#magical exhaustion is one of my favourite things ever

[ts19009]

Seventeen Fic Rec's Part 3

(CONTAINS SMUT AND MATURE SUBJECT MATTER)

(Bold title means favorite)

(UPDATED: September 22nd, 2024)

OT13

seventeen as teachers @fairyhaos

seventeen as dads headcanons @bbyobbyo

Back to School with Seventeen (Seventeen TA Collab! Take a look at our Course Options collated by your favourite writers, taught by your favourite members!) @camandemstudios

Seventeen's reaction to you asking them for a baby @j0shuasw1fey

Tales from Camp Masterlist (Thirteen friends reconnect on a camping trip, reminiscing about their times as camp counselors when they were in college.) @kwanisms

✤ Losing It. (masterpost) ✤ (A series of having virginities given to you. Sometimes they throw said virginity at you with full force, other times, they lovingly hold your hand, bat their lashes, and say some of the dumbest shit you’ve ever heard a man say in regards to getting laid for the first time. ) @ncteez

Kim Mingyu

kmg x reader: healing comes in small doses masterlist (husband! dad! kim mingyu x afab! mom!reader) @tomodachiii

Food Wars pt. 1 (You and Mingyu are rival but friendly chefs competing for a spot to be an executive chef at a new location in Madrid. This position would change your life; no matter how attractive he is, you WILL get that spot) @beomcoups

Crossing the Finish Line (Winning is the only thing that matters, except if you're raising money for a charity event with an infuriatingly good-looking swimmer.) @mr-cha-n

Statistically Speaking... (TA! mingyu, fluff, smut [minors DNI], angst, statistics, ur honour they're stupid for one another, descriptions of stress exhaustion and burnout, academic burden, disagreements, mingyu is smart as hell, shitting on bad professors, smut but its a surprise) @gyuswhore

Always // oneshot (Sometimes, one man's burden is everything another man has ever wished for.) @spamgyu

When I Kissed the Teacher (science teacher mingyu, grammar teacher reader, meddling students, crushes, flirting, lots of candy and coffee) @highvern

Read All About It (Anonymous Life and Sex writer, Not Carrie Bradshaw, takes on a 30-day challenge with her boyfriend, Min. How wild fans would go to find out they're none other than Kim Mingyu and his girlfriend?) @highvern

Hot Wheels [M] (Co-Workers to Lovers, Fluff, Humor, Smut 18+) @milfgyu

𝖳𝗁𝖾 𝖶𝖺𝗒 𝗈𝖿 𝖳𝗁𝖾 𝖧𝗈𝗎𝗌𝖾 𝖧𝗎𝗌𝖻𝖺𝗇𝖽 (fake marriage au!, fluff, angst, smut (18+ mdni) @wonustars

There's a snake in my pants (Crack/humour. Some fluff. Established relationship. Himbo Mingyu! [I love himbo Gyu]) @whipped-for-kpop-fics

Cross My Heart (Your crush Mingyu wants (to eat) you.) @minisugakoobies

Like A Cowboy Part 2 of 4 (Mingyu only needs to wake up with you once to decide he'll do whatever is necessary to do it every day; even if it means letting you help him outside and figuring out how to help you inside, it's worth it.) @sluttywoozi

Let our lips lock, baby (Friends to lovers smut. Fluff. They are in LOVE okay. Birthday boy Gyu <3) @whipped-for-kpop-fics

I can do it for you (After years dealing with everything alone, you stumble upon an old wishbook from your past. And you jokingly writes down your ideal boyfriend, Mingyu. To your surprise, Mingyu magically appears in your couch.) @hoshifighting

here and now. (secret!agent!mingyu x secret!agent!reader, established relationship) @writingmeraki

Jeon Wonwoo

into the night | jeon wonwoo (when you call wonwoo late at night telling him you're stranded, he drops everything to make his way to you (and bring you home safe)) @etherealyoungk

CLOSER (f2l!wonwoo, softdom!wonwo) @hannieehaee

HER | part six (m). (wonwoo, a heartbroken and burnt out writer nearing the end of his math degree, wants nothing to do with the seemingly perfect, intimidating girl who has everyone under her thumb. you. unfortunately, his literary talent has got him shoved him between a rock and a hard place when you want to write a book and require his expertise. you two are the furthest from compatible. wonwoo can’t see this going well. at all.) @chocosvt (HOLY SHIT, THIS SERIES HAD ME CRYING. SNAPS TO THIS AMAZING WRITER!)

𝐝𝐫𝐞𝐬𝐬 𝐭𝐨 𝐢𝐦𝐩𝐫𝐞𝐬𝐬 (though it didn’t bother wonwoo that his girl wasn’t a gamer like him, he was over the moon when one day she proudly declared she started gaming. one thing he forgot to ask - what kind of games she was playing.) @babyleostuff

knight in shining armor (non-idol! wonwoo x f!reader) @heartsfromia

endpoint (Senior year of college is meant to be full of celebration and smooth sailing. Years of work culminating in the final semesters that will send you off into the real world where clubs, sports, and weekends packed with hungover volunteering to pad your resume no longer mattered. It’d be a piece of cake if it wasn’t for your fuck buddy turned coworker having the same plan. But only one of you can get the department’s most coveted recommendation that all but guarantees your acceptance. Tension rises and the nearly four year thing you’ve had with Wonwoo approaches its endpoint.) @highvern

heads up! stardew. they r gaming. @nonranghaes

Cookies and Cream (academic rivals to lovers, smut, heart wrenching and tooth rotting fluff (wonwoo is down bad bad)) @seokgyuu

April Shower (Wonwoo meets a lot of people through his career as a travel photographer. Not one of them has ever made him want to stay in one place, until he met you.) @sluttywoozi

HEAVEN (wonwoo has a reputation for being distant, quiet and a bit mysterious. once you get to know him better, though, you come to find the sweet, shy boy underneath the surface.) @sanakiras

Patterns (Once is happenstance. Twice is coincidence. Three times is a pattern. So what does it mean when you find yourself in Wonwoo's bed over and over again?) @highvern

Daylight (between the endless flirty banter or secret looks of longing, the line between you and your boss had always been slightly blurred. But when a night out with friends has you and your boss meeting for the first time outside of the workplace, that line starts to become nonexistent as mutual feelings are brought to light.) @moonscriptsx

✦ sugar & spice (bodyguard!wonwoo x celebrity!reader) @etherealyoungk

Hong Jisoo

New in the Suburbs – New Neighboor! Joshua @hoshifighting

distracted (husband&dad!joshua, wife&mom!reader, established relationship) @eomayas

SUMMER KISSES (joshua coming home is a pleasant surprise) @arafilez

richhusband!joshua headcannons (just some headcons, but i'm obsessed with them) @number1mingyustan

still the one (5 years after your break up, Joshua tries his best to get your attention. May it be creating a new instagram to get you to notice him, making your brother (Seungkwan) secretly invite him to his birthday party, and his latest act: begging you on his knees in front of your door to get him back. He just never gives up!) @bratzkoo

city lights series | joshua hong (M) [ongoing] (rock singer joshua, neighbours with benefits) @hannieween

best friend’s brother (This had me crying ugly tears. its my fav) (imestep, romance, angsty angst, major feels abt having a crush, lots of flirting, smut, drama, happy tears.) @chocosvt

not according to plan | hjs (fake dating, strangers to friends to ?? | fluff, slight angst, smut) @the-boy-meets-evil

Expiration Date (2/2) (artist!joshua x model!fem!reader) @number1mingyustan

Birds of a Feather ( joshua hong x f reader) @onlymingyus

Timestamp! Aquamarine Au! @mysafehaneul

on second thought (where your roommate, wonwoo, has an interesting solution to all your bad dates. nothing can go wrong with two friends crossing a line, can it?) @the-boy-meets-evil

Yoon Jeonghan

BITE (idol!jeonghan x hybeidol!reader, f2l, meet-cute, very unrealistic schedules for idols lol, jeonghan is a menace, a lot of will they wont they, reader plays hard to get, afab reader, small age gap implied, one mention of the word oppa as a honorific (sorry</3), reader is mentioned to be international (no specific race, just not born in korea), smut, dry humping, penetrative sex, etc.) @hannieehaee

building blocks | yjh (agreeing to be the teaching assistant is the last thing you want in a semester where you're already swamped with work. but, you need a letter of recommendation from the professor and you're out of other options. enter jeonghan, the menace who signs up for the class seemingly on a whim and disrupts your entire routine.) @the-boy-meets-evil (OBSESSED WITH THESE TA SERIES)

"lovie" (all the ways jeonghan uses your nickname) @cherryredcheol

Titty-Shirt! (18+) (pervert!rollercoaster operator!jeonghan x bigtiddie!fem!reader) @beefboyandbabygirl

love café (while you’ve spent the last few months pretending the love café doesn’t exist, you realize you need its services now more than ever. this brings you face to face with jeonghan, the son of a luxury fashion designer who’s got money to burn. your exchanges are strictly business. until they’re not) @chocosvt

five ways to say "i love you" - jeonghan (how jeonghan shows his love to you, through all five love languages) @p0ckykiss

Xu Minghao

Meet Me In Amsterdam (Artist!Minghao x Artist!Fem!Reader) @okiedokrie

GOODNIGHT N GO (idol!minghao x hybeidol!reader) @hannieehaee

To all the love letters I wrote but never sent (fluff, best friends to lovers) @welcometomyoasis

Birthday Gift l Xu Minghao (It's your birthday and Minghao wants to give you your present!) @jenoslutie

Lee Seokmin

through a different lens — l.sm (meet cute, strangers to something) @miniseokminnies

after dessert (just pure smut lol, but it was good XD) @xurengu0

behind the stands (Seokmin, Gryffindor's star chaser, is widely known as your rival. What everyone doesn't know is that before every game, his lips are always on yours.) @xurengu0

Beautiful Liar (mafia au, dark romance? angst, smut.) @starlightx

Epistolary Yearning (epistolary form, historical fantasy, romance | smut) @himbocoups

Nice Guys Finish First (After a first date with the sweetest man you've ever met, thanks to a mutual friend, you're more than willing to silence his doubts and show him how sexy he was to you.) @celestiababie

midnight rain | lsm (after seven years away, you finally return home. meeting seokmin again wasn't in your plans, but life wasn't willing to let you have it your way.) @wongyuuu

[avocado-writing]

Today is my birthday, so I was wondering what would each party member from BG3 do for your birthday?Maybe a little nsfw afterwards?😏

Astarion

probably takes you out shopping! do not ask where he got the money to do this from, you don't want to know the answer. it probably wasn't earned honestly. but he's still happy to drop a small fortune on you, dressing you up in lots of lovely clothes and jewellery, taking you for lunch at the nicest place in Baldur's Gate. he doesn't eat of course, but you can tell how pleased he is just watching you enjoy little sandwiches and delicious slices of cake. he spears jam and sponge on the fork and feeds it to you sensually, eyes flashing with delight as he sees the way you lick your lips for him.

he cannot even wait to get you back to somewhere private. you abscond behind the cafe and he has you up against the wall. the stonework digs into your back delightfully as your legs wrap around his waist, he fucks into you so enthusiastically that he has to smother your moans with his hand so that you don't get caught. he whispers dirty things into your ear the whole time. but the day finishes with you watching the sunset together. he loves how you look, bathed in orange light. you'd love for this day to last a lifetime.

Gale

plans a very elaborate birthday meal which he invites all of your friends to. he is prepping for days in advance, finding out all of your favourite dishes and working on perfecting each one of them (tara keeps you distracted so that you don't catch on...) on the day, he buys you a lot of books for presents, ones he heard you mention wanting to read ages ago and kept in his mind for a special occasion. you feel thoroughly spoiled by all of the effort that he's put in, the the birthday cake he baked you is the most delicious thing you've ever tasted.

that night, when the guests have finally left, he probably has something a bit kinky planned, maybe something you've wanted to explore with him for a while. perhaps it's a... creative use of evard's black tentacles, or a magic double of himself to join in the fun, one thing you can be sure of is that you're exhausted and very pleased by the end of the evening.

Wyll

if he's duke he plans a big celebration for you. dancing, feasting, musicians, all of your favourite things dialed up to 11, no expense spared. has a special outfit tailor-made for you in your favourite colour. you spend the whole evening with your favourite people and are constantly dancing with your beloved husband. he can't keep his hands off you, and as the two of you waltz, he keeps whispering sweet nothings into your ear... how lovely you look, how radiant you are, how he can't wait to get you alone later tonight... by the time the event winds down you're a total mess with the promise of him.

and he does not disappoint. he beds you in the most sensual way possible, ekeing out your pleasure for as long as he can. paying extra attention to you with his mouth and fingers, encouraging you to grab onto his horns in order to direct him where you want him. the whole time he praises everything about you, says how lucky he is, how he can't get enough of you. you have more orgasms that night than you've ever had before.

Karlach

if you're in hell, she does her best. maybe enlists your friends to help her organise something, getting you a load of presents. she knows she can't hold you some big party like you deserve. or maybe withers comes in clutch again! he and karlach plan a little get-together with your friends for you so that you can be surrounded with people you love. alternatively, if you're still in Baldur's Gate, she just makes a big list of all your favourite things and goes through them. probably would take you to a circus. to a fancy restaurant for dinner. maybe a picnic by the river, just the two of you watching the ducks? whatever she chooses it is perfect.

now, let's be real. she straps you down if you're into it. gets the biggest, most interesting dildo you've ever seen and milks orgasms out of you all night. you're a mewling, sweating mess by the time she's done with you. and gods, if you use it on her afterwards? (if you already have a dick, filling both her holes??) oh, she agrees it's the best birthday ever and it's not even hers.

Lae'zel

probably has to take her time planning, and swallowing her pride to ask the other companions what is best to do. githyanki don't really do birthdays. she has to go to great pains working out what you might like. in the end it's probably something like she sets up a little dinner for the two of you in a secluded spot looking over the city, where the two of you can be alone and unbothered by everyone harassing you. taking the weight of responsbility off of your shoulders for a brief time. she buys you a weapon, probably, a really good one, masterwork - something she had commissioned and was refining herself. it's the most thoughtful thing she's ever given anyone.

at night she takes you somewhere you can be alone. books out a room for the both of you at the inn, so you can make as much noise as you want. and you do. she plays your body like an instrument, and you come over and over again under her hands. she's smug afterwards, your pleasure begetting her own.

Shadowheart

she's probably not great at birthdays, as she wasn't encouraged to really celebrate them much as she grew up under Shar. she gently coaxes out of you what you might want to do to celebrate for months in advance and plans around that. maybe you go on a little wine-tasting course. or perhaps Baldur's Gate has a cat cafe, and the two of you spend the whole day there, just snuggling with kittens. perhaps you both get attached to one and decide to adopt it, too... what harm can more pets around do? she's constantly giving you little kisses and telling you she loves you, her cheeks pink and words sincere.

that night she's bought herself a set of lingerie in your favourite colour for you to enjoy, taking off each lacy item in a tease for you... or maybe leaving them on as you make love. she's got a couple of new toys to tease you with too, something magical perhaps, which really spices up the evening. you fall asleep in each other's arms either way, blissed out and happy.

taglist: @ghosti02art@sadandanxiouswtf @yeethaw13@trappedinlimbo15 @infinitely-kate @dhampling@wereallbrokenangels @tilldeathdonugget @hopeful-n-sad

[somedayillbepeterpan]

I'm glad to have been on the right side of history for this moment.

In honour of the 7-day countdown and before this tag gets flooded by part 2 gifsets, analyses, and general insanity, I'd like to add to the Tumblr void my appreciation for Bridgerton S3.

Luke and Nicola, this whole season has been an absolute dream ❤️ I don't think you'll ever see this but I'll share it with the ones who love you as much as I do.

Thank you!

I know that the 2 previous couples weren't able to really showcase their chemistry and story because of Covid but thank you for the run-up and for introducing the world of Bridgerton to us. Thank you Phoebe, Rege, Jonny, and Simone.

Thank you to Shondaland and Netflix and the whole team/crew behind Bridgerton because the fantasy that you brought on TV is now more than than-- it is a lifestyle phenomenon.

To the cast that bring these characters to life, thank you for your patience and love for the show because that love is shown on screen and we audience appreciate your efforts.

To Julia Quinn for writing a whole family that represents the full range of love. And for sharing that to the world so we, too, can know the different facets of it.

And lastly, to my roman empire, the only reason I'll use this term--

to Luke and Nicola

THANK YOU.

For being the perfect Colin and Penelope. RMB is my favourite Bridgerton book so I was very excited to see them onscreen.

Thank you for advocating for us fans. Thank you for not making us feel ashamed for loving the steamy moments. Thank you for being so transparent about the love you have for Colin and Penelope. Your love translated well onscreen and it has made me fall in love even more with their love story.

Thank you for bringing your talent and a-game and for presenting one of the most beautiful love stories I've seen onscreen. This season has been so personal to me (same size as Nicola in height and weight, same type of height difference with my SO, and same demisexual tendencies as Colin).

Thank you for sacrificing 6 months of your life for the press tour. I can't imagine that being the easiest thing to do considering that you are both confessed introverts.

Thank you for giving a part of yourselves to each and every interview. Doing your best to be eloquent and witty even though you are exhausted from having to answer the same questions over and over. Your real life friendship made this press tour so so magical.

This maybe ending in a week's time but I will forever cherish the magic of Polin.

Thank you, Bridgerton Season 3 Polin. You will always be famous.

[hp-hcs]

am just gonna bombard you with requests until instructed otherwise because i've found my new favourite writer✨

but how about the theo's x obscurus male reader (yandere or not, both theo's or not) honestly i'll gobble up whatever given - yxdls

freaks — yandere! theodore nott x obscurial! male! reader

tws: implied/referenced child abuse; snape being a dick

•••••••••••••••••••••••••••••••••

To be honest, nobody had really ever noticed Y/N L/N until he came back from winter break with a black eye and a broken nose; and with just one snide comment from a certain Potions professor, he promptly exploded into the most terrifying thing any of them had ever seen.

An Obscurus.

It’d been the first class back from the break. Someone clearly must’ve hated the fifth years, because the new schedule listed Potions as the first class on a Monday morning. Exhausted, all of the fifth years had trudged in and taken a seat, too tired to care about any accidental inter-house mingling.

Professor Snape was having none of it. His beady eyes flashed as he surveyed his class of half-asleep teenagers.

“When an adult says good morning, it is polite to respond.”

“Good morning, Professor Snape,” the class mumbled in a completely exasperated tone.

His lip had curled back into a sneer. Opening his mouth to, presumably, berate the class, he was interrupted by the late arrival of a student.

“Mr. L/N. How wonderful of you to join us. We surely wouldn’t want to waste any more of your precious time.”

The boy in the doorway tried to shrink in on himself. He looked so small and lost with that busted up nose and eye. He started to make an apology, but made it barely two words in before Snape struck again.

“Perhaps it would be beneficial for you all to take a note of Mr. L/N as living proof that Charles Darwin’s theory was not without some error. Mr. L/N, if you would research the term natural selection and write ten inches of parchment on the subject. You can turn it in to me tomorrow morning. Take a seat.”

The boy’s cheeks burned with embarrassment and shame as he scrambled to a seat in the back row.

“Natural selection,” the professor intoned. “The riddance of those who are not well-suited to their environment. That is, abnormalities or freaks of nature.”

The class glanced back at the previously unknown boy. Who was this kid? Why did Snape have a vendetta against him?

Something in the ashamed boy’s eyes flashed. At the word ‘freaks’, he visibly broke.

A low rumble filled the classroom, making Snape pause mid-sentence. With a resounding crack, the flagstones just inches from the professor’s feet split and shattered, like someone had taken a sledgehammer to them.

Snape jumped back, his head snapping up in a panic. The walls began to shake and rumble threateningly. From the belittled boy in the back row, an odd dark mist was beginning to form, slowly swirling around his body before engulfing him completely.

The kids around him scrambled away in a panic, the entire class rushing to the doors. Theodore sat still, stunned as he watched the terrifying scene.

One of his friends tugged on his sleeve, shouting something that was immediately swallowed by the sound as the odd swirling mist began to pick up speed, whipping papers and quills around the room.

The crack that ran through the flagstone floor began to spread with an ominous rumbling, the stone walls beginning to shake and spiderweb with fractures. A dust cloud of debris emanated from every fissure, choking up the air and reducing any visibility.

A sound, like a small child crying, seemed to echo around the room. Theo, stuck in place, watched with wide eyes as the mist- no, whirlwind, began growing, getting more and more violent.

The whirlwind lashed out, reducing Snape’s desk to splinters. The crying got louder, and a sharp burst of magic from the whirlwind sent Theodore flying, hitting the ground hard and scrambling for cover under a table.

For just a split second, so fast that Theo barely had time to notice, the mist of the whirlwind parted, revealing a white glowing form in the center. The form was vaguely humanoid in shape, curled up on the ground in the fetal position with its hands clasped tight over its ears. Its shoulders heaved with the force of its sobs, and then it was gone, swallowed back up by the storm.

Theo wracked his brain for the beaten boy’s name, scrabbling for any memory he had of the kid who had always previously gone unnoticed.

“Y/N!”

The storm…paused, sort of. The debris that had been in the process of being thrown across the room halted midair, hanging suspended for a split second before whipping back around with a stronger fury.

The shattering of glass made Theo instinctively cover his face, smashed potions and vials sending shards of certain death flying through the air.

“Y/N! Y/N, you have to stop!” Theodore shouted, pleaded.

The storm howled with shrieking fury, leaking anguish and total despair.

“Y/N! He’s wrong about you!”

A chair was sent hurtling towards him.

Ducking, Theo continued talking, raising his voice over the wailing of the storm.

“I want to help, Y/N!”

The storm paused again, for longer this time. A cauldron, suspended midair just inches from whacking into Theo’s skull, dripped some sort of potion onto his leg, burning something awful.

That was a problem for a different time, Theo figured.

“I want to! I want to help! You don’t deserve to be treated the way you are!”

The storm drew back a bit, the iron cauldron clanging to the floor and spinning around in circles as the dark mist of the storm retreated.

Theo tried his last saccharine sentiment. “You deserve to be happy!”

With a loud whoosh, the storm completely vanished, quills and chairs dropping to the floor with a loud clatter. The boy—Y/N—sat on the floor in the same way as the glowing form had; fetal position, hands over his ears. His skin crackled, and dark sparks snapped and fizzed from it, although he seemed to pay no mind.

Theodore stumbled to his feet from under his table and carefully picked his way through the debris of the classroom to kneel down a comfortable distance away from the crying boy.

“Hey, hey, there you go. That’s better. Are you alright?”

Y/N looked up with a tear-stricken expression, wiping his sleeve across his face and sniffling. “‘m not a freak, I swear. Please don’t send me back.”

“You’re not,” Theo soothed. “I won’t. Snape was way out of bounds with that one.”

Y/N sniffled again, a fresh wave of tears streaming down his face. “He called me a freak.”

At the sight of the boy before him, sobbing pathetically over his douchebag teacher, Theo felt himself burn with rage.

How could anyone hurt this boy? Who’s done absolutely nothing wrong?

“I’ll make him pay, sweetheart. Don’t worry.”

[flowercrowngods]

in which steve takes el to see her first meteor shower

Steve is pulling up at the Hopper-Byers house around ten at night, hoping that El remembers their little date. Hoping even more that the Chief will let them do this.

The door opens before Steve so much as closes his car, and a very excited teenager already runs toward him, laughing when she crashes into his chest, the impact of which makes Steve stumble back against the car.

"Good evening to you, too, you little menace." He ruffles her hair, excited to see how long it's gotten again, a mop of wild curls.

"Hi," she says into his chest, hands hooked behind his back, and they just stand there and cuddle for a minute. The night air is refreshing after the day's boiling heat, and it's good to bask for a moment.

After a moment, Hopper appears in the front door, framed by the low light coming from inside, but even in the dark, Steve thinks he can make out the expression on the Chief's face. How he tries for stern, but can't quite manage it. Not when they've all been through so much.

"Hey, kid," he says, approaching the siblings where they are still hugging. "You looking to kidnap my daughter?"

"Yes, actually," Steve grins. "Will you let me?"

Hop gives a long-suffering sigh and places a hand on Steve's shoulder. "If there's one thing I've learned, Steve, it's that I can't stop you from anything you set your mind to. So I don't think I've much of a choice in the matter, let alone a say."

El chuckles and leans up to press a little kiss to Hopper's cheek. "Thanks, dad."

"Yeah, yeah," he grumbles, and Steve snickers. "Get out of my sight, you two, but I expect to see you both at breakfast tomorrow."

"Eleven o'clock," Steve says in lieu of a groan, because he loves Sunday breakfast at the Hopper-Byers' place.

"Eight."

"Ten-thirty."

"Nine-thirty, last offer. Take it or leave it, boy."

"Deal," Steve grins, then turns back to El. "You ready to go?"

She nods. "Ready." Then turns back to Hop and gives him another kiss to the cheek and a quick hug. "Goodnight, dad."

"Have a good night, kid." As El bounds around the car to jump in on the other side, Hop turns to Steve, who's already moving in for a hug, too. "You, too. Be careful."

"Always. It's just stars, though."

"I know. Still."

"I know."

It's good. The hug. The worry. The way they care and talk and accept. Makes Steve think that it was all worth it, sometimes. Moments like this, under the stars. He gets to have this.

The Chief lets him to eventually and then they're speeding off. Steve is taking El to the weather top in the middle of the night, snacks and drinks and blankets in the back of his car. Because El has never seen a shooting star, let alone a meteor shower. And Steve is dead set to change that.

The other kids are gonna be so jealous when they hear that Steve and El went to watch the stars fall from the sky (well, not really, but that's what it looks like, and that's what Eddie weaves into his stories sometimes), but Steve doesn't care. This is for El. This is for the little girl, injured and weak and frightened, and for the boy who taught her the meaning of magic.

This is only for them.

They don't trek up to the real weather top, since it would be too exhausting of a trip, and too dangerous in the dark. Instead, Steve parks on the open field of a smaller hill that offers them a perfect, uninterrupted view of the sky. No trees, no houses, no excess light to bother them.

"Yeah, this is perfect," he mutters as he kills the engine.

They spread out the blanket together right beside the car, grabbing snacks and drinks and more blankets in case they get cold at some point. El immediately lies down and reaches for some cookies while Steve goes back to the car, putting on one of their favourite tapes. Kim Wilde's 1982 album. One of El's first ever favourite albums.

It makes Steve smile, especially when he hears the excited squeal when the first notes carry through the air.

He eventually settles beside her on the blanket, the music just loud enough to create a nice atmosphere in the otherwise quiet night, and Steve already feels like there's something incredibly special about this moment.

And then El gasps. "Steve," she whispers, pointing up at the sky above them.

He can see the last remnants of the shooting star that lit up the the night and, most importantly, El's face. She's gripping him now, frantically scanning the sky for more, and Steve chuckles, moving his arm in her grip enough to take her hand if that's what she wants.

"What was that?" she asks.

"A shooting star," Steve explains. "They're not real stars, though. There are rocks floating around in space, and sometimes the Earth will move through, like, a chain of them, and then they burn up when they enter the Earth's atmosphere. That's what makes them look like that. Pretty, right?"

She's nodding, refusing to take her eyes away from the sky, and Steve settles back, too, getting more comfortable on the blanket. It's not long before the next shooting star appears - a larger one this time, cutting through half the night sky before it disappears.

"Wow," El whispers beside him, and Steve wants to burst at that genuine wonderment in her eyes, her voice, the way she's squeezing his hand.

"You get to make a wish when you see a shooting star."

"A wish?"

"Yeah. But don't tell me. It has to be a secret wish, and then maybe it'll come true."

At that, El nods solemnly, always so damn serious, like wishing on a shooting star deserves to be treated with the utmost care and calculation. Maybe it does. Steve won't judge. It's not like El grew up with many serious opportunities to make a wish, let alone make it freely.

"Can I wish something for you?" she interrupts that particular train of thought, and Steve stops short, looking at her.

"You wanna wish something for me?" She nods. "What would you wish for me?"

She meets his eyes with a little frown. "It's secret."

"Oh. Right. Sorry."

"It's okay."

Oh, he wants to burst again. But he only squeezes her hand. "Yeah, I think you can wish something for me."

And then she only smiles, and Steve wants to know, wants to ask, wants to be seen just a bit less, wants to exist only between the stars and the wishes that El could have for him.

He closes his eyes, focusing only on her gasps, her hums, her chuckles, her little wows, and he smiles.

Later, he tells her about the constellations he remembers. Some he made up himself. Some that Eddie made up. His heart jumps a little at the thought of the metalhead he never thought to fall in love with. Eddie who loves the stars, who knows so many seafarer's tales about them, mythology that Steve doesn't know if it's genuine or if Eddie made it up. If he's writing his own mythology. Steve wouldn't put it past him.

It's long after midnight and silence has settled between them, both of them somewhere deep inside their own heads, yet anchored in the moment, together. It's serene.

Maybe it's that serenity that gets Steve talking.

"Hey El?"

"Yes?"

"I kissed Eddie."

She gasps again, but not because of a shooting star this time, and turns to face him. "You kissed Eddie?"

"Yeah." The smile is on his lips before he can even try to fight it, and he finds that he doesn't want to. "I was really scared to do it. But it was good. I think..."

"Yeah?"

Steve exhales slowly, seeking solace in El's hand, who immediately squeezes his again, her other hand coming up to run through his hair. A calming motion that never fails to ground him. El is the only one allowed to do this, the only one who does it right. "I think I might have fallen in love with Eddie."

She nods, smile on her face, and then falls forward, head landing on his chest. They don't really have a sense of personal space around each other and Steve loves it, combing through her hair now -- a motion that is just as calming.

"That was my wish."

"Come again?"

"My wish. My shooting star wish," she says, shuffling so she can look at him without moving from her spot. "I wished that you'd smile like you did when you told me you kissed Eddie. And if he makes you smile, he can stay."

"You'll allow it, huh?" Steve chuckles, but El is dead serious when she nods.

"I'll allow it."

And his chuckle turns a bit more genuine now, his lungs filling with the perfection of this moment. He has people that are fiercely protective of him. He has a pretty boy willing to kiss him that he doesn't have to share with those people yet. He has the stars above, willing to grant wishes despite the horrors they know he's seen. And he has El.

In a way, it's really all he could wish for.

El stays the night at Steve's, though he has to carry her inside from his car and wake her like he used to. They share a bed like they used to, and in the morning she'll wear his clothes like she used to.

It's good. It's perfect. And when they arrive for breakfast at ten, Hopper doesn't even call them out on being late when he sees the happy, content smiles on their faces. He just very discreetly kicks Steve's butt, but he had that coming.

[saltwaterburns]

as our worlds move on, in this shirt, i can be you

summary: lockwood reminisces about everything you were and everything you won't be

warnings: just sad rambles & stuff i suppose! 😁

pairing: anthony lockwood x gone!reader

a/n: Did el just?? Write angst?? While being an avid angst hater??? Could it be?? Yes. Yes it was. Whipped this baby up in half an hour while doing my bio homework. Ur welcome!!! This was written with a very specific song in mind. The reader isn't necessarily dead? Ghost touched or ghost locked, whatever your heart desires! Some of this text was taken from a tiktok caption i saw in May 😋

"My calendar's stuck on January, the month that you passed, and I haven't changed the sheets on my bed since. But it seems I still somehow find the strength to water the lilies, your lilies, because I know they were your favourite and I can't handle losing another part of you."

He stops scribbling and lets his pen drop to the table, closing his eyes from exhaustion. The hour is late, the silence around him overbearing, but his mind is amiss. His thoughts are like the wild, untameable sea, roaring out again and again and again, come back. Come back, come back, come back.

But you're not coming back. Not when he asks, not even when he asks nicely. Not when he begs, not when he cries. All he's got left of you are memories of fleeting looks, hushed giggles and gentle brushes of hands and lips against each other.

For a moment he thinks he can still smell and feel you. He thinks he can almost imagine your eyes, the mischievous sparkle in them. It's a fleeting moment if anything but it happens, his mind takes him back to when your eyes locked and that's when he realizes everything that's beautiful in the world started with you and the magic you held, the love you sprinkled like pixie dust on everyone you ever met. Then the moment passes quicker than it occurred, and he's left in a world where your touch still lingers, where your fingerprints still exist in the dust adorning his home and where the flowers beside your bed have just begun to wilt. Where the love that you carried has spread further than you could've ever imagined and made new again so many hearts you never broke.

He's left utterly alone in a world where every thing, every sensation and feeling is a constant reminder of you and who you were, who you aspired but never got to be. His mind is plagued by your essence when he wakes and it continues when he manages to somehow fall into a light sleep, his heart heavy with the knowledge that once again he shall wake with a startled gasp as the clock reaches 2 am, his hand reaching for you, only to be met with cold sheets that have long ago lost your scent and your warmth.

His gaze trails over the kitchen and falls to the umbrella holder next to the front door where your rapier, still untouched, resides. The golden hues of the kitchen light reflect back from the shiny blade, pink gemstones glimmering on the handle, and for a second he feels like as if they reflect the sparkle of his tears.

It's so you. Decorating your rapier, the one thing keeping you safe in a world filled with souls both dead and alive with cheap little gems. It's so irrevocably you that his heart leaps in his chest. This almost primal urge to tease you, ask if you want to stick some butterfly stickers onto the blade too arises in him and he gives in to it, turning to face your chair, but the words die in his throat.

He clenches his jaw, squeezing his hands into fists, letting his nails dig crescent shaped marks into his flesh. The pain sobers him up like a bucket of cold water, pushing arising tears back down his tear duct. He refuses to cry.

He refuses to cry because you aren't here to hold him, kiss away the salty tears pouring down his cheeks and muffle the sobs wrecking his body with your lips anymore. You aren't here and it finally dawns upon him. You aren't here and he's alone, just like it seems he's meant to be.

[suguwuus]

Hii babe!! Omg I’ve been obsessed with your pajama pants book on wattpad for years I can’t believe I found your tumblr, ur my favourite Connor writer.

Anyway I figured I’d send an ask!! Maybe something with a daughter of Aphrodite reader? Could you do protective connor plss, I don’t rly mind the scenario whether it’s creepy guy or like in a battle or whatever.

Thanks so much!! 🩷🩷

HEYYY HII OMG thank u blushes kicks feet!!!

the damsel in distress trope is so outdated and children of aphrodite def have sparkly pink bejeweled weapons so this being set on the battlefield is crossed out of the list. also i dont like the ending but idk ??

edit: im sorry if this didnt meet your expectations of protective connor idk i feel like it's off or boring so feel free to ask for a redo or another one w this situation 😭😭😭😭 not sure if i interpreted ur req right but lmk if i did or if u have anything to say

wc: 1.7k words

contains: erm the general creep u meet while minding ur own business idfk that's literally it

"G'morning, beautiful." Connor smiles down at you as you wake up from your rest. How many hours was that? Three? Four? A few hours as your beauty rest was better than none, so you let that worry go and sucked it up.

"Morning, Connor," you replied, your voice as sweet and smooth as ever. Your resting place today was hidden between two dumpsters behind a convenience store. At first, the idea revolted all three of you on the quest, but the events that followed that night gave you no choice, and the smell would mask your scent from any monsters. Fortunately, you had your perfume balm on you, enchanted to last for days, so smearing the stuff under your noses was a big help to battle the stench of the dumpsters.

You laid a hand on your boyfriend's shoulder. "Feeling better?" After getting into a car crash last night, his body was probably sore. He pulled a muscle in his shoulder, too. His brother Travis was knocked unconscious, so after hauling him through streets, you two had no choice but to seek shelter somewhere hidden. You only found out, when the sun rose, that you were stationed behind a convenience store. Great. Those things were like playgrounds to the sons of Hermes.

Connor stood up and stretched, testing his shoulder. "Yes! Good as new. Man, I wish mortal stores had stuff flavored with something that tastes like ambrosia."

You gazed up at him, pleased with the state he was in now. "Glad to hear," you smiled.

"Wait, they do. I love salt and vinegar chips. Oh, man, I hope Travis finds some."

You wrinkled your nose, but at the mention of food, your stomach growled. Aside from doing your best to nurse the boys back to a decent state last night, you also took first watch. That, and exhausting all your fighting skills, left you hungry.

You rummaged in your bag for a bottle of water to start your day as Connor picked up his. There you found your plastic bag of half-finished ambrosia, a flask of nectar, your first aid kit, your last change of clean clothes, your hair clip that transformed into your celestial bronze crossbow with a beaded charm around the handle, a magic blow-drier for emergencies, and—there it was.

"Travis is inside. Let's go?" Connor held out a hand and helped you up from the ground, and the two of you walked into the convenience store. You caught a glimpse of Travis, but he didn't catch sight of you back. So instead you put your water back into your bag and headed for the bathroom.

There wasn't much work to do. Just a bit of dusting off your pants and a quick wash of your face and hands to feel clean. As always, you looked perfectly put together, roughed up but in a movie star way, thanks to being a daughter of Aphrodite. It was like those scratches and stray hairs framing your face were strategically placed by a personal makeup artist.

Zipping up your jacket in a way that complimented your figure and the rest of your outfit, you nudged the bathroom door closed with your foot on the way out. Neither of the boys were inside anymore. While you scanned the aisles for them, you felt a pair of eyes on you and turned towards the counter to see a toothy man wearing a puffer vest standing in line. "You lost, sweetheart?"

You didn't like how he looked you up and down. How you felt like you were being examined under his stare. You picked it up immediately, and it made your fists tighten. You simply shook your head, then made for the exit.

Travis and Connor were munching away at breakfast sandwiches and bagels. They handed you a sandwich of your choice and a bottle of yogurt drink and you ate it without complaint, the previous occurence quickly disappearing from your mind.

"Thanks," You mumbled, and then peeked into Travis's paper bag. It had even more sandwiches and snacks inside. Quickly, he wrapped them all up and stuffed them in his bag. "Snagged some extras on my way out." He grinned, satisfied with his work.

"Still headed for the next city hall, right?" He asked.

"Mhm." You took a folded up map out of your back pocket and opened it up. "There's a bus stop right there." You nodded in the general direction of the shed, tracing a manicured finger along the map.

You had to be honest, you were only doing that to look cool. Your dyslexia slowed you down in trying to look for your current location.

You followed Travis and Connor to the waiting shed, passing the map to the former. "Let me do that, love," Connor said as you sat down and began to open your yogurt drink. He took his seat beside you and opened your drink for you, passing it back along with a kiss. The gesture made your stomach flutter. No matter how many people would throw themselves at you and try to get your attention, nothing would ever beat the way Connor made you feel with his princess treatment.

However, your mood immediately soured when the guy from inside the convenience store appeared, sitting beside you and doing a little stretch. When he was done, he turned to you and smiled.

"You're a pretty one, you know that?"

The man's voice was gravelly and he sounded like he needed a drink. You kept your eyes on whatever you could stare at on the other side of the street. "Thank you," You replied.

"You here alone?"

"No," You replied, holding back the urge to grit your teeth. You started to tap your designer boots on the concrete, impatiently awaiting the bus.

"Hm. A doll like you shouldn't be here all by yourself."

You didn't reply. Internally, you gagged and made a face and cussed him out for having the audacity.

Connor tensed up beside you; you could feel it. You huffed and checked your nails, bored. Time seemed to go exceptionally slow while you were in this situation.

When you finally forced your head to turn to see why Connor was so pissed, you saw the guy literally ogling you, a smile on his face with dark eyes that seemed to bore into every bit of you they could find.

It was disgusting. You felt disgusting. Your skin crawled.

You crossed your arms over your torso and scowled, trying to seem as unappealing as possible. Desperate times call for desperate measures, or whatever the saying was. You put a hand on Connor's knee to reassure him that you could handle it, and switched on your meanest girl voice.

"Don't you know it's rude to stare?" You shot the guy your meanest girl glare. It worked, for a second, because the smile melted off his face.

Travis came along, pulling out a pouch where he kept fake ID's and documents in case you needed them. He settled beside Connor, who had draped an arm across your shoulders, and took off his sweater.

The man glanced up at him as he passed by, relentless with his questions. "Is that your boyfriend?"

"No, this is." You moved aside to show Connor. You didn't dare break eye contact with the man, you wanted to show that you weren't afraid.

The man's frown grew deeper. "Well!" He chuckled. "Lucky guy."

Connor cleared his throat beside you. You squeezed his knee, and as curious as you were to see how he looked (because he was hot when he was pissed) you flashed the creep your fakest smile, words laced with poison.

"Your mom never told you not to talk to strangers? It's dangerous, you know." He started to force a laugh, but you cut him off, continuing. "Stop talking, because I don't have any time to waste on you, dickhead."

There was a beat of silence as he processed your words. You cracked a smile and turned back to face the opposite side of the road, satisfied with yourself. But then you heard the rustle of that stupid puffer vest.

"Hey, now, sweetheart, don't be hard. You know, if you're here on vacation, I can tell you a few good places to visit, let me tell you—"

You had just settled your eyes back on your multiple bangles and bracelets when you heard a loud smack from where the man was sitting. Connor stood between you and him and your lips parted in surprise with how quick he was. His hand was raised and the man was clutching his own, face red and showing an expression of pain. You couldn't see Connor's face, since he had his back turned to you, but you could feel how tense the hand that was on your shoulder was.

The bus finally pulled over in front of you. Travis nudged you and Connor took your hand with a stiff one. "C'mon, Y/N, let's go," he said. You eagerly stood up, keeping his hand in yours, but he didn't move. Instead, he waited for the creep to board and when he did so, he looked over his shoulder to steal one last glance at you.

You raised up your middle finger at him, but to your surprise, Connor even gave him a shove further down the aisle as the two of you followed.

Connor and Travis made sure he was seated far, far back in the bus before settling into seats with you. Connor gave you the window seat and the three of you got comfortable, though Connor was still muttering curses under his breath. You sent Travis a thumbs up gesture when he looked at the two of you.

Connor didn't relax even after the bus set off, but he did kick his bag under the seat and take your hand back in his. He planted a kiss on your temple, then your hand. "You alright?"

You nodded. "Nothing I can't handle," You assured him. "Horrible morning, but it's fine."

"Bastard was about to touch you," He muttered, lips moving against the back of your hand. "No one touches my girl if she doesn't like it."

"Mhm." You gave his hand a squeeze back, just as you always do to let him know it's okay.

[desires-of-chain]

Sleepy and Divine

Finally back with the promised chronic pain/fatigue smut with Warriors! This has been my favourite to write so far - it turned out a lot softer and more tender than I had originally planned, and I'm super happy with it. Also very heavy on the worship kink which I will NOT apologise for. Who's gonna say no to receiving devoted love and attention from a handsome captain? Not me! I will slightly apologise for my blatant favouritism of the petname 'darling', which I only realised was a common thread through all of my fics about three quarters of the way through this one. It's just.... so good.

As with the other chronic pain fic, small psa for those not in the know: reader is aware of their own limits and both them and Warriors know how to handle anything changing - the sexytimes is informed. You do what you can with what you've been given, and sometimes that means having fun then sleeping the entire next day away lmao. Again, this is mentioned in its own way in the fic but I wanted to clarify. I also wrote this reader to be afab, but only the genitalia is described with any sort of gendered language, chest and pronouns left neutral.

With that all out of the way, onto the tender love making &lt;;3

Content: AFAB reader, eating out, fingering, vaginal sex, Warriors' raging worship kink. Reader has chronic pain in their knees, chronic fatigue, and uses a cane.

Word count: 2776

----

The bright lights are starting to get too much. The ball has been at full swing all night, dancing and joyous conversation in celebration of a recent military victory that your group had a hand in. Drinks are aplenty, food abundant, everyone in finery to honour the heroes of the land. But after hours of polite conversation, congratulations, and quite a bit of dancing with Warriors, you're approaching the end of your rope.

You try to follow along with the conversation you're currently having despite the fogginess coming over your brain. The women had approached you a few minutes ago to congratulate, praising your ability to keep up with the famed Heroes of Hyrule all on your lonesome, raving about your rumoured unique form of magic never before seen, and generally cooing over your relationship with the Captain. They’re quite lovely, all things considered, eager to know your talents and happy that you make the Link of this time happy - who in their eyes is a savior that deserves everything good in the world.

Speaking of…

Warriors sidles up beside you with a gentle hand against your lower back and a charming “Sorry to interrupt, everyone.” He’s wearing a gorgeous military jacket in his signature green, cropped at the waist and paired with tight cream trousers. His scarf is around his shoulders like always, but it’s been cleaned and repaired with the utmost care - you wouldn’t be able to tell it was the same one he's worn into battle countless times. He's also wearing eyeliner.

You make eye contact, and his brilliant smile momentarily wipes all exhaustion away. The ladies coo again.

“The man of the hour, so wonderful of you to join us! Your darling here has been great company, telling us about all the things you've seen on your travels together. Lake Hylia sounds like a great date spot, if you ever return, I'd say.”

“That sounds like a great idea. Unfortunately though, as much as I'd like to stay and chat, I came here to steal my darling away for a spell, if you don't mind?” He hits the ladies with his award winning smile, the one you can tell is slightly fake but very convincing, and it works immediately. They shoo you off together with a teasing “Have fun, lovebirds!” and just like that, you're being led away from the crowds and into the surrounding corridors of the ballroom.

Finally out of the sight of everyone, you deflate, leaning more heavily on your cane and closing your eyes. Warriors pulls you into his side, arm wrapping properly around your waist to comfort instead of guide. When you look back up, Warriors is already looking at you.

“Let's find someplace more comfortable, yeah?”

With a nod, a gloved hand intertwines with your own, and Warriors leads you down the halls. You assume you're headed in the direction of the room you were both given, but you don't pay that much attention to the twists and turns. You let yourself drift, losing all focus on everything but the feeling of Warriors’ hand in yours. You trust him to lead you.

You do, actually, arrive at the bedroom you were given as esteemed guests of the Queen, and you leave your cane by the door to head for the bed immediately. Oh, ever since you saw it this morning, you'd been longingly thinking to it all day, unable to wait to sink into the clean sheets and soft pillows and sleep for twenty hours. You flop face first onto the bed, doing the littlest hop to ensure you get the most of your body onto the high mattress. Warriors laughs at you from the doorway. You ignore him in favour of sinking further in. The sheets smell so good…

There's a dip in the bed where Warriors takes a seat by your thighs dangling off the bed. You twist just enough to peer up at him and meet a look of contemplation.

“Y’know, the plan was to steal you away from the party so we could have a different type of fun, but you look rather exhausted.” He tucks a stray hair behind your ear. “We can just cuddle and go to sleep if that's more your speed right now. I'm happy either way.”

You think about it. You are very very tired, but it's been weeks since you and Warriors have had the opportunity to be intimate. And he'll inevitably be dragged off early tomorrow for a meeting or some other bullshit, even if you're allowed a lay in. You wiggle a bit, take stock of your body, roll onto your back. You're already passed your limit - the extra half hour of sleep you'd get now isn’t going to be the cure to your fatigue tomorrow.

“You’ll have to do all the work.” You mumble, watching his face light up like a puppy being given a treat. He leans over and cups your cheek, his face inches from yours.

“I don't mind that at all. You sure you're up for it?”

You nod.

Lips meet tenderly. He's slow, gentle and caring, taking his time. You've done this song and dance before, of Warriors slowly building you up, taking the lead, and it always begins with being kissed like you're the most sacred thing in the world. Hands soon find their way into your hair, gloves soft against your scalp and thumbs at your temple soothing. If it weren’t for the heat against your mouth and the gradual stirring in your lower stomach, you'd be convinced he's trying to coax you to sleep instead.

You reach up and tug his scarf, urging him to hurry up at least slightly, lest you actually fall asleep, and he pulls away from your lips hesitantly.

“What do you need?” He asks, tone almost reverent. You whine. “Relax, darling, I’m right here. What do you need?”

“If I relax any more I will start snoring.” You grumble, and he chuckles.

“Message received, loud and clear. Let's get you out of this stunning outfit.”

He urges you to sit up by the shoulders, and gets to work undressing you immediately. The horniness ramps up three levels when, after fumbling one too many times with a fastening, he decides to pull his gloves off with his teeth to get them out of the way. You stare dumbly as he pulls your garment off your shoulders, watching him take in the details of your bare chest.

“I'm gonna worship you tonight, I think.” He runs his fingers down the length of your torso, the first skin to skin contact all night, just to make you shiver. With the gentlest push to fall onto your back again, Warriors leans over you, and with that same reverence as earlier, “I want to place my touch on every inch of your body, either with my hands or my mouth - alight every part of you with my love. Will you let me?”

You stare up at him wide eyed. You're speechless, fogginess stealing every thought away, only the feeling of awe and love spreading throughout your entire body. Your shoulders involuntarily scrunch up to your ears. You manage a nod.

Warriors leans down and nuzzles his nose against yours. “You're so cute when you're sleepy.” His lips meet yours again, just as gentle as before, but his hands whisper against your arms and chest this time, tracing invisible shapes and cataloguing every angle, every curve. You can't help but shiver again. When his mouth moves down to your neck, you gasp and close your eyes.

Drifting in the bliss of it all is incredibly easy with your eyes closed. You feel like you're on a cloud, each point of contact sending you further and further into it. All focus goes to breathing while your senses are overwhelmed with how Warriors navigates your body, kissing from your shoulders down each arm, holding and massaging your palms before placing a kiss on those too. The whispered compliments against your chest a series of prayers, gentle and profound and so sincere.

He eventually arrives at your hips, other half of your clothes still yet to be taken off. He kneels on the ground and gets to work taking those off you too, nudging you to lift your hips, and soon enough you are completely bare in front of him.

He gives your legs the same treatment as your arms, slowly and tenderly moving up with his lips. When he gets to your knees, he takes even more care, ever so carefully holding each leg to relieve the most pressure and pain, murmuring against them something your ears can’t catch, but you feel all the same. Your thighs sufficiently caressed, Warriors finally arrives at where you need him the most.

You're already wet, and when he parts your folds with his fingers you squirm at his hot breath hitting your cunt. Warriors simply stares for a moment…

And with a whispered “thank you…” places his mouth on you.

The whole night had been building up to this - Warriors’ tongue swirling your clit, gently lapping up your slick as he continues caressing your thighs with his spare hand. You can't think at all, completely lost in the pleasure of his touch, moaning openly as his tongue pokes your entrance. His movements are maddeningly attentive, slow and gentle and pushing you higher and higher. He continues to mouth thanks and prayers into your cunt, like your orgasm will be a divine blessing upon him, and gods, it feels divine. You're close. When his free hand moves to push into you and open you up with deft fingers, you're closer.

You know once you orgasm now you’ll be done for the night, though, so you weave your hand into his hair and try to pull him away from you. He simply moans against your clit instead, vibrations shocking another wave of pleasure through you, bringing you dangerously close to the edge. You try again.

Warriors looks up at you with hooded eyes and a love drunk smile on his face. You can't help but cup his cheek, thumbing some of your own wetness off his bottom lip. You have his full undivided attention, kneeled on the floor at your feet, and it drives you mad with lust. You have no clue what to say, but the realisation that he's somehow still fully dressed sinks in, so instead of speaking, you unwrap his scarf from his shoulders and drape it over your own like a blanket. Then, your hands move to pull his jacket off, and he chuckles and begins helping.

“Sorry, I got so caught up in your body I forgot you probably want to see mine, too.” Heavy fabric slides off Warriors’ shoulders as he stands to take off his boots and trousers, all garments being discarded to the floor without a care. You keep your eyes trained on every revealed inch of skin, admiring each scar and line and curve. Especially the slope of his waist, which you pull him towards you via when he's finally as bare as you are.

Scooting back up the bed so he can properly kneel on it and truly cage you in, you pull him on top of you and into another kiss. The scarf pools around your body, bathing you in royal blue that feels like a hug, and when Warriors reaches down to push his fingers back into your hole, you clench at it with your fists desperately.

“You're so beautiful…” Warriors gazes down at you with nothing but adoration. You look up at him and think the exact same thing. Words are not working for you right now, but you vow to say everything back to him tenfold as soon as you can. For now, you run your hands across his chest and hope he understands.

Three fingers full and getting close once more, you squirm and buck your hips into Warriors’ hand. When he pulls them out and leans over to fetch something from the bedside table, you whine.

“Just a few more moments, darling, then I'll give you what you need.”

He returns with a jar of lube, and begins prepping himself. He's been untouched this entire time, head red and dripping precum, and when he finally touches himself his face scrunches up in pleasure. The shaky exhale of his breath lights fireworks in your brain.

Sufficiently prepped, Warriors lines his cock up with your entrance. Your legs gently encircle his hips and you look up at him with pleading, desperate eyes.

He pushes in, and you see stars.

He's just as tender and gentle as he has been this entire time, curling around you and pushing slowly in, filling you up with his cock like he's afraid to hurt you. One hand is on your knee - the one that tends to give you the most trouble - and is holding it against his waist gently to make sure it isn't jostled. Compliment after compliment is falling out of his lips, praise like a prayer, a keen for your happiness. Gorgeous, stunning, beautiful, light of my life, they coat you in a blanket of love, simultaneously spreading from his lips, and where your bodies connect.

When he's finally filled you to the brim, his forehead meets the sheets next to your head. He groans as you clench around him.

“My god, I love you.” Warriors murmurs into your ear, and your brain cannot tell if it was simply an expression of gratitude and feeling, or if he was calling you his god.

“I love you too…” you whisper back, awestruck.

Warriors picks himself back up to make eye contact when he starts moving. The thrusts are slow, deep, intent on making you feel every drag and sensation inside you. His forearms bracket your head, hands weaved through your hair while you clench his scarf and tremble as waves of ecstasy spread through your body. The contact is overwhelming, the attentiveness of his hands and hips and mouth as he kisses your lips and jaw - you're so close.

He reaches down and rubs your clit.

“Cum for me, my love. Bless me with it. I want to feel you.”

What feels like divine heat and pleasure shock through your entire body as you orgasm. Warriors speeds up his thrusts slightly, caught up in you clenching around him and losing himself to it too, before pushing all the way in and truly filling you up. You twitch and fidget beneath him, trying to extend the feeling as long as possible. Pure love through your veins.

His head comes back down to rest next to yours, panting heavy in your ear as you come down from the high. You shakily bring your arms up - hands still gripped in the scarf - and encircle him in a hug.

In the wake of the high, fatigue returns. As does the ache of your body. With Warriors’ comforting weight on top of you, drifting into sleep is tantilisingly easy. Even when he picks himself up, knocking your arms to the bed, and begins cleaning you both up, that fog remains, pulling you down to dreamland.

You move at Warriors’ prompting just enough to crawl into bed with him properly, then you're out like a light in his arms.

~~~

You wake to an empty bed and shuffling. Groggily opening your eyes, you see the slightest peek of early morning light through the gap in the curtains, as well as Warriors getting dressed in his usual tunic. You can tell it’s early, too early, and just like you predicted your love is being stolen away by duty. When he spots you awake, he smiles and sits on the edge of the bed next to you.

“Morning, sunshine. How are you feeling?”

You take a moment to assess. Still just as tired as last night, a bit achy and stiff all over. So, not the best.

“Bad.” You mumble. Warriors cards his fingers through your hair sympathetically.

“I have to go do boring work, but you can sleep all you want. I’ll get you some food sent up?”

“That sounds nice. Thank you.”

“Of course.”

Warriors leans down and kisses you on the forehead, before finishing up with getting ready. You watch him from the bed, slowly stretching yourself out and getting comfortable for a great pre-breakfast nap. Just as he reaches the door, you call out to him.

“Link?”

He turns to look back at you.

“Please let me return the favour for last night sometime soon. You deserve all that you gave me, tenfold.”

“There’s no favour owed, but I would love that. For now though, just rest. Dream of me?” Warriors winks playfully. You laugh.

“Always.”

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

*bangs on a pot with a spoon* COME GET Y'ALL'S MEAL

🧙 anon strikes once more!

[oathkeeper-of-tarth]

Haruka and Michiru as Aylin and Isobel. Y/N? I've never actually played BG3 but I'd love to know your thoughts.

I loved getting this ask right after seeing fanart of that very concept (but the other way around). And I love pondering stuff like this!

Certainly I've rolled this around in my brain as soon as people started calling Aylin and Isobel "the moon lesbians". I absolutely see the vision if it's a kind of more surface-level "cast the BG3 characters as senshi/the senshi as BG3 characters" or writing an AU/crossover in which case that's absolutely and without question the roles they'd get. But I think that going much deeper it starts to break down.

There's neat parallels, absolutely. That iconic romance! That all-consuming devotion! Beyond even death! And the whole dying-and-resurrecting thing, too! And a literal magical girl transformation that will forever be the best scene in the game. We sadly never get to see Aylin and Isobel in combat together the way we do Haruka and Michiru, but they'd make a really neat battle couple, I'm sure. Though their "I fight better when I know my beloved is safe" stuff might get in the way - a fun thing to explore.

And yes, one of them is loud and boisterous and tall and strong and sword-y and loves putting up a front and brushing her own feelings off as irrelevant even when she is suffering horribly. Also has the whole extreme dedication to duty thing going on, good ol' Being A Sword, while being brash and reckless and having a concerning disregard for personal safety. (You can't tell me Haruka wouldn't jump into 500 godawful fights a day, just plain facetanking everything, if she knew she couldn't die.) The other, meanwhile, is a way more subtle fancy princess lady type who seems to be calling a lot of the shots in the relationship.

My darling Isobel says we will stay allied at your side. I am pleased to hear it.

(Never fails to get me - Aylin, you already swore your sword and fealty to me 5 minutes ago, were you just going to dip if Isobel said so?)

She is also very insightful, is "the mage" and is capable of some excellent and on-point snark and verbal cuts, though I can't really see Isobel as being very ~ara (she's also a laughably horrible liar). Selûne actually has a lot of divination-related stuff in her portfolio and Isobel (who already uses mirrors in her iconic ritual we see in the game, and I love love love the setup she has there) doing some augury, scrying, and future-sensing via mirror-gazing would be super on brand.

(The moon, the tides, the sea... I could go places with this. But of course, now I've thought of Umberlee Cleric Michiru and The Seas Are Stormy, and that is a true delight.)

But the one place where it really breaks down for me is probably my very favourite thing to chew on with regards to Michiru, and that is that one iconic line, no matter how seriously you decide to take her words:

A world without Haruka isn't worth saving.

I cannot see Isobel saying anything like this, even as a joke, even as a taunt aimed at a defeated enemy.

Because we see Isobel go through exactly this: she wakes up in a world without Aylin. Against all odds, she is in the exact opposite of the situation they two with their mortal/immortal disparity have discussed and prepared for. She is told her unkillable demigod beloved is somehow dead and she believes this lie fully - we have no indication she ever doubted this. And what does Isobel do?

She makes a stand against the shadows, makes herself a beacon and protector, adamantly refuses to abandon any bit of her faith and her lifelong service to her goddess (even while expressing her dissatisfaction with Selûne's apparent laissez-faire approach there, if pressed), gives her all to set up a shelter and support the people mounting a resistance against her own father. "At any cost," she says, and it all clearly does cost her quite a bit - she is so very visibly exhausted and at the end of her tether when we meet her, but also chooses to be patient and to stay back and support and heal and all that. I feel like Michiru, in this situation, would rather march up to Moonrise and take on the entire army herself in a doomed last stand. Unless, I don't know, maybe a Jaheira-Setsuna situation could help?

All this actually makes me think Isobel has a lot of Hotaru vibes! The goth girl whose antagonist dad is part of leading an entire elaborate evil operation (she's the only thing he has left, she is an obsession, he will keep resurrecting her no matter the cost), being brought back from the dead by him in a weird way and suffering the various consequences of this. She even has an Ominous Cough going on, and her most prominent magical power is shielding and healing. Then, a tadpoled Isobel as a parallel to Mistress 9? You could go places with that.

Looking at the other halves of the couples, Haruka, when she thinks Michiru is dead:

You’re so unfair, Michiru, to leave for a world of your own. Don’t leave me here.

Aylin, in turn, seems to have dealt with Isobel's first death fairly... healthily. I mean, it's hard to say, when the one point of coping comparison we have is Ketheric. Certainly her grief is immense and when she says "I have mourned her these hundred years" it is the most believable thing. If Isobel dies again before they get reunited, we see a more subdued version of Aylin who is extremely duty-focused and determined to soldier on (her epilogue letter guts me) and who gives me that very I Will Never Love Again impression of kind of cutting herself off from the more mortal/human parts of her that Isobel seems very much a tether to (and you could go neat places with this being a parallel to the senshi dealing with having human identities, i.e. Haruka vs Uranus). But we do get some truly chilling stuff from Aylin if Isobel dies after their reunion (as well as a serving of some absolutely heartbreaking "I don't care what happens to me as long as Isobel is safe" right before that).

When I am free, I will destroy you! I will murder you, and your children, and their children beside! I will rip this world apart, plank and beam, until every iota of your being is scalded by my light.

So she is going to make very sure that a world without Isobel is also a world without you, traitor. And after that most thorough vengeance is done? I can't think of anything that bodes well, I'm afraid. But the senshi I could most easily see going down this particular dark route is, well, Michiru, and not Haruka.

Continuing this extremely self-indulgent thought exercise, it reminds me a bit of "every yuri couple is Utena and Anthy if you try hard and believe in yourself" and I'd say let's go for a twist: while they are absolutely nothing alike, Aylin sure makes an interesting Anthy because she's magically imprisoned for an unimaginably long time, has a thousand swords stuck in her over and over again, and she suffers because men objectify her and covet her for her power and what she represents and want to use her, and it seems to be a cycle she is doomed to repeat forever purely because of who she is. Meanwhile, Isobel is, uh, a car? I don't know how far I can stretch this, hahah.

In any case, thank you for this excuse to blather on! Always appreciated. Again, this is peak self-indulgence, and I love it.

[calxia]

Anything about a special Ghoul?

I wasn't quite sure what you wanted with this one so I just wrote a little drabble of Phantom meeting Special for the first time.

There were many parts of the ministry that were rarely used. It was a grand old building with loads of winding halls and secret passages, so some places were bound to end up neglected by most. Phantom enjoyed spending his free time exploring these long-forgotten hallways and rooms. His personal favourite he had found was a tucked away library that was full to the brim with dusty old texts on anything you could ever want to read.

Phantom had exhausted the contents of the main library fairly quickly after being summoned. He couldn't help it- quintessence ghouls were naturally curious and there was so much to learn!

This forgotten library was very clearly unknown to a majority of the clergy. Most of the books were coated in a thick layer of dust, and there were impressively large cobwebs hanging from the rafters overhead. The only thing in the room that wasn't coated in dust was an old loveseat that faced the unlit fireplace. Phantom had never really thought further into why the loveseat was free of dust, he just appreciated having somewhere to settle down with whichever thick book he chose to read each visit.

The quintessence ghoul had just settled down on the sofa with a thick book about poisonous plants when he heard someone clear their throat from behind him. Phantom shot up from the seat and swivelled around to face the intruder, brandishing the thick book like a weapon.

Perched on top of one of the antique bookcases was a ghoul Phantom couldn't recall ever seeing before. His striking green eyes were trained on him through the eyes of his mask and his striped tail was gently waving behind him, like a particularly pleased cat.

The new ghoul wearing a mask was odd enough, rarely any ghouls wore masks in the ministry since that rule had been overturned when Copia became papa, but the mask was like nothing Phantom had seen before either. It was silver and angular and looked old. Nothing of this strange ghoul could be seen through it except those piercing eyes.

"What's one of Copia's kits doing so deep in the ministry?" the strange ghoul questioned, leaning slightly over the edge of the shelf that juddered with his weight.

"How'd you know I was a band ghoul?" replied Phantom, holding the book closer towards him defensively.

"Only band ghouls would be free to roam at this time," he pointed out, "clergy ghouls are all currently busy doing their jobs."

He had a point. Band ghouls weren't required to take up work if they didn't want to, while all clergy ghouls were summoned to fill a certain job role.

"You're the new Quintessence, aren't you?" the strange ghoul said after a minute of silence.

This new ghoul was confusing. He seemed to know everything, yet was completely unknown to Phantom.

"How could you tell?" Phantom questioned back, beginning to lower the book.

"I can see the magic blanket around you. The thick nebulas of quintessence that leaves you every time you breathe is filling the room. The quiet curiosity within you." He replied cryptically.

"You sure are a special sort of ghoul."

Phantom couldn't see his face through the mask but he could almost feel the sharp grin spreading across the other's face.

"Well, there is a reason that is my name."

[ailendolin]

Title: Stay [AO3]

Characters: Loki/Mobius

Warnings: Spoilers for 2x02

Summary: Sometimes, it takes more than a piece of pie for things to feel okay again. - Or: Loki and Mobius in the aftermath of 2x02.

————

Stay

“Knock, knock,” Loki said quietly after he opened the door. When he spotted Mobius on the couch, his tie undone and his shoulders hanging low with the weight of the world seemingly resting on them, he took a deep breath and put on a smile. “May I come in? I brought pie.”

He held up the plate enticingly and Mobius’s eyes softened with something Loki could only describe as tired fondness as he patted the empty space next to him. “You know, I can’t keep trying to solve all my problems with pie.”

“Oh, I know,” Loki said and stepped inside. His smile felt a little more genuine when he added, “But it’s really good pie.”

“Oh all right, give it here, then.”

Mission accomplished, Loki joined Mobius on the couch. For a moment, neither of them said anything as Mobius dug in. Loki was fine with that – more than fine, actually. Mobius was one of only handful of people he’d always been comfortable sitting in silence with. As ridiculous as it sounded, watching him eat reminded him a little of what it used to feel like watching his mother perform magic: calm and peaceful. Mobius looked content in a way he rarely did when they were working, and Loki suddenly found himself wishing he could do more to make it easier for Mobius to bear the worries and burdens that weighed so heavily on his heart.

“This is good pie,” Mobius said with an appreciative hum, breaking the silence.

Loki smirked. “Told you so.”

They exchanged a look that lingered longer than it should have. Then Mobius sighed and set down his plate, and Loki knew the short respite was over.

“What a day, huh?” Mobius leaned back against the sofa and closed his eyes. “What a day.”

The weariness that permeated every single word made Loki’s chest ache. He’d seen Mobius tired before but never so exhausted, so defeated, and it tore at him. He knew what that felt like; knew it only too well. He might have made light of the invasion of New York earlier but both he and Mobius were painfully aware of the circumstances that had brought him to that moment and how little choice he’d had to take part in it. What he’d done to Brad earlier was child’s play compared to what Thanos had done to him. Mobius was the only one beside himself who had seen it all: the pain, the tears, the desperate need to hold onto a small part of himself while Thanos took and took and took until all that was left was a bloody, broken mess both inside and out.

Parts of him had never recovered from that. Loki knew that, and Mobius did too. A lifetime ago, the thought of someone understanding would have felt threatening. Now, though – now Loki felt nothing but comfort knowing that Mobius had seen it all, all the broken and mangled bits and pieces that made him Loki, and still smiled at him as if he was worth every kindness in the realms. It meant a lot to Loki, more than he could ever hope to put into the words.

He sank back against the couch and allowed his shoulder to lean against Mobius’s.

“Still don’t regret not going back to your old life?” he asked with a teasing note. “Might be less stressful than this one.”

“Might be,” Mobius acknowledged. He turned his head to look at him. “But no, thanks. I’m perfectly happy where I am.”

He said it so casually, as if happiness was something neither of them had always had to fight tooth and nails to hold onto. Loki had lost his first chance at it when his childhood fell apart under Odin’s favouritism, and he’d thought it lost forever when he learned of his mother’s death and Sylvie pushed him through the Time Door. And yet here he was, sharing a couch with a man who looked awfully ordinary but was anything but and finding himself unable to imagine a time in his long life where he’d felt happier or more content.

He smiled. “So am I.”

Mobius regarded him quietly for a moment before he said softly as if he were afraid to speak the words, “Is that why you stayed? Because you’re happy here?”

Loki couldn’t fault him for sounding curious and just a little sceptical. He had run off after Sylvie once before. There was no reason for Mobius to trust he wouldn’t do it again in a heartbeat. But Loki was tired of running; he was tired of chasing impossible things and hurting himself and those he loved in the process. He longed for something else now, something that was permanent and gentle and allowed him to let his guard down and just be.

“Yes,” he said softly. And then because Mobius deserved to know and needed to understand, he whispered, “This is home.”

A series of complicated emotions flashed across Mobius’s face before it settled on tentative hope. “Loki–“

“I mean it,” Loki said before even the tiniest seed of doubt could have a chance of burying itself into Mobius’s soul. “I don’t want to be anywhere else – or with anyone else. I’m perfectly happy where I am.”

Hearing his own words thrown back to him, Mobius choked out a soft laugh that might or might not have been a sob before he let his forehead fall against Loki’s shoulder. The touch was so beautifully intimate and trusting that Loki felt his breath catch in his throat.

“Good,” Mobius whispered against his shirt. “That’s … that’s good.”

“Yes?” Loki asked because he needed to be sure – he needed Mobius to be sure. “You sure you won’t get tired of me trailing after you and causing chaos wherever we go?”

Mobius snorted and Loki’s heart soared with relief.

“You cause mischief, not chaos,” Mobius said. He lifted his head before he added more softly, “And no, I don’t think I will get tired of you. A little annoyed, perhaps, but not tired.”

Loki raised one of his eyebrows. “Are you saying I’m annoying?”

“Are you saying you’re not?”

Loki grinned. “You know you love it.”

Mobius huffed and for one beautiful moment, Loki basked in the spark that lit up his eyes. Then Mobius bowed his head and the spark was gone, as quickly as it had appeared. “I wouldn’t want to hold you back, though. If you’re staying out of some misguided sense of–”

“I’m staying because I want to,” Loki interrupted him. More quietly and almost desperately, he added, “And I will for as long as you’ll have me.”

Mobius glanced at him, a sad and resigned look on his face. “You’ll get bored of me long before that.”

“Never,” Loki whispered fiercely. It was as much of a promise as he could make in that moment, as close to a confession as he dared.

A small smile began to tug at Mobius’s lips.

“Okay, then,” he said softly and relaxed back against the couch so their shoulders were touching again.

“Okay,” Loki echoed.

The knot in his finally stomach unravelled. Whatever happened next, he knew they would be okay.

[wheretheharekissesthefox]

Bon appétit - Chapter 6: Cotton Candy

[Astarion/Gale]

It's 2 a.m., Gale's tired and wants some food. Astarion, the cute barista/waiter at the Emerald Grove knows how to sate his cravings.

Trigger warning (18+): Alternate Universe - Modern Setting, No Magic, No Vampire, No Wizard, Graphic Description of Sex, Smut, Frottage, Food Puns, Cheesy Dialog (Pun intended), Gale is tired and hungry (literally), Astarion eats Gale (figuratively), Waiter Astarion, Professor Gale, Semi-Public Sex, Past Abuse, Mentioning of Past Addiction

Served to: @patheticfangirl

They were engaged. Astarion had said yes. Gale regretted that he'd blurted the question out in the most unromantic way - Astarion claimed it had been the most romantic thing ever, but Gale doubted that - fucked-out, with his spent dick still in his partner's ass, collapsed on his mother's grave. Morena would be mortified. No. She'd probably laugh her ass off, telling all her friends about it until everyone who Gale even remotely knew would know about it. The thought made him smile. But he still wanted to do this properly.

He'd given Mystra the entire package: flowers, chocolate, candle-lit dinner, ring, and him on his knees. Astarion deserved all that too, and more. But Gale was running into some problems: budget, timing, the element of surprise. He couldn't afford the type of engagement ring Astarion deserved, the weather was cold and often rainy, and he couldn't surprise Astarion with a meticulously planned proposal anymore. Plus, he spent all day looking for job offers, writing applications, and running from one job interview to the next. All of it futile.

Gale wracked his brain about this dilemma. Astarion, on the other hand, didn't seem to be bothered in the slightest, always a huge, dopey grin on his face when mentioning his fiancé. He'd become obsessed with that word. Fiancé. It was a novelty to Astarion since he'd never been proposed to before. Another reason why it should have been perfect, in Gale's opinion.

So, the former professor made a plan.

A few weeks later and when the weather was clear, the time was right.

At this Friday, Astarion returned from work at three a.m., utterly exhausted. After a quick shower, he collapsed onto the bed and immediately fell asleep.

Gale allowed his partner his beauty sleep when he woke up the next day and set up everything for the planned date night: finger foods, beverages, notes, and the little black box.

He was in the middle of making pancakes when Astarion toddled into the kitchen, sleep-mussed curls stuck to his head, wearing his favourite Nightsong band shirt and a pair of boxers.

"Morning, love," he mumbled while rubbing the sleep from his eyes. Gale thought it was adorable and his heart fluttered when his partner leaned in for a kiss.

"Mmh, smells delicious."

Yawning, Astarion made his way to the fridge to fetch the butter and maple syrup, placing them on the table. He scooped up Tara and cuddled her while watching Gale flip the pancakes expertly. Astarion thought there was no hotter man in the world than his wonderful fiancé - Oh, my God, fiancé! With a frolicsome giggle, he squeezed Tara tight and twirled around his own axis. The cat yowled in protest and Astarion kissed her soft face, catching a whiff of meat-scented breath.

"Eww! How unladylike," the blond scolded light-heartedly. Tara, naturally, was unbothered.

"Please, don't give dear old Tara a heart attack. One person with cardiac problems per household is enough," chuckled Gale. Astarion stopped death in his track, then moved closer to Gale. He gently put a hand over his fiancé's scarred chest and said: "Don't even joke about that, love. It's not funny. I want to get old and wrinkly with you."

Gale's eyes softened, a happy smile spreading over his face as he took hold of Astarion's hand to place a kiss on each individual fingertip.

"I apologise for my misplaced quip," he murmured. "I want to spend the rest of my life with you too."

He pulled Astarion closer by the hip to captured his lips. Sighing contently, they traded kisses while Tara purred between them, still cradled in Astarion's left arm.

"The pancake, love," the blond mumbled against the brunet's lips, and the latter immediately fussed over the almost-burnt batter bread. With a smacking kiss, Astarion put Tara down, grabbed the bowl of cooked apple slices, and sat down at the table. Gale followed him with the two plates of pancakes. Eagerly, they started digging into their breakfast, playing footsie with each other.

"I have a surprise for you," Gale revealed. "A date night."

"Really?" Astarion's face lit up. "Where are we going?"

"I can't answer that question, otherwise, it's not a surprise anymore," replied Gale, smugly.

"Cheeky, little thing," grinned Astarion and stuffed the last bit of his breakfast into his mouth. "I can hardly wait until tonight."

Chuckling, Gale stood up, booped Astarion's nose, and cleared the table.

"Fantastic! That means you have enough energy to help me fold the laundry."

His fiancé groaned theatrically, leaned his head over the back of the chair and whined: "I hate folding laundry, especially finding all the matching socks!"

Gale laughed gleefully.

"You can do the dishes instead."

"Okay," warbled Astarion and sauntered over. He couldn't help but wrap his arms around Gale's middle and kiss him deeply.

"I love you," he muttered against his partner's lips.

"I love you too," smiled the latter. They gently rubbed their noses together, giggling. With one last parting kiss, they couple attended to their tasks. Astarion washed and dried the dishes while Gale folded the laundry. For good measure and fiancé-extra-points, the blond cleaned the kitchen before joining Gale in the living room, slumping onto the sofa to channel-hop and cuddle with Tara.

After twenty minutes, the couple had lost interest in the Die Hard rerun and turned off the TV to trade kisses instead. Astarion migrated onto Gale's lap, slowly grinding his ass down on his fiancé's erection and against his belly. It wasn't about getting off for either of them, but much more about being close to each other. Gale sighed into Astarion's mouth happily, splaying his hands on the latter's back. Meanwhile, Astarion was running his fingers through Gale's loose hair. Their orgasms arrived slowly but steadily, crawling closer like fog over a pumpkin field. Astarion came with a gasp, spilling into his boxers, while Gale rolled his hips up with a moan and soiled his underwear as well. They kissed a little longer until they couldn't stand the tacky feeling in their boxers any longer and took a shower. The rest of the day, they spent in bed. Gale, propped up against the headboard, reread his favourite novel while Astarion, with his head in his partner's lap, scrolled through Bootube and social media. Once in a while, the latter showed the former a funny meme or cat video.

It was domestic, it was bliss, it was perfection. Gale could have exploded with happiness.

When it was finally six o'clock in the evening, he warmed up some pumpkin soup to prepare their bellies for the upcoming event with finger food. Wrapped in their warmest winter clothes, the couple left the house and Gale drove them to one of the hills at the edge of town. There, he set up everything for their date. Astarion watched while his partner made everything perfect. He knew better than intervene Gale's flow by offering his help.

"A romantic picnic. You thought about everything, huh, darling?" he smiled, a fuzzy feeling spreading in his gut. "Blanket, candles, food, drinks. You always bend over backwards to make everything perfect."

"Well." Gale looked at him. "You deserve it to be perfect."

"Oh, darling." Astarion wrapped his arms around the brunet, pulling him close. "I don't need things to be perfect. Average's good enough." Gale was about to protest, but the blond silenced him with a kiss. Then, the latter looked at him with a finality that didn't leave any room for arguments. "I don't need it to be perfect. You are good enough. I'm here for you, not all the ballyhoo and pizzazz."

"But -"

"No buts. The only butt I want to hear about is the one on your backside."

Gale laughed at that, feeling much less anxious and nervous about his plan. They settled on the thick blanket and the brunet poured some alcohol-free champagne into two glasses.

Since escaping his grim past five years ago, Astarion was sober. He'd confided to Gale that while being with his abusive ex-boyfriend, he'd gotten addicted to alcohol and pills in a desperate attempt to dampen the terror he'd endured. Naturally, Gale respected his partner's choices and started to use alcohol solely for cooking. In the process, he himself had stopped drinking too. He didn't mind though.

The couple clinked glasses and helped themselves to the finger food. Astarion moaned lewdly, sucking his thumb a bit longer and deeper than necessary to lick off the tuna mousse. It was silly, of course, but also incredibly hot. Gale wettened his lips with the tip of his tongue as he watched his partner pop a skewer with a mini mozzarella ball, a cherry tomato, and fresh basil into his mouth, pulling the wooden toothpick out. Unnecessarily, Astarion sucked non-existent tomato juice from his index finger, his cheeks hollowed.

"Mmmh," he moaned, failing to suppress a small smirk. His look was dark and lust-filled as he gazed at Gale with bedroom eyes. The latter swallowed, mouth suddenly dry.

"I'm sooo terribly cold, darling," Astarion purred, running a hand down his front. "Won't you warm me up?"

Food and drinks forgotten, Gale crawled over and kissed his partner breathless. Satisfied that his attempt of seduction had worked, Astarion spread out beneath him, legs propped up wide, while making needy little sounds. Gale started to unbutton the blond's coat and trousers, shoving them aside, before following suit.

"Gale," whined Astarion, pulling the addressed down desperately. "God, please touch me."

"I am touching you," replied the brunet smugly while running a hand up and down his partner's arm. The latter groaned in frustration.

"Oh, come on! You know what I mean!"

"Always so impatient," teased Gale, chuckling, and sucked a love bite into Astarion's neck who moaned in pleasure, leaning back and exposing his vulnerable throat.

"Please," he panted. "Please."

Humming, Gale licked the blond's Adam’s apple before wrapping his hand around both their erections. Astarion cried out, rolling his hips up.

"Please! Oh, please, my love! Fuck me!"

Gale kissed him deeply while jerking them off. It was a bit uncomfortable, thus, he leaned over, grabbed a handful of olives preserved in oil, and used it as a lubricant.

"You're a fucking genius," moaned Astarion. "God, I'm crazy about you."

Smiling, Gale captured his fiancé’s mouth in another bruising kiss.

"I love you," he told him. "You have no idea how happy I am that you chose me. You're going to be the most wonderful husband I could ever wish for."

"Oooh..."

Astarion sobbed, cradling Gale's head in his hands while he gazed up at him through heavy-lidded eyes. He came first, with his head thrown back, spilling between them. Gale followed him over the edge soon after. Panting and still pressed close together, they waited until they'd recovered.

"This didn't go as planned," chuckled Gale, "but I won't complain." He sat up, groaning all the way, and grabbed some tissues to wiped himself and Astarion clean. "The plan was to do some lovely stargazing, fascinating activity that is, and tell you the stories of different constellations. Lepus, for example. The hare. It's associated with the moon rabbit, the dark spots on the moon. According to Eastern folklore, the rabbit in the moon is pounding rice in a mortar for sweet treats, and is portrayed as the companion of the moon goddess Selûne. According to Western folklore, Azuth, the Lord of Spells, immortalised the rabbit in the moon after it had offered itself up as food to the starving population." Gale suddenly paused and glanced at his partner sheepishly. "I apologise for the long-winded monologue. I didn't want to bore you."

"You didn't," replied Astarion, smiling. "It's beautiful."

The brunet blushed a tad, stomach fluttering.

Mystra had always hated when he'd rambled on about a topic, thus, he was used of being shut down.

"Anyway, that would have been my plan, but I'm always open to improvisation," Gale said and Astarion barked a laugh. "Now, only one thing's left to do. Stand up for this one, please."

Giggling, Astarion got up and fixed his clothes. Meanwhile, Gale did the same and faced his partner.

"We know each other for only two months, but I fell for you the first time I lay my eyes on you. That was five years ago at the Emerald Grove. You handed me my coffee, winked, and said 'Have a nice day, darling'. I was immediately under your spell. Love at first sight."

Astarion snickered, retorting: "More like 'lust at first sight'."

His partner sighed deeply, but continued his speech: "What I'm trying to say is that I care about you. I admire and adore you. You're the most wonderful person I've ever met."

He conjured forth the black box, opened it, and went down on one creaking knee. His partner's eyes went wide.

"Wh-what are you doing?"

"I love you and I want to make you happy," Gale spoke.

"Is this really happening?" The blond sounded slightly panicked.

"Astarion Ancunìn -"

"Oh, God..."

"- will you marry me?"

The addressed fell to his knees, sobbing, and wrapped his arms around Gale.

"Of course, you idiot! I've already said yes the first time."

"I wanted to court you properly," the addressed told him earnestly and Astarion burst into laughter.

"Court me? Darling, we fucked before we even knew each other's names." He looked at his fiancé with a tear-streaked face. "I love you too."

Gale sighed a breath of relief and placed a kiss on Astarion's wet cheek. Then, he showed him their rings. They were plain, silver bands, but the important part was the inscription on the inside. Gale took them out and showed it to Astarion. One said The star cradled by the tempest and the other The tempest cradling the star.

"Oh. Oh, Gale." Astarion sniffed. "They're perfect."

A huge, beaming smile spread across the brunet's face and he slid the ring onto the blond's finger.

"What a relief. I was worried it's too cheesy."

"Isn't that our thing?" Astarion teased.

"Thankfully, the first thing you shoved up my orifice wasn't a cheese stick but a cucumber," Gale chuckled.

They burst out into laughter, holding each other close. Then, the couple snuggled up on the blanket and finished their snacks while gazing at the abundance of stars in the clear sky.

[tavyliasin]

The Abdirak Essay - Fandom, Pain, and Loviatar's Love

Another day, another Lia Essay - and if you're really really deliciously sinful my very dear darlings, I shall give you yet more when the sun rises again upon the morrow. So, today in Niche Fandom Adoration Hours, I give you:

For The Love of Loviatar: Why Discomfort Can Be Delightful, How Agony Alleviates Anguish, and All The Ways Abdirak Fans Are Also TavyliaSin's Very Favourite People (Who Also Probably Need A Hug) ((Do We Love The Long Titles?)) (((If No, Consider This Essay Title Part Of Your Penitance)))

The themes of this essay will discuss: BDSM, Kink, Chronic Pain, wounds/injury, Acute Pain, Mental Health, mentions of harmful behaviours, a discussion of psychological elements from someone with absolutely no formal training or experience, vague mentions of trauma, and the magic of friendship. So please make sure you are in a comfortable place within yourself if you feel any of the above might be difficult to read for any reason. It is ok to skip sections as each has a topic header, or you can leave at any time. Nobody is judging you for that at all. Additionally, NSFW discussion further through, so minors DNI as usual. Very little of my blog will ever be suitable for under 18s, for your safety and for mine. Editing in to add a link to the Abdirak fandom gift to chronic pain pals A Cameo from Declan (Abdirak's Performer) (Fully SFW)

All that said, the main theme of this piece is actually:

To truly understand suffering is to avoid being its cause.

So, let's understand what "Suffering" is first, shall we, Dear Ones?

The Difference between Pain and Suffering

Lia hasn't completely lost the plot darlings, the two words may seem almost interchangeable but they are not. At the very least, this is the interpretation I have and the discussion that follows will stick with it too~ Pain is the sensation itself, whether physical or mental, it is the hurt, the bruise pressed upon, the moment a heart breaks. That is pain. Suffering on the other hand, is the effect that the pain has. It is the anguish, the torment, the overwhelm and the exhaustion. So, whilst two people might have the same pain, let's say a stubbed toe for a simple example, their suffering might be very different. One might feel able to walk it off, maybe swear a little and move on. Another might need to sit immediately, feel tears in their eyes, or even become utterly overcome by misery from the intense sensation. This might sound like a difference in tolerance, but it can also be seen as taking the bigger picture into account. One brick might not feel so heavy to someone with empty hands, but added to a pile of bricks already carried it may feel as if it weighs a dozen times as much.

What about Abdirak? How does he relate to Pain and Suffering?

When I first heard Abdirak speak, I knew he understood this concept to its very core. His goddess wants pain, but in himself he does not seem to want actual suffering. He does draw a different line, with pain being physical and suffering being the mental aspect, however the principles are very close to my own. Some people might see Abdirak and judge him as cruel, as a torturer delighting in anguish, but that could not be further from the truth. When he speaks of delivering pain with a loving hand, that really is meant. When he was speaking to the player character, for a moment I felt so intensely seen when he speaks of seeing a greater suffering.

"Forgive me, but that look in your eyes - something terrible has happened to you. ...I see those same eyes when I look in the mirror, dear one."

This, to me, was such a moment. He recognises trauma easily, and we also have this chance here to either interpret this as "oh, right, the tadpole stuff, the things in the game" or we can allow our own feelings about a player character's backstory as the interpretation of what he has seen. Either way, he immediately offers to alleviate that suffering with pain, something he is familiar with, something he knows to help from personal experience. There's the important point. His motivation is not to cause hurt, but to relieve it.

How does pain make anything better?

Deep breaths loves we're getting to the heart of a few things here and it may get heavy. At the most basic broken down level, right at the bottom of everything, it's about distraction. Pain is instant, sharp, a sensation that draws our nerves tight and fires off that electricity directly into our brains. It takes our attention and focus away from whatever else is on our minds. Usually? This would be detrimental, to be unable to concentrate on something because pain is intruding. However, think back here, "delivered with a loving and measured hand." This is precise pain, sensation that is welcomed and applied with expert care in order to reach that point right between where pain is suffering and where it cuts out the thoughts. BDSM darlings will know this as similar to "subspace" which I will discuss later~ Whilst there is some short term benefit to using strong sensation to distract the mind and alleviate intense distress, if taken into real life scenarios there are a lot of things to consider, and it is far better to speak with a therapist. Though the most commonly suggested low-harm methods can be things like gripping an ice cube for a minute or two, or even something like exercise that can push the mind to focus on the body instead of the source of the distress. The element of penance is also there. Abdirak brings to the fore those thoughts of struggle and guilt, so those are the thoughts that are stripped back by the physical pain. It's intentional, careful, and taps at the other core of using pain to alleviate suffering.

Why we love Abdirak, and the importance of recognising the weight of unwarranted guilt.

Remember my little villain essay? Back then I spoke of how a love for villains can also come from the way we are prone to judge ourselves unfairly, to heap undeserved guilt at our own feet, and to believe every slight mistake to be a heinous sin. Sorry, darlings, the only heinous "sin" you are allowed to believe in is me. Name puns aside... Part of the draw is indeed right there, believing ourselves deserving of punishment it's appealing to want to submit to that and find absolution from everything we judge ourselves for. And yet, it isn't a horrific thing, it's coloured by love and affection. The Love of Loviatar from Abdirak does not ignore that first part. But I do encourage you, if you are feeling particularly called out right now, to stop seeking punishment for things that are objectively not your fault, and instead treat yourself with kindness and forgiveness. By all means continue to indulge in our beloved priest of Pain and the joy he brings, but do so without any negative self-assessment, alright? Good, I'm glad we agre- THAT MEANS ALL OF YOU. No exceptions.

And what of the Fandom?

Ahh Abdirak fandom. Small, loving, welcoming, and utterly devoted~ Similarly to villain fandom (Abdirak is obviously not a villain, but is arguably villain-coded), his fandom also draws a lot of kindness and understanding. Despite how we might see ourselves, we are remarkably free from judgement in how we treat each other. There's endless encouragement, genuine warmth, and alongside spicy takes that might make lava look like a suitable spot for ice fishing there's a profound amount of respect and consent. By which I mean, there's no shame. There's no allowance for "I hate that character you like", or "that kink is bad because I don't like it". Tags and CWs are applied to posts and works with care and nobody is treated poorly for enjoying what (or who) they enjoy in the fictional space. To go back to the quote at the start of this essay, "to truly understand suffering is to avoid being its cause." I feel the vast majority of us have that depth of insight and recognition for suffering and have the empathy required to wish to avoid it. And that is why I would perhaps feel safest in the company of Abdirak fans (and likewise Raphael fans), there's another level of connection in those tadpoles~ Which leads me neatly forwards to...

Endurance: Abdirak and Chronic Pain Sufferers

Here, loves, we're going to get a bit more personal. Those of us with chronic pain conditions may find an even deeper connection. So I'll go over a little for those who are fortunate enough to not have personal experience here: Chronic Pain - This applies to pain which is constant or frequently recurring, that lasts (and/or is expected to last) for more than 3 months. It's not like a broken bone that heals and has an end, it's not like a few headaches that come and go with little consequence, it is either always present or always on the edge of flaring up at any time. It's different to acute pain, because most conditions have no cure, many barely have any treatment so all one can do is try to endure the worst of it. The other side-symptoms can be reduction in physical ability, exhaustion, mental health difficulties (because for some odd reason constant pain is not a path to happiness), low self esteem, and of course carrying the guilt of feeling like a burden if you need help from others (you are not a burden, and anyone who says so can receive the blessing of forever feeling like there is a stone in their shoe that they cannot find). As an aside, this can apply to chronic mental health struggles too - it is still pain, only a different kind. Though I will be looking primarily at physical pain here, as that's where Abdirak's focus is. Now, where are we going with this? The difference here is in how pain is treated. Abdirak speaks of pain as a wonderful thing, as something that is sought after, that is a way of worshipping Loviatar. This is something that might feel strange to someone who is plagued by pain, but there's another quote I'd like us to remember.

"Pain without purpose is a terrible thing, wouldn't you agree?"

Chronic pain has no purpose. It's there whether by illness or injury, or some other unseen cause. It was not a choice, it doesn't bring any relief, and often it drags us right down with it.

"Please let me alleviate this pain."

And there's another line, one we wish we could hear, one we wish so very deeply in the core of our being that we could believe. That there could be someone who could bring an end to the pain even if only for a brief time, a fleeting hope of relief.

How fanworks can be a means of coping with chronic pain.

So here's the next point... What in all the hells do I mean, how can fanworks help a single thing? Well, have some personal moments. I had a deeply unpleasant flare up the other night, so I put out a brief ask to writing groups for some comforting fiction shorts. In the past, I've written a few myself - like these: Abdirak - Migraine Comfort Yurgir - Migraine Comfort Tav - General Comfort, with Audio Multi-Character Comfort Drabbles (Including Abdirak) Full AO3 fic of Abdirak x Chronic Pain Reader (Spicy, NSFW)

These are the two I received from some writers very dear to my heart who have more talent and skill than I could ever hope to aspire to in their works. Elfvamp (who does not have tumblr) (image description is attached to the image)

and this one from @morb-untamed

Darlings, when I tell you there were tears in my eyes at these, I mean it. THIS is just an example of the understanding and compassion possible in the community, the care and consideration, and the emotion that words can carry through them that make things genuinely feel more bearable in the moment of distress. Both captured something that it took me too long to realise. Perhaps what follows might sound entirely unreasonable or unhinged, but for someone like myself who has not known a single second of what "0%" feels like in over 10 years, it's beginning to seem far more sane by the moment. What if, within the confines of my mind, I try to rewrite the understanding of pain as something different. Just tell myself each new pain is an offering to some vile deity who has decided my mortal vessel is worthy of enduring, rather than one that is being punished with suffering. Breathe through it and listen to those character voices, find my own purpose to the pain. Let it become inspiration, note it down, get that visceral and intimate knowledge to the page instead. Naturally, this probably isn't a healthy coping mechanism, nor one that is infallible, but there have been moments recently where thinking that has made the moderate levels less distressing, easier to tolerate for a time. Perhaps it could do the same for you, but perhaps not, either way - it is there. Please do read through the comfort pieces too, and if you would like to see more - even ones with more specific aims and pains, please do just ask and I will make them happen. Either through my ask box, or in comments/reblogs, or any other way you wish to contact me honestly.

Alright, Tavylia, we've covered personal pain, but you promised NSFW discussion!

Oh my very dear darlings I had not forgotten this part~ You may here people talk about "good pain" and "bad pain", and wonder how/why pain can ever be good. It's not just about a physical hurt sensation or using that as a distraction. Pain can cause a rush of adrenaline, and even endorphins - similar to how people enjoy extreme sports, horror films, or theme parks, it's a pleasant feeling from something that would usually be scary, because it's safe and controlled. Falling from a high place? That's terrifying, dangerous. Parachuting safely from that same high place? It's controlled, there's no real danger, but the feeling of danger brings that adrenaline rush. There's the key. In real life BDSM there is control in the safe signal, in knowing it can and will stop when needed, that although there is someone causing pain they will stop at a moment's notice. (Anyone who does not respect a safe word/signal is not someone you should be in that situation with, if you are engaging in or want to try BDSM with real partners please PLEASE do your research on safety, that's too long a lecture to add here) In the context of fiction, we can go a lot further. Could a real person easily withstand Abdirak hitting them with an axe in their back? Obviously not, that's far too much. But this is a world with magical healing, and our fantasy and fiction is quite safe to extend where we find is interesting. So when reading - and especially writing - with pain and pain play, I encourage you to remember these links to adrenaline, endorphins, and that it isn't about harm, it's far deeper, and finding an understanding of that (even if you never wish to experience it) might be of some benefit to understanding those around you who have this intimate relationship with pain.

A title for the End

I think I've covered a lot here, but I do just want to round us off now. If you have any questions about this topic (or any of my other essay posts), please do feel free to ask - that's why my box is there, for all kinds of discussions to open up. Not just for smut and creative writing, but for all the ways we connect with fiction and characters. There is so much more than a single story being told, each of us experiences it through the lens of our own experience, we all find our connections in different ways, and I will have more character essays on this later. There's so much more to see, to learn, from all the interpretations throughout the fandom. I'm very grateful to be here to witness it, and for you being here to share in these thoughts and explore them more with me. Pain can teach us many things, about ourselves and others. Empathy, kindness, compassion - when we know how much we need them ourselves, we begin to see how much others may need it too. Much like how Abdirak sees the pain behind the player character's eyes, and feels that strong desire to help in the ways he knows how.

A Final Note for the Pain Pals

To my Chronic Pain Pals, darlings you do not always have to be strong. It's alright. It will not break you entirely to let go of that incessant need to try and quietly endure. Find those places it is safe to let it out, look for those tricks you can use on your brain to make Loviatar's Favour just a little more bearable. You are worthy of kindness, support, and compassion. The same you are likely giving of yourself to everyone else. You are not a burden, these are pains you do not choose, and you deserve something more gentle without any guilt attached to it. You are also not alone, find community, find those who understand.

Pain without purpose...but have we given it one now?

So I hope this time the pain has had a purpose in teaching, in helping us connect in new ways, to find compassion and understanding. Until next time, Dear Ones, look after yourselves.

Oh hey look I know who made that gif that came up in the search~ What an absolutely wonderful coincidence ;) (And a final final footnote, hello Abdirak fan community, you are perfect and I wish you nothing but the best in all things)

[detective-inspector-her]

@rubysimmer

Putting your favourite character in the Chocolate Factory AU Making the whole thing would be its own project so...

Valkyrie hummed, “I’ve always wanted to come here.”

Charlie, Beryl’s nephew, blinked at her. “You have?”

She shrugged, “I solve mysteries for a living, this place is a mystery. I will taunt everyone I know for the rest of eternity because I will withhold information from them.” She grinned at the kid’s bewildered face, “You excited?”

Charlie nodded, “I’ve walked past this place every day for years! I can’t wait.”

Valkyrie nodded, casting a look over the other contestants. “You seem to be the only one who is, really. Apart from Gloop over there—he’s just here for the chocolate. The others? They’re here because they can be.”

Charlie furrowed his brow. “Isn’t that why you’re here?”

She shook her head, her trench coat flaring as she moved. “Nope. I’m here because Crystal’s working, and Beryl didn’t want to travel in this weather in case she got sick or something.” She rolled her eyes. “I have work too, technically. But today? I’m off.”

“You sound like you got bribed.”

Valkyrie raised an eyebrow. “Let’s just say my partner’s been obsessed with this place ever since it shut down. He… encouraged me.”

Charlie blew into his hands, “How old is your partner?”

“Over four centuries.”

“Old.”

“Yup.” Valkyrie glanced at her watch, suppressing a yawn. She’d barely slept the night before, stuck on the phone with Omen, who had been spiralling about an upcoming art exam. Despite his Signum Linguist talents, which gave him magically steady hands, he’d gone on a rant about the pressure until he eventually fell asleep from exhaustion.

She wasn’t supposed to be here at all, actually. But between Skulduggery and Beryl pleading with her, she’d ended up crossing the ocean to escort Charlie Bucket into this chocolate-laden enigma. Rubbing her eyes, she yawned again just as the gates began to creak open.

Without missing a beat, she strode forward, trench coat billowing dramatically behind her. Charlie had to jog to keep up, but he looked excited. At least one of them was.

[thecouchsofa]

2023 ao3 wrapped / fic review / whatever else I'm putting here

@oflights, the human, the myth, the legend, has made me go look at my stats and now you have to look at them too. Tagging @jtimu @elskanellis @sillywives @sleepstxtic @maesterchill @peachydreamxx @hoko-onchi-writes @starquestingfordrarry @rainstormradish @apricitydays-lazynights @annanother-thing @uncannycerulean @drarrymyheart @mallstars so they can also feel this sweet, sweet pain (if they want).

First up, some stats!

Fics posted: 7 public, 1 currently hidden, 1 awaiting submission date + 3 tumblr microfics

Fics started (and maybe finished): 18 + 3 tumblr microfics

Word count of fics posted: 414,013

Total word count written: 513,953

Sorry, but what the actual fuck do you mean I've written over 500k words since April? Put me in restraints, truly.

My favourite fic I wrote this year: The Brightest Constellations of Our Souls

My most kudos'd fic of this year: Driving me crazy (but I'm into it)

I've also read, like, a fucking horrendous amount of fics this year. More than I think I read back when I was deep in the One Direction trenches as a teen. Getting back into writing has given me a fresh appreciation for everyone's work; it's so fucking hard to write well and everyone who puts themselves out there and does that gets an online hug from me.

After Erised reveals I'll be posting a ridiculously long list of my favourite fics that were posted in 2023. It is ... exhaustive. I should probably be embarrassed by how long it is.

But without further ado, a recap of my fics from this year.

May

Driving me crazy (but I'm into it) (8k, E) (Draco/Harry)

Draco’s fucked a lot of people. He’s fucked models, Quidditch players, members of the Wizengamot, even a Muggle actor, but none of them come quite as prettily as Harry Potter.

September

A Walk in the Woods (48k, E) (Draco/Harry)

After ending up in the Spell Damage Ward at St Mungo’s, Harry is put on mandatory holiday leave.

The catch: he has to spend it with Malfoy at his cottage deep in the woods. Harry has no idea why Malfoy agreed to host him, considering he avoided ever being alone in a room with Harry before he left for his sabbatical a year ago.

To complicate things, Harry’s enormous longstanding crush hasn’t waned at all in Malfoy’s absence.

For: HP Cottagecore Fest

The Brightest Constellations of Our Souls (256k, E) (Draco/Harry)

Harry doesn’t know how to cope after the War. The only things that make him feel even remotely normal again are taking risks while flying and fighting with Malfoy. It’s not likely to end well.

Or,

Draco becomes obsessed with ‘Wonderwall’, reads Muggle books, and drives a campervan, while Harry slowly falls in love with Draco. A story about travelling around the British Isles in the late 90s while healing deep scars.

October

Capillaries (3.6k, M) (Draco/Harry)

Draco’s Sectumsempra scars have never fully healed. He says that it’s not Harry’s fault, that he doesn’t blame him for it. Harry hears him, but he’s not sure that he believes it.

Evergreen (23k, T) (Harry/George)

“You’d better hurry up, mate, or all the good ones will have gone.” Fred leaned back and crossed his arms over his chest, clearly thinking that he’d now exceeded his allowance of brotherly wisdom for the day.

“Who are you going with then?” Harry asked suddenly. He looked between Fred and George, a thoughtful expression on his face.

Harry asks George to the Yule Ball because it’ll be a laugh and he’s in dire need of one of those. If George can continue to keep his crush under wraps it should all go swimmingly.

For: HP Rarepair Fest IV

Celestial (paint me like one of your starscapes) (30k, E) (Draco/Harry)

Draco needs a partner for an art project. The only catch is, they have to be magically compatible with him for the paints to work properly. He’s fairly certain that he knows who his partner will need to be, he’s just not sure that he wants to admit it.

For: H/D Sudsfest Lite 2023

November

November Flush (5k, E) (Draco/Harry)

Draco Malfoy might be an absolute raging arsehole, but he gives Harry exactly what he needs.

Microfics (all Draco/Harry)

From one to another, for the prompt 'follow': tumblr link

Til resentment do us part, for the prompt 'keep': tumblr link

Satiate, for the prompt 'indulge': tumblr link

Thoughts / feeling / goals for next year

Pride, slight embarrassment, love, appreciation.

For the coming year I'm excited to get stuck into writing even more. I've got so many ideas that I'm excited to work through and a fantastic community to do that with. I will need to be bullied into not signing up for more fests in the new year, so please give me a nudge if my blogging starts to look stressed. Also never be nervous to send me a message about random shit if you're on the fence!

If you have read this far, have read even a single sentence I've written this year, or have thought my Squirtle pic looks cool, I love you, I appreciate you, and I support you.

The motto for 2024? Bedcurtains. One word, not two.

Thanks for being here! ❤️

[theconstellationprincess]

A little something for my favourite wizard from Waterdeep

-

There was little time for coping mechanisms when on the road. Compartmentalize and move on, there was preparation to be had and walking to do, don’t spend time dwelling and actually process things, that’s far too time-consuming. Of course, Gale’s brain had chosen a wonderful coping mechanism that was wholly and entirely involuntary, on top of often being quite inconvenient. Becoming mentally smaller was when stress was embarrassing at least, and deadly at worst. He didn’t physically regress everytime his brain decided it could no longer handle thinking like Gale of Waterdeep, and instead reformed to Gale Dekarios thank Gods, but it happened on occasion, which was even worse.

Since starting their travels as a group of companions, Gale had managed to quite successfully shove down his regression to the point that no one else knew. Sure there had been a couple of moments where he had stumbled over a few words, giggled over simple magic, but nothing that couldn’t be chocked up to exhaustion and just being an odd guy. Of course, several secrets have been spilled, and almost everyone, himself included, had promised that, “why of course! No more secrets here!”, only to have another one revealed a day later. 

However, it had been a very awful day. Goblins were horrible creatures, and if he had to see another one of them ever again it would be far too soon. They had been ambushed, and Gale had taken a rather painful slash across his side. They had won, in the end, but everyone was tired and cranky, which included the resident healer Shadowheart. She tended to the others and announced she was drained of magic for the day before Gale had even the opportunity to ask to be healed. He lagged behind on their walk back to camp, not far enough to draw attention, but enough to be alone, and not stress the clotting wound. Once they got back to camp he would have a potion of healing, but for now he would have to deal with the painful stretching, and horrible sensation of sticky, drying blood fusing his shirt to his side.

Tears pricked his eyes as they walked, and he wanted nothing more than to curl up in his pajamas and read. He had recently discovered a book of stories for children in an abandoned house they’d picked over, and had slipped it into his pack before anyone took notice. He hadn’t had the chance to read it yet, and tonight would be perfect.

“Do keep up darling,” He heard Astarion call back to him. Gale took a fortifying breath and forced a smile on his face.

“Yes, of course! On my way.”

\\\

“Shit,” Gale hissed as he carefully peeled his shirt from his skin. He muffled a whimper as he painfully tugged at the scab. He could feel fresh blood begin to gush from the wound, but he had a health potion on hand. He just needed to keep his shirt away from it, lest he completely fuse his clothing to his person. He was muffling sobs instead of whimpers by the time they were finally separate, and quickly chugged the potion of healing. The familiar warmth of the healing magic spread across the wound until it was stitched shut. Gale forced back a gag, healing potions had never sat well with him, and instead focused on the relief of the wound having shut. Now that the danger had passed, the events of the day came crashing down on him, and Gale found himself overwhelmed, and small. Tears continued to fall lazily from his eyes as he squirmed out of his robes, and stumbled towards the chest he had containing the small bit of supplies he had when, well, small. He quickly snatched the soft onesie that rested on the top of the pile and tugged it on. Once he was comfortable, he reached into the chest once again. He pulled out the book he had found recently, and after a few moments of hesitation pulled out a pacifier and stuffed Tressym as well. He wanted Tara, but the plush would have to do. He slipped the pacifier, a deep purple, into his mouth and curled up on his bedroll. He wasn’t sure what age he currently was, he wasn’t fully regressed, but he certainly wasn't an adult.

Of course, because he could never have a moment of peace, just after he had gotten settled and opened the book, a few quick knocks sounded outside of his tent. “Gale, may I come in?” Astarion requested cheerfully. He was likely there for a new book, but Gale wasn’t focussed on that so much as the anxiety he felt knowing that Astarion could open his tent at any moment and view Gale at his most vulnerable. Gale shut his eyes and focussed on channeling the weave, casting a simple glamor that would make him appear to be in his normal clothing and hesitantly (sadly) pulled out his pacifier and stuffed it back in the chest. 

“Yes, come in!” Gale called once he had assured his glamor was in place. The tent flap opened and Astarion stepped in, as put together as always. Sharp eyes looked him over, and Gale prayed to Mystra that his magic would hold true. “After a new book?” Gale asked, biting his tongue to prevent speaking anymore. His voice was off, higher, softer. Astarion would surely notice. He pointed at the one on the center of his desk, “I’d recommend that.” 

“What’s it about?” Oh no, Gale’s weakness, being asked about books he enjoyed. He bit his tongue harshly and smiled cheekily.

“You’ll have to read it and find out.” Gale said, instead of waxing poetic about how wonderful the characters developed in the strange world they found themselves in. There’s a vampire in it, and he was excited for Asterion's scathing review of the character. Astarion was looking at him curiously, like he was a puzzle not quite put together yet. Gale gave him another smile. “Trying to quick me out, darling?” Astarion purred, but Gale caught the undertone. The underlying hurt, masked by a seductive comment. Gale opened his mouth to defend himself, but was interrupted before he could start by Astarion asking, “Who is that?” “What?” Gale asked, following Astarions sight light to- oh, oh no. Pink faced, Gale grabbed the stuffed toy he’d stupidly left within sight and shoved it beneath his pillow. “Nothing- No one!” Gale squeaked, his blush deepening when Astarion simply looked at him with a smirk. “Surely they must be someone, to have been awarded a place in your bedroll.” Astarion teased, but not cruelly. Gale recognised the word’s weren’t harsh or mocking, but instead kind. Gale swallowed, eyes flicking towards the chest where his pacifier sat, perhaps- no. No, a stuffed toy was one thing, a pacifier was another. “Tara,” Gale mumbled softly. “Her name is Tara.” If his voice was softer, breathy, then it was from embarrassment, nothing else.

“Like you're familiar?” Astarion asked, and Gale smiled brightly. He nodded, pulling Tara back out from her place under the pillow.

“This Tara is a Tressym too!” Gale gushed excitedly, “And sometimes her an’ real Tara cuddle!” Gale continued, grinning brightly. Astarion grinned back at him, and Gale realized what he’d just done. Gale tried to reel himself back in, but he could feel his glamor flicker. Astarions eyes caught on it immediately, and he tilted his head. Gale swallowed nervously.

“Do you have a glamor on?” Astarion asked, sounding simply curious. Gale nodded, flushing. “Could you remove it?” Gale inhaled sharply, looking up at Astarion, expecting to see humor or amusement, but he only saw curiosity and concern. Concern? Whatever for? Gale pushed that thought away and instead focussed on dropping the glamor. He shivered as it tumbled away, magic less refined and controlled due to lacking his normal mental fortitude. He felt embarrassed, with Astarion in casual, but still fancy, dress whereas Gale was in a purple onesie, complete with a hood with eyes, tail, and wings, because of course it was a Tressym as well. He expected laughter, or a summon to their other members to witness his humiliation, but instead he got a hand pulling the hood over his head.

“Adorable.” Astarion cooed softly, and Gale blushed yet again. He squirmed in his seat a bit, unsure of what to do with all the kindness, with the attention. His gaze flicked towards the chest again, temptation overtaking his mind. “What’s in the box, darling? You keep looking at it like it’s a particularly tasty magical artifact.” Gale giggled at the joke, high pitched and breathy.

“Paci,” Gale explained, “‘n some stories. But I already gotta story book.” Gale continued, gently slapping the cover of the aforementioned book. “Wan’ paci,” Gale mumbled, pouting. He looked up at Astarion with puppy eyes, hopeful. Astarion was looking right back at him, squinting slightly. Gale tensed, had he done something wrong? “How old are you right now?” Astarion asked. Gale squirmed again, ignoring the question in favor of just grabbing the pacifier for himself, though he didn’t put it in yet. He fiddled with it, contemplating the question. He slipped the pacifier into his mouth, finding instant comfort in its presence. 

“Small,” Gale replied after a few more moments. The word was slightly slurred around the pacifier, but Gale didn’t care much. He was past the point of embarrassment, he was too small for that. “Read?” Gale asked when Astarion made no further comments, picking up the book and holding it out towards the pale elf. 

Astarion took the book, flipping it open to the first story. Gale gave a quiet cheer of excitement and settled into his bed roll, cuddling Tara as he laid down. His pacifier bobbed in his mouth as he listened to Astarion’s smooth voice tell the tale of ducklings who get separated from their mother, only to return all together at the end. The next story was about a puppy, and Gale wasn’t sure how that one ended because he fell asleep during it. He swore he felt a forehead kiss before hearing Astarion leave, but he could have dreamt it.