#hairy retired dream au

[valeriianz]

Retired!Dream with facial hair, inspired by @watercubebee's art here!

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Dream stared at the reflection of himself in the foggy mirror, his fingers pressing into the warm skin that was now his very human face. The pads of his fingers were soft along the strange texture of his jaw, prickly dark hairs that had begun to grow.

Dream knew what this was– facial hair, Hob had it. Dream had enjoyed the burn it left along his skin when they kissed, had curiously observed Hob when he would trim or shave it, usually with a device that buzzed so it was never too short. The human experience of maintaining and grooming had been fascinating, back then. Dream loved to observe and learn and judge, of course, why humans did the things that they did. 

Hob was always so patient with Dream, explaining why he chose to maintain his scruff, and how “... I don’t see you complaining about it,” said with a smirk and a wink. Of course Dream was a naturally curious entity, he gathered pleasure from Hob’s experiences and stories. Dream of the Endless knew everything, was well aware of the knowledge of men through their dreams alone, their fantasies and nightmares. He had been very content to observe from afar– human beings and what brought them happiness or hardship always seemed so trivial and banal. Something about Hob Gadling, his persistence, his eternal optimism, was different. It made Dream stick around when otherwise he’d grown impatient.

Hob was a fighter, an enigma, something to study under a microscope. And after hundreds and hundreds of years, Dream began to admire and wonder at the mystery that was Hob Gadling. Began to relate to his experiences, growing something substantial in the meantime, something grounding.

Hence why Dream had made the decision to become like Hob Gadling; human. 

There had been trials and tribulations (forced to make small talk with strangers, using the bathroom, brushing one’s teeth, the dreaded ordeal of going to the grocery store and searching for food). But Dream hadn’t anticipated the hair.

He did not care what he looked like, in the waking world. The discovery that his body produced testosterone and therefore, hair, was startling. Dream was a being of absolute control. He couldn’t control this.

But it was… interesting.

The stubble, as Hob liked to call it, on Dream’s face had gotten quite long in the past few days. Dream dug his fingernails (another nuisance, trimming fingernails. A waste of time) into the black bristles and scratched, tilting his chin to look down his throat, grumbling softly at the realization that the hair descended downwards as well.

A knock on the door gave Dream pause, gaze stuck on the mirror as Hob spoke, his voice muffled behind the door.

“Dream? You alright in there?”

With his eyes still roving over his face, Dream spoke up.

“Come in.”

Hob opened the door and Dream watched, out of his peripheral, as he approached.

“Looking at something nice?” Hob teased, pressing his front against Dream’s naked back and winding his arms over his waist, the towel there shifting but otherwise remaining tight around Dream’s hips.

“This is unsightly.”

Hob notched his chin over Dream’s shoulder to see what Dream saw in the reflection. He chuckled as his eyes followed the movement of Dream’s fingers on his jaw, down to his chin.

“You’re just not used to it, is all.” Hob pressed a kiss to the end of Dream’s bony shoulder. “And I happen to think it looks very fetching on you.”

Dream huffed, unconsciously leaning back in Hob’s hold, discreetly delighting in the feeling of Hob’s broad chest, covered in a thin cotton shirt, warm against his damp skin. 

“You think everything looks ‘fetching’ on me,” Dream stated matter-of-factly, causing Hob to chuckle softly, his lips traveling across Dream’s shoulder and up the side of his neck, playfully nibbling along the way.

“And I am always right.” His fingers pinched Dream’s hip bones before descending lower, forcing Dream to bite back a jolt of surprise at the tickling sensation. Especially as Hob’s hands, stark in color against Dream’s milk-white flesh, began to caress the line of hairs that had begun to grow under his belly button as well.

Dream’s breath, another anomaly that he was fascinated by, hitched audibly as Hob’s fingers dipped just a fraction below the towel wrapped around him.

“I also quite enjoy this.” Hob murmured against his skin, watching Dream in the mirror’s reflection. “I love seeing your human qualities come out. How your body responds to it.” 

Dream drops his hand to wrap around Hob’s wrist, meeting his chocolate brown eyes in the mirror as Hob takes a step to crowd Dream further against the counter, his hips slotting along Dream’s ass as he gets his clever fingers deeper, wrapping them around Dream and causing his jaw to drop in a silent cry.

Hob’s eyes flutter shut as he nuzzles his way up to Dream’s ear, bumping his nose against the coarse hairs at his jaw, biting it gently.

“Let me show you how much I love it.”

In response, Dream turns his head and captures Hob’s mouth in a burning kiss.

—----------------------------------

A few days go by and in that time, the scruff on Dream’s face only becomes longer, individual hairs popping up as far up as his cheek bones, and Dream scowls as they even begin to curl.

“I want it off.”

Hob looks sideways at Dream in the doorway to the bathroom. “What?”

Dream stands, that attractive frown only making Hob– who’d been trimming his own beard before the interruption– slowly begin to smile.

Dream points to his face. 

Hob raises his brows as he gives Dream a once over. 

“Your scruff?” Hob clicks his tongue as Dream huffs impatiently, affirmatively. “But it really does become you.”

“I do not care for it. Remove it.”

Hob chuckles lightly, turning back to the mirror to finish up his grooming.

“Always polite,” he quips lowly, tilting his chin as he works. “Give me a mo’ and in the meantime, take a shower.”

After Dream is clean and his skin is warm to the touch, Hob has him seated in a stool he pulled from the kitchen, keeping a warm towel around his face while Hob gathers his equipment.

Dream watches silently, his eyes tracking Hob’s movement before finally meeting his gaze as Hob drapes another small towel over Dream’s shoulder.

He removes the towel from Dream’s face and stares at him, causing Dream to raise a brow.

“What?”

Hob sighs, bringing both of his hands, cool from a fresh wash, around Dream’s face, thumbs stroking his cheeks.

“Just saying goodbye.”

Dream is unable to stop himself from rolling his eyes, another human trait that he’d been having a hard time tamping down.

“Perhaps once I am ‘used to it,’ as you say, I may consider growing it out again.”

Hob’s eyes seem to sparkle with excitement.

“Yeah?” At Dream’s nod, Hob gives his cheeks a brief squish, making the skin bunch up around Dream’s mouth and his frown deepen.

Hob laughs softly, the crinkles around his eyes deepening, striking Dream down and reminding him why he loved Hob so much. The laugh lines on his face, centuries of smiles and laughter etched onto his skin forever. A trait that made Dream himself smile more, enamored by the history there, in not just Hob’s laugh lines, but the wrinkles of his brow too. Years of hurt and frustration carved deep enough to leave memories that Dream could trace with his fingers, his lips. The stories Hob’s skin alone could tell made Dream want to trace constellations upon it.

Hob leaned forward and kissed the tip of Dream’s nose, breaking him out of his stupor. “I look forward to it.”

Dream had to admit, as Hob prepared him for his shave, that he quite enjoyed being pampered. 

Hob had lathered a thick cream upon Dream’s cheeks, mouth, and neck with a horse hair brush, his eyes gone serious, gaze studious as he worked and Dream once again, could do nothing but watch, sitting still as Hob took up a blade and began carefully stroking it down the side of Dream’s face.

“A straight razor,” Hob spoke eventually, his voice quiet, hot breath puffing against Dream’s ear. “Is my favorite for a close shave.” He swipes the blade on the towel resting on Dream’s shoulder, cleaning it before going back in with short, sharp strokes.

“Never goes out of style…” Hob murmurs, his free hand pulling slightly on Dream’s skin to keep it taut. “Also doubles as a weapon, eh?”

He gives Dream a cheeky grin.

“Have you slit many throats using a straight razor, Hob Gading?” Dream makes sure to speak once the blade is safely away from his skin.

Hob hums, going back to Dream’s jaw, going with the grain of Dream’s hair.

“Sweeney Todd style?” Hob pulls back to give Dream a look. “Can’t say I have. Though, in other instances…” he trails off, not finishing his sentence, leaving Dream to guess the answer.

They are silent for a long while after that, the only sounds filling the air being the grazing of the blade against coarse hairs and Dream’s own breathing. It tickles Dream’s ears, the gentle vibrations of the blade, and he continues to study Hob to distract himself from the sensation.

There is an intimacy here that isn’t lost on Dream. The trust he places in Hob’s very capable hands. Hands that have seen violence, committed crimes most egregious. Hands that were calloused over from physical labor and then softened by wielding a pen. Dream was fascinated, watching how Hob’s fingers held the blade, sure and confident, bringing it down swiftly, a tame version of a sword. 

All while performing something so… domestic. These hands had also healed and loved, touched Dream with such reverence, held him with gentle astonishment, as Hob admitted freely how lucky he was to have Dream in his life. Making love to him slow and deep, but also hard and brutal, fingers interlocked with Dream’s and holding him in place, keeping that connection. 

And in this moment, with Hob’s hands touching him fastidiously, attention focused solely on him, Dream felt relaxed and safe, enjoying the experience more than he’d ever admit.

It was over far too soon, Hob taking up the towel to wipe off any remaining shave cream and instructing Dream to rinse his face with cold water.

Once dry, Hob massaged an after shave balm into Dream’s skin, catching his eyes and smiling almost shyly.

“You were very distracting, you know.” Hob says, pulling Dream to standing. “Watching me the whole blessed time.”

Dream’s head tilted a fraction as he brought a hand up to feel his smooth skin.

“I like watching you work.”

Hob huffed, his smile widening as he playfully tugged Dream’s hair.

“Go on, take a look,” he gestured behind Dream to the mirror.

Dream obliged, sweeping his gaze over the smooth skin he had been used to wearing his entire existence and hummed in approval.

“Next time,” Hob said, tossing the towel in the hamper. “I’ll properly show you how to shave, so you can do it yourself whenever you’d like.”

Dream hummed, contemplating.

“Or you could always do it.”

“Oh?” Hob chuckled, turning Dream around and getting his arms around his hips. “Figures a king would overindulge in my humble services.”

“And you indulge me so well,” Dream crooned in a low voice, feeling his lips curl in an unconscious smirk that always caught Hob off guard. It was his favorite thing to do, if Dream was being honest, causing Hob to hesitate and laugh.

“I think I’m just whipped.”

Dream nodded with a considerate hum, leaning forward to brush his lips against Hob’s.

“Good.”

#dreamling #hob x dream #retired dream #Mere your art always inspires ahhh! #this was so cute i just had to write... something #and im so glad because ive been in such a funk #also another (semi) canon fic from me?? #who IS she?? #my writing #uneedited of course lulz #hairy retired dream au

[likesomekindofcheese]

Promised Part Five (The Great Mini-series, Arranged Marriage AU)

A/N: Here it finally is!!!! Sorry it took forever, life happens.

Word Count: 4K

Summary: When the Emperor’s behavior gets your families alliance with Russia in danger, you agree to marry his best friend Grigor in order to make sure the alliance does not fall apart. You’re tossed into the Russian court and into the arms and bed of a Russian count, dodging his jealous ex lover, trying to survive the unpredictability.... but...what about yuou two? Are you and Grigor finally...feeling something for each other?

Warnings: Swearing, drunkeness, mentions of sex and nudity, marriage, and an in universe reference I couldn’t resist.

“Come here Sonya! Come here!” Lady Svenska cooed, wiggling her fingers.

The puppy trotted to her and she squealed in delight.

Tatiana bent her knees, her lime green dress bunching below her like icing on a cake as she did.

“Sonya! Sonya come!” she gestured.

With a happy trot, Sonya waddled over. She reached up, her tiny tail wagging.

“Oooo, good girl! Good girl!”

You had been invited to a tea party with the other ladies. Although you had gotten closer to the empress, you feared if they would see you as an enemy. Especially hearing of Catherine’s last tea party with them. So walking in, you brought your secret weapon. And it worked.

The only woman it seemed who was not having the time of her life with what was happening was Georgiana. Dressed in her purple gown and largest wig, she sat a little slumped on the couch. She was sipping her tea every now and then but crossing her arms. She stared daggers at the dog and how it trotted. She preferred any small circle that came over to obsess over the latest scandalous affair, but even then she kept one eye on Sonya as if the dog was a wolf ready to attack. She didn’t dare say a word to you. And you didn’t say a word to her. But if there was nothing said, then nothing bad could happen.

Smiling, you helped yourself to a red macaroon, delighting in the crunch and cream of it’s taste. Lady Svenska walked over to you and asked.

“Can she do tricks?” she questioned.

“Almost. She’s getting better at walking. She used to pull and run a lot, but she’s better at being obedient.”

“And she doesn’t tear things up?” she asked.

“Only sometimes. I have to watch where my dresses are stored,” you answered.

“Ah! She’s such a good dog! How lovely of you to bring her here, Madame Dymov!”

Georgiana’s eyes went dark.

“Will you come to our ball throwing this evening! It is most fun! Mine might go another inch!”

“I’d be delighted to! And be sure to tell me more about that maid with the baron old enough to be her grandfather too! And with copous details!” you added on.

“Oh! I do like you! And what of the Empress?”

“Well, we read. And we chat…”

“But all that reading!? Isn’t it time consuming!”

“A little. Her books can take time. I reread pages over and over…but in the best way. I suppose. It keeps her happy.”

“If you have any gossip about her, please share!”

“I..I, uh, will!” you promise.

“First of all, have you any plans or gifts to give her on her birthday, it’s coming up in about a month!”

“Hmm, I don’t know…” you mumbled.

At that moment your husband entered the room. He seemed a little uncomfortable with all of the flowers and pastel dresses, eyeing birds singing ditties in shiny cages and macaroons piled to his chest on platters.

“Oh, Y/N…where is Y/N?” he asked to one lady in a pink dress and grey wig.

She pointed in your direction and he smiled.

As he walked by, he passed the couch where Georgiana was sitting. Her shoe tapped his calf and he turned.

“Hello, Grigor…” she said with a faded grin.

“Hello, George,” he replied politely. Somehow, your blood felt hot. But yet, the marriage was over, so what if they even talked? He probably just enjoyed you talking with him and occasionally sleeping with him. But no, they had to be soulmates. And it was better not to disturb them. After all, despite the suddenness of the marriage, it would work. He would be happy.

“How is the party?” he asked, hands placed behind the back.

“Going perfect. We’re being introduced to the loud, hairy creature that lifts her leg when she pisses. Her dog is there too.” She quipped with a surprisingly relieved smile.

You froze. Little Sonya recognized Grigor and ran up to him, oblivious to how white his face was turning. A few fans were spread, and you barely heard feminine whispers of “…quite bitchy…” It got a little quiet. Even with the string quartet in the back was playing at a piano as if they wanted to hear what would happen next to.

Getting up, you turned around to leave them alone. Let them take it out. Let him laugh, Let her smile. Maybe even fuck against the wall like you noticed the odd couple doing on a night of reveling in the palace, no matter who might see or hear.

“George. I can’t control what you do on your own. But when you are with me, you will not speak about my wife in that matter.”

Pausing, you turned around. A couple quiet tears fell down your cheeks.

“You’re an esteemed lady of the court with the world at your fingertips. She’s a poor creature thrown into an arranged marriage, stolen from another country, and little to never to see any of her family or friends again while you just lay down and let Peter put fruit in your pussy and drink champagne.”

Wiping away tears with your hands, you stood still, not sure what to say. Grigor continued, truly angered and passionate.

“I didn’t marry her because of you. And she didn’t marry me so she could have my cock when you couldn’t. I did this so that we all- we all-“ he gestured to the people in the room “won’t be fucking ripped apart by Swede’s in a fortnight thanks to her families army. You will show her what little compassion you have in your tiny heart. You could even show her an ounce of gratitude for the sacrifice she and I made for the safety of everyone here, including yours. Or else I could have said no and let the swedes stab you in your tits when you’re asleep in the emperor’s bed. And I wouldn’t lose a wink of sleep over it too. But I did.”

She froze. There was even a couple of gasps.

Scooping the tiny dog in his arms, he turned ot you promptly.

“I hope you’re enjoying yourself.”

“I…I am…” you answered. “But I’m tired, let’s go home and play cards.”

“I agree.”

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

 A week later, Grigor had partied so much with the Emperor last night, wrestling and playing with some man named Leon or whoever. You peaked in the door, and yawning, retired to your own apartments to sleep even if alone.

Waking up briefly in the grey air, you felt him crawling into bed at four in the morning. So you let him sleep in as you took Sonya on her morning walk. Besides, she would pout and whine if you didn’t walk at her certain time.

“Here you go, I know, Papa can’t be there-but I will,” you assured the dog.

You made your way through the halls into the gardens. Sonya was already getting bigger. The collar and leash made for her a while ago was getting snug on her fluffy body.

Enjoying the forest, you heard the rhythmic crunch of the leaves and sticks beneath Sonya’s prancing paws. The cold air stung your lungs in the best way. The sky looked clear and crisp.

Sonya pointed her snout in one direction. She began pulling and barking.

“What is it? Some sort of creature!” you thought, walking forward.

It wasn’t a mouse of squirrel, there was a person slumped against a tree, sitting on the dirt. Walking closer, you made out a dark green skirt and a hat, but a head of dark, curly hair made loose. She reeked of vodka and beer. Her face was pale to where she seemed ill, rather than the lovely cream color of her skin. And beneath her eyes there were several bags.

“G..Georgiana…”

She turned her head to you, squinting.

“Yes…” she grunted.

“What are you doing here?”

She began to laugh a little, bitterly.

“I could ask the same…what are you doing here?”

“I’m walking Sonya…she needs to be exercised so she won’t get into trouble from being bored,” you explained, gripping the leash.

“Huh, I know sometimes…sometimes Grigor goes with you…” her voice was deep and throaty, far from her usual speaking tone. As if every word was choked up.

She seemed so pitiful you didn’t have the heart to chafe her.

“Yes, yes he does…”

Her exhausted eyes wandered forward into the grove of trees. She kept speaking to you.

“Sometimes we’d walk together. Only if it was nice. We did everything together. Walking. Eating. Dancing. Bathing together. Did you know…I even got my portrait painted and he kept it in his room! Right next to his bed…he…he cared for me so much to where I was right there with him every morning even when I wasn’t next to him and now…now he hates me…”

She began to sniffle, and a few tears worked up.

“No. No, I don’t think he hates you at all…”

“Why did he speak to me that way?”

“He just…he got emotional. And he has been emotional because he loves you. He’s every bit as sad as you are for not marrying…”

Sonya walked over to the crying woman. Alerted by the sounds, she walked over and sniffed at her wet face. She broke out  a smile.

“But the truth is…in this court, there’s plenty of women who’ve fucked Peter. More than half. That’s just a fact of life. But I… I love it. I love having men want me, being worshipped, loved, is that wrong?”

“It’s normal,” you admitted. “it’s normal to want to be loved.”

“And the things it gives you. It’s not the least bad. I have all sorts of things. Dresses. Hats. A high position in court. Security. Comfort. Occasionally I can change laws and save lives with just a word-imagine that! And jewels. Jewels I used to dream of having. And I get to enjoy making love to a man who’s skilled at it. It might be the only way for a woman here to move up. That’s the way it is, is that wrong? Is it wrong to enjoy fucking and love a man too? For them to be separate men? They do it all the time and no one bats an eye bit when I do…”

She finally fell down into sobs.

“And he just...he couldn’t accept it. He claimed he loved me, and I… I love him, I still do, he just couldn’t accept me as I am and this world as it is…I thought he knew me…and that I knew him…”

She began to cry more; Sonya reached over and began to lick her face. She laughed at the ridiculous feeling of a dog’s tongue right on your nose and you began to laugh too.

“Georgiana…I’m so sorry I yelled at you that first day…I saw you as a threat and didn’t stop to think what you would feel. How I would feel if I was in your shoes…”

“Ugh, you’re…you’re as saccharine as…as…I don’t even know, Y/N. I’d put you in my…my mouth and my blood would rush, and they’d have to let it out with slugs.”

Taking out a handkerchief, you began to wipe her tears from her face.

“I’m not the one in tears…but…he used to keep a portrait of you…” you questioned.

“He did…is it there? Maybe….”

“Not anymore…” you explained flatly.

So that explained the circular area on the wall next to the bed.

“I know you really do love Grigor. And you care for him…but loving someone is hard. I love my family and friends back home, or unless I wanted to make all of them suffer or even get killed, I had to let them go to come here…sometimes, there are things you have to let go and move on from…” you assured her. You aren’t a bad person for wanting those things. You’re a smart person for figuring out how to get them. I admire you for it.”

“I just keep wondering…I keep wondering what would happen if he said yes…if he agreed to the terms…we’d be so happy…”

And he would see you with Peter and be miserable. Then god knows what would happen you thought.

You took her arm and helped her to her shaky legs.

“But there’s no use in that. Here, let’s get you back to the palace. I think after you get some water and some sleep, you might feel better…”

“But Y/N, Grigor I think…he’s in denial how Peter works here. If a woman needs anything in court, and if Peter picks you…he picks you. And, well, there’s nothing you can do about it…”

Your stomach lurched.

    “Grigor might want a faithful wife. He might’ve thought he got that with you but…defying the Emperor is a risk. Too huge. Why say no? After all, he’s a genius at fucking so it could be worse…”

“You need water, Georgiana. And you need to clean up. Then you’ll feel better…” you interrupted, trying to mother her away and ignoring the fear in your gut.

 But as you were strolling later in the week, returning from another one of the Empresses’s private discussions, you saw a few ladies eye down at the book. Perhaps they judged you. Perhaps they were jealous. But one bespecaled face saw you, smiled, and then hurried up.

“Orlo! How are you?”

“Y/N-er-Madame Dymov! Enough about me already- I heard the Empress gave you a copy of the Rousseau! What do you think!?” he asked excitedly.

His dark eyes glittered at the book in your hands. Holding it up to him you let him inspect it.

“I was…I was shocked at first. His ideas felt like…like a blast of cold wind. But I…he made good points. And I found myself agreeing after some time…” you explained with a shrug.

“He’s one of my favorites, and tehre’s so much…so much inside there. But I…I wish I could explain it all…”

“Let’s go to my place, I’ll call for a plate...” you offered with a shrug and a smile.

Introducing him to the drawing room, he settled down shyly on the seat in front of the fire. You brought in some tea with a strawberry cake and wound up talking for a straight hour. He got his own turn to pet on little Sonya as she licked his fingers from the cake crumbs. You discussed Rousseau, then he went on to talk about Voltaire, Plato, Paine. Ideas stretched you and you found yourself talking about things you could never imagine debating about with anyone. About people. Power. Faith. Life. Death. Purpose, if there was one at all. Your cup became cold and you had to reheat it by pouring some liquid into it.

Orlo glowed as he explained it all. He was not condescending. In fact, it felt like being in school with  a good teacher. You understood and appreciated it even more. You were amazed with the depth of knowledge he had. Beneath his mousy exterior, there was a brilliant mind. Perhaps even genius. You were amazed in him. Strands of his hair loosened out and he smiled more, seeming relaxed and confident. Far more confident than you ever knew him to be in public.

“But out of all of them, I think my favorite is…”

The door creaked as it opened.

His head turned and you saw Grigor walking in. His face was pink, and his eyebrows crossed.

“Hello Orlo, what are you doing with my wife?” he asked, his lips tight and his voice firm.

“I, uh…” he found himself blubbering. His posture slouched and his hands retreated.

Standing at once, you walked up to Grigor with as much poise as you could.

“The empress gifted me with a book and Orlo was asking me about it over tea, nothing more…” you explained plainly.

“It’s fascinating. Isn’t it!” you added, throwing back a look.

Orlo nodded shyly, getting out of the seat like it had spikes.

“Very.”

“Oh, alright…” Grigor replied quietly.

Once Orlo thanked you for hosting him and shuffled out, Grigor’s eyes never left his steps.

 He was quiet over dinner. You had to ask questions about his day and have Sonya’s begging fill the silence. Later, you changed into your nightgown to see Grigor was already in bed.

You saw him curl up to the other side. Not turning around, holding the blanket over his shoulders and leaving your side disproportionally cold.

With a huff, you placed your hands on your hips.

“What is it?” You had a guess, but you wanted to hear it from him.

“Nothing. Nothing’s wrong” he said in a tone that said something was definitely wrong.

“What is it…tell me…” you wheedled, sitting on the bed and leaning closer to him.

He turned around.

“I understand we agreed to follow orders to marry. Not for us. Our countries, the safety of your family and for their workers and tenets to not go hungry, for protection, the alliance, and for Russia to succeed against the Swedes… but I know you didn’t choose to marry me…if you…if you…are in love… then I guess it would make it easier…but you will at least be honest with me and not play around when you fall in love with some man!”

“In love? With Orlo?!” you added.

His head snapped back at the sound of his name.

“If you love the prick, then that’s fine! It will make you bear being here better- it’s all fine!” He if it will make you bear this, bear being married to me…”

“I’m not in love with Orlo!” you laughed, placing a hand on his shoulder. He flinched a little, but didn’t turn away.

“What…you aren’t? Both of you always talk together.”

 “I always talk with the empress, and Tatyana and everyone else too. They’re my friends. He’s my friend as well… and…I…I promised you I won’t hurt you. That I will do my best not to hurt you…and you’re obviously hurt…” you reasoned.

The clock chimed the hour in the back.

“I…yes, I was…I had memories of when…you know…” he muttered out, looking down.

You folded your arms and turned away from him.

“Well, have you ever kissed Georgiana since our marriage? I guess you can run back to her, like I’m apparently running to Orlo. Should I be worried about her?”

“Uh-no! Not at all! We’ve barely talked since the betrothal! I talk more to Sonya than I do to her in a fortnight!” he said, pointing to the dog curled asleep on her pillow.

You crossed your arms and started to laugh a little. A smile cracked on his thin face as well.

“If I have no reason to suspect you of anything with George, you have no reason to suspect anything of me and Orlo!” you reasoned with a shrug.

Leaning forward, you pulled more of the cover to your side. He relented.

 Both of you were tense. Words left your voice.

“Just dinner and drinks with your friend, nothing more. Perfectly normal.” You assured.

Even if it meant eating in his chambers with large portraits all over the wall and a big green bed on the other side. Peter stood up and greeted you both. His arms were wide, pearls dangling from his neck.

“Ah, hello! Join me!” Peter cheered. “Grigor-make yourself at home! There’s already some food.

You carefully walked in, placing yourself on the couch and folded your hands in front of your lap. Unsure of what to do or say. A finger nudged you.

“Here, Y/N…here’s the seat for you!” your husband said, taking his large hands around your waist and picking you up as you let out a smile.

Grigor placed you on his lap, like he did on your wedding. Smiling, you accepted the feeling of him nearby and settled your weight. The closeness far more natural than ever. Grigor’s arms were warm as they passed dishes around from one man to the Emperor. A serf poured a Kiev vdoka and you enjoyed yourselves.

“I tell you- fucked a horse! It’s just a rumor-but can you believe it!” he said.

Laughing in spite of yourself, you shook your head insisting “no, I don’t!”

Smiling. Laughing. Everything felt normal. You laughed so hard you almost snorted your drinkand covered your mouth, laughing more at the dirtier humor. Years ago, your mother would have become so uncomfortable at such words she would excuse herself and complain about it later. Laughs held back were finally released, you jaw uhrt and your cheeks felt hot.

“And that’s what hapoens when you use the duck whistle on the balcony-“Oh, Grigor! Have I fucked your wife yet?”

The drink you were sipping almost spat out of your mouth and you coughed it out. Both of you froze again. You felt Grigor tense up. His breath quickened. His face turned white and then red and then white again. His jaw clenched and his nostrils flared.

Turning your head back, you began to give a charming smile at the emperor, even giving the little half smile you noticed to do. You decided if the subject came up, you would be prepared.

“Your highness, of yes, of course we’ve fucked. Several times!” you said.

Where he couldn’t see, you kicked Grigor’s leg to alert him.

“Oh, really!” he said.

“Ah! What a Casanova you are, Emperor! Losing track! But…”

You circled the rim of your glass, and then added on.

“I have an eternally dry pussy, can’t suck cock to save my life, and an ass so tight that deflects any object near the hole so it’s been rather disappointing. It’s a miracle my husband tolerates me. He’s hardly been able to finish the job!”

He tilted his head, pondering it with a hmmmm. Glancing at Grigor, you quickly mouthed “play along.” His eyes bright, he nodded at you, and then to the Emperor in agreement.

“Yes! Fucking Y/N is a total disappointment. Remember her place? They’re boring, plain people even when fucking.”

Peter nodded in agreement, his eyes up to the sky as if thinking about the fake experience. Not that it was to think.

“Humph. I…I think you’re right. It was disappointing. Grigor, if you need me to order you a whore, let me know.”

You kept your hand on his and you saw his eyes dart in confusion and realization, his brain thinking a hundred thoughts.

“Please pour me another drink…” you said, holding your cup to a serf.

“Besdies, Catherine…she’s been having all these ideas about art. And I saw a portrait and I…I cried! I fucking cried-can you believe it? I never knew she could..could even make me feel like that!”

 As you left the chambers, you squeezed his hand. Both of you let out a breath and continued some nervous laughter until you were both home.

“That was brilliant!” He praised, sinking in relief in the chair. There was already a fire crackling, drawing warmth into the chilly room.

“I knew he would bring it up, soon. So, I might as well. Now you don’t have to worry about anything…at least for now…” you said with a shrug.

“Oh, but the party tomorrow…you’ll be careful. I think people will be very merry and he might…get carried away…”

“Just give him a galloon a vodka then, he’ll won’t be able to stand.”

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

As the party the next night raged on, it struck you that it was Grigor who was well on his way to drinking a gallon of vodka. The rooms glowed yellow orange with all of the candles. Stringed guitars played out dancing tunes with throaty Russian lyrics where although the words were hard to understand, you had to tap your toes. Women walked by with snakes draped over their necks and you stared in frightened awe at the creature, as if in Eden. Your own gown was a pale pink with bows on the stomacher, a ruffled skirt beneath the first one, and you hair done up in flowers and feathers. You even agreed to wear a beauty mark of a small dog on your cheek. Girgor himself had a grey wig and his finest, deep green suit. He eyed plates of vodka, reaching for two small glasses and downing them…and supper would be served in an hour.

You noticed and Empress and Emperor dancing. She swished her pale pink skirt and he twirled in a black skirt, carefree. It was almost like watching a fight, how they were both powerful yet matched each other.”

“Come on, you sad bastards!? Why aren’t you dancing!? Dance! I command you!” Peter cried out in joy.

“Y/N! Y/N- we haven’t danced too much-let’s dance! Dance with me!” Grigor insisted, pulling you further down.

“Grigor, that’s the vodka talking!”

The musicians were warming up for the next piece in the corner.

“I…I don’t know the…” you mumbled in a panic as other couples filled the floor.

“Oh no-just follow me!” He said with a big smile and his face flushed.

  Still you ran out with him, mimicking hand movements and your feet trying to keep up with the steps. If you felt him leading you somewhere, you followed. If you sepearted in lines, you kept an eye on him.

“Girgor…do the trick! The trick!” Peter insisted, running up in the middle.

Eyes wide, you saw your husband grab hold of your body.

“Here. Y/N! I can do it- hold on! Jump up.

He lifted you up in his arms and twirled you up, his arms adjusting to hold you up so that he held you up by your legs, your stomach to his face. You could hear him muffling beneath your clothes.

“We need smof practif…”

But Peter laughed and you heard loud applauding as faces turned to look at you. Even George’s own face had a smile, albeit a sad one.

He set you down.

“Let’s try it again, put your leg on my shoulder…now your other leg..ooof! Now, this one is better!”

He lifted you up so high, you realized you were on his shoulders, and emabarrasingly his head was near your crotch. The court applauhded and laughed and huzzahed. It was so fun you almost forgot your fear of being dropped. you laughed as you held onto his shoulders for deaer life, thrilled to see everyone smaller before you. As if they dhrunk or you became a giant. The chandeliers dripping with diamonds were easy to your touch, your fingertips grazed one as Grigor walked in a circle.

“Ha! I knew you could do it good chap!” Peter applauded before asking.

Grigor placed you down with a smile, he placed his hands on your cheeks and for a moment you thought he was going to kiss you, then his eyes wandered to some vodka and he took another shot.

 He was singing as the party ended late in the night. You struggled to support him over your shoulders.

“Grigor…be careful…”

Once you got into the room, Sonya woke up from her nap and barked, jumping at your feet. Staggering, you brought him to your bedchambers.

“Let’s get your clothes off…” you said, pulling his coat off and placing it on the floor.

“You wish to see me naked, you could’ve asked, darling…”

Sighing, you poured the hot water into the golden tub.

“If you don’t bathe, then you’re sleeping with Sonya…”

He leaned down in his shift and breeches to the wagging tail beneath him.

“Oh….hello doggie, cute doggie…good doggie…”

“To bath, Grigor!”

Eventually, you got him to bathe enough to where he didn’t reek of alcohol. Once he dried off, you pushed his breeches onto him.

“None of that tonight with you drunk off your head!”

“Can’t I at least kiss you?” he complained childishly.

“Fine, but it stops at kissing!”

Once you finally settled within your own sheets, legs and feet sore from dancing, you barely put the blankets over you when  you felt two large arms wrap themselves around you and hug you tight, pulling you close. He laughed a bit before kissing you on top of your head. You smirked and let him obloge. Then you felt him relax.

“Y/N, I love you….”

You froze solid, your stomach dropping.

“What?”

He took a hand and placed it on your cheek again, before it sloppily fell down.

“Y/N, my sweet angel…I love you…”

Shaking your head, you pulled the covers above you both.

“That’s the vodka talking, now go to sleep….”

He went back to holding you, turning you so that your back was turned to him, you felt and smelt his breath as he kept speaking.

“I love you, Y/N. I’m falling in love with you this minute and…I’m fucking terrified…”

You let his arms settle.

“Don’t wanna…get hurt, get shat on…but every day I’m….falling more in love with you…and it makes me both so happy and scared I could fucking scream…that was why Orlo fucking scared me, and Peter, that wonderful, bastard. I love him, but if he lays a hand on you, I swear to god…”

“Grigor…you need to sleep. You’re drunk. Only time will wear it off.”

Besides, it was better to not get your hopes up.

‘I can’t believe I’m fucking falling in fucking love all over again…never thought after George that I would….never would let myself…thought ”

“But Grigor…you….”

“I’d like to see you…see you happy. See your smiling face before I sleep.”

You gave him a small smile and his eyes fluttered shut.

“Grigor…do you…do you love me….do you really love me…”

You gave him a small smile. He then rolled on his belly, spread like a starfish. He was snoring deeply in minutes.

“Because I think I’m falling in love with you too…” you wanted to say.

taglist:  @retropetalss @queenlover05 @joesleee   @grigorlee@itsametaphorgwil @always-a-fairycat @foxinaforestofstars @simonedk @i-wished-upon-a-star-one-night @queenlover05 @xviiarez @kiainspace @gwilymleeisbae @writeroutoftime @staradorned @iwritefanficnotprophecies @panagiasikelia @marshmxllowfluf @rhapsodyrecs @sebastiistan​ @yourlocalmusicalprostitute @gwiilymslee @isitstraightvodka​ @cherry--coke​

[yes-dillman-yes]

Different Time, Different Life

Reddie/It/Superpowers AU

Paring: Eddie K. x Richie T. 

Summary: Richie and his best bud, Bill, take over their parent’s old job of protecting the people of DC. They take care of every criminal. Except for a certain villain that goes by the name The Dreamer. Ignoring their sexual tension, Richie and this villain has been archnemesis for two years. Until an ungodly being enters the picture and causes destruction that will make the good and bad of DC join sides and take down the true evil creeping on the streets and in our mind.

Words: 1.5k 

Warning: Smut, Language, Minor Character Death, Violence

part 1 // part 2

Third Person POV

January 24th, 2016

The night was cold and calm. Distant sirens gave Richie a certain comfort. Knowing that the police could do their job and he didn’t have to come save the day once again. Not that he didn’t like his job. Hell, Richie craved validation. He was still trying to get used to the whole superhero title. The title that he felt more pressured into holding than actually wanting to pursue.

Richie had only been doing this job for a month and he already felt overwhelmed.  

Cars passed, lights flashed everywhere, and people’s laughs heard from outside the bar he was currently standing in front of waiting for Bill filled the air. There was life everywhere around Richie, but he still felt alone. No one within his surroundings knew who he really was or the powers he held that was inherited from his now-retired father.

In the corner of the hero’s eye, he saw a short shadow move quickly. The figure was in all black and seemed as though they had a mask on. Behind the figure, two large assumed to be men were chasing after the person. He wasn’t quite sure who was the bad guy or not, but he felt a certain need to protect the man in the mask. Must have been his superhero instinct kicking in.

The three unknown figures turned the ally way about sixteen feet away from where Richie was standing. He could hear a scream and some intense rumbling sounds erupt from the hidden ally way. Using his sort of x-ray vision skills, he saw the people fighting and one man was on the ground. He walked closer to the scene, a conversation coming to his ears.

“Give us the money, you chump. We’re not here to play your foolish games.”

“Or I could tell you to fuck off. In my case, I like the second option.”

To the sounds of it, it seemed as though the two larger men were robbing the other man. Richie knew he had to help the guy even though it sounded like he could handle himself. So, he ran. What he was about to see next would definitely set him into shock.

“Help! Someone help me! It burns! It burns!” the once very stern voice of the large man was now screaming in horror.

“Sir, what’s wrong? There’s nothing on you,” Richie tires to calm down the man in his arm. But, the man just cries.

The hairy man that was once on the ground grabs the man crying out of Richie’s arms and starts to run the other way. But, before the men turn the corner a few words are shared.

“Stay away from us, you monster! Stay far away or you’ll regret it.”

Richie was surprised by the name the big man placed on the man in the mask. He wasn’t quite sure what the hell happened, why one of them was crying in fear, or who this mysterious man behind him was. But, to say the least, he was intrigued.

Once things calmed down and it’s only Richie and the man, Richie turns to the masked figure. “Who are you?”

At the sound of Richie’s voice, the man meets his eyes and forms a sad smile. Richie taking note that the mask only covers half of the man’s face with wacky black lined patterns.

“Call me The Dreamer,” a soft voice answers.

Richie almost laughed at the name. Not because the name had some comical value. But, the name sounded like a superhero name which kinda frightened Richie. He didn’t know that there were more people like him. Although, it would answer many of the forming questions in his head.

But, before Richie could even say a word, the man spoke once more.

“Love to stay and chat, but I don’t like to keep people waiting. See you later.”

With that, the man disappeared. It was as if the air just ate him up.

Richie stood there in the middle of the darkness and let his mind try to comprehend what just happened. A new uneasy feeling of adventure filled Richie.

“See ya later,” Richie whispers.

Present Day: March 4th, 2018

“Richie! Better suit up. Seems like your little boyfriend is robbing another bank,” Beverly yells from her seat facing a desktop computer, “Let’s not get sidetracked this time.”

With a roll of the eyes, Bill comments, “We al-all know Rich-chee can’t stay focused while Dreamer’s ‘sweet ass’ is right there.”

Small giggles fill the airy room.

Richie fidgeting with his blue and black suit, says, “You guys know I’m standing here, right? And we’re running late. Let’s go, Bill.”

“Alright, Captain. Lead the way.”

“Alright, aren’t you tired of playing the same game, babe? We’ve done this once too many times.”

The Dreamer turns around and his frown somehow turns down deeper. Annoyance covering his face.

“Get out of here, Trashmouth. Not in a mood for a fight today.”

Richie leans against the counter dividing him and his not so secret enemy crush.

“You love seeing my handsome face, Dreamy Bear,” Richie says in a sickeningly sweet voice while he flicks his wrist, closing the bank register.

The masked man signs in annoyance and surprise, not thinking the mother man could close the register.

“You’re right. Sometimes seeing that handsome face of yours makes me wanna be a good guy,” he says with a straight flirtatious voice. Now leaning against the counter, face to face with Richie.

Stumbling over his words, “Re-really? ‘Cause-”

“God, no!” The Dreamer’s loud laugh erupts into the room, “But, seeing your face was priceless.”

Richie’s face went completely red. He felt like a fool. Half for believing his enemy and for doing something he said he wouldn’t. Getting sidetracked.

“Well, I gotta go. But, thanks for the laugh,” the villain picks up a bag of cash while he says his goodbyes.

But, before he could disappear, Richie grabs his wrist. A shockingly strong grip holds The Dreamer in place. The two make intense eye contact.

“You’re not going anywhere, but jail this time. I promise that I will visit, babe.”

“Don’t call me that. And if you wanna play hardball, fine,” the villain breaths out heavily, “Let’s go.”

At the speed of light, The Dreamer flips over the counter and lands right on his feet. He turns to a shooked Richie and lets a devilish smile spread across his face. He throws a punch at Richie but misses. 

Richie swipes his foot across the floor and makes his enemy fall to the ground on to his back. A grunt leaves the small man’s mouth. 

For a split second, Richie almost felt bad. Almost.

Richie hovers over The Dreamer and in a pirate accent, “You gotta try harder than that, son.”

“Don’t you dare touch me again.”

Richie has seen The Dreamer’s powers before. He doesn’t use them often, but when he does use them, it’s usually on somebody else. Richie has only experienced the wrath of his enemies powers once. The one time was enough for Richie to know that no one should mess with this man. This man was not just a monster, he was also a freak. But, so was Richie.      

“Come on, dude. Just give up? Aren’t you tired of being evil? Jail time could do you some good,” Richie says in a voice so generic. 

The Dreamer’s eyes start to glimmer with something unexplainable. Something in Richie’s words hit him. Hard. “Evil? You really think I’m evil?”

“Well, I did-”

“I’ll show you evil.”

Richie didn’t exactly know what was happening at first, but then he saw the faces. The bright colored faces that matched their brightly colored clothes, staring at him. Eating their way through Richie. He felt sick. 

Even though Richie could no longer see the villain, his voice whispers through Richie’s ears. “Watch what you assume. ‘Cause you obviously have no clue who I am. I’ll see you around, Trashmouth.”

Richie would’ve loved to say something, but his lungs felt tight and the clowns were cornering him. Stepping closer while their laughs got louder. Everything seemed like a dream. Or more so a nightmare. He felt a large hand press against his back, crawling to his neck. Right before the hand gripped Richie’s neck, he heard Bill’s booming voice. 

“Hey, hey, are you alright?” Bill’s heavily worried voice ask Rich. 

Richie didn’t know how to react. The air in his lungs felt like smoke and his blood was rushing. Just a second ago he was going to be chocked by a clown. Now he’s struggling to breathe while his best friend is telling him to calm down. And The Dreamer is gone. 

Fuck.

“Bill, god bill, his gone. I missed him again. Dammit,” Richie speaks in a rushed defeated voice. 

“It’s fine. Well, get him next time. I just need to know if you’re okay,” Bill says calmly, “Are you okay?”

Richie nods his head, still stuck on what the hell just happened. “I’m okay, Bill. But he got away. The people are gonna lose faith in us.”

“I said it’s fine. Now, let’s get out of here. The police will clean up the mess,” Bill orders, “Look up, you’ll see him again.”

And Richie will see him again. But, their meeting won’t be like any other.

Taglist:

@friendly-uris          

Ask or comment to be added to the taglist!

#reddie #gay #eddie kaspbrak #richie tozier #bisexual #it 2017 #no pennywise #superpower au #hero #villain #fears #dreams #smut #bill denbrough #stanlon #benverely #billverely #beverly marsh #stan uris #ben hanscom #mike hanlon #death #flashback #reddie tag #reddie fic

[perksofbeingawaifu]

HAPPY BIRTHDAY @mongoose-bite!!! Crunchy is one of my favoritest fic authors and also one of the best friends I have made in this fandom! EVERYONE GO WISH HIM A HAPPY BIRTHDAY! And while you’re at it, go read and leave a comment on his fics! I’m going to list twelve of my personal favorites below (altho I could go on and on and on until I run out of fics!). LONG POST TO FOLLOW!

Fuck: My Life 

eruriren, snk

A streak of bad luck leaves Eren desperate for cash, and desperate enough that making porn doesn't seem like such a terrible idea. He's young, he's cute, he's horny, and his favourite studio is currently hiring. It seems like fate up until he learns that his two most admired actors, whom he spent the majority of his teenage years appreciating, have recently retired.

Still, he is nothing if not determined, and he sets out to see if he can persuade them to make one last movie. And then he gets to know them as people, and things start getting complicated.

Reasons I like it: This is one of the first fics of crunchy’s I ever read and I was obsessedddd. I swear I would be checking my phone for an email on update day like >.> c’monnnnnn. It’s eruriren and super persistent but adorable Eren. Erwin is charming and crunchy’s Levi is always so understated and muted it makes my heart ache. I don’t even like porn star aus but crunchy always makes me love tropes and ships I don’t usually like. 

A Sound Like Breaking Glass

ereri, snk

Eren lives by the ocean in a peaceful, untroubled world with his classmates. He studies, dreams of going out to sea on the boats to see what lies beyond the horizon, spends his afternoons by the water's edge with his friends, and sneaks out at night more often than he should. His greatest ambition is to join the crew of the Wings of Freedom, but after making a disastrous first impression on Captain Levi, joining his company will be easier said than done. Despite the insults and the bruising, Eren is determined and he vows to do whatever it takes to impress the captain before the ship is out of drydock.

Reasons I like it: Ngl, it took me several attempts to get into this fic bc I at first thought it was going to be a pirate au? I have the worst reading comprehension I swear. But it is not, it is perfect and I love it and it is actually my absolute favoritest fic of crunchy’s so even though it is in the #2 spot here, second is best. :P The characters are charming and the scenery is beautiful and I can’t say anything more about it without spoiling it. ;3 BUT AHHHHHH!!!

Breach! And Other Stories

winmin, snk

A collection on one-shots written for Winmin Week 2014. Mostly canonverse.

01. Superior and Subordinate: Armin was conflicted. They were superior and subordinate after all, kept apart by rules and regulations and just plain common sense. But the heart wants what it wants, and it wasn't like there was much else that made Eren smile lately. 02. Stained Hands: Armin wasn't trying to wash away the blood with ink. 03. Alternate Universe: Erwin is too big for his umbrella. 04. Role Swap: Their first night together after Erwin is rescued. 05. Hurt and Comfort: Faded names remind Erwin of a boy he met long ago. 06. (Free Slot): Breach! Armin goes to the ends of the earth for an interview. 07. The End: Armin insisted on the hood.

Reasons I like it: you know how some fics can ruin you on a ship and you can’t stand it? Well crunchy single handedly rescued winmin for me. I still think about Breach! A LOT. THE WHALES. WINMIN CUTENESS! ARMIN! ERWIN! BLONDE GENIUSES! 

My Old Friend

ereri, snk

When Levi was a teenager, the unrequited love of his life was Eren, his best friend's father. Fifteen years later, Levi finds himself back in Whitecrest Cove to sell his late uncle's house.

This story was mostly written for Ereri Week 2015.

Reasons I like it: Imagine, it’s the swinging 2015′s at the height of the the dilf!eren craze, in walks crunchy and suggests...what if...gdilf!Eren. Women are screaming, babies are crying, grown men walking around in a daze because their minds are so blown. No, but really, it’s actually a very poignant story of Levi reconciling his childhood and then grief as an adult and reconnecting with Eren who is a surfing silver fox. It’s quite beautiful. 

Blood Of An Englishman

hartwin, kingsman

Harry's brains dried in the hot Kentucky sun. A fly landed on an exposed piece of his skull for a few seconds and then buzzed off. His blood seeped into the dust. In the distance sirens began to wail, and the crisp, elegant click of patent leather oxfords on concrete drew to a halt beside his ruined corpse.

“Oh dear,” someone said sadly, although Harry wasn't alive to hear it. He heard, saw, felt, and was, nothing.

Death is not another country. Death is the deep blue sea.

Or, the one in which Harry is officially dead, actually a wizard, occasionally a small dog, and utterly unable to keep his distance from his young successor.

Reasons I like it: This fic has everything, Harry Hart dead but kindof not dead. Suddenly a wizard. A femme fatale Italian milf sorceress. Eggsy’s cute lil butt. Magic. It’s some impressive world building and I prefer it to the sequel we got instead. 

Too Hot To Handle

erejean, snk

Jean has recently joined MI6's elite agents as 003 and he couldn't be happier. His career is going places, his degree is paid for, his job is exciting, if somewhat dangerous, and his handler is the beautiful Mikasa, whom he will definitely certainly ask out soon.

Until it isn’t. Until Mikasa is replaced by Eren, who Jean quickly decides is absolutely the last person he wants talking in his ear when he’s getting shot at.

Reasons I like it: Well first of all I had to include this bc it was a bday present for me. :P I think this might be the only fic of crunchy’s I’ve read from Jean’s perspective? And I love him. He’s a cocky lil asshole and I still scream over this line: “He couldn’t believe how lucky he’d been to score Mikasa. She’d transferred from Foreign Office around the same time he’d been given his double-oh designation, and not only was she incredibly efficient, but she was absolutely gorgeous. Jean had seen an awful lot of movies and TV shows; he knew how this went. Sooner or later his roguish charm and devil-may-care attitude would thaw her icy exterior and the sex would be mindblowing.” HELP. I”M SCREAMING. Also it has SUPER SEXY hairy Eren (because crunchy knows my kinks, shush).

The Beneficent Gentleman

hartwin, kingsman

An act of heroism sees an unusual offer made to one Eggsy Unwin; if he can get accepted he can go to Oxford, all expenses paid. All he has to do in return is pass his classes, and keep his mysterious benefactor informed as to his educational progress via the old-fashioned medium of the handwritten letter.

An AU loosely based on Daddy Long-Legs.

Reasons I like it: this is incredibly ambitious for a fic. It’s all in epistolary form aka letters. It’s quite an undertaking to write but the result makes it seem so effortless. Plus I like handsome benefactor from afar Harry. 

Season and Circumstance

hartwin, kingsman

Circumstance dictates that there must be a great distance between Eggsy Unwin and Lord Hart, but the seasons turn and bring them together, and seasons turn and pull them apart. Seasons always change. Circumstances must be acted on. A Regency AU.

Reasons I like it: Hartwin Regency AU? Need I say more? Also crunchy always writes the best frot scenes like...if you want quality frot, look no further than crunchy’s fics. 

Magic Does Not Make A Garden

ereri, snk

Levi grows his garden peacefully on the edge of the desert, until the day he finds a boy with wings dying of exhaustion and takes him in.

Reasons I like it: Fuck this fic makes me wistful and teary eyed and hopeful all at once. King of crunchy’s short fics by far. I think about this fic nonstop. It’s too short to spend time describing it, just read and be full of FEELINGS for the rest of the day.

A Bird in the Hand

ereri, snk

Little ever changes in the Underworld, and few visit, but the arrival of a single songbird foretells a coming change for both the Underworld and its god, Eren.

Spring is here.

Reasons I like it: Hades/Persephone AU!!!!!!!!! Except Levi is Persephone and likes to wrassle and is so full of life I love seeing him like this. Also crunchy describes Levi’s naked figure so beautifully in the water i started salivating and it was so powerful it inspired beautiful art of the heichou booty by syn (nsfw link).

The Hero Who Traveled To Faerie in Search of a Bride

yurabek, yoi

The king is dead and in accordance with the custom all worthy aspirants to the crown must set out in search of a bride deserving of the throne. For one soldier, distinguished in battle, it was not enough to seek a princess among the neighbouring kingdoms, because for many years his heart had pulled him towards the distant spires and violet hills of Faerie, a land forbidden to mortals, for so few return...

Reasons I like it: sexy elf otabek with long hair :O and brave knight yura. I love the descriptions of the four courts and Victor is so goddamn perfect. The world building is sublime and everything feels so lush and perfect. ayaaaa to visit the fae for a day... 

Under Neon Skies

sheith, voltron

After the battle with Zarkon Shiro finds himself in an alien city, on an alien planet. Here Zarkon rules triumphant, the Black Lion tame under his hand, and Shiro's own face appears on glowing billboards fifty feet high to advertise the arena fights as their reigning champion.

Shiro knows he has to get home because his universe needs him, but this universe just might need him more. He pins his hopes on the Blade of Marmora and learns that in this reality, Keith did not grow up on Earth...

Written for the Sheith Big Bang 2017. Not season 3 compliant.

Reasons I like it: i got to beta this fic but honestly crunchy doesn’t need beta-ing at all hahaha so it was a real treat to see it before anyone else. I love the alternate universe and the way it’s described so perfectly. Everything feels truly alien and you can feel Shiro’s loneliness. T_T And I love raised with the Blade Keith. He’s extra feisty. Also bc the most recent season has confirmed that alternate realities exist this is canon and nothing you can say or do will convince me otherwise.

The Garden of Wild Roses

allurivan, voltron

The galaxy might now be at peace, but Allura is not. A warrior without a war, a princess without a kingdom, she decides to tuck herself away for a while, take a well earned break and work out what to do with the rest of her life.

Earth is the obvious choice, the planet still coming to grips with a crowded universe but almost untouched by the recent war. Shiro organises a long holiday smoothly and swiftly, and it doesn't occur to Allura to ask if she's the only lonely alien he's installed in the village of his childhood.

Reasons I like it: Okay i know, i picked 13, but that just goes to show you that i’m a liar. This fic has so many wonderful character analyses and I love how it shows Allura coming to grips with a war that has been won. And also I’m a slut for good pussy eating scenes what can I say. 

#fic recs #snk #voltron #kingsman #yoi #ereri #erejean #eruriren #hartwin #yurabek #sheith #allurivan

[elbiotipo]

The Force Awakens: The Crappy Apartment Block AU:

In which our heroes move to a rundown aparment block with poor plumbing and noisy old neighbors:

Rey is an archeology student who just moved in because it was close to college and it was cheap. She collects and sells vintage stuff and electronics, and so she knows to repair a lot of things; a very appreciated skill on an apartment block that seems stuck together with duct tape and bubble gum. Rey seems to be a bit of a loner, and being from a small desert town she's not used to life in the city, but once she's convinced you're trustworthy, Rey's actually fun, even hilarious, to have around. Nobody's quite sure what was her life before moving in (only that it was quite hard) so it's better to have her on her good side too. It was (and still is) hard to leave from home, so she's happy that her new neighbors seem to be good people. Most of them.

Finn has recently moved to the block, too. He's a war veteran with a lot of bad memories. He often can't sleep because of bad dreams (and noisy neighbors). Since he left the military, he isn't quite sure of what to do with his life, unacostummed to the lack of strict schedules. Despite this, he's an absolute ray of sunshine to be around; he's funny and witty and always eager to help. Unfortunately he is very vocal with his complaints about the neighbors and the general state of the building. That proves to be an excellent ice breaker at least... Currently he's working at the local grocery store, but he's been hanging more with Rey and Poe. Since he had a very sheltered childhood, he's always up to try new things, with often hilarious results.

Poe works as a flight instructor, so everybody wonders why does he rents such a cheap apartment. He actually uses it only to sleep, since he's always doing something; when he's not flying he's volunteering with Leia, working out at the gym, hanging out with his 'squad' (he always calls them that) and looking absolutely flawless. As you might've guessed, Poe's a fun guy to be around, and lately he's been taking out Finn and Rey to get to know the town and loosen up a little; hell, maybe teach them to fly. His pet, Bibi is an extremely cute and friendly orange kitty, who wanders the apartments meowing until he has his cuddles. Needless to say, everybody loves him. (The cat. But Poe too.)

Kylo lives with Hux next door to Rey. He′s basically an NEET who writes bad poetry, listens to obscure (and terrible) metal music and plays League of Legends all night long... without headphones. Even if he had them, the swearing when he ragequits a game is just as annoying. The rest of the building know virtually all of Kylo's personal problems (and he has a lot of them...) thanks to his loud, long rants. Much to the dissapointment of his parents, he's also an edgelord who collects fake Nazi memorabilia (and doesn't even realize they're fake). Hux, meanwhile, thinks of himself as a very cultured, sophisticated ubermensch, but he's actually a pretentious asshole who goes into racist rants and hears the same operas over and over. At least they pay rent. Well, Hux does.

Phasma wakes up at 4:00 AM to start her daily workout (incidentally, waking up most of the building). She has so much excersise equipment, it's a wonder she has space to sleep at all, especially with how TALL she is. She's the kind of gal who will laugh at your face if you have trouble lifting weights. Phasma is the manager of the grocery store where Finn works, and she's always nagging him and the other employees about the smallest details; God help you if you take an extra minute on your break. Nobody's quite sure why she hangs out with jokers like Kylo and Hux, but they go way back.

Snoke is a creepy old guy who sells weed to Kylo and Hux. Lives in a sewer, probably.

Threepio is a very polite and kind old man, even if he often complains about the tiniest things. He's always well dressed, and it seems he was the butler of Leia a long, long time ago. He lives alone with Artoo, a cute Chihuahua-something mix who changes between 'good boy' and 'barking nightmare' within seconds. Threepio spends his retirement walking Artoo and talking to Leia and whoever stops to listen, overwhelming you with endless stories and 'interesting' facts, plus his personal opinions on the state of the building. Chatting with him gets tiring soon, but he means well.

Leia comes from a very rich family (according to Poe), but you wouldn't know looking at her. She once travelled around the world with Han and Luke helping people in countless adventures. Even today, still volunteers to everything; soup kitchens, animal shelters, awareness marathons; you name it and she's there (and Poe too, most probably). She's sarcastic, badass, takes shit from nobody and is everybody's grandma. Of course, she's also Kylo's mother. She lives directly upstairs from him, so she often comes downstairs to kick Kylo's door and lecture him. He's not her only source of stress, since she also often clashes with her ex-husband...

...Han, who lives with his best friend Chewie and has a small courier service a couple blocks down (said courier service is only the two of them and an old van with faded flame decals). He comes every so and then to the apartments to (unsucessfully) talk to Leia and (also unsucessfully) try to get some sense into Kylo's head. Han isn't a bad guy, but he's a mess who still lives in the past, and he often gets in monetary trouble. Chewie is a BIG hairy guy with a very thick accent (nobody's quite sure where he came from), who is Han's friend since time inmemmorial. Despite this, Chewie has his own life; when he's not with Han, he's spending time with his girlfriend Maz, a strange new-age hippie lady who owns a hipster bar in an old building downtown.

Luke is the owner of the whole complex, but he's never around. He only occassionally appears to collect rent. The older tennants are old friends, but the new ones know little about him, except that he's Leia's brother. Rey, Poe and Finn amuse themselves with theories about the True Nature of The Luke.

#sw #star wars #tfa #long post #au #I was bored okay #this turned out longer that I expected #oh well enjoy #cosas mias #my writing

[valeriianz]

I really liked your facial hair! Dream, if u wanted, could there be a part 2?

part 1!

While Hob was in a losing battle when it came to Dream’s facial hair, the Nightmare King-turned-human didn’t appear to have any qualms over the accumulated hair… elsewhere, on his person.

Not to say that Dream was completely hairless, before. He always had a thatch of hair on his pelvis, perhaps understanding that’s what Hob preferred? Or maybe Dream liked it? Hob never questioned it. But that would explain why Dream appeared so nonchalant about the additional hair currently growing on his body.

For starters, Dream seemed to enjoy the leg hair, curling up with Hob in bed and tangling their limbs, wrapping his ankle around Hob’s and sliding their bodies together, enjoying the friction.

The chest hair had been fun– Hob combing his fingers in wiry black strands in blind fascination– he’d never seen anything but smooth, pore-free skin on Dream before and didn’t know what to do with it. (He’d broken out of that trance real fast to nuzzle into it like a cat before fucking Dream and then coming all over his newly furred chest).

It was the stripe of hair, below Dream’s belly button, that was currently giving Hob pause.

Hob sat at his kitchen island, sipping on his morning coffee, and listening to Dream speak. 

Or, trying to. 

Dream wore a black tank top and a stolen pair of Hob’s flannel pajama bottoms, which were fighting for their life to stay on Dream’s narrow hips. Slunk low and exposing Dream’s Adonis belt and sharp hip bones that Hob loved tracing with his fingers and teeth.

Dream was saying something about the show they were seeing tonight as he stretched up on tiptoes to reach a box of cereal on the top shelf. Hob’s eyes traveled up from Dream’s gloriously firm abdomen to the tension in his bicep, resting his gaze on the flash of jet black armpit hair. Hob remembers how he’d been stunned silent, as always, by the underarm hair. Perhaps it was the transformation of Dream’s physical form, however minuscule, that got Hob all riled up. Hob was a strange person in that, he liked change. Reveled in it. If everything had stayed the same forever, he’s not sure he’d enjoy his immortal life. But that’s what made humanity so fun and fascinating… things were constantly changing.

And now Dream was, too.

Hob’s gaze shamelessly followed Dream as he moved, setting the box down on the counter and reaching up now for a bowl. Hob felt heat simmering in his belly as he took in his fill, the familiar coil of arousal beginning. He knew how Dream’s skin would taste; salty from sweat, but alkaline somehow, like seawater. It’s sweet too, cloyingly, like Dream was a delicacy to be sipped and nibbled upon, savored slowly and mulled over.

“Hob? Did you hear me?”

Hob hums distractedly as he blinks up at Dream from under his lashes.

The blue of Dream’s eyes seem to sparkle as he takes in Hob, gaze falling to the mug of coffee Hob still has his hand around, stuck to the countertop.

After a moment where Hob forgets that Dream asked him a question, he speaks up again, a knowing smile pulling up the corner of his lips.

“What are you so preoccupied with?”

“You,” Hob spoke at once, honestly. “I know I’ve said this before but humanity really does become you.”

Dream looked down at the bowl cupped in his hands and huffed quietly.

“How so?”

“Do you want me to tell you?” Hob managed to remember he had legs and hopped out of his chair, stepping around the island and into Dream’s personal space, grinning at the surprised, pleasant gasp that he made. He took the bowl out of Dream’s hands and set it on the counter. 

“Or, I could show you.” Hob finished, settling his hands on Dream’s waist, swiping his thumbs up and under the tank top, pulling him forward slightly.

“Mm…” Dream hummed, his eyes lowering in consideration. His own hands came up and set them on Hob’s– unfortunately– clothed chest, fingers twitching like he was making his mind up about something.

“Perhaps after breakfast.”

Hob swallowed a groan, pressing their foreheads together. He took another step forward, selfishly bringing attention to the semi in his pants and delighting in the sharp intake of breath from Dream.

“You love making me wait,” Hob grumbled, feeling a little pathetic but enjoying it nonetheless; how Dream seemed to preen under Hob’s impatience.

“I need sustenance, Hob.” Dream slipped his hands slowly up Hob’s shoulders and around, tangling his fingers lightly in his hair. He leaned in, lips brushing Hob’s ear as he spoke again, his low voice coupled with the words spoken making Hob’s spine vibrate. 

“My body is ravenous after the events of last night.”

“Christ, Dream–” Hob’s hips jerked forward of their own accord, viciously trying to hold himself back from crushing Dream against the counter and kissing him stupid. “You really do test my patience.”

Dream pulled back and smiled, sly, like a cat, before tilting his head and speaking again, tone light.

“I’m also quite sore.”

Something dark and possessive creeps up Hob’s spine at the words, spoken so casually with an air of pleasure. Because Hob knew Dream enjoyed it, liked the evidence of their love-making, being able to feel it the next day. He’d said so early on, when he was still Endless… that he would make it so Hob’s presence, his touch, would last, until Dream had Hob again. 

“I’ll go nice and slow then,” Hob murmured, sliding his hands around to Dream’s front and feeling that trail of hair below his belly button, following it up his sternum and combing his fingers through chest hair. 

Dream purred under the attention, lolling his head back and arching toward Hob’s touch.

“I’ll be so gentle…” Hob mouthed along Dream’s throat, peppering kisses along the line of his jaw– the stubble there scratching Hob’s chin and making him smirk, wondering when indeed Dream would allow the hair there to grow fully.

“I’ll open you up and take my time. I’ll be so careful…” Hob nipped Dream’s earlobe and felt the other man shudder, his very human heart thrumming under his skin. “You’ll be begging for it.”

That seemed to bring Dream back. Hob felt him swallow and chuckle lightly.

“Beg…” Dream said the word with a sour expression, getting his hands back on Hob’s chest and pushing gently, enough for Hob to lean back, but not enough to take his hands out from under Dream’s shirt. “You’re the one who can’t stop looking at me.”

Hob smiled so wide his teeth showed. He loved getting caught.

“You know, if you’re hungry–”

“Don’t say it–”

“-- I got something you could eat,” Hob finished anyway, laughing at the way Dream rolled his eyes, hard enough to take his head with it.

After a moment, Dream took Hob’s wrists and pulled his hands down, tangling their fingers together. 

“Will it pacify you for 10 minutes so I can resume breaking my fast?”

Hob hummed in mock consideration, biting down the all too satisfied grin spreading across his face.

“Perhaps.”

“Ah…” Dream grinned, and there was a sharp edge to it.

“Perhaps then,” he continued, turning away from Hob and back to his mission that was cereal. “... you can wait.”

Hob lowered his head to the nape of Dream’s neck in defeat, laughing.

“Tease,” he said without venom, nuzzling his nose briefly in the smattering of wiry hairs there as well.

“You love it.”

Hob hummed, winding his arms around Dream’s waist and nudged his crotch comfortably into his ass, smirking in victory as Dream accepted it, pushing back to meet him.

Hob exhaled a content sigh into Dream’s hair, lazily rolling his hips while Dream fixed his breakfast, pouring cereal into the bowl and following it up with milk.

“I do.” Hob conceded, watching and waiting until Dream ate the last bite of cereal before grabbing his arm and pulling him back into bed.

#dreamling #hob x dream #not exactly what i wanted to write #(i wanted smut) #but i am very busy this weekend and didn't have time to write the happy ending (heh) i wanted #so i guess there will be a part 3 some time in the future hehe #my writing #hairy retired dream au #also thank you nonny! #sorry this took so long to write lol