing when you get away from the 30th near death experience of the week & joels absolute seething. she’s convinced your an adrenaline junkie. that or you really wanna give joel a heartattack.

one evening though, as tess sunk into the couch she couldn’t help but think “this is how married couples fight”

you’re talking about a plan, neither you nor joel can agree on one aspect of the plan. usually by now, tess woukd intervene & agree with whoever’s sounded more logical. often times joel but occasionally you, she decided she wouldn’t cut in tonight. maybe if you were at each others throats long enough with no interruptions things could potentially progress. your words bounce off the walls as you smirk at joel

“let me guess- your plan is to glare them into submission?”

joel quips back

“& what’s yours? annoy ‘em to death?”

you roll your eyes as you turn towards the kitchen, joel sighs as he stomps over to the couch. everyone knows you care for each other in ways you won’t say out loud, trust each other. everyone but you & joel miller.

-

the following night, tess decided to pull joel aside. you went back to your grandpas, saying you’ll be there as early as possible (knowing you, it’ll be 11 the earliest). joel was reluctant. he didn’t like feeling so small under tess gaze, he wasn’t used to this. he had a feeling what this was about though he just prayed she wouldn’t dare speak on it. he knew she wasn’t stupid, he just hoped she was oblivious. joel knew better than to think that, she knew joel better than anyone besides tommy & thank god you hadn’t had to go through all that yet.

tess sighs

“you know what im gunna say miller”

joel grunts as he continues unpacking his bag, placing his new ration cards in the lose boards of the floor. tess speaks up again

“you know, she likes you right?”

joel sighs but answers just as gruffly as before, turning his back to tess as he mumbles

“she’s a pain in my ass”

tess laughs

“yeah & you’re smiling more than you have in years joel. don’t fuck it up”

-

[davrinsleftpectoral]

Surprise! Chapter 3 of Welcome to Nug E Cheese is here!

Read on AO3 HERE.

Thank you to @mythals-whore @genjyoandgojyoandhakkai and @blackwall-my-tiny-husband for letting your OCs come visit my little AU.

Also a snippet under the cut for this week’s Thursday Bangers. Thank you @woundedsoul12 @jenn2d2 @aetherflowers for the tags this week.

Rules for your Copy and Paste: Free form a blurb or drawing based on the weekly lyrics prompt. It doesn't have to include the prompt just whatever you're inspired to write, write it! Then tag some friends so they can play as well. It doesn't have to be finished on Thursday just post it whenever you can (you have a whole week between Thursdays).

All my friends we're glorious | Tonight we are victorious — Victorious by Panic! At The Disco

==

“Did you guys pick?” He asked them. 

“We’ve narrowed it down to Hightown Heist and DDI,” Harding replied. 

“Let the new guy choose,” suggested Taash. “It’s his first time playing either game, he should get to pick how he loses.”

Everyone turned to look at Lucanis. He waited a beat and then said stoically, “Hightown Heist.” His reply was met with various yesses and a few aws. 

“Okay!” Turvi rubbed his hands together. “We can only play in pairs. Best score wins. Lowest gets bathrooms. Winner gets to go home.” The others all nodded in agreement. 

Harding and Bellara went first, followed by Taash and Neve. During each match, everyone cheered and yelled, watching the game being played. Finally it was Lucanis and Turvi’s turn. Turvi turned to the other man and flashed him a smile and said, “Good luck!” Lucanis only raised his eyebrows in return. 

Turvi swiped his card for them both and they started playing. Each of them were aiming and firing at templars, attempting to make a getaway with a stolen shipment of lyrium. Turvi was laughing and having fun when he realized the game was announcing every time Lucanis got a bonus. Turvi usually just held down the trigger in these types of games, constantly spraying shots in an attempt to hit the most targets. Lucanis however was pulling the trigger for single shots. He was quickly aiming at target after target, taking out templars with one hit. Turvi stopped aiming his gun at all, in awe of Lucanis’ skill. The game continued announcing “Good shot! Double bonus!” over and over. Turvi watched open mouthed, shocked at Lucanis’ skill. 

The game ended and displayed their scores. Lucanis set a new high score for the machine. He entered his initials, nodded to the group, and left. 

Bellara looked up from her notebook and said, “Sorry Rook, you had the lowest score by a long shot.”

==

Definitely read the rest of this chapter. Some of these jokes are much better in context lol

Soft tagging in case you want to play or just want a notification that I put up a chapter @notyourmamasdeerbat @chaosherald @seaglassmelody @serensama @hedwigoprah @kabsey @cute-ellyna

[bg3daydream]

Creative (Davrin x Rook fic) Davrin's week day 5

A little one-shot for day 5 of Davrin's week organized by @datvcompanionweeks, inspired vaguely by the prompt "woodworking", "bestiary", "singing." I'll post it on AO3 too.

Summary: Despite what one might think at first glance, Rook's found that Davrin is actually quite a creative person, from his monster manual, to woodworking, to, on ocassion, singing. Fluff.

There were things about Davrin that you could guess at first glance. That he was strong, a warrior, and handsome. Then there were things you saw about him not long after meeting him. That he was smart, a quick learner and a quick thinker, otherwise he wouldn’t have survived all that he did and wouldn’t be a renowned monster hunter and grey warden. That he was brave, and selfless, and not only a warrior but a protector at it.

But there were things you only learned about him after spending time with him, in the quiet moments between duty and fights. That he was kind and caring, with a softer heart than you might have guessed at first glance.

That he was, actually, quite artistic, which Rook hadn’t imagined when first meeting him.

Now she loved looking at his notes for his monster manual, not only for the insightful, detailed information, but also for the doodles and drawings of monsters that Davrin sometimes made along the texts. He was good at it, quite good, but he’d just shrug whenever Rook told him.

He was good at whittling too. Whenever the team had free time to decompress and relax, more often than not, Davrin could be found whittling. He’d made quite a few by now, and sometimes Rook wondered about checking on him whenever she saw him whittling away for hours, but, considering everything that was going on, there were worse coping mechanisms.

There were carvings everywhere you looked in his room. Little wooden warriors, monsters, and different kinds of animals. Rook didn’t want to ask about the alarming number of nugs.

He’d also gifted carvings to everyone on the team. Bellara’s little wooden halla was as delicate as Taash’s dragon was fierce, a faithful rendering of the last one she’d fought, and one of Davrin’s biggest carvings. Emmrich had been almost as delighted with the wooden carved skull as if he’d been gifted a real one. Harding’s carved little arrows doubled as hairpins that now she used to hold her braids in place. Neve kept having her carved snakes stolen by wisps but Davrin was always happy to carve more. He’d even made a crow for Lucanis, no matter they were always bickering, with beautifully detailed feathers.

His first carving for Rook had been a fish because he said she didn’t have enough in her room. That was another thing about him, he could be fun. After that, he’d made her different renditions of “Rooks”, from birds to little towers, to bigger, detailed towers, rook birds perched on top of them.

Recently, Rook had learned something else about Davrin. He sang. Or at least, that was Eldrin, the elf who had cared for Davrin when he was a young dalish, had told her, that he used to sing to the halla they cared for. Davrin had seemed so flustered and had negated it so vehemently, that Rook knew it was true.

She’d been trying to remember hearing Davrin sing, but nothing came to mind. Though, now that she thought about it, hadn’t she heard Davrin humming before sometimes? While whittling, or when he was focused on writing or drawing for his monster manual? Yes, she thought so…

She’d resolved to catch him singing now, and she hadn’t managed, but she’d managed to sneak on him humming a few times, while he was whittling. It was honestly rather adorable and endearing, but Davrin didn’t seem to share her thoughts, stopping and rolling his eyes at her when he noticed her.

She also found him humming at Assan once, while he seemed to be grooming the griffon. That time, Davrin rolled his eyes at her but didn’t stop the humming as he kept working on Assan’s plumage.

“I wish you sang to me too,” Rook half-joked, sighing dramatically as she plopped down next to Davrin on the carpet.

“I’m not singing, I’m humming,” Davrin said as he carefully plucked a half-fallen feather. “Just to distract him so he lets me do this without trying to peck my fingers off.”

“He’s a well-behaved griffon, he wouldn’t do that,” Rook said and Assan gave her a look that seemed to say “bet?” but he did let Davrin finish grooming his feathers, running off as soon as he was finished, shaking both his eagle feathers and lion fur.

“I’d let you groom my feathers too if you sang to me,” Rook said, for reasons unknown even to her.

Davrin arched an eyebrow at her. “If that was flirting, it was the worst thing I’ve ever heard.”

Rook snorted, shrugging helplessly. “I don’t even know what that was.”

Davrin smirked at her. “You’d let me groom your feathers without needing to sing,” he kept her awful joke.

“Oh, confident, are-” Rook’s rebuke was cut short as Davrin’s lips found hers, and all her thoughts were gone as she let him lay her on her back over the carpet, his body pressed to hers as he kissed her.

*

Rook knew she should be sleeping. She knew that she had to be well rested and on her full strength for the fight that was coming the next day, when she and her team went to challenge the gods and all their armies again, on Tearstone Island. 

She also knew that she was bothering Davrin’s rest with all her tossing and turning next to him on the bed, and so she decided to give up and get up so at least Davrin could sleep undisturbed.

His arm tightened around her as she tried, though, stopping her. “Where are you going?”

“Somewhere else, I’m not letting you sleep moving so much.”

“Then stop moving and sleep,” Davrin told her as he pulled her even closer, her back pressed against his firm chest, his strong arm around her, and even his leg tangled with hers, stopping her from leaving and also from resuming her tossing and turning.

“I tried…too much in my head,” she sighed and felt Davrin nodding before he pressed a kiss to her shoulder.

“I know,” he said softly. “But you have to try, you need to rest.”

“Maybe if you sang me a lullaby I’d fall asleep,” Rook said and Davrin let out a sound that was half-exasperated sigh, half snort.

To her surprise, though, after a moment, Davrin began humming quietly. Rook didn’t say anything, but a smile spread across her face, and she snuggled back even closer to him as he kept softly humming a dalish lullaby to her.

Rook didn’t know how it worked, if it was magic, but slowly, she felt her body relax, her mind quiet, until eventually, she fell asleep.

**

N/A

Thanks for reading this little thing, if you liked this, please let me know in a comment, and as always, reblogs are more than welcome.

Hopefully, I'll be posting little fics each day of Davrin's week.

Excuse my English, it’s not my first language.

[postboxrose]

latest fanfics

Rules: Post the beginning lines of your most recent 10 published fanfics, then attempt to tag 10 people!

I was tagged by the coolest @dayntee and @theriothag and I took way too long to start putting this together, but thank you so so so much, both of you!! <3

1. XX. Judgement (Reversed) [ T | Dragon Age | solavellan | one-shot ]

A more insightful man could have looked back and pinned the point of no return from her. A wiser one might have even stopped himself short of it. Perhaps a stroke of luck could also have saved him, some minuscule chip of circumstance refusing to thread its bead onto the rope of his reality, letting it weave on and on and away and ahead, life stretching before him infinitely lighter for that missed look or unheard word or unfelt sigh. Infinitely heavier. Fate dangling down into the incomprehensible unknown, like the curve of a question mark, and she – loose, lovely and lost to him, could punctuate it from underneath. A dot to the line of his existence, small and infinite with purpose.

2. XVIII. The Moon [ E | Dragon Age | solavellan | chapterfic ]

The aftermath of their first kiss was frantic and chaotic, like the fluttering of wings as summer birds landed home in time for spring. It had lifted something up in her, but it had also passed as quickly as it had started. Luella only had the vague feeling of self-assuredness and the faint echo of a hot tongue thrust inside her mouth to guide her through the solid form of If I could take a little time to think. Walking an endless hallway, waiting for a door to unlock from the other side. She knew how to wait, she knew how to wait, she knew how to wait. She would have him take all the time he would need.

3. XIX. The Sun [ E | Dragon Age | solavellan | one-shot ]

The quiet glade she’d found for them stretched around him, grass soft beneath his feet. Sunlight trickled down, rustling the leaves in the forest nearby, gently stroking each petal of the wildflowers about, warm on his skin. It was early afternoon when they arrived and left their little cart in the shade, freeing their horses to roam. Nothing but halla could disturb them here, they had seen nothing but halla for miles. Perhaps a few nugs. Luella had given him a rare treat in the weeks leading up to this, letting him witness the gentle way she’d wrapped her advisors around her fingers, like strands of hair she was about to braid. No one had questioned her, although Solas had known quite quickly there had been plenty to question. The unfamiliar list of items she’d requested of Leliana, the small scouting mission she’d asked of Cullen, the clearing of her schedule she’d worked from Josephine. The Inquisition missing its Inquisitor for close to a week.

4. XV. The Devil [ E | Dragon Age | solavellan | one-shot ]

Winter had pressed her last certain day on earth into an impossibly short ordeal, the sun having risen some time before lunch and set some time after, with no rays peering over the mountainous entombment of Skyhold, no warmth to touch her face. The grounds had been covered in a blanket of silence broken only by the buzz of hands moving, of work being done. All eyes had looked down, all mouths had danced around speaking their farewells, as if giving them breath would somehow solidify some morose future. Boots shuffled through the mud in the wet snow. The servant girls washed the entrance of the main hall constantly, pointlessly. Luella had plastered her face into the thick mask of bravery before she’d even brushed her hair that morning, lest someone saw the desolate landscape that lay behind. Her palm throbbed dully, constantly, the anchor wrapping between her fingers like a lining to her glove, like a toothache dipped in silk.

I haven't hit anywhere close to 10 separate pieces, sorry!! I did write some fanfiction before solavellan, but all of it is very old and all of it was h*rry p*tter and thus now privated, since I don't want to support the source for the hopefully obvious reasons.

The order is the same as in the series I'm writing, which is to say: chronological for the story, not for the order of writing! So quality will vary (hehe) (i forbid myself from rewrites)

Thank you again so much for tagging me!!! This game has been such a blessing for my dashboard, my TBR has grown with so many beautiful fics <3 <3 <3

I'll tag ten people with no care for double-tagging, but to anyone reading this: most of them HAVE been tagged before, so please consider yourself tagged AS WELL. this never works but i always mean it. pls. help me cheat the system and tag eleven (or twelve! or thirteen!) Ping ping: @chronicsolasapologist, @contessaxchaos, @elynnism, @bitch-queen-of-angmar (mimmi i am SO SERIOUS), @crittadownunder (same goes to you, critta, i will haunt you), @liberaquantobasta-catossa, @kithsana, @alice-dead, @psykergirl, @christinabindon !!! hope to see you in my notifs soon

[mosswiind]

fic concept I need someone to run with:

Vivienne, talking with a friend, dispelling rumours about her and the Inquisitor doin it after Duke Bastiens passing

Vivienne's like, I mean maybe???? if I had met him now???? as Inquisitor???? as a confident, socially canny man, maybe???? But unfortunately for him I met him when he was just Lavellan, a dirty shrimp who was too big for his britches. I saw him cry because he shot a nug by accident once. I have seen two thirds of his ass after his armor was sundered by a bear (not impressed). I have seen him pratfall into, conservatively, twenty sand dunes. At this point he would have to be the Maker.