#no self-control

[kxsagi]

okay HEAR ME OUT. rin, with small reader like she's just too small compared to rin. and like rin invited reader to sit on his lap and had a short conversation. and then rin gets a cuteness aggression. like he can't resist her anymore! then they do a make-up session. pls i love how u write bllk characters. I LOVE YOUR WRITING

“𝐧𝐨 𝐬𝐞𝐥𝐟-𝐜𝐨𝐧𝐭𝐫𝐨𝐥”

a/n: THANK YOU!!! as a super small girlie that's barely making it past 5 feet, this is super cute

(don't know art credits but he is just so... majestic)

you’re just… small. 

that’s the only word rin can really focus on when you step into his room wearing his hoodie, the sleeves drooping over your hands, the hem brushing past your thighs like a dress. you look up at him from the doorway with those wide eyes and a shy “hi,” and it just snaps something inside of him. 

he pats his lap. “come here.” 

you blink. “huh?” 

he doesn't repeat it, just gives you that look. the one that always means i’m not asking again. and well… you’ve never exactly said no to rin itoshi. 

you tiptoe over, climbing onto his lap like you’ve done it a thousand times before. even with your legs curled up, you barely take up any space. he wraps his arms around your waist, resting his chin on your shoulder, and lets out a sigh like he’s been holding his breath all day. 

“you’re seriously so small,” he mutters against your neck. 

you huff, leaning back into him. “you say that like i’m a hamster.” 

“hamsters don’t make my heart hurt like this,” he says flatly. 

you twist around in his lap to give him a look. “what kind of line is that?” 

but rin’s not joking. his hands tighten on your hips, and his brows knit together like he’s genuinely pained. “you don’t get it,” he grumbles. “you’re sitting on me like this. wearing my hoodie. all soft and warm and tiny. how the hell am i supposed to function.” 

you bite back a smile, cheeks heating up. “you’re so dramatic.” 

“i’m serious,” he growls, dragging a hand through his hair like he’s one second away from short-circuiting. “you’re like a pocket-sized girlfriend. i could fit you in my duffel bag.” 

“rin –” 

“no. i’m going insane. i want to bite you.” 

you burst out laughing, but he’s not laughing. he’s got that hungry look in his eyes now, like he’s ready to commit unspeakable crimes of affection. 

“don’t move,” he warns, already shifting his hand to cup your jaw, tilting your face up toward his. “if you move, i’m kissing you until you pass out.” 

“i literally just –” 

he kisses you. 

hard. 

one hand at your waist, the other tangled in your hair, tilting your head just right as he leans in and devours you. your fingers clutch his hoodie, lips moving with his as he deepens the kiss like he’s trying to prove a point. like you being this adorable is a personal attack on his sanity. 

you manage to gasp against his mouth, “we’re supposed to be studying –” 

“not anymore,” he mumbles between kisses. “new plan. i kiss you until i feel normal again.” 

“and when will that be?” 

he pulls back just enough to look at you, flushed and breathless in his lap. and then, completely deadpan, says: 

“never.” 

and then he’s kissing you again, with a plan of never stopping. 

© 𝐤𝐱𝐬𝐚𝐠𝐢

[erdbeermayo]

What if... Kageyama Tobio with shaved sides and a ponytail? Also no sleeves, cuz who needs those

[modong]

[isthisclever]

Here and Gone | Outlander Fanfiction

Chapter 2: The Meeting

The bell chimed as he ducked into the warmth of the print shop, shaking off the Edinburgh chill. A relieved sigh rushed from his chest. Placing his hat and coat on the counter and stepping around it, he donned his eyeglasses and glanced over the agenda book laying open.

"Milord, welcome back," Fergus greeted as he emerged from the back office and wrapped an arm around him.

Having been away from the shop for nearly a week negotiating new customers, Jamie embraced him back. "Good tae see ye, mon fils."

Fergus retreated after a moment and leaned against the wall. "Did all go well with the brandy, then?" For his hearty welcome, a detachment hovered behind the lad's eyes that piqued Jamie curiosity. For the moment, he disregarded it, smirking and looking back to the pages before him to see what (legitimate) business had transpired in his absence.

Smuggling spirits through Edinburgh was risky; stepping outside the territory allotted by Sir Percival, bribed to turn a blind eye, was even riskier. Still, Jamie had spent the last weeks developing trusted contacts and carefully, discreetly expanding his underground customer base. When asked, Jamie claimed a desire to grow their own profits; Sir Percival's fees were a necessary beast to do business, but it shaved their own take to barely anything, especially split four to five ways.

For the most part, his men had accepted his words, eager to earn a bit more coin for their trouble. Jamie knew one among his crew saw straight through his excuses, though. Fergus had always been perceptive. And more than that, he'd seen Jamie through the worst of his days. Witnessed the desolation in those early years. Upon returning home from Helwater, too, he'd seen the hardness and the gauntness not of body but of soul.

No, Fergus knew precisely why Jamie engaged in the illicit activities he did. Why he took the inch he was given and stretched it a mile. Fergus understood with near-perfect clarity why even after all he'd suffered and lost, he'd turned to smuggling and sedition. And why even those weren't rebellion enough for him anymore.

Because doing so gave him a purpose. Distracted him from the long-suffering pain that never diminished.

Keep reading on AO3

Start from the beginning

[the-eternal-strawberry]

Am I lactose intolerant? Yes.

Am I aware that because I unknowingly consumed milk for most of my life my body has become addicted to the reaction to it? Yes.

Did I drive through a rainstorm at 10:00pm just to get a milkshake?

[bigboisett]

So, hear me out....

...

.

Feral Sett. 

Still a wip of an idea but I’ll be dropping my notes down on here randomly while I study more on the vastayan race and how the magic works there :3

[fabfrnkie]

On the 7th day, fab said “fuck it”. 

[questir-a]

When she was first brought to Ishgard, she and her parents were nearly killed on the spot had it not been for her parents’ fervent pleas of mercy. Instead, both were sacrificed in place of their child for their troubles.

And so the church took in the dragon child to raise her.

She is kind and gentle growing up—malleable for their purposes. She is taught that her horns and tail and scales are not features to be proud of. She is taught her features are products of her heinous heritage and it is only by Halone’s mercy that she lives. It is only by mercy that she is in the church’s open, loving embrace.

And she agrees. She is thankful. A pious nun she becomes, a meek and timid child who smiles at all who spit at her. Soon, she becomes an icon among the believers—this is what we can do to the Dravanians, to their people. We can change them, don’t you see? This one will never bare her fangs nor lash out at anyone. This one, we can control.

She smiles through it all, clenching her fists and teeth, trying to do the very thing they praise her for—except she is an undying flame that cannot be contained and she is not she.

His name is not Marianne or whatever dumb name they’ve chosen for him. But they hold him down with no physical chains but leashes of obedience and devotion. And yet the gods never answer his prayers for answers, for reasons. He itches to leave, to tear himself free from this godsforsaken church, to be himself. But the priests watch closely and the mothers closer still.

He hides his binders well and small rebellions better. The mothers do not think much when there’s less hair in his nun cap. Few barely notice his straightened shoulders and lifted chin. No one catches him studying the dragoons and knights training closely as he walks with the mothers to spread goodwill.

If he’s feeling brave enough, he sneaks out, glamours his horns into elven ears, dresses in clothes that better suit him, and stuffs his tail into his pants. He pretends to be a new recruit who’s lost his way. Alone in the training arena, he feels out the length of a spear, its reach, and its weight in soft palms. He plunges that training spear deep into a straw dummy and practices the motion over and over again until his joints are aching and his lungs begging for air.

He freezes when he feels the point of a lance nudge at his back. He drops the spear, slowly raises his hands, and turns around to face a legitimate recruit wearing a dour look on his face.

He offers a defiant smile.

“Is there a problem?” He asks.

“I’ve never seen you around before.” The recruit answers. “Who are you?”

“A fellow recruit. Just practicing a bit before hitting the hay.”

“Training’s not till crack of dawn, mate.”

Whoops.

He laughs then.

The legitimate recruit is baffled and lowers his spear. “What’s so funny?”

“Oh,” the pretender replies with a nonchalant shrug, “everything, I guess.”

He take another glance around. This will be his last look of the place, no doubt.

He smacks the lance out of the recruit’s lax grip and rushes in to take hold of his collar. The recruit stiffens, and fixes the pretender with an outraged glare.

“Never let your guard down, dearest,” the pretender warns with a light lilt to his voice. “Can’t let those dragons pull one over you, eh?”

Then he pulls away with another teasing laugh, taking a few steps back outside the recruit’s range.

“Farewell!” he waves his fingers at the recruit. “Tell the dragons I said hi.”

With a twirl of his heel, he vanishes into the shadow. In the darkness, the telltale gleam of scales catch moonlight.