#da: i fanfic

[tamrielic]

please

pairing – mihris lavellan × solas

fandom | media – dragon age: inquisition

word count – 282・AO3

summary – a tiny drabble that i wrote when i finished the trespasser dlc for the first time

originally posted on – 08/18/2016

As she reached for him, panicking and sobbing, she had an idea.

“Vhenan, wait! Please!” She cried, hoping beyond all hope that he would listen.

He paused in his brisk walk to the eluvian, but did not turn.

She fumbled around in her pockets with her good arm, trying to find what she was looking for before he changed his mind.

She finally found it, grabbing it and wrenching it forwards towards him, arm outstretched and shaking but her body too tired, too pained, too overwhelmed to assist in getting the trinket to him.

“Please take this. Dorian had it made. It’s a crystal that will allow us to talk to each other. I will have the other half. I… I know you don’t want me knowing anything,” she said, tears still streaming down her face. “But I need to hear your voice. To know you’re okay.”

She heard him give a shaky sigh, his shoulders trembling the slightest amount as he turned to her and quickly stepped forward and gently took the amulet from her hand. With a solemn expression, he nodded.

“Ma nuvenin,” he whispered, turning around as he said the words, stalking back towards to eluvian.

“Dareth shiral, emma lath.” She said at his back, tears coming more easily as he stepped through the mirror.

As soon as he was gone, she fell to the ground, wailing in grief.

Seven months passed. She stayed in various inns, traveling about in search of any word, any sight of him.

One night, as she lay in bed tossing and turning and unable to fall asleep, she heard it.

Across the room.

In her knapsack.

The faintest murmur.

“… vhenan.”

Her heart leapt.

© kaeyaphile | tamrielic – please do not modify, repost, plagiarize and/or claim any of my work as your own and please do not promote any of my works on other social media platforms (tiktok, facebook, wattpad, etc.)

[syilcawrites]

going back to my 2012 roots with my og otp obsession

i was obsessed with these goofballs for years during the 2010s and they're still not canon. insane

[youremyonepiece]

anxious mornings

sanji x gn!reader (no pronouns used), sanji's pov

anxiety has a tendency to spread, as sanji discovers unexpectedly early one morning.

warnings: mentions and descriptions of anxiety and related symptoms; unhealthy eating habits; small implied mention of disordered eating; slight angst, comfort, light fluff (please lmk if there are any i should add!)

word count: 3k

sanji runs a hand through his damp hair as he steps out of the washroom, unsuccessful in warding off a large yawn. though the early waking hour is by no means unusual for him, he is but human, he thinks to himself with a slight chuckle; some mornings are just going to be easier than others.

shaking his head slightly as though attempting to scatter his thoughts around him like the water droplets that fly from his hair, sanji starts to make his way towards the kitchen. he needs to start prepping for the many meals of the day if he hopes to stand a chance at keeping up with luffy's incessant hunger. his fingers itch for a cigarette, anything to help stave off the remaining sleepiness in his system, but he resists the urge. while he knows he has little to no hopes of quitting, nor does he really want to, smoking this early in the morning feels like crossing a line-- not before breakfast.

it's as he's walking across the planks of the deck in the 4 AM darkness that he hears a sound he would recognize anywhere: the sound of a stomach growling.

sanji's eyebrows furrow as his thoughts about the day's menu are entirely forgotten. his head snaps towards the cluster of barrels from where the sound came-- a stowaway? he wonders briefly, but they've been out at sea for days now. there's no way someone could have gone unnoticed for that long. the growl is followed by a vaguely familiar soft sigh, causing sanji’s brows to furrow further.

he's at the barrels in a few long strides and can't stop his eyebrows from shooting upwards when he peers over their tops to find-- you. you're sitting on the deck with your back leaning against the barrel in front of him, eyes unfocused as they gaze across the distant horizon.

your name escapes his lips in confusion before he has completely processed your presence. you jolt slightly in surprise, clearly not expecting to have any company, before tilting your head upwards to peer at him.

"sanji?" you ask in your voice that he never fails to swoon at. a pause, and then, "is it that time already?"

sanji can't help but smile at your question. you truly are so sweet, so adorable-- he relishes the sight of your wide eyes, your slightly parted plush lips, your mussed hair. you're still in your pajamas, which isn't unusual in and of itself (you tended to get ready for the day after eating breakfast with the rest of the crew) but something about seeing you like this, alone in the early hour, feels more intimate than the two of you had been before. which, granted, was not at all, but that's only all the more reason he feels grateful to be here with you now.

he makes his way around the barrels languidly before leaning against the merry's railing, facing you with a warm expression. "indeed it is, sweetness. good morning."

he watches as a small smile forms on your lips. “good morning," you say, and sanji struggles to keep his thoughts from spiraling into bliss.

“you’re up early,” he comments casually with a friendly smirk, though a concerned quirk of his eyebrow gives him away. “to what do i owe the fine pleasure of your enchanting presence, my dear?”

the corners of your mouth turn upwards at his question, but he notices the smile doesn’t quite reach your eyes. "just couldn't sleep, i guess," you respond with a shrug, breaking eye contact to stare back out at the dim horizon.

it’s clear you aren't being completely honest, but sanji doesn’t want to push you to share if you don't want to. after all, it isn't like you guys are particularly close or anything. actually, he isn't sure if you could be considered "close" to anyone in the crew, with the exception of maybe luffy.

it isn’t that you didn’t trust them, not exactly-- despite the brevity of your time with the straw hats thus far, you’ve been through enough harrowing experiences together to know that you’ve got each other’s backs. but trusting someone with your life is one thing, especially when it’s already been proven in battle, and trusting them with your feelings is entirely another. it just hasn't been long enough yet; you’re still getting to know them.

at least, that's what he hopes it is, anyway. with the way his eyes seem to cling to you like flies to fruit, he isn't sure what he'll do if the truth is actually that you disliked him.

"anything i can help with?" he offers, trying to keep his voice nonchalant. he wants to help, but he also doesn't want to impose if you don't want him around.

to his relief, you meet his eyes again and smile. "that's kind of you, but no." you don’t say anything for a moment, holding his gaze with unreadable eyes and suddenly sanji feels as though he is gazing upon anubis instead, his heart being weighed on your scale to determine his worth. after a couple of seconds that span eternity, you say, “honestly, i’m just feeling a bit... not great.”

“not great?”

you break eye contact with him to look down at your stomach, silent for a moment again. “just anxious,” you finally sigh, your hands moving to rest at a spot right below your rib cage. “i feel it right here. it feels like... like pressure is building up, but if i press down on it then it's like i can get it to release," you demonstrate, causing a growl to emanate from your torso as though you had simply pushed air out of a bag. you exhale with slight relief again, hands still firm against yourself, before looking back up at him with an abashed smile. "i think my anxiety gave me gas," you half-joke.

sanji forces himself to ignore his ecstasy-- you’re opening up to him! he had just been thinking about it, too! you trust him!-- and to focus on your words instead. it gets easier as you continue, his frown deepening at the sound of your stomach growling again as he remembers what drew him to you a few minutes earlier.

he pulls out a cigarette with the slightest tremble in his hands-- breakfast be damned. you had just unwittingly reminded him of the fact that he’s only human for the second time this day already; some things are harder to deal with than others.

he takes a long inhale of his cigarette, letting the smoke permeate through his system and dull his nerves before slowly exhaling it in a thin wisp. "sweetness," he starts when he finally feels grounded again, eyes full of concern as they meet yours, "i don't think that's anxiety."

you seemingly can't stop yourself from releasing a short, incredulous laugh, lips curved in a smile but eyebrows furrowed and eyes guarded. "what?"

"at least, i don't think that it’s only anxiety." he holds your gaze steadily despite your spike of wariness. when he speaks again, his voice is sincere. "i'm sorry. i didn't mean to say you didn't know what you were feeling. it's just--" he pulls away from the railing to crouch in front of you, faces now at the same level. the cigarette between his fingers creates a soft haze in the air between you. "when was the last time you ate?"

sanji feels the guilt spread through him again and attempts to fight it off by taking another long drag of his cigarette. he turns away from you to puff out the smoke, lost in thought.

now that he's thinking about it, you didn't show up to dinner yesterday. or lunch. your absence hadn't been odd; in the not-quite-two weeks you had been aboard, you had eaten with the rest of the crew a whopping total of four times. instead, sanji had noticed you opted to grab your dish and eat in the open air of the deck, taking shelter under nami’s tangerine trees if the weather wasn't accommodating. but he can't even remember you stopping by to make a plate for yourself yesterday. and thanks to luffy, he hadn't noticed any discrepancies in leftover food (that is to say, there was none as usual).

you had been there at breakfast, but he can't recall you grabbing anything except a mug of coffee. how could he have failed to notice? when was the last time he had seen you eat in front of him? it's been maybe two days since, he thinks, hating that he isn't certain. this had happened under his watch. and that too, with you. the person he’s trying to get closer to, to befriend and become a trusted confidant of at the very least, and at the very best... well, he finds you very attractive. but he would never cross that line unless he was wholly certain you wanted to, too.

you're silent as well, seemingly thinking back to find the answer to his question. he watches color creep up your cheeks as something dawns on you, realization and embarrassment fighting for dominance over your features. "i ate last night. at like, ten," you finally respond in a meek voice, looking everywhere but his face.

he can’t stop himself from glancing towards the kitchen. “what'd you eat?” he wonders.

you remain quiet for a moment before sighing again. "you're right. i'm hungry. i... i hadn't realized."

he narrows his eyes at you without malice, seeing through your attempts to escape answering him. “what did you eat?" he asks again, his voice’s volume softening to match yours.

you wring your hands, still refusing to look his way. "a couple of almonds," you say eventually, sounding chastised.

"and?" he prompts.

you don't respond.

"okay," sanji says, feeling his hands tremble again as he takes in your words. "okay," he repeats, "what about before that?"

"um, i think right after you cleaned up for lunch? i stole a slice of cheese, the one with the peppers in it." he can see you’re struggling to keep your expression neutral, but he isn't sure which emotions you’re fighting off.

he does know which ones he’s struggling with, though. sanji feels his stomach turn with guilt and trauma at your words. "and before that?" he asks, his voice low.

"coffee, at breakfast." your hands still but they and your eyes remain on your lap.

he exhales your name softly.

"it had milk and sugar in it," you say defensively at his meager response, voice somehow even softer.

sanji lets out a quiet, humorless chuckle before taking your hands in his. he doesn't say anything, waiting, until finally you look up to meet his eyes. "why?" he asks when you do.

you look confused. "what do you mean?"

he raises one of his hands to tentatively cup your cheek, eyes full of tenderness and concern. "are you... unhappy with the way you look?" he asks carefully, trying not to word it in a way that could be misconstrued. when your eyebrows furrow deeper, he hurries to add, "because you’re-"

"no," you cut him off before he can undoubtedly shower you in praise, "no, it's not that." and then you add, cheeks flushing, "um. thank you, though."

sanji offers you a brief smile, his hand falling from your cheek and rejoining the other with yours, before frowning again. "is it my cooking, then? sweetness, if there's ever anything you don't like-"

"no, not at all," you cut him off again, this time with more certainty as you shake your head. "i love your cooking."

“then?" he prompts lightly when you don't say anything else.

one of your feet begins to flicker back and forth like a light switch against the deck, giving away your restlessness. you’re back to looking everywhere but at sanji, at his eyes. "i'm just... not hungry."

as if on cue, your stomach lets out another low growl, causing your blush to deepen in embarrassment. sanji wants to smirk at you, poke fun at how cute you look flustered like this, but the noise reignites his guilt. reminds him how you’d gotten to this state without him even noticing.

"your stomach says differently," he simply states. sanji pulls his hands away from yours before standing up and offering one back to you. you don't hesitate to take it, and he effortlessly helps you rise to your feet. "c'mon. let's get some food in you."

your wince at his words doesn't go unnoticed by him. he gives your hand, still in his as you both make your way towards the kitchen, a short squeeze before murmuring softly, "wanna tell me about it? you don't have to if you don't want to."

to be honest, he's surprised you've been so receptive to him thus far. he doesn't want to push his luck, your grace, because if he did-- if he made you feel uncomfortable, if you began to avoid him because of it-- well, it would feel crushing, that’s for sure.

the nervousness in sanji’s chest continues to blossom as you say nothing for a few steps. however, it’s swiftly replaced with concern when you do respond, your voice heavy with exhaustion. "like i mentioned before, it's because of my anxiety." you sigh once again, weighed down by your words. "sometimes it just gets... bad. i don't know why. i'm not even really sure if there is a reason, to be honest. it just happens every now and then."

the two of you have reached the kitchen by now. he silently holds the door open for you before leading you to a barstool at the kitchen island and walking around it to the sink to wash his hands. he holds his cigarette between his lips as he begins to gather ingredients from various shelves and cabinets and places them on the island between you.

“the anxiety makes me feel... full, i guess?” you continue. “i don't feel hungry, and i definitely don't feel like eating. and i feel so nauseated because of it, too. thinking about eating makes it worse. so does seeing or smelling food." you sigh. "i know i have to eat. i guess... i just didn't notice that i hadn't really eaten recently.”

sanji turns away from you, taking a final drag of his cigarette before snuffing it out and tossing it away. “you didn’t notice?”

“...i guess i didn't want to notice." you sigh for what seems to be the millionth time and sanji feels his heart twist. “noticing means admitting something’s not... okay.”

sanji hums once you trail off, signaling to you that he heard you and understood.

you start up again after a few moments of silence, restlessness shining through once more. “it’s not really that big of a deal, though. you don’t have to worry-- don’t worry about it. it’ll pass. it always does, eventually.”

sanji doesn’t respond, instead staring at the amalgamation of ingredients he had gathered specifically for you. his eyebrows draw together as he mentally rifles through countless recipes, determined to find the right one for you at this moment. something light, since you hadn't eaten properly in a little bit. no strong scents, either, except maybe ginger since that’s good with nausea. a variety of flavors and textures, to keep it fun. it’s early, so breakfast foods-- that means the bananas, yogurt--

"are you mad at me?” you ask timidly.

he freezes, mouth slightly parting in surprise before standing straight, his attention now entirely on you. "of course not, sweetness.”

"you seem upset.”

sanji takes a beat to process your words. he thought he'd been hiding his reaction well, but apparently not. "i suppose... i’m upset at myself,” he finally admits to you.

you frown. “why?”

he offers you a consoling smile, “you haven't been eating well and i hadn't noticed." he realizes you’ve reminded him for the third time that day that he’s only human-- as much as he wants to keep it to himself, to not burden you with his thoughts, he knows he stands no chance at resisting you. who could?

“but i didn't even notice," you insist.

he feels his adoration of you helplessly grow at your rebuttal. “true, but it isn’t your job to make sure all of our crewmates are well fed and healthy. it is mine."

“fine, but we're pirates,” you shoot back almost immediately. “we should all be taking care of ourselves-- i should be taking care of myself."

he chuckles at your fervency, the warm sound filling the room. “i get the feeling you’re not going to let me win this one."

"i didn't realize there was anything to win,” you grumble, making sanji laugh harder. when he glances over at you, he sees you're smiling, causing his own to widen.

sanji works in a comfortable silence for a few moments, his smile remaining on his face as he feels your eyes on him. he takes a step back when he’s done, admiring his handiwork before proudly presenting you with a small bowl and steaming mug. “made especially for you: peanut butter yogurt topped with diced bananas and granola, served with a cup of ginger herbal tea.”

simple, but he knows that’s always best when feeling nauseous. the cold yogurt should help settle your stomach, and the peanut butter provides extra protein which he had heard could help with nausea, similar to the ginger and bananas. and the granola ties it all together with its crunch.

you give him a genuine smile as your eyes glaze over the meal he had prepared before looking back up at him. “thanks, sanji.” you pause for a moment before adding, “are you okay?”

“what?” he asks, taken aback, then chuckles slightly. “aren’t i supposed to be asking you that?”

only you, he thinks to himself affectionately. only you would share something you’d been struggling with and then ask him if he was feeling okay. ever thoughtful, ever sweet.

his question seems to embarrass you and sanji can’t help the warmth that spreads in his chest as your ears turn red. “maybe not... one hundred percent, but better.” you meet his eyes again, your smile returning. “definitely better.”

his own smile grows uncontrollably wide as he leans over the island to place his hand on yours. “then, sweetness, i’m okay, too.”

[detectivenyx]

i hate cinemasins so much you would not believe

[myhaikyuuacademia]

Hi, I know it’s super cliche but I was wondering if I could get a one bed friends to lovers story with Jaime Reyes?

This request made me so happy lmao. I wrote so much for it. Sorry it's late!

How could I not? | Jaime Reyes x reader (Blue Beetle 2023)

Summary: we love one bed. We love a sprinkle of accidental confession. Warning: tired Jaime is clingy. Canon. A/N: I LOVE this lmao tysm

You and Jaime hadn’t been friends for very long when all of the Kord stuff happened, but you didn’t hesitate to offer letting him and his family stay at your apartment while their house was getting fixed. They didn’t end up taking you up on that, since Jenny also offered them their own apartment and they’d rather take that then inconvenience you, but it was a little cramped in that apartment (not that it wouldn’t have been at yours). Jaime complained about it all the time. Especially about how Milagro had been relentlessly teasing and annoying him about stuff. He didn’t specify what. Anyway, that’s how you found yourself on a Sunday evening opening the door to a kinda disheveled looking Jaime. “Oh. Jaime. What’s up?” You moved to the side, letting him enter your apartment. “Ugh.” He groaned. “I haven’t slept properly in ages. Between renovations, hero stuff and my family seemingly being more overbearing than usual, especially in a space so small I can’t escape them, it just. I can’t fucking sleep.” He ranted and then ran a hand over his face and hair. You just chuckled as you closed the door and walked further into your apartment. “So you came here to escape?” You sat down on the couch and looked up at him, standing before you, hesitating for a second whether to sit down or what to do before deciding to do so. “Yeah” He breathed out. “I guess.” You hummed, understandingly. “Well, my doors are always open for you.” Turning towards the tv, you grabbed the remote from your coffee table. “Wanna watch spiderman with me?” Jaime sighed and then grinned, “sure.”

He didn’t last 5 minutes.

You glanced over at him and noticed his closed eyes and deep relaxed breaths. Hesitant, you gave him a nudge, trying to wake him up. The couch, and the way he was sitting right now especially, would give him a sore back and neck if he continued sleeping like this. “Jaime.” You whisper-shouted. Another nudge, “Jaime!”. Groggily he murmured and tried to move out of the way so he could continue his sleep in peace. “Come on Jaime, go to bed.” You tried pulling on his arm to get him to stand up, but he barely moved. Instead he pulled you down, so you landed half on top of him and he buried his head in your neck, while his arms closed around your waist holding you close. You froze and your brain simultaneously short-circuited and erupted into chaos. His breath was warm and even on your skin and his hands so soft on the little bit of exposed skin between your top and pants. He didn’t seem bothered by the position you two found yourselves in, hell, he probably didn’t even notice. You were pretty sure he was immediately and fully asleep again. Meanwhile your heart was still beating as if to escape your chest.

“Jaime.” You tried again after you’ve had a while to compose yourself. “Come on, let’s get you to bed, it’ll be more comfortable.” No success. “Khaji-Da?” Last resort. You heard groaning, and felt Jaime moving ever so slightly. “Come on now, let’s get you to bed. I promise you can continue sleeping in just a second.” Carefully, you tried slipping out of his arms, standing up and holding your hands out in front of you to help him up. With a pout on his lips he looked at you through half-lidded eyes before taking your hands with an overly dramatic movement and you pulled him up rolling your eyes, laughing. You didn’t notice the way he smiled at that. One of his hands still in yours, you led him to your bedroom. “Go. Sleep.” You lightly patted him on his back in a shoving way to get him to go to your bed. Standing in the doorway with your arms crossed you were observing if he was doing what you’re telling him to. He was well on his way when he stopped, as if a sudden thought occurred. “What about you?” He turned around. His voice was raspy, still half-asleep. Your heart was racing again, and your face felt very hot suddenly. “W…” you cleared your throat. “What about me?” “Aren’t you going to sleep?” “Oh. I’ll just sleep on the couch it’s fine. Plus, we didn’t really get that far with the movie, so I can just finish it.” He didn’t seem to like that answer, by the way his brows furrowed and his pout came back. “I’m not stealing your bed and leaving you to sleep on your couch. Especially in your own apartment.” “You need sleep more than I do. It’s fine. Really.” You tried convincing him. A feeling of an old western stare down crept up on you. Like whoever blinked first, lost. “Come on Jaime, just go back to sleep.” You plead, head slightly tilted and puppy-dog-eyes. His eyes narrowed. He was going to strike a deal. Or a compromise. “I’ll only go to sleep if you go. And I’ll only sleep in your bed if you do. Wait that came out wrong.”

“Pffff.” You burst out laughing. Ignoring how flustered his proposal made you. This man was gonna be the death of you some day. “You sure?” you asked jokingly. “Fine, go to bed. I’ll turn off the tv.” You sighed playfully defeated and turned around. Your heart was doing the racy thing again at the thought of sleeping in the same bed as Jaime. You groaned annoyed as you turned off the tv and lights and went back to the bedroom. For a second, you had considered staying in the living room and hoping he’d fallen back asleep, but he was stubborn and you knew that. There was no escape. And as predicted, he was sitting in your bed waiting, watching the door for you to come back. You noticed he was only wearing a t-shirt now, his sweater and pants on the floor next to him and it reminded you that you still had to change into your pajamas. Being around Jaime really saved you a lot of money on blush. You could tell he was watching you as you made your way over to your closet. If you wanted to, you could just go to the living room to change, or the bathroom. The question is, did you want to? Not really. You felt comfortable around Jaime, and you trusted him. And it’s not like you were about to get completely naked. And honestly, he probably might just look away anyway. So you took of your pants first, to put on some shorts, and then your top, to put on a flowy shirt. All the while your back was turned to your bed. You might have heard a “shut up Khaj” from behind you but you weren’t sure. Okay, maybe in hindsight it did make you feel a bit embarrassed and flustered to change in front of him. When you turned around, Jaime was staring at the wall in front of him very intently, and with a very red face.  Pressing your lips together to contain your facial expression you made your way over to the other side of the bed. “Happy now?” You asked as you sat down next to him, pulling the blanket on top of you. “uhuh.. hmm. Yeah” He was still looking straight ahead and avoiding your eyes. “Jaime.” You called out softly. This made his head turn. “Go to sleep.” You grinned. He only rolled his eyes in response and shook his head in mock-exasperation. But for some reason you couldn’t move your eyes, or stop your lips from smiling, and you kept looking at him. At his pretty, pretty face, with his soft, soft hair. His lips, that had been breathing into your neck just minutes earlier. His beautiful brown eyes that you found staring back at yours. In just a second, a tension had built up and the energy in the room completely changed. You licked your lips nervously.  What now? Neither of you dared to move. You weren’t even sure if you were breathing at this point. You felt the urge to say something, but you didn’t know what. Your mind was wiped completely empty. Jaime’s eyes were the first to flicker down to your lips.

And then his phone made a sound. You almost jumped apart, and he dizzily looked you up and down before turning around to grab his phone. His attention elsewhere and his eyes no longer on you, you remembered to breathe. Turning to face away from him, instead facing the wall he had been looking at so meticulously earlier you glid down so you were no longer sitting and let your covers almost swallow you whole. As if they could protect you from the fire you felt inside. You heard him setting his phone down again, and the rustling of the duvet when he laid down as well. You felt him looking at you. Did you dare look at him?

No.

“Good night, y/n.”

Only then you glanced over at him. “Good night Jaime.” You whispered, before looking back up at the ceiling.

By the sound of his breathing, he fell asleep soon after. Something you were, so very far away from at this moment. Your whole body was tense and your mind was going a mile a minute. You were acutely aware of his presence, his face just a couple inches to your side. There was no way you could calm down enough to fall asleep with him in your bed, next to you. You turned to face away from him, hoping it’d give you some sense of distance between you two. After some brainstorming you figured your best bet was to sneak out on to the couch once you were sure it wouldn’t wake him up. Well, that’s what you would’ve done, if you weren’t suddenly wrapped in Jaime’s arms literal seconds before you would have tried sneaking out. “Stay.” He murmured sleepily, face buried in your back. “Wh..” slipped out of your mouth as you tensed up, caught off-guard. “Khaj.” He answered your unspoken question, his hands around your waist. You had two choices. Give in, or not. You gave in.

Surprising how fast you can fall asleep when you’re in the arms of someone you l- When you’re in the arms of someone. Period.

You woke up still in his arms, and it made you feel all warm inside. Though, face-to-face now, with your face buried in his neck for a change. “Morning.” His voice was hoarse, though it sounded liked he had been for a while already. You didn’t feel like talking yet, so you just wrapped your arms around him tighter and buried your face in his shoulders more. Suddenly shy. One of his hands moved from your back to stroke your hair. This, you thought, is a moment you wished you could stay in forever. “You want some breakfast?” Jaime asked. “mmhm” you declined. “I only want to stay in bed with you.” He chuckled at that and started playing with your hair, wrapping strands around his fingers. “And to think just a few hours ago you tried to sneak out.” He teased. Your face scrunched up. “hmmh” you mumbled, “well, I changed my mind. Now you have to come over every night so I can fall asleep.” You weren’t completely serious when you said it, but Jaime just replied with a “Deal.” There was a content silence after this. He continued playing with your hair and you continued holding him. “Do you think trees get sad when their leaves fall off?” This came completely unprompted and so sudden it made you laugh. “Jaime what the fuck.” You pulled away to look at him, amused. He looked at you so full of love your brain stuttered. “I…” You trailed off. “No. If they’re capable of enough thought to be sad about it, I think they know the leaves will come back.” “But they won’t be the same leaves.” His fingers that were weaving through your hair before now began tracing invisible patterns on your skin. “Do you get sad when you get a haircut? I imagine it’s the same way.” You replied sincerely. He seemed to think about it before his face scrunched up. “I’d be sad if I got a buzzcut yeah.” You burst out laughing. After you calmed down you started running one of your hands through his hair. “I’d be sad if you got a buzzcut, too.” But I’d still love you.

“But I’d still love you.”

You didn’t even notice you said it out loud, the thought itself stunned you and made your hand stop playing with his hair for a second before you managed to get it moving again. You completely forgot about your face, so the shock was still seared into it. Eyes wide, looking at your hand in his hair, focusing on it, as if combing through his hair was the most difficult thing to do, just so you didn’t have to look into his eyes.

“You love me?”

Your hands halted and your eyes met his. “What?”

“You… love me?” he repeated in the same soft and unbelieving voice, barely above a whisper.

“What?” you felt like a broken record.

“You said you would still love me.”

“Oh.”

Oh.

In a way this situation was like the one yesterday, before his phone went off. Both of you staring at each other, not saying a word. But the energy was so different. He was waiting for you to say something, it seemed, to confirm or deny, but you didn’t know what to say. There are two wolves inside of you. So you stayed completely frozen instead. There was no phone ‘ding’ to save you this time. It was getting uncomfortable, neither of you saying anything. Your fight or flight instinct was begging for you to run. Instead, almost out of your control, your mouth opened, as if to say something. But then you remembered you had no idea what to say. “yes.” Oh. I guess we’re going with that. This seemed to break you out of your spell, you turned around, out of his arms, out of the bed, you got up. “Sorry.” “What? Why are you apologizing?” Jaime asked. Your back turned towards him you heard him move. Flight was kicking in, and you were well on your way out the bedroom when he managed to grab your arm and keep you from moving further away. “I love you!”

You stood still. Then you turned around. “I love you too.” Jaime said again, this time adding the ‘too’. “So you don’t have to apologize.” It was a little funny, if you were honest. The way he was half kneeling on your bed half standing on the floor, holding your wrist and telling you he loved you in just his shirt and underwear. “You do?” “Yeah. Of course. Of course I do, how could I not?” He said it so earnestly, it made you want to laugh because he was still in that weird position. “You do.” No longer a question. You stepped closer with a smile. “You love me.” Grinning now. “You love me.” He just repeated. Spiderman pointing meme. You nod. And then you kiss him.

[cncowitcher]

sim amigas, eu usaria uma coleira, deixaria esse homem fazer o que quiser comigo e me arrastar nessa neve é uma delas seria uma puta cachorra mais burra desse calçadão vadia brinquedinho somente e exclusivamente ☝🏽 de enzo vogrincic e diria obrigada pra qualquer coisa que ele quisesse me dar ou fazer comigo

[graphic--horde]

Minecraft stamps bcs I'm imploding

[ghosttotheparty]

a mess of holy things (preview) cw: (soft) dom/sub; mentions of god & church; nsfw

“You’ve ruined my spirit,” Steve giggles, dodging Eddie’s hand as it whips out to tap his cheek. “Defiled my soul!”

“Don’t say it like that,” Eddie laughs, snatching a pillow up and hitting Steve with it as Steve laughs, trying to catch it. “Like I’ve corrupted you.”

The word does something to Steve, who falters as he grabs the pillow from Eddie and hits him back. Eddie hides his face, laughing in that way he does, his nose scrunched, eyes squeezed shut. Steve looks at him, hesitating. 

“...What if I’m… Like. Into that?” 

Eddie looks at him, flicking his hair back and raising his eyebrows. Steve’s face flushes with embarrassment, but it fades after a moment when Eddie reaches for the pillow and tosses it aside, pushing Steve back against the armrest of the sofa gently, leaning over him. 

“Well, in that case,” he says slyly, smoothly, leaning down to kiss Steve’s lips chastely. Steve’s chin tilts up, and his eyes flutter for a brief moment. He looks up to find Eddie gazing down at him, eyes shining, lips curved into a small, soft smile, and after another moment Eddie kisses him again, his hand lifting to hold the side of Steve’s face as their lips part. Steve reaches to hold his waist, fingers tightening on the fabric of his shirt.

They’re both panting when they part, lips wet, and Steve opens his eyes to look at him.

“You like that I fucked you up?” Eddie asks softly, and Steve squeezes his eyes shut for a moment, nodding. 

“Yeah,” he says breathlessly. “Yes.”

Eddie smiles at him, caressing his face. 

“I want…” Steve trails off, eyes trained on Eddie’s lips, his heart pounding. Eddie nudges their noses together, still smiling. 

“What do you want, baby boy?” he whispers. “Tell me.”

“I…” Steve shifts, and Eddie lets him sit up, leaning back to sit across from him. Steve looks at the sofa between them, his fingers tangling anxiously. “I want…” He takes a short breath, closing his eyes as he exhales, finding his words. 

“I wanna belong to you,” he says slowly, still looking down, “the way… the— the Church thinks I belong to them.” He pauses, biting his lip, cheeks hot. “That doesn’t make any sense,” he mutters almost to himself, but Eddie interrupts before he can apologize. 

“That makes sense,” he says, his voice light, gentle and quiet. “...Look at me.”

Steve is helpless to obey, lifting his gaze to meet Eddie’s, throat suddenly tight, and Eddie’s expression is soft, head tilted. He reaches out to touch Steve’s cheek, running his fingertips down to his chin to lift it as he leans in to kiss him softly. Steve melts into it, shoulders slumping. 

“You know you don’t have to be ashamed of what you want from me,” Eddie says gently, still holding Steve’s chin. “Right?”

“Yes, sir,” Steve says weakly. Eddie’s smile widens a little. 

“Good boy,” he murmurs. “Now look at me,” he says more firmly. “And tell me what you want.”

His hand falls. 

Steve’s eyes flick back and forth between Eddie’s, and he takes a deep, slow breath, pausing for a moment. His fingers are still tangled in his lap, and he wants to reach out and hold Eddie’s hand, but he can’t make himself reach out to him. 

“I w—” His voice cuts off, and he looks away as he swallows nervously before he meets Eddie’s eyes again. He sees the brief shine of approval in Eddie’s expression, a slight smile and a nod. “I want you to… to remind me that I’m yours.”

He takes another breath, and Eddie waits. 

“And no one else’s,” Steve adds, his voice soft and weak. “…Not even God’s.”

Eddie blinks at him, quiet. 

Steve’s heart is beating so fast it might jump out of his chest, and he can’t really catch his breath, even when he inhales slowly and deeply, it’s like his lungs don’t quite fill all the way. After a moment he realizes Eddie’s eyes are shining like he might start crying, and Steve’s chest tightens even more, aching as he leans a little bit closer, longing to reach out and touch him. 

Eddie beats him to it, hands raising to Steve’s face, holding his cheeks as he leans in and kisses him hard, their mouth crashing together as Steve gasps. It’s a lingering kiss, softening after a moment, and Steve finally touches him, lifting a hand to hold his wrist. 

Eddie presses their foreheads together when they part, breathing hard, and then he lifts his head, looking at Steve. His eyes are still shiny. 

“I want you to go to my room,” he says quietly, firmly, “and get naked. And I want you to wait for me. I’ll be there in a minute, okay?”

“Yes, sir,” Steve breathes, eyes falling to Eddie’s lips as his brain fuzzes. Eddie smiles softly, kissing him again before he lets his hands fall. 

“Go on,” Eddie says, lifting his chin in the direction of the door, and Steve exhales, leaning in to kiss him one more time before he stands shakily and leaves the room. 

His hands shake as he lifts his shirt over his head and folds it before setting it on Eddie’s desk chair. His chest still feels tight, but he can still feel Eddie’s lips on his, Eddie’s hands on his face, Eddie’s whispers ghosting over his skin. And it all makes him feel better. Makes him feel like God isn’t glaring down at him. Makes him feel right. 

He shivers when he’s bare, making sure his clothes stay on the chair before he looks around the room, pausing, unsure of where he should wait. He eyes the bed for a moment; it’s made neatly, the blankets smooth, pillows organized, but after a second his gaze falls to the floor next to it. 

He kneels. 

The wood makes his knees ache, but he sighs in relief, closing his eyes, hands folding over his lap as he waits for Eddie. The skin of his thighs is warmer than his fingertips. 

He opens his eyes when he hears the floor creak outside the bedroom door, a slight shift in weight, and Eddie is coming in, eyes trained on Steve. His hair is tied up now, and his sleeves are pushed up to reveal his inked forearms, and Steve feels his blood rush. Eddie closes the door behind himself like they need privacy from the rest of the apartment, and something about the way he does it makes Steve’s head feel too light for his neck. He exhales slowly, lifting his chin to look up at Eddie as he approaches him. 

Eddie touches his face, holding his chin, sighing softly. 

“Did so well waiting for me,” he murmurs. 

“I like being good for you,” Steve says without thinking, his voice slow and sleepy. Eddie smiles down at him, and then he’s moving down to the floor, kneeling in front of Steve, their knees touching. 

“I know,” he whispers. “‘S why you’re my good boy, right?” Steve is nodding before the last word is even out of Eddie’s mouth, and Eddie’s smile widens, his eyes sparkling. “Always so perfect,” he adds, murmuring, his hands touching Steve’s face. Steve’s eyes close. 

They open when Eddie’s hands disappear from his face, desperately looking for him even though he’s right in front of him. Eddie is pulling off his flannel, eyes downcast, and his shirt rides up his stomach a little bit as he reaches up to set the flannel on the bed. Steve’s eyes get stuck there, gazing at the strip of pale skin, at the whisper of dark hair and the tiny bit of visible ink, and then Eddie’s shirt falls again, hiding it. Steve’s eyes fall to Eddie’s lap, to the bulge under his jeans. His face flushes with heat, with want and something he can’t name. 

He swallows when he finally lifts his gaze to meet Eddie’s. Eddie is looking at him, half-smiling, and Steve feels even more bare than he is. He can’t hide the way Eddie is affecting him, not when he’s naked like this. And Eddie’s eyes keep scanning his body, sliding over his spotted skin like he wants to eat it. (Steve would let him probably. Eddie tends to make him feel a little crazy.) His eyes linger on Steve’s lap, and Steve’s cheeks burn with shame. 

Eddie’s smile grows and he moves close. Reaches to touch Steve’s face with a feather-light touch that makes Steve close his eyes, makes him turn his face into Eddie’s hand. But Eddie’s hand doesn’t linger, slipping over his throat teasingly, over his neck, to the back of his head, where it buries itself in Steve’s hair and tightens. Steve’s breath catches in his throat as Eddie pulls gently. Steve’s vision blurs when he opens his eyes, looking at Eddie’s face longingly as Eddie leans closer.

His voice is quiet, dangerous, tender, when he whispers, his breath on Steve’s face. 

“Do I tempt you, Steve Harrington?”

And Steve nods dumbly, eyes stuck on Eddie’s mouth, lips parted. 

“Yes. I…” He shivers when Eddie traces a line over his jaw with his other hand, then a line on his cheek, connecting two moles that Steve knows are there, that he knows Eddie looks at a lot. “I want you.”

Eddie leans closer, and their lips brush, and Steve keens, closing his eyes as he aches with it, with the desire. It’s in his bones, hot and molten, making him melt against Eddie’s body, falling against his chest, and Steve knows his own heart is pounding, but now he knows Eddie’s is too, and he suppresses a smile when their lips brush again. Eddie’s fingers tighten in his hair. It hurts. But Steve just sighs, lifting his head into Eddie’s hand, and the next words that come from his throat are weak and breathy and fucking desperate.

“I need you.”

-----

Steve is from a small town; less than 3,000 people, and he's been lonely all his life. When he leaves for college, his parents warn him against the heathens of the rest of the world, but his eyes find someone interesting, someone his parents would hate, hide from, pray for. And Steve finds that he can't really bring himself to care what they'd think. As his faith fades, so does his loneliness, and something else takes their place.

permanent taglist: @estrellami-1 @theplantscientist <3 (comment to be added to permanent taglist or taglist for this specific fic when i start posting it)

[nafohcnis]

some school notebook dorys from about a month ago probably.. the first two are for the fanfic “john dory’s quick and concise guide on how to survive” by rytheoneandonly on ao3. GO READ IT. and expect more fanart for this.

[scummy-writes]

I will not be leaving tumblr because. There is literally no other good site for posting writing that also promises interaction with others. Stuck here until it crashes and burns, I guess.

[jay-wasstuff]

Fanfic writers on their way to publish the most foul, nastiest, freakiest smut work after Dragon Age Absolution

[navstuffs]

how trilogy!ezio has sex with gn!reader in different phases - (PURE SMUT, MINORS DNI)

assassins creed 2!ezio fucks you hard and fast in dark alleys. he always rushes, pounding into you like he could die tomorrow (he could really), shows up whenever he wants but never leaves you unsatisfied, sometimes making sure you have an orgasm before him. he warns he can't fall in love but always finds his way back for you. assassins creed brotherhood! ezio spends the night. he is a passionate lover and takes his time to ensure you feel cherished and pleased. expect one or two multiple orgasms, he just loves to watch your body tremble over his control, the only sound coming out of your mouth being his name. ezio doesn't leave until he has you completely breathless in his arms, his expression full of worship for your naked form. and he is possessive: he takes his time to mark you as his, making sure you know exactly to whom you belong. lastly, assassins creed revelations!ezio wants intimacy and cuddles. it doesn't mean he won't make love to you as he did when he was younger or even spank your ass as he takes you from behind. no, this ezio wants you to know that he loves you. with every kiss, touch, rub, every small little gesture, he wants you to know and feel how much he adores you. ezio watches you sleep, imagining himself having a normal life as a married man, growing old with you. he has finally found his peace with you.

my ezio masterlist

[ghost-qwq]

Advertising my fic because my boyfriend said I should : "What Am I So Afraid Of?"

 In Vault 101 no one ever enters, and no one ever leaves. Butch DeLoria spent nineteen years stuck with the same people, same food, same damn life in that vault. People in the vault aren’t the best when you’re stuck around them for so long. Especially not the doctor's kid. James Maxwell’s special little “angel”, Cyrus. That dork wasn’t even worth being on Butch’s mind… if that’s the case, how come he thought about him so much?

[just--vi]

HAPPY BIRTHDAY TO MY FIRST (and favorite) FIC

This fic was my first dip back into the fandom after a long long break, and I'm 100% convinced it led me to some of my loveliest friends (and turned into several more fics in the meantime).

Lil snippet under the cut if you'd like a preview.

As luck would have it the beach this time of year is frigidly cold. Tourists line the boardwalks in puffers and trench coats with scarves wrapped around their necks and beanies on their heads – if you squint toward the shops it’s a sea of multi-colored bobbles and the occasional ugly beret.

Remus’ spot isn’t far off from the thick of it. An old folding table with uneven legs that is covered in chipping paint, both old and new. He has wedged half a newspaper under the back right foot of it and is using a collection of heavy rocks to keep the painted postcards from whipping off toward the water. Just the other week he’d lost an entire stack of them because some kid had shouldered by a bit too quickly and knocked the make-shift paperweights to the ground, letting the wind catch the postcards and sending Remus scrambling desperately after them.

By the time he’d trudged back up the hill to the boardwalk the kid and his parents were gone.

As foot traffic begins to thin, Remus drops the paintbrush and stretches out the fingers of his right hand. They crack audibly, and the dull ache begins to seep its way toward his forearm. He offers one long, tired sigh before shoving gloves onto his hands and packing his things away into the rolling crate wedged underneath the low barrier between walkway and beach. Old paintings first, wrapped sensibly in plastic now that they’ve dried, newer ones gingerly on top. Paints go into the worn out bookbag that he slings over his shoulder and he waffles for a moment on the decision to try to take everything in one go, or hope his table doesn’t end up stolen or vandalized (again).

Eventually, because his fingers are beginning to go numb and snot is starting to drip out of his nose, he folds the table and hoists it up against his hip with one arm. It’s not terribly big, a handful of feet long and not quite as wide, but the worse his joints get the harder it is to lug around. He wraps his other hand around the handle of his crate and drags it awkwardly behind him, dodging evening stragglers and one dog wearing a sweater, whose owner offers up a sweet smile and gives him a rather wide berth.

His car is parked a little farther than he’d really like to walk, but he couldn’t justify the paid spots and when he’d come out this morning he’d really been feeling quite good… Now the short hill leaves him a little breathless and wheezy, and by the time he’s popping his trunk (the seats already laid down flat) his skin is prickling under his sweater, suddenly too hot.

It’s not a pretty sight, Remus wrestling the table up toward the trunk, only the snaps on the legs have long since rusted out and they keep popping open, knocking him painfully in the knee and drawing a stream of quiet curses out of his mouth, the trunk claims his elbow next and he is moments away from giving up entirely when the weight of the table shifts just enough to send him a little off balance, before sliding seamlessly into the boot.

Twisting around to offer a (faintly irritated) thanks to his helper, Remus stops dead. Suddenly the heat in his cheeks is less for the short jaunt up the hill or the bite of the wind, all flushing blood that reaches all the way into his ears.

“Err – thanks, bit of a pain to do on your own,” he mumbles, ignoring the fact that the other man seemed to have had no such problem. At the very least the comment earns him a barking laugh, head thrown backward and eyes crinkling at the corners, which makes him blush harder because it really hadn’t been that funny.

“No worries, I couldn’t watch you struggle anymore without feeling like an absolute jackass – hand alright?”

[greypetrel]

I'm not so used in promoting my writing here, but...

For everyone who's been following this AU: it's up. 👀

[cncowitcher]

o cabelo amarrado, a cara de puto cafajeste salafrário implorando por boceta, os anéis pesadamente e como de costume deixando os dedos anelar e médio livres para dedar a reader depois de um encontro, o jeito que ele está segurando o celular, como ele fica bem de azul... enzo vogrincic, tenha piedade de nós meros mortais, por favor.