#the sounds that echo up from the shores like a lullaby

[eyesxxyou]

𝖕𝖊𝖆𝖗𝖑 𝖔𝖋 𝖙𝖍𝖊 𝖘𝖊𝖆 🏴‍☠️🐚

| iii. three | pearl

🐚・・・pirate!Hobie x mute!siren!reader.

𝔠𝔬𝔫𝔱𝔢𝔫𝔱: blood, crying, kissing

↳ ❝ and how you glowed, like a pearl ❞

𝔪𝔞𝔰𝔱𝔢𝔯𝔩𝔦𝔰𝔱

The silence was eerie.

The silver waves that washed up on shore and lapped at his feet made no sound. Cicadas did not buzz ceaselessly in the trees and the grasshoppers did not sing their mating sounds to each other. There was nothing at all but the full moonlight and the glittering stars that seemed to wane and falter almost as if they struggled to mark their existence.

It was as if the world had stopped and all that could be said for it was the cool breeze that carried the saltiness of the ocean and the water crashing on the rocks.

Hobie stood there, swaying with the waves. In and out. It was easy to get caught up in it all if you didn't possess the knowledge to understand that the sea was dangerous and her children were not forgiving. He closed his eyes, felt the grains of sand beneath his feet, between his toes, and the cool water rush over his ankles like wind carried children home.

And then he heard her. How easy it was to know home when you hear it. The sweet lullaby his mother would hum to Hobie to lull him to sleep. It echoed in his ears–in the space around him as well, like it was coming from everywhere and nowhere all at once. It sounded just like her, like when she held him in her arms and rocked him back and forth, humming in his ears like a songbird sings to her young.

“Mama?” He could almost see her silhouette in the distance, sitting on a rock. Her hands reached out and motioned him towards her and like a string at his hand, she tugged and he came. One foot after the other into the water. “Mama, ‘m comin’.”

He knew that wasn't his mother, deep down, he knew. But how could he care when what could be waited for him with open arms and sounded like home?

Hobie waded through the water, murmuring, “Mama…Mama….Mama. Come home…lemme come home.” It rose to his waist, then his chest, then his neck. The water was frigid and seized him like the cold hands of death wrapping around his throat. But no matter how much he wanted to stop, he could not. Hobie walked until his feet were no longer on the ocean floor and he was simply floating in open water.

He was drowning, but it didn't feel like it. He did not thrash or fight his fate. It was easier to accept it and just float.

But he turned in the water and saw you beside him, floating with him. You looked at him with those pearl eyes, your seaweed and decorations floating about in the space around you. The moonlight found you beneath the water and something about you looked phantom-like.

Hobie was not scared or unsettled as he usually was. He stared into your eyes and saw comfort and warmth in the cold. You reached out and touched his face. Your palm cradled his cheek and he did not flinch from your touch. He felt…seen. As if a creature like you could know how pain moved through the body.

You moved closer to him and he did not back away. His eyes somehow watered and glazed and he wept with uncontrollable tears of sorrow. You stared at him and somehow displayed empathy. You wrapped your arms around him and embraced him, and he let you.

You pulled away just enough to look him eye to eye and you leaned, slowly yet with confidence. His mother's humming faded away into void, muffled mumbling. Your skin under his fingertips, your hand on his face again, your eyes fluttering closed and his doing the same. 

Your lips touched his.

Hobie’s eyes shot open. He blinked once, twice, chest rising and falling with the rocking of the boat, then carefully began to look around.

It was still dark but it was clear that the sun would be showing its face over the horizon soon. The sky wasn't as dark, she was already beginning to start her path across the sky. Soon her rays would spam across the sky and wake his crew from their barracks.

Hobie remembered you. How could he possibly forget about you after the dream he just had? He was puzzled more than anything but one thing remained consistent, you needed to get off of his ship and get out of his life for good. You’d find your way out of his dreams soon after.

You kissed him. What would possess him to dream about the likes of you kissing him? You were already infecting him with your seduction.

It was just early enough in the morning that he was sure no one would be awake yet. It was the only time he would have to swiftly show you your way off of the Mary Jane and far away from him. He couldn't afford to have another dream about you, apply meanings to them where there weren't any.

But your lips felt so soft against his. He could almost feel the phantom weight of them on his lips, his neck, his chest. He felt so dizzy.

Hobie scuffled out of his bed and dug into his eyes with the heels of his palms as he stumbled about his cabin to search for his boots. He found them when he sleepily tripped over them. His face was hot, mind all hazy from his dream. He was flustered of all things and it perplexed him to no end. Hobie shook his head and shoved on his boots with an eagerness to be rid of you.

He left without his dagger in his haste, running his hand down his face as if to wipe away the sleepiness while he made his way through the hull. He was good at remaining quiet, his tall, slim figure slinked in the dark, tiny spaces that lead to where he had left you. He made little to no sound amongst the shadows, his hands palming at the walls he knew well to guide himself down into the hull expertly avoiding the few stray nails that stuck out of the walls.

Hobie expected to find you exactly where he left you, hidden behind a few barrels, sleeping soundly beneath a sack. But when he dragged the barrels out of the way, his heart sank to his stomach and boiled in his stomach acid. You were gone. Fuck– you had to be somewhere. Maybe you had left on your own fruition and saved him the effort. But that was wishful thinking.

Hobie took his time to go through each part of the ship in search of you. He looked in each dark corner, under each sack, between barrels of food and ale. And when he didn't find you anywhere below deck, he made his way to the hatch that led to the upper deck. He prayed to a God he didn't believe in that you had simply left. It would be easier that way. He’d never have to spend another second thinking of you again.

Hobie opened the hatch and poked his head through it, his keen eyes eagerly searching for your figure. It was easy to spot you on the forecastle at the stern, your shimmering patches of scales and glistening pearls hanging off your body like teardrops and sorrows. You were leaning against the railing, your hands supporting your head as you looked out at the horizon as if waiting for the sun to rise.

He only saw your backside. The curve of your spine. Your body draped in just enough seaweed to keep you modest. Your hips, your shoulders. Every piece of you designed to lure.

Hobie climbed out onto the deck and let the hatch close just loud enough for your finned ears to hear. You jumped, something of a squeaking yelp left you and your head shot to him. Your chest heaved, eyes wide and startled, you placed your hand on your chest, webbed fingers splayed open as you clutched yourself.

For some reason you calmed up on seeing him. As if you knew for certain he was no threat to you. Hobie could not say the same about you.

You took a step towards him and he reached to his side for his dagger. He felt nothing. He had forgotten it in his cabin and there was no use in going back to get it. So he straightened up, adjusting the sleeves of his billowy blouse and took a step back to maintain distance. “Don't come any closer.”

Your soft eyes framed by long lashes, fluttered. Your lips pouted. Your bandage was still firmly wrapped around your shoulder but was slowly bleeding through the cloth. You drew closer still, your bare feet padding against the wood of the deck. You almost looked like an apparition, floating, your pearls and scales shining as if you were transparent.

You stopped toe to toe with him and tilted your head slightly to the side as you gaze up at him. You’re close. Too close. Hobie felt his face flush with blood. Your lips looked more supple than before. “Ya need t’ leave now.” He murmured in a slight daze. “I helped ya ‘nough. Ya can' stay.”

Your eyes suddenly shifted from blank and ditzy to all at once pleading. You pointed to your shoulder bleeding through the bandages and with a single hand reached out to touch him. Hobie was quick to step out of your reach. “Don' touch me. I‘ve done ‘nough.”

He could not let you stay. He liked his life simple–raids, drinking, smoking, more raids–and you were anything but. You would bring unneeded drama into his life. He would not let you stay, not after the dream he had. You were an enigma. You terrified him. And it seemed so ridiculous to say so. Someone as delicate as you, dangerous? Laughable.

Your brows furrowed, your lips pursed. You lowered your head and looked at your feet. Hobie almost felt bad. Suddenly he felt like the bad guy. Where would you go? The thought never concerned you before but now, you looked so vulnerable. You were a siren with no voice, you were injured.

You turned and looked out at the horizon again. The sun was beginning to peek out over the water, red like blood. You were suddenly shining gold. Your glassy eyes spilled soft tears of liquid jewels. When you looked back to Hobie, you seized his hand, letting him flinch at your cool touch.

He let you lead him towards the edge of the board, mesmerized by the beauty of it all. You could have pushed him over the side of the boat for all he knew. But you did not. You let him go and leaned against the railing, looking down at the water that seemed just as dark and gloomy as it had the night before.

He suddenly found it odd that you just happened to be in the water when you were. Hobie figured you were following him for days on end before he spotted you in the water the night before.

“Ya ‘ave nowhere t' go, do ya?”

You shook your head slowly, tracing circles with your nails into the railing. You looked almost ashamed to admit it.

How was Hobie supposed to shoo you away now? How was he meant to show such cruelty? His hands gripped the railing, turning his head away from you in hopes to keep his sanity. He could feel you looking at him, hoping that maybe he would let you stay.

What would the others say? What would they tell him to do? In many ways they were his consciousness. They never steered him wrong. They’d tell him to let you stay. They'd tell him that you were no different from the rest of them. You were in need of help, a place to stay, some medical attention. And he was in the position to give it.

“Fine.” He almost gritted out as if it physically pained him. “Ya can stay, only ‘til ya heal. Then ya gotta go.” He was firm in his resolution. He couldn't have you sticking around long enough to cement yourself into a permanent position on his ship. He didn't trust you as far as he could throw you.

You wipe your tears slowly and look back up at him. His skin was gold under the sunlight, slender and regal yet rough around the edges. His eyes – one blue, one brown – looked at you with mistrust. He looked almost like one of the gold coins you’d find on the ocean floor and tuck away with you. Like precious metal, like all the human things that fascinate you.

“Ya gotta name then, luv?” The low baritone of his voice almost made you smile. He was acquiescent in his tone but the nickname he attached to the question was nothing more than his pirate mannerisms. He hadn't meant to let it slip.

You shrugged. He took that as a no. “Fine, then. You’ll be…” He looked at you, your eyes, your scales, your pearls. It came to him immediately, like a divine revelation. It just clicked into place as if it was always meant to be. “Yer gonna be ‘pearl’. Ya understan’?”

You were quick to nod with swift enthusiasm, your lips curling into a smile. Pearl. You liked the sound of it. You never had a name before. Not a real one. Just “monster” or “beast” and you never thought them fitting.

Hobie sighed and ran his hand down his face once more, this time with stress. “How ‘n the bloody hell am I gonna explain ya t’ the crew?” And when he looked at you, you stood there with that daft little smile.

And how you glowed, like a pearl.

[somnas-writes]

Laurence really enjoys eye contact. It unsettled people but he adores staring into the eyes of those he loves.

He commits every little detail and feature to memory.

He can remember it all. Even years later when he’s left them all behind, he recites the little details to keep himself from losing the one piece of humanity he has

[am3ricanh0rrorwh0re]

Alive For The Night ☆

tate langdon x fem!reader

summary: your clingy boyfriend Tate takes you on a late night beach date on halloween

warnings: none

a/n: here’s a post as an apology for starving you all 💞

The waves whispered against the shore, a rhythmic lullaby that serenaded you two as you walked hand in hand along the moonlit beach. The air was cool, salty, and alive with the fragrance of the ocean. It was the perfect night for a rendezvous, away from the prying eyes of the world and of the Murder House’s infamous ghostly residents.

Tate stole a glance at you, the soft glow of the moon illuminating your features, casting a halo around your silhouette. You were beautiful to him, ethereal even, your eyes reflecting the shimmering stars above. He couldn't help but feel a surge of warmth in his chest, a feeling he hadn't experienced in a long time. Not since he was alive….

"So, why the sudden urge for a late-night beach date, Tate? On Halloween no less…planning to kill me?” you asked, your voice a melodic harmony in the tranquil night.

Tate shrugged, a mischievous glint dancing in his eyes like a flickering star. "Just felt like it, you know? Sometimes you gotta seize the moment, live a little."

You chuckled softly, leaning into him as you two continued your leisurely stroll. "I like that about you, Tate. Always spontaneous."

You guys walked in comfortable silence for a while, the only sound the gentle crashing of waves against the shore. Tate couldn't help but marvel at the serenity of it all, the way the moonlight danced on the water, painting everything in shades of silver and blue.

As they reached the water's edge, Tate kicked off his shoes and rolled up his jeans, the cold water sending shivers up his spine. He turned to you with a playful grin, his brown eyes shining in the moonlight. "You coming in, or are you too chicken?"

You raised an eyebrow, a smirk tugging at the corners of your lips. "Oh, you're on, Langdon."

With that, you kicked off your own shoes and waded into the water, squealing as the cold water enveloped your ankles. Tate laughed, splashing her playfully as you retaliated with her own waves.

For a while, you forgot about everything else, lost in the simple joy of each other's company. The couple chased each other along the shore, the laughter of youth echoing in the night.

Eventually, you grew tired, collapsing onto the sand in a heap of laughter and exhaustion. Tate lay on his back, the sand cool against his skin, as he stared up at the night sky along with you beside him.

"You know," you said, your voice soft and contemplative, "I never thought I'd find happiness again after everything that's happened. But with you, Tate, it's like… I don't know, everything just falls into place."

Tate turned to you, his heart swelling with emotion. "You're not alone, you know. I've been lost for so long, but being with you… it feels like I've finally found my way home."

You lay there in silence, the sound of your breathing mingling with the gentle rustle of the breeze. In that moment, you two were infinite, two souls intertwined in the vast expanse of the universe.

As the night wore on, you watched as the first light of dawn crept over the horizon of the coast, painting the sky in hues of pink and gold. It was a new beginning, a promise of a future filled with endless possibilities.

And as you walked back along the beach with him, hand in hand, Tate knew that no matter what trials lay ahead, as long as you two had each other, they could weather any storm or any apocalypse life threw your way.

taglist: @fear-is-truth , @dangeroustaintedflawed , @newwavesylviaplath @slutforgarlogan @nickrhodeslittledarling @coentinim @foreverlovestruck

[nemesiswithabow]

“You never loved Mom like I did.”

In the aftermath of a heated argument with his sister, Sokka confronts his own reflection, haunted by the blurred image of his mother and the weight of his grief.

Under the cover of the night, Sokka sat alone on the sandy shore, his back against a weathered driftwood log. The gentle lapping of the waves against the shore provided a soothing backdrop to his thoughts, as he gazed out at the vast expanse of the sea. Above, the moon hung high in the sky, casting its ethereal glow over the landscape. Its silver light danced upon the surface of the water, creating a mesmerizing tapestry of ripples and reflections. In the distance, the twinkling stars dotted the heavens, their distant light offering a glimmer of hope in the darkness. But despite the beauty of the night, Sokka's gaze was heavy. His eyes were drawn to the horizon, where the sea met the sky. The salty sea air filled his lungs, mingling with the taste of salt on lips.

His thoughts turned inevitably to his mother. He remembered her warm smile, the gentle touch of her hand on his cheek, the sound of her laughter that always seemed to chase away the shadows. But as much as he tried, the details of her face remained frustratingly elusive, blurred by the passage of time. Yet, there was also a glimmer of hope, a belief that somewhere out there, she was watching over him. His gaze fixed on the distant horizon, longing for the embrace of a mother’s love once more. As the night deepened, his thoughts grew heavier, weighed down by the burden of grief that he carried with him every day. He thought about all the moments he had missed, all the words left unsaid, all the hugs never given. He recalled the scent of her hair as she tucked him into bed at night. He remembered the sound of her voice, soft and soothing, as she sang him lullabies to chase away fears. He remembered the ache in his heart as he watched other children with their mothers.

"Mom, look what I made!" Sokka exclaimed, his breath forming puffs of white in the chilly air.

He remembered the winter morning, the air crisp and cold, as he carefully sculpted a tiny snowman in the backyard. With small, nimble fingers, he fashioned each delicate feature, pouring all his love and affection into the creation.

His mother turned from her task, a smile spreading across her face as she saw the small snowman cradled in his hands. "Oh, Sokka, it's beautiful! You've done such a wonderful job."

"I wanted to make something special for you," Sokka said, his cheeks flushed with pride.

"It's perfect," his mother replied, wrapping him in a warm hug. "Thank you, Sokka. This is the best gift I could ever ask for."

Sokka beamed up at her, his heart swelling with happiness. "I love you, Mom."

"I love you too, Sokka," she whispered, pressing a kiss to his forehead.

With a heavy heart and tear-stained cheeks, Sokka closed his eyes.

He pictured his mother standing beside him, her gentle smile lighting up her face as she admired the tiny snowman he had crafted. He could almost feel the warmth of her presence, her hand resting on his shoulder as they admired the snowman together. For a fleeting instant, Sokka allowed himself to believe that she was truly there with him, that the bond they shared transcended the boundaries of time and space. In that precious moment, he felt a sense of connection to her that he had thought lost forever, a reminder that her love would always be a guiding light in his darkest moments.

“Sokka…” her voice, soft and familiar, pulled him back to reality. But before he could fully return to the present, another voice cut through the silence.

“Sokka!”

The sound of his sister’s voice jolted him back to the present moment, the echo of his mother’s voice fading into the background. With a heavy heart, Sokka opened his eyes, blinking away the remnants of his imagined world. As he turned to face his sister, he found her standing nearby.

“Are you okay?” Katara asked, her voice filled with genuine concern.

He offered a small, reassuring smile, though the ache in his heart remained. “Yeah, I’m fine.”

As he rose to his feet, he cast one last glance at the spot where his mother had stood in imagination, a silent acknowledgment of the love and warmth she had left behind.

———

The air was heavy with the scent of sweat and smoke, and the distant echoes of combat still lingered in his ears. He leaned back against a fallen tree trunk, feeling the rough bark press against his back, grounding him in the reality of the moment. Hakoda approached, his steps steady but his gaze heavy with the weight of their recent conflict.

“You fought bravely out there, Sokka,” Hakoda remarked, his voice a mixture of pride and concern. Sokka nodded in acknowledgment, but his mind was elsewhere.

As Hakoda settled beside him, he stole a glance at his father’s weathered face, seeing traces of exhaustion in his eyes. The sight brought a pang of guilt to Sokka’s heart; he had longed for his father’s approval, yet now that he had it, it felt hollow.

Hakoda’s eyes rested on his son, tracing the lines of his face with pride. “Sokka,” he began, “there’s something about you…”

Sokka turned to his father, his brow furrowing in curiosity. He had heard those words before. “What is it, Dad?” he asked, his voice betraying a hint of uncertainty.

Hakoda hesitated for a moment, his gaze lingering on Sokka’s features as if searching for answers in the familiar contours of his face. “You look so much like your mother,” he finally said, his voice soft yet heavy with emotion. Sokka forced a tight-lipped smile, nodding in response, but inside, he felt as though the ground had shifted beneath him, and breath caught in his throat.

Sokka turned away from his father’s gaze, the reflection of his mother staring back at him from within.

———

Every glance into a mirror felt like a punch to the gut. Every time Sokka caught his reflection in a mirror or a polished surface, he couldn’t help but flinch. The sight of the blurred features staring back at him was like a dagger to his heart. It was as if the reflection mocked him, taunting him with its lack of clarity, its refusal to reveal his mother’s face, her warm smile, her gentle eyes.

Avoiding mirrors became a daily ritual for Sokka, a way to shield himself from the pain. He would avert his gaze whenever he passed by one, pretending not to notice the distorted image. It was easier to turn away, to ignore the reflection that held so much sorrow and grief.

———

A heated argument with Katara had left him reeling, her words cutting deeper than any sword ever could.

“You never loved Mom like I did.”

Sokka stood before the mirror, his reflection staring back at him with haunting familiarity. He couldn't tear his eyes away from the blurred features.

He felt a wave of despair wash over him, threatening to drown him in its depths. His breath came in ragged gasps as tears welled in eyes, blurring vision even further. He reached out a trembling hand, fingers brushing against the cool surface of the mirror, but the image remained unchanged.

"I miss you," he whispered hoarsely, voice barely audible over the pounding of his heart. "I miss you so much."

But the figure in the mirror remained silent, her blurred face offering no solace, no comfort. Sokka's chest tightened with a pain so intense it was almost physical, squeezing the air from lungs and leaving him gasping for breath.

In that moment, the lines between reality and illusion blurred, and Sokka found himself trapped in a waking nightmare. His mother's presence loomed beside him, her voice a whisper in the darkness, but it was distorted, mixing with his own thoughts twisted with grief.

He reached out, desperate to touch her, to feel the warmth of her embrace, but his hands grasped only empty air. Tears streamed down his cheeks as he watched the blurred figure of his mother waver and fade, leaving him alone once more in the cold embrace of the mirror's reflection.

[toraashi]

floral swing. (xiao, kazuha)

notes from tori: hello all, i haven’t written in so long nor have i been active for a reason. i have no excuse for the first, but the second!! i saw taylor swift last weekend and then when i got back from my trip i got covid :( so yeah, very busy fortunately and unfortunately, but i’m back now! this isn’t very good, but i hope you enjoy anyway!

warnings/info: gn!reader, fluff, kissing, short, that’s all, i am obsessed with the floral swing furnishing in the teapot

kazuha.

“Can’t we stay in here forever, Kazuha?” You breathed, melting into the pillow-soft cushions of a floral swing, your head pressed into the man’s legs. The swing pushed and pulled beneath you like the lull of ocean waves brushing up against the shore. Kazuha’s fingers did the same, weaving through the crisp wind that tickled your skin and stroking over your cheeks, your fluttering eyelashes. He hummed, and the sound harmonized with the chirp of nearby birds. 

“It certainly eases the mind,” The words blended pleasantly in your mind as another cool breeze washed across your face. In the traveler’s teapot,  life was devoid of tribulation. All that existed was the sun, unerringly warm against your skin, Kazuha’s fingers dripping through your hair until you were just on the precipice of blissful sleep, and—

The press of something firm against your lips, ambrosial granules flicking onto your tongue. A fruit. 

“Zaytun peaches, have you had them?” Kazuha always knew what was on your mind. His voice had to be a lullaby, and you welcomed the offering, the peach's skin velvety against your tongue, it’s flavor sweetened by flecks of sugar. “With a sprinkle of sugar, just how you like.” The follow up statement was laced with self-satisfaction, and you smiled against his fingers, chewing thoughtfully and letting your drowsy eyes flick open to gaze at his features leering over yours. The sun cast a halo around his hair, and your hand rebelliously reached for the scarlet strand nearly brushing against your nose. 

“Do you want a taste?” You murmured, watching a range of emotions flick through his ruby eyes. First: him attempting to read your intentions, your feelings. Second: confusion. Third: realization, and finally, a soft desire that burnt against his cheeks. Within a few seconds, you were wrinkling your nose at the ticklish sensation of his hair finally brushing the tip, swallowing thickly before feeling his words on your lips.

“I suppose a taste wouldn’t hurt,”

xiao.

You could only think one thing as you gazed upon the adeptus in your lap, his lashes fluttering, his cheeks flushed a soft, docile pink.

“You’re so lovely, Xiao.” You charmed, words softer than wind chimes. Xiao was favorable to compliments if you whispered them lowly and fervently. He was much like a bird that way, needing to be carried gently into affection, perhaps out of fear that something disastrous would happen if he indulged too much.

And gentle you were; it was hard to coax him into relaxation regardless, and you strived to keep his peace as long as possible.

Xiao hummed, a sign he’d heard while you leaned and pressed yet another featherlight kiss to his nose, moving leisurely to his cheekbone to plant another. His trust in you was intoxicating. Just a few months ago, and the action would’ve made him recoil. Now, however, he barely flinched when you dragged your lips to the bow of his, kissing his upper lip like a breeze. As if to soothe the action, you traced your thumb down his round cheek as you withdrew, scouring his face for any unfavorable reaction. Instead, you earned a pleased sigh, one which you echoed.

The silence enveloped your pair like a warm blanket, the cool grass between your toes, the weight of his head on your lap, the tickle of his hair against your thighs. Your seat — a cushioned floral swing — rocked back and forth, draping vines framing the scene before you, embroidered with white petals. Pressing your lips together, you smiled quaintly, eyes drooping closed at a blissful breeze wafting over your sunkissed cheeks, pretending like the sliver of time was eternal, like Xiao would never leave your side, like he’d be between your fingers until the stars fell from the sky—

The worn fabric of Xiao’s glove against your cheek pulled you from your reverie, and your eyes fluttered open as his thumb smoothed a growing wrinkle between your eyebrows.

“Are you troubled?” The somewhat archaic lilt to his speech, the concerned glow to his golden gaze: it immediately softened your disposition, and you offered a smile, plucking his fingers from your face and bringing them to your lips, adorning each one with its own kiss.

“At your side? Never?”

[missmungoe]

Hello, i forgot the title, but there was a part when Makino sang a song that was made by Shanks. I was wondering if that was a real song or if you wrote the lyrics yourself?

Hi! All the songs featured in my fics are written by me! :) If I had a knack for it, I'd put them to music, but my love is for writing questionable (and dirty) song lyrics!

From your description, I'm thinking this is "Moored to Her Port"? It's the song Shanks wrote about Makino, originally from Tethered to Kinder Shores, although the part where Makino sings it to the crew is from Mnemosyne, chapter 18:

A hand was held out to her, cupped as though for her to step into it, and without missing a beat she did, then into another, and a third, a light, seamless gait as they provided a path for her to the neighbouring table, steady as though she walked on air, onto the neighbouring table and then the next, more eager hands reaching to assist her, and never once stumbling over the song, her voice lifting under the beams to the beat where they clapped it―“By hand and by tongue I will chart it, her legs exquisitely parted, down the swell of her hips and her skin so fair, to the strait of her soft thighs and her dark, curling hair. It’s not between Scylla and Charybdis I’ll go down, but on her!”―before the last step saw her leaping gracefully onto the furthermost table, to the loud delight of the pirates seated along it. She turned then, her eyes seizing his from across the compartment, and this time his whole crew raised their voices for the last line of the refrain. Everyone but Shanks, who couldn’t have summoned his own with a pistol to his head. It crested against the timbers, the bulkheads creaking from the pressure like the ship's lungs expanding, a roar of sound where it rose from deep in their stomachs, like something long-restrained was finally let free― “For booze and water are naught but dregs, I’ll quench my thirst between her legs!”

If it's not that one, it might be Shanks' dirty rewrite that they sing together in Siren's Call, chapter 11. I don't remember if I ever gave that one a title, but let's call it "Down on Her Knees"!

The refrain came then, and he’d changed that, too, telling of the lady’s grateful and enthusiastic reward, which in the original had been much less graphic, a coyly implied tryst within her upturned carriage, but he’d never cared for subtlety, to which the shameless rewrite testified rather bluntly, the rich baritone of his voice lifted as he sang, loud enough to fill the whole galley. “And down on her knees she went, down on her knees, with dirt on her frock and her mouth full of—” Makino choked, the sound louder than the word as it left him, shaped by his filthy grin, and she heard his laughter where it flung out, before he repeated the refrain, louder this time and echoed by his whole crew, and by the end of which she was blushing so hard she couldn’t find her voice to pick up the following verse, her palms pressed to her face to stifle the scalding heat in her cheeks and her helpless laughter. She heard Shanks’ where it answered, delighting in her reaction, before he picked up the next verse, which should have been a heavily suggestive rendition of the lady’s change in fortune, but which had been rewritten in plainer terms as he sang, in that spellbinding voice, “With her manservant dead, she was down on her luck, but there’s no cure for mis’ry like a rousing good—?” Throwing his hand out to the galley, the question implied by the lift of his voice, they answered him in turn, loudly and with their glasses raised, the word deafening where it bounced off the walls: "Fuck!" Shanks raised his brows at her with a grin as Makino laughed into her hands.

Other songs by yours truly that appear in Shanties are "The Salt Wife" from Salt Vows chapter 1, and "Beneath the Tavern Bench" from the one-shot pirate lullabies. A recurring feature in my stories is Shanks and Makino singing together, and I love writing out the actual lyrics. It's always my hope that whoever reads them will feel like they're there, listening<3

[cilil]

Author's Note: After my beautiful friend @edensrose mentioned nightmare Irmo (thread here) I felt like writing a spontaneous little thing featuring my take on nightmare Irmo. Hope you enjoy!♡

⋆｡･ ☾ Drabble ⋆｡･ ✩

The Lord of Dreams and Nightmares

"You have gotten lost in my gardens, haven't you?"

☾ Synopsis: You find yourself bewitched by Irmo's beauty, yet something darker lurks behind his kind smile and sweet lullabies

☾ Featuring: Reader-insert, 2nd person POV, dark!Irmo, nightmare!Irmo, Ainur-typical use of singing and shapeshifting

☾ CW: Being put to sleep against your will, slight horror themes (eldritch Ainur)

☾ Drabble (~500 words), also available on AO3

His laughter is like a sweet melody, reminding you of chiming bells and glittering pearls of dew on a flower's petals,  and it fills the air around you as if it was coming from all sides. You listen to the sound of his voice, enchanted and captivated, and follow when a lily-white hand beckons you. The water of the lake splashes gently as dainty feet dance across its surface, leading you to a shadowy island in the middle of it. 

You make your way to its shore, drawn to him like a moth to a flame, and are rewarded with the breathtakingly beautiful sight of the Lord of Dreams himself, now fully revealed to your enraptured gaze as he waits for you. The fabric of his robes is thin and diaphanous, leaving his shoulders exposed and barely concealing his divine, elegant form underneath, and his hypnotic lavender eyes invite you to come closer. You nearly fall over your own feet when you finally reach the Vala and are drawn into his warm, soothing embrace. 

Irmo picks you up and carries you to a nearby field of flowers, stroking your hair and kissing your parting. You melt in his arms, all worry gone from your heart for the moment, banished by his presence, and you look up at him with awe and adoration as he places you on the ground. 

"My lord..." you try to speak, but your tongue starts to feel heavy and a delicate finger on your lips silences you. 

"Hush, little one. You have gotten lost in my gardens, haven't you?" 

Your slow, tired nod causes Irmo's eyes to light up, and he giggles before leaning down to plant another kiss on your forehead. 

"You should rest then, my sweet little butterfly. I will watch over you and your dreams..."

His voice fades into a soft hum and he weaves a calming, lilting melody that you soon identify as a lullaby. Your eyelids start fluttering, and you are tempted to give in, yet something makes you want to stay awake–a vague feeling of unease. Something felt wrong. 

"I don't... want to sleep..." you mumble, only for Irmo to shake his head with a smile. It is then that you notice a certain sharpness to his teeth, and his fána appears to start shifting.

"But of course you do, little one. I have so many wonderful dreams prepared for you..." 

The Vala's lullaby echoes through your very being while he continues to sing, and drowsiness settles over you like a heavy blanket of tempting oblivion. You sink deeper into the flowers and can only watch Irmo leaning over you, still smiling, eyes shining with an eerie purple light that seems to grow brighter and brighter the more you succumb to his song. 

From the corner of your eye, you see a flurry of ghostly moths flitting around his form as a pair of glittering, translucent wings emerges from his back and unfurls, alongside two additional pairs of arms sprouting from his shoulders. His fingers grow longer and claw-like, and you see his veins glowing under his pale skin, as if the power of his spirit was seeping into his blood, blurring the lines between the physical and spiritual realm. Strange patterns appear all over his fána, colourful, vibrant and ever shifting, bewitching and hypnotic. 

These lights are the last thing you see before sleep finally claims you, shrouding you in its dark embrace, and you hear Irmo laughing again, his voice now sounding distant– 

"Sleep well, little butterfly."

If you enjoyed, please consider liking and reblogging!♡

taglist: @a-contemplation-upon-flowers @asianbutnotjapanese @edensrose @eunoiaastralwings @floraroselaughter @singleteapot

masterlist | tag list form

[riseofamoonycake]

The Light Side of the Moon

🌙 Pairing: Rudra x Moon goddess!reader

🌙 Setting: post Ragnarok

🌙 Warnings: mention of wine, sex (oral, penetration), nudity, death. 

Part 3 of 4: Don’t Fall (The Longest Night)

Part 1

Part 2

Where you are a moon goddess of immense power (like Tanit), but clumsy, gentle and, after sorrowful relationships, afraid to fall in love again; but love comes to you anyway. 

And he has four arms.

🌒🌕🌘

“What… what was that?”

After a few moments of stillness and silence, as you regain consciousness and your senses settle down bringing with them a throbbing and widespread pain, you recognize that it is your voice that spoke, but that it is not the only sound you hear. The rhythmic singing of nearby waves, overbearing and impetuous, enters your mind like a chorus of sirens, while the nose is struck by the smell of salt and wet sand.

Not very far from you, the sea reigns over everything. And the feeling is not new to you.

But this is the scent of my land… the lullaby that accompanied the sleep of my people, and still does!

You try to open your eyes for the sudden realization, but you only encounter a deep blackness: it takes a few minutes to get your gaze used to the almost total darkness of the place, but in the end you recognize a hard, damp and cold cave swelling and expanding above and below your body, unraveling in a thousand tunnels as decreed by nature, and opening onto what, you are not at all confused, is the ocean that bathes your city. Within seconds you have left the bliss and troubles of heaven to return to your true home; the problem is that you don’t know how or why.

And I wasn’t alone. No… no… please, no.

You stand up calmly, leaning against the walls, only because your body doesn’t allow you to act quickly, and look around with ever greater tension, searching, without finding anything. The pain courses through your veins as if it were molten metal poured into your body, but the more moments pass, the more it seems to subside or turn into something similar to soreness, destined to fade.

After realizing that you are completely alone, step by step you take yourself towards the exit letting yourself be guided by the sound of the waves, trying to proceed with increasing speed; and it is then, when the light begins to penetrate from the outside and fill that rocky womb, followed by the vision of flashes of sky and water full of all shades of blue, that you slowly calm down. 

A dark shadow blocks the complete view of the landscape that opens up around, but it is precisely this that makes you breathe a sigh of relief.

The strange light that enveloped and took you two away together did not separate you, maybe for a reason that only it knows.

“Rudra…”, you manage to murmur, your voice reduced to an echo, “Rudra, are you fine?”

A short distance from the mouth of the cave, the god has his back to you and stares at the water hurling itself against the rocks and going to die on the beach, only to be reborn immediately afterwards. He hasn’t heard your voice, so he jumps and whirls around when you reach his side and graze his shoulder; he stares at you for a moment as if he doesn’t recognize your face, then his eyes widen and all his hands reach out towards you for an embrace, only to stop and lower them after a moment. “(Y/N)! Where were you? When I woke up I didn’t find you, and…”

His tension and the fear of squeezing you until he hurts you make you smile slightly, so you nod to the cave behind you. “I think whoever sent us to these shores was playing a little joke on us. But now, the important thing is another…”

Both of you gaze upon the ocean, which roars and advances and flees, engaged in an endless game. “Why are we here?” you say in unison.

The waves laugh back and seem to tease you, as if they know something that only you two have yet to find out.

🌒🌕🌘

Before meeting you for the first time, Rudra has never looked at the moon.

Of course, he always thought her beautiful and charitable in helping men find their way in the dark, brave and strong and steadfast in keeping their nightmares at bay; but if he hadn’t met you and your sweet eyes, now he wouldn’t stare at your silver companion whenever he can, looking for you in her face.

You appeared before him like a dream born of the twilight, when the outlines are not clear and the ghosts return to love those from whom they were divided, right at the end of the fifth battle of Ragnarok: confused in the midst of the divinities of the Hindu pantheon, too happy and busy celebrating their Lord’s victory to notice the veiled expression of sadness with which you stared at the area where Raiden Tameemon was moments before, you were emanating your clarity, beating like a heart ― a heart that was sobbing in silence. Your smile was wide, but the truth was cursing your face: you were grieving for the defeated warrior, for a human.

You attracted the attention of the Lord of Storms, even if he only looked at you for a few moments; and when, a little later, he saw you a second time in the great halls where the pantheon met, a figure standing slightly apart from the others and wrapped in a reassuring half-light, he could not restrain his curiosity with Indra and Varna, in that moment by his side.

The two gods exchanged a look, then the God of Water smiled warmly while glancing at you. “She is (Y/N), the Great Moon: one of the kindest deities among us. She cares for everyone, be they gods or men, and for all of us she is more than a friend: a sister… sometimes, a mother.”

“Varna described her perfectly.” Indra lit a new cigarette, then his tone dropped a little. “Except for one thing: she is a loving goddess, but one who doesn’t shy away from pain. The light you see coming from her compensates for the darkness she keeps locked inside her.”

In later years Rudra discovered that both were right: for despite his wanderings, every time he met you again he could see how much you are made of light and dark, of calm clarity and voracious blackness.

Getting closer wasn’t a problem: you always describe the sweetness of his smile, but at that time you were the first to do it, you spoke to him first.

Every time, when he comes back, it is always you who opens your arms and welcomes him home; and when it is time to leave wherever your desire calls, you are there to greet him, to let him know that you are always there wherever he goes, and vice versa.

“Ah, but you are here too!”

The god watches you turn your face to your shoulder, where the little bird that he brought you has just landed and now it is pecking at a lock of your hair; his gaze shines like a glitter of stars as he stares at you greeting and comforting the little creature with caresses and sweet words.

He knows the impulse that many creatures feel towards you, they all perceive your protection and other mother goddesses cause the same impulse; and he is starting to believe that many gods and goddesses feel the same way… but in his case, the attraction is more than just a search for nurturing, consolation, or support: he is drawn to you by the darkness hidden behind your light, the force standing next to you: your other face.

You dress it like one of your rich gowns, you let it smile and act however it pleases whenever you break your hold too soon, pulling away so you don’t fall ― don’t fall in love, don’t get hurt, don’t hurt, don’t suffer.

It is alert whenever you sleep, and even more when you are awake; you don’t intervene when you see it going wild, because you think it is for the best. Even now it is between you two, waiting in the guise of fear and distance, ready to bite and protect.

Rudra cannot deny that this darkness can keep you safe and help you think; however, it can also throw you out of your way and cloud your mind, and you know it. 

You know it, and you confirm it to him when your eyes lift up to look at him and as soon as they meet his gaze, as soon as you recognise the thoughts in his mind, they pray and implore him. “We should-We should look for a way back. We don’t know how we ended up here, but... but we are divinities, we...”

“(Y/N)…”

“We’ll find a way, don’t you think?”

“(Y/N), please, listen to me: before thinking about coming back, there’s something I want to know from you.”

You bite your lip with energy, then shake your head. You already know what is coming, yet you try to delay it once again.

“Earlier you said you should stay away from me, so I’ll live better. But… why? Only this: why? Why this harshness?”

You don’t break the subsequent silence for long moments, then you whisper a: “Believe me, it is better this way”, which makes the Lord of Storms even more determined to know. “At least, tell me what I want.”

“I don’t think I’ll answer.”

“Fine, then I don’t think I’ll stop asking you this.”

You darken your face under a wave of irritation, then glare at him as you wrap yourself in your arms, putting on a slightly childish expression. “You really are a stubborn one, aren’t you?”

“As stubborn as you, my great lady.” He looks at the ocean in front of you, then smiles a little. “Stubborn and determined like this ocean, which continues to fight the rock without ever getting tired or giving up.

You have to be strong to live in a land like this, as beautiful as wild, which blesses and gratifies but at the cost of great efforts; and even more in leading it.

I’m sure you did it with great wisdom and magnanimity, or this city would not have lived for so long, nor would your name still be remembered. You know how to take care of others and how to watch over... but you don’t want to control your pain, because you believe it will keep you from suffering any more.

You are so full of it that you risk becoming just that: an eternal heart beating only for sorrow.”

You don’t find the strength to reply. It hurts to be so exposed, but there is more: Rudra understands you, he feels you, and for this he is using all the delicacy he possesses to probe the locks of your soul, which creak in response.

You can’t hide it.

“You don’t have to bear such a burden, (Y/N). You have to let go before the darkness takes over: it is a phase of the moon, not its entire existence.

I’ve spent so much time contemplating you and her, that I can now safely say that the dark makes you even more beautiful, but only if you don’t forget your light. You are both, this is your greatest gift, so don’t let a part of you die.”

“So do you want to know this truth, God of Storms? Is that what you really ask?” Your voice trembles, and so do your legs: you find yourself on your knees in front of the ocean and the god you love, but if the former keeps screaming and flailing without caring for you, the latter approaches and kneels before you, intertwines his hands with yours and envelops you in his warmth, but without trapping you. “Yes, I want to know this truth. I’m not afraid of it”, says with his confident voice.

“You should be, love…” Words begin to flow freely, as do the memories from which they take shape.

🌒🌕🌘

I had to split the chapter in two, so it will not end here! The next chapter will be the last, maybe.

Thank you to @bao-yu-sarah-morningstar-wang-9 , @luashinazugawa and @evansuvamp for their kind words!

[airplanned]

Silence. 9

Table of Contents....Chapter 1...Chapter 8

.

Zelda woke from her recurring nightmare of Hyrule in flames, startled to discover that the dream had not woken her.

Screaming had woken her.  Screaming that was not her own.

Before her blurry eyes cleared, she threw off her blanket and ran.  Down the hall, not knowing what she was heading towards, only that she needed to get there.  Someone was in danger and she needed to help.  She needed to help.

In the hallway it sounded like the miserable low moan of a dying animal.  She was so used to the silence of the abbey that the haunting noise seemed to reverberate, echoing down the stone hall as if she were trapped in the body of whoever was crying.

Doors opened to either side, acolytes and monks peeking out in confusion or fear.  Zelda charged past them all, her bare feet slapping on the stone, her bare arms cold.

From the other direction, the abbot too was rushing towards the noise, but Zelda made it to the cell first, throwing open the door and rushing to Link's bed to wake him.  His moan was horrible, his face twisted in agony, and when she grabbed him by the shoulders and shook, the cry changed pitch from pain into fear.  He jerked away the small amount he could, his eyes wide until they focused on her face.

Then he grabbed her, his face buried in her neck as he shook and gasped, his arms holding her tight, his hands clinging to her shoulders.

It took her so by surprise that for a moment, she forgot to worry about him.  So by surprise that for a moment she didn't move.

Hug him.

He shuddered again, and she threw her arms around his shoulders, squeezing him back into the present, soothing her fingers through his hair.  She couldn't sing him a lullaby.  All she could do was breathe noisily through her teeth, making a soft hushing sound like the surf against the shore.  She rested her cheek to the top of his head and slowly rocked back and forth, coaxing him to relax.  To calm down.  He was safe.

His skin was so warm.  Slicked with anxious sweat.  Scars ticked like hash marks across his back.

In the doorway, the abbot looked down at Link in concern, and had she not been pouring all her comfort into Link, she would have stiffened that they were showing far too much closeness, they were being too flagrant. 

But when the abbot met her eyes, none of his concern was directed at her.  He seemed almost to approve of her.  A question lingered in his eyes, Do you have this under control?

She gave a subtle nod.  I've got it.

The abbot returned her nod.  Trusting her.  And how could he trust her, except that Link was so broken that it would be foolish to think of anything beyond comfort.  

The abbot retreated, giving them privacy.

The door to the cell stayed open.

With a deep exhale, Link's shoulders loosened, but his arms still locked around her. It seemed as if he'd fallen asleep.

She pressed her cheek tighter against his head and settled herself to be as comfortable as she could while sitting up and holding him through the night.

.

Chapter 10

[always-one-step]

Warning Disturbing Horror Story:

Every summer, without fail, I would eagerly anticipate the arrival of the school break. It meant one thing: heading to my uncle's farm for a few weeks of fishing, exploring, and just being away from the city. This year was no different. As soon as the final bell rang, I packed my bags and headed straight for the countryside.

Arriving at the farm, I was greeted by the familiar scent of freshly cut hay and the sound of birds chirping in the distance. It felt like coming home. My uncle greeted me with a warm smile and a firm handshake, and together we set about catching up on lost time.

On one sunny afternoon, my uncle suggested we go fishing at Willow Lake. It was a secluded spot, surrounded by dense forest, with only a narrow dirt path leading to its shores. We packed our gear and made our way through the trees, the anticipation of a peaceful day by the water growing with each step.

As we settled in by the lake, casting our lines into the still waters, I heard a faint sound in the distance. At first, I dismissed it as the wind rustling through the trees. But then it came again, louder this time – the unmistakable sound of footsteps crunching on twigs and leaves.

My uncle and I exchanged puzzled glances, our senses on high alert. 

-It's probably a deer or a camper at this time - I said to my uncle. It was nightfall after all, the animals might be looking for a place to sleep.

The noise continued. They seemed to be getting closer now. It didn't look like an animal, it sounded as steps were approaching us.

We scanned the tree line, half expecting to see a deer or some other woodland creature emerge. But what we saw chilled us to the bone – a figure, shrouded in white, slowly making its way towards us.

I could feel the hairs on the back of my neck stand on end as the figure drew closer

-What is that?- I thought to myself as its movements were ghostly and unnatural. 

My uncle grabbed my arm tightly, his expression a mixture of fear and disbelief. Neither of us dared to move, transfixed by the eerie sight before us.

As the figure stepped into the clearing, I could see it more clearly now – a woman, dressed in a tattered wedding gown, her eyes… there was something about her eyes that I couldn't understand. 

They were almost empty, I finally realized. No soul appeared to be looking at us. I felt a shiver run down my spine as I realized that what we were witnessing was no ordinary encounter.

Without a word, my uncle and I gathered our belongings and scrambled to our feet, our hearts pounding in our chests. We stumbled over roots and rocks, our only thought to put as much distance between us and the apparition as possible. But no matter how fast we ran, it seemed to be always just behind us.

Panic gripped me as I realized we had lost our way in the dense forest, the trees closing in around us like malevolent sentinels. I could hear my uncle's labored breathing beside me, his face pale with fear. We were completely at the mercy of whatever haunted these woods.

Suddenly, a lullaby was whispered in the darkness, soft and ethereal. It seemed to come from right behind us, echoing through the trees like, filling the forest. No animal dared to interfere with that sound except for our heartbeats.

My uncle and I exchanged a terrified glance, realizing that we were not alone in these woods – and whatever lurked here had no intention of letting us leave.

With a sinking feeling in my stomach, I knew that we had stumbled upon something far more sinister than we could have ever imagined. The ghostly bride, with her empty eyes and ethereal presence, seemed to be drawing us deeper into her world, a world of darkness and despair.

-We have to get out of here, my uncle's voice broke through the silence, his words filled with desperation. His eyes wide with fear. But as we turned to flee, we were met with a sight that froze us in our tracks – the ghostly bride, blocking our path with a chilling smile on her lips.

I felt a surge of adrenaline coursing through my veins as I realized that we were trapped, with no way out and no one to turn to for help. The forest seemed to close in around us, suffocating us with its oppressive darkness. I could hear my heart pounding in my ears as we stood there, paralyzed with fear.

Just when it seemed like all hope was lost, a faint glimmer of light appeared in the distance – the glow of a lantern, bobbing through the trees like a beacon of salvation. With renewed determination, my uncle and I set off towards it, our feet pounding against the forest floor as we raced towards the promise of safety.

As we emerged from the forest, gasping for breath, we were met by the sight of an old hermit, his weathered face illuminated by the soft glow of his lantern. He beckoned us closer, his voice a raspy whisper. “You're lucky to be alive," he muttered, his eyes flicking nervously towards the darkened woods behind us.

The hermit's words sent a chill down my spine, and I felt a sense of unease settle over me like a heavy cloak. But as quickly as the feeling had come, it was replaced by relief – relief that we had escaped the clutches of whatever haunted those woods. Little did I know that our ordeal was far from over.

As we made our way back to the safety of the farm, I couldn't shake the feeling that we were being watched, that the ghostly bride still lingered in the shadows, waiting to claim her next victim. I vowed never to return to Willow Lake, to leave behind the darkness and despair that lurked within its depths.

Years have passed since that fateful day, but the memory of our encounter with the ghostly bride still haunts me, a constant reminder of the horrors that lie just beyond the edge of our reality. I often wonder what became of her, whether she still roams the shores of Willow Lake, her ghostly presence forever etched into the fabric of time.

And so, I find myself lying awake in the darkness, unable to shake the feeling that she is out there, waiting for someone, her eyes empty and soulless, her ghostly form forever haunting my dreams. I pray that I will never again come face to face with the horror that lurks in the shadows, but deep down, I know that some nightmares never truly end.

To anyone who dares to venture into the depths of Willow Lake, heed my words – beware the ghostly bride, for she is a harbinger of darkness and despair, a specter from beyond the grave. Once you have seen her, you can never unsee her, and her haunting presence will linger with you long after you have left the shores of that cursed place.

Say hi to her for me.

Title: White at farm

[elmundodeflor]

Happy Birthday Hanji Zoe

✨️ Written in the Stars ✨️ - a Levihan drabble, for Hanji

•

•

The beach laid quiet that night. The low murmur of waves meeting the sand the only distinguishable sound echoing at the distance, almost like a hushed lullaby.

The kids had paid him a visit earlier that day, as they did every year when the last scraps of summer started to fade into the chill of orange trees and autumn breezes. It was nice to see them again, honestly. Levi was proud of the young men and women they had all become.

But he needed time to breathe alone, he figured. Time to be with himself in solace.

Gaby had taken him to the shores had everyone said their goodbyes, much like he'd asked of them. Then, she'd left back inside the house to finish up clearing the tables. He noticed, she had grown taller; taller than him, even, and that she wore her auburn hair in an unkept messy ponytail.

It reminded him of them.

Everything reminded him of them.

He looked over at the sea, there where the dark waters met the black night skies, and let out a heavy sigh that melted into the salty air.

It seemed forever ago when they had first reached beyond the walls. When they touched a world so new it felt they could grasp the horizon between their fingertips and nothing could ever hurt them anymore.

It was a simpler time, maybe. Even when war awaited, hidden in the shadows. The kids played amongst the crashing waves, laughing like the little children they had no chance of being, and hope painted the sky of bright clear blue. Even when fate uncertain clouded the roads ahead.

It was easier of a life, he mulled, surely, wincing at the memories flooding bittersweet. They were still warm and safe and alive next to him. And he much preferred uncertainty to the concrete and finite of death.

He exhaled. Hanji had held his hand and guided him along the shores that night, when they decided to set camp across the sand, curious and excited, like they had once explored mistery. The kids were already sound asleep in their tents, and everything else around them was drowned in silence.

"Have I ever told you about the stars, Levi?", they'd said.

He nodded, letting go of them if only for a brief second. They had stopped walking, far away from their lit bonfire, only to sit down together in the sand, facing the vastness of the universe side by side; two halves of a whole.

"You've told me way too many things, four eyes.", he admitted.

They laughed; a small sound that was ever so precious to his beating heart.

"Well, did you know they are nothing but boiling rock, pressed together by gravitational force?"

Levi shrugged. He usually had no idea what half of that scientific terminology meant, whatsoever, but still decided to listen either way. Time after time again.

"I guess it kinda makes sense.", he'd concluded, unsure. And Hanji smiled, with a fondness only reserved for moments like those they shared in the intimacy of eachother's company.

"A while back I read about them having some sort of life, much quite like us humans.", they'd explained, glaring up at the trail of specks that glimmered over the black infinity. "It's funny, you know? 'Cause when they die, it could be months or even years after they become invisible to us here on Earth."

Levi swallowed. There was a lump tightening his throat that he hadn't even noticed forming until he started struggling for air.

"Is it because of how far away they are from us?", was all he managed saying.

Hanji remained quiet for a while; a sigh of melancholy escaping them inevitable, slipping into the soft of the wind's melody.

"Sometimes, I like thinking that our fallen comrades turn into stars.", they'd confessed; dropping their weight free onto the sand immense, almost as broad as the skies above. "That we can still see them, even after they've been long gone. And that, in spite of their clear absense, their light still shines for us who're over here."

Levi had nodded, once more. He had never thought about it that way back then, but he certainly did now.

Was Hanji watching him, as he'd wished for that day? Were they still present, beating iridiscent in the shimmering of the brightest star?

He stared up; his only eye searching for signs written in the night.

It was hard to be without them, really. Desperating, even; to know a world without their shining light reaching for every corner, as fiery as the smoke that had once tarnished them whole. His heart hurt and twisted and turned, shattered to pieces with every beating day.

But specially that one.

Specially when life reminded him they should have been on Earth, by his side, and not wandering lost around the gates of heaven.

He grumbled, much to his desdain, and traced his fingers through the scars that had sewn him miraculous, back to life. Hanji's birthday week had always been difficult, but that one was specifically gut-wrenching.

September fifth, and they would have turned fourty, Levi remembered. Because, of course: how could he not?

Fourty, he thought to himself; a deep sigh, tinted of sorrow blue almost rushing through him.

He was sure, then, that they would have joked about becoming a fossil, if fate had ever given them the chance to, and that they would have smiled, evergreen as they blew out their candles; joy sealed concrete, imprinted permanent on the corners of their eyes. He was certain, also, that they would have booked a ticket anywhere right after the party was over with, and that they would have spent a lifetime following the clouds; because they were impulsive like that.

He chuckled; brief, yet audible.

It was ironic, honestly, how silver linings were starting to splatter his ever-dark hair, and Hanji would be no more, forever stuck in eternal youth.

No wrinkled smiles, no candles to blow.

They were ripped too early, for they would never be able to walk the world they once fought so vehemently to liberate.

No threads of grey crowning their head. No birthday cakes. No chances of attesting time change their skin. Nor growing old next to him.

The kids had brought them presents, though, as they did every year. Armin, a handful of titan books and a letter from sweet Mikasa, over in Paradis. Annie and Pieck a box of their favourite tea, along with a bottle of the local marleyan wine. Connie had fetched a bouquet of the lilac flowers Hanji used to love, and Jean had drawn them immortal into thick chalkboard traces: so realistic, Levi's heart had froze for over a good minute.

"You see?", he spoke, swiftly into the darkness. His chest stung with fiery anguish, much like the tears he held restrained inside his eyes. "How loved you are, shitty glasses..."

He never knew why he could never tell them such himself, back when they were still alive.

How could he be such a coward?

He had loved them, then. Loved them, still. Loved them always.

Were they ever aware that he loved them?

He exhaled, tiresome, and clutched his broken hand between steady fingers; a refugee he had built if only to savour the last of their breathing warmth, right before smoke had drowned them worlds away.

Hanji Zoe. The crazy titan scientist. A misunderstood soldier. A tornado that had spun his universe on its axis and ablazed his soul into burning flames.

He had loved them. Intense and achingly pure. He had loved them, although aware that surrendering himself to love was only condemning his emotions to the agony of eternal loss.

Maybe, that was why he had swallowed the words shut, he sought. Why he chose to explode in silence, instead of bombing wholes and make a mess of what little he had left. What would have been the diference, had he told them? Would there have been any?

Earlier that day, Reiner had given him a gift from both Flegel and Queen Historia herself: a fancy ring, of white gold and purple glimmering stones. He wondered, in his now solitude, if he would have put it around Hanji's finger had they breathed longer to keep him company. If he would have been brave enough to place the right questions, in spite of there never existing a fitting time.

He swallowed, impossible, and finally allowed himself free to cry in silence, for the suffering shaking his bones frail was just too much to bear alone.

When was the last time he'd cried like that? He figured, eventually, pain was something a soldier like him had to learn how to live with and in spite of. So he had kept it guarded to forsake his sanity, awfully convinced it would be for the best.

Even when he'd forgotten how much goodbye weighed heavy on his soul. How needed it was to set all hell loose, every once in a while.

He inhaled, sharply, and looked over at the seas through now blurry vision. The moon white reflected round over the rather calm waters; the only witness of his pouring emotion, flowing endless out of him.

Would Hanji know they were free now, thanks to them? That they had all tasted the peace they had once risked everything to discover?

Would they know he loved them, as deep as the ever-unreachable ocean?

The night was still yound and summer was slipping away and they would have been fourty. But they were gone and a piece of himself would always be missing, gone fourty times over with them.

"Four eyes...", he said; voice faltering, left fist closed tight across his chest, there where his heart remained fractured, but beating, still. "Happy birthday."

He assured, then, he was going to live through the pain, much to his terror of even trying. He was going to, if that was what would have made them joyful and content, wherever they were.

He promised, he was going to live for them.

Even when his only and biggest regret was ever agreeing to let them go that day.

"Hanji..." he glanced over at the sky, and extended his hand up open; as though he could touch them one last time, feel them laugh in the cool of the chanting breeze. "I will always love you. Did you know...?"

Stars danced and winked and sparkled blinding atop his head, attesting to the truth behind his words; purple like the stones in his ring. Precious like their favourite color.

He was going to live for them.

Maybe, because they were still watching, after all.

[universalinfo]

Unforgettable Family Vacations in Hawaii: Discover 7 Kid-Friendly Wonders

Ever dreamed of sinking your toes into the sun-kissed sands of Hawaii with the sound of waves playing a melodious lullaby in the background? If yes, you're about to embark on an exciting virtual journey to one of the world's most captivating destinations. 

Family vacations in Hawaii are nothing short of magical, with the perfect blend of adventure, relaxation, and cultural exploration. In this blog post, we’ll unravel seven awe-inspiring adventures that cater to tiny tots, teens, and every age in between. Let’s take a look, shall we?

1. Beach Bonanza: Sun, Sand, and Surf

Hawaii boasts a spectrum of beaches, each with its unique charm. Picture this: Golden sands stretching infinitely, the ocean sparkling under the sun, and a serene horizon beckoning you.

For the younger members, Hawaii's beaches are a giant sandbox. Let their imaginations run wild as they craft majestic sandcastles, hunt for seashells, or simply chase the gentle waves. 

Teenagers? They're in for a treat. Surfing lessons from local experts will get their adrenaline pumping. They can ride their first wave under the warm Hawaiian sun, with the Pacific wind cheering them on. And let’s not forget a family game of beach volleyball or frisbee, followed by a cozy evening bonfire.

2. Luau Love: Dive into Hawaiian Culture

The heartbeat of Hawaiian culture can be best felt at a traditional Luau. Picture a warm evening under starlit skies, torches illuminating the night, and the rhythmic sound of drums echoing in the distance.

Kids will be entranced by the tales of ancient Hawaii, narrated through dynamic dance moves of hula dancers. Their vibrant costumes, fluid dance moves, and expressive storytelling are an absolute visual treat. 

But that's not all. Participate in craft demonstrations, watch the unearthing of the pig from the imu (underground oven), and wrap up the night with a sumptuous island feast. With poi, kalua pork, and coconut haupia on your plate, your tastebuds are in for a dance too.

3. Hiking Heaven: Explore Nature's Best

Nature’s masterpiece awaits those who seek it in Hawaii. Verdant rainforests, fragrant eucalyptus groves, and trails lined with colorful flora beckon families to embark on a hiking adventure.

For starters, how about a leisurely walk in the bamboo forests? Listen to the soothing sound of bamboo stalks swaying with the breeze. Seek out hidden waterfalls where you can take a refreshing family dip. 

If your clan is more into challenges, take on the trails that lead to panoramic summits, gazing upon the vast expanse of the ocean and the quilt-like pattern of the islands. Remember to pack some snacks. You’ll find countless scenic spots to sit, relax, and relish a delightful family picnic.

4. Marine Magic: Underwater Wonders

Hawaii's underwater world is like a vibrant canvas painted with a palette of colors. Dive into this aquatic wonderland to discover a world that’s bustling with life.

Snorkeling is an adventure that’s both fun and enlightening. Float on the water's surface and peek into a universe where corals form intricate designs, and fish of all shapes, sizes, and hues dart around playfully. If you're lucky, you might even spot a friendly sea turtle gliding gracefully.

For the little ones, tide pools along the shores offer an opportunity to spot tiny marine creatures in their natural habitat. Crabs, starfish, and little fishes become the stars of their fascinating stories.

5. Volcano Ventures: Discover Earth's Wonders

Imagine standing at the edge of nature’s most thrilling masterpiece: a volcano. Hawaii’s Volcanoes National Park is a place where Earth's fiery power meets the skies, creating a landscape both awe-inspiring and humbling.

Begin with the captivating sight of the active Kīlauea volcano. With its hissing steam vents and simmering lava lakes, it's a vivid reminder of our planet's dynamic nature. Children can turn into little geologists for a day, collecting volcanic rocks and learning about the Earth's crust. 

As the day proceeds, drive down the Chain of Craters Road, a route filled with lava flows, scenic vistas, and memories waiting to be captured. And when night blankets the park, a starry canopy unfolds above, perfect for some family stargazing.

6. Historical Hubs: Travel Back in Time

History isn’t just in books; in Hawaii, it's etched in every corner, every monument, and every folklore. Delve into tales of bravery, discovery, and cultures intertwining at places like the Pearl Harbor National Memorial.

Here, stories of the past come alive. Guided tours paint vivid images of events that have shaped not just the islands, but the world. Interactive exhibits, replete with audio-visuals, offer an immersive experience for kids. They're not just learning; they're time-traveling.

And it’s not just about wars and sailors; ancient Hawaiian temples, or Heiaus, tell tales of a rich cultural tapestry that predates any written history. Let the stones, artifacts, and ancient structures take your family on a journey through the centuries.

7. Adventures in the Air: Helicopter Rides

The islands, stunning from the ground, are a breathtaking spectacle from the sky. A helicopter ride over the diverse landscapes is an adventure your family will reminisce about for years to come.

Soar over emerald valleys carved by ancient rivers, hover beside cascading waterfalls that seem to pour straight from heaven, and get a bird’s eye view of volcanic craters that once roared with molten fury. Each twist and turn in the air unveils a new vista, a fresh perspective. It's Hawaii like you’ve never seen before. And with the pilot sharing intriguing tidbits and island secrets, it’s an educational joyride too.

Dreams and Wishes Travel: Crafting Memories in Hawaii

Every moment in Hawaii is a memory in the making. But ensuring those moments are seamless, magical, and tailored to your dreams? That's where we come in. At Dreams and Wishes Travel, we craft not just vacations but experiences.

From choosing the right beach resort with kid-friendly activities to ensuring you have the best seats at the most authentic Luau, our expertise transforms your vacation into a storybook adventure. 

Thinking of a surprise sunrise picnic for the family? Or a private tour of hidden gems? We've got you covered. Our meticulous planning means you get to relish every Hawaiian sunset, every splash in the ocean, and every hiking trail without worry. We're here to sprinkle that extra magic, ensuring your Hawaiian vacation is truly a dream come true.

Conclusion

Hawaii is not just a destination; it's an experience. From its rich history and vibrant culture to its awe-inspiring landscapes and thrilling adventures, Hawaii promises an unforgettable family vacation. And with Dreams and Wishes Travel by your side, every moment in this paradise will be meticulously planned, leaving you free to soak in the magic.

 Let’s embark on this wondrous journey together and turn your dream Hawaiian vacation into reality. Ready for an adventure?

Read More:

Discovering Hawaii

[sughoshperur]

Leaving Footprints, Taking Memories: My Bhandardara Camping Story

Echoes of Adventure: My Bhandardara Camping Extravaganza

Bhandardara, a hidden gem nestled in the Sahyadri range of Maharashtra, has become synonymous with tranquillity and natural beauty. My recent escapade to this picturesque destination for a camping adventure left an indelible mark on my soul. The memories forged in the lap of nature at Bhandardara Camping are a testament to the magic that unfolds when one embraces the great outdoors.

The journey to Bhandardara itself was a prelude to the enchantment that awaited. As I approached the campsite, the pristine landscapes unfolded like a vibrant tapestry, revealing the lush greenery and the calm waters of the Bhandardara Lake. The promise of an adventure filled with both solace and thrill hung in the air.

Bhandardara Camping by the Lakeside

Our campsite was strategically positioned by the shimmering Bhandardara Lake, offering a panoramic view that instantly put my mind at ease. The gentle lapping of the water against the shore created a soothing melody, welcoming us to a world far removed from the cacophony of urban life.

The day unfolded with a delightful exploration of the surroundings, highlighted by the captivating Umbrella Falls. Cascading gracefully down the rocky terrain, the falls earned its name from the umbrella-like pattern it creates as the water descends. The cool mist that enveloped us as we stood in the spray of the falls was invigorating, setting the perfect tone for the camping adventure that lay ahead.

Umbrella Fall Bhandardara: Nature's Shower

One of the highlights of my Bhandardara camping experience was the visit to the famous Umbrella Falls. Tucked away in the dense forests, the falls earned their name owing to the unique umbrella-shaped cascade. The trek to the falls was an exhilarating journey through verdant trails, accompanied by the soothing sounds of chirping birds and rustling leaves.

Upon reaching the falls, the sheer force and beauty of the cascading water left me in awe. The cool mist enveloped me as I stood beneath the refreshing downpour, creating an unforgettable moment that seemed to freeze time. The Umbrella Fall Bhandardara proved to be a natural oasis, a rejuvenating pause in the midst of the wilderness.

>> Looking for some adventure in Maharashtra? Checkout Bungee Jumping in Kolad.

Bhandardara Camping Fireflies: A Magical Night

As the sun dipped below the horizon, the campsite transformed into a canvas painted with the soft glow of fireflies. The magic of Bhandardara camping fireflies at night was unparalleled, with the flickering lights resembling a celestial dance. The fireflies added a touch of enchantment to the serene surroundings, turning the camping experience into a surreal dreamscape.

Gathered around the crackling campfire, fellow campers shared stories and laughter, creating bonds that transcended the fleeting nature of the moment. The warmth of the fire mirrored the camaraderie, and under the star-studded sky, we found solace in the simplicity of sharing tales amidst the wilderness. For more details on camping in Bhandardara visit Universal Adventure.

Bhandardara Lakeside Camping: Nature's Lullaby

Waking up to the gentle lullaby of nature at Bhandardara Lakeside Camping was a sensory delight. The tranquil waters of the lake mirrored the changing hues of the sky, creating a canvas of breathtaking sunrise vistas. The morning mist lifted, revealing the majestic peaks that stood guard over the Bhandardara region.

The Bhandardara Lake Camping experience offered moments of introspection and serenity, allowing me to connect with the natural rhythm of life. The stillness of the lake mirrored the calm within, creating a harmonious symphony that echoed the beauty of simplicity.

>> Looking for some camping tips? Bhandardara Camping: Essential Details & Route options.

Farewell to Bhandardara: Echoes of Fireflies and Lakeside Whispers

Leaving footprints in the soil of Bhandardara meant more than physical imprints; it signified the lasting impact of a journey filled with natural wonders and shared moments. The Umbrella Falls, the mesmerising fireflies, and the lakeside tranquility etched memories in my heart that will endure the test of time.

Bhandardara camping is not just an adventure; it's a pilgrimage into the heart of nature, where every step leaves an imprint on the soul, and every memory is a treasure to be cherished. As I bid adieu to Bhandardara, I carried with me not just photographs but a collection of stories, a mosaic of moments that defined the essence of this captivating destination.

[i-ship-therefore-i-am]

the first bit of the kissing fic I’ve been working on for ages: (read it on AO3 here.)

Wei Wuxian’s attention has chased Lan Wangji since the first day they met—relentless, unforgiving, his eyes always looking. One day Lan Wangji can’t help but look back.

Or: Wei Wuxian and Lan Wangji share a moment of honesty during their time in Xuanwu cave, and how everything afterward changes (and doesn’t).

break upon your shore

“Cloud Recesses has been burned.”

Lan Wangji has finally done it, said aloud the words he has been holding back in the face of Wei Ying’s endless pestering. Days spent ignoring the litany of Lan Zhan, Lan Zhan. Days of deflecting demanding questions about what happened. Days of concern and care he doesn’t need. Shouldn’t need.

My leg is fine.

I am fine.

Everything is fine.

Leave me alone.

(Don’t.)

(Don’t go.)

(Don’t leave me alone.)

As Lan Wangji finally gives in, speaks the fate of the Cloud Recesses, he remembers why it was so important to resist in the first place. The moment the words are through his lips, said to Wei Ying of all people, everything threatens to crumble, a great reverberating fault line widening in his chest.

He switches from irritation and anger to sadness so quickly that he feels unmoored, like the flames of the fire in front of them in the dark cave—dancing wildly, ready to consume and destroy from within.

It is not as if Wei Ying didn’t already know about the Cloud Recesses, as if Wen Chao had not crowed about it as he dragged Wei Ying off to a dungeon that spit him back out covered in blood and a fatigue that no smile could completely cover. Though Wei Ying tried, of course. He always did.

So flippant and unregulated. So aggravatingly frivolous about everything, not only others’ hearts, but his own safety.

“Are your people safe?” Wei Ying asks now, voice soft and delicate as if he can tell Lan Wangji is reeling even as he keeps himself still. So very still. “Your uncle? Your brother?”

Lan Wangji does not allow himself to look away from the flames, to move so much as a muscle in reaction. Does not look at the face he knows will be earnest and beautiful, not when he is stuck as he is in this cave where there is nowhere to hide from it. “My uncle was badly wounded. My brother is missing.”

These are the facts. Cold. Hard. Unchangeable.

“Zewu-Jun is missing?” Wei Ying asks, tone voicing the pain in his own heart. His shoulder presses closer against Lan Wangji’s side.

Because Wei Ying is reckless and foolish and irritating and inescapable, and worst of all he is endlessly, violently kind.

Lan Wangji’s eyes flood with wetness.

Shameful. Where is his control? Emotional displays do not change facts. They never have.

He closes his eyes tight, both because he can feel the drag of exhaustion in his bones but also to escape the painful beauty of Wei Ying’s face in the flickering firelight. His teasing smile and laughter that is not Lan Wangji’s and is not meant for him and never will be. So easily spread to many with no true intent. But to escape also the tears he has almost let fall, the way Wei Ying’s provoking laughter has fallen away, leaving something even more maddening. No jokes at his expense, just an understanding that makes it impossible to keep his control perfect and undented the way it must always be. In front of Wei Ying more than anywhere else.

He will not be weak enough to cry. To give something for Wei Ying to make a mockery of. Or perhaps worse, to be seen. Understood. That somehow seems even more treacherous.

Wei Ying continues to speak softly, and Lan Wangji lets the chatter flow over him like a lullaby, like a comfort that it has no right to be. Lets it push away all thoughts of the Cloud Recesses and his brother and embarrassment and yearning. The endless confusing tangle Wei Ying sows in him. How he hates it and longs for it.

He just needs to rest. To reestablish his equilibrium. Then everything will stop tilting to the side, his foundations will solidify.

Only then, unexpectedly, soft cloth settles across his body. Warm hands settle on his shoulders. Ignore it, he orders himself. Sleep. Escape.

Against his will, his eyes flutter open. So undisciplined, so out of control.

Wei Ying is leaning over him, so, so near as he settles his outer robe over Lan Wangji, a soft look of something like fondness in his expression.

“Oh,” Wei Ying says, face close enough that Lan Wangji can see the faint blush rise on his cheeks. So close that his breath stirs the air against his face, soothing and provoking all at once. Just as Wei Ying himself has always been.

Wei Ying’s thumbs rub absently across the curve of Lan Wangji’s shoulders, giving him a sheepish smile. “I thought you were asleep.”

Maybe he is asleep. Maybe this is a dream. Maybe he is just broken and tired and unable to resist. The fleeting, thoughtless caress of Wei Ying’s hands against his shoulders spilling everything over. Because somehow Lan Wangji forgets that this means nothing. Means nothing to Wei Ying. Only thinks how much he wants it to mean something.

His hand lifts, fingers touching softly against the warmth of Wei Ying’s cheek, chasing the burn of color there, like seeking proof. When his choice is between doing this and crying, this feels only marginally safer.

“Uh, Lan Zhan?” Wei Ying says, not moving, but eyes widening. “Is there something on my—”

He stops talking as Lan Wangji’s thumb presses into the corner of that devastating, infuriating, teasing grin.

Lan Wangji briefly wonders if this is what being drunk feels like. If this is why it is forbidden, if such a state makes people just do as they please without fear of consequence. If it makes bodies incapable of being still and doing nothing which is the choice he should have made. Usually makes.  

Wei Ying has not pulled away, just blinks back at Lan Wangji for long moments before swaying even closer. His mouth opens on a gentle exhalation and Lan Wangji curls his fingers into the soft skin of Wei Ying’s neck just behind the sharp jut of his jaw. Presses in.

“Lan Zhan,” Wei Ying says, wonderingly, his voice sliding down Lan Wangji’s spine, flaring heat low in his belly.

“Wei Ying,” he says, their same endless call and response. His voice sounds wrong though. He’s giving too much away, is too ragged to hide it. Too worn to brace for the inevitable pain and embarrassment that will follow, this thing he has fought against for so long. To lose Wei Ying at last to hatred and disgust.

Maybe Lan Wangji really is nothing without his ribbon lashing him together.

It’s a horrible, shameful thought, but he has no time to linger on it because Wei Ying’s face is dipping even closer, his lips brushing against his.

It’s almost a question, the gentle not-quite-there touch, Wei Ying’s eyes still open as he watches Lan Wangji’s face, nose softly bumping against his cheek. Nudging. Testing his boundaries. As always.

It takes everything in Lan Wangji not to surge into the touch, to not just take what he has wanted for so long even as he fought against it. He is still half-braced for the laughter, for the punch line, for Wei Ying to dance back out of reach the second he tries. Did you honestly think I could want you? Want a pillar of ice?

He does not want to believe Wei Ying could ever be that cruel. Even unknowingly.

“Do not joke,” Lan Wangji somehow manages to say, wanting to sound harsh and unbending, wanting to shove and retreat, but knowing instead how broken and pleading his words are. Wanting. His hand is not pushing away, but curling tight into the silken strands of Wei Ying’s hair.

Wei Ying studies his face, something painfully sincere there. “I won’t. I wouldn’t.”

But rather than pulling back, than ending this horrible torment that Lan Wangji only has himself to blame for, Wei Ying presses closer, lips firm and warm against his.

Lan Wangji’s entire body threatens to shudder under the sensation, emotions rioting and fighting to escape his control. He sucks in a breath through his nose and closes his eyes in a panicked attempt to find equilibrium. It has the effect of focusing all his senses down on the feel of Wei Ying’s lips, the heat of his nearness, the relentless thud of his own heart. None of this centers him. Not when the simple press of dry lips is already almost too much. No where near enough.

He has to stop himself from starting at the sensation of fingers against his cheek, Wei Ying moving closer, pressure increasing. Lan Wangji’s lips give way to him as a soft round sound tries to break free of his throat.

He lets Wei Ying kiss him like this, remaining still and open under him, heat insidiously blooming in his chest, yet too afraid to give anything back, that the moment he tries to reach for more it will be snatched away. (But, how much he also wants, wants, wants.) He can’t resist the cautious flick of his tongue against Wei Ying’s lower lip where it presses between his, wanting to taste him. Wei Ying jerks, only to meet him immediately, mouth open and eager, welcoming, somehow seeming to know what it is Lan Wangji wants when he barely knows himself.

Wei Ying presses even closer, a whiney sound at the back of his throat that seems to reverberate in Lan Wangji’s own flesh like an echo or answering note. Deep. Abiding. Unescapable. He is drowning. He is coming up for a first true gasp of air.

Everything retreats unexpectedly as Wei Ying jostles Lan Wangji’s leg—sharp, unforgiving pain shooting through his entire body, enough to cut through the heavy haze of desire.

Lan Wangji hisses, feeling sweat break out on his brow, black spots in his vision. He is reeling and lost, bouncing between opposing sensations.

Wei Ying pulls out of reach. “I’m so sorry! I can’t believe—I wasn’t thinking. Is your leg okay? Of course, it’s not okay. Let me see. Did I ruin it? Does it hurt a lot?” His hand lands on Lan Wangji’s thigh as he twists to look at it, but Lan Wangji couldn’t care less about his leg in the moment. He should. That would be the proper thing.

None of this is proper.

The pain recedes as he concentrates on the wanton heat of Wei Ying’s palm on his thigh, the flush of Wei Ying’s face, his lips shiny and full and well-kissed. By Lan Wangji. That was done by him. The satisfaction unfurling in his chest is a solid, dangerous thing.

Wei Ying still babbles and apologizes, the words echoing and building against the stone walls. Lan Wangji briefly shuts his eyes against it, centering himself, even as he wants to know what, exactly, Wei Ying is apologizing for. But also afraid to know.

Do not be of two minds, he thinks automatically, and tries to let it calm him, contain him. But it is hollow, as he has always been of two minds when it comes to Wei Ying.

“Are you sorry?” he finds himself asking.

Wei Ying looks at him, eyes wide. “Of course, I am! Your leg—”

Lan Wangji shakes his head. “Not my leg.”

Wei Ying stills, and only because they are still so close, because Lan Wangji is staring at him so brazenly, unable to look away, does he see the moment of raw feeling—something like worry and pain, and more vulnerable than he would ever think to see from Wei Ying—before his expression slips carefree and teasing again.

His body is all fluttering movement in an instant, and Lan Wangji considers that can be as much a cover as stillness. It’s a startling thought, one he files away carefully to think on more when he has the chance.

Wei Ying rubs at the back of his head, smiling widely. “Oh, uh. Yes. I can apologize for that too if you like. I thought…but I probably thought wrong! And now I’ve horribly offended you. Yet again. So maybe you can just please forget I did that and we can pretend, even though, honestly, I think I’d much rather do that again, every day if you would let me, and, boy, is that something I was not expecting, but I know that you barely tolerate me and I’d rather you didn’t hate me, so we can just chalk it up to—”

Lan Wangji grabs Wei Ying’s shoulder and cuts him off by dragging his mouth back to his. Like he’s possessed, wild. And maybe he is because this time he does not sit passive under Wei Ying’s kisses, finally giving way to what he wants, mouth taking and demanding because Lan Wangji is always listening carefully when Wei Ying speaks and Wei Ying said he wants to do this again. Every day if he would let him.

Wei Ying makes the most ridiculously wanton sound against his mouth and Lan Wangji wants to swallow it down and let it live inside of him forever.

Wei Ying slides his hands into Lan Wangji’s hair, fingers pressing into the curve of his skull, each pad of his finger a bright spot of energy shooting straight down his spine. Lan Wangji lets out a gasp, pulling his mouth away just long enough to suck in a deep breath and Wei Ying immediately protests, shuffling forward on his knees, nearly falling over in his eagerness.

Lan Wangji presses his hand to the flat of Wei Ying’s back to steady him. He guides him closer out of range of his leg that no longer hurts in the slightest and maybe that should be worrying but the thought flitters away, because Wei Ying is closer now, at last, knee pressing up against the outside of his thigh right before he crushes his mouth back to Lan Wangji’s.  

Everything is heat and pressure and the slide of Wei Ying’s tongue against his, Lan Wangji feeling as if he’s swallowed an entire wildfire, not the steady power and warmth of his core, but something writhing and sparking.

With Wei Ying nearly in his lap now, there is no part of him that is not easily within reach, and Lan Wangji’s hands are greedy, like this might be something snatched away at any moment. He methodically discovers the planes of his sides, his back. Wei Ying’s sinfully red robe is so thin under Lan Wangji’s palm, hiding none of the heat or shifting muscles of his back as he reaches and writhes and never stops moving because he is Wei Ying, even while doing this, so much Wei Ying. Lan Wangji wants his mouth on every inch of Wei Ying’s body with an intensity that winds him. He can no longer feel shame for it. Just wants, sharp and liquid.

He is dizzy with the continued assault of Wei Ying’s mouth and lips and tongue and it is somehow too much and not enough, too far and not close enough.

Lan Wangji twists his hand in the front of Wei Ying’s robe, needing him closer, needing him to still, just needing something to hold onto and Wei Ying lets out a sharp yelp of pain. Lan Wangji jerks back, releasing his grip, Wei Ying’s mouth pulling free from his with a wet sound that is going to haunt him forever.

“Ow, ow, ow,” Wei Ying says between bouts of shaky laughter. “We have perhaps not chosen the best moment for this.”

“I apologize,” Lan Wangji says, horrified to have so thoughtlessly caused him pain.

Wei Ying shakes his head, pressing a hand to the still-seeping brand on his chest. “No, no. A little pain is worth it. Believe me.”

Lan Wangji can’t help but feel the flair of annoyance in his chest, everything inside him writhing and upside down and not in its proper place. “Worth having her remember you always?”

Wei Ying’s eyes widen, another laugh spilling from his lips. “Heavens. I read that so wrong didn’t I? I mean, you werejealous. But not of Mianmian. I can’t believe that. Am I dreaming right now?”

Wei Ying looks delighted, and Lan Wangji has to look away, feeling his ears burn, not sure if being so transparent is mortifying or if he’s simply relieved for Wei Ying to finally see him, if that is better than Wei Ying’s misguided teasing and blindness.

But Wei Ying doesn’t relent long enough for Lan Wangji to clarify his own thoughts. “I actually meant a little pain was worth kissing you, by the way. This entire fucking disaster is worth getting to kiss you. Isn’t that insane to even say? But it’s how I feel right now. Even if you come to your senses the moment we get rescued. Or you actually get some sleep.” There is something bittersweet under his smile, and Lan Wangji realizes he has let himself be far too dazzled by those grins to see what might be hiding underneath. Or maybe too scared to look long enough to be able to notice.

He will set himself to the task of learning better to see it. To know each and every inflection. He’s never looking away again.

“I am always sensible,” Lan Wangji says.

Wei Ying laughs again, patting absently at his shoulder. “Yes, yes. I certainly didn’t mean to offend. No one could speak against Lan-er-gongzi’s levelheadedness.”

Lan Wangji feels Wei Ying is deliberately misunderstanding him for some reason, but he has no shame left, having already broken himself open so effectively, having now felt what it is to have Wei Ying in his arms. Willingly. Enthusiastically. There is no lying to himself. And there is no lying to Wei Ying.

Lan Wangji reaches for the back of Wei Ying’s neck, pulling him near.

Wei Ying’s hands flap a bit in surprise, but he comes willingly, everything in him seeming to go still, almost hanging from his grip, and this is another reaction Lan Wangji wants to learn more about. Some time when he is less exhausted.

Only once Wei Ying’s face is nearly touching his own, their eyes looking directly into each other, does Lan Wangji speak again. “I am always sensible,” he repeats. He has not lost his sense. He has only taken what he has always wanted. What he will always want. There will be no recanting. To think he would is offensive to him.

“Oh,” Wei Ying says, his eyes blown wide. “Oh.”

Lan Wangji hums in agreement, attention caught by the sight of Wei Ying’s lips even as he feels exhaustion tugging relentlessly, his eyes heavy.

“So this isn’t just like, I don’t know, temporary insanity?”

Lan Wangji gives him a flat, unimpressed stare before leaning back against the cave wall behind him. “Long term insanity.” There can be no other way to describe the confliction he has been plagued with for so long.

Wei Ying lets out a startled laugh, and this one feels real and earned by Lan Wangji and it’s the most lovely sound he’s ever heard. “Lan Zhan!” he says, delighted and scandalized.

He feels his eyes sliding shut, his exhaustion a solid thing dragging him down. “Since I first met Wei Ying.”

“Lan Zhan,” Wei Ying says again, this time soft and a bit thick. “I like you so much.”

Lan Wangji struggles to stay awake, to open his eyes, to think of something to say in response, something right, but he can only squeeze Wei Ying’s arm where he is still holding it. Never wants to let go of.

“It’s okay, Lan Zhan. Go to sleep.” There’s the soft press of what must be Wei Ying’s lips against his forehead, right where his ribbon should be, seductive warmth spreading out through his entire body from the simple touch. “Sleep now.”

“Wei Ying,” he mumbles one last time, and then drifts off.

[bubblegumbi0tch]

The Vacation

Warrings: Creampie and public sex 

"Ladies and gentlemen, please clip on your seat belts and get ready for the time of your lives. The safety precautions are as follows on the screen. Thank you for flying with Peach Aviation, where every journey is exciting. The flight attendant's voice echoed throughout the airplane. After clipping on your seat belt for the landing to Brazil where Oikawa was taking you, you turned towards him. "You seriously want me to believe that this was spontaneous and not a planned vacation." Yup!" He stated, popping the p. "You seem thrilled today." You reported. "Obviously, you have put up with me for four years, and you are still here. "He smiled softly up at you. "Plus... There's the fact that I am about to get some." "Who said that? What makes you sure you are going to get some?" You unclipped the belt and got up, taking hold of your handbag next to you.

"What?! Seriously Y/N…princess?" He followed you out of the plane. What you saw in the open-air took your breath away. All around you, there are lush green mountains, sounds of seagulls, and the waves crashing entered your ears. The beautiful architecture is all around you. You turned around to face Oikawa, only to bump into his chest. His muscular arms wrapped around you stable. "Took your breath away, didn't it?" He questioned. "Happened to me too, just like the very first time I saw you, in that little black dress and heels during one of my first games, I knew I had to have you." He smiled down at you. It's beautiful, Tooru. I don't have words to explain, but it really is." You stated. "I know. When I talked to Hinata about a good place to take you, he recommended a nice beach. We visit him before we go. He stated. "Happy Anniversary, princess. "He whispered you. "Tooru, I don't know what to say. You really didn't have to do this." "You could express your gratitude by giving me a Thank-you kiss for one! "He smirked. You kissed him with all the emotions inside you. At that moment, it was just you two, two lovers kissing without any care, as their lips tangoed perfectly together. 

"You want to spend all your weekend here at the airport or actually go down to the hotel?" He pulled away. "It's a  five-minute walk from here." "Let's go!" You exclaimed excitedly and then dragged him down the out of the airport you're rolling luggage in hand and to the pathway, half cemented and half not. You marveled at the beauty of the scenery. It was stunning. The birds chirped, and the wind blew perfectly. He clasped his hand into yours. According to Oikawa, you were the prettiest girl he's ever seen. As the two of you walk both near the hotel's main doors, Oikawa checks in, and the bellhop gets your bags. As you open the door to your room, Oikawa suddenly stopped and turned to you, only to pick you up by the knees and the shoulder, bridal style. 

You squealed in surprise. "What in the heavens are you doing, Tooru?" You threw your head back in laughter. Carrying you inside our room, what else?" And then he spun around, with you in his arms. 

"Tooru !" You squealed again. 

"Keep practicing princess, you are going to need it tonight." This caused your checks to heat up. 

As Oikawa walked in further inside the room, your eyes slipped onto the glass wall on the opposite side, which gave you a perfect view of the ocean. 

"You know only married couples do this?" You questioned as you walked over to the wall. 

You heard him shuffling but paid no heed; you were far more invested in the view. "I know, but you have to admit you like it. Imagine being Mrs. Oikawa … Oikawa (y/n) has a nice ring to it, don't you think" he smiles. You nod at him. "Now, love, why don't we head over to the beach? We can watch the sunset together. As the both of you get changes, Oikawa's jaw drops the second you walk out of the bathroom wearing a bathing suit that hugs you in all the right places. Accentuating the best parts of your body. "Wow (y/n), you look amazing." You see his eyes sparkle a light blush cover his cheeks. You smile at him as he holds your hand, leading you down to the beach. 

As you walk down to the beach, you hear the gentle washing of the waves sings a lullaby to your ears. You have always loved the sound of the ocean, so serene yet holding so much power. 'Thank you again for bringing me here, love.' You tell Oikawa as he sets up a towel. "Anything for you princess you how much I like to spoil you." The two of you are sat on a towel by the beach, watching the sun paint its oranges and yellows in the sky. You were distracted by the sky that you didn't see Oikawa get up on one knee; he holds your face in his palm, gently Turing you to him. "Y/N L/N, my girlfriend, my love, and my heart. I know I am not the most deserving man on this planet. I have made my fair share of mistakes. But you have changed that. You have been a source of light in one of the darkest periods of my life, so today, I am asking you will you let me be your light? Will you do me the honor of becoming my wife?" By the time his speech ended, tears were streaming down your face.

"Yes! Yes! Thousand times, yes." You nodded. 

Oikawa got up from his position, grabbing your hand and slipping on the diamond on your finger. 

"You have made me the happiest man alive on this planet, Y/N." He stated. "I love you, Mrs. Oikawa."

"And I love you, Mr. Oikawa." He pulled you into a deep passionate kiss, your saliva mixing. When you pull apart, a string connects the two of you. You look around and notice that you two are the only ones left on the beach. That "Let's go swimming princess" he starts running towards the water. You feel your feet sinking into the soft sand. You pad after him towards the calm, beckoning water. Oikawa smirks at you. You screech into the quiet beach when he all of a sudden picks you up and carries you bridal-style into the sea. Bringing you further into the sea and complaining about the cold water. A droplet of water is trickling along the edge of his jaw; your focus is transfixed at its smooth descent to his chin. Your bodies are bobbing with the calm waves, up, down, up, down. 

Then your eyes lock, you feel a heat building up inside you. Oikawa looks at you and sears a mark in you, and it's burning like the flames of hell all the way down to your core. With the side of his finger, he doesn't need to so much as touch you to tip your head up his way because that's how willing you are. One tilt, that's all it takes to kiss him right now. His fingers are sinking into your tender waist, and immediately you need to feel inside you. "I love you, princess" He slides his cheek against yours and traces the bridge of your nose with the tip of his. He dips his face in closer to your lips, nearing one another. You taste the sea on his lips, salt, and cold. It feels like diving into the ocean, plunging into the deep blue, and simply allowing your body to be swept away. His kiss is greedy, hungry, willing you to submit to him and follow his lead. 

Legs wrapping around his torso in the water, his hands caress up your thighs to your ass, digging into your plump flesh with an ardor that releases damp arousal from your slit. Your own fingers grope down his chest and toy with his hair, scratching and tugging. When he nibbles on your bottom lip, and you know that you're done for. You melt like putty in his control, meeting his tongue with soft obedience you don't usually exert. Tooru .' You gasp into his mouth. 'I told you that you were gonna be screaming my name tonight, (y/n).' he says before diving back into you. Those words send the possessive animal in your mind wild with satisfaction. 

Because yes, he's all yours tonight. When you feel his stiff length poke underneath you, your cunt is set ablaze with desire. Desire to sink down onto him this instant and have him pound into you amidst the ocean until you both feel faint. The desire for him to break you in half with all his might, make your eyes water with from the pleasure he stabs into you. He holds you as the both of you walk to shore together. Lips never leaving one another's. His mouth travels down to your breasts, and he doesn't hesitate to devour them from your bathing suit, suckling angry red/ purple marks down your cleavage and around your nipples. Though clothed, the prominence of his big cock burrows between your wide-open entrance, rubbing against your bikini-clad clit and making you thrust your hips further into him. 

Enjoying the euphoria from his touch, you don't realize you're on land until he gently falls onto his knees and carefully places you on the towels below him. You pull him by the neck onto you. As he kisses a torching trail down your wet body, your mind is somewhere else in heaven that worships your fiancé Oikawa. His large hands kneading your exposed breasts, the wisp of his breath tingles down your stomach, tying a knot in your core. His teeth, he obscenely tugs lose the string that ties your bikini bottom together. The fabric falls loose lifelessly, revealing your soaking cunt, shimmering with want for him.

‘So wet (y/n) .’ He muses as he kisses your pelvis, finger stroking up your slick to gather the liquid of your arousal. Then he prods his finger into your mouth, your tongue compliantly lapping up your own taste, salty from the sea. 'Who made you this wet, mmm?'

'You.' You're practically pleading as he sucks viciously at your inner thigh, so close to your weeping pussy. I want you to scream my name by the time we're done." When he first links his lips to your clit, your hips buckle upwards, and fingers fly to entangle his chestnut hair. Sucking harshly on your sensitive bud, all you're capable of is squirming and writhing underneath him. The sensation of his mouth sucking on your succulence sends a shot of ecstasy down your quaking legs. Your head feels dizzy.

'"Fuck!' You whine. "You like that, princess ?' When he looks up at you, a wet smirk on his lips breathing hot air into your cunt, a coil winds in your stomach. T-Tooru.' Your grip on his hair tightens.

Then he's gorging you like a feast, tongue fluttering on your swollen bundle of nerves, your kryptonite, teeth scraping along your folds seductively. After several licks of your entrance, he pushes two digits into your gummy cunt. The ease in, lubricated by your moist walls that welcome the pressure of his intrusion into you like the open sea. He draws wide circles inside you, and it feels like your innards are being stirred to perfection by a metal rod. In the meantime, his assault on your clit doesn't falter, rhythmically hitting his tongue against you. Allowing the vibrations of his humming to penetrate your core. Looking down, this is simply the most beautiful sight you've ever witnessed. Oikawa's brown eyes glimpsing up at you hungrily, face buried nose-deep in your pussy. Hands gripping under your thighs that are rested on his shoulders, the beautiful scenery of the sunset, its glow onto you, and the ocean in the background play a symphony to your moans and his filthy slurps.

Suddenly, an explosion of pleasure arrives at your clit. 'Oh, fuck yes!' You screech, throat raw from the pure elation that washes over you. The throbbing in your cunt releases at his continuous friction, pulsating so wildly you think you will burst. His fingers pump out your high as he sucks one last time, long and hard, on your beating clit. 'Ah… Oh my god… Tooru…' he emerges from between your legs to breathe. You watch as your fluid dribble down his chin lewdly, your thumb swipes to catch the wetness.

'How was that?' Untangling his arms from your legs, he walks up on his elbows to meet your lips in a tender kiss.

'Wow.' You utter against his mouth, eyes rolling to the back of your head for dramatic effect. 'Let's continue back in our room.' Quickly you do up your bikini, impatient for more.

Without needing another word, Oikawa sweeps you into his arms, gathers all your belongings, and hastily carries you back to your hotel located just a minute away from the beach. Although, it takes much longer than a minute for you to arrive, seeing as multiple detours are made along the way, fondling behind a tree, kissing in the elevator, and missing your floor. 

And when you're finally in the confines of your shared room, he pins you to the closed door, not even bothering to switch on the lights, lips latched onto your magnetizing neck. Your wrists trapped in his grip against the hardwood, you ache to touch him as his teeth find your earlobe. Nipping at your soft round flesh, a pleasant shock is sent down your spine at the twinge of pain. 'Tooru…' You sigh. He pulls away to stare into your beseeching eyes. 'What do you want me to do to you, princess?' His voice is a low grumble of dominance, digging its talons into your brain.

'I want… I want you to fuck me until I cry.' In the dark of the room, your attention flickers to the sunset terrace outside. 'Right on that balcony over there.'

Something in his eyes ignites at your suggestion. Filled with lust, he brings you through the glass door that opens to the fresh setting night. 'You want me to fuck you right here, princess? For everyone to see?' Danger lurking one kiss away, you sense the precarious position his mind is at. So you reach down and grab his hard cock over his shorts and tip his mind to a carnal desire. 

'P-please, Tooru.' The name is the last straw for him. His breath hitches as you tug down his pants and allow his enormous cock to spring free. Spinning you around roughly, he bends you over onto the rail of the balcony and strips off your swimsuit in one deft gesture. From here, you have an unobstructed view of the coast, lined by bustling bars and closing restaurants. The neighboring terraces are a meters away; if anyone walks out now, they would horrifically witness Oikawa about to pound into you from behind. Your heart is beating in the excitement of the risk as well as the anticipation of his cock. Not being able to see him, he can thrust into you any moment now; he must be reveling in such control he holds. Then you feel it, his large thick round tip pressing against your entrance curiously. Your legs shake expectantly while fresh arousal leaks out of you, mixing with his precum he's plowing into you. 'Begone more time for me (y/n). Please, Tooru.' Allowing the words to drag out on your tongue, you twist your neck to look at him with large pleading eyes. He looks like a king, towering over you with this much assertion, relishing in the power he holds above you in this very moment. 

Hands holding your hips in place, he slams his thick member into your gaping tight pussy in one forceful plunge. You can't help but cry out at the sheer stretch of your walls he's spanning. fuck, he's so big he makes it feels like your first time together all over again. All you think at first is an incredible cinching of your core, the ache of him impaling his rigid shaft through the resisting pressure of your tight pussy. He's fucking massive. He seems to know it as well because he gives you a second to adjust to his size, palm scaling smoothly up the hill of your back to gather your hair in his hand. Then he is pummelling into you, hips slapping against your bottom, ringing such vulgar sounds in your ears. His cock, hard as if carved from marble, piercing through the pain and molding a thing of sweet, sweet pleasure inside you. You grip the rail so tight its edge gouges marks into your skin, your head hung low between your tense arms.

'Fu-uckk princess, you ohhh feel so good around me," he groans. At this angle, his cock is curving up the wrong way into you, jabbing in places that make you go crazy. A part of your soul is no longer with you, propelled elsewhere by his ceaseless merciless attack on your pussy. You feel a sting on your butt. He spanks a searing hot mark into your ass cheek. The sharp pain is refreshing alongside the dull ache behind the euphoric throb he is penetrating into you. "Princess, I love hearing your whimpers their so cute" Another slap echoes in your ears, and you welcome it by curving your back more to tip your tush higher for him.

'Tooru, you fuck me so good.' you egg him on further, stroking his ego as your tight squishy walls are clenching his dick. Pounding into you with such vigor and violence that your folds are beginning to sting. 

Moans that fall from his lips tingle at your clit, which you start to play with to add to your stimulation. Another smack on your ass, this time so surprising that you scream out. 'Yes, be loud for me. Let everyone hear how good I make you feel.' He coaxes. Oikawa begins to slow, which you know is a sign that he's close but doesn't cum yet. He bends over you, your hair still tied around his wrist, and nips at the shell of your ear. You've never known your ear to be such a sensitive area, for when his tongue flickers at your inner shell, a shudder convulses through you. Leaving slobbery kisses down the curve of your shoulder. 

You wanna Finish on the bed, princess ?' You nod, and Oikawa embraces you from behind; his strong arm comes under your cold lonely breasts that perk up at his attention, his wet cock sitting between your red ass cheeks. The hum of his deep rasp on your neck sends your head lolling back onto his sweat-covered chest. His lips seal yours as he walks you back into the room, leaving the glass door open for the night breeze to grace you. Amidst the rough sex, you treasure such a soft, delicate moment on your tongue, delighting in the way the tips of his fingers trace up your side. When his hand slithers up to your face, you melt into the warm flesh of his palm, mouth opening up for him to unfurl into.

Then the back of your knees hit the bed, and you know it's about to begin again. Without breaking the union of your lips, you clamber onto the sheets with his frame hovering over you. Grappling on his neck, you drag Oikawa on top of you as your head sinks down onto the plush of the pillow.

He sucks on your plump bottom lip one last time before pulling away. Fluid still profusely oozing out of the slit of his tip, he perches between your legs. 'How do you want it, my future wife?' His tone is endearing, yet eyes his eyes are hungry.

Impatient for him to fill you to the brim again, you lift both your legs up for him to grab and place onto his shoulders. 'Like this please, husband.' That's all you have to say for him to grunt okay and push deep into you, knees digging into the mattress. In this position, his cock reaches your cervix without hindrance, his swollen head slamming into your end every thrust he gives. It's a different type of ache this time, more targeted at the one sensitive spot inside you. As he continues, you thrust into you, balls swinging at your ass, a build-up of sensitivity gathers at your core.

You feel it approaching, that imminent contortion of your cunt, looming over you, on the brink of toppling your senses.

'Keep going.' You whimper the filthy feeling of his prick hammering so fast into you enough to bring tears to your eyes. You try to keep them open, watch his tongue poke out in concentration as he watches your body quiver under his. But the intensity of his fucking is truly too overwhelming that a single droplet leaks out and flows down your temple. 'I'm so close.' Oikawa moans, pecking the bone of your ankle. Something ruptures within him; with an even more arduous determination, he drives into your walls like a crazed beast. The sole purpose now is to reach the climax awaiting him; he spreads your legs open wide before him and rabidly plunges his twitching cock.

And for the second and third time this night, your orgasm hits you, one immediately followed by the other. 'Tooru, I'm-' You're a crying thrashing mess beneath him, drool dribbling out of your mouth and teary eyes, the ecstatic pleasure obliterating your mind into ruins as your cunt erupts. The string of profanities that leave you sound incoherent to your own hearing.

You won't be able to walk straight tomorrow; you're sure of it.

Oikawa watches you break on his cock, walls tightening impossibly around him. "(Y/n) I'm gonna cum. Can I cum inside you?" His thrusts start to get sloppy than what they were from the beginning. He starts to pound into and with one final thrust, he shoots his cum in spurts deep inside you. He pulls himself out a string of cum attached to his tip. He sees you haven't moved in your original position, still dazed out from what just happened. He spreads your puffy lips apart. He sees his cum seeping out of you and onto the bed. Oikawa leans down and touches your cheek; you snap out of your trance. "amazing, Tooru." You were too tired to finish your sentence. Oikawa smiles "you were fantastic; I'm so lucky to have you as my future wife." He kissed your temple and carried you off to the bath. 

Requests are open ᡕᠵ᠊ᡃ່࡚ࠢ࠘ ⸝່ࠡࠣ᠊߯᠆ࠣ࠘ᡁࠣ࠘᠊᠊ࠢ࠘𐡏⊹ ♥︎

[tearh0seok]

For all you c!Wilbur and c!Quackity enthusiasts/ people who just like some good old fashioned c!karlnapity angst, this ones for you. Enjoy!!

—————

My Tears Ricochet

And I still talk to you

(when I'm screaming at the sky)

And when you can't sleep at night

(you hear my stolen lullabies)

<><><><><><><><><><><><><>

The bag hits his back with a solid thump, causing him to stumble forward and grunt from the weight of it. He instinctively reaches out for the nearest wall and steadies himself. He holds his breath for a second, prepared to hear the rustling of bed sheets as someone wakes up due to the noise, before he releases it in a quiet, cynical laugh. He is, as he had been for a while now, alone. No one around for him to hold, to talk to, to wake up, to care about. As he makes his way out into the streets of Las Nevada’s, he scans the area for any sign of life. Slime and Fundy must have turned in early enough, and Foolish had long stopped working on his latest big project. He strolls through the streets quietly, humming to himself as he takes in the nation, his nation. At night, the buildings and area look like a mirror image of the man who owned them: empty, cold and alone. He shakes his head trying not to think about it too much. Now was not a time for self-pity or grief. No, now was the time for revenge. The kind of revenge that he just couldn’t drag the others into, they’d never understand. In fact, they’d all think he was insane. They’d leave him behind, all alone, just like before, with-

“Quackity?”

The voice causes Quackity to drop his bag, the thud echoing against the pristine buildings of his city. He looks up at the road ahead of him, and finds Wilbur Soot leaning against the Las Nevada’s sign, a shadow under the bright lights, with his face illuminated only by the red hot glow of his cigarette. Quackity sees his lips twitch up into a tired smirk, and it immediately makes him want to punch the other man in the face. “You’re on my land, Wilbur,” he growls, picking the bag back up, and throwing it back over his shoulder. His grip on the straps tighten as he hears Wilbur laugh quietly. “I thought we put that in the past, Big Q. You know, healthy competition and all that jazz?” Wilbur says tauntingly. Quackity barely spares him a glance as he trudges past the sign, staring straight over Wilbur’s shoulder to where he can see the glow of the burger van in the distance.

“Yeah well, we’re both closed for the day so I didn’t see a need for any of the formalities,” Quackity mutters, praying that the conversation ends there. But of course, to no avail, as soon Quackity hears footsteps behind him and has to resist the oh so demanding urge to punch this guy in the nose. “Then, off the record and completely out of curiosity, as an old friend, may I ask where we’re going?” Wilbur says, as he falls into step beside the smaller man. Quackity digs his heels into the tarmac and stops, turning to the man beside him. “ We are not going anywhere, I have some business to attend to, and you are going back to wherever you came from and forgetting you saw me,” he grunts, poking Wilbur in the middle of his chest to emphasize his point.

He continues walking, and due to the lack of footsteps he assumes the other man has taken the hint and is heading home. However, he hears the sound of shoes approaching, and suddenly Wilbur is at his side once more. “Oh but now you see, my friend,” Wilbur sighs, voice laced with amusement, “now I’m intrigued. What is this so-called business, why is it so secret, and why-“ Quackity feels a slight pull on his back as Wilbur tries to peek into the bag. He quickly whips around, face to face with Wilbur, hoping the other hadn’t seen the contents of the bag. Unfortunately, the fire dancing in Wilbur’s eyes and the wild grin that covers his face suggests otherwise.

“- Why do you have so much TNT and a flint and steel, Quackity?”

It’s said quietly, but the tone of his voice is so menacing that it causes Quackity to shudder. This is really not how tonight was supposed to go, and the more time Quackity spends here talking to Wilbur, the more time he has to contemplate and regret the decision he’s about to make. So he lets his guard down, briefly, and murmurs, “It’s personal, Will, and I’m already starting to regret it, so the last thing I need is to feel guilty about dragging someone else into this too.” And with that, he slowly turns away, head hanging, and begins mentally bracing for what he’s about to do. He just needs to clear his head, and remind himself that this isn’t his fault, it’s everyone else’s for pushing him away, pushing him to this point, and for leaving him alone, AGAIN-

“Do you need some company?”

The voice is quiet and wavering, and if they hadn’t known each other for so long, Quackity wouldn’t have recognized the unsure tone of Wilbur’s voice. He looks over his shoulder at the other man, whose face, illuminated by the moon, is covered with hesitation.

“Wilbur, I just told you, I don’t want to drag anyone else-“

“I didn’t ask if you wanted company, I asked if you needed it, Quackity.”

The words stop him in his tracks. He feels all the air rush out of his lungs and finds himself struggling to breathe. He looks down at the freshly paved road below him, willing away the hot sting of tears. No one, not even Slime, has asked him that in a very long time. The last person to ever say that to him was probably-

“Listen, I know what it’s like, carrying all of this awful stuff on your shoulders. And I have no doubt that what you’re about to do is going to be something you add to the list of things you regret, but you had to do in the moment. I’m not offering to help, as I can tell this is something you need to do for yourself.” He feels a hand on his shoulder, and looks up to see Wilbur with a grim, but soft smile. “What I’m offering is my presence, just so you don’t have to go through it alone.”

Quackity pauses for a moment, taking in the weight of Wilbur’s words, but soon realizes that if he thinks about them too much, he might break down in tears. So he takes the bag off his back and dumps it into Wilbur’s arms. The other catches it with a quiet “oof”, as Quackity grunts, “Let’s go then, we need to get this done by sunrise.”

And just like that, they head off into the night.

~~~~~~~

Wilbur soon realizes that, in hindsight, he should have known where Quackity was headed all along. Quackity didn’t have any major enemies that Wilbur knew of besides Dream and Techno, but Dream is in prison and Techno is god knows where. Quackity also doesn’t seem like the type to commit an act of violence without some sort of motivation, and Wilbur’s 90% sure he wouldn’t do it to threaten someone. Really, using that reasoning, Wilbur should have known their destination. Even as they trekked across the hills and plains, Wilbur should have noticed the direction they were going in. However, it wasn’t until they came to a clearing that opened up onto a shoreline, that he saw their target. While he knows there’s no other option it could be, he still asks the question.

“Why are we at Kinoko Kingdom?”

There it stood, across the water in all its shining glory. Though it was silent in the dead of night, the nation still looked warm and inviting, a sharp contrast to Las Nevada’s at this hour. Wilbur looked at the man at his side, hoping to gauge a reaction, but Quackity’s face was hard as he stared across at the nation like it was the bane of his existence. “I thought you were here to keep me company, not question me,” Quackity grinds out, looking like he’s holding himself back from screaming, or crying, or both. And so Wilbur just shrugs, and places the bag down. Immediately, Quackity throws it open and so the work begins.

Wilbur watches silently as Quackity takes out as much as he can carry and starts making his way around the edge of the shore to the first building he can find. He looks back briefly at Wilbur, indicating for the other man to follow. And while his face remains stony, just as he turns away Wilbur catches a glimpse of the other man’s face crumpling. He watches Quackity let out an unsteady breath, before readjusting the materials in his arms and marching into Kinoko Kingdom.

Quackity, Wilbur is learning, is quite the expert when it comes to TNT. The man is methodical, precise in his placement, ensuring that each piece is in the perfect location to do maximum damage. Although Wilbur said he wouldn’t help, he eventually can’t take the boredom of just standing around, and starts to help. He hears no objection from Quackity, and so he assumes that he is alright to continue. They work in near silence, the only sounds coming from the occasional animal or monster in the distance. Suddenly, a thought comes to Wilbur’s head, and so he stands up and walks over to where Quackity is kneeling, fixing a stick of TNT into place. “Quackity, what about Sapnap and Karl?” He asks, and immediately realizes his mistake. He watches Quackity’s entire body tense up, and the man turns to him, face thunderous.

“What about them?” He asks coldly, and for the first time in a very long time, Wilbur is fearful of the man in front of him.

“Are you just going to leave them here? To…. you know….?”

Wilbur doesn’t finish his sentence, knowing that one wrong word could lead to him having a similar fate to Kinoko Kingdom. However, Quackity relaxes, ever so slightly, and turns back to his work. “They’re not here. They went hunting this morning and I heard from Foolish that they would be gone until tomorrow,” he states, voice wavering slightly, but otherwise filled with certainty. Satisfied with Quackity’s answer, Wilbur picks up some more TNT and begins positioning it near a massive pond in the heart of the kingdom. As he’s working, he hears a small voice cut through the silence.“I couldn’t do it with them here. It’s hard enough without them around, but if they were here - it would be impossible.” Quackity has never sounded more vulnerable, his voice soft yet even, but Wilbur can tell there’s a whole world of pain built within those words. So he leaves any questions he had to the side and continues to work through the silence, with only the moon, stars and the loneliest man in the world for company.

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

When everything’s done, despite the circumstances, Quackity is weirdly proud of himself. He doesn’t take too long to admire his handy work though, as it may cause him to just take it all back and go home. He begins connecting everything together with one long line of red stone. This surprisingly doesn’t take him too long, and soon he and Wilbur are making their way out of Kinoko Kingdom and back to their perch on the other side of the shore, trailing red stone behind them. Once he’s far enough away, Quackity dares to look back, and regrets it instantly. He sees Kinoko Kingdom for all it is- a clear representation of who Sapnap and Karl are, to others, to each other ,and it’s almost as if you can see the love that lives there. And then, on top of it all, protruding and ugly, is the TNT- Quackity’s doing. Quackity’s mark on the place. That is all he represents; destruction and ruin. Quackity knew there must have been a reason they left him behind, and now he sees it; pure, unadulterated evil . He is the cause of his own pain, his own problems. He gets left behind because when people get to know him- when Sapnap and Karl, his boys, got to know him, all they could do is run in fear. From now on, he is the one calling the shots, because Quackity refuses to ever be left behind again. And if that means being alone, forever, then so be it.

He sniffs and wipes his eyes as he walks, feeling like all of the armour he had put on his heart has fallen away, his wounds have reopened and he’s bleeding out. Over the dull white nose in his ears, he hears Wilbur’s voice in the distance, asking if he’s ok. However he doesn’t pay it any attention, simply connecting the chain of red stone to a button placed on the floor in front of him. He looks up one last time, at the place the loves of his life call home. And then, he presses the button.

If you’d asked him how he wanted this to go, Quackity would’ve described it exactly like this; quick, so quick that you’d miss it if you blink, and then so, so, slowly, like you were watching the life drain from the place. That was exactly what they got. The TNT detonated almost all at once, sending earth and debris flying everywhere. It was almost mesmerizing to watch as in the blink of an eye, something so beautiful was completely maimed. Then came the fire, spreading ever so slowly through what remained of the godforsaken place. As Quackity watched the flames grow, he felt a laugh bubble up in his chest. He let out a light chuckle, until soon he was gasping for breath as he cackled, all the while tears rolled down his face. Soon his laughter mixed with heavy sobs, and he felt Wilbur grip his shoulder, pulling him to face the other man. Wilbur’s face was glowing orange, almost as if it was ablaze along with the city they had just destroyed.

“QUACKITY! Pull yourself together!” He shouted sternly, shaking Quackity by the shoulders harshly. Quackity shoved him off, pushing him away with such force that Wilbur fell back into the sand.

“NO! You know what, fuck you Wilbur!” He spits, pointing down at the man beneath him, “ you don’t get to fucking tell me what to do, when you did the exact same fucking thing not too long ago. Remember that? You did it too, so fuck you. Fuck you for being here, for helping, for listening to me, and fuck you for all the shit you did in the past.” With that, Quackity whips himself around to face the destroyed kingdom in front of him.

“And fuck you!” He screams, not caring who hears or how much his voice wants to give out, “Fuck you and your perfect little kingdom, and your perfect little life. Fuck you guys for telling me you loved me.” His voice cracks at the end of the sentence and slowly his screams turn into heart-wrenching sobs. “Fuck you for pretending you cared. Fuck you for promising me that you’d stay .”

He rips both rings off of his left ring finger and throws them into the water, with such a force that he stumbles forward. He collapses to the ground, the weight of his own heartbreak too much to bear. He feels Wilbur drag him up into his lap, cradling him like a child. When he looks up at Wilbur, the other man gently brings a hand to his face, and wipes the tears from his cheeks. It’s been so long since Quackity has been held like this, that it just makes him cry even harder. He buries his head into Wilbur’s shoulder, crying hysterically into the rough fabric of his coat. His last sentence comes out as nothing more than a whisper, broken and defeated by the pain in his heart.

“F-fuck you guys for promising you would never leave me, a-and then doing it anyway.”

~~~~~~~~~

Wilbur sits in silence as Quackity continues to sob into his chest. He watches the last of what was once Kinoko Kingdom burn and crumble, until there is nothing left but smoldering rubble. The sight was almost soothing, like the quiet that comes after a hurricane. He watches as the sun rises, the night turning into a pale, eerie dawn, sky almost grey, and the tide lapping gently against the shore. The only sound for a long time is Quackity’s uneven breathing, along with the occasional hiccup, until he hears voices in the distance. “Quackity, be quiet,” Wilbur hushes him. Quackity looks up, about to say something when the voices get louder in the distance. They both pause and look over at the remains of Kinoko Kingdom, just as Sapnap and Karl emerge from the tree line. Wilbur hears Quackity suck in a breath as they watch the couple’s faces fall in horror. Karl immediately runs forward, and even from this distance, Wilbur hears him gasp and say, “Oh my god, what happened?”. Meanwhile, Sapnap remains silent, shock plastered across his face as he takes in the rubble. Karl turns back to his fiancé, and Wilbur sees the moment Karl’s shoulders sag and his head drops. “It’s all gone, Sapnap,” he hears him say, and then Sapnap is running forward to catch Karl as he collapses into his arms, crying quietly. Sapnap just bundles his lover up into his arms, tears streaming silently down his own face. After a moment, Sapnap begins to lead them back into the forest, presumably headed for a place to stay near everyone else.

Only when the pair have gone, does Wilbur notice the whimpering. He looks down and finds that Quackity is crying again, quietly this time, and is already staring up at Wilbur. He clutches Wilbur’s jacket and stares at him, eyes pleading for an answer.

“W-why don’t I feel better, Wilbur? Why did that make me feel so much worse?”

And because he doesn’t have an answer, Wilbur just embraces him once more, holding the man close to his chest as he cries.

~~~~~~~~~

“Hello Quackity of Las Nevadas, where have you been?”

If Slime notices Quackity’s puffy eyes, he doesn’t say anything. Wilbur had left him in the same place they began their journey, by the sign at the entrance to the nation. Quackity had been hoping to sneak back in undetected, but of course the innocent creature had been waiting for him at the base of the tower. At least it wasn’t someone like Foolish or Fundy, who would’ve been able to see right through him in his current state. Quackity runs a hand through his hair, and stuffs his hands in his pockets.

“Sorry Slime, I went out for a walk early this morning.”

Slime simply tilts his head, curiosity written all over his face.

“Where did you go?”

Quackity sighs, racking his brain for an excuse. It’s too early, and he’s too tired to be doing this. He gives up on trying to lie.

“It doesn’t matter.”

He starts making his way back to his tower, ready to fall into bed, when Slimes pipes up once more.

“It doesn’t matter? Why? Is it because you’re home now?”

Quackity stops.

He takes a breath, willing the tears down.

He turns around, eyes shining and gives his friend, his true friend, a small, sad smile.

“Yeah Slime. I’m home.”

~~~~~~~~~~~

Sapnap kicks a stone out of his way absentmindedly, strolling through what’s left of his kingdom. He came back to see what he could salvage from the wreckage, after dropping Karl off at Bad’s house to rest. As he strolls by the beach, he stops to pick up a piece of wood lying in the sand. As he does so, he spots something shiny lying just on the edge of the water. He crouches down, and picks it up, only to find 2 engagement rings, each with an initial engraved on them.

S

K

He clenches his fist around the rings, heart breaking all over again. He’d recognize those rings anywhere, and he knows what it means, finding them here. He brings his fist up to his lips, pressing a kiss against it, hoping, in vain, that his other love will feel it. He looks out at the water, tears flowing, and prays that someday, they can be what they once were. For now, he places the rings in his pocket carefully, thumbing them over slowly. Before he leaves, he turns back to look at his kingdom once more, and whispers,

“I’m sorry.”

And with that, he heads back to Karl, his fiancé, his home .

<><><><><><><><><><><><><><><><><><>

I didn't have it in myself to go with grace

'Cause when I'd fight, you used to tell me I was brave

And if I'm dead to you, why are you at the wake?

Cursing my name, wishing I stayed

Look at how my tears ricochet