anari3l

[anari3l]

Welcome to Sanctuary, Part 3

Pairings: Nate/Sole Survivor x Merc!Reader

Warnings: Canon typical violence. Language

“Welcome to Sanctuary.”

You hadn’t felt truly “welcome” in any settlement since you were a child. Quincy had been the closest, and then you had left, got a job as a caravan guard, and the settlement had been raided. 

Nate’s settlements, though some were no more than a farmstead, were all welcoming. As you started to travel with Provisioners and caravans headed from Bunker Hill and The Castle to Sanctuary, you noticed that even if the settlements housed no more than a single family, there was a dry place for a caravan to bunk down and rest, relatively safely.

Sanctuary definitely lived up to its name. Nate had built walls around the most prone areas of the small island, guard posts and walkways constructed atop the walls, and enough turrets that you were surprised the sound of their mechanical whirring didn’t drown out the sound of the bustling little town.

“Would that be all?” Codsworth, the Mister Handy, you had seen following Nate around, spun to face you, a bottle of purified water in its claw. 

You nodded, dropping a handful of caps into the jar as payment for the water. “Yes,” you answered. “Thanks.”

“My pleasure!”

Sitting down on a bench just outside the makeshift open air market, you watched the townspeople 

Sanctuary had grown into a formidable settlement beneath the Minutemen and Nate’s guidance. The rotted and rusted out pre-war homes that stood offered a practical and sturdy skeleton to build around. 

There was a working farm, enough fresh produce to feed everyone in town, as well as all the caravans and passing provisioners. There were enough beds for everyone, with warm, real mattresses and clean (to post-war standards) linens and pillows. The armory and workshops in the center of town were open for everyone to use, except Nate’s private home, of course. The small town all agreed The General’s place was his and his alone.

Nate, you came to find out, was usually found within one of two buildings when not on patrol or up on the guard posts - The General’s House, or the makeshift tavern that had been built on an old house foundation at the opening of the cul-de-sac. 

Today, he was bent over a pool table on the second floor of the tavern. Travis’s voice came through from the radio tuned to Diamond City’s station, and the overhead ceiling fan circled lazily. It seemed so normal, so mundane. You couldn’t believe a single man had rebuilt the Minutemen and a whole town to this degree.

“Hope I’m not disturbing anything,” you spoke up as you stepped onto the second floor landing. “Surprised you found a quiet area to yourself.”

Nate chuckled but didn’t look up as he leaned closer to the map, pencil in hand. You froze, turning back to the pool table, “Unless you want to be alone and kicked everyone out?”

Nate chuckled again, leaning on his elbow, bent at the waist, and practically laying on the pool table as he marked a spot on the map. “No, I didn’t kick anyone out.” He made a few more pencil marks before standing back up. “It’s empty up here in the daytime. Wait till sundown, and everyone will be up here.”

“Gotcha,” you nodded, mentally jotting that note down. “What’re you working on?”

He sighed, looking down to the map. “Mapping out my provisioners’ routes,” he answered. “The Pip-Boy can keep track in the most basic of terms, but not road by road.”

You nodded along, noticing that the Pip-Boy he usually wore was on the table behind him, turned off. “Problems with provisioners?”

“Yeah,” he answered, brow furrowed. After a moment of silence, he waved you over, motioning to the map. “How familiar are you with Quincy and the surrounding area?”

“Born and raised,” you answered. 

Nate chuckled, “Same. How well do you know Raider hideouts in the area?”

“Fine, I guess,” you shrugged.. “They’ve been mostly in the same holes. Why?”

He looked up, stepping around the pool table to stand across from you, “This route,” he started, following a pencil mark with his finger, “Is constantly getting hit.” 

You stepped up and looked down to the map. It was old, probably pre-war and found in some ruin somewhere, the paper slightly yellowed and fragile. The creases and folds were worn thin, the ink faded and barely legible. 

Nate had used a pencil and crossed out a wide area of the coast between University Point and Quincy, and in bold, all-caps, wrote ‘WATERLINE’. Evidently, the water had risen in the 200 years since the map was printed. 

“Uh,” you droned, “I’ve noticed that they’ve been trying to get back into the Quarry,” you started, pointing to Quincy Quarries on the map. “Don’t know how they ever lost that place. Keep getting hit passing through.”

“Good,” Nate nodded, crossing his arms over his chest. “Means my defenses are holding up.”

You met his gaze, a quizzical look on your face. “Your defenses?”

He nodded. “Cleared out the quarry a while ago. Found an unfinished vault. One of my newest settlements.” 

“Think you should think about some patrols in that area, then,” you hummed. “Pissed off some Raiders with that one.”

Nate’s lips squished to the side in thought, staring down at the map. “I think I’ve got a better idea,” he started as he reached to roll the map up. “You heading out anytime soon?”

You shook your head. “No. No caravans need an extra hand right now.”

“Wanna tag along, then?”

You froze. Did he just ask you to travel with him? He had his inner circle of companions he trusted to watch his back, and up until today, you thought you hadn’t been included in that circle. You met his eye as he started to strap the Pip-Boy back to his wrist, “‘scuse me?”

Nate chuckled. “I know you can handle a gun. Offer’s on the table. You’ll get half of all caps I scrounge up.”

You barked out a shocked laugh. “This how you hire all your guards?”

Nate chuckled. “Leaving in an hour, if you’re comin’,” he nodded, stepping past you and heading downstairs.

***

A sharp whistle broke you out of your thoughts, and you turned as Nate strode up to the bridge just outside Sanctuary, Dogmeat following close behind. “So, you comin’?” he asked, adjusting the strap of the pack he wore on his back. 

“I guess so,” you answered. “Maybe I’ll finally figure you out this way.”

[anari3l]

My requests are open! Send me anything!

Romance Prompt Questions:

✨ First Times ✨

To spark some positive fandom enthusiasm, I thought I'd try creating a ~fun little ask prompt~, so here goes!

Send an ask with "The first time..." and fill in the rest with whatever you like - then receive snippets, headcanons, or a mix of both!

This can be serious ("the first time character A confided something in character B" / "the first time character B thought about kissing character A" / "the first time they dealt with loss together") or entirely silly ("the first time character A heard character B snoring" / "the first time character A's uniform was horribly out of place in front of character B" / "the first time they laughed so hard they cried together").

I encourage all writers and non-writers alike to participate however they wish! This isn't about creating mesmerizing prose, but about sharing in each others' love of the Characters™.

[anari3l]

It's my 10 year anniversary on Tumblr 🥳

[anari3l]

WELCOME TO THE WOOD!

Requests are always open. Send asks or submissions for fanfics.

This is not a safe space for minors. If you're under 18, please go away.

I refuse to write anything involving: pedophilia, rape, incest, yandere. I WILL delete asks with any of the above.

I will write: angst, consensual smut, fluff.

Fandoms I write for: Lord of the Rings/The Hobbit, Red Dead Redemption, Overwatch, Dragon Age, Baldur's Gate 3, Hell on Wheels (AMC), Fallout 4, Assassin's Creed

I am also on AO3 as kaclydid

AO3 Links:

The Lord of the Rings/ The Hobbit

Writings from the Wood

Red Dead Redemption 2

Humors of Whiskey - Arthur Morgan x Reader

Wildflowers - Humors of Whiskey prequel drabbles

Hell on Wheels

Far Away - Cullen Bohannon x Reader

I'll Try - Cullen Bohannon x Reader

Fallout 4

Welcome to Sanctuary - Nate/Sole Survivor x Reader

Overwatch

Cupcake - Jesse McCree X Reader/Cole Cassidy X Reader (Pls note, starting writing this before the name change, so name randomly changes)

Assassin's Creed

With a Little Luck and Grace - Shay Cormac x Reader

Blighter - Jacob Frye x Reader

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

If you like my work, my tips are up and running here on tumblr, or I have a Patreon (mostly my own art and writing projects) and Kofi.

Thank you!

[anari3l]

WELCOME TO THE WOOD!

Requests are always open. Send asks or submissions for fanfics.

This is not a safe space for minors. If you're under 18, please go away.

I refuse to write anything involving: pedophilia, rape, incest, yandere. I WILL delete asks with any of the above.

I will write: angst, consensual smut, fluff.

Fandoms I write for: Lord of the Rings/The Hobbit, Red Dead Redemption, Overwatch, Dragon Age, Baldur's Gate 3, Hell on Wheels (AMC), Fallout 4, Assassin's Creed

I am also on AO3 as kaclydid

AO3 Links:

The Lord of the Rings/ The Hobbit

Writings from the Wood

Red Dead Redemption 2

Humors of Whiskey - Arthur Morgan x Reader

Wildflowers - Humors of Whiskey prequel drabbles

Hell on Wheels

Far Away - Cullen Bohannon x Reader

I'll Try - Cullen Bohannon x Reader

Fallout 4

Welcome to Sanctuary - Nate/Sole Survivor x Reader

Overwatch

Cupcake - Jesse McCree X Reader/Cole Cassidy X Reader (Pls note, starting writing this before the name change, so name randomly changes)

Assassin's Creed

With a Little Luck and Grace - Shay Cormac x Reader

Blighter - Jacob Frye x Reader

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

If you like my work, my tips are up and running here on tumblr, or I have a Patreon (mostly my own art and writing projects) and Kofi.

Thank you!

[anari3l]

Welcome To Sanctuary, Part 2

Pairings: Nate/Sole Survivor x Merc!Reader

Warnings: Canon typical violence. Language.

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

Nate stood his ground, seemingly unfazed by the Raiders pointing their guns at him. ‘Cowered’ wouldn’t normally be a word you used to describe yourself, but you knew how Raiders operated, and the gunshot wound in your shoulder was testament to how far they would go to raid a caravan. So, you cowered in the corner of the small building, hoping they would leave.

The small farm was near the coast, small enough to be more of a caravan stop than a true farm under the protection of the Minutemen. Only one settler lived here, and they kept pretty much locked in the fallout shelter in their basement when caravans weren’t around, you had been told.

“This fucker?” The Raider in the front, who you assumed was the leader of the gang, cursed, spitting in Nate’s general direction. “What’s some fuckin’ vault dweller going to do to us?”

You watched, pressing your hand against the wound in your upper arm harder, trying to staunch the bleeding. The raiders behind the leader seemed to know something their leader didn’t, and were anxiously flicking their gazes from Nate to their boss and back.

“He’s not just some fuckin’ vault dweller. He’s … He’s Nuka’s Overboss!” one of the raiders behind the leader spoke up, looking nervously over to Nate.

“Heard all about ‘im,” another piped up, voice jittery with the effects of Jet. “Killed Colter without breakin’ a sweat!”

Your brow furrowed as you tried to lean around Nate to get a look at his face. He stood stock still, rifle held across his chest, trigger finger resting against the barrel. His shoulders were squared, gaze hard as he stared at the Raider leader.

“There ain’t enough caps in the world!”

The boss scoffed, turning back to Nate and taking a step forward. “He’s just some vault dweller protectin’ his farm.”

Nate smirked, head lifting just slightly as he watched the Raider. “I’d listen to them if I were you,” he started. “They’re probably the smartest Raiders I’ve dealt with this far East. What do they call you? Bloodshed?”

The Raider’s gaze hardened as he turned on Nate. “It’s Blood Knuckle, and you –”

“Ah, yes,” Nate nodded, cutting the Raider off as he raised his fist, showing off the rather impressive, blood-stained Power Fist he wore - a testament to his name. “I got it.”

You watched as Nate took a deep, exaggerated breath, shoulders bouncing as he relaxed out of his stance. “Well, I mean, you can try to fight,” Nate started, and you watched as almost a pleased smile spread across his features. “You’re not going to win. Your boys know it. I know it.”

The rest of the Raider gang were standing, weapons held in front of them, but all clearly itching to get as far away as possible, you noted. Your own gun was resting in your lap, ready to fight if needed.

“Some Vault dweller, Raider wanna-be ain’t scarin’ me!” Knuckle started, taking another threatening step towards Nate. “Wasn’t scared of Colter, ain’t scared of you.”

Nate watched him take another step, the unmistakable sound of the Power Fist coming to life filling the air around the small room. Within a blink, and with a sickly crunching sound, you watched as the butt of Nate’s rifle came down on Knuckle’s nose, shattering it.

As Knuckle reeled from the hit, Nate stepped back, glancing over to you with a nod that said “it’s gonna be alright”. You had seen that same nod and look, heard him mutter those words to almost every settler you passed in your travels. The General of the Minutemen, calming, kind, there to protect.

As you looked back up to Nate, you didn’t see the Minutemen General, but a Raider Boss, eyes hard and rifle raised. He circled around Knuckle, crouched on the floor and holding a hand to his broken nose, and addressed the rest of the gang. “I’ll pay you more than you’ll get from this joke, or I can kill you all,” Nate started. “Choose wisely.”

The three other raiders lowered their weapons, dropping them to the dirt and raising their hands over their heads in surrender.

“You fucks!” Knuckle cursed, pushing to his full height and rearing his Power-fist clad arm back to prepare for a very powerful punch right at Nate’s head.

Nate didn’t hesitate, and before you knew it, a gunshot was ringing out throughout the small cabin. The bullet had lodged in Knuckle’s chest, square in the center, disregarding any of the armor he was wearing. You watched as Nate slowly lowered his gun, stepping forward.

“I told you.”

As Knuckle slumped over, dead, Nate rose to his full height, shrugging the strap of his rifle over his shoulder and whistling through his teeth to the other raiders. “Get this body out of here. Report to the Nuka station if you want a job. If you don’t, best believe I’ll shoot on sight next time you cross a settlement.”

The raiders nodded, hurriedly moving to grab Knuckle and pull his lifeless body out of the building. Nate waited until they were well down the path towards the beach before closing the rotten door and turning to you.

“Come on, I’ve got a stimpak.”

Your brow furrowed as you watched Nate’s imaginary mask fall back into Minutemen General. His features softened as he removed the ridiculous cowboy hat he wore, and the bandana around his neck as if he was shedding the layers that made up the Raider boss.

You relaxed back against the wall as you watched him fumble through his pack for a stimpak and first aid supplies. Finally, you spoke up, “Nuka’s Overboss? That place still up and running?”

Nate chuckled, kneeling beside you and stabbing the stimpak into the fat of your shoulder, just above the bullet wound. As he ripped your sleeve open to look at the wound, he nodded. “It’s a huge misunderstanding, actually.”

“Doesn’t sound like a misunderstanding,” you hummed, watching him work. “And we’ve got time.”

Nate met your gaze. “I was out exploring and found Gunners had set up shop in the transit station out West. I was just looking for scrap and salvage, came up on a Raider pretending to be a hurt settler. Tricked me into taking the train to Nuka World.”

“Find it hard to believe you were tricked into anything,” you answered. “Thought that place was a trading post now?”

Nate shook his head. “Raiders moved in years ago. And apparently, their boss was disliked by everyone. They funneled all travelers and settlers through a gauntlet. I impressed them by surviving and was put up in a one to one fight with the boss. Winner took over.”

“Colter …” you hummed, thinking back to any gossip you had heard about Raider gangs around the Boston area. “Wasn’t he some super powerful boss, though? Everyone was scared of him.”

“Yeah, well, he was a cheater,” Nate smirked, patting your shoulder as he tied off the bandage he had been working on. “Was able to connect his power armor to the power grid of the Nuka Cars ride. Essentially creating an electric current throughout his body that protected him in his armor.”

“How’d you beat him?”

Nate chuckled, reaching into his pack and pulling out a small, red, plastic pistol. “Water gun.”

“Fuck off.”

Nate shrugged, stuffing the plastic pistol back into his bag. “It’s the truth.”

You glared at him. “Not sure I’m ever going to be able to tell if you’re lying.”

“Most people can’t,” he said with a chuckle, dropping down to sit against the wall beside you. “Get some rest. We’ll camp here for the night.”

[anari3l]

Been wanting to get back into posting. Let's start with a get to know the author!

Weird Questions for Writers (because writers are weird)

1. What font do you write in? Do you actually care or is that just the default setting?

2. If you had to give up your keyboard and write your stories exclusively by hand, could you do it? If you already write everything by hand, a) are you a wizard and b) pen or pencil?

3. What is your writing ritual and why is it cursed?

4. What’s a word that makes you go absolutely feral?

5. Do you have any writing superstitions? What are they and why are they 100% true?

6. What is your darkest fear about writing?

7. What is your deepest joy about writing?

8. If you had to write an entire story without either action or dialogue, which would you choose and how would it go?

9. Do you believe in ghosts? This isn’t about writing I just wanna know

10. Has a piece of writing ever “haunted” you? Has your own writing haunted you? What does that mean to you?

11. Do you believe in the old advice to “kill your darlings?” Are you a ruthless darling assassin? What happens to the darlings you murder? Do you have a darling graveyard? Do you grieve?

12. If a genie offered you three writing wishes, what would they be? Btw if you wish for more wishes the genie turns all your current WIPs into Lorem Ipsum, I don’t make the rules

13. What is a subject matter that is incredibly difficult for you write about? What is easy?

14. Do you lend your books to people? Are people scared to borrow books from you? Do you know exactly where all your “lost” books are and which specific friend from school you haven’t seen in twelve years still possesses them? Will you ever get them back?

15. Do you write in the margins of your books? Dog-ear your pages? Read in the bath? Why or why not? Do you judge people who do these things? Can we still be friends?

16. What’s the weirdest thing you’ve ever used as a bookmark?

17. Talk to me about the minutiae of your current WIP. Tell me about the lore, the history, the detail, the things that won’t make it in the text.

18. Choose a passage from your writing. Tell me about the backstory of this moment. How you came up with it, how it changed from start to end. Spicy addition: Questioner provides the passage.

19. Tell me a story about your writing journey. When did you start? Why did you start? Were there bumps along the way? Where are you now and where are you going?

20. If a witch offered you the choice between eternal happiness with your one true love and the ability to finally finish, perfect, and publish your dearest, darlingest, most precious WIP in exactly the way you've always imagined it — which would you choose? You can’t have both sorry, life’s a bitch

21. Could you ever quit writing? Do you ever wish you could? Why or why not?

22. How organized are you with your writing? Describe to me your organization method, if it exists. What tools do you use? Notebooks? Binders? Apps? The Cloud?

23. Describe the physical environment in which you write. Be as detailed as possible. Tell me what’s around you as you work. Paint me a picture.

24. How much prep work do you put into your stories? What does that look like for you? Do you enjoy this part or do you just want to get on with it?

25. What is a weird, hyper-specific detail you know about one of your characters that is completely irrelevant to the story?

26. How do you get into your character’s head? How do you get out? Do you ever regret going in there in the first place?

27. Who is the most stressful character you’ve ever written? Why?

28. Who is the most delightful character you’ve ever written? Why?

29. Where do you draw your inspiration? What do you do when the inspiration well runs dry?

30. Talk to me about the role dreams play in your writing life. Have you ever used material from your dreams in your writing? Have you ever written in a dream? Did you remember it when you woke up?

31. Write a short love letter to your readers.

32. What is a line from a poem/novel/fanfic etc that you return to from time and time again? How did you find it? What does it mean to you?

33. Do you practice any other art besides writing? Does that art ever tie into your writing, or is it entirely separate?

34. Thoughts on the Oxford comma, Go:

35. What’s your favorite writing rule to smash into smithereens?

36. They say to Write What You Know. Setting aside for a moment the fact that this is terrible advice...what do you Know?

37. If you were to be remembered only by the words you’ve put on the page, what would future historians think of you?

38. What is something about your writing process YOU think is Really Weird? If you are comfortable, please share. If you’re not comfortable, what do you think cats say about us?

39. What keeps you writing when you feel like giving up?

40. Please share a poem with me, I need it.

[anari3l]

Hey ... just wanted to say I love your work! I was thinking maybe you could write a Bohannon x reader where she's Durant's daughter/niece and we're looking at a secret/smutty story? Thanks!

Words: 784 /// Pairing: Cullen Bohannon x Durant!Reader /// Warnings: Slight hint of smut. MDNI. 18+ /// Notes: Finally got something down for this ask. Definitely think I may continue.

It wasn’t every day you kissed a random stranger, let alone sleep with one. You weren’t sure what had gotten over you - you hadn’t been drinking, you’d never be caught dead in a saloon, and you were not a woman of the night who slept with men for a few coins come morning. 

But his intense gaze, soft smile, and even softer kisses had you falling head over heels for the man. 

Cullen’s lips on your neck, his hands on your waist as he bunched the fabric of your skirt up in the back of a wagon at some depot in the middle of nowhere was intoxicating. The six days you had spent traveling alongside him in the coach were enough to get to know the man on an amiable level, culminating in an intense night together. 

***

"Oh go get fucked by the horse you rode in on!"

Cullen's eyes widened at the words, and he spun on his heel, ready to break up a fight. He almost had to laugh at the statement, though, the words coming from a rather sweet sounding young woman. Across the muddy street, the working girls standing on the small porch of the boarding house were in fits of laughter, their heads thrown back and hands holding their sides at your outburst.

Clearing his throat, with a "'Scuse me, ladies" as he stepped up onto the small porch, he was barely able to dodge a slap aimed directly at his face. Catching the wrist, he met your gaze, eyes wide and a bemused smirk lighting his face.

At realizing the man you had almost slapped wasn't the man who had been catcalling and trailing after you all morning, your eyes widened and your wrist went limp in Cullen's grip as recognition hit. 

Cullen. The man you had shared a rather intimate ride in a coach with 3 weeks ago was standing in front of you. 

He had said he was heading to the Wyoming territory to work, but finding him here, in Durant - or Cheyenne as you learned it was now called - was something you weren’t expecting. 

“Terribly sorry.” You shook yourself, taking your wrist back and dusting off your front as you looked around the street. The drunk who had been pestering you wandering off in the direction he had come, waving you and Cullen off. 

Cullen bit back a smirk as he waved off your apology. "Heard a bit of commotion over here, everything all right?"

Eva nodded from her spot on the small porch. The girls around her filed back inside to go about whatever business they needed to tend to. "Miss here's got a mouth on her worse than my girls."

You blushed, ducking your head away. "I'm terribly sorry, it flew out before I could think."

Cullen laughed, a bark he couldn’t keep in as the crowd dispersed. "Hear a lot worse than that 'round these parts." He looked you over, catching your gaze. “Heading to Wyoming, you said.”

“Never said you were heading to Cheyenne,” you replied.

Cullen smirked. “You didn’t ask.”

You furrowed your brows. “Didn’t give me time with the way you were –”

“Ah, there you are!” The voice cut off your thought, making you clamp your mouth shut. 

You heard your name called from behind you and you spun, plastering a smile on your face. Cullen took a step to the side as Durant stepped up, cigar in hand and looking every bit pleased with himself. “Mister Bohannon,” he greeted. 

“Durant,” Cullen nodded, tucking his thumbs into his belt as he relaxed, one foot propped on the wooden walk. 

“I’ve just had lunch with General Grant,” Durant started. “He’s had some fine ideas I believe we can start to move forward with.”

“Looking forward to speaking with him,” Cullen replied before motioning to you as you stepped aside. “I was just speaking to miss …” he trailed off, realizing you had never given him a surname during your last meeting. 

“My daughter,” Durant interjected with your name, holding a hand out between you and Cullen. “Mister Cullen Bohannon, Chief Engineer of the Union Pacific.”

You noted the disdain lacing your father’s words as he introduced Cullen. “Pleased to meet you, Mister Bohannon.”

Cullen’s blue eyes were wide with shock, but he managed to tip his hat at you. “Pleasure, Miss Durant.” At your name, he shot you a glare. 

“We have much to discuss, and I am sure your mother is wondering where’ve you run off to,” Durant sighed, flicking the ash from his cigar with his finger. 

“Yes, of course,” you nodded, following after your father after nodding to Cullen. “Farewell.”

“Shit,” Cullen groaned, turning on his heel.

[anari3l]

It's my 9 year anniversary on Tumblr 🥳

Wow... happy bday to me!🎉

[anari3l]

Cupcake Epilogue

Pairing: Cole Cassidy x Reader // Words: 627 //Warnings: FLUFF // Notes: I read my own notes wrong for requests and this happened. // Cupcake Master list is here

Pizza, beer, and movies had always been “date night” for you and Cole. Long before you had been dating, and even longer before you had finally been married.

As the years went on, after Overwatch had fallen and you all went your separate ways, it was easy to fall back into an idyllic relationship, one that had formed years ago as recruits, and one the both of you had dreamt of.

“Alright,” Cole smiled, plopping onto the couch with a bowl of popcorn and two beers in hand. “What are we watching tonight, darlin’?”

You smiled, pulling the water bottle from the back pocket of his jeans as he sat forward, aware he had almost squashed the plastic container. As he settled back in the cushions, you stretched your legs over his lap, folding your hands on top of your belly, balancing the water bottle on the large bump.

“Thought you wanted to watch an old western?” you started, “Change your mind?”

Cole shrugged, kicking his feet onto the coffee table and draping an arm over the back of the couch. “How ‘bout something we ain’t never seen before?” he asked, scrolling through the movie options on screen. “Just pick something and see where it goes?”

“Deal,” you nodded, adjusting so you sat against his chest, shoulder to shoulder. “Now pass the popcorn,” you made grabby hands for the bowl on his other side, “And the Tums. Our peanut has already kick-started my nightly heartburn.”

Movie nights had always ended up with one or both of you falling asleep on the couch, blankets shared between the two of you. The TV had long turned itself off to save power, the movie and credits long over and forgotten as both of you fell asleep before the ending.

Cole shifted as he felt you shift against him, trying to get comfortable as you laid on his lap. Blinking his eyes open, he rubbed at them before running a hand through his hair. He smiled as his hand came to rest against your abdomen, your pregnant belly supported by a throw pillow. “Lettin’ your mama finally get some shut eye, huh?” he mumbled.

He sat there for a moment before stretching out the stiffness in his joints, resigning himself to the fact that he would have to wake you to get you into the bedroom. He missed the days the two of you slept on the couch all night, or those nights you fell asleep and he carried you into the bedroom, smiling at the uttered protests that you were “just resting your eyes”.

He yawned, sitting up. “Darlin’, come on. Wakey wakey,” he said gently, running his finger over your hairline and down your cheek. “Can’t sleep on the couch.”

You mumbled something in your sleepy daze, but started to push up into a sitting position. “How’d the movie end?” you asked on a yawn.

Cole matched your yawn with a smile, tossing the blanket and remote onto the cushion. “Think we both fell asleep, darlin’.”

You took the hand he offered to help you stand, taking a moment to balance yourself as you rose. “When was the last time we finished a movie?”

Cole smiled, guiding you to the bedroom and turning off lights as you went. “Can’t remember,” he answered, quickly changing into his pajamas as you fluffed the pillows on your side of the bed. “Maybe one day we will.”

You nodded as he slid into bed behind your back, arm draping over your waist so his hand sat comfortably on your stomach. “Love you, cowboy.”

He kissed your shoulder. “Love you too, darlin’.” As your soft snores filled the air, he nuzzled closer to your back, his hand splaying along your stomach. “Love ya both.”

[anari3l]

I had so much trouble deciding on only one situation, but given my own situation I finally decided to go with this. Could I please get 65 with either 4 or 26 for thranduil? Love your work

Pairing: Thranduil x Reader // Words: 953 // Warnings: Abusive ex/abusive partner. Hint of sexy activities. 18+ // Summary: Thranduil saves you from an abusive partner

READ THE WARNINGS AND TAGS BEFORE CONTINUING

Note: I'm really sorry this took forever. I wanted to write this right, and kept restarting. I hope your situation and anyone else in a position such as this has someone to help them through it. I send love and hugs along to all my readers out there.

***

He didn’t know how someone could have been so rough with you. A monster who had broken down every wall and taken more than he was given, leaving you a husk of your former self.

If he had been a smarter elf, a smarter prince, he would have asked you to marry him when you were both young, before devastation and loss. But he hadn’t. He married for the kingdom, bore an heir, and lost his Queen within a span of years unrivaled to the years of a man’s life. Thus, he opened a path for your life, a path towards a young, upstart of a Guard.

He had seemed strong and protective, and as the years went on, Thranduil had lost touch with you and your forming family as his duties grew after his father’s death.

And he hated himself for it.

Watching as you shrunk back from the elf, a lump rose in Thranduil’s throat. You were scared. Your eyes downcast, and hands clasped in front of you, but Thranduil could see the whiteness forming on your knuckles as you clutched just a bit too tightly to your skirts.

As King, he could have walked right up to you, broken up the conversation and sent the guard – your husband and lover – on his way. With an order, Thranduil could make it so he would never harm you, yet he had been frozen to the floor as if captured in a magic hold. But as you turned to walk down the corridor towards him, Thranduil’s anger bubbled up and he found himself stepping up to you, the bruise against your cheek wasn’t hidden by any cosmetics, or any elven magic, and stood stark against your skin.

Throughout the years Thranduil should have done something, he knew. A naiveté formed in him as he continued to bond with you as a top advisor and friend, pushing the thought of your husband from both of your minds when you were together, as if those days you were together would somehow fix any problem the two of you had. He saw you laugh, smile, the light returned to your eyes as you strode side by side along the halls.

It wasn’t often his kind remarried - or left their lovers for that matter. It wasn’t often someone watched the one they loved be broken down to someone they no longer knew. He loved you. He always had, and seeing you with the monster your husband had turned out to be was killing him inside.

“Your Highness?”

Thranduil’s head lifted as he looked to the guard in the yard across from him. He had been lost in thought, his anger slowly rising as the day had unfolded. Standing at the edge of the clearing, Legolas sat, pressing a damp cloth to your head to staunch the bleeding cut at your hairline.

The moment he had raised a hand against you, Thranduil’s resolve broke. “Do not.”

The guard sheathed his sword, taking a step towards you with a muttering of your name. Thranduil’s sword came up to halt his path, the blade sitting at heart’s height. Meeting the guard’s gaze, Thranduil’s icy blue gaze hardened evermore.

“She is my wife, I must protect –”

“No.” Thranduil’s voice echoed around the clearing, all the guards around standing at attention at the commanding tone. None had dared step up to fight alongside the guard in solidarity. They knew their King was no match on the battlefield. “You have disrespected your oath to the kingdom,” he started, steppling slowly towards your husband, sword still blocking his path. “You have dishonored your vows to protect those who cannot protect themselves. You have armed an innocent, and drawn blood.”

Coming to stand face to face with the guard, who had the gall to square his shoulders and match the King’s glare, as if in yet another invitation to fight, Thranduil hardened, his chin raising ever so slightly as he lowered his sword. “For these crimes, you are banished. Leave. Now. Never return.”

“But my wife—”

“Is under the protection of the Woodland Realm, and the Royal Family. And you, are trespassing. If you ever step foot into my forest, I will know, and you will spend the rest of your days rotting away in a cell never to see the light of day.”

***

The banishment had come as a bit of a surprise. You wished Thranduil had killed Elian. Wished he had gotten the same treatment you had endured over the years.

You told Thranduil everything that had happened that night, crying into his chest as his arms wrapped around you. The tears weren’t for your husband, or rather ex-husband. You cried in relief as you were finally able to confess all he had done to you.

“I am sorry, meleth,” Thranduil murmured against your hair, brushing a finger over the line of the cut on your temple. “I am sorry it took me so long to free you of him.”

Thranduil had always made you feel loved, safe, and protected. As he lay you on his bed, kissing you for the first time in years, you melted into the love he gave, the tenderness he treated you with as his hands softly ran over the healing bruises hidden under your dress. He kissed you in all the spots you had spoken of hours ago, detailing some harsher wounds he had never realized you had been hiding. Love flowed from both of you as you rekindled a flame long thought extinguished.

And when you awoke in the morning, naked and sated, in the arms of the King, you had no doubt you would never experience anything but love with him.

[anari3l]

A Shirt

Pairing: Arthur Morgan x Reader // Words: 538 // Summary: The girls trick Reader into wearing one of Arthur's shirts // Humors of Whiskey Masterlist // Note: Yeah, I know this trope may be over done, but seriously, you should steal all of his shirts.

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

"God damn it, Arthur!" 

You yelled as you threw yourself behind a half-submerged log, covering your bare body with what was once a newly laundered shirt as shots rang overhead. Mary-Beth and Karen ducked behind a tree, half-dressed, scrambling for cover and the pistol laying on top of a pile of laundry. 

What had started as a calm swim while working on laundry, a few miles down the coast of Flat Iron Lake from Clemens Point, had turned into a stand-off between a group of Lemoyne Raiders and Arthur. 

"Get outta the damn water!" Arthur hollered as he rounded a tree, ducking as a bullet blew off a chunk of the trunk's wood beside his head. 

Cursing under your breath, you pulled the shirt onto your shoulders, glad it covered you enough to crawl up the bank to your own rifle. Laying in the tall grass, you fired down at one of the Raiders, too drunk to find cover behind a tree.

"This our land, ya hear!" 

"You can't take us!"

You had to give it to them, those Lemoyne Raiders were persistent. 

Karen's scoff was loud enough for all of you to hear over the gunfire, followed by a laugh as she hit her own target square in the chest. 

Finally, the only sound in the air was Karen and Mary-Beth's whooping laughter as they danced out from their cover. You laughed as you pushed to your knees, looking down to the now dirty shirt you had thrown on. "Hey, pass me a shirt or somethin'," you said, motioning to the basket Karen was picking up from the water's edge. 

She tossed you a shirt as Arthur whistled, turning to the horses as the three of you continued to make yourselves decent. Finally, after finding a skirt and your boots, you tucked the oversized shirt in and grabbed your rifle. 

"Those raiders are relentless," you sighed, setting the rifle in the back of the wagon.

Arthur nodded, glancing up at you for a moment with a cigarette between his lips. "Yeah," he started, cutting himself off as he looked back to you. "That's my shirt."

You stopped, looking down at yourself. The shirt Karen had tossed your way was the worn-out blue shirt of Arthur's. You chuckled, placing your hands on your hips. "I think it fits me."

He shrugged, ducking his head slightly as he took the basket Mary-Beth held out to him. "I'll want it back."

You smirked, hitching up your skirt to climb onto the wagon. "I'll think about it."

*********

"You threw me that shirt on purpose," you accused Karen as you nudged up to her in the supper line later that evening. 

"No, I swear!" she laughed, spooning a portion of Pearson's stew. 

"Happy accident," Mery-Beth piped up from behind you. 

Karen snickered, leading your small group away from the cookfire. "But did you see his face when he saw you in it?"

"And a blush!"

You rolled your eyes, glancing over your shoulder to the campfire where Arthur sat hunched over his own plate of food beside Javier and John. "Y'all are crazy. How many times do I have to say there's nothin' between us!"

They just smirked. "Keep tellin' yourself that." 

[anari3l]

Hey, can I please get Frodo x female reader with 9, 13, and 25 if that is possible? thank you for taking the time to read❤️

What drabble list are you asking for? I'd love to add you to my queue!

[anari3l]

Weird Questions for Writers (because writers are weird)

1. What font do you write in? Do you actually care or is that just the default setting?

2. If you had to give up your keyboard and write your stories exclusively by hand, could you do it? If you already write everything by hand, a) are you a wizard and b) pen or pencil?

3. What is your writing ritual and why is it cursed?

4. What’s a word that makes you go absolutely feral?

5. Do you have any writing superstitions? What are they and why are they 100% true?

6. What is your darkest fear about writing?

7. What is your deepest joy about writing?

8. If you had to write an entire story without either action or dialogue, which would you choose and how would it go?

9. Do you believe in ghosts? This isn’t about writing I just wanna know

10. Has a piece of writing ever “haunted” you? Has your own writing haunted you? What does that mean to you?

11. Do you believe in the old advice to “kill your darlings?” Are you a ruthless darling assassin? What happens to the darlings you murder? Do you have a darling graveyard? Do you grieve?

12. If a genie offered you three writing wishes, what would they be? Btw if you wish for more wishes the genie turns all your current WIPs into Lorem Ipsum, I don’t make the rules

13. What is a subject matter that is incredibly difficult for you write about? What is easy?

14. Do you lend your books to people? Are people scared to borrow books from you? Do you know exactly where all your “lost” books are and which specific friend from school you haven’t seen in twelve years still possesses them? Will you ever get them back?

15. Do you write in the margins of your books? Dog-ear your pages? Read in the bath? Why or why not? Do you judge people who do these things? Can we still be friends?

16. What’s the weirdest thing you’ve ever used as a bookmark?

17. Talk to me about the minutiae of your current WIP. Tell me about the lore, the history, the detail, the things that won’t make it in the text.

18. Choose a passage from your writing. Tell me about the backstory of this moment. How you came up with it, how it changed from start to end. Spicy addition: Questioner provides the passage.

19. Tell me a story about your writing journey. When did you start? Why did you start? Were there bumps along the way? Where are you now and where are you going?

20. If a witch offered you the choice between eternal happiness with your one true love and the ability to finally finish, perfect, and publish your dearest, darlingest, most precious WIP in exactly the way you've always imagined it — which would you choose? You can’t have both sorry, life’s a bitch

21. Could you ever quit writing? Do you ever wish you could? Why or why not?

22. How organized are you with your writing? Describe to me your organization method, if it exists. What tools do you use? Notebooks? Binders? Apps? The Cloud?

23. Describe the physical environment in which you write. Be as detailed as possible. Tell me what’s around you as you work. Paint me a picture.

24. How much prep work do you put into your stories? What does that look like for you? Do you enjoy this part or do you just want to get on with it?

25. What is a weird, hyper-specific detail you know about one of your characters that is completely irrelevant to the story?

26. How do you get into your character’s head? How do you get out? Do you ever regret going in there in the first place?

27. Who is the most stressful character you’ve ever written? Why?

28. Who is the most delightful character you’ve ever written? Why?

29. Where do you draw your inspiration? What do you do when the inspiration well runs dry?

30. Talk to me about the role dreams play in your writing life. Have you ever used material from your dreams in your writing? Have you ever written in a dream? Did you remember it when you woke up?

31. Write a short love letter to your readers.

32. What is a line from a poem/novel/fanfic etc that you return to from time and time again? How did you find it? What does it mean to you?

33. Do you practice any other art besides writing? Does that art ever tie into your writing, or is it entirely separate?

34. Thoughts on the Oxford comma, Go:

35. What’s your favorite writing rule to smash into smithereens?

36. They say to Write What You Know. Setting aside for a moment the fact that this is terrible advice...what do you Know?

37. If you were to be remembered only by the words you’ve put on the page, what would future historians think of you?

38. What is something about your writing process YOU think is Really Weird? If you are comfortable, please share. If you’re not comfortable, what do you think cats say about us?

39. What keeps you writing when you feel like giving up?

40. Please share a poem with me, I need it.

[anari3l]

It's my 8 year anniversary on Tumblr 🥳

[anari3l]

I'm always caught between "wanting to draw certain scenes in a fanfic I just read" vs "being unsure if fanfic writers welcome unsolicited art" vs "too socially inept to ask them" so I'm just stuck with random doodles I never bother to post

[anari3l]

Welcome to Sanctuary ch.1

Pairing: Nate/Sole Survivor x Merc!Reader

Words: 933

Summary: You meet the infamous Nate, General of the Minutemen in Sanctuary

Notes: No one asked for this, I know. But I made a very handsome sole survivor on my last playthrough and got inspired.

You smiled, waving to the child as the caravan started off. Behind you the rest of the group said goodbye to the settlers. 

“Say hi to Nate for us!” the old man said, shaking Lucas’s hand with a large smile.

Lucas nodded, waving back. “I’ll tell him the news!” he responded, nodding to the bundle held in the woman’s arms.

You watched as the family waved after you, the two young children chasing after the brahmin as the group started down the crumbling road. 

You had joined up with this caravan on the southern outskirts of the Commonwealth. Happy to have a few extra caps in hand, you graciously took the guard position and kept your mouth shut. Lucas seemed to be well liked by everyone you came across as your traveled a well worn route through the Commonwealth, and the brief stays in settlements with actual marketplaces were always relaxing. 

The past three days you had walked through a handful of settlements around Boston, heading north to a newer, larger settlement called Sanctuary. You had grown up in and around the Commonwealth, and especially the Boston area, and were surprised to hear of a new large settlement encroaching on the success that was Diamond City.

“Who is this Nate guy everyone keeps mentioning?” you asked Lucas as you stepped through the gate of the Castle, glad to have some semblance of sturdy walls around you. 

“Say hi to the General for me, would ya,” Lucas smiled to one of the minutemen as they passed under the gate of the castle.

“And who’s the General?” you added. 

Lucas smirked, dropping into the bench beside you as the caravan settled into the camp for the night. The walls of the castle would afford you enough protection without a watch tonight. “The General of the Minutemen,” he started. “Nate. Some wastelander turned General, mayor, merc for hire, scavenger … he’s done a lot.”

“Never heard of him.” you shrugged, picking at your food. 

Lucas nodded. “Understandably. He’s pretty new to the area. Most of the settlements we’ve been passing through are run by him,” he said around a mouthful of stew.

“Now you’re fucking with me,” you started, smiling, dropping your arms to rest along your knees. “Ain’t no way one man can be in charge of all those little farms. Mayor of a settlement, I get -- spent enough time pissing off McDonough to know how most settlements are run -- but all of those farms?”

“Nate’s different,” Lucas said. “He’s run with us a few times. Brings in the caps, and pays us handsomely. Your paycheck’s comin’ from him when we reach Sanctuary.”

***

“Caravan’s in!” MacCready’s voice cut through the morning din of Sanctuary as he walked down the sidewalk. Nate saluted the merc from his spot on the watchtower near the path that lead to the vault, leaning against the wooden railing as the brahmin entered the settlement. 

Nate had found this tower was his favorite just to watch the settlement. It afforded a full view of the cul-de-sac and marketplace, and was central enough to meet anyone who came through the main gates. 

“Worried for a minute, there, Lucas!” he called down, kicking his right foot over his left as he leaned against the railing, rifle held in his crossed arms. “Bunker Hill said you left eight days ago.”

You watched as the man stepped off the tower, shrugging a beat up sniper rifle across his shoulder as he matched Lucas’s gait. Lucas shook Nate’s hand in a friendly greeting. “Stop finding new settlements, and shipments won’t be late. Those farmers are always willing to buy.”

Nate nodded, hitching a thumb over his shoulder. “Stall’s all set for you. You heading out two days from now?” You kept your spot behind Lucas, mouth shut, and rifle held in hand, ready to fire at the earliest sign of trouble, but you kept looking over to Nate as he spoke. 

Lucas nodded, shrugging as they led the caravan down the street of Sanctuary to the marketplace. “About. What’s up?”

“Mac and I are heading out. Might hitch a ride,” Nate answered. Stopping, he met your gaze, “New gun?”

You introduced yourself, relaxing a little bit more as Nate smiled a very white toothed smile at you.

Lucas waved over to you. “Picked ‘em up outside Quincy.”

Nate held out a hand for you to shake. “I’m Nate,” he introduced. “Welcome to Sanctuary Hills.”

“Thanks,” you nodded, matching his friendly smile.

You had to admit, out of all of the settlements you had visited over the years, this was one of the nicest. Like Diamond City, there was a rotating security presence, keeping everyone safe, but you had to admit no one looked scared. The pre-war houses that still stood had been converted into all manner of buildings -- a Minutemen barracks, bath house, school house, security office -- and you found yourself wanting to know how. 

Nate … he seemed odd. At least compared to literally everyone else you had ever met in the wasteland. He held himself as if he was a merc, a gun for hire. He carried his rifle under his arm, and eyes continued to scan his surroundings with practiced ease. As you followed the caravan further into the settlement, you watched as the man was greeted by everyone who you passed. 

You leaned against the old diner counter beside Lucas, gaze trained on Nate as he played fetch with Dogmeat in the street. “Alright, what’s the catch?”

“No catch,” Lucas smiled, dropping a bag of caps beside your arm. “Welcome to Sanctuary.”