#i rarely have dreams about ships but when i do this happens

[fabdante]

anyway fun dmc reboot thing that happened to me

i had a dream last night where ninja theory, 11 years later, added this tragic ass vergil/kat scene to the end of the game where they actually talk before he leaves in his hell portal and he kisses her on the forehead and there was crying and he still leaves and everything and vergil/kat was confirmed to have been canon at least previously

but i was freaking out too much watching it to fully watch it and then tried to look up this random new scene later and i just could not find it nothing was coming up and i had no idea what i'd done 11 years later to trigger it

then i woke up and was so frustrated because all of my dream frustration and sadness was for not

[quantum1mmortality]

Captain Curly; marriage hcs <3

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Chat I know I mentioned getting back into writing for twst but the current hyperfixation is too strong rn so just bare with me I NEED to write for mouthwashing

!this is written with an AU in mind; curly still works for pony express, but there's no ship. Just a normal job. Also J***y doesn't exist.!

Tw/cw; afab!reader, mentions of pregnancy and having said baby, MANHANDLING!!!!, teasing, use of pet names, uhhh I can't think of any else

Not proofread

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Sfw

I think Curly would definitely be a family oriented person. The further you'd get into your relationship, the more he'd ask about your opinion on kids and if you'd want any in the future.

I also think Curly would be on the traditional side, too. If you said yes to having kids, he'd take that as an opportunity to show you how good of a provider he can be, and how willing he is to become a father.

When you do eventually have children, he'd be more than willing to take off work to help around the house. You just gave birth, he knows it's hard for you, so he'd make breakfast, lunch, and dinner for all three of you.

Sidenote; Curly would definitely be a good cook. He probably took culinary in highschool

If he knew Anya at the time, he'd have her babysit your children so he could take you out on dates. This happens quite often, too; probably around once or twice a month. He just wants to show how much he appreciates you and everything you've done for him and your relationship <3

He'd take you to the most expensive restaurants and tell you to order whatever you wanted, and if you're done breastfeeding, he'd order a bottle of champagne for you both.

He'd be one of those "I love my wife" husbands. Everyone at his job is so sick of hearing him talk so highly of you. It'll be someone's birthday, they'll bring a cake, and he just won't eat it. Why? "My wife could make a better cake."

After you guys got married, he couldn't stop calling you his wife. That name felt so surreal to him; like the woman of his dreams is finally his? And there's a title for that?? Of course he's going to use it constantly.

He probably also took Anya out to help him pick out a ring. And thank god he did btw because he would've gotten you a ring with the biggest diamond they had 😭😭 (sorry to all the big ring lovers in chat rn they're just not it for me)

Nsfw

Curly is a romantic. He'd want to take things slow, cherish you as much as possible, especially if it's your first time.

He wouldn't think of it as sex, he'd think of it as lovemaking; showing you his worth and how much he cares about you.

He rarely gets rough, you have to ask him to be because he just won't do it. But, he's a suck up for you, so if you want something, it's yours.

So, he'd get rough. He'd go faster than he usually does, maybe put his hand around your neck and squeeze ever so gently. But afterwards, he'd feel awful; like he was hurting you or something.

He'd apologize profusely, say he's never gonna do it again, but does it a few days later. It's like going through the five stages of grief but skipping the first four and consistently being at acceptance

He's a hand holder. Since he's an intimate person, his preferred position is missionary. He likes this position for a few reasons; he gets to see your expression if you're enjoying it or uncomfortable, he gets to kiss you, and he can hold your hand. It's one of his favorite things to do, not only because he finds it much more romantic, but he also loves how you squeeze his hand when you're getting close.

Teasing is one of the things he does best. But verbal teasing, not physical. You can hear him giggle anytime he's inside you, practically taunting you when he knows you're close. He'd say something dumb like, "aw, is princess gonna cum?" And then have a shit eating grin on his face.

Pet names are another thing he uses often. Like I said previously, he'd call you princess, but there's also other names he'd call you during the act. Love, darling, and angel are the ones he uses for you most commonly, aside from princess of course.

I saw someone else say this on here and their hcs were actually what made me want to write (I swear on my SOUL I am NOT trying to copy them 🙏🙏🙏🙏 sorry if it comes off like that) but they said Curly would be buff and I completely agree. He would be HUGE, I'm thinking 6'3-6'5, easily over 220lbs.

The manhandling would go CRAZY, you don't like a position? No issue, he'll just pick you up and put you in a different one. Can't keep your legs open while he's being a munch? As much as he enjoys the feeling of suffocating between your thighs, which believe me, he does, he can't exactly pleasure you if he's unconscious from the lack of airflow. Not a big issue, a firm hand on each leg will do the trick.

Another comment on his body alone to wrap this up; he'd definitely be muscular in his legs and especially his arms. I think his stomach would be toned, not a six pack, but toned. Maybe even a little pudge and a v line 🤭🤭🤭🤭🤭

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A/N: hi guys pls send requests for curly fics plasplsplspslsplsplslsplspls I'm so thirsty for this man oh ky god I'm crynng

[heartpiratedrabbles]

His Hat

Prompt: Courtesy of @tsunderedonut: Imagine Law putting his hat on his shy, vulnerable S/O that's riding him for the first time.

NSFW

Trafalgar Law X Reader

You have confidence. You’re courageous. You weren’t self-conscience at all. When it came to your job. Being a mechanic for the Polar Tang was like a dream job for you. You stayed in the boiler room watching levels go up and down and you knew exactly how to fix any leaks or breaks that came about. You were ecstatic when the Surgeon of Death came to your shore so long-ago needing repairs and just so happened to see you’re value onboard the ship after fixing everything, eagerly packing your bags to join the crew.

           You were not, however, prepared for love. Despite being on the world for over 2 decades, you had only gone on one hap-hazard date that your friend had set you up on, and needless to say it ended up awful. The man flirted with your roommate right in front of you, and despite your naivety, even you knew what he was doing. Plus, with a few undesirable stalkers here and there, you decided dating wasn’t for you. And so, your short, non-existing love life had come to an end.

         That is until you joined the Heart Pirates. After getting to know everyone on board you realized your feelings for your captain burned like a wild fire. It was dangerous and weird, being completely new territory compared to what you have felt before. At first you had thought it was some ship-madness, you were warned by your captain/doctor when you arrived that it could take a while to get use to life on a submarine, even more so when they rarely surfaced. But as you went about your duties and getting to know the crew, you realized that your heart never beat that fast around the others, even so you tried to deny such feelings.

         You got close to Penguin as he often came to the boiler room for menial tasks and found more out about, your captain. Despite his cold, non-caring demeanor, he always made sure everyone was alright. And although he didn’t show it, he did enjoy the antics played by the crew. Although he demanded his alone time, he was just as often to be found in the rec-room watching as others drank or played a game. Penguin also clued you in that once a month Law joined in on any game of the crews picking to stay connected.

         And it wasn’t until you were drinking alongside Penguin, that he confronted you, “So you like Law huh?” He chattered out after taking a swig of his glass. You choked on what you were drinking, nearly spitting it out at his words, your face turning the brightest shade of red he had ever seen. “Jeez, blush any harder and the rest of your body won’t have any blood,” He had laughed out at your reaction.

         “What?!?” You practically yelled at him, you felt your body stiffen at the thought and you could hear Shachi in the background ask if Penguin was bullying you. “I don’t like anyone. Never have,” You tried to reason taking the last swig of your drink, you didn’t know the feelings of love. The uncomfortable, painful feelings of unrequited love that made you dumb in the mind and weak in your knees, stomach slightly queasy at the thought of someone.

         “Please, you only pay attention to my ramblings when I’m talking about him. No need to be shy Y/N,” Penguin grinned out before reaching over to fill your glass up again, “Just relax. Feelings aren’t going to hurt you.” You looked around to see if anyone else was listening in but other than Shachi glancing at you two from across the room, everyone else seemed occupied.

         The thought of sharing your life with someone, with Law of all people, everything from the simple hand holding to the fantasies of sharing a bed, going on small dates and being marked in one way or another. You shake your head violently to get rid of such things before downing your entire glass. “There’s no way Penguin.” You squeaked out not making eye contact with him.

         “Denile will get you no where Y/N. Just accept it, I didn’t realize you were such a virgin when it came to matters of the heart,” He laughed at your misery, and how your eyes fixed on a portion of the table in front of you.

         “I don’t have feelings Penguin! Feelings are messy squishy things that don’t make sense. I’m not stupid enough to let something I can’t control distract me from my life,” You pipe out quickly, grabbing the bottle from the man’s hands to take another swig. He smirked at you, unconvinced of your words, “Just because I sometimes think about him doesn’t mean anything!” You immediately stop, eyes wide as you look at Penguin, whose smirk has turned into a full toothed grin.

         “You’re right! Feelings don’t make sense. But you can’t stop them from happening,” He gleefully said, “Excuse me one second.” You watch as he stood up, “You owe me 20 Berries Shachi!” He yelled across the room while walking over to the grumbling crewmember.

         You slam your head against the table with a ‘thud’. Feelings. Sure, you imagined how it would feel like to have the captain by your side, to be able to capture his eyes and keep him for yourself. You held your breathe at such thoughts, that could never happen. Hiding your face in your arms, you heard Penguin return to his seat but you couldn’t look at him.

         Over the next couple of weeks, the pair would make quips and remarks of your crush if you were alone with them, instantly making you freeze like an ice cube. The prodding from them had made your feelings all the more evident to yourself and it had made it harder and harder to bury such fuzzy emotions. You weren’t the most social of person, but now you found it harder than ever to talk to anyone, the embarrassment and fear of them finding out about your unrequited feelings being too much for you to bear. The only time you’d be able to speak confidently is if it was about work, it was easy to avoid emotions when you had to think in facts and bury them with work.

         That is, until you noticed a particularly important part starting to show signs of breaking. Best to take care of it now than be in trouble later, you headed to your Captains office for approval to buy the new part. He hadn’t been expecting you but happily let you into his quiet office. You stood in front of his desk explaining the issue and how it’d be better to replace it now and he seemed to agree.

         But as you turned to leave, he called out, “Y/N-ya,” you stopped in your tracks. Had one of your maintenance reports not been up to par? You’re back still turned to him your mind was reeling at what you could have messed up but you were certain there was no way you would turn in half-assed work. And then, your mind suddenly stopped. Realizing where you were, who you were talking to. Your heart beating faster, cheeks turning slightly red. “I’ve noticed you’ve been avoiding me recently,” Law’s voice rang out in the room, his smooth deep voice, addressing you and not something to do with your job. “Did I do something wrong?”

         You pick your head up slightly at the last sentence, snapping around to face him head on, frantically trying to reassure that it has nothing to do with him, “I just haven’t been feeling well-“ You quickly pipe out not thinking of anything else as you could hear your heartbeat in your ears.

         Law perks up at your sudden excuse, immediately standing up, taking long strides to get to you quickly. A hand immediately going to your forehead, freezing at the sudden contact you feel your cheeks burn up, “You do seem to have a fever,” He muttered to himself before activating his powers to transport the both of you to the med bay. “Sit down real quick,” He demanded as he went to grab a stethoscope.

         It was hard to breathe. Here you were with a stupid school-girl crush, making your Captain worried over nothing. Yet you couldn’t quite seem to find the right words, trying to push off your illness as a quick thing that’d be gone soon. But Law would hear none of it. Quickly he listened to your heart, asking you to breathe in and out as you whine out that it’s truly nothing. It’s not until he places a hand on your back to keep you from shying away that he realized your heart beating faster at his own touch.

         He quickly glanced up at your face, that you were desperately trying to hide from him by staring at the far corner away from him. “Are you truly unwell Y/N-ya?” He firmly asked, demanding a truthful answer.

         And just like that your Captain found out your feelings for him. You rushed to your room the second you felt his touch leave you to ignore the rejection you refused to hear. And it wasn’t until the next day that Law had come to find you of his own accord, asking you out on a date the next time they reached land.

~~~

         That was months ago, 6 months to be precise. And ever since you had been dating the man in front of you. You still couldn’t believe it, it felt unreal. “It seems like your mind is elsewhere love,” He leaned up to give you a peck on the lips, gently taking your hands in his.

         You had decided to try and be forward yourself this time round, and couldn’t help but feeling like backing out now. You had certainly had sex before but it was never like this, not when the lights were still on, not when you could see his reactions. The simple fact sending your head reeling at how hot Law was underneath you.

         You had lured him back to his room, claiming you needed to talk to him. You had been slightly jealous of how he was talking to a bar maiden on land and immediately confronted him, only now losing your nerve. The second he stepped into the room you had slammed the door shut and pushed him on the bed, straddling him before you were going to ride him. But the second you got on top of him your mind started working again. This was also the first time you were truly on top of him, looking down at him, seeing how he stared back up at you with heat in his eyes. You cheeks become more red as you avoid his gaze.

         “What were you going to do now that we’re alone?” Law smirks while looking at you, no doubt enjoying how flustered you looked. He gripped your hips before jutting his own up into you. You fall forward, the movement snapping you out of your daze.

         “I. I was,” You try to stutter out as he lifts your shirt up, and you let him rip it off you, his eyes staring right into you. You look down slightly, still avoiding eye contact, “I was gonna remind you that your mine.” You whisper, embarrassed at the thought now.

         Law gleefully shifts, taking off his own shirt in the process, “And how were you going to do that?” He urges you to continue. Law enjoyed watching how flustered you could get, despite dating for a decent amount of time you still couldn’t control yourself in situations where he’s giving you all his attention. Looking down at him, you quickly cover his eyes with one of your hands.

         “No looking,” You whine out as you start to get off him, “You have to give me a second.” Law chuckles a bit but goes to move his hat, which had fallen a couple inches away when you pushed him, over his eyes, assuring you he won’t take a peek. After a quick second of making sure he can’t see you, you stand up fully.

         You look at the man in front of you before turning around, taking off your pants quickly, glancing over your shoulder just to be sure. Law decides humming will distract him in this situation. Frustrated at your playful boyfriend, you get to work on his pants, him lifting his hips slightly to help you undress him. His cock springing up as you release it from its cloth prison.

         Law lets you widen his legs as you kneel between them, stopping just inches away from his dick. You see movement from the corner of your eye and snap your head back up, “No peeking!” You yell out more embarrassed at your own actions than anything else. Law puts his arm back down, deciding to keep quiet for the time being.

         You take one more deep breath before you wrap your lips around him. Slowly bobbing your head up and down, covering his member in saliva. The salty taste of his precum making you go insane with desire. Your slow pacing doesn’t seem up to Law’s standards as he bucks his hips forward, making you gag in the process. You place both your hands on his hips to try and control your boyfriend, and while he didn’t stop entirely from pumping his hips towards your head, he was a little gentler.

         “Fuck Y/N-ya,” Law groaned out when you sat up, leaving his cock wanting for more. You looked up to make sure he still couldn’t see you and sighed when you saw the hat still in place. Readjusting yourself to now be sitting on him again you could hear him take a sharp breath. His throbbing cock in one hand, aiming it towards your entrance as you sink down on him slowly. It felt completely different than normal. You were in control, and every inch was touching you in places you didn’t think was possible. The pleasure already overwhelming.

         You try to hold in your own moan as you sink lower, feeling impossibly full as he bottoms out in you. You sit there for a second, hands on Law’s abs to steady yourself, holding your breath at this new pleasure you’ve discovered before grinding your hips, feeling him deep inside you. You finally remember to breathe after Law decides to thrust up into you, falling forward on his chest as he wraps his arms around you, pinning you to him. You gasp for air, moaning his name as he sets a brutal pace.

         “L-Law,” You moan out in frustration and you look up to see him shift his head to peek out from under the hat, with an absolutely devilish grin on his face.

He places a kiss on your forehead, “Yes love?” He thrusts into you again and you wiggle one of your arms free, prying yourself out of his arms to sit back up. Only to be met with another wave of pleasure at the different angle. You mind becoming empty of most thoughts as you hear the man below you chuckle. He reaches up taking his hat and placing it on your head, caressing your body before landing both his hands on your hips. You gasp a bit as he holds you down slightly, feeling him twitching inside you.

With some encouragement from his large hands, you start to ride Law like there’s no tomorrow. Barely being able to breathe yourself as he hits every sensitive part of you. Every now and then stopping to feel how full you feel with him in you. Tears brimming your eyes as your mind is flooded with pleasure and lust.

Laws eyes devour you, savoring every inch as he watches you bounce on him. Your head lulled back and forth; mouth hung open as you scream his name. His hat would be covering your eyes if you hadn’t been continuously pushing it up before going back to steadying yourself on him. The sight before him being a drug he never knew he was addicted too until you had come around. He feels you twitch around him and he stops his own thrusts, gripping your hips to stop you from moving any further.

“Law!” you scream out at the lack of movement, grinding your hips for any friction. He smirks up at you, not responding, watching as you desperately try to bounce despite not being able too. Law slowly raises his hips, holding your hips in the same spot, reaching deeper than before and it begins to feel like it too much. You cry trying to squirm, move, anything to help relieve the pressure that was making you insane. “Please Law,” you beg him to do something.

You can barely see his face underneath you, the hat falling over your eyes, but you’re certain Law has a smirk on his face as he ignores your pleads. Gasping for air you finally fall forward, gripping your boyfriends’ shoulders, “It’s too much- Please Law,” You beg into his chest trying to move even an inch over feeling how deep he is. How you can still feel him twitch slightly inside of you at every moan and plead. Making your mind numb from the overwhelming pleasure and pressure building up.

After a quick second, Law lifts your chin with one of his hands, the other still firmly planted on your hip, “You’re adorable Y/N-ya.” Law whispers it while staring right into your tear stained eyes, kissing you gently before suddenly flipping you over so that you are now on your back. How he stayed inside of you was a mystery but the feeling drove you insane as he hooking both your legs over his shoulders, pounding into you fast and hard.

You try to grip the bed underneath you to stabilize yourself before you looked up to see how Law was looking at you. The insatiable devil in front of you looking directly at all the faces you made as you continued to moan his name. The realization of what he was doing, angling every now and then and licking his lips as you twisted about, he loved watching you. You quickly grab the brim of his hat, pulling it over your face to avoid his gaze.

This brought about 2 different things in this intense moment. One was the immense and heavenly smell of Law’s hair, the shampoo he used that drove you crazy while you played with his hair, and the second being Law leaning forward, your legs still hooked over his shoulders as he continued to ruin you. Crying out as he stole your lips, shoving his tongue into your mouth while adjusting his hat to be properly on your head. “Don’t hide from me,” He growled out in desire before recapturing your lips.

You move your hands to wrap around his neck, deepening the kiss while one hand rakes its way through his hair and the other digging your nails into his back. You could feel your orgasm approaching quickly and you tugged at his hair to release your lips, “Law please. I want you to cum~”  

He leans down to leave marks on your neck as you scream out his name, “Are you ready?” He asks one last time into your ears and you can barely reply to him as pleasure is overfilling you. Law quickly following suit, slowing down only after you felt him fill you. The both of you stay there for a second, catching your breaths.

Law’s the first one to move, slowly pulling out and gently putting your legs down, knowing how they were numb at this point. You groan at soreness from being empty but can feel his seed slipping out of you. “This is dangerous,” Law smiles at you from his standing position as you stare at him, still on cloud nine.

“What is?” You mutter out, looking at him from half-lidded eyes.

He leans down close to you, giving a gentle kiss before peppering them down your neck to your collarbone, “You only wearing my hat. It’s absolutely hypnotic.” He breathes into your neck with lust still in his voice.

[citrinae]

alarm clock.

sanji x reader

contents; in which you’re having the sloppiest, laziest morning sex with sanji. fluffy smut, piv, creampie, afab!reader, mdni. thought this as a blurb of like 200 to 300 words but then things degenerated & now it’s 1.2k. oops i guess?

masterlist

Silence; the room taking from dark blue to beige.

You rarely wake up in Sanji’s arms—close to never, you dare to say. So when he allows himself the luxury to slack off, you try to make the most of the little amount of time you catch together. This is what is happening now; trying to blink off the sleep from your eyes, simply enjoying each other’s presence.

Then you become aware of Sanji's hand cupping your breasts through your pyjamas. Absently he fiddles with one of your nipples, his breathing a heavy staccato against your nape as his lips trail down to reach your neck. You let out a satisfied hum into the covers. He chuckles in response, a light, dreamy sound that makes you shiver. 

“I dreamt about you, mon coeur,” he tells you, all melted sugar as his lashes ghost over your ear. 

It's reflexively that you press your back against his chest, embracing the warmth. Your lips part as he adds more pressure to your hardened bud. Still dazed from your sleep, you keep your eyes closed.

“Seems like it was a good dream,” you say.

“Mhm,” his fingertips roll off your chest and further down your stomach. He sounds distracted, but he buzzes with heat, like he’s trying to relive the events passing through him just moments ago in his sleep. It does not take long until you start feeling him under your shirt. 

“What was I doing there?” you wonder. 

Leaking through his boxers, Sanji's erection is evident as you find yourself moving against him. “You were just so,” hoarse, kissing across your jawline. “Beautiful, my dear. Like you always are.” A moment later, approaching the hem of your pants, he adds, “We had the ship to ourselves, and…” 

Your thighs shift in anticipation. “And?”

“You let me touch you,” he says. “From behind, like this,” his fingers touch across your inner thigh and further down your slit, one by one, squelching sounds climbing from the sheets. “Fuck, you’re so wet. A little needy for me already, are we?”

Truth is, you are, wet and needy, like you’ve never been this early in the day. His other hand continues to toy with your breast and now you’re practically grinding yourself against him, focusing on Sanji's throbbing cock into the thin fabric of your pyjamas. 

Speaking becomes a little challenging with Sanji’s fingers making diligent circles on your clit. “Just hoping we did more than just touching, mh—in your dream.”

“Oh,” his digits push themselves into a drowsy rhythm, paying special attention to the spots that make your toes curl. “Yeah, there was more.”

The air grows dense with body heat and your sheets are damp. For a minute you allow each other to just lose yourselves to the comfortable press of your skins, touching through your clothes and filling the room with your moans. You feel smooth in Sanji's arms, lit quicksilver, punched out as his fingertips grace your slit with their sugar devotion. 

Noticing the desperation with which your hips cling to his crotch, Sanji takes the opportunity to push himself into you, grazing his cock against your pants.

“You want it in, don’t you?” he murmurs, and it’s low, magnetic, barely containing the lust that settled at the bottom of his throat. 

Delirious. It makes you delirious. 

“I do,” you say, breathless. “I want you so bad.”

“Well you should have it,” Sanji buries his face into your hair as he tugs at the hem of your pants, pulling them off in a fluid motion. His cock springs free from his boxers, too, not wasting much time before brushing himself at your entrance. “I'm all yours, always.”

Despite the growing need he can read in your breathing, Sanji is a man who likes to start slowly, coating his cock in your slick and kissing across your shoulder to reward you for your patience. When he goes in, it’s with a sigh that leaves you in a hypnotic fog. Deeper he drags himself into you, and you whine at the fullness, your thighs damp with traces of your desire for Sanji and his cock and the way he makes you feel like you’re the only ones breathing across these seas. You accommodate fast, almost like you were made for him. 

“Goodness, you’re tight,” his lips vibrate on your skin. Moments later he starts up a pace, lethargic and messy as he pulls himself in and out of you, not that either of you seem to care. “Does it feel good, my love?”

“’s so good, Sanji,” rolling your hips against him. “Please don’t stop.”

So he doesn’t, thrusting deeper but not the less slow, mouthing heated praises into your ear. With just as much devotion he touches your breasts and stomach and butt, making sure you know he loves you down to every curve. In return you allow yourself the liberty of letting out the sounds that you know he adores just so. A shoulder slips from the covers, soon followed by an ankle, let sunlight spill in through the window and mix itself with the affection emanated by Sanji's body. This time he pushes himself a little harder than the context requires, skins pressed back together with a slapping sound, and the bed creaks as he does. 

“You always take me so well,” he heaves it with so much solemnity, so much love. “So good and sweet it’s driving me crazy.”

You clutch the sheets in your hands, feeling closer and closer to your high with each deep thrust he makes into you. Quivering from the friction, your folds are wrapped tightly around his cock, and Sanji growls wetly into your nape from the electric sensation coming from being milked by your heat. 

“Keep up, keep up,” comes out more desperate than you intended. “So close, god.”

Sanji picks up the pace here, buckling his hips with just the perfect amount of strength and using his hand to push two digits round your clit.

“Come for me,” he urges you, sweetly. “Cream around this cock you love so much, my dearest.”

And you come; heavily, loudly, letting yourself go to the waves of pleasure crashing over you like a tempest. You can tell this has Sanji moaning, too, but it’s muffled, distanced from the orgasm he continues to fuck you through. Your head still buzzes as you ride off your peak, and that’s when you notice how close Sanji is from his own, breath trembling, overwhelmed. 

“Fuck,” is all he can manage. “Ngh, when you look like that I—” Something snaps within him. Soon there’s warmth spilling into you, dripping off your thighs and onto the sheets. His face collapses at your shoulder blades. You stay like that for a minute, his arms still wrapped around you in a closest embrace. Then he flips you over, and it’s the first time you meet his eyes today—droopy and dull like he just got pulled from a dream. 

A smile tugs at his lips. He is soon to scoop you up and clean after the mess he’s made of you. Doing something to these sheets, all wrinkled and drenched in arousal, would be a good idea as well. But before all that, there’s one thing he has to make sure of. 

“So what do you want for breakfast, butterfly?”

[butterfluffy]

strawhats + d. mihawk with a healer!s/o

⠀⠀ੈ♡˳· what would it be like being a healer, and an s/o to these people?

⠀⠀➧ unlabeled | strawhats, d. mihawk (separate)  x gn!reader | multi-character headcanons

⠀⠀➧ warnings — idk, none, ig? mistakes may be present tho.. so do ignore them, thanks.

⠀⠀➧ requests are closed, sorryyyyy..!

⠀⠀꒰ 🍨 ꒱ notes: finally writing to clear out my inbox aAaaaAahhHhhHHHHh

req by @n0body-1mportant

MONKEY D. LUFFY

This trouble maker captain right here is always injured lol

So that said, you always go on healing your big, trouble maker baby

Wild card : Though he can take punches, kicks, and even stabs without screaming in pain—Luffy starts whining like a poor puppy everytime he comes to ask you to patch him up.

“Y/n...! Look, look, I'm heavily injured! I'm reaallyy hurt! Won't you heal me!? And, and! Won't you give me a kiss, too, for doing a great job in beating that bastard's ass!?”

RORONOA ZORO

Same as his captain, the first mate is always injured—due to fights, his harsh training, and other causes

..Despite always being injured, Zoro hates getting himself patched up. But if you're the one doing the healing so he could get better, it's all good for him!

Wild card : Zoro doesn't care if he's greatly bleeding out during a fight—but outside a fight, if he got the smallest cut, Zoro immediately dashes to you to get himself healed up..!

“Hey, so, I was peeling myself apples a while ago using that ero-cook's damned knife—now I got this cut. Heal it now, and eat these with me, yeah?”

NAMI

Nami very much hates getting herself injured, especially getting scars

So Nami is quick to rush to you to get her injury fixed

Wild card : this happens quite rarely, since as said above, she hates getting scars—but, nami sometimes get herself injured on 'places' to see you flushed when she asks you to heal it~

“Babyyy..! Look, look! Look at my perfectly beautiful legs here! They've got a scar! Their beauty has been tarnished, so, please.. Take care of them, yeah~?”

USOPP

Usopp avoids getting himself injured at all cost.

And when he does get injured, he screeches as he dash towards you with tears on his eyes, asking you to heal his injury ASAP.

Wild card : I have this headcanon for Usopp where he's a real clutz, so he always has an injury here and there, and wounds that he doesn't know where it came from.

“Y-Y/n..! W..When I woke up, I saw this new wound on my arm..! I..I don't know where it came from—it's probably from the spirits that I've angered, waaahh!!”

(it was caused by Luffy. He was dreaming that Usopp was a piece of meat, and bit him during their sleep. 💀)

VINSMOKE SANJI

As the left hand man of the ship's captain, Sanji is always out on a fight to support his captain, so injuries are unavoidable.

He's developed durability to the beating up he receives and shows it off his coolness to you, BUT AFTER THE FIGHT, he whines.

Wild card : This perv right here always has a nosebleed everytime you go patch up his beaten up ass, causing you more trouble.

“My loveee..! I'm injured, I'm badly hurt..! Everything's so painful, so please, heal me with your magic kiss—*you kiss him* *he nosebleeds*”

NICO ROBIN

Robin isn't a big fan of getting injuries during combat, or whenever.

Though despite being injured, she handles it like a Queen! (You don't.)

Wild card : As said above she handles her injuries like the Queen she is, BUT, you don't—you're more panicked when she's injured as she stays calm while telling you some morbid jokes.

“Darling.. Please calm down. I'm not going to die, you know? All I got is this small scratch the size of a severed finger, so, don't worry about me too much, okay?”

FRANKY

SUPEEEERRRRR Franky right here who's a barely gets himself injured.

↑ Why? Because, he's a cyborg, a cool one who will barely get a scratch..!

Wild card : ...When Franky does get injured for some reason being during a fight or where else, he starts crying like a small child to you as he asks you to heal him...!

“Waaahh! This damned injury hurts so bad..! It's SUPEEEERRRR painful, I'm gonna cry! Y/n, Y/n, quick, quickly, heal me and ease my pain..!!”

DRACULE MIHAWK

The greatest swordsman? Injured?? Pfft, not a chance.

Though when he's going against strong fellas, he gets some scratches here and there, which he deals with by himself—not wanting to bother you.

Wild card : Mihawk doesn't show it, but, he loves, and finds it cute when you insist on helping him with his injury that he already had managed, or can obviously handle fixing by himself.

“My dear... I already fixed my injury, so don't worry about it. But.. If you really insist on using your ability to speed up the healing process.. Alright. I'll let you.”

© butterfluffy 2023

⠀⠀ʚїɞ · likes, comments, reblogs, and/or feedbacks are highly appreciated!

[utilitycaster]

I like that the Raven Queen, who made the decision to take on an immense and (at least to her understanding at the time) unending responsibility is the one who calls Bells Hells out on their endless indecision.

It's been...interesting, shall we say, tracking this "party of NPCs," and tracking the fandom response throughout. The initial reception to "party of NPCs" was actually a rather cold one. This took place early in the campaign, prior to the Gnarlrock fight, and at the time a lot of people who shipped Imogen and Laudna were actually extremely resistant to the idea that Imogen was the "main character" of the campaign (as seen in the fallout from the gnarlrock fight, in which the bulk of attacks from the fandom were on Imogen). I've had complicated feelings on Taliesin's reads of this campaign specifically - he tends to have a very good understanding of his own characters that doesn't necessarily expand beyond them - but that phrase was indeed pretty valid. I think about the WBN interludes, in fact, in which the cast plays using NPC statblocks, and what a true party of NPCs for Bells Hells would look like, since it would be quite simple to draw up.

Allied NPCs in TTRPGs rarely act without guidance from the PCs. I've cast a critical eye in the past towards certain meta (particularly romantic in nature, regarding Yeza or Essek or Gilmore not making moves) for this reason, because while villains and antagonists move throughout the world generating obstacles, allies exist to be directed. They have their limits, of course; they have their own priorities and motivations and cannot be persuaded against their nature, but they can be guided at oblique angles from the GMs initial intent given enough work from the PCs. They're still people with thoughts and feelings and dreams, to an extent, but rarely do they make decisions that would conflict with those of the PCs.

That's the problem with a party of NPCs. NPCs take direction. They serve as support, but they're not in the driver's seat. And the Raven Queen has noticed.

The attitude within the fandom towards "Party of NPCs" became far more positive over time, and I wonder if it should have. People began to lean perhaps too heavily on how Bells Hells were people from nothing and nowhere, discarded. This is of course objectively false when comparing across parties (can we really say Imogen had a worse childhood than Vex? Chetney to Caleb? Even Ashton to Fjord?) but were it true, that in and of itself wouldn't be a problem. D&D backstories are often tear-stained and blood-soaked, full of unjust accusations, dead or neglectful parents, failure and regret. D&D is a game about coming from very little but a disproportionately good stat block for a commoner. It is unavoidably about amassing power. Starting off as a party of NPCs is fine. You should not still be a party of NPCs at the endgame.

I mentioned the gnarlrock, and I've mentioned an emphasis (or overemphasis) on this party's lack of agency and I think that remains the problem. Ludinus's villainy is rich, complex, and multifaceted, but a consistent element of it is his eternal false insistence that he - Martinet, founder and head of the Cerberus Assembly, Archmage - is just a little guy, chaff in the wind of the will of the gods, without free will of his own (he says, as he places his thread outside the reach of the Matron). That too is a theme in fandom discourse: free will and intent. Is Imogen justified in being angry at Laudna for breaking the rock if that wasn't Laudna's intent? (yes.) Is Orym on a quest of vengeance, with a death wish? (no, but if he were it wouldn't matter.) Was it wrong to pressure Fearne to take the shard instead of letting her make her own choices? (yes.)

Did any of you, perhaps in preschool or kindergarten, since that's about the age when this happens, have someone pull your hair and for adults to say "it's because they like you?" I find this is a good way to convey the importance, or unimportance, or intent. Because when your hair is being pulled, at least if that is the extent of the problem, it doesn't matter if it comes from the misguided affections of a four-year-old admirer who doesn't know how to use their words, or a six-year-old who just grabbed the most obvious material with which to test the limits of the safety scissors, or an eleven-year-old bully. Your hair is being pulled and you want it to stop. It doesn't matter if the person secretly likes you or if they want to hurt you; it matters that no matter the intent behind it, they are doing so. And if you reject the affections of your fellow preschool classmate because you think they might pull your hair, that's a fair consequence.

Bells Hells' indecision is some sort of cosmic hair pulling. They have reasons for faltering, and some of those reasons are understandable balking at an immense weight placed upon them and some of those reasons come from a deeply self-centered place in which their individual pain is used to blot out the suffering of countless others. But in the end, even that doesn't matter. Their histories don't matter. We don't need another series of introductions of where they come from and what they've done. We need people who can make decisions and who will act.

The Raven Queen seems to have been convinced they will. I'm not sure. But I think we are in agreement that inaction is, regardless of the intent behind it, no different than active harm. It would be irresponsible to continue to be a party of NPCs; if they truly are lost and forgotten fuck-ups, they have a responsibility (as the god of death once did) to abdicate and find a replacement.

[criticallyacclaimedstranger]

My Place or Yours? [Joel x f!reader]

Read on Ao3

Ship: Joel Miller x you/f!reader

Tags/warnings: Reader doesn't like weddings, kissing.

Summary: You're being tortured at a wedding, but there is a man there who saves your evening.

Words: 1,550

A/N: This is written for the Summer Lovin' challenge by @pedgito, who also made the moodboard. I picked the theme 'wedding', which was a weird choice for me because I really hate weddings, but I got Joel to help me get through it. Enjoy!

”I now pronounce you husband and wife.”

Had those magic words only been the end of your misery, this day would have been easy-peasy. But no, you wouldn’t get off the hook that easily. It was only the beginning of an evening filled with awkward speeches, parental tears, and drunk best men giving dubious toasts.

You just don’t do weddings well. Anyone you ever talked to would tell you that it’s because you’ve been burned, because you’re single, ”once you find Mr Right you’ll start to plan your own wedding!”, et cetera, et cetera. Maybe that’s true, but with your disposition, it doesn’t seem likely that you’ll ever understand the point of paying hundreds of thousands of dollars for one single day during which both your parents get to watch you make out after a minister has sprinkled some magic words over the two of you. It’s just not in your nature. You never dreamed about a fairytale wedding when you were little, and you thought your friends would wise up when you got older, but no. As soon as the question was popped, they all reverted back to their childhood selves, and began planning as if for the event of the millennia.

You’ve been to three weddings these last few years, and it doesn’t get any easier. It’s embarrassing, lavish, awkward, and weird. And as always, you’re there without a partner, and must sit there with a fake smile plastered on your face, with no one to bitch to. At least you’re not the only single one at this wedding; that’s happened before, and even if you didn’t mind being single, you were definitely feeling blue when you got home that night.

At least dinner is good. This particular bride isn’t following any fad diets that she’s forcing on everybody, so you’re enjoying a really delicious three course meal. Still, what would a wedding dinner be without interruptions in the form of long, meandering speeches? You are forced to put down your cutlery one too many times, and by the time you’re finishing your delicious medium rare steak, it’s already cold. Chasing leftover sauce with a piece of bread, you nod encouragingly at the waiter asking you if you want more wine. You want to ask them to leave the bottle, but they probably wouldn’t find it funny.

Too tired to make polite conversation, you start to wait for the unofficial break between main course and dessert, when people get up to stretch their legs. It’s your opportunity to get away for a bit. You even have a modus operandi for it: you bum a cigarette from one of the smokers even though you’ve never smoked, go to the side, and pretend to smoke it for as long as you can. If the venue is nice, you then walk around and inspect it. This wedding offers a lot in that aspect: it’s a big house, almost a mansion, in the countryside, with a park and lots of smaller, old buildings on the premises. Perfect for hiding, and then you can just return back to the dining-hall late and blame getting lost.

When the break finally is announced, you let the smokers leave first. By the time they're greedily sucking on their cigarettes, you show up and ask for one. Cigarette in hand, and nod in agreement with the light conversation: yes, it was a beautiful ceremony, yes, the dinner is delicious, yes, the bride is so pretty and the groom so handsome. Eventually, you make a break for it, saying something about wanting to see the premises. So you walk away, flicking away the pillar of ash on your unsmoked cigarette.

The din of the house grows distant as you walk across the yard, shamelessly dropping the cigarette and crushing it with your foot before heading for the garden, quickly as if to escape the disgusting smoke. Once you reach the first, fragrant rose bushes, you start to relax. You find a bench and sink down on it with a relieved sigh. The light breeze smells of oleander, the birds are chirping, and it's pleasantly warm. Perfect.

You dig into your evening bag and check your phone. No messages, of course: most of your friends are at the wedding. Putting the phone away to instead enjoy the garden, you remain seated for a little longer than you know is considered polite. When you finally rise to go back, you notice someone approaching you. A man, around your age, a friend of the groom's, you think, but you've never talked to him.

"Hi," he calls out. "You okay?"

"Sure," you nod easily, "I just needed some air."

"A lot calmer here, isn't it?" He's standing in front of you now, all broad shoulders and narrow hips. Very handsome, but you're feeling defensive, and when your answer delays a little too long, he clears his throat.

"Sorry. Hi." He extends his right hand. "Joel. I'm a friend of Mark's."

You take his hand and give him your name. He doesn't let go immediately after shaking your hand.

"Nice to meet you." That smile. Goddammit, that's a charming smile. When his warm hand finally unclasps yours, you want to reach for it again.

"Can I help you, Joel?" you ask instead, trying to sound unperturbed.

"I saw you leave and wanted to make sure you were okay."

"Why wouldn't I be okay?"

He shrugs lightly, passing a hand over his hair. A curl bounces back to gently lick his forehead.

"You just looked like you weren't maybe having such a good time."

Well, shit. You thought you  had been keeping a straight face, but clearly you had failed. Your gaze flickers, and you clear your throat.

“Don’t tell anyone, but I’m not good at weddings.”

He chuckles low, but not maliciously.

“It shows.”

“Yeah, well, it’s hard to keep a straight face for all these hours,” you snap, a little harsher than intended. Joel holds his hand to his chest.

“Didn’t mean to offend you.”

You shake your head. “Don’t worry. We better get back before they send out a search party.”

“Hey, lemme make it up to you. Can I have the first dance with you?”

Frowning, you eye him, expecting him to be joking. But his gaze is open and honest.

“Sure,” you eventually smile. “Find me when the dancing starts.”

And so it is that after dessert and another couple of meandering speeches, after the bride and groom have danced their first dance, Joel finds you in the crowd. He leads you to the dancefloor with a steady hand, and when he puts his arm around your waist, you don’t mind that his hand comes to a rest a little lower than expected. He keeps eye contact, but not in a creepy way as he makes small talk, asking you about your life more than he talks about his own. He seems genuinely interested in you, and that makes your head swim more than the alcohol.

When the music changes to something more energetic, you pull him to the side.

“Not my cup of tea,” you explain, and he nods, seemingly happy with being off the dancefloor as people begin to shake their asses.

“A drink?”

“Sure.”

He takes you to the bar and you both get drinks. The bride and her bridesmaids are cheering loudly on the dancefloor, and the noise is beginning to wear you down.

“Let’s go out?” you suggest to Joel, who nods.

There are some people scattered around the yard, but the garden is empty. The smell of roses is even stronger now when the hour is late, and you notice that you’re actually enjoying yourself. Joel is so easy to talk to, you’re comfortable in his company, and he makes you laugh.

“Hey,” you finally say. “Thanks for not being weird about me not liking weddings.”

“Why would I be weird about it?” He sounds genuinely surprised.

“Because everybody loves weddings, and I just can’t,” you shrug, but with a hint of desperation in your voice. “And if you don’t like them, then you’re just bitter and probably in need of the right person to have your own wedding with.”

He’s quiet for a moment, sips his drink.

“I know I can keep a secret,” he starts, his voice low, “but can you?”

“I can.”

“I don’t like weddings, either.”

You stare at him for a moment before slapping his arm.

“You could’ve told me earlier!”

He laughs. “I know, I know, I’m sorry!”

“Asshole!” you blurt out, but can’t say more, because Joel’s lips are on yours, and you drop your glass on the gravel where it shatters, splashing liquor over your feet. And you don’t give a single goddamn. Your hands come up to his shoulders, pulling him closer, and you kiss him back, tasting the whiskey on him, a peppery twang from the steak he had earlier, the bristles on his face scratching your skin.

When you finally have to step back to take a breather, he licks his lips and looks at you with heavy-lidded, dreamy eyes.

“Not too soon?”

“No,” you shake your head, “Just perfect.”

He grins. “How soon d’you think it would be polite to leave?”

“I don’t care, we’ve suffered enough. My place or yours?”

[honeybeefae]

Making An Heir (Eris Vanserra x Reader)

KINKTOBER DAY THIRTEEN: BREEDING

Summary// The pressure from the advisors and members of the court for the two of you to produce an heir is high. It is all anyone can talk about and while you certainly enjoy the idea of having children, you don’t expect Eris to feel the same given his parental history. He has stayed mostly quiet on the subject until he catches you in the mirror with a pillow under your blouse, imagining what it would be like. 

(I know this is out of order for the Kinktober fic but so many of you guys requested it so enjoy it, you dirty little readers. Also thanks so much for the anon who suggested subspace bc that was so much fun to write! ;))

WARNINGS: 18+, smut, breeding kink, rough sex, dirty talk, subspace, dom!Eris, sub!Reader, cumming inside (pls wear protection), talk of pregnancy

You had been mated with Eris for five years now and it was like you were truly living for the first time. He was the center of your life, the ship in the middle of the ocean, the warm blanket you cuddled with at night. Life began and ended with him and you knew he felt the same way.

He spoiled you with anything you could ever want. Jewels, dresses, books, pets, anything your heart desired he would go find because he loved making you happy. You knew not every mated couple had such a good life, that sometimes fate was more than met the eye, but yours was truly meant to be.

Everything had been perfect in your lives…except for the last few months. The Autumn Court advisors had been prying into your private lives, pestering Eris on when he would produce an heir. It angered you every time it was brought up as they acted like it was your fault. As if you were the one who was refusing a child.

It couldn’t have been farther from the truth. You had wanted children with Eris since you first started courting, dreaming about the little red-headed babes running around your feet. Fae pregnancies were incredibly difficult on the body and were also rare, however, you had no fear. 

But you could not say the same for your mate. Eris avoided the subject like the plague. He would shut down his advisors with a simple wave of his hand and a frown while also doing the same with you.

You knew some of it was his own fears of fatherhood given how he was raised with Beron but you had assured him many times that he was not his father. Eris is ten times the man Beron was but he couldn’t seem to understand that. It was one of his worst fears to turn out like him.

Eris was also terrified of something happening to you. He had heard of what almost happened to Feyre, albeit her situation was a little different. What if he lost you? He didn’t have some magical gift from the Cauldron to bring you back. You would be gone forever and he would either be left alone or with a child who killed his mate, their mother. How could he love someone that did that?

The last two weeks had been full of tension as one of Eris’s brother’s wives had fallen pregnant, announcing it in court with an evil smirk on his lips. He knew exactly what he was doing by making such a public spectacle and you had had to force a smile the rest of the evening as everyone stared at you in judgment.

In their heads, you had only one job to do that you were currently failing at. This entire situation was weighing heavily on your shoulders but you did not want to force Eris into something he did not want. 

However, that didn’t mean you couldn’t wish for it still, did it? That you couldn’t desire it secretly in the quiet of your bedroom?  Eris was supposed to be gone for the day on a hunting trip, the first he’s taken in a month, so no one should be seeking you out until nightfall.

Your eyes landed on a soft pillow atop your shared bed, biting down on the inside of your cheek as you walked quietly over and grabbed it. There was no real need for you to be quiet but you still felt as if you were doing something wrong. You went back to the mirror in the corner of your room and stood in front of it, positing yourself to the side.

With one hand you lifted up your skirts and used the other to stuff the pillow inside it until it was settled against your belly, making it pop and give a lumpy shape of roundness. It didn’t look like a typical pregnant belly but the feelings that ran through you were all the same.

Sadness, pining, joy, pain, it was a cocktail of emotions that made your head spin. 

You began to imagine it as your real belly, of all the dresses you could have tailored and how Eris would kiss your stomach every morning and night. Would Eris like you like this? Would he be constantly wanting to touch you, rub you, or would he want nothing to do with you?

Minutes passed as you watched yourself in the mirror, rubbing the pillow as if it were real. You were so lost in your fantasy that you didn’t hear the heavy footsteps of your mate or the door opening.

“What are you doing?” His voice pierced through your imagination, making you jump and turn towards him.

“Eris, I-” You flounder over your words, cheeks heating up as he stares at you with furrowed brows. “I was just, I mean, Eris I’m sorry…”

“Is that a pillow?” You couldn’t tell if he was teasing you playfully or if he was genuinely upset. Either way, the embarrassment made you want to be swallowed by the floor. Quickly you yanked the pillow out from underneath your dress and held it behind your back, looking down at the floor.

“I know you don’t want kids. I know you don’t want to talk about it. I promise this isn’t a trick or anything I just wanted-” You explained, tears wetting your eyelashes as he came over to you and lifted your head up. 

“What did you want, my lady?” Eris murmured, amber eyes softening at how upset you were. “You can tell me.”

“It’s nothing. I don’t want to pressure you into anything.”

“Y/N.” His voice was stern, knowing that wasn’t the truth. 

“I just wanted to see what I would look like pregnant.” You whispered. “It was silly.”

“Do you want to be pregnant?” He asked you lowly, catching your eyes once more. “Is that what you want?”

You felt the words stuck in your throat as he stepped closer to you, caging you in his arms. When he found you thought that he was going to be angry or disappointed but this reaction was completely unexpected.

“My advisors have been hounding my back nonstop over this… predicament of  ours.” Eris continued on, the corner of his lip turning upwards. “Day after day, night after night. I had been worried you weren’t ready, that you would be terrified, and yet here I catch you doing this.”

“I-” You tried to interrupt but quickly shut your mouth when he grabbed your hips roughly, turning you around so that your back was to his chest and you were staring at yourself in the mirror.

“You what? Hm?” He taunted, intertwining your hand with his and slowly dragging it down your body. Goosebumps rose on your skin as his smoldering eyes never left yours, his pupils blown wide with desire. “You want me to fill you up with my cum, little fox? To pound into you like a beast takes his bitch? To breed you?”

Eris loved to talk like this in the bedroom and you weren’t ashamed to admit that you also loved it. The control, the domination, of his words made you melt and want to please him. And with the words he was saying about breeding you…it was no surprise that your pussy was clenching in anticipation.

“I asked you a question, Y/N. I expect you to answer.” Eris reprimanded, his lips ghosting the shell of your ear as his other hand came to circle around your throat. “Is that what my lady commands of her lord? To fuck an heir into her?”

Whiplash was the only thing that you could describe as feeling with how things were turning out. It was like a flip had been switched in him but you were already too drunk on lust to question it, nodding your head and whimpering.

“Yes, yes, sir.” You answered, groaning when he untangled his hand from yours and squeezed your breasts through your dress. “I…I want you to fill me up.”

“Breed you. You want me to breed you.” He corrected, pinching your pebbled nipple which had you squirming. “Say it.”

You swallowed thickly and looked at him through the mirror. 

“I want you to breed me, my lord.”

Eris grinned wickedly and turned you back towards him, wrapping your hair around his hand and pulling your neck back until it was almost at a ninety-degree angle.

“Well then, I suppose we better get started. Now.”

He was anything but gentle as he took the collar of your dress and ripped it with his bare hands, biceps flexing underneath the thin material of his shirt. You shivered as your body was exposed to the cool air. 

“On your hands and knees.” He orders, smiling when you immediately followed his command. Normally you would mouth off and be a little brat, asking for punishment, but tonight it seemed you were ready to be his good little girl. 

You turn to look behind you, feeling your wetness grow from the way he was devouring you with his eyes. Eris began to rid himself of his clothes, his cock standing at attention and ready to pump you full of his hot seed. He climbed behind you, his large hands running over the curve of your ass.

The bed dipped as he knelt on his knees, pushing the material of your panties to the side to unveil your dripping cunt. “I love how wet you get for me, Y/N,” Eris growled, licking his lips. “I’ve barely even touched you and you are already making a mess on these sheets.”

“I’m sorry, sir.” You whisper, not sure if he wanted you to apologize or not. He chuckled and ran a single finger down your pussy, collecting the juices and bringing them to his mouth.

“Look at my little fox using her manners.” He praised, moaning at the taste of you. “You want this badly don’t you?”

“Mhm.” You nod, taking in shaky breaths as you felt hot air on your lips. It was a wonder that your entire body wasn’t shaking with need at this point.

“Well what my lady wants, she gets.” Eris said before burying himself in your sex, his tongue flicking over your clit in quick swipes while his nose teased your hole. “Fuck you taste like heaven on my tongue.”

You could only whine in response, legs squeezing either side of his head as he feasted on you. He knew all the right speeds and ways to eat you out, how to make you sing in pleasure. Your arms were wobbling from the waves of pleasure he was giving you.

The room was filled with the filthy sounds of him slurping you up, one of his hands kneading your ass while the other stroked his cock. You could hear the wet sounds of him touching himself, making you even more delirious. 

“I want you to cum on my tongue, little fox.” Eris said firmly, taking your entire clit into his mouth and sucking. The action had you crying out in ecstasy, feeling like you were floating above your body as your entire body shook. 

He was always able to make you cum quickly because he took the time to know everything that made you tick, good and bad. Eris used it to his advantage many times and tonight was no different. You didn’t want this to be over so early but you also knew that tonight was special. This was going to be the first of many.

“Eris, ah!” You cried out, feeling that coil in you snap. He grunted in satisfaction when you started to mindlessly grind backward onto his face, your hands fisting the sheets. “It feels so good, sir.”

Every last drop of your cum went down his throat and his chin, his eyes closed in bliss. When you started to squirm from sensitivity he pulled back, holding the base of his cock and lining it up with your entrance.

“I’m going to breed you now,” Eris growled, not giving you a chance to recover as he thrust in until his balls slapped against your already tender clit. “And you are going to take it all, aren’t you?”

You didn’t answer fast enough, couldn’t answer, as you were still reeling from what he had just done. However, your mate had little patience and was quick to grab your hair once more, pulling it until you whined. 

“Yes, Eris, yes,” You stuttered, enjoying the slight burn coming from your cunt as he stretched you out. “I’ll take it all, I’ll be good.”

His eyes were almost completely black as he gave you a feral grin, pulling almost all the way out before stuffing you full. Your tits were bouncing with each thrust, your hair still wrapped around his hand as he threw his head back in rapture.

“I know you will. I know you will.” He cooed, pulling his head back to watch his cock go in and out. The sheets were indeed a mess underneath you, a giant wet stain that was only going to grow as the night went on. 

One of your hands went down and began to fiddle with your swollen clit, moaning loudly as he fucked you hard. Eris noticed and clicked his tongue, using the hand that had your hair and pushing your face into the mattress. 

“Look at you, already trying to cum again.” Eris jeered, his grip bruising on your hips. “My lady is just a desperate little whore, isn’t she? A little whore who wants to be bred, to carry my children and do it over and over and over again.”

Your cries were muffled as he laughed darkly, feeling the familiar tingle of his own orgasm creeping up his spine. “But she’s such a pretty whore…” He purred, letting go of your head to brush the hair out of your face. Your entire body was being jolted by the force of his body, and your mascara was smudged, but you were too high on your own lust to care. 

“Please, please, please, sir.” You babbled, bottom lip quivering. “I wanna cum, I want you to fill me up, please.”

He grunted and furrowed his brows, his long red hair sticking to his forehead from the sweat as he put all his concentration on your pussy. “You don’t get to cum right now, Y/N. I want you to hold it in for me.”

Eris’s thrusts grew sloppily as his balls tightened, picturing you with a swollen belly and heavy tits. It made his mouth water and he barely heard your pleas of mercy. You felt the first spurts shoot into you, his cum almost burning, and it made your entire cunt clench around his cock.

“Don’t you fucking cum.” He swore, groaning in pleasure as he emptied himself into your womb. You felt tears fall down your cheek, desperately craving that release. It was taking all the will of your body to not give in to what you wanted.

The sheer amount of cum was too much for you to contain and it leaked through the seal of your lips, dripping onto your legs and the bed. He gave two more thrusts before pulling out completely, admiring the way he left you gaping and gushing. 

“You did so well, little fox.” Eris commended, pushing two thick fingers inside you and scooping out the mixture of his seed and your juices. He flipped you onto your back with one hand, your hair sprawling around you as he held those fingers over your mouth. “Suck.”

With tears staining your cheeks you followed his orders, chest rising and falling quickly as you swallowed it like you knew he wanted. Eris’s eyes turned tender upon seeing you, breaking the facade briefly to capture your lips in a gentle kiss. You were grateful for it even though you were still aching for him to let you cum.

After a minute he pulled away, noticing you fidgeting. “Does my little whore want something? Was that not enough for her?”

You nodded shyly, eyes widening when he laid down beside you and then patted his lap. His cock was already hard once more, glistening in the firelight. You climbed onto his lap, looking down at him. 

“Well? What do you want?” He pressed, one of his hands resting on your hip while the other went to your cunt. Eris smirked as he pressed the pad of his thumb against your clit, enjoying the way you jumped. “You want to cum again? Greedy little girl.”

“I-” You tried to interject but shut your mouth when he suddenly lifted you up as if you weighed nothing, your hole hovering above the tip of his dick. 

“It is greedy, Y/N.” He cut you off. “If you want to cum again you need to say it.”

The words were on the tip of your tongue. Eris loved to make you say these things, to make you degrade yourself. It made you feel embarrassed but you also knew you weren’t going to get what you wanted if you didn’t.

“I”m a greedy little girl.” You murmured, sucking in a sharp breath as he thrust up slowly. Inch by inch he filled you again, both of your cum making it easy for him to slide in. “I want to cum again, to be filled up by you, sir.”

“Ride me then, Y/N,” Eris ordered, letting you bottom out and giving you a hardy smack on your ass. “Take what you want. Be a good girl and fuck yourself on my cock. Make yourself cum.”

Some people would think that this was a blessing, that he was giving you what you wanted, but it was far from the truth. You did love riding him, loved watching him watch you, but he knew as well as you did that you needed him to make you cum. You couldn’t do it yourself.

You began to bounce on him, hoping this time you might be able to do it without him, and moaned as he hit that spot deep inside you. Your hips rolled and breasts swayed with each rise and fall of your body, his amber eyes never leaving your face.

“That’s it, my little whore, ride your lord’s cock.” He snickered, noticing the frustration building within you. “Show me how badly you want it.”

The need in your stomach was growing like an inferno. You were fucking yourself with all your strength, both of your hands resting on either side of his body as you whimpered through your teeth and closed your eyes in concentration. 

“I want it, I want it, please sir.” You whined, your mind slowly slipping away from you as you seemed to stay on the edge of orgasm for hours. It was driving you insane. “Eris, Eris, I can’t. I need, I need-”

“What do you need, Y/N?” He cooed, smiling as your eyelashes fluttered and your hips finally slowed. His cock fell out of you and he knew you were getting into your subspace, something that made him feel tender and hungry at the same time. “Do you need my help?”

You barely had the coherency to nod, looking up at him with complete trust and want. “Please…”

He kissed your forehead and rolled you onto your back, lining up his cock and inching himself inside you once more. Both of his hands interlocked with yours and brought them above your head, keeping you still as he started a slow, hard rhythm.

You called out his name in ecstasy, enjoying the way his lips trailed over your neck and collarbone. “My sweet lady, so ready to take my cum and let me knock her up.” He breathed into your ear, pressing his forehead against yours.

“This is all you want, all you need, is my cock inside you.” Eris’s breaths were coming faster now, loving the way your walls fluttered around him. “You wanted to be bred and now you are. Your cunt is so full of me that you’ll be leaking for days, feeling it drip down your leg but it doesn’t matter because I’ll keep stuffing your pussy every night until this belly is round and tight.”

Your eyes rolled into the back of your head as you felt the crest of your orgasm coming up, your back arching off the bed as your throat burned from all the screaming you had been doing. All you could do now was whimper, your hands coming to circle around your neck as you babbled incoherently.

“Eris, please, I wanna, please,” You turned your head from side to side, eyebrows scrunching together. “Cum, let me, Gods, please!”

“Do it, Y/N.” Eris encouraged, moving his hips until he felt that squishy spot inside you that made you see double. “Cum for me, my little whore. Cum all over my cock, let that pretty pussy clench around me. Be a good girl.”

Everything around you went white and your ears began to ring as you came, your toes curling and back arching even further until you were sure you were going to snap in half. Your mouth was opened in a silent scream, letting your body succumb to everything your mate was giving to you.

The sight of you coming undone was enough for Eris to follow behind you, his mouth covering yours as he held himself still. It made his balls ache from how hard he was cumming, cursing loudly as he pulled away to bury himself into the crook of your neck.

“Take it, Y/N, fucking take it.” He growled into your neck. “Gods, you are so fucking tight on my cock.”

It took the both of you several minutes to catch your breath, Eris’s dick softening inside you as you struggled to come back to reality. He knew that this was rougher than normal, without any breaks, and he had probably pushed you to your limit. 

But he had no regrets. And neither did you.

You barely registered when he scooped you up and nuzzled you close to his chest, whispering sweet nothings as he carried you over to the bathroom. Eris knew he needed to clean you before you went to bed and while he was waiting for the bath to fill, he couldn’t stop himself from staring at your stomach and wondering if it stuck.

Either way, you two would definitely be doing this again. 

[sitp-recs]

do you have any recs for drarry + workplace romance?

I definitely do, one of my favourite tropes! This list is strongly focused on office romance and as you can see it got a bit out of hand so I’m gonna link two additional rec lists that might interest you: sports AU and Quidditch fics. Enjoy!!!

Measure My Lordship With Thine Vulgar Aye by @starquestingfordrarry (M, 1k)

Draco buys some Muggle magnets for the office.

Coded Office Missives by carpemermaid (E, 2.5k)

They had an arrangement. Malfoy would send a coded memo when he needed Harry. He knew to tell his secretary to hold his appointments, and lock the door after he arrived. It was a game they started when they were just starting their careers at the Ministry; it’s something they’ve kept up all this time.

The Keepers by RenVeree (T, 3.6k)

In the Rare Books Department of the Ministry of Magic, Draco tends to unique texts and, on occasion, a certain Unspeakable.

Graffiti and Insomnia by SilentAuror (M, 4k)

Harry can't seem to sleep these days. Perhaps it's the boredom of his office job, but all that changes with a bit of graffiti in the office bathroom one day.

Never Gonna Give You Up by InnerLilith (E, 5k)

Five times Harry rickrolls Draco and one time Draco gets him back.

Like This and Like This (Dreams of Lace) by @primavera-cerezos (E, 6k)

Harry gets an accidental peek. He can’t think of anything else.

Say the words / then stay around by Teatrolley (NR, 6k)

They’ve been together for a while when Harry decides that he wants to try the Auror Office again. What he doesn’t consider is the effects the work might have on the two of them. But, then again, maybe those effects don’t have to be all bad?

Interdepartmental Memos by GoldenTruth813, Henndra (E, 6k)

What do you get when GoldenTruth813 plays Harry and Henndra is Draco? An epistolary fic of course!

Contretemps by @moonflower-rose (T, 8k)

Draco Malfoy has been living like a model citizen. If only he could convince Potter.

Small Spaces series by @bixgirl1 (E, 8.5k)

Malfoy is like an itch under Harry's skin on an average day. It's even worse when they're trapped in a lift.

Love, Actually, is All Around by @punk-rock-yuppie (T, 10k)

It's Christmastime, and Harry has just started as the new Minister of Magic. It just so happens that Draco works in his office as well, a holdover from Kingsley's tenure. Naturally, love is in the air.

Settle in in my slow-burning heart, orphaned (NR, 10k)

Five years after the war Draco is working a tech developer job in the Auror Office, and it's all great except this one thing: Harry Potter works there, too. Things only become stranger when Harry starts bringing Draco ugly souvenirs back from his work travels.

Sweet Indulgence by @the-sinking-ship (E, 10k)

It doesn't matter that Marcy from Accounting is dancing on the tables, Shacklebolt is wearing antlers, and Elliot from Transportation is on his third round of Mariah Carey on karaoke because all the free champagne in the world won't salvage the Ministry Christmas party for Draco if Potter doesn't show up soon.

Little Talks by Femme and noeon (E, 11k)

Draco's been shagging the Head Auror for months now, and he's sure it's just a fling. Until Harry asks him to a Quidditch match, that is, and things go horribly wrong.

This Unexpected Windfall by mindabbles (E, 11k)

Harry doesn’t like it when Draco is called in to work one of his cases. No. He doesn’t like it at all — at least that’s what he tells himself.

Crossed Wires by @skeptiquewrites (E, 11k)

Harry James Potter, Member of the Wizengamot for Godric’s Hollow, Secretary for Transport is ill-suited for the world of wizarding politics. Enter Draco Malfoy, Director of Communications for the Minister for Magic to moonlight as his press secretary. It should solve all of Harry’s issues with the press and Draco’s issues with over-work. Theoretically.

What Real Thing? by @l0vegl0wsinthedark (E, 12k)

They don’t cuddle, they don’t talk about their relationship (or lack thereof) and they certainly never fall asleep in each other’s arms.

Title of Their Sex Tape by @cibeewastaken (T, 12k)

What are the Wizarding world's most elite law enforcers doing when they aren't catching criminals? It seems Auror Malfoy is often caught throwing food into Auror Potter's mouth when he's mid-yawn.

In Which Harry is Magnetic North and Draco Is An Idiot by bryoneybrynn (T, 13k)

For as long as he can remember, Draco’s been bringing fake dates to his family’s annual Yuletide celebration in order to evade his mother’s matchmaking. This year, Potter’s posing as his pretend boyfriend.

The World of Management (Or, Harry Potter and the Office Romance) by @moonflower-rose (E, 15k)

Draco Malfoy is the heart and soul of the Department of Magical Games and Sport. The only thing standing in the way of professional bliss is his boss. And Harry Potter.

Give Me a Quiet Mind by @wellhalesbells (T, 16k)

Draco is Weasley’s assistant. Except for the week he’s not. Whose brilliant idea was that again?

Ardour of Karma by @xx-thedarklord-xx (E, 17k)

“Malfoy knows something is going on with you and unless you both want to go back to fighting and death glares, you should fix it.” “How do I do that? Just waltz up to him and say, ‘I know I’ve been a prat but your scent makes my dick swell. How’s your day?’”

Common and Cliché by bryoneybrynn (E, 17k)

Aurors Malfoy and Potter have to work a case on Beltane. It would be simple if everything wasn't so damn distracting.... For those of you who are wondering, yes, I've tried to cram in as many h/d clichés as possible. But hopefully the story works as a story, too. It's not crack!fic by a long shot but it is a bit tongue-in-cheek.

Knot Your Average Coworkers by @thecouchsofa (E, 22k)

It takes Harry a while to work out that every month, almost like clockwork, Draco is given an assignment in the field that takes him out of their shared office for days on end. After each assignment, Draco returns looking so bloody exhausted that Harry gears up to file a complaint with their boss.

Little Red Courgette by @blamebrampton (T, 31k)

When this season's purple courgettes are woefully thin, Draco Malfoy thinks it amounts to small beans. Next thing he knows, the Department of Standards is over-run with leeks, Brussels sprouts all sorts of legislative difficulties, and somebody appears to have put a roquette under Harry Potter.

The Vanishing Department by @dictacontrion (E, 47k)

The things we lose have a way of coming back to us in the end, even if that involves a lot more form-filling, bickering, covert glancing, miscommunication, and flying furniture than we might expect.

The Darkness Before the Dawn by Ren (E, 55k)

A mysterious creature is loose in London, stalking and killing people. Auror Harry Potter requests the help of a liaison from the Beast Division and gets saddled with Draco Malfoy. Will they be able to stop the creature before it claims more lives?

We Are Young (I'll Carry You Home Tonight) by Femme (E, 70k)

Harry and Draco have been falling into bed on and off again since the last election five years ago, much to the amusement--and financial gain--of their circle of friends. But when Harry agrees to work with Draco to put Kingsley Shacklebolt into the Minister's office, they can't work side-by-side again every day and sleep together; that would be courting disaster. Wouldn't it?

The Liars Department by @dorthyanndrarry (T, 103k)

This is a story about Harry meeting up with Draco Malfoy four years after the war. And a story about Harry, well, not hating his job per say, but it's not like he has much to compare it to and it seemed fine. His whole life seemed fine.

Make This Leap by @oflights (M, 118k)

Harry owns a struggling restaurant which is running out of money, and his Head Chef has just handed in notice. He's at a bit of a loss as to what to do until Narcissa Malfoy presents an obvious solution: bring in Draco Malfoy as Chef and part owner.

All Our Secrets Laid Bare by firethesound (E, 149k)

Over the six years Draco Malfoy has been an Auror, four of his partners have turned up dead. Harry Potter is assigned as his newest partner to investigate just what is going on.

Tales From the Special Branch series by Femme (E, WIP)

When Gawain Robards asks him to form Special Branch seven-four-alpha, Harry Potter knows they'll have to work outside the confines of the law--even though they are the law.

[ginnsbaker]

Bulletproof (3/?)

Part Summary: But she just keeps on murmuring, lost in her dream. You try to make sense of her muffled words, but it's hard. And then, out of nowhere, she sighs your name. It's not loud, but it's filled with a kind of longing. Your heart skips a beat. She's dreaming about you. 

Or the one where Wanda accidentally pulls you into a very vivid dream

Chapter word count: 2.8k+ | Tags: Slight Somno, Explicit Dream Sharing, Sharing A Bed, Mutual Pining, Maybe Resolved Sexual Tension | Ship: Wanda Maximoff x Gender Neutral Reader

Author's notes: I have no explanation for this, Your Honor.

Series Masterlist

-

The sleeping arrangement becomes less complicated following your return to Wanda’s room, days after you splurged on a hotel suite.

It’s less complicated in a sense that Wanda did away with the pillow barrier and began sleeping on the bed with an ease, almost as if you weren't there. While you found her newfound nonchalance puzzling, you've learned your lesson about making assumptions. After the recent embarrassment, you've become more careful about reading too much into things.

But with the pillow gone, so too was Wanda's warmth that you'd grown accustomed to when you first started sharing her space. 

The soft "good morning" greetings, ones that used to set a gentle tone for the day, disappeared. Most mornings, she's up before you, the other side of the bed cool to the touch. On the rare occasion you do wake up before her, you hustle through your morning routine, eager to vacate the space. You hope this gives her the peace of a bathroom unoccupied and the luxury of starting her day in solitude, without the need to navigate around someone else in her sanctuary.

However, as days meld into one another, you notice that Wanda's behavior has reverted to how it was in the beginning–not cold, but seemingly indifferent. The occasional smile she throws your way feels more like a courtesy, perhaps an acknowledgment for saving her life, rather than a desire to be your friend. When you talk, the conversations remain on the surface, never diving deep. Gone are the days of sharing little secrets, dreams, or thoughts; now, the chats are cordial, almost scripted.

She said everything was okay, but it sure doesn't feel like it. That awkward moment with her pillow keeps replaying in your mind. Every silence between you two makes you wonder if you really did make her uncomfortable.

As the day wraps up, you get into bed and notice Wanda's already asleep, facing away. You let out a deep sigh. You can't keep avoiding the topic. Listening to her steady breathing, you decide: tomorrow, you'll talk to her and try to fix things between you two.

-

Except, something unexpected happens in the middle of the night.

Still deep in slumber, Wanda drifts over to your side, her leg carelessly resting on yours as she nestles closer, with your arm inadvertently near her chest.

From your time sharing the bed, you've come to understand that Wanda can sleep soundly through almost anything.

Yet, as you carefully attempt to wriggle out from beneath her embrace, wanting to give her more space, it has the opposite effect. Wanda's grasp tightens, pulling you closer. Before you can fully comprehend the shift, she's straddling your thigh. A sudden heat radiates from her core, making contact with your leg, and an involuntary gasp escapes your lips.

In her deep slumber, Wanda starts to murmur softly, words flowing in Sokovian. Her voice, hushed and sultry even in sleep, becomes the most tantalizing sound you've ever heard.

You can feel the faint brush of her lips against your neck, sending ripples of anticipation down your spine. Her fingers begin to dance lightly across your exposed abdomen, each touch igniting a spark that makes you swallow hard. This is uncharted territory, teetering on a delicate edge. 

Overwhelmed, you can only manage a soft, “Wanda?” hoping it might wake her up.

But she just keeps on murmuring, lost in her dream. You try to make sense of her muffled words, but it's hard. And then, out of nowhere, she sighs your name. It's not loud, but it's filled with a kind of longing.

Your heart skips a beat. She's dreaming about you. 

But before you can articulate what this means, an arresting image takes shape in your mind: the bed beneath you creaking softly as Wanda, devoid of any garments, moves atop you. Her head is thrown back, a cascade of her hair tumbling down her back, her face etched with raw emotion. The soft, dim light of the room captures the gentle curve of her breasts, her erect nipples, rising and falling in time with her rhythmic movements. Each bounce, each motion pulls you deeper into the vision.

It must be Wanda's powers. Steve once tried to explain the intricacies of her abilities, but all you gathered was that she could craft intense illusions in one's mind.

You never imagined you'd experience it firsthand. Especially not in such a... provocative manner.

As quickly as that consuming image formed in your mind, it's torn away, leaving you breathless and disoriented. You feel a rhythmic motion against your leg. It's Wanda. The dampness of her panties seeps onto your skin, unmistakably warm and wet. Each subtle movement of her hips sends a tangible pulse through the both of you. 

In your desperation, you whisper, “Wanda?” trying to pull both of you from the heated dream world. But as you reach out to her, another overwhelming image infiltrates your thoughts.

This vision is even more raunchy. Wanda's thighs frame your view, her glistening core just inches from your face. You can see every detail: the way her soft folds part for you, inviting, enticing. Hesitantly, your tongue reaches out, sinking into her.  The scent of Wanda, both heady and sweet, envelops you. A moan escapes your lips, relishing that first taste—you from the dream and quite possibly, the real you. You delve deeper, your tongue exploring, stretching her, teasing every sensitive spot. With each push of your tongue, Wanda gasps, her moans getting louder. She rides your face with abandon, grinding down against you, chasing her pleasure. 

The vision recedes, much like the previous one, leaving behind an unsuspecting Wanda nestled against you.

The line between what's real and what's in your mind becomes dangerously thin. Wanda's fingers clutch at your waist with a desperate strength as she grinds fervently against your leg.  

You can't help but let out a moan, “God, Wanda…” The pleasure is as much yours as it is hers.

Any caution, any reservations you held onto, start to slip away.

Your thigh instinctively rises, pressing tighter to Wanda, matching the urgency of her grind. Her breathy moans become more desperate, and you can feel the tension in her body as she gets closer.

“Ah, Y/N…” Wanda hisses, and for a moment, you think she has finally woken up. But when you risk a glance down, her eyes are still firmly shut, the rocking motion of her hips becoming more frantic.

The tension builds, and soon Wanda's entire frame stiffens. As she crests the wave of her climax, you can feel her wetness, warm and abundant, seeping through onto your leg. The sharp bite on your shoulder punctuates the moment, her moan echoing softly in your ear.

As her tremors subside, Wanda's weight presses into you more heavily, her chest heaving against your side. You can't help but glance at the evidence of her release smeared on your leg. On an impulse, you gather the moisture with your fingers, hesitating just for a brief second before tasting her. The slightly sweet, unmistakably intimate taste causes a shudder to travel through your body. The throbbing heat between your own legs becomes nearly unbearable, making you shift restlessly beneath her.

Wanda rolls away, and suddenly, it's like a splash of cold water hits you. You just lay there, staring up at the ceiling, thinking, what the hell just happened. The warm fuzziness from earlier turns to guilt. You can't help but wonder if you crossed a line, even if it was all so unintentional. 

You can't take the weight of it any longer. Every second on that bed, every rustle of the sheets is a cruel reminder. Quietly, you slip out of the bed, taking one last glance at Wanda, her form peaceful, oblivious to the storm inside your head.

The cold floor greets your feet as you head towards the door. Your steps echo, each one sounding heavier than the last. The corridor outside seems darker than you remember, but maybe it's just your mood. You keep your head down, not wanting anyone to see the guilt written all over your face.

The door to your cell looms ahead, and entering feels like you're punishing yourself, willingly locking yourself away. But in some twisted way, it feels like what you deserve right now. The cold walls seem like old friends, and the thin mattress beckons you to lie down. The bite on your shoulder pulses with every heartbeat, and you hug your knees close, trying to find solace in the dark. 

The hope now is that sleep, if it eventually comes, will help you find clarity or at least forget, if only for a few hours.

-

The next morning, Wanda stirs, her hand lazily reaching out to the space next to her, expecting to meet warmth. Instead, the sheets are cold, the bed emptier than she remembered.

Yawning, she stretches her limbs, and that's when she feels it – the discomfort between her legs. The sticky reminder of her dream. Her face turns crimson, and she's momentarily taken aback, but soon gratitude takes over as she realizes you're not there to witness her state.

Shuffling out of bed to freshen up, the water from the showerhead splashing on her helps clear her head. Yet, as much as she tries to banish the thoughts, the memories remain persistent. Since the day she walked in on you with her pillow, an image has planted itself firmly in her mind. The visual of your naked form, vulnerable, lost in pleasure—it was an image she couldn’t shake off. 

Wanda has been skillfully evading you for days. While shared spaces in the facility meant you were bound to cross paths, Wanda became remarkably adept at staying out of sight. You'd walk into the dining area, she'd just be leaving. You'd be heading to the training room, and she'd abruptly turn, murmuring about forgetting something.

It's not that she's afraid of confrontation. It's the exact opposite. She fears the pull she feels toward you, the visceral need to close the distance. And with the memory of that day—of catching you so intimately involved with her pillow—she fears she might not be able to control herself. The trajectory your relationship has taken prior, the slow-build of a bond, was at a dangerous tipping point. All it might take is one lingering gaze, one innocent touch, and she worries that restraint would crumble.

(She believes she's keeping her feelings hidden, contained within her, but the truth is, they already surfaced in the most unexpected way. If only she knew.)

-

Throughout the day, you remain conspicuously absent from the usual spots in the compound, making Wanda's self-imposed avoidance unexpectedly effortless.

Wanda tries not to think about it too much, assuming you were called away on a mission.

-

As the night deepens, Wanda finds herself glancing repeatedly at the door, anticipating your return. She adjusts the sheets, fluffs the pillows, and even listens for any signs of movement outside her room.

But the hours tick by, and you never show.

-

As another day passes and another night comes, Wanda's worry deepens. Every night, she finds herself waiting, hoping you'd walk in. But you never do. Unable to stand the suspense any longer, she finally turns to Vision, the only person in the compound who always seems to know where everyone is.

“Vision?” she begins hesitantly, catching him in one of the quiet hallways. 

Vision blinks at her, his eyes briefly flickering in that peculiar way of his, as though processing data. “Wanda,” he begins, his tone always measured, “What do you need?”

"It's about Y/N. Have you seen them? They haven't been back to my room in days," she blurts out, a little more desperately than she intended.

Vision pauses, analyzing for a moment. “I have noticed that they've been spending a significant amount of time in their old cell. They've mostly remained isolated.”

Wanda's heart sinks. The thought of you confining yourself to that cold, lonely cell pricks at her heart. “Did something happen? Did they get a mission or…”

Vision interrupts gently, “No mission, Wanda. As far as I'm aware, they've chosen to stay there.”

Wanda's throat tightens, the realization that her behavior might have indirectly pushed you away, making her nauseous.

“Thank you, Vision,” she says softly, her voice wavering slightly. 

She needs to find you, to talk things through, to clear the air.

Whatever it takes to pull you once again out of that goddamn cell.

-

You're there, curled into a tight ball, deep in slumber when Wanda finds you just moments later. The soft rise and fall of your chest is the only indication of life in the otherwise still cell.

Wanda pauses at the doorway, taking in the sight of you. Her eyes slide over your arms, noticing the muscle lines even in sleep. She looks up to your face, which seems so calm and quiet. Your lips are just slightly open, and she wonders what you might be dreaming about.

But then the reality of the scene hits her. 

The cold, unyielding floor you're sleeping on, the way you've curled up, trying to find some comfort where there's none. It’s a far cry from the soft bed upstairs, and a pang of guilt hits her hard. She’s been so focused on avoiding you, she didn’t think about where you'd end up. 

This isn’t right, and deep down, she knew it. 

With cautious steps, Wanda approaches you, her fingers itching to reach out and pull you into her arms. But she resists, instead crouching beside you. 

“Y/N,” she whispers gently, placing a hesitant hand on your shoulder, giving it a light shake.

You stir, eyelids fluttering open to meet her concerned gaze. For a brief second, confusion paints your features, but as recognition dawns, you sit up abruptly, creating distance.

“Wanda? What are you doing here?”

She takes a deep breath, looking a bit anxious. “We need to talk.”

You shuffle backwards as Wanda catches the slight distance in your eyes, realizing that her recent coldness has probably hurt you more than she thought.

You say nothing and hug your knees to your chest, half of your face hidden from Wanda.

She hesitates, and then slowly says, “I know why you've been hiding in here.”

Your eyes widen in shock. Images flash before your eyes, moments from that night replaying, guilt flooding you once again. “Look, Wanda, I know what I did, and... and that's why I'm here,” you stutter out, pointing to the bleak surroundings of the cell. “It's where I deserve to be.”

Wanda, however, looks perplexed. “Wait, what are you talking about? I'm here because I've been... avoiding you. And you've been avoiding me… hence, you coming back to this cell, right?” She genuinely seems unaware of what you're alluding to, which only confuses and surprises you more.

Shit.

Now it's you who have to explain.

But you remain mute, eyes darting everywhere but at the wary girl in front of you.

“Y/N,” Wanda prods. 

You're convinced that this is it. Surely, with the power she possesses, she'd obliterate you right here and now for crossing such a line. Because you have no choice now but to tell her the truth.

“I…” You hesitate, taking a deep breath, trying to find the right words to confess your sin. “That night you came close to me in your sleep... I woke up to it, to you... acting out your dream on me.” Your face flushes as you meet her gaze, expecting disgust or anger. “I didn't stop it, Wanda. I should have woken you up, pulled away, but I didn’t. I... I let it happen. I’m so sorry.”

Wanda's eyes go wide, and her cheeks flush a bright red. “You... you did what?” 

You'd think her tomato-red cheeks were cute if the situation wasn't so mortifying. But right now, it's clear she's grappling with what you just said. She stammers, trying to find her words. “I... I had no idea.”

For a brief moment, memories of waking up with a sticky sensation between her legs and remnants of a vivid dream about you come flooding back. Wanda never thought she'd acted on it, not in reality. The realization is mortifying, but also, she can't help the faint flutter of excitement that twists in her stomach, thinking about how you let it happen. 

“I... I can't believe it,” she whispers, torn between embarrassment and something… forbidden.

For a drawn-out minute, neither of you shifts. It's as if you're both frozen, trapped in the aftershocks of your confession and Wanda's conflicting reactions to it. But before either of you gets the courage to make the first move, the cell door clangs open loudly. 

Both of you jump, startled by the sudden intrusion.

Steve Rogers strides in, looking relieved. “There you are, Y/N. And Wanda?” His brows raise in surprise, likely not expecting to find the two of you in your old cell.

“I have some good news. Wanda, you can have your room to yourself from now on.”

Wanda blinks, looking both relieved and disappointed. But before she can voice any of it, Steve turns to you with a small smile. 

“Because Tony has now assigned yours.”

[gentlebeardsbarngrill]

01/15/2024 Crew Recap

Hey all, today has been a very very very long day. I’m typing this with my eyeballs glazed over and half open. However, so much has happened in such a little amount of time I wanted share a few things before I pass out I know a lot of you are in different timezones, are busy with life, and taking a break, so maybe this will help with parsing through some of the crazy stuff the crew has been up to.

The petition hit 50K, and is at 52.5K at the moment

Fundraisers: I didn’t even realize there were two different fundraisers for Palestine/Gaza going on but we blew both out of the water. (Note: the second picture is from a November campaign but I think its just as important to highlight— ty for the correction anon!)

The Emmys hashtag turn out was great tonight. There was some pretty amazing and creative stuff going on across all the platforms. Some can be seen on IG, but if you wanna see the majority of it, check out twitter #SaveOFMD #75thEmmys

---We have new ways of protesting and advocating for our show, see here for the thread on tumblr (from twitter):---

And to support that @saltpepperbeard was kind enough to put together a wonderful guide on how to Call It Through as a Crew: Alleviating Some Phone Anxiety which as someone who is socially anxious and sometimes verbally vomits on people when on the phone, is AMAZING and thank you so much for doing that to help.

-- > There is also this new thread on some new places to call into. Don't quote me on that being an official thing we should do, I'm sure @renewasacrew and others will have more in the AM, I just wanted to share it so people could follow if they wanted to.

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

New Articles!

Our Flag Means Death: Here’s why season three deserves to be aired

Petition to save BBC show with rare Rotten Tomatoes score gets 50,000 signatures

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There's so much more that's happened today-- but I can't write it all down because my brain is couscous.

<---So instead, I'm going to use this last part to gush over you all and your amazing contributions in all your unique ways. The community support the last few days has been SO INCREDIBLY UPLIFTING.-->

I saw (and experienced) people reblogging asks where random followers, anons, and mutuals just reached out and sent love because they could tell people were struggling.

I've seen comments all over the place on Tumblr, IG, Twitter, and Facebook where each and every person is encouraging each other to speak their mind, or complimenting their artwork, encouraging them if they were feeling uncomfortable with things outside their comfort zones, coming up with new and exciting ways to fight back, people reaching out to the cast/crew just to say hi and remind them we love them.

I've seen Self-Care checkpoints all over, reminding people to drink water, take a break, block your notifications for a while, not engaging in negative behavior.

I've seen people being so nice on instagram posts that the people who were being dicks about all our comments turned around and decided to watch OFMD!

I saw so many people doing new analysis of scenes and characters, and having really deep and friendly discussions that make everyone think in new ways.

I saw people digging through old tumblrs to bring life back to old posts and artwork.

I saw so much NEW artwork, new FICS! New GIFS! So much new art and love!

I could literally go on and on, but I've just...I had to dump this out of my brain otherwise I'd explode. I've just seen so much today that continues to make me so proud of our little safe space ship and so happy to be apart of this community.

You all continue to be the best of the best of humans, and I am so very grateful to get to witness and be apart of it. Rest up lovelies and have a good day / night, wherever you may be. May you dream of sexy middle-aged gay men kissing, or hugging, or whatever else you want them to be getting into.

[the-music-maniac]

I think what drives me a little crazy (in a good way) about zosan as a ship is - ironically - that they're willing to do the worst possible thing, to sacrifice, for a necessary goal unrelated to their relationship. By that I mean that a common romance trope is an individual being willing to sacrifice the world, anything and anyone else, for their lover, and zosan is...not that. And for some reason that drives me more feral than that other romance trope ever possibly could. I find that more romantic than "I would burn the world for you" and I'll explain why.

The root of their specific willingness to sacrifice isn't a shortage of love or care by any means, but a complete trust and understanding of each other. To the absolute core of who they are. I'm going to refer specifically to that agreement between zosan (that I got spoiled on, so apologies if I get details wrong, I haven't gotten there in the story yet - ALSO spoiler warning if you haven't gotten to around Wano, so click away).

.

.

.

I'm referring to Sanji telling Zoro to kill him if he changes after his stint in Germa, and Zoro agreeing without need for an explanation, telling Sanji to survive until then - that is so fucking romantic to me, and people hold it up as proof that they don't care about each other but to me, it's anything but.

There is a burden of duty to being the wings of the pirate king, and they both take that responsibility seriously. They're both devoted to their captain and to their crew, and to the dreams of their crew. Zoro perhaps more outwardly unwaveringly so, but Sanji is devoted too, different from Zoro but equal in intensity. There are moments when you can TELL they're on the same wavelength, moments where Zoro gives a rare speech on the dynamics of their crew and Sanji is silent because he agrees. Sanji is terrified of hurting his found family, and he's terrified of becoming like his brothers and father. He loves his nakama and so he's willing to sacrifice his own life to prevent from turning into that type of monster.

Zoro is similar. He is willing to die for his nakama, and their dreams. They are in complete understanding of that point. Death itself is not something that scares either of them, there are some things that are worth the price. Potentially for different reasons ahem self worth issues ahem Sanji ahem but that's still something they both understand. Zoro would sacrifice himself in a heartbeat to save Sanji (he already has at Thriller bark), Sanji would do the same (again. Thriller bark), so it's not remotely because they don't care or love each other. They are absolutely willing to give all they are to keep each other from outside harm.

But what happens if the threat to the crew is Sanji himself?

Sanji asks Zoro to be the one to kill him, because Zoro is the only one on the crew who he trusts 100% to do so, to fulfill the promise, who understands. I personally think Luffy would try to save his nakama, even beyond what is possible, at his own detriment. The other crew members would probably do the same (then again I'm still not through the show so feel free to disagree with my interpretation).

But Zoro could do it if it came to that. It would be awful, and it would shatter and change him, irreversibly, heartbreakingly so - I don't agree with people who say Zoro would kill his nakama without hesitation and be fine with it out of loyalty to his captain, Zoro has a heart y'all and he loves his crew - but he could grit his teeth and do it if he realizes it is necessary, that there is no other option. Sanji trusts him to keep his word, to protect the rest of their family. Do you know how telling it is about the level of regard you have for your partner, to trust them to the point where you can easily place the well being of almost all you both treasure into their hands, once you realize you can't be the one to protect it anymore, and know without a shadow of a doubt that it'll be safe as long as it's with them? With knowing they're strong enough to accept the heavy burden of having your blood stain their hands for the rest of their life, the blame for your death on their shoulders, the shadow of you in every single thing they do, inescapable and marking every facet of their life forever? And to trust that they'll not only accept those consequences without hesitation because it's what you asked of them, but will also protect what you both treasure until their last breath, without you even needing to EXPLAIN that that's what you're asking to them to do, because it's the obvious, it's what you've both been doing all this time, it's something you both know so well that no words need to be exchanged, no reassurances need to be given.

And the implication of Sanji wanting Zoro to do this task too, of being okay dying by Zoro's hands because they're equals in every way. Especially since their fighting dynamic is mostly a competitive, I'm stronger than you, I'll never lose to someone as weak as you, blah blah. This is proof that that's not what Sanji and Zoro actually think of each other. Sanji knows that they could kill each other if either of them truly tried for one - wouldn't have asked Zoro to kill him otherwise. Sanji is also fine with Zoro being the one to defeat him. There is an inherent (kinda fucked up) romance to that notion. 'If I have to die, let it be by your hands.'

And on Zoro's part, there's an inherent fucked up romance to keeping your lover close forever because your fingers are stained with the necessity of their blood.

fUCK.

(here is a caveat that I'm viewing this in a scenario where Sanji and Zoro have established that they love each other and are potentially in a relationship. If it's before that you could also flavour it with Sanji's "I love him but I think it's unrequited, actually I think he may hate me, so it would hurt him the least to be the one to kill me" which is JUICY, but just for this post I'm viewing it where they've already established that they're valuable to each other, that they care)

How am I supposed to look at that and not fucking die. It's so much more nuanced and romantic to me personally than "I would burn the world for you" because that trope at its core is a selfish sort of protection. I can 100% see how people find it romantic, don't get me wrong, I'm not judging you if you like that trope, that's so valid. It's "I can't live without you" and "I would choose you above all others" which is romantic, but it's romantic in a different way. Depending on the characters, it's also, I would go to extremes to make sure you're alive, even if there's nothing else left after the carnage except for each other, even if everything else that makes life worth living has been destroyed for survival, and we can only ever rely on each other for the rest of time. I only care about you but not anything else you care about. I won't try to save it, even if you tell me to, even if you want me to, and won't forgive me for all I've done because I can't bear the burden of you not being alive and around anymore.

I get why it's compelling, but that trope could ignore (depending on how it's written) everything else that person could hold dear. Ignores potentially, the agency of the person being protected, a character who could have accepted the consequences and have not wanted the world to burn for their sake, who is strong enough for that burden. And true, maybe the character isn't like that, maybe they just want simply to live a life (valid of them, people are allowed to want happy endings for themselves), but my point is, it's a different archetype of romance for a different archetype of character, but it seems to be more accepted as a romantic trope then zosan's dynamic and I think it shouldn't be that way.

Zosan is the opposite. It suits their character type perfectly. For them, it's "there are things that are worth more than even you and me. I love you, knowing who you are and how you view the world and what other things you value. I love you everyday on purpose, not hopelessly or illogically or blindly, even knowing you may not always choose me. I'm willing to accept the pain of that, just to be next to you. The time we share isn't any less valuable for being fleeting and impermanent. I care about the things you care about and our lives are also worth living because of those things. It would tear me apart irreversibly to hurt you, but I would do it if you asked it of me, I would do it if that's what this life demands of us. I know you can protect what we both love, even if I'm not beside you. I respect your choices. In this, we understand each other perfectly."

THAT is my shit. That's the fucking deranged ass bs that has me staring at my ceiling at 3 am, pacing the floors at 6 in the morning, gnawing on conkcrete like a rabid dog. Brain rot brain rot brain rot.

[uhnoobuhhs]

My thoughts on these last two episodes:

Though things seems to have gone back to what they were, I believe they are also completely different at the same time.

Because although being a vampire was Guillermo’s dream, I think in the years he’s spent with the vampires, the main reason he wanted to be turned was so he could be considered a valued part of the team

He wanted the vampires to see him like family, to care about him the way he does for them.

And that’s come true, all the vampires care and love and worry for Guillermo now.

They all demonstrated this in their own different ways this season:

from Laszlo actively trying to help Guillermo, showing up at his motel to apologize for not being as helpful (which was actually very sweet of him) to that final scene with Derek

to Nadja taking Guillermo to the vet and protecting him from being harmed

To Colin stopping by the motel to give Guillermo a farewell gift.

They all were worried about him. They all didn’t want him to get killed, that’s why they kept his secret despite knowing how hurt and upset Nandor would be. It’s such a three sixty from the beginning of the series. The found family vibes really made me want to cry in the best way.

(But since I am a huge nandermo shipper I saved my Nandor points for last because I’m gonna dive in DEEP)

I knew that we wouldn’t get a love confession this season, I believe that Guillermo will either be turned into a vampire in a last ditch effort to save his life (hopefully by Nandor)

Or he’ll eventually change his mind and ask Nandor again to be turned and I think if he were to ask again (after everything that’s happened) I think Nandor would do it if he believed Guillermo was sure.

Guillermo did mention to Nandor at the fake ceremony that he really still wanted to be a vampire. (So who knows I wanna keep hope alive)

But overall, I loved this season.

We got a rare peak behind the curtain at Nandor.

He not only deeply cares for Guillermo and can’t imagine losing him but he also knew all along that Guillermo was not ready to be a vampire.

(Remember that scene in s3 where Nandor tells Guillermo that vampirism is a curse? And that he cared too much about him to do that to him?)

The fact that Nandor memorized Guillermo’s letter to him when they first met just speaks volumes about how much he actually loves Guillermo.

Nandor has grown so much this season, it was so refreshing to see. I mean all those self help books really paid off. Cause, not only did he set his own hurt feelings aside and forgave Guillermo despite how important loyalty and honor are to him but

he also didn’t act impulsively when it came to Guillermo transitioning. He let Guillermo experience vampirism and observed his reactions and emotions before stepping in.

(I hope we continue to see more character growth like this and that hopefully in s6 we finally get some romantic plot for these two because fuck I’m in too deep to quit this show/ ship lol)

[cuubism]

Hope for the Future

~2k, Dreamling, 1589 era, post-Eleanor's death, dream conversations and revelations. cw death in childbirth

Dream and Hob meet at Eleanor's deathbed, in a fashion.

--

Ages ago I wrote Patron Saint, a fic about Hob's friendship with Death. For a while I wanted to write a companion piece from Dream's POV since Dreamling is a background ship in that fic but their trajectory is different from canon. But lbr it's been 2 years and I haven't done that-- early on, though, I did write one scene from Dream's POV because I wanted to flesh out a potential moment that Death mulls on in Patron Saint, when she was visiting Hob after Eleanor and the baby died:

“So many babies die,” Hob says. “Mothers, too, I—” he runs a hand through greasy, disheveled hair. “Do you think it will be better in the future? Because I haven’t seen that much improved. Not in my time.” “I imagine so, yes,” Death says. Dream would be able to answer this question for him better. Dream would be able to tell him what doctors might be imagining solutions to the problem, what midwives were dreaming of new ways to care for their charges. Hope for the future is Dream’s business, whether he accepts it or not. She wishes Dream were here. She has a strong feeling Hob would find even his stoic pretense at apathy comforting. Caring for others is strange like that.

Anyway I wanted that scene, I wrote that scene, I didn't write anything else to flesh out a companion piece but I think it stands on its own and can be understood even without reading the original fic.

--

Dream would assert that he did not care about Hob Gadling. He was not interested in Hob Gadling, beyond a passing curiosity in his approach to humanity, sated every hundred years. He was certainly not thinking about Hob Gadling, or his wife and small child and knighthood and other life goals he’d managed to accrue in this century. 

And yet, as he felt a particularly vicious nightmare go for Hob in his sleep, not long after their last meeting, he took note. 

He wasn’t sure why he took note. Perhaps because Hob had been on such a disgusting high last they’d met, it seemed strange for this to happen now. Perhaps because he knew this nightmare particularly well, had crafted it from deep in his own soul, as he so rarely did.

He followed the thread of the nightmare. 

Hob was running. Both from and after something at once. A darkness chased him. And another darkness retreated from him.

“Wait!” he yelled, reaching for it. Smoke slipped through his hands. Hob heaved for breath, stumbling to a stop as he ran out of air. He leaned on his knees, panting and coughing. “Wait,” he sobbed, but the darkness did not wait.

The other wave of darkness caught him, knocking him off his feet so he sprawled on the ground, hands scraping on the dirt. It didn’t attack him, just hovered over him like a blanket of fog, blocking the meager light. 

“You weren’t supposed to go,” Hob said into the darkness. It didn’t reply.

It was not an unreasonable nightmare for a father to have, Dream knew well enough. But the sharpness of those dark shadows – this nightmare was not pure fiction. It was drawing more from memory than he’d thought.

“Enough of this drama,” he commanded the nightmare. “Show me the truth of things.”

The scene of darkness faded to reveal an ordinary, if well-appointed bedroom. An air of sickness hovered, and death also – Dream could feel the echo of his sister near. 

A sickly woman, heavily pregnant, lay in the bed, and it was she that Dream knew was calling Death forth. She, and the tiny baby cradled in her womb, not quite ready to be born, and now would never be.

And Hob – not dying, he couldn’t, but he looked about as close to it as a man could come. Ashen, shaky, trembling.

“I love you,” he was saying, kissing Eleanor’s hand. “You know?”

This was still a dream, and this had all already occurred, Dream knew. There was nothing he could do here, not that he would. He turned to go, feeling stiff and cold in a way he decidedly did not like, when Hob looked up, and saw him.

Dream had not meant to be seen.

“My friend,” said Hob, surprise temporarily wiping the grief from his features. “You’re here.”

“I… am,” Dream conceded, and, drawn in despite himself, sat in a chair beside Hob. 

“I’m grateful for it,” said Hob. Dream didn’t know what he could possibly be providing that Hob was grateful for. Then, “There’s no hope, is there? I mean. I don’t know why I’d think you would know.”

Dream looked at the mother and baby before him. Hob had called him friend. A friend, he thought, would tell Hob that there was always hope. But that was not what Dream believed.

“I do not think so,” he said. “I am… sorry.”

Hob sighed. He was still holding Eleanor’s hand. “I have to tell you, I– whatever I might’ve said to you at our last meeting, I’m struggling to feel any of it right now.”

“That is understandable.” More understandable, Dream thought, than his declaration of Life is rich! that Dream had found so hard to swallow.

“I’ve known others who’ve lost wives, children,” Hob said, and Dream looked down. Hob would have no way of knowing who those others might have included. “But I guess I always thought, not me, never me, never my Eleanor. Not until she was old and gray, anyway. But I guess everyone thinks that, don’t they?”

“Perhaps.” Dream thought he himself had always known the cost would come due. Destiny might have said that was one of the reasons it did come due. You make your own end. But that would not help Hob.

“It’s got to get better,” Hob asserted. “It’s got to. It’s got to stop some day, doesn’t it? All these children, and mothers dying.”

The instinct to sneer at his optimism jumped up Dream’s throat, but he managed to bite it off. He did not want to be… cruel, he realized, to someone who was suffering. Especially within a dream; dreamers’ minds were not for him to subject to his own feelings.

“In Guangzhou,” he started slowly, the dreams coming to him like a light rainfall, “there is a doctor who has just crafted a new medicine to ease pain during childbirth. She has been dreaming of it for years. In Oyo, a healer is learning to tell earlier and earlier when a pregnancy is troubled, that they might intervene in time. A few months more, and they will have it. And down the street, here in London, a midwife is just planting the seeds for the hospital she will open to help unwed mothers with nowhere to turn.”

Hob stared at him. He seemed to be holding his breath.

“Dreamers abound,” Dream said, “but it takes time for their work to come to fruition.”

Hob continued to watch him. Something shifted in his eyes, as he looked at Dream. Dream wasn’t certain he liked it. 

“You know everything, don’t you?” Hob said.

“Not everything.”

“You know all of that,” Hob mused, “all these things that are happening. And… you still come to ask me if I wish to live?”

Dream bristled, and Hob raised his hands in surrender. “Never mind, never mind, forget I said anything. You’re entitled to your own feelings on the matter. Thank you, for those stories. It helps. Truly. And I’m glad that I’ll get to see it. One day.”

“‘One day,’” Dream echoed. “‘One day’ is a time when no children die and no famine walks the earth, when soldiers break their swords before the fight, and later bread with their enemies. One day is always one step into the future, Hob Gadling. Ever-moving.”

“Aye,” said Hob. “That’s the point.” 

Dream frowned. What pleasure could be derived from wanting and wanting, and never having, he could not fathom. He had crafted nightmares thus. What hope to find in hope itself continually being dashed?

“I look forward to seeing you every century, you know that?” Hob added. “No matter what else happens. Bad days, or good ones.”

Dream kept frowning, unsure of the connection.

“It’s important to have those things,” Hob said. He squeezed Eleanor’s still hand. “Even now. Especially now.” 

In Dream’s own… aftermath… he could not imagine finding comfort in anything. What help could some nebulous future date possibly be?

“If that is what helps you,” he said. 

Hob cast him a look like he just knew that Dream didn’t get it, and it rankled. But there was no true criticism in that look. Hob looked at him with an unfathomable fondness, always.

He turned back to Eleanor, just gazing at her face with an expression Dream found difficult to witness in its softness. Were this the waking world, she would have certainly passed by now. But moments could freeze indefinitely in the Dreaming.

“Do you think I’ll forget her?” Hob asked quietly, still looking at his wife. “The details of her face, I mean? Her voice? What she smelled like? My memory’s far from perfect, and there’s a lot of time for it to fade.”

Dream knew without having to actively make the vow to himself that he would be sending frequent dreams Hob’s way to ensure he did not. He should not do so. He should not interfere. 

But.

“There are some things one does not forget,” he said.

Hob swiped at his eyes. He was crying now. “S’pose you’re right.”

If Dream was any sort of friend – and he was not sure that he was, though Hob had declared him so – he would end this dream now and spare Hob any further torment of reliving this memory. 

Instead, he sat beside him, far longer than he intended. Sat in silence, listened to Hob’s breaths, his sniffles as he cried, the subtle movements of continued life. He stayed in this sea of human endings and sickness and grief. With Hob. Something unnameable sitting heavier and heavier within him. And more than once he told himself to rise and to end the dream, and he did not. 

“I’m glad you’re here,” Hob finally said, when much time had passed and they still sat side-by-side. And it was this that finally reminded Dream that he should not be.

“I should leave you,” he said, standing abruptly. “This dream is–”

“Wait.” Hob took his hand. Dream should– Dream should yank it away in offense. He should take his leave of Hob instantly for the familiarity, the daring. 

He did not. He merely stood frozen as Hob pressed his hand between both of his own. His touch was very warm.

“Keep all those things in mind,” Hob said. His eyes still glittered with tears, but his words were steady. “Those infinite things you know about the world. Wherever you’re going.”

“I have much in mind at all times,” Dream told him. Hob had no idea how much. 

Hob smiled at him sadly. “I’m sure. Just think about it, okay? Those doctors in those faraway places. Alright?”

Dream studied him, but gleaned no additional information from it. “Very well,” he said at last.

Hob squeezed his hand once more, then let him go.

A friend might comfort him again, in these circumstances. But Dream was not certain it was necessary. He could see in Hob, even now, the spine of a man who would not break, even when he was so far down.

It was… curious.

Hob bid him farewell, eyes just crinkling at the corners. “Until we meet again, dear stranger.”

Dream stepped back into the comforting arms of the Dreaming proper, discomfited by the moment in a way he could not quite pin down, and by his own willingness to stay and engage in it at all. To involve himself in Hob’s life in a way he had not intended. 

“Until then, Hob Gadling,” he said, letting the scene dissolve around them, “this dream is over.”

[cactusspatz]

May recs

So May turned into my biennial swing through Naruto fandom (have I ever seen a single episode? nope), during which I managed to fall down the Madara/Tobirama rabbit hole - which is a very fun time if you enjoy extreme competency and enemies-to-lovers! Also I've got some Kakashi/Iruka fic, and a couple of Guardian fics for Shen Wei/Zhao Yunlan. More recs at Pinboard as well!

NARUTO - FOUNDERS ERA

As Is the Sea Marvelous by blackkat

Tobirama is willing to give absolutely anything for Hashirama and his dream.

AKA the fic that started me down this rabbit hole. Blackkat is so dangerous with the gateway drug fics like that - this is a great canon AU aimed directly at my id where Tobirama surrenders to the Uchiha in hopes of stopping an escalation of the war after he wounds Izuna.

and all the fire's at your fingertips by pandaflower

Tobirama is elbow deep in a stealth mission in Wind Country when he runs into a shinobi squad toting a stolen Uchiha child. Tobirama disapproves.

Charming gen competence porn/kidfic adventure.

With Enemies Like These by sarkasticfics

After a serious and devastating attack, the Uchiha are in desperate need of a sealmaster. Unfortunately for them, the best candidate happens to be from the Senju clan. Fortunately for them, he doesn't seem all that inclined to act like an enemy. Which is lucky because, as it turns out, there are plenty of other adversaries making moves in Fire Country - both the clans will need to make new friends to survive. Madara would have been content if his new husband tolerated him and helped his clan stay safe. He doesn't quite know what to do with the fact that his husband doesn't stop there.

Jam-packed with competence and tropes, just the way I like it - and there's some incredibly lovely moments as they reconcile with their clans' bloody pasts.

Count Your Blessings by madmothmadame

The war is over. Tobirama ended it when he put his sword through Izuna's center mass. But where war had united the Senju behind their leader, peace threatened to tear them apart. And who better for the warmongers to look to as a leader than the greatest killer of Uchiha they had ever seen? There were only two problems with that plan. One, Tobirama would never, ever, betray his elder brother. Two, he may or may not have a surprisingly not dead Uchiha Izuna in a coma in his guest room, hiding the secret of resurrection that Tobirama needs with everything he is. Now if only he would wake.

Deliciously epic. The inciting incident is very hand-wavey (having been inspired by another fic), but the follow-through in worldbuilding around Konoha's founding, the metric truckload of feels, and the twisty political intrigue makes for a great read. Be warned, there's like 250K of hurt before it gets to any sort of comfort, so maybe save it for a long rainy day if you don't want to suffer (like me). Also, the ship is pretty background, so don't expect much romance - but the gen relationships are fantastic and crunchy.

NARUTO - CANON ERA

for the record by ohwickedsoul

Asuma looks from Anko, who is laser-focused in a way rarely seen outside missions, and Iruka’s bewildered face. “Holy shit,” he says. “You’ve seen Kakashi’s face.”

The ending is TRUE ROMANCE, OKAY. And hilarious!

It's Amazing Who You Stumble Into (along the road of life) by vulcanhighblood

Hatake Kakashi and Umino Iruka have been part of each other's lives for a long time. A lot longer than Iruka realizes, anyway. Kakashi recognizes this is something of a problem, but only once it's too late to do anything about it. OR How To Make Your Secret Identity Friend Your Real-Life Boyfriend: A Shinobi's Guide To How Not To Romance

In which they keep running into each other over the years, complicated by Kakashi being ANBU for the first half of it. I loved the varied assortment of meetings, and the way they kept trading off on helping each other (physically, medically, emotionally).

GUARDIAN

Breaking Point by musicalluna & nightwalker

Zhao Yunlan is having a really terrible week, and it just gets worse when he starts to think Shen Wei has gotten tired of his bullshit.

Fantastic post-canon piece where the boys really need to communicate, and the universe/work is not helping. Excellent characterization and some brutally good relationship fights - but they figure it out in the end.

However deep the Lake by elenothar

Zhao Yunlan finds out a lot earlier that the Envoy isn't as invulnerable as he seems.

Classic h/c story where they're taken captive together in Episode 4.

[unhetalia]

I think what's fascinating about Arthur and Alfred is that the concept of immortality plays a huge part in the relationship between them in a way that it doesn't for other Hetalia ships.

In a way, this adds to the idea that Nations are 'other', and this is actually what's made them a less popular ship in fandom over time. People are uncomfortable with the fact that they met when Alfred was a child and Arthur was an adult. They're uncomfortable with the fact that there was a time where Arthur could be considered Alfred's caretaker.

If these two characters weren't immortal, there would be very little room for their relationship to grow beyond that of an adult and child, caretaker and charge. BECAUSE they're immortal, however, it's not only possible BUT we get to actually see it, which is rarer than you'd think in Hetalia.

Even though we as fans understand that history and time can change the relationship between two nations, we actually rarely see this in action. For example, Francis and Arthur have always been portrayed as rivals, and the intensity of that rivalry has stayed pretty consistent in canon despite the difference in their two countries' relationship. We know that Kiku and Alfred must have have had some difficulties between that first meeting and them being best friends in modern times, but we don't really see that either.

Arthur and Alfred's relationship, however, gets a really gorgeous, seriously written nod to the breakdown of the caretaker and charge relationship AND we also get to see them-as-equals in the present. When Himaruya used to do more ship tease, we even got to see it leading to a will-they-won't-they kind of thing.

So, it's really fascinating because it's a relationship where you can see that passage of time for them as Nations. I also think it allows for me to explore something that I don't believe in when it comes to real relationships - the idea that 'love is enough'.

This one can apply to everyone in Hetalia, but is particularly juicy with the canon we see for Arthur and Alfred. In real life, I stand by the adage that love is not enough. Love does not equal compatibility, it does not equal solving your relationship problems and love is not worth sacrificing yourself for. Basically - you need more than love to make a relationship work.

If Arthur and Alfred were mortal, they wouldn't have enough time to sort out all their issues in order to make a relationship work. That's my true opinion. A lot of accepting and moving on needs to happen. If they were mortal, I'd say ... just leave it. Experience the world! Find a love less intense but more healthy.

BUT THEY'RE NOT MORTAL. They're gonna get to a point where they've experienced as much world as they can, and the less intense but healthier love will literally die, and then who is left but each other, and every other immortal they have issues with? THIS is when love can be enough. This is when you can work on all the things that aren't worth working towards as a mortal. Eventually, we have a forever-young less toxic yaoi of my dreams.

And that is fucking amazing.