#it's a delight to read them and i will answer

[thef1diary]

A White Christmas | D. Ricciardo

Merry Smutmas: BONUS FIC

warnings: 18+ content, unprotected sex, penetrative sex, oral, husband!dad!daniel

— Happy Holidays & Merry Christmas from your favourite daniel sluts! (aka me n @emchante)🎄🎁 while this may not have been the perfect smutmas, we both thoroughly enjoyed writing each fic and we hope you enjoyed reading them just as much. Here’s the bonus fic, as promised. Be warned, there’s a lotta holiday filth ahead 👀

It was Christmas Morning, and the soft hush of snow blanketed the world outside the frosted windows. The flakes drifted lazily from the sky, a picturesque white Christmas that seemed almost too perfect to be real. Inside, the warmth of laughter and joy filled the air as you and Daniel watched your three kids eagerly tear into their presents. Their delighted squeals and wide-eyed wonder made the early wake-up call more than worth it. Wrapping paper flew across the living room, the scent of cinnamon rolls wafted from the kitchen, and the fire crackled softly in the background.

Breakfast followed shortly after—simple but perfect, with pancakes, eggs, and hot chocolate for everyone. The kids chattered excitedly about their new toys, their little faces—a close replica of Daniel’s—glowing with the magic of the day. Once the plates were cleared, you dressed them in their holiday sweaters, ready to head off to their grandma’s house where you and Daniel would join them later in the afternoon.

The house was quiet now, blissfully so, as you stood by the doorframe, waving goodbye to the kids as they piled into the car with their aunt. Once they drove away, Daniel closed the door, his arms wrapping around your waist from behind as he pressed a lingering kiss to your neck.

“Finally,” he murmured against your skin, his voice low and teasing. “We’ve got the house to ourselves for a couple hours.”

You turned in his arms, raising a brow at the sly grin tugging at his lips. “And what exactly do you plan on doing with this time, Mr. Ricciardo?”

He didn’t answer right away. Instead he walked over to the Christmas tree and picked up the last neatly wrapped present sitting underneath. His grin grew wider as he handed it to you. “Open it and find out.”

You quickly unwrapped the present, your curiosity piqued, only to find the sheerest, most delicate lace lingerie you’d ever seen nestled inside. The deep red fabric was soft under your fingertips, accented with intricate embroidery and ribbons that left little to the imagination. Your cheeks flushed, but Daniel’s smirk only deepened.

“And here I thought we were trying to be nice for Christmas,” you teased, holding the garments up for a better look.

“What can I say?” he replied, stepping closer until his hands were on your hips. “I wanted a very, very naughty gift this Christmas.” His lips brushed yours, his voice a whisper. “And I plan on unwrapping it right now.”

It didn’t take you long to change. When you stepped into the bedroom wearing the lingerie, Daniel’s eyes darkened instantly, his gaze raking over every inch of you.

“Turn around,” he commanded softly, his voice low and rough.

You did as he asked, feeling his gaze burn into your back as you gave him a full view. His sharp intake of breath sent a shiver down your spine, and before you could say anything, his hands were on your hips, pulling you back against his chest.

“Fuck,” he whispered, his lips brushing against your ear as his hands roamed over your body. “Look at you, love. All wrapped up for me.”

You let out a soft laugh, glancing back at him over your shoulder. “You like it, then?”

“Like it?” His hand slid between your thighs, finding the growing heat there through the thin fabric. “I’m obsessed.”

He didn’t wait for a response before nudging you gently towards the bed. You let yourself fall onto the soft mattress, his hands quickly finding your thighs to spread them apart. Daniel knelt between your legs, his hands gripping them firmly as he pressed a kiss to the inside of your knee. His mouth trailed higher, and when he reached the thin lace of your panties, he paused to look up at you.

“Look at you, adding some sweetness to my gift,” he murmured, his voice filled with dark amusement.

You didn’t have a chance to reply before his mouth covered you, his tongue pressing against your cunt through the lace. You gasped, your back arching off the bed as he teased you, his tongue working you over with slow, deliberate strokes and kisses.

Daniel’s lips teased you through the lace, his tongue hot and wet as it moved against the thin fabric, dampening it further with each slow stroke. The friction of the lace against your sensitive skin was intoxicating, a mix of pleasure and torment that had you gasping, your hands fisting the sheets beneath you.

“Daniel,” you whimpered, your hips shifting, desperate for more, for him to pull the fabric aside and give you what you needed.

But he only chuckled against you, the vibration sending a jolt of pleasure straight to your core. “Patience, my love. I like seeing you like this—needy and desperate for me.”

He slid a hand up your thigh, his touch firm and possessive, before his fingers slipped beneath the lace. He didn’t move it away. Instead, he pressed against your slick folds, the fabric catching every motion as his fingers teased and circled your clit.

“Fuck,” he muttered, his voice thick with desire. “You’re soaking through it.”

You could only moan in response, your body trembling as he continued to torment you with slow, deliberate strokes of his fingers. His mouth joined again, his tongue pressing firmly against your lace-covered pussy, and the combined sensations had you spiraling out of control.

“Cum for me, sweetheart,” he commanded, his voice low and rough against your skin. “Dirty this pretty lace for me.”

It didn’t take much more. His fingers pressed just right, his tongue relentless as it worked you through the fabric, and the pressure built until it exploded, your body clenching and shaking as your orgasm ripped through you. You cried out his name, your thighs trembling as your cum coated the lace, leaving it soaked and clinging to your sensitive cunt.

Daniel groaned in approval, pulling back to admire his handiwork. “Fuck, look at this,” he muttered, his fingers tracing the damp lace. “You’ve completely ruined it. Just how I wanted.”

Before you could catch your breath, he was moving, flipping you onto your stomach with ease. His hands gripped your hips, pulling you onto your knees, your ass high in the air as he positioned you exactly how he wanted.

“You’re so beautiful,” he said, his voice filled with reverence and hunger. He slid his hands down your back, over the curve of your ass, before grabbing the lace and pulling it to the side, finally uncovering your cunt.

“Perfect,” he murmured, his hands spreading you wider. “Absolutely perfect.”

You felt him against you a moment later, the thick head of his cock teasing your hole as he slid it through your wetness, gathering everything you’d already given him.

“Daniel, please,” you begged, your voice breathless and broken.

“Please what?” he taunted, his voice dark and teasing as he paused at your entrance.

“Please fuck me,” you cried, pushing your hips back against him.

He didn’t make you wait any longer. With one smooth thrust, he buried himself inside you, filling you completely. You both groaned at the feeling, his hands gripping your hips tightly as he stilled for a moment, letting you adjust.

“God, you feel so fucking good,” he groaned, his voice rough with need.

Then he began to move, pulling almost all the way out before slamming back in, each thrust deep and deliberate. The sound of skin slapping against skin filled the room, mingling with your cries and his guttural moans.

“You’re taking me so well,” he moaned, his hands digging into your hips. “Such a good girl for me. So tight, so wet.”

You couldn’t form a response, your mind foggy with pleasure as he set a punishing pace, his cock hitting deep with every thrust. Your arms gave out beneath you, your face pressed into the mattress as he continued to take you, his grip never faltering.

“Gonna cum for me again, sweetheart?” he asked, his voice strained as he leaned over you, his lips brushing your ear. “Feel you squeezing me already. Do it—cum all over my cock.”

His words sent you over the edge, your body convulsing as another orgasm tore through you. He didn’t slow down, fucking you through it, his thrusts growing erratic as he chased his own release.

With a low groan, he pulled out at the last second, his hand stroking himself as he finished over your ass. The heat of his cum splashed across your skin, thick and hot, marking you in the most intimate way.

Daniel’s breath was ragged behind you as he steadied himself, his release warm and sticky on your skin. His hands slid down your hips, almost soothing, before he traced a finger through the mess he’d made.

“You look even better like this,” he murmured, his voice rough with satisfaction. “Covered in my cum.”

You shivered at his tone, feeling his finger gather some of the wetness on your skin before he pressed it to your lips. “Open,” he commanded, his eyes locked on yours as you turned your head slightly to look at him.

Your lips parted, and he slid his finger into your mouth, watching intently as you closed your lips around him and sucked. His groan was deep and guttural, his other hand coming to stroke your hair. “That’s my girl,” he murmured, his thumb brushing your cheek.

When he pulled his finger free, you turned fully, taking in the sight of him. His chest heaved with every breath, his body glistening with sweat, and yet his cock was still hard, standing proud and ready. The sight of him—so undone and yet still wanting—ignited something primal in you.

Without a word, you slid off the bed, sinking to your knees in front of him. His eyes widened slightly, his lips parting in surprise, but the smirk that followed told you he knew exactly what you intended.

“Look at you,” he said softly, his voice dripping with lust. “So fucking eager.”

You didn’t respond. Instead, your hands wrapped around his thighs, your touch firm as you brought your face closer. Your tongue darted out, licking along the underside of his cock, tasting him. He hissed, his hips jerking slightly as you teased him, your tongue swirling around the head before you took him into your mouth.

“Fuck,” he groaned, his head falling back as his hands found your hair. “That mouth of yours… feels so damn good.”

You worked him with practiced ease, your lips sliding down his length as your tongue pressed against him. Your hand joined the motion, stroking the base while your mouth focused on the tip, hollowing your cheeks with each movement.

Daniel’s grip in your hair tightened as his breathing grew heavier. “You’re gonna make me lose it, love,” he said, his voice strained. “So fucking perfect, on your knees like this.”

You hummed in response, the vibration sending a shudder through him. His hips bucked slightly, and you took him deeper, letting him hit the back of your throat. The sound he made was sinful, his control fraying with each passing second.

“Shit,” he groaned, pulling back just enough to take a breath. “I need to see you.”

He withdrew from your mouth, and you looked up at him, your lips swollen and glistening. His eyes darkened at the sight, and you continued stroking him with your hand.

You leaned in, pressing a kiss to the tip of his cock, gaze connected with his as you whispered, “cum all over me, Danny.”

You tilted your head back slightly, your tongue flicking out to catch the first drop of his release as he came. His moan was deep and raw as he spilled over your face, the warmth splashing across your cheeks and down to your chest. He aimed deliberately, painting your lace-covered breasts with streaks of white, each one a claim on your body.

“Fuck,” he muttered, his breathing uneven as he admired his work. “You’re a goddamn masterpiece.”

Your hands came up to your chest, your fingers trailing through the mess he’d made. You looked up at him, your gaze heated. “All yours,” you whispered, your voice low and sultry.

He knelt down, his hands cupping your face as he kissed you deeply, the taste of him still on your tongue. “Always mine,” he murmured against your lips.

Painted in Daniel’s cum, it was truly a white Christmas, one you’d never forget.

taglist: @lilorose25 @thenotoriouserg @a-distantdreamer @leclercsluvs @fat-meh @wintxr-widow @amirahart @alishamai @rendezvoushn

[notbecauseofvictories]

50/50

Well, 2024 sure did...happen.

Anyway! I didn't set any sort of goal to watch 50 films and read 50 books this year, but that's where I ended up. Neither number is exactly accurate, and I'm leaving out television, revisiting what I've already read/watched, and all the ridiculous novels I pick up when I'm hungover, but still. I'm kind of impressed with myself. I didn't get to 50 books last year, and I don't think I've watched 50 movies in a year ever---but the more I watch them, the more I explore what they can do and communicate, the more I want to see. As a lifelong reader, it's interesting to explore a new kind of art, to try and intuit your way in through a strikingly different form of communicating the exact same humanness.

TOP FIVE 2024

FILMS

The Florida Project (2017)

Crimes of the Future (2022)

M (1931)

Something in the Dirt (2022)

We’re All Going to the World’s Fair (2021)

It's been months and months since I saw The Florida Project, and I still think about it. The bright and artificial sherbet coloring of it; the dank and mold and shadows that linger around the edges....Actually, I think of all these films in terms of their aesthetics first. Not that there wasn't a story there, but because they all represent such a marriage with form. Consider Crimes of the Future with its fading decay, its browns and rust; M with its stylized, refined cityscape even in the greyscale of 30s cinema; Something in the Dirt where every shot is mundane, or fantastical or both; and We're All Going to the World's Fair, with the particular blue-grey loneliness of the internet age. Surely the benefit of watching a movie (as opposed to anything else) is being presented with something to watch, and I like when directors and creative teams understand that.

Honorable mention to American Psycho (2000) since I'm still a little insane about it---or maybe Corsage (2022) because whether or not it was a good movie, it was nevertheless the most uncompromising, brutal portrait of a historical figure I've seen.

BOOKS

The Rehearsal, Eleanor Catton

Big Swiss, Jen Beagin

Vintner's Luck, Elizabeth Knox

Wylding Hall, Elizabeth Hand

Diavola, Jennifer Thorne

Some people may try to tell you that horror is a discrete genre---I am here to tell you that it's not. All great novels are horror stories, and those listed above especially. From The Rehearsal's self-important artistes, to the therapy-speak Millennials of Big Swiss, to the musicians of Wylding Hall (who miss every sign that Something Is Happening) and the Pace family of Diavola (who deny that the signs mean anything, even after fleeing their vacation home in the night)....all these novels are a study in people experiencing something painful, even terrible. And yet, that provides incredibly fertile territory for their authors to explore the things that come with horror---complicity, desire for closeness, narration and performance, the open wound of family, the thin netting of modernity that keeps us from plunging into something older and darker than we can comprehend.

The only exception might be Vintner's Luck. Not because it's not there as a theme, but because the novel itself spans the narrator's life. By the time he's middle-aged he's committed so many errors, he can't judge too harshly when others do. In this respect it's almost an answer to the questions horror poses---not just how do you survive this? but how do you go on, having survived that?

Honorable mention to Dead Inside, by Chandler Morrison, because it was stomach-turning in the very best way. Echoes of Cipher by Kathe Koja---when an author really knows, really understands, how to wield grossness without shirking or apologizing for it, the result is delightful.

Books of 2020 | Books of 2021 | Books of 2022 | Books of 2023

[dooberific]

Hiiiiiii!! Can I ask for Harumasa x Reader angst? They are lovers and the reader is also Harumasa's colleague. Then the reader got commissioned(?) to fight hollows but she got stuck in that place and (idk if they went to fight hollows alone but for this request, they have like underlings(?) that would go with them for the mission) the people/fighters that the reader went with to the hollows came back heavily injured and Harumasa saw that the reader is not there with them. That is all hehe, it's up to you if you want the reader to be found or if they would be a hollow and Harumasa has to fight them knowing that that is the reader (I'm a sucker for angst)

Take your time doing this request and stay healthy, dear author!

Anon….who hurt you on Christmas? 😭. Hope this is close to what you were envisioning!

❝ 𝘚𝘦𝘯𝘵𝘪𝘮𝘦𝘯𝘵𝘴 𝘧𝘳𝘰𝘮 𝘵𝘩𝘦 𝘏𝘰𝘭𝘭𝘰𝘸 ❞

harumasa x afab!reader

genre: hurt no comfort, major character death

summary: it was supposed to be a routine mission, now he’s left to pick up the pieces

wc: 2.3k

There was a ring cut to your size. A thin and silver little band that lacked grandiose ornamentation. Diamonds and frills were never your thing after all, he could still see the little quirk in your lips at the memory of your colleagues rushing in with stones so large you thought them better fit for paperweights than proclamations of their belonging to another under the banner of love and marriage. “Practicality above all else,” you had claimed some months ago, thumbing at the simple band around your index finger. Your late mother’s ring.

He hoped you were the sentimental kind, your voice warbled over the line from the outpost in his ear as he smiled. “I’m just saying to be careful is all.” He asserted, fingers running aimlessly over the silver band resting in his palm. Your initials and his were cut into the inside. 

It was supposed to be your day off, the first you had taken in several months, but when H.A.N.D phoned you that they needed your section of the HSO to assemble for a rescue mission after a Defense Force team had vanished inside of Hollow Zero, well….you didn’t get the luxury of saying no, even if you were the Chief. 

“When am I not careful? Remember which one of us you’re talking to here, Haru.” You chided, the smile on your face so present he could hear it change the lilt of your voice. 

“Right, right, I’m talking to my beautiful, kind, intelligent and all around perfect girlfriend~” Though he hoped that title would be changing very soon, as he held the ring up to the light, the sun filtering through the window of your shared apartment dancing enticingly over its surface. 

You giggled in his ear, the sound warming him to the soul. He could practically see the way the corners of your eyes wrinkled in delight.  “That’s much better.”

The interference in the background of the call amplified, faint callings of your name cutting through the static. You sounded disappointed. “Sorry Haru, I gotta go.”

“It’s okay baby, duty calls. Just try to be home for dinner.”

“Wouldn’t miss a date night for the world, you better not peek in the closet while I’m gone! I want that dress to be a pleasant surprise later.” 

You fell quiet again as you pulled the receiver away from your mouth, yelling a response into the background. “They’re about to have an aneurysm over here,” you huffed. 

“I love you, Haru~”

“I love you too, (y/n)~”

That was a little after noon. It was now nearing midnight and the outpost was crawling with H.A.N.D uniforms and HSO stragglers. Countless outpost scientists shouldered through the crowd, chiming off readings and acting as if they just had a some great scientific breakthrough.

But you were still inside of Hollow Zero.

And H.A.N.D was beginning to withdraw. 

Even flashing his Section 6 badge failed to get him answers despite his insistence, earning little more than the shake of a head and a “this is above your paygrade, kid.”

They threatened to court martial  him if he kept accosting them. But they didn’t have you inside the Hollow like he did. The epitome of his happiness, the one he swore hung the moon and stars, his most constant companion, and the only one he could imagine waking up beside of until the day he expired. 

They didn’t have you, but they had the version of you that made their actions palatable. The “good soldier” and “valiant leader”. The slave to a public that didn’t care to know your name even as you shouldered their burdens as ceaselessly as atlas held the heavens. The one who signed up for a death job.

A chorus of shouts erupted, the flash of the medical units blazing to life under the white spotlights. 

Survivors.

He shouldered his way through the swell of the crowd with little regard for those he pushed aside. In a perfect world he would break from the crowd and see you standing there, a little worse for wear but alive and smiling like you just cheated the world. You would push past the medic teams as they chased you down to throw your arms around his neck, pressing a kiss to his lips as you gloated playfully.

“See? What’d I tell you? Safe and sound.” 

But you weren’t there. A cluster of five soldiers stumbled through the outer bounds of the Hollow—no, those weren’t soldiers, they were members of your faction carrying the torn uniforms of Defense Force operatives. They dripped with blood and grime, corruption marring their skin as they limped out, half-dragging others.

“Hey!” He yelled over the roar of the crowd as he grabbed one of them by the shoulder. His name badge shined under the lights. Kimura.

 “Where’s your chief?”

The man shoved his hand away, “Get off me man!”

He didn’t know where he got the strength as he grappled with Kimura before taking two fistfuls of his collar. “Where’s your fucking Chief? Where’s (y/n)?!” 

Multiple pairs of hands tore at his uniform from behind as they hauled him off, legs kicking as he wrestled against their pull.

“Where is she?”

“She’s stayed behind!” 

Kimura’s face was blank, his eyes distant and foggy as he stared at the ground. There were tears streaming down his face as he drew a ragged breath. “I’ve never seen so many ethereals, we were overran so quickly…Chief (l/n) and Deputy Chief Kato created a diversion to draw them away so we could get out.”

Kimura looked up with red rimmed eyes.

“I am so sorry.”

Hollow Zero had mutated. Or that was the story they were telling everyone now. The sensors at the outpost had registered a dramatic spike in etheric energy about 30 minutes after Section 2 had infiltrated, and by the next 20 the bangboo that accompanied you had stumbled out with fried circuits, the carrot it followed now expired as the interior of the hollow rearranged. 

It was supposed to be a standard recovery operation. You had done them hundreds of times in the past.

“I’m sorry, Asaba. My hands are tied.” The officer said with a shake of his head. “No one’s allowed in unless they are operating with their faction. You’re the only one from Section 6 here.”

He gripped his bow tighter. “Then I suggest you turn around and pretend you didn’t see me then.” 

It felt like an electric current thrummed under his skin as he breached the Hollow. He didn’t bother to call the proxy or wait for the association to form a new carrot. There was no point, even as desperately as he clinged to the idea of you being unharmed, alive, there was still a rotten crawl of doubt in the back of his mind that made the thought of wandering forever as an ethereal within Hollow Zero a more palatable choice than leaving here without you. 

He didn’t know how long he had wandered through the hollow, hair matted to his forehead from sweat as he cleared another broken wall, trying to survey as much of the warped landscape as he could. He doubled over, hands braced against his knees as he tried to catch his breath. He had overextended himself already, his chest constricted tightly as his breathing became shallow, a sharp ringing in his ears. He screwed his eyes shut, focusing on getting his lungs back under control.

In and out.

In and out.

There was a distant cry that met his ears, strangled and distorted, one that twisted his gut in an iron grip as his head shot up.

You.

He didn’t know what he hoped to find when he fumbled over the rubble in your direction. Finding you was the sole focus of his mind for the past few hours, the rush of adrenaline carrying his mind past rational thought.

You. You. You.

It urged his tired legs forward, kept him standing as he rounded the corner and saw the torn back of your uniform jacket stretched unnaturally over your crumpled form. 

Even with your back to him he would have recognized you anywhere, even as your body contorted unnaturally, muscles spasming wildly as a distorted cry pierced the air. Your hands clawed as the ground, ugly black shards piercing your skin from within, nailbeds black and bloody where your fingertips had rubbed raw in the dirt.

He knew better than to approach you, to roll you to your back as your body seized and writhed in his grasp, more warbled cries piercing the air.

Your eyes were glassy and unfocused as his hands cupped your cheeks. Your skin was hot to the touch, corruption running thickly in your veins and curling out of your skin like ugly black horns. 

He shushed you gently, cradling your head in his arms as your hands tore at his sides, teeth gnashing wildly as the corruption ate away at your humanity before his very eyes. 

“When I turn into an ethereal one day, I want to you promise that you’ll kill me.”

You lifted your head off his chest. “You sure have a strange idea of pillow talk, Haru.”

He snorted, hands tracing down the curve of your spine as you shivered. “Yeah, I know but still…I don’t want to wander in a Hollow forever like some mindless husk. That’s no way to live.”

You bit your cheek, stretching up to peck him on the lips, his hands gently brushing your hair aside as he grinned against your lips.

“Then I trust you to do the same for me.”

He hated himself. He hated that he remembered that conversation you had over a year ago, begging himself to twist the truth, to convince his own mind that you didn’t know the weight of your words. But deep down he knew he couldn’t deny it, deny you, of the peaceful passing he had asked you to offer him. 

This shouldn’t be an issue for him to face. It shouldn’t be you in the throes of corruption, screaming and tearing at him like an animal as your senses fled you body. 

You were supposed to outlive him. The scales of nature were stacked unmistakably in your favor.

Tears wet your cheeks, but they didn’t belong to you. Hot and salty tears poured down his face as his breath stuttered. Everything about this was wrong, like his worst nightmares spawning into a hellish reality as he begged any god that might exist for an easy way out, begged you for forgiveness, for you to answer him with that same gentle smile that was reserved just for quiet moments with him. 

Apologies burned him from the inside out, like venom on his tongue as he peeled your hands off of him and backed away. His hands trembled so violently he could scarcely nock an arrow, his entire body weak. His vision swam, whether it was from the ether corruption that had dinned his hearing or from the tears that didn’t seem to stop he wasn’t sure.

His lip quivered, breathing unsteady as he stared down at you, your form clawing at the earth before pushing shakily onto your knees. You moved more like a marionette than a human, the skin on your neck crumbling under a sheen of black as the core began to manifest. 

Mournful cries dripped from your cyanotic lips as a hand extended in his direction. It was a moment of lucidity, fingers flexing against the veins of corruption under your flesh.

“Haru, I’m so s-sorry.”

The arrow whistled sharply as his fingers released the bowstring.

.

.

.

There was a ring cut to your size. A thin and silver little band that lacked grandiose ornamentation. Diamonds and frills were never your thing after all, he could still see the little quirk in your lips at the memory of your colleagues rushing in with stones so large you thought them better fit for paperweights than proclamations of their belonging to another under the banner of love and marriage. “Practicality above all else,” you had claimed some months ago, thumbing at the simple band around your index finger. Your late mother’s ring.

They both sat on the table on your side of the bed, the metal cold and lifeless under his dull gaze. 

“Asaba, I know this is hard, but there are people who you can talk to. That can help you.” The voice of Yanagi echoed from the answering machine in the hallway. He let his cellphone die weeks ago. 

“We are just worried about you. Please, call me back.”

Your favorite coffee cup still sat beside the pot in the kitchen, the rim stained pink from your favorite lipstick. Your toothbrush still sat in the cup beside his, your shampoo still in the shower. He couldn’t bring himself to disturb the bag hanging in the closet, you didn’t want him to spoil the surprise of the dress you bought in excitement at the prospect of going out to dinner after all.

His medicine bottles sat empty in the bathroom trashcan, the contents lost to the sewers of New Eridu by now.

His lungs heaved tiredly, a deep wheeze whistling in the back of his throat. His vision never stopped swimming, even after he carried you out of the Hollow, an arrow embedded between your glossy eyes as your blood stained his clothes.

His thumb pressed the space between your eyebrows, your nose wrinkling, eyes warm as you stared at him from your side of the bed, hair fanned across your cheeks. 

“Haru, it’s not good for you to lay around all the time.” You whispered, leaning into his touch as his hand drifted to cup your cheek, thumb teasing your lower lip before you pressed a kiss to the pad.

 “Get up, you need to eat.”

He knew it wasn’t real, that you weren’t real, but he smiled like you were anyways. Like your lips were warm as you leaned in and brushed them against his, like there was weight behind the pull of your hands as he rolled out of bed for the first time in days.

There was a ring cut to your size, and for a little while longer he would pretend it was nestled on your finger. 

Rey 2024, crossposted to ao3

[marscardigan]

to the moon and back

remus lupin x reader

summary: your son is just like his father. remus hates that.

warnings: angst, mentions of self-hatred and anxiety, panic attack, cursing, not proofread!!

When you gave birth to Teddy, the marauders delight, you noticed he looked just like his father. The same lopsided smile, the little frown, how he looked at you with pure adoration and joy... everything reminded you of Remus. You adored that. It was like you just made him a twin. And it wasn't only you who noticed it, oh no, everyone did.

From Sirius' jokes to Lily's compliments, everyone knew he looked just like Remus. It was only the named one who seemed to dislike it. So when everyone left the hospital the night teddy came, you confronted him about it. "What is it?"

Remus looked up at you, looking confused. "Come on, don't lie to me" He laughed, failing at making you calmer. "I just don't know what you're talking about, dove"

"You've been weird and quiet all day"

"I am weird and quiet always" you scoffed, frowning as if you were just insulted. "Answer me, please. I am worried over here"

He moved his gaze to the window, avoiding your eyes. "You aren't going to like it"

"Don't care, just want to know why you look sad and why you haven't looked at your son in all evening" Remus grimaced at your voice. "So you noticed" Still, his eyes didn't meet yours. "Of course I noticed" You answered, offended.

"I just... don't like... that everyone says he looks just like me" He tried explaining, but you didn't get it, you couldn't bear to get it, after how proud you were your child looked just like his father. "I just wished he looked like you, that's all"

You pouted, looking at Teddy's sleepy face. Remus kept spiraling on his own thoughts. "I don't know why I feel this way, i should be proud of it" The postpartum hormones started to hit you harder, and some tears escaped your eyes. "If it helps, I couldn't be prouder that my kid looks exactly like you"

"Oh baby, please don't cry" Remus got up from his seat, and with his warm sweater dried every single tear left on your cheeks. "Let's just hope he gets your personality"

"We better hope he doesn't get your sense of humor, because we're screwed then" You laughed, and Remus joined too. He then started to believe in the possibility of loving his own son, even if he looked just like him, and made him sick inside.

When things started to get better, and your kid was almost two years old, you received a letter from the Potter's. Teddy was staying with them for the weekend, so you two could get some time alone. But all of your plans got screwed when Remus got a letter from James. He came to you, hand shaking while grabbing the piece of paper, tears threatening to escape from his beatific chocolate eyes. You got up from the bed and swiftly went to his side, grabbing softly his cheeks, which were burning. Before he could explain himself, he started crying, panic running through his veins. You asked what was wrong multiple times, but the only thing that left Remus' lips were "I told you", repeating it until he couldn't breathe. You tried to do everything you could to stop him from the anxiety, but every time something like this happened, you never knew what to do, so you hugged him and make his head hide in your chest, tears falling from your eyes as horrid shouts left Remus' mouth.

Once he got calmer, he just gave you the letter, too tired to even open his eyes. You didn-t have to read it to know what it said. So before he could do anything, you were going to the Potter-s and taking Teddy back home.

You left your son's room after putting him to sleep, and tiredly, you searched for your husband, only to find him smoking outside the porch. Remus didn't turn around, only lightened another cigarette. "I-m going to bed" You said, hoping to get some reaction from him. After a minute without any sign of him hearing you, you sighed, going to your shared dorm. Before you could close the door, you heard him mumble something under his breath. After asking to repeat it, he finally turned around, cigarette between his lips. "I said how bad is it."

You looked at his eyes, ignored the big eye bags those carried for almost two days now. "It could-ve been wor-"

"No. Tell me how bad is it" He cut you off, voice monotone.

You started to lose patience. "Well, if you're so interested about it, why don't you just try to look at your son's face? Then you could see how fucked up it actually is". You spitted at him, angry about his behavior. "But I told you, the scar on his cheek will fade eventually"

"That's what the doctor told me with mine" He almost laughed. You crossed your arms. "Thank god we have a better doctor then." Remus' tries to look guilty were hidden behind a weird smile, "So this is funny to you now? The safety of our child?"

"Of course it's not fucking funny, for god’s sake!" He almost shouted, throwing the cigar out. "I tried to warn you, ya know. About it before we had... him. But as always, you didn't listen"

"I did listen, you dumbass" You answered back, your words sounded almost venomous. "But as I told you back then, I couldn't give a shit, not before and not now, about it."

"You do seem mad about it" He shrugged.

"I am mad about it because our son needs his father, and his fucking father can't even look him in the eye" You pointed out at him, getting closer. "He needs you, and you seem to be gone." Your voice cracked, and Remus gaze softened just a little bit. He called out your name, but you ignored him. "I swear that every day that passes I have more clear that you are going to leave us, leave him, and I, I can't stand it."

"No, listen, it's not-"

"You listen to me" His eyes looked worried at your face, almost noticing now how pale and unhealthy you look, or have been looking for the past week. "I am scared every time I wake up and not finding you in bed, because you're gone" Your throat suddenly feels dry, as if your thoughts somehow would become reality once spilled. "Teddy needs you, I need you..."

Remus grabbed your hips, caressing your skin with his thumbs. "I know, I... I have been on my mind too long" He looked down, almost ashamed. "I was so scared of passing my... condition to him that once it happened I didn't know what to do after" He finally whispered. "I had no one when it happened to me, and I would've loved to have someone" "Let's give Teddy that support he needs, especially from you." You took advantage of the closeness of your bodies to rest your head in the crook of his neck. "He really misses you"

"I miss him too..." He sighed. "God I'm such an awful father" You shushed him, not daring to open your eyes. "Don’t say that. You are wonderful, you just need someone to remind you that"

Without being aware of his smile, Remus looked down at you, hiding the biggest smirk that now rested on his lips. "I love you, dovie. Love you to the moon and back"

"And just so you know" You looked up at him, copying his smile. "I couldn't be prouder that he is just like you"

And Remus started to believe it. He started to believe the blessing he had with Teddy, but mostly he started to believe how lucky he was to found you, and how his son would found just another angel like you in a future.

[galedekarios]

i feel the need again to thank all the people sending me these really interesting and thoughtful messages! 🖤

[yardsards]

i needed to express a sentiment in the creative stylings of @dunmeshiminimumwage

[moeblob]

Right and his work menaces (Brent and Karen).

I don't remember last I mentioned it but apart from crude nicknames to people (except Chris), he also just puts them in his phone really weird (except Chris, who is literally in his phone as Chris). And I bring this up because in Right's phone, Karen is saved as "Lawful Obligation".

[vaguely-concerned]

I don't know what I love more, the fact that as rook you can make a statement in NO uncertain terms that you are NOT responsible one way or the other for the theological implications of the shit you're discovering in the 'regrets of the dread wolf' memories. not my jurisdiction. quite simply none of my business. not my chantry circus not my chantry monkeys. irrelevant to the matter at hand here we'll kill that god if we get to him he can get in line. or if the best thing about it is seeing the lone little 'lucanis approves' that pops up right after choosing it. corvid with a knife about to commit deicide keeping it real and sensibly, pragmatically, wilfully agnostic with me here in this magical lighthouse today

[moonpaw]

Fighting DEMONS rn trying not to get invested in one piece to figure out wtf you're posting about!!!!

come here cyber.... we have this thang

‎

[calmlb]

Hi Essie!!! Hope you're doing well! (⁠.⁠ ⁠❛⁠ ⁠ᴗ⁠ ⁠❛⁠.⁠)❤️

So I had this idea for a sick!Dazai fic (that I'm honestly too tired to write dhehee), and who else is better to brainstorm it with than my fellow Dazai whump enthusiast? :D

Based on my own experience of being sick for the past week, I forgot how awful it can get. It sucks. You're feverish, your nose is either runny or super blocked, your throat hurts, you get headaches, you're lethargic 80% of the time, all that stuff. But what sucked the most for me was how hot my skin felt. Like, clothes were so uncomfortable to wear from the sweat, especially since it's still summer around here.

So imagine putting bandages into account as well?

Yep, awful.

So I present you with a scenario: Teen!Dazai in his office, has taken over paper duty (that Mori knows he isn't gonna complete anyway) because of his fever. He feels gross, to say the least. Flushed and hazy, a little nauseous and sleepy. But his skin- his skin is scorching, and there is no way for it to disperse that heat because it can't breathe. He endures it for as long as he can until he just can't.

In his haze, he scrambles to tear his bandages off, loosen his tie, and decides that he will lie on the cold floor shirtless. The air conditioner isn't enough. No one is there to stop him.

Until Chuuya barges in without knocking as usual (to discus the paperwork he also knows Dazai isn't going to finish) and stumbles onto the scene.

Dazai doesn't even acknowledge him, has already taken off the bandages around his eye and is halfway through tearing off the ones around his neck. His clothes are disheveled as he loosens them and looks like he's about to take them off.

Chuuya gapes for a solid second, before exclaiming with a blush-

"What the fuck?!"

He rushes over, trying not to look at Dazai's skin that's on display and stops him. He wraps him with Mori's oversized coat aggressively.

Dazai fights against him, exclaiming that he needs to lie on the floor. Chuuya doesn't get it, all that he knows is that Dazai is delirious, and even if he thinks it's a good idea to tear through his protective layer now, he'll definitely regret it later.

So Chuuya ties him with the coat and decides to take the paperwork to his place, along with a flailing Dazai on his shoulder.

I just wanna see Dazai giving Chuuya hell during treating him 😭 cuz even if cooling off is a good idea for a fever, not staying huddled in the warmth equates to chills and endless sneezes. Makes you feel even more awful. So it's gonna be a push and pull of Chuuya trying to warm Dazai up (in order to fight off the fever faster), and Dazai wanting to cool off (because he isn't used to being this warm and hates it), until they come up with a compromise somehow dgdhejndjd

Yeah, just a fun idea! :3 Feel free to expand on it hehe

PEA 😭 i saw this when i was having a Very Bad Day™️ & it immediately made it sm better tysm 🥺🩷🩷

UGH THE TENDER, FEVERISH SKIN UNDER THE BANDAGES ❤️‍🩹 where everything just feels like too much, i completely understand why Dazai (in his feverish delusion) would think removing the offending material would be the solution

Chuuya barging in and quickly going from 👁️👄👁️ to 😳🤬. i love that he goes into protective mode, thinking of how future Dazai will surely regret this course of action & putting measures in place to prevent that 🥺

Chuuya would wrap Dazai up like a sushi roll & carry him on his shoulder like a log back to his apartment, where he proceeds to lose the idgaf war & embrace his mother hen side (which he still denies exists)

meanwhile Dazai is kicking & fighting him every step of the way, acting more like a 5 year old than a mafia sub executive (he’s still only a kid sobs), even as he shivers with chills

until Chuuya manages to get a hand in his sweat soaked curls, gently carding through them. the coolness of his leather glove against Dazai’s overheated scalp makes Dazai go still… and then slump against the couch in a mixture of relief & exhaustion. Chuuya takes advantage of his compliance to make him agree to stop fighting him, & they spend the rest of the day resting on the couch, watching movies & playing video games (well. Chuuya plays. Dazai watches & points out all of Chuuya’s mistakes) 🩷🩷🩷

[elfiepike]

I'm in book 3 of thousand autumns (7s editions) & I was having a lot of fun but I am in fact at the point where I must know: when are these guys in love. when does that happen. DOES it happen?? typically I prefer a much more pervasive sense of "these guys are freaks about each other" & thus far these guys ARE freaks (complimentary) but they don't seem to be especially freaks about each other outside of the whims of fate.

[fisheito]

i've gotta laugh at the possibility of me leaving the gay porn gacha fandom, i'm trapped here forever. it's in my blood now.

i mainly just created a sideblog bc beloved though this media is, i cannot recommend it to people. aaaand also my main is ridiculously cluttered and barely even fandom related, so all of my hyperfixations have neat little sideblogs so that i can keep everything relatively organized.

also. i am VERY excited for the upcoming event!!! i'm saving up for my precious! i almost got spoiled on the outfit but i scrolled away in the nick of time!!

sincerely, @blades-precious-darling

takes a weary crunch out of my candy cigar (very full of honey). it's been over 900 days. i am still here. i'm supposed to have commitment issues. have i ever been in a fandom for this long?!

i think necromancer diloreq said it best... where,, even though i'm obsessed with this game, i cannot in my.. proper?judgement? conscience?? refer it to other ppl. at least not en masse. it's a gay porn gacha LOL

i'll have to bring it up only to people i know will not lose their life savings to whaledom, whose specific interests match the nuca profile, AND who aren't someHoW ALReAdy playing it???!

[butchybats]

I GOT YOU

lesbian DM thoughts

armand taking care of daniel during her period every month 🥹 letting daniel drink a little more of her blood than she usually does for strength and to help with her cramps orgasms also help with cramps

daniel isn't very feminine but armand is and she loves to look dolled up especially because she spent so many years wasting away underground. so sometimes when armand gets a bit sad and listless, daniel will bathe her, do her hair for her in either a pretty bun or a french braid, do her makeup very carefully (daniel never cared about this stuff before but she taught herself just for armand okay!)

idk if you know her but the very first supermodel was a woman named gia carangi in the 70s and 80s and her and her girlfriend are my reference for lesbian!devil's minion LOL I CAN'T LINK IN HERE BUT THIS IS THEM ESPECIALLY THE LAST TWO PICS https://reddit.com/r/actuallesbians/s/jeEgrXjLPC

hope your day/night gets better friend 💖

TYSM FOR THE ASK <33

• caretaking is one of my favorite tropes ever idc what universe it is in I will always be thinking about them taking care of each other especially in terms of illness/injury (which really would only be armand helping daniel but we can get funky with the rules <3)

okay back to periods though, I am so so convinced that Armand would coddle the hell out of Daniel!!! She is wrapped up in blankets on the couch with a big bottle of midol and her choice of drink on the side table and Armand is more than happy to give her the blood and rub her back and cuddle her and give her girl whatever she needs 🥹

And as you said orgasms are great painkillers!!! Listen literally the first prompt I ever saw on priapus was r63 devil’s minion period sex. Which I have tried writing something for like four times but am never happy with it anyway the possibilities are endless for that oh my goddd you just know that Armand would be insatiable acting like she hasn’t fed in weeks <3

• I COMPLETELY AGREE WITH YOU!!!!!!! They are so butch/femme to me!!!!! Going to sob over the idea of Daniel bathing Armand, she’d bust out all the especially fancy expensive products and be so painstakingly thorough in washing her and then drying her off and massaging her with lotion… wailing 😭🥹. Genuinely I think there is so much romance/love in doing something for your partner particularly if it’s not your thing so I think Daniel taking the time to learn hairstyles and makeup to pamper Armand would really hit her right in the heart! They have a very sappy and emotional night over Armand’s spa treatment

• I DID NOT KNOW THIS THANK YOU FOR TELLING ME <3 Gia… wow I can see why she was the first supermodel! I’m. Jgvjgvhg yeah I’m very onboard for this LMAO but like omg it’s literally them that’s such a great face claim!!!

Thank you for the dm content and the kind wishes!! 💜🫂

[freedominthedarkmp3]

Job interview affirmations I am the most employable person in the area. I am qualified for this. My character is enjoyable and I'm a delight to work with.

[digsys]

RECOMMENDATIONS gosh I love giving recs I hope you love these

(of course I have to start by saying like, I mean, I would obvi recommend everything I wrote...😏)

Ambrollins: https://archiveofourown.org/works/30551832 https://archiveofourown.org/works/32025898 both of these are really lovely explorations of Dean and Seth's relationship imo. I'd also recommend just going to ao3 user softambrollins page and reading all of her stuff.

Rolleigns: https://archiveofourown.org/works/2325926 this may qualify as having your no-thanks of antagonism but it's more that it's set during the canon-era of Seth and Dean being enemies. spibsy (aka lucy kennyanimega here on tumblr) is also another one where I'd also say just ready everything. they also have a super great FCW-era ambrollins fic.

Ambreigns: https://archiveofourown.org/works/19315507 (sex worker au with bottom Ro) https://archiveofourown.org/works/18675973 (Roman with pre-WWE Mox) https://archiveofourown.org/works/5639548 (coffee shop au)

OT3: https://archiveofourown.org/works/5555156 this is more Ambreigns than ot3 but still has ot3 vibes and it's a very sweet family story. https://archiveofourown.org/works/5289395 this one's basically college au pwp

here's a bit of a wild horse rec, depending on how you feel about Xavier Woods and meta in your fanfiction, but the entire premise of this is Xavier winds up in a relationship with Roman and Dean and explains shipping to Dean. it's delightful and hilarious. https://archiveofourown.org/series/404013

SARAH !!!!!! HELLO THANK YOU i've only read the descriptions of these but i'm already obsessing damn

i will be consuming all of the fics from the recced authors (including yours, my ridiculously talented friend) and alSO the fcw/pre-wwe stuff..... thank you very much i genuinely LOVE fics from that period sm and i am so excited to read those!!!! you are truly providing me food for the weekend and i am forever in your debt

[yoinkschief]

Also sorry for all the asks about Tom he’s my special lil guy

Don't apologize ! I love them so much ! Tom is a special lil fella I love him so much :)) and besides, him and Tord are the one's I've given the most thought to anyway (unfortunately my brainrot like to play favorites)

plus these help me with world building :)