#het fanfic

[lupines-slash-recs]

Rec: In His Pocket by sdl64533

Title: In His Pocket Author: sdl64533 Canon: The Secret of Moonacre Pairing: Maria Merryweather/Robin de Noir Rating: Teen [PG] Word Count: 5,092 Summary: Set after the end of the film The Secret of Moonacre in filmverse: Robin carries more than just

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[amesliu]

GOODE HIGH - a percy jackson highschool au written by 11 year old me and adapted by 24 year old me

[iheartjameshetfield]

lord forgive me for i am about to sin 🙏🙏

i truly believe that during this specific era, james had the biggest size kink. so big it would drive him feral.

he’s just obsessed with making you seem small just so that he could take care of you in every way possible. he loves how his large hands can cover up almost your entire torso when he’s holding you, fucking into you.

he loves seeing his bulge appear in your stomach. it just makes him fuck you even deeper, wanting to see how big the bulge could get. or the way he rests his elbows on each side of you, trapping you and you try to claw onto him.

whenever you suck him off, he always has to bring his cock to your face, comparing you to him as he wonders how the fuck were you supposed to put all that in your mouth?? he spits over your lips, bringing his hand down to grab your jaw, forcing your mouth open with his thumb, making you suck on it. after he pulls his thumb out, he’d bring his tip, smearing his precum against your lips before motioning for you to open your mouth, tapping his cock on your tongue.

he couldn’t wait anymore, so without any warning, he thrusts himself into your mouth, making you gag. he sees the mark of your lipstick near his base, he lets out a breathy moan. you bring up both of your hands to stroke him, wanting him to feel as good as possible. he loves pulling out paint your face, wanting to make you look as messy as possible with your unruly hair and runny mascara and smeared lipstick. he spreads his cum all over your face, feeding some of it to you.

he remembers the time you wanted to be the one on top for once. you had never tried this position with him yet. he was so gentle, murmuring sweet words of encouragement. you were sat on top of him, knees on each side as you stroke his cock. when you’re ready, he has his hands on your hips, lifting you so he could set you on his dick very slowly. the sight was almost comedic, seeing your eyes pop out as you hiss from the stretch.

“it’s okay, sweet girl, take your time.”

you whine and whimper when you finally take all of him, causing james to groan as he brings his hand to the bulge that appeared in your stomach, rubbing his hand there and around your tummy. you were so tight around him, and he tried his hardest to resist the urge from fucking you at an inhuman pace, but with the way you were clenching around him, he couldn’t take it slow much longer.

he got up from the couch, effortlessly carrying you with him as he cradled you with one arm, and the other rests beside your head against the wall as he fucks mercilessly into you. you cry out, wrapping your arms around his shoulders as you muffle the sounds of your whines into the crook of his neck. it didn’t take long for the both of you to cum. he brings the hand that was resting against the wall and uses it to stroke your hair, mumbling sweet words as he peppers you kisses,

“you did so good for me, princess. i didn’t hurt you, did i?” he coos.

he continues to baby you, setting you on the couch to clean the cum from his thighs and from you. he lays down on the couch next to you, bringing you into his arms as you both fall asleep, his arm wrapping around the entirety of you.

this absolutely sucked i’m sorry but i just needed to get this out of my system.

[distorted59]

HIII! I have a request if you have time, but after seeing what you did for Larsy Poo I need, - in fact, I am on my hands and knees for head cannons for James Het PLEASE 🧎🏻‍♀️

Thank you 😊 MWAH

Hey lovely!!! sorry it took a whole while, I'm finally back home and school and work are biting my ass. but, here it is!!! hope you enjoy! @buzzbuzzbowie also asked for this, thank you both! <3

Okay, so if we’re talking about 80s James, (like ‘81-’87), he’s definitely submissive asf!! he’s just… just… he was so shy and pretty LIKE SHUT UP SFKFSKSFSKJS. (he still is)

He def has mommy issues. So, he craves validation and care. Especially in the beginning, he’s still young and just into fame, could learn a thing or two. Once he gets older, more masculine, angrier and his voice deeper and deeper. He still has that need, it’s an itch no one can really scratch but you.

He was sexually inexperienced, (due to his family’s religions he had to leave health class and all that stuff). so just IMAGINE teaching young Jamie some things!!!! oml i’m melting!!!!! 

“Am I doing okay?” James pants from in between your thighs. He’s looking up at you through his bangs that are sticking to his sweaty forehead. His blue eyes twinkling with eagerness and lust.

“You’re doing great, baby.” You reassure him as you caress his hair lovingly. 

“Hmm, you taste so good.” He moans into your pussy and continues fucking you with his tongue.

Loves it when there’s a emotional connection, normally he’d fuck the shit out of girls/groupies without thinking twice. But, he loves it when he’s taken care of.

Loves the aftercare as well!! Cuddling or showering together, loves it when you wash his hair!

praising kink, mommy kink????? i dunno. I just know his whimpers and begging would be so pretty <3. 

Would get jealous pretty fast, he wants all of your attention on HIM. 

He’s also pretty protective of you, even as friends. Like, just imagine you and the bar hanging out at a bar, early Metallica days, and some guys are bothering you. This man would be prepared to throw hands. (just like he did for Larz, cuz he has a big mouth).

He has a big nose, so you can sit on it. (no headcanon tho, it’s the truth.)

He would call you all needy from his hotel room. (I see black album!James in my head). And i mean you know he’s fucking groupies, you know he is. but, he’s never satisfied, you got your fucking claws in him.

“Come on, pick up…” James mutters into the phone, he’s horny and desperate, only wanting to hear your voice.

“Hello?” Your tired voice rings through his ear.

“H-hey, sweetheart.” James stammers. “How are you? i miss you. Did I wake you?” he rushes through his words not wanting to be rude, but he is just so horny.

“hm, I’m good, baby.” you yawn. “You did wake me, but that’s okay.” 

He stays silent for a bit, he’s slowly stroking himself. Just your voice is enough to make him crazy. You can hear some hitched breaths through the phone and decide to play with him a little.

“What are you doing, baby?” 

“N-nothing, I’m just tired.” he quickens his pace, knowing what you’re doing.

“Do you miss me?” you ask, your hand wandering to your panties.

“Fuck, yes. Of course, baby.” 

“I miss you too, your voice, your touch…” You sigh. “you inside of me.”

“Oh, baby…” James lets out a strangled moan. “I need to feel you wrapped around me, I can’t take it.” 

James starts stroking his cock faster while you already have started playing with your clit. 

“Every night when I come off stage. I just think of you and I can’t….” James groans. “Can’t take it… need you here.” 

“You wanna know what I'd do?” 

“Yeah…”

“I’d ride you silly, until you’d see stars.” you moan.

“Fuck, so i can look at your pretty tits?” James gets closer to cumming.

“That’s right, darlin’.” 

“Are you playing with yourself too?” He asks, his mind is driving him wild. He is so jealous of your fingers right now. 

“Mhm.” you hum.

“Oh fuck, gonna cum, baby.” 

“Cum with me, babe.”

Both of you would cum all over yourself and say loving words to each other before falling asleep <3.

Now, if we’re talking about current James. holy fucking shit. the dilfiest fucking dilf on this fucking earth. 

His hands!!!! his fingers are super fucking skilled, this man can WORK them. stroking your hair, holding your hand, squeezing your thighs, making you suck his fingers while you look up at him innocently, lightly squeezing your throat with his other hand when you stop looking at him, finger-fucking you ‘till you cry… I can go on.

James and his cigars>>>>>>

Just imagine you sitting on his thigh, needy and desperate. He’s wearing some bootcut jeans that fit him perfectly. You’re in some comfortable pj shorts and slowly rubbing yourself on the material of his jeans. He’s really enjoying the view while smoking his cigar and puffing the smoke in your face. 

“What’s wrong, baby?” He places his free hand on your hip, secretly guiding your grinding. 

“Need more…” You whimper. “Please.” 

“Hmm… I don’t think so, baby.” he takes another drag and slowly blows the smoke in your face. “I think you can easily cum like this, can’t you?” 

He grins and holds the cigar close to your mouth, making you take a drag. You slowly inhale while maintaining eye-contact, James groans loudly and grips your hip tighter. You blow the smoke back into his face and try to kiss him. 

He gladly accepts the kiss and you can taste the cigar on his lips. You start grinding faster and moan into his mouth. James keeps guiding you and smirks up at your needy state. 

“Gonna cum all over my jeans, princess?”

He’d spoil you like crazy. You don’t want much, just him. but, he still takes care of you in every single way he can. 

 Feel like he might have a breeding kink, daddy kink and all that. He just wants to fill you all up and claim you. Mark you, show the world and everyone in it you are his. <3

 Imagine car rides with James???? I’d sell my left tit for that. (maybe not). Just a chill ride in one of his muscle cars, or his truck, love me some of that. Some music on low volume, the weather’s nice, the sun's about to set. Yes, just yes. 

Or staying at his house for dinner??? I would fucking love to chill in his backyard and he’s working over at the bbq. I just know this man can cook up a mean steak. 

Damn, now I’m hungry for James AND his cooking. 

[suchawrathfullamb]

My partner saw me making faces at my phone while reading fanfic and was like what is it?? It was the graphic het sex in the Dracula AU. Love that fic but MAN. I was not ready for that, it scarred me. I still think about it to this day.

[iamthecomet]

Dismiss Your Demons

AKA: Kinktober Day 28 - Sounding

Rating: E Pairing: Cirrus/Dew Featuring: Service Dom Cirrus. Soft Dom Cirrus. Sub Dew. He's a tiny bit of a brat if you squint, but not really. He just likes giving Cirrus shit. Sounding. Character development cleverly disguised as porn. Aftercare (in the form of cuddles). Word Count: 3.1k. I did not read through this after I wrote it, so it is what it is, friends. I hope it makes sense. Read it on AO3.

Or under the cut.

Dew can’t think . He’s sweating. It’s pooling low on his back. He twitches his fingers where he has them pinned there. Wishing for something, anything, to flip through his fingers. 

He loves Cirrus. 

But Satanas does she make him nervous.  Especially with this look on her angular face. A crooked smile. Movements too easy, body too loose. He’s well and truly fucked.  That’s what he gets for telling her he needed to get out of his head and she could do anything.   It’s been a long week. A brutal few days on the road that have left all of them snapping at each other. Even Papa has had enough. Bad weather, bus problems, hotel mix-ups, three terrible catering companies in a row. They’ve all had enough.  Dew looks across the hotel room and longs for his bed at home. For dark abbey hallways, and candle light, and the smell of incense. He is sick of fluorescent lighting and white walls and low pile carpet. He digs his toes into it anyway, dissatisfied. 

He watches Cirrus as she flits around the room. Movements loose. More relaxed than she has any right to be given everything that’s been going on. But maybe it isn’t bothering her as much as it is Dew. She comes off as type A for sure. A control freak. But she’s more flexible than he is. Waves off problems and stupid tour bullshit with a shrug as if to say “oh well it happened, let’s move on.” 

She’s always reminded him of Aether in that way. Certainly the person they look for leadership, but because of their flexibility rather than the rigidness of someone like Dew who needs things to be right or he will feel like his skin is too small. 

That’s how he feels right now, watching Cirrus bounce around the room. Feeling like he’s just put his life in her hands. He takes a deep, breathe out. Frowns when his exhale comes out a little smokey. Tinged with anxiety. Cirrus notice, dark brows furrowing. She frowns a little at him–worried. 

“We won’t do anything you won’t like,” she reassures him. She fusses with her hair. Scrubbing her manicured nails over the shaved side. Her fingernails are electric blue, blunt like always. No deadly manicures like Aurora or Cumulus. No stiletto nails dragging over the head of his dick tonight. As pretty as that is–he’s ok with it. 

“You said something new,” he says. Allows himself this moment of vulnerability. Cirrus tilts her head at him. 

“You really are stuck aren’t you?” 

Dew grimaces. He hates it sometimes. The way she reads him like a book–all of them. So much like Aether. That’s probably why he pulled her aside after the show instead of someone else. Seeking a grounding touch someone to pull him back to earth without him really having to ask for it. 

“I want to go home,” he says. It sounds stupid. He shrugs. Doesn’t move, back straight, fingers still twitching behind his back. Knuckles flexing over the soft cotton of his t-shirt. 

“I can’t help you with that.” Cirrus sits on edge of the bed, pets the spot next to her. Dew drops down next to her. He presses his elbows into his thighs, he digs his fingers into his scalp until it hurts. Cirrus pulls him apart, uncurls him. Cool fingers unclenching his from his hair. She leans in, bumps her horns against his. 

“Enough of that,” she chides. “Aether will kill me if you come home bald.” 

Dew’s lips twitch upward. “Should shave it. Just to spite him. Punishment for abandoning us.” 

Cirrus ruffles his hair. “Don’t even think about it, firefly.” 

She presses her forehead against his. He breathes in deep, inhaling the fresh cotton smell of her. Cool and clean. He closes his eyes, nuzzles his face against her, horns bumping together. 

“Take care of me,” he says, finally. “Please.” 

“You’ll let me try something new?” 

He nods. “Anything.” 

Cirrus stands. Dew feels her vacancy in his bones. He turns his head, opens his eyes to watch her riffling through her bag. She produces a small leather case. She starts to unzip it and Dew feels his mouth go dry already. 

Not so new then. 

“Cir, that’s not–I’ve–”

Her eyes flash, so light blue they’re almost white. She grins at him, too many fangs. A chill rolls up his spine, and he swallows the rest of his words. 

“I know you’ve done this before. I’ve heard all about what you do when you’re alone with a fire.” 

Dew groans, he rolls his eyes. Tipping back onto the bed dramatically. Hair fanning out around his head. “Fucking Swiss .” “Why don’t you ever ask me to come see?” 

Dew flushes, he can’t help it. He covers his face to hide it. “You don’t usually like to just watch.” 

Dew hears the zipper on the case. The clink of metal. He shudders. Chubbing up in his jeans already. Anticipation thruming through him from sound alone. He has the vague realization that he is like a trained dog. Conditioned into arousal by the idea of sounding rods. 

“I could be compelled. Especially since you stole a rod from me to do it. I’m still missing it, by the way.” 

“Sorry.” 

Cirrus kicks one of his feet where it’s planted on the shitty carpet. Knocking his legs a little further apart so she can step between them. He feels the swell of her thighs between his. He moves his arm, looks up at her, towering over him, flipping one glinting rod through her fingers. 

“You’re not. Don’t lie.” 

Dew sits up. Reaches for her. She allows it. Allows him to put his hands on her waist, the curve of it. To slip his warm hands under her over-sized t-shirt and touch her ever-cool skin. 

“I’ll give it back when we get home.” 

Cirrus rolls her eyes instead of calling his bluff. “Strip.” 

“Don’t I get a kiss first?” 

“Brat,” she admonishes, but bends down and kiss him anyway. Full lips pressed against his. Cool. She tastes like red wine, black raspberries. He chases in, tongue sliding over hers. Taking one hand from her waist to lace in the longer side of her hair. Fingers carding through impossibly soft strands. 

She pulls back and Dew chases her lips. His cock twitches against his thigh, more than chubby now. He reaches down to adjust, gives himself a small squeeze just before Cirrus bats his hand away. 

“I asked you to do something, Firefly.” 

Dew hauls his shirt over his head, tosses it somewhere and gets to work on his belt. He shoves his and boxers down in one motion and kicks them away.

Cirrus sinks down, kneeling between his spread legs, a bottle of lube and the set of sounding rods between her knees. 

She’s right this is new. Cirrus doesn’t kneel for him. Only has ever bottomed for him when she’s been in heat. The look she gives him–cast up through long eyelashes–goes right to his dick. His stomach flips. She smooths a cool hand up over his thigh. 

“Don’t get any ideas,” she says softly. Running a blunt nail down the seam of his balls. He twitches. Digs his teeth into his cheek.  

“Never,” Dew gasps out with a shake of his head. He knows, even on her knees, Cirrus is in charge.  She’s just so pretty like this, gorgeous. Sitting low, legs tucked under her ass. Shoulders pressed between Dew’s knees. 

He slips a hand up his stomach to tug at a nipple ring as she drags her palm over the hard line of his cock. Soft hands feather light over his skin. He groans, as she palms at him, one hand after another over the underside of his cock where it curves up toward his stomatch. Not circling, more petting than anything. Just enough pressure to brush the wet tip over his sparse happy trail. 

“Lay back,” she says. The words are soft but there is no mistaking them for anything but an order.  “Let me help.” 

Dew does. Falling back onto the bed like dead weight. Toes digging into the carpet as Cirrus pets him. She polishes the head, smears precum over the ruddy head. Dew digs his fangs into his lip until he tastes copper. 

“ Relax ” she orders again. “Let go.” 

It takes effort to loosen his jaw. To allow himself to groan as one of her hands dips lower to roll his balls between her deft fingers. He melts into the bed as she touches him. Works him up with slow easy movements. Cock twitching under her hands. Spitting precum onto her hands, his belly.

He winces when he whimpers, high and reedy. He hates it, but it’s gone now, already out of his mouth. It takes a minute, but eventually he feels the tension in his head start to unravel. Feels knots loosen. He stops hearing himself. Stops worrying about how desperate he sounds. How needy. How Rain can probably hear him from the next room over. 

Instead, he hopes Rain has his ear pressed to the wall to listen. Embarrassment fading with the rest of the day–the week. 

“Good boy,” Cirrus purrs. Dew’s floating by the time he hears her open the lube bottle. Disant. Brought down by gentle hands instead of harsh words. That’s new too. He’s hazy, glassy. Every stupid annoyance is distant, he can’t even think about them. Can’t think about anything except how Cirrus touches him. 

How her hands–too soft for all of the music she plays–feel on him. He would do anything for her to have her keep touching him like that.  

“Ready?” she purrs.  Dew nods. He slurs around a yes , and a please . Hips twitching up toward her hands. His eyes are closed tight. An arm thrown over his eyes, blush burning against his forearm. With the other hand he plucks at his nipples. Tugs on the bar. Rolls the pebbled nub through his fingers. A  little rough, the little bite of pain just adding to everything. 

Cirrus starts with the smallest rod. Dew jolts when the cold metal touches his slit, presses down. More newness. When he plays with himself the metal is always warm, burning hot usually. The cold in contrast to his own body temperature makes stars dance behind his eyes. 

Cirrus is uncharacteristically gentle with him. He’s more intune to it this way–expecting a shift. For her to start fucking the sounding rod into him with abandon. But instead she works it in slowly. She leaves it deep, opting to press her fingers along the underside of his cock instead. More petting strokes, rolling the rod inside of him. 

It only takes him two more minutes to need more . A bigger rod. For her to actually stroke him. For her to thrust that ice cold metal in and out of his body. To really give him something. But he should have known that Cirrus’ gentleness would be his downfall. 

They follow the same pattern. It’s all so slow, so easy. Dew’s hips flex up toward every touch. Whines bubbling out of his throat at every twitch. Cirrus coos at him, shushes him when he really starts to whine, to beg.  She kisses the inside of his thigh. His hip bones. Drags her free hand up over his legs his belly. “Give me a color, baby.” 

“Green. Just. More . I need more .” 

“But you’re doing so good.” 

Dew digs his claws into the comforter. He could scream. Pleasure burns low in his gut. A fire he doesn’t know how to feed, not enough kindling. Just enough fuel to flicker to life, but not enough to rage. Everything is sharp, intense. He shudders with it. Nerve alight. 

Dew props himself up on his elbow, dragging his arm away from his face, opening his eyes. The room is too bright. Cirrus is looking up at him from between his legs smirk still firmly in place. 

She’s up to the second largest rod now. Dew can see the way it bulges the underside of his cock. Cirrus runs a nail over it. Fingers catching on the piercing just below the head. Swiping over his frenulum with her thumb. He sobs at the sudden jolt of pleasure. Gasping in, breath catching. 

“Hey, firefly,” Cirrus says softly. She reaches up along the length of his body, sitting up on her knees to brush her fingers over his flushed cheeks, over his throat, his pounding pulse. “How do you feel?” 

“Like I want to cum.” 

“Not what I meant.” 

Dew sighs, whimpering as Cirrus twists the sounding rod. “Floaty. Fuck . Better. Please, Cir. At least let me see you. Give me something. ”

“Don’t be greedy,” Cirrus admonishes. “I’ve given you plenty.” Despite the words she leans back, pulls her hands away just long enough to pull her shirt over her head. Dew’s throat clicks when he swallows. Eyes dragging over her tits, her stomach. The curve of her waist. He wants to touch. Wants to lay back as she rides his face. Wants her to take everything from him. 

Cirrus scoffs at the look on his face. “You’re so easy.” 

Dew nods dumbly. Of course he is. Weak, always, to the power of Cirrus’ tits. 

“Make me cum?” he means for it to come out as a demand, but instead it’s a question. Breathless. 

Cirrus cocks a dark eyebrow. She lowers herself back, sitting on her heels. Her tits brushing his thighs as she goes, one dusky nipple dragging over his thigh. Dew wants to latch onto it with his mouth. Wants to suck it swollen. 

He licks his lips, tries not to stare too much and fails. 

“I’ll do anything.” 

Cirrus’ eyebrow stays up, her head tips. She pets his cock again, watching as it twitches and spits precum onto his stomach. There’s a puddle of it there now, slick and shiny. The head of his dick is swollen, nearly purple. Cirrus bends down, and swipes her tongue up along the underside, pressing down hard on the rod as she goes. 

Dew bucks up toward her mouth. Swears he’s going to burst into flames if she keeps going. If she doesn’t just–Cirrus smirks at him and sucks the head into his mouth. Tongue pressing down on the top of the rod to keep it in place. 

He’s going to die. This is it. Death by sounding in a shitty hotel in the middle of nowhere USA. He’s fucked, utterly fucked. He falls back onto the bed, unable to hold himself up anymore. 

Cirrus pulls off with a pop. “Anything?” 

“Fuck– fuck– yes. Anything. Satanas whatever you want just fucking touch it. Make it cum. I can’t– fuck .” 

Cirrus’s hand finally curls around the base of him. The other pulls at the sounding rod. Fucking it into him. She times her strokes with it, a counter rhythm that has him seeing stars.  “Promise me.” 

“I promise. ”  Cirrus licks a stripe over his hip bone. Sucks a mark into the hollow there as she strokes him. Teeth digging in and making him gasp. Dew’s distantly aware of the sound he’s making. High pitched, whining. Desperate. If Rain wasn’t listening at the wall before he definitely is now. He bucks toward Cirrus’ hand, toes curling in the carpet. 

“ Close .” 

“Then cum,” Cirrus whispers against his hip. “Let it out. Let me see how messy you get.” 

His balls draw up tight, he sobs as it hits him. Pleasure burning through his veins. His back arches as he cums. Cirrus pulls the sounding rod in just in time for the first spurt to hit Dew’s stomach. It dribbles down Cirrus fingers, into his pubic hair. Dew closes his eyes so tight he sees red. It feels like it goes on forever. Body still twitching long after he stops shooting. Cirrus strokes him through it, doesn’t stop until she’s squeezed every drop she can from him. 

Dew waits for Cirrus to pounce on him. To force him into overstimulation. To straddle his face. She doesn’t. Instead, she wipes him up with her t-shirt, apologizing softly as he hisses in overstimulation. Then she pokes and prods him until he shifts. Muscles like jelly. He pulls himself fully onto the bed, finally laying in in properly. Cirrus settles in next to him, pulling him down to her. Curling an arm around him and pressing his head to her chest. Cheek pillowed by soft plush flesh as she pets the side of his head. He listens to her heart as he comes back down. Steady, solid. He clings to her. Fingers dimpling into her waist. 

“Give me a minute and I can–whatever you want.” 

“I’m fine, Dew.” She kisses him between the horns. 

“Not fair,” he says sleepily. “You should get off too.” 

She shrugs beneath him. “You know how it is for me. It’s not that easy. Watching you is just as good, you know that. Do you feel better? Quieter?” 

Dew nods. Yawns, nuzzles into her breast. He presses open mouthed kisses across the freckled skin there. Lazy. Appreciative. “Yeah. Thank you, you’re too good to me.” 

“No, I’m not. You don’t have to carry so much on your shoulders, Dew. You can let other people hold it sometimes.” 

He shrugs. “Dunno how.” 

He feels her smile against his hair, she kisses him again, at the base of his horn this time. She settles in, breath huffing out over his slap as she cradles him. He feels her relax beneath him, heart slowing, breathing going even. Comfortable beneath his warmth, his weight. Dew feels sleep tugging at him. He cracks his eyes open to stave it off for just a few more minutes. 

“What do you want then? Something, obviously,,” Dew mumbles sleepily. Cirrus chuckles, still stroking her fingers through his hair, working through tangles. When he tips his head to look up at her, he finds her eyes closed, face open and relaxed. 

“Next time you sound yourself, I want you to call me so I can come watch.” 

Dew blinks at her, head tipping to the side in confusion. “That’s it?” 

Cirrus laughs, she cracks an eye open, lips twisting up into that same mischievous smirk from before.  “Is it ever?” 

Dew pulls his gaze away from her face and puts his head back where it belongs. He sucks her nipple into his mouth, teeth dragging over it as it hardens against his tongue. Soothing more than sexual. He doesn’t answer. They both know there’s more. And Dew could ask for a clue–but he likes it better when Cirrus surprises him. 

[30-3am]

chapter four of barefoot should be out soon!!

[w0niecult]

taking this pic with yours and death magnetic era!james’s baby :(

— mini me ☆彡

soft baby coos fill the room as you both gaze down at your sweet daughter.

Her chubby little fingers peeking out from her blanket, sleepy eyes threatening to fall shut at any moment now.

“She’s incredible,” he whispers.

He leans down to pepper her face with tiny kisses, your little girl rewarding him with an adorable gummy smile.

“She looks like you,” you hum, looking up at him with nothing but love in your eyes.

“Are you kidding? she’s your little mini-me!” James laughs.

Your daughter let out a loud huff, seemingly offended by her dad’s remarks.

“Oh well, excuse me, little lady,” you retaliate playfully.

“See? She has your sass, 100% you right there,” he adds.

You lovingly caress her little hand with your finger, softly gasping when she grabs it with her impressive baby strength.

“James, James, go take a picture, quick!” You whisper.

james pulls his phone out, his hand holding her smaller one, and snaps a quick photo of the adorable scene in front of him.

he moves towards you and softly kisses your forehead, “thank you for giving me our beautiful daughter.”

[incorrectsibunaquotes]

We don’t talk enough about how love potions are canon in the Anubisverse

[haircuttherapy]

"I'm trans by the way."

Finn glanced over at Huntress Wizard. She kept her gaze forward, the light from BMO's screen reflected in her eyes. 

"Oh." Finn eloquently replied, fumbling his controller for a moment before refocusing on his own character. He'd gotten hit while he was distracted, and was down to two hearts. "That's— that's cool."

The only sound for the next few minutes was the clack of their controllers and the 10 second loop of music BMO had manufactured for the game they were playing. Finn's character got hit again.

"Dude, you're sucking." Huntress Wizard informed him. 

"I know, sorry." Finn tightened his grip on the controller, and tried to refocus on the game. But he couldn't help himself. "What's trans mean?"

Now Huntress Wizard took a moment before responding. "It means I have a penis."

Finn spluttered, and his controller fell out of his hands completely. His character was hit, and the screen blacked out, reading GAME OVER in bold text.

"Dude." Huntress Wizard sighed, dropping her controller and leaning back. 

BMO's face popped back on their screen. "Would you like to play again?" They asked cheerfully.

"Nah, I feel like this is gonna be a whole thing," Huntress Wizard told BMO. "Could we get some privacy?"

"Oh, of course!" BMO jumped up, running up to the pairs knees to grab their controllers. "Thanks for playing! Good luck with your penis, Huntress Wizard!"

"... Thanks," Huntress Wizard replied haltingly. BMO, meanwhile, happily trotted out of the room with their controllers bundled into their little arms, beaming.

Finn's face was beet red. "W-what the flip, HW?" He gestured vaugely with his hands. "What prompted this??"

"I dunno," Huntress Wizard pulled her knees closer, cloak shifting around her shoulders. "Just thought it'd be something you'd like to know. Cus, y'know." She shrugged, looking away.

Finn's mouth formed several different words, but it took a few tries before anything came out. "I- I don't??" He raised his arms above his head, gesturing vaugely. "Like, I'm sorry if I'm being weird about this, but— was this always a thing?? Did you get cursed by like, a Dick Wizard, or like…"

Huntress Wizard sighed, crossing her arms over her bent knees and resting her chin on her arms. "Nah man, I was just like… born this way, or whatever. I dunno how to explain it good."

Finn dropped his arms, finally seeming to pick up on his friend's posture. "...So, were you ever like… Hunter Wizard?"

Immedietly, Huntress Wizard's face screwed up. "Don't ever call me that," she hissed in a sudden flash of anger.

Finn threw up his hands in surrender. "Sorry! I'm no calling you that, I'm just… I'm just trying to make sense of this," he scooted a bit closer.

"Don't." Huntress Wizard advised. "I already told you everything you gotta know, there's nothing to figure out. Just be cool, man."

Finn nodded. "Yeah, I can be cool." He hesitated, slowly raising his arm and awkwardly patting Huntress Wizard on the shoulder. "Sorry for being weird."

Finn's eyebrows were drawn together, his face still slightly flushed. "HW, how in Glob could I have possibly guessed that?"

Huntress Wizard sighed, finally uncovering herself and leaning back on her palms. "Nah, I'm the one who who's being weird. I shouldn't have jumped you with that info. I just…" her face screwed up for a moment. Finn resituated himself, crossing his legs and resting his head in his hands as he listened. "I dunno, we've been hanging out more. And we've been like, making out and stuff. And if that's a deal breaker for you, I get it." She avoided Finn's eyes, feigning nonchalance. "So I just wanted to make sure you knew, if you hadn't already picked up on it."

Huntress Wizard finally looked back at him, an eyebrow raised in disbelief. "Uh, my voice, for one." She spoke like it was obvious. 

"How could I tell what's in your pants by your voice?"

"It's all deep, and… husky." Huntress Wizard cleared her throat, leaning forward again to hold her hands out. "And my hands are all big. And my hips are small. And I have antlers."

Finn slowly reached out, covering her hands with his own. "Huntress Wizard," he spoke slowly, deliberately. "I've literally never thought about any of those things in my life."

"Well then you're dumb." She replied without missing a beat. "... but sweet." She added after a moment.

Finn smiled, wide and dumb, and Huntress Wizard couldn't help but lean forward to kiss him. He returned the kiss, but she broke it off early.

"So…" she prompted.

Finn, blushing and slightly dazed, blinked. "Sooo…" he echoed.

"Dude, I have a fuckin penis," Huntress Wizard threw her arms out suddenly, exasperated, sending a few leaves from her head fluttering away. "Does that bother you or what?"

"Oh!" Finn sat back. "Uhh…" he pursed his lips, thinking. 

"It's fine if it does. Really." Huntress Wizard interjected when he'd been quiet for a little too long. "Like, I'll get it. I shoulda said something earlier, probably, but like… it's a hard thing to bring up organically."

"... So why now?" Finn asked.

Huntress Wizard blew a raspberry as she exhaled, slumping. "Like I said, we're like. Making out more, and stuff. And I thought like… if we keep going, then like… it'd come up sooner or later."

"... Was that meant to be a pun?" Finn asked, genuinely confused. 

Huntress Wizard socked him in the arm.

"Sorry." She apologized while Finn was still cringing, rubbing his bicep. "That wasn't actually that bad of a pun. It's just a reflex I have."

"Nah, it's fair." Finn said, though he kept his distance. "I've gotten worse."

They lapsed into silence.

"... I should probably go, huh." Huntress Wizard looked down. "I feel like I've donked this all up."

"No no, nothing's donked!" Finn quickly tried to sooth. "I'm sorry, I'm still just… thinking about this." He admitted. "It's… I've never thought about…" his face reddened again, and he shook his head.

"It's cool." Huntress Wizard assured him. "You don't have to answer right now. Like, it'll ruin my whole day and I'll be thinking about this nonstop until I hear your answer, but it's cool, ya know, take your time." She cleared her throat. "That's, uh. All real by the way. I'm being genuine. I know it's hard to tell sometimes, because of the way I speak."

Finn laughed breathily, and Huntress Wizard's heart jumped in her chest. "I like the way you speak." He smiled. "I like your voice, and your hands, and your antlers. I think they're all… well, they're you. And I like you."

Huntress Wizard could hardly breath. "I'm in love with you."

"What?"

She stood up suddenly. "I'm leaving." Huntress Wizard strode out of Finn's room in several long strides. "Call me or whatever."

"Oh, o-okay!" Finn spluttered. "Thanks for coming over!"

Huntress Wizard was already gone, walking with long strides back to her forest home to shove her head into a pile of leaves and scream.

[an-established-butt-dent]

To sleep, to dream, to forget

AO3

Author: DazeChroma (that is me)

Cover art: an-established-butt-dent (also me)

Fandom: Dragon Age, Pairing: Solas x Lavellan, Words: 4,841, Tags: Post Trespasser, Angst, Lavellan deals with the emotional aftermath.

Notes: see end for notes!

There are a million ways to say goodbye, but they have yet to learn of a way that is final. After the Crossroads, Allana leaves everything behind and travels. She is alone, but for a wolf that keeps visiting her dreams.

To sleep, to dream, to forget

Lavellan knew the wolf haunting her dreams.

Perhaps she should fear the shadow lurking on the edge of her peripheral vision, but this was the Fade and she was in control of her dreams. She wore an enchanted amulet, beautiful, with the added benefit of preventing others from intruding on her dreamscape. A parting gift from Dorian.

Even one as skilled and powerful as the Dreadwolf would not be able to reach her, unless she let him.

But that was precisely it. She would never admit it out loud, but somehow had yet to force his presence away. To banish him from her subconscious. Instead, she had left a window open at a crack. 

Maybe it was confusion after their confrontation in the Crossroads. Maybe it was her anger, demanding more explanations from him.

Maybe she missed him.

Solas.

Mentally she scolded herself. She shouldn't use that name. The quiet apostate she had come to know, come to love, was not the same man planning the downfall of the world. Her heart was broken and Solas was dead, as much as he could be for having never truly existed.

But the Dreadwolf, Fen'harel, lived.

Ancient trickster god indeed.

Sometimes she tried to think of the elf from her memories as someone different altogether. A quiet mage lost in dreams who perhaps had planned to return to her. To explain why he left without goodbye after Corypheus' defeat. To bring reason to the many questions left unanswered and wounds left unmended. 

The Solas in this imagined life might have helped her shed the Inquisitor’s cloak. Might have held her in comfort throughout the emotional aftermath. 

Somehow it made the feeling of betrayal slightly easier to bear.

'-What we had was real'

The words left a bitter taste in her mouth still. 

Perhaps it had all been real to him. But to her it was an illusion.  

The wolf in sheeps’ clothing had not been the lover in her arms. The Dread Wolf had not been her companion, her advisor, mentor, friend, Vhenan- 

Denial was not a good look on her, but it gave her peace and quiet. 

And this chasm in her chest, this aching void pumping blood through numb limbs… It propelled her  forward. Yet, she felt devoid of the passion and perseverance that moved her before. 

Well.

You can't break what's already broken. Can't lose what you don't have.

-

After the Inquisition disbanded, she had felt lost. Alone.

She needed time to process everything: the loss of her arm, the long years fighting to end Corypheus and then building the world back up again only to be followed by the upheaval of the exalted council, the pain in her chest. Again there was a moment where the world spun on its axis, throwing everything she knew off-balance. Again.

She had come undone, the only thing keeping her together was the feeling of Revas’ long strides over the open plains. 

Only a Dalish would pick that name for a hart, but he earned his name, spirited and wild as he was before he accepted Allana as his rider. He was her only companion.

Her eyes scanned the horizon, but there was no silhouette following her. No shadow in the waking world.

She stayed clear of civilization, only stopping for provisions. She kept to herself, used her voice so little she almost forgot what it sounded like. 

She traveled for weeks like this, a strong pace forward. Needing to get away. Always away. Every moment spent in one place too long and her chest would constrict, a panic building that could only be relieved by the comfort of changing landscapes.

'You lied to me!'

She wanted to escape. To forget. 

She wanted to be wild like her hart. Wanted to be free.

Revas: her freedom.

Revas, revas, revas!

-

She drifted weightlessly through the fade. Time seemed to stand still as she floated through the pleasant warmth of her early memories.

No terror haunted her. No fear demon pulled threads of horrible memories across her vision. Nothing clawed at her. She was safe.

Only one shadow she could not shake. 

She could admit it, now. When the storms of her doubts and fears had quieted down, and she was not drowning, on the brink of being pulled under-

No.

Not now.

She breathed in, and out. At peace, you're safe, she told herself.

The storm calmed down.

He never truly showed himself at first. But she expected him to know that she could sense him.

It had been him, chasing the despair demons away in the nights before she had Dorian’s amulet. She had seen the flash of teeth and six red eyes prowling on the edge of her peripheral vision. Hungry, angry, but not for her. A lonely howl, a loud screech and a wolf had dragged the dark shadows away until she was alone once again.

The terror had melted away with the echo of the wolf's cry.

Curious spirits were discouraged from approaching her afterwards, and she could finally breathe with relief, knowing to expect a night of rest without waking in cold sweat from nightmares.

She scoffed, wondering what keeper Deshanna would say if she knew the presence of the Dreadwolf gave her some measure of comfort.

She would probably call upon all the ancient gods for guidance. To protect her lonely runaway Da'len from the Dreadwolf’s treachery.

But he has your scent.

And you have his heart.

-

She was almost at the coast now, where she would book passage for a ship to Starkhaven. She planned to cross the waking sea at Jader and travel to Antiva after a short stop in Kirkwall. Other than that she hadn’t decided on her plans for the future.

She had set up camp at a clearing near an old ruin. Then, she took her time to make dinner, enjoying her quiet surroundings and knowing this might be her last night sleeping peacefully under the stars for the coming week.

Revas would surely not be happy on a ship.

She looked regretfully at her hart, wishing there was another way to cross safely, without needing a ship or an Eluvian.

As she only had access to one of those options, her choice was made swiftly.

She climbed into her sleeping roll, twisting and turning until she lay comfortably on her side. Listening to her hart grazing nearby, she drifted off to sleep.

-

He had become bolder after she started wearing the amulet. 

Perhaps he wondered how she had found peace in her dreams? Perhaps her aura, pleasantly free of fear and despair, had pulled him in?

Could he sense the enchantment? Could he see she now had more control over the Fade? 

He had tried to teach her many times, but never had she managed this level of lucidity.

Did he observe curiously what strings she pulled, and which memories she traversed?

She always made sure not to dive into memories of their time as lovers. Those memories were locked away deeply, only to be revealed during waking moments of weakness where she allowed herself the time to wallow in her misery.

A slight change in the air alerted her to his presence.

Soundlessly, a shadow big as a hill moved over the horizon until she made out the shape of four clawed paws slowly treading over the grass-covered plane.

He held his head close to the ground, curiously following the invisible line of energy that lingered in her wake. Tracing her scent which was as recognizable and personal as a fingerprint in the land of dreams. Wisps of black smoke trailed his fur, distorting the landscape.

Sensing her, he slowly lifted his massive head as six red glowing eyes fixed themselves on her.

His name was on the tip of her tongue. She quickly swallowed it down, her throat suddenly dry. This was the first time he didn’t disappear as soon as they made eye contact. She was rooted on the spot, not moving an inch, afraid that any change would break the spell. The sudden wave of longing that washed over her came as a surprise. The sharp ache that quickly followed didn’t. 

Then there was anger.

He took one more step towards her and tilted his head to the side, giving the impression of being unsure if he was looking at threat or prey.

Hoping she was neither, she stood still. She could feel her heart beating in her throat, uncomfortably aware of the tension building in the air. It was like the climate changed and became hotter, the air sticky and suffocating, shaped by the emotions of her inner turmoil.

He took a step toward her, and then she felt the Fade shift.

It was her own doing.

Suddenly she was alone again, overlooking the same mountains where Skyhold stood proudly in the distance. Her home.

She felt relieved that she could breathe again. The air was lighter, the sky brighter, although everything in the fade had a disorienting, ghostlike quality to it. Colors were more intense and subdued at the same time, clouded by a mist you could see only when you focused on it intensely.

Her racing pulse calmed down as she kept her attention on the familiar mountains. Two falcons slowly circled the sky, its colors giving the impression of a setting sun.

‘He is only a stranger. A stranger you once knew’, she told herself over and over.

Yet, he did not scare her. At least not for the reasons one should be afraid of a massive ghostly wolf-shadow trailing their subconscious.

Perhaps she should have confided in Lelliana, Cullen or Josephine about his presence in her dreams. But the Inquisition was no more, so sharing these developments felt... too personal, too intimate. She didn't want to think about it. Nor, for that matter, did she want anyone else to.

The Dreadwolf has your scent.

Why was he still keeping his tabs on her, even after their goodbyes? 

'I will never forget you.' 

No of course not, idiot, if he kept following her like this! 

She could feel her anger shaping the Fade around her, the soft, wispy clouds and sharp mountain peaks crumbling. She was taken to a place darker. Deep down, deep roads, stone, damp air, echoes of fighting. A darkspawns’ screech bounced around on the slick walls of the chasm. Still far in the distance but growing louder with each panicked breath she took. The high pitch surrounded her. Darkness enveloped her like a suffocating blanket. The screams of the dead in her memories ringing like white noise in her ear, drowning out her thoughts except; ’Can’t breath!’.

Panicked, she started to run.

Feet thump, thump, thumping on the slippery stones. The echoes grew louder, a horde of demon’s awakened by the steady rhythm of her long strides. She was a hunter being hunted. The echoes of the past not brought forth by demon’s of anger or fear, but by her own traumatized subconscious. Looking for a way out.

Abruptly she skipped to a halt. Reaching for the amulet. 

There were no demons. They can’t reach her. 

All of a sudden she could hear a voice breaking through the clouds of her panic.

“Allana, breathe like we practiced, you are in control.” a strange voice resonated from the walls, seeming to come from all sides at once and yet far away. A voice she could recognize everywhere.

The revelation shocked her, but grounded her mind. The demons were drawing near. Memories, which could do no more physical harm unless she let them. Remembering what part would come next she needed to end it here. Right now.

She closed her eyes, taking a breath. 

In through the nose-

-one, two, three, four. 

Hold for five seconds, let go for six.

She opened her eyes and was again back looking at the sharp outlines of the Frostback Mountains.

The image shifted and the air smelled of spring. Warmth.

Soft winds blowing across open planes. A body of water flowing like a silver snake across the landscape, casting crystallized reflections on billowing trees. A group white halla taking off, startled by her sudden appearance. She watched them for a moment as they darted across the grass in a dance; a playful homage to freedom. They slowly disappeared along the soft edges of her dream, carrying memories of her life with the Dalish. Of an old home, and a life before the world was ending.

Safe.

On the horizon she could just see the tilt of the head of a wolf, watching from afar. Waiting.

She remembered the voice.

She could not suppress the shiver running along her spine. She wondered what would happen if she called out to him. 

She never did.

-

She missed her friends. 

Somehow her shadow in the Fade made her feel more lonesome. 

It almost became a routine. Push and pull. Following and being followed. It was like a game. She realized with some humor the parallel between their dynamic during the early inquisition years and now. Some things never change.

She would like to talk about her confusing feelings with someone that would understand. But who would? Who could sympathize with a woman, the herald, falling for the affections of the enemy in disguise?

When would she be strong enough to break the chains of their entanglement?

Did she not deserve some peace and quiet? To find out who she was without the responsibilities and expectations resting on her shoulders? 

But her work was not over.

She had considered stepping away, and letting things unfold without interfering. But she couldn’t. Tired as she was, she didn't know how not to be Inquisitor Lavellan. 

All she needed now was a plan. 

How to stop your ex-lover from destroying the world? Your ex-lover, who was, by the way, also an ancient Elvhen God and probably the most powerful Mage to walk the planet?

That did not sound impossible at all.

Damn, she really just kept handing out new book ideas to Varric, didn't she? 

-

Whenever the desire to reach out came up, she swallowed it down.

She didn’t want comforting words from her friends, nor their pitied looks and gentle skirting around certain subjects. 

'Are you sure you're alright? If you need anyone to talk to...'

After the Exalted Council she had turned down all invitations to her friends’ new lives for the time being. She promised to visit once she was ready, and that was enough for them to accept her evasion. For now.

Except Dorian was not having any of it.

He had cornered her the day before she was scheduled to leave. She hadn't wanted a goodbye but he had convinced her he was planning no such thing. 

"Only a present for my dearest friend. Looking as glum as you do I would almost fear sadness is contagious," he had said with a pout.

She had fixed him with a glare, but there had been no true malice behind it. Dorian was perhaps the only one not treating her as if she was made from glass. She appreciated that about him.

"You know a present is not going to convince me to join you in Tevinter, darling dearest," she patted his cheek patronizingly, batting her eyelashes for extra effect.

"Of course not! I wouldn't dare to manipulate you with something so banal as a gift. Who do you think I am? I would at least try to seduce you with my good looks first." He gave her an exaggerated wink and she couldn't stop something that almost resembled an honest smile. She raised her eyebrows at his flirtations. He was laying it on a little bit thick, even for Dorian's standards.

Perhaps humor was the only thing guarding the show of real concern from his face.

"Without further ado, then. Come on, hands out." 

He revealed a small package wrapped in cloth and tied closed with a string of leather.

She hesitantly held out her hand as Dorian sandwiched it between his own, the package a comforting shape in the palm of her hand.

She stared at their joined hands for a moment, swallowing whatever words she would have used to deflect his show of care.

He squeezed her hand once and let go.

"It's not going to unwrap itself, Allana."

She sighed, glad that his sarcasm broke through the tender moment. He knew she appreciated his friendship. She is also aware he's worried about her, like they all are. She was just bad at accepting any kind of support, afraid that leveling the slightest bit of weight from her shoulders would cause it all to come crashing down, burying her fully. 

She needed to be Inquisitor for only one day longer, to keep up the pretense of strength and composure. She could deal with whatever might come crashing down after she left. But not now. Not yet.

"Yes, yes," she huffed at his impatience. Maker, give a girl a moment to compose herself!

She unwrapped the bundle and found an amulet, the telltale pulse of enchantment around it. She looked up at him, waiting for the explanation that would no doubt come.

"This will give us an opportunity to communicate directly, no matter how far away you are. I know you will be miserable without my voice pestering you over the coming months," He pulled out a similar-looking amulet from under his collar and tucked it back, giving her a gentle smile. 

She blinked at the wetness threatening to spill over.

He grasped her shoulders and gently pulled her into a hug. She was glad for the excuse to avert her eyes.

Dorian never mentioned her not-so-subtle lack of grip on her emotions. He knew when she needed the space.

He continued, "It also helps you block out unwanted attention in the fade. No terror demons will find you when you sleep at night and no other spirit will be able to communicate if you don't wish for it. It keeps you bound to your own head, in a sense." She was not sure how Dorian knew about the kind of attention she’s received in the fade, but she’s touched nonetheless. 

"Thank you, Dorian," Ellana mumbles into the fabric of his tunic. "Don't expect me to talk every day though."

"No need, darling. It just makes me happy to know you ignoring me is a conscious choice, and doesn’t mean you are lying in a ditch somewhere."

She snorts, a very undignified sound. "After all I've been through, that ditch doesn't know what's coming for them."

"As long as that fighter spirit never leaves you, my friend," She chuckles wordlessly into his shoulder. She doesn't feel much like a fighter at the moment, although her rogue skills are a second instinct. 

She is tired. But she’s looking for something more comfortable than a ditch just yet.

"Thank you, Dorian."

"Don't get all emotional on me, darling."

She will miss him, but she has to go.

-

The nightmares that had plagued her for weeks vanished after she started to wear the amulet. It was truly Dorian to know the source of the bags under her eyes without her needing to say a word. 

'Bad night?' was all he had to ask, and the look she gave him was enough to know.

Years ago, about a month after he had joined the Inquisition, it had only taken one evening of getting drunk together in a cozy corner of the library to share all the secrets that haunted them at night. While the candles burned low, she learned how their experience of the future at Redcliffe had left a deep impression on them both. The red, terrible future of Corypheus’ would-be victory. Thankfully it was not a future she would have to experience again. That was at least one thing she got right.

He was her closest friend after that evening, their shared pain forming a bond like no other. Ha! Who would have thought. A Tevinter Magister and a Dalish elf? Well, she was never fond of living an ordinary life anyway. It takes one to know one.

The only thing haunting her now was a nightmare of her own creation. Made of pain, self loathing and longing, twisting uncomfortably in the hollow of her chest.

That is one thing the amulet will not help her with: the ghost of a broken heart.

She had yet to find a way to live with it, but time heals all wounds. Or so they say.

But then, why, after revealing his plans, did he tell her that he would like to be proven wrong once again? Why taunt her into resuming their game of evade and catch?

Except if you're called Fen'Harel. Too pridefull to accept your failure, somehow incapable of letting go of your evil plans to restore the glory of the ancient Elvhes and simultaneously doom the lives of all other living beings and the world as we know it.

Damn it all and damn his insufferable pride.

For someone refusing to call himself a god, he sure does like to play with the faiths of mortals.

And why did she believe the sincerity in his eyes when he said it? The pain in the tilt of his brow and the clench of his jaw, the way his voice broke when he said goodbye?

He had called her Vhenan, and walked away. Did she imagine the tremble in his hands, just before he stepped through the Eluvian?

Why had he kept himself hidden from her, lied to her, for years?

What makes a cause worth it, if you have to destroy so much on the way?

Why, Solas?

No, not Solas. Not anymore.

Fen'Harel.

-

She is going after him.

There must be a reason he can’t let her go. If he haunts her dreams, does that mean he still thinks of her when he’s awake?  It must mean that there is something still there, pulling her to him. Perhaps only a side effect of the magic from the anchor, but could it be something more?

He said once things were easier for him in the fade. All she knows right now is that he tried to reach out to her in a dream before she boarded the ship.

He even spoke her name when she got lost in a nightmare. He helped her escape her darkest thoughts. Why?

But was it really him in the dreams? Was this wolf form his true identity? Why doesn’t he show the face that she had come to know? Are the greys of his eyes even his true color? Or are they red and multiplied by three? 

In the dream she stepped away out of fear and that fear fuelled her subconscious mind. Afraid of confrontation. Scared to find a fresh tear in her threadbare composure, with the wounds still raw from his betrayal and abandonment.

To fall apart before him while she had slowly tried to mend the pieces back together, that was not something she was ready for.

She wasn’t strong enough.

How much has he kept hidden from her and how much of what he shared had been real?

Ugh, now there’s a terrifying thought.

Is it possible that he can be at more places at the same time. Dreaming while awake?

Being an immensely powerful immortal mage and all, she really has no exact idea of the extent of his power.

She looked out over the open expanse of the sea. Rippling waves and cutting winds shaping the world around her like a smudged painting of greys and muted pthalo greens. The salt had chapped her lips, and the strands of hair that had escaped her braid whip her face and wipe at her tears like feathered fingers.

She hadn't seen him in her dreams for the last three days, since setting sail on the open ocean. What did it mean? Did he ignore her perhaps?  Were there not enough spirits to whisper of her location? 

She was not going to admit to missing her grey shadow welcoming her to sleep for the last couple of months. 

Somehow being by herself for a few days, truly by herself, made it easier to recover her focus. She was not going to run away anymore. She could not abandon the world she once vowed to save. 

She made him doubt his perspective once before. She can do it again.

Right?

She is Inquisitor Ellana Lavellan, first of her clan. She has been many things in her short life; Herald, Dalish, knife-ear, a beacon of hope. Lover, friend, enemy. An anchor to the world behind the veil. 

She had united nations and destroyed treacherous plots. She had traveled through time and back again. She had fought nightmares, ancient darkspawn, dragons and demons. She has walked physically through the Fade, damn it!

She had fallen in love with a god. Had been betrayed by her lover. He saved her life and then took her arm.

She had promised she would not give up on him. He had said he would never forget her.

None of those experiences managed to destroy her, although they came close a few times. None of those titles made her forget who she was and what she believed in, and they will not be her undoing now. 

She was Elana Lavellan. They say heroes are not destined for a long life, but could she linger long enough to beat the Dreadwolf at his own game?

Did she even have a chance? Or would she end up petrified, a grey and decaying sculpture in the garden of his pride? Would they sing songs of the Dreadwolf’s lover? Would they say that if you listen closely to her chest you can still hear the beating of his heart?

The only reason she was still alive is because he willed it. 

That didn’t really sound like the equal and emancipated relationship she envisioned when she dreamed of the future long ago, now does it?

But the look in his eyes. The pain she glimpsed when he left her in crestwood. And then, the times where his body betrayed what the heart wanted. He had tried to hide it, but there was no doubt in her mind that he had desired her. The desperation in his kiss on the balcony at Skyhold. 'Ar lath ma', whispered like a confession, 'vhenan' a prayer on his lips. And then in the crossroads the gentleness in the movement of gold-plated fingers, grazing her ear and softening the pulsating pain of the anchor ripping her apart. His lips pressing to hers like it was the sweetest honeyed lie he told her yet. Like it wasn’t a goodbye. 

She is going to chase that last sliver of hope. It is all she has.

She must create a thread, to pull him from his web of plotting and lies. There must be some way to keep his focus on the value of this world. To show him it was worth saving. An anchor of some kind.

The journey at sea would take one more day at most. The best course of action would be to visit the alienage of Kirkwall. She had heard of the elves leaving the city, answering a call. She must be able to uncover one of his agent’s to dig for more information. Could she disguise herself? Without her arm she would always stand out like a sore thumb. Everybody knew the stories of the knife eared Inquisitor and her stolen arm. The Dreadwolf’s agent must know of her importance in the game. Knowing that she had been close to their leader once, she could turn out to be a potential weakness.

Okay, so first she would find a smith and fabricate herself an arm substitute. Oh how she missed Dagna. The dwarven woman must have had a million ideas for hidden daggers in a fake arm! She could meet with Varric in secret, and use his contacts in the city. She hadn’t planned to stay in Kirkwall for more than a day, but she’s sure her friend wouldn’t mind the surprise. He shouldn’t have given her the city's key if he hadn’t anticipated her showing up unannounced.

Okay, step one, disguise her arm. Step two, disguise her identity. Step tree: find more information.

What is Fen’Harel gathering the Elves for? Promises of a better world? Are they joining of their free will or is it some kind of death cult compulsion? No he wouldn't go that far… or would he? She has to find out. The more gaps in her knowledge about him, the wilder her imagination is going to get.

The ocean calms her mind. The harsh winds wipe away the doubt and leave her mind clear and focused.

She has a purpose, a plan. 

On the horizon she can slowly spot the soft outlines of Starkhaven forming in the distance. They are nearing land.

The wolf hunts alone, but she is lonely too.

And she is coming for him.

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

Notes:

My second try at writing a Solavellan piece, but the first one I ever uploaded on AO3! Hope you liked it. :)

Big thanks to my sister @colorandvigor for being my beta and having an amazing grasp of gramar. Note, english is not my first language.

x

[lupines-slash-recs]

Rec: Anytime She Goes Away by Llewlyn

Title: Anytime She Goes Away Author: Llewlyn Canon: Beetlejuice Pairing: Lydia Deetz/Betelgeuse Rating: Teen [PG] Word Count: 14,951 Summary: Beetlejuice isn’t the sharing type, and when his house is invaded, he’s ready to do anything to regain his privacy.

Continue reading...

[wwemcumuscleslover]

Imagine a story when a Fan has the time of her life with 1999 Dave Mustane & James hetfield

[iheartjameshetfield]

the rtl james thing was so good thank yewww muah~ 😚

I’ve also been thinking abt ajfa James (nose ring/undercut brain rot) coming back home from tour and y’all are SO needy for eachother. Like, you’re trying to hold back and ask him about how the tour went and this and that….

James is so so eager too and he’s trying to answer your questions but his dick is so hard just from you giving him a welcome home hug.

a few minutes pass by and he can’t take it anymore so he just picks you up and takes you to bed. he’s so eager but romantic at the same time. there’s so much pent up emotion between the two of you. he was away for weeks and you had missed eachother so much. the phone calls weren’t enough.

James and y/n end up having the most passionate fuck ever and you guys get kinda emotional. OKAY, I’m done ooof 😓

AHHHHH THIS MAN CANNOT HOLD HIMSELF BACK ANYMORE HE JUST NEEDS TO HAVE YOU.

he would literally just say “i’m sorry baby, we’ll talk later but i just need to have you now,” and will throw you against the bed, kissing you with an unbelievable amount of passion. he’s thinking with his dick rn, hes BEEN thinking with his dick ever since he saw you, he got near you. he hugged you, feeling your chest against his as he inhaled your scent, missing everything about you.

as much as he needed you tho, i feel like he’d be so sweet, taking your clothes off, pressing little kisses with each item he strips as he murmurs words like, “fuck you’re so beautiful,” or “i miss my pretty girl.”

the sweetness he had just two seconds ago disappears the instant he sees your naked body splayed out on your bed just for him. he takes off his clothes, not wanting to waste any time and just needing to be inside of you.

he towers over you before lining himself up with you as you bring your hands up, resting them against his shoulders. you gasp when he thrusts inside you, bottoming out as he lets out a groan, missing the feeling of you around him. he wastes no time and immediately starts pistoning his hips against yours, the sound of skin slapping against each other spurring the both of you on. he grabs your thigh, hiking one of your legs against his hip.

“god, you feel so fucking good. takin’ me so well”

james would lean down, taking one breast into his mouth and biting down on it while you cradle his head there with one arm and you claw at his back with your free hand, trying to hold back your groans and cries.

he delivers a slap to your thigh, slamming into you even harder. “nuh uh, baby, none of that. i wanna hear you.” he whispers against your ear, his plush lips brushing against the shell your ear, making you cry out.

you were starting to get close to your orgasm, so you began to thrust upwards, meeting his hips to speed up the process. you start clenching around him, pornographic moan leaving your lips, but james’ lips quickly muffle the sounds.

“shit, i’m gonna cum so hard.” he groans when he pulls away from your mouth. you feel him shoot in hot spurts deep inside of you, but his hips don’t stop slapping against you. in fact, they speed up, if that’s even possible.

you lean forward, holding yourself up with one arm to chase your orgasm as james delivers words of encouragement. you mindlessly nod your head, not being able to focus with the words coming out of his mouth when he hits your sweet spot, the sounds of his cum mixed with your wetness driving you insane.

“come on, gorgeous, cum for me.” he leans down to connect your lips in a kiss, causing you to practically scream in his mouth as you cum, a tear falling from the corner of your eye. he pulls out of you, wanting to see the way both of your cum mixed together leak out.

“so fucking beautiful.” he says to himself more than you, admiring the sight.

he shuffles closer to you, the both of you too tired to clean up and also so needy for each other, not wanting to be apart for a second so you decide to clean up later since you were gonna burn the sheets anyway

pulling my hair.

[lilolilyr]

More than Daydreams // An Endorsement

'He's so much happier when he's with you', Emily had said. Gillian is still wondering about that when she catches Cal lost in his thoughts in his office. She knows: if there is a time to make her move, it is now.

1k words, rated G, no warnings. Read on Ao3

I might post more Callian ficlets and edits, if you want to get notified when I upload more let me know!

[lilrowantree]

officially at the stage of new hyperfixation where i begin to write fanfic and i’m almost scared

rough guideline, ish: