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scoops-aboy86 · 15 days

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Your Smile Is My Favorite

Prompt Used: Summer reading (@thehairandthebanished) and cheesy pickup lines (@softsteddieseptember) | Your Smile Is My Favorite | Rating: T | CW: mild body image issues | Additional Tags: chubby Steve Harrington, gay Eddie Munson, pining, bizarre communication through intricate pickup line rituals, Robin loves these two idiots

I wrote most of this while on a 11 hour car trip, I’ll post it to ao3 later. 🥱 Still the 4th in my time zone though!

It’s hard to stay absorbed in a book when Steve Harrington is swimming laps in his little red shorts, but Eddie is managing.

Sort of. Kinda.

Okay, not really. Or at all.

But he’s read Return of the King so many times before that he can fill in any paragraphs his eyes accidentally skim over from memory, so it’s fine. And he definitely rolled high on stealth by being smart enough to bring sunglasses, because Middle Earth has nothing on his view of Steve’s chest while the guy does the backstroke.

Earlier in the summer Steve would have been poolside with Eddie and Robin, sprawled out in the sun snacking on pizza and chips with them and letting Eddie draw him into their umpteenth debate on which is better, Coca Cola or Mountain Dew. Now he’s going at it in the pool like he has something to prove, or diving in over and over while complaining about his form.

Which, Eddie thinks, is a very fine form indeed. He’s thickened up some since their harrowing adventures last Spring Break, transformed from merely good-looking to downright beefy in a way that makes Eddie’s mouth water and fingers twitch with the urge to rake through that tantalizing chest hair, test the give of Steve’s deliciously softer pecs and stomach. It’s starting to become a problem.

As if Aragorn, son of Arathorn, would have an easier time concentrating on a book about the Party’s adventures if Arwen were parading around in front of him while scantily clad, Eddie thinks, trying to make himself feel like a little bit less of a pining loser.

“Take a picture, it’ll last longer,” Robin says, sounding bored from the next lounge chair over. She hasn’t even looked up from her own book.

Eddie considers protesting. He could; they’ve never actually discussed the way they’d clocked each other as queer during Spring Break, he has plausible deniability.

Instead, he says, “Got a camera you can loan me, Birdie?”

She snorts, sliding her bookmark into place as she turns towards him on her lounger. “No, but now that we’re talking about it, can we talk about how your crush is visible from, like, space?”

“He is not!” The protest tumbles out of him before Eddie even thinks about it, and his cheeks immediately flare red under layers of sunblock. It’s not like Robin would talk about the way her platonic soulmate had recently put on some extra weight like that, Eddie is just a moron. Well, he’ll just have to blow past it and pretend he’d been… bluffing about his crush not being Steve. Yeah. “Uh, I mean. Fuck, I’m not being too obvious, am I?”

Robin’s grin is smug, and definitely a little bit at his expense. “Not really. You’re super easily distracted when there’s more people around, so the kids haven’t picked up on it yet.” She glances back at the pool and the expression softens to amused affection. “It’s written all over your face right now, but I’m pretty sure dingus over there has this fixed idea about your type being all dark clothes and leather and tattoos. He’ll never figure it out on his own, completely hopeless.”

That’s a relief to hear. Eddie relaxes beneath the shade of his poolside umbrella, glances down at his book again…

And snaps it shut and scrunches up on his side to face her too. He’ll be able to find his place again later, more or less. The occasional splashes of Steve reaching one side of the pool and flipping around to swim back fades into the background for the first time all day in the face of this new, unexplored conversational territory.

“So,” he says matter-of-factly. Because he’s reconciled with this a long time ago: Robin has literally helped save his life a number of times, she’s safe. “Clearly you’ve got me all figured out. And there’s no way you could be around that all the time and still get anything done without being… oppositely inclined.”

She nods, and the teeny tiny bit of him that had been braced just in case he was wrong relaxes. “Yeah. I don’t see the appeal, but I’ve literally seen a few girls walk into things when they catch sight of him.”

Eddie snickers, like the hypocrite slightly wired on nerves and relief that he is. Curbs, trash cans, the glass doors of Family Video… he’s been there, done that, and been forced to turn it into a bit so no one catches on to what all of those instances had in common. (Steve smiling at him. Steve looking at him. Just, Steve.)

“Not as many lately though,” Robin confides, a little sad. “Shallow bitches.”

“Shallow as hell,” Eddie agrees. One hundred percent. “They have no idea what they’re missing out on.”

“It’s taking a toll on him,” she continues. “You know, how his hair kinda deflates a little when he’s bummed out? Those great big puppy dog eyes come out and it’s all—” her voice drops in a possible Steve impression “—‘Is it me, Rob? What am I doing wrong?’”

Eddie huffs a wordless disagreement with that whole sentiment. Wrong with Steve? Wrong with Steve? There’s nothing wrong with Steve, in his opinion. Badass scars, heart of gold, hair of the gods, and a little more meat on his bones making him even more solid and dependable? Sign Eddie the fuck up.

Sure, there’s also the nightmares and a general jumpiness whenever the phone rings or lights flicker or a radio starts to crackle, but the same can be said of pretty much everyone in the Party, Eddie included. It’s perfectly understandable after everything they’ve been through, the number of times they’ve helped save the world.

“I think that’s why he’s leaning so hard into swimming again,” Robin adds. And even though she seems totally casual, there’s something… not pointed, exactly, but definitely not dull behind her words. She’s giving him a look that Eddie can’t figure out, because he just doesn’t have the same kind of in-tune-ness with her that she and Steve display on a regular basis, having conversations with nothing but stares, blinks, and funny eyebrow twitches.

He tries anyway. Even pushes his sunglasses up into his hair for a clearer look, but message not received. Frowning, he glances over his shoulder at the pool again. “Because he’s… upset about not going on dates lately?”

Not that Eddie had been paying attention or anything. Not that he’d daydreamed hopelessly a few times that it was because Steve was hung up on him, lingering a bit more than necessary when dropping off and picking up the kids on Hellfire days. Inviting Eddie to hangout days like this. Taking Eddie up on it whenever he offers to smoke the guy out, usually when they both have dark circles from sleeping poorly blooming under their eyes and everything about the no longer in peril world around them feels like too much. Springing for fast food whenever they get the munchies, since Eddie supplied the grass…

“Because he thinks there’s something wrong about him,” Robin corrects, “that he needs to work out.”

Oh. What—oh. Eddie blinks, reorients, and realizes that the thing he hadn’t been able to read before is concern. “But… he looks so good,” he says dumbly.

Steve is self-conscious about his weight? Oh no, that won’t do at all. Eddie’s mind is already racing through ways to reassure their friend that he looks great, fantastic, amazing, all the positive adjectives that he knows. He wants to build Steve up, make sure he knows that there are definitely people who would absolutely jump at the chance to be with him.

Or, you know, right here. Or something.

Splashing sounds draw his attention back to the pool, and it’s Steve wading up the shallow end towards them, apparently tired out for the time being. And Eddie… panics.

“Damn, Harrington,” he blurts out, “is it hot out here or is it just you?”

Which is. It’s. Something out of that terrible pickup lines book one of the Corroded Coffin guys found at a yard sale a few weeks ago—he can’t remember who exactly, maybe Jeff?—that they’d all howled over, reading the worst ones out loud in ridiculous voices. Why the hell is that what popped into his head?

Steve pauses with one foot still in the pool, squinting at him. “Uh… It’s definitely hot today. Are you… overheated or something? I could get you some ice water.”

“No, I’m good,” Eddie manages. And then, because he’s an idiot, he continues, “Have I told you lately that you’re very attractive? You must eat magnets for breakfast.”

He catches a glimpse of Robin out of the corner of one eye. For a second he hopes that she might step in and save him from himself, but nope; her face is frozen in a look of appalled fascination. No help coming from that quarter.

“I,” Steve starts, stepping the rest of the way out of the pool and putting both hands on his hips like he doesn’t know what else to do with them. “Dude, are you high?”

If only he were. The proximity of Steve’s naked, dripping wet chest and the gentle roll over the top of his swim trunks seems to have roughly the same effect on him though.

“Nope,” Eddie squeaks. His face feels incandescent, and he can’t even blame it on a sunburn. And still he opens his mouth again, because he’s already gone this far, might as well commit to the bit. “But we should smoke up later, sweetheart. I think weed be really good together.”

That one wasn’t from the book. It’s an Eddie Munson original. If death took him now, he would not hate it.

Steve looks to Robin, who shrugs and throws him a towel. He catches it and starts drying his hair, returning his attention to Eddie with a perplexed look. “Low blood sugar?” he asks, and it takes a second for Eddie to place that Steve is still trying to guess why he’s being so weird.

As if the Freak of Hawkins needs something so pedestrian as a reason.

“We can order pizza,” Robin suggests in a strangled voice. She’s trying so hard not to laugh, which is good. Probably.

Eddie can muster a little gratitude for that, right up until he opens his mouth again and “Oh, are you craving pizza? Because I’d love to get a pizz-a you” falls out.

… Maybe he does have low blood sugar. Or, like. A brain tumor or something.

Steve sends Robin another look, then shrugs and heads inside the house. Presumably to order pizza, and hopefully for Eddie’s sanity to put on a shirt.

As soon as the glass door slides shut behind him, Robin whips around and whisper yells, “What the hell was that?!”

Eddie throws himself back on his lounger and covers his face with both hands. “I don’t know. I wanted to cheer him up, make him feel good about himself or something, but—”

“And you thought hitting on him would do the trick? Very badly, I might add!”

“Oh, like you know anything about what works when hitting on dudes!” Eddie shoots back, even though she’s right. So very right. Cruelly correct, to a poor gay man who is suffering.

He rolls over on the chair, only putting a knee or elbow through the plastic straps beneath him a few times before flopping face down and tugging his own unused towel over his entire head. It’s almost restful under there. The lounger cradles his face a little too high because the back is still angled slightly up for, you know, lounging… and Return of the King is dry and solid under one shoulder, twisting his frame a little oddly, but other than that…

By the time Steve comes back outside, Eddie barely notices. He feels slow and drowsy from the heat, everything muffled by the towel. But he does hear a scrape over the concrete beneath him and cracks an eye open to peer through the gaps in the chair.

It’s a slice of pepperoni and extra cheese on a paper plate, positioned directly below his head, right where he can smell it.

Fuck, okay. He can’t not get up for food freely offered. It’s just not how Wayne raised him.

“There you are,” Steve says brightly when Eddie emerges and resituates himself with the plate in hand. “Feeling better? Seemed like the heat was getting to you there.”

“Must’ve,” Eddie replies with a weak laugh. “Thanks.” For the pizza, and for allowing him some semblance of dignity to fall back on after… whatever that had been. Because Steve, above all else, is a good dude; something Eddie has been all too aware of for over a year now.

Steve passes him a can of Mountain Dew and taps his own Coke can against it like a toast. “Don’t mention it. And, uh, Eds…” He’s starting to smile, just a little. “I know this is going to sound cheesy, but I think you're the gratest.”

Somewhere to Eddie’s other side, Robin chokes on her drink and has to cough a few times to clear it.

Eddie just stares, jaw dropped open and feeling flushed all over, heart in his throat. Even with his hair still wet and smelling strongly of chlorine, Steve has somehow retained that signature swoop. Maybe he fixed it while he was inside, procuring pizza and slipping into an old and raggedy high school gym shirt that makes him only slightly less biteable.

And that smile, fully bloomed now and brighter than the afternoon sun. Like he’s decided, playfully, to meet Eddie at his level no matter how dumb it is.

“Alright,” Robin rasps. “Okay. I’m just gonna go inside to finish my summer reading while you dingi do… whatever this is.” Followed by the creak of her chair as she clambers off.

“Don’t mess with the thermostat,” Steve calls after her. He turns slightly to do it and releases Eddie from his tractor beam stare, letting Eddie breathe again—when had he stopped doing that? And then those hazel eyes are back on him, hypnotizing. “Well? Cat got your tongue, or do you have any more?”

The words are… different, now that they’re alone. Quieter. Steve is leaning forward slightly, legs over the side of the chair as he faces Eddie. Elbows on his knees and Coke can dangling forgotten from one big hand. His stare is intense in a way that is almost too terrifying to try to read into.

Eddie wets his lips nervously. “No, I… I’ve got more.” He sits up a little straighter, turns to put his feet down on the shaded but still warm concrete and face Steve head-on. “I’m no photographer, but I can picture us together.”

It sounds, feels, almost terrifyingly like a confession.

Steve’s grin gets impossibly brighter and Eddie is back to not daring to breathe, because what is happening. “Are you a camera? Because every time I look at you, I smile.”

Which is. That’s. Does he? Eddie is having some sort of out of body experience trying to think back.

The part of him that’s still anchored in bones and nerves and skin takes a deep breath. Committing to it.

“Of all the beautiful curves on your body, your smile is my favorite,” he hears himself say, and it’s probably the plainest, most honest words he’s uttered in his entire twenty-one years of life.

It’s not like he thinks Steve is going to punch him for saying it. Or even for saying it like that. Good dude, inescapable. But he wasn’t expecting the guy’s eyes to go big and molten, or for him to swallow hard, all while that amazing smile never dims.

“I’m… Shit, I’m going to give you a kiss, Eddie. If you don't like it, you can return it.”

And then Steve leans forward, and does.

Half an hour later, Robin comes back outside to check on them and finds the two young men twined together on one lounger. Steve is sprawled half on top of Eddie, who looks like he’s holding him in place with both legs and teasing a half eaten slice of pizza against Steve’s mouth. Steve snaps at it with his teeth, and Eddie yanks it away but then goes back in to tap it against his lips anyway with a laugh, loose and easy. Happy.

They both look so happy together.

She knew it. All she’d had to do was get those two pining idiots talking about something real—even if Eddie had surprised her with a deeply unexpected means of doing so. Whatever, he’s weird, nothing new there. The important thing is that her plan to end her two best friends’ ridiculous mutual pining for one another had worked.

And Steve hadn’t believed her when she’d insisted that the metalhead definitely doesn’t think it’s a bad thing that his clothes all fit a little more snug these days. Ha. One more tally on her own You Rule column.

Feeling magnanimous, Robin decides to wait until they’re done with lunch to turn the hose on them.

Permanent tag list: @hotluncheddie @lawrencebshoggoth @sofadofax @irishvampireboy @oatmilk-vampire

@wheneverfeasible @hamiltonswiftie @grtwdsmwhr @yesdangerpls @theseaofdespair

#chubby steve harrington #scoops words #wg steddie #sbtsb24 #Soft Steddie September

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altruistic-meme · 1 month

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skk fic rec time !!! 🖤🖤

okay i officially have more skk fics bookmarked on my ao3 than my sister has fics in general bookmarked on hers. so. it is time for another ficrec list by abram, bsd/skk version this time!!!

i have no idea yet how many fics will be on this list. i will go until i decide to stop. but as of right now i have 124 bsd fics bookmarked and i definitely won't be listing all of them so if anyone wants a pt. 2 then i certainly have the material to do that.

i'm not putting warnings with the fics, but bc this is BSD please do take note of tags and warnings that are given! i read a lot of fics with darker material so do be cautious!

One-Shots:

keep you alive, set you on fire by flyby @orbitalflyby (Explicit, 23k) Dazai steps out in a dress and heels for a mission, since the gown won't fit Yosano. He's only supposed to spend an hour or so leading their targets on a dance around a charity gala, but the unexpected arrival of a certain Port Mafia Executive threatens to disrupt all his plans. And when he and Chuuya find themselves finally face to face, they end up entwined in a tense game of mutual provocation...

Don't Pull Your Punches by kanekei (Teen and Up Audiences, 5k) Everyone thinks that their partnership is a series of Dazai being a troublemaker while Chuuya is helplessly dragged along for the ride. That couldn’t be farther from the truth. Some days it feels like Dazai is the only one aware of how insane Chuuya actually is. OR: 3 times Dazai cleans up after Chuuya + 1 time he doesn’t bother

The 5 Elements of an Apology by artemisiatea (Teen and Up Audiences, 6k) in which dazai learns that change is hard, but accountability is harder

Tea Over Rice by the_most_happy (Teen and Up Audiences, 8k) “Oi, Dazai— what would people say if they saw us?” Dazai gave him a puzzled look. “That we’re happy,” he answered. He made it sound simple; he made it sound pure. “They would say we’re happy.” They never stopped being Double Black — just different clothes and less blood on their hands. [Or: What if Dazai and Chuuya escaped the Port Mafia together?]

Lost All Judgement by todxrxki (Teen and Up Audiences, 12k) “Uh, sorry, but unfortunately I already have a date to the dance.” “Oh, really?” Tachihara says, sounding disappointed. He pauses for a second, clearly processing what Chuuya’s just told him, and then says, “Who is it?” Chuuya certainly hadn’t budgeted for this. Panicking, he tries to think of the people that he knows that are single, and before he knows it, the first name that comes to mind is slipping out of his mouth. “With Dazai.” / After a momentary lapse in judgment, high school student Chuuya ends up having to pretend to date his enemy Dazai to get Tachihara off of his back - and quickly finds it's nowhere as bad as he'd imagined.

oh darling it's alarming to think of us apart (you know you've got me in your pocket) by interludewings (Teen and Up Audiences, 20k) “Okay so if we’re both still single when we’re twenty two,” Dazai’s smile grew even wider. “Let’s marry each other.” By the time Chuuya’s twenty two, he’d probably be in a relationship with someone else, and the possibilities of them even remembering each other were slim to none. And so, Chuuya gave his answer. “Fine, let’s do that.” In short, fifteen year olds Dazai Osamu and Nakahara Chuuya made a stupid promise one day in their school library out of boredom, which leads to the next seven years of their life filled with fighting, burnt notebooks and late night conversations.

The Undercover Mission by OldSauk411 (Teen and Up Audiences, 16k) It all started when Atsushi was sent to drop off some papers that the Port Mafia had let them borrow. That was when he saw her, the woman with orange hair and blue eyes standing in the Port Mafia's hallways and talking. She was beautiful if he was being honest. However, after he left, he forgot about her- at least until a few months later, when the ADA and the Port Mafia teamed up for an undercover mission. One that was led by said 'woman'. Aka, Chuuya Nakahara. _____ Or: Atsushi sees a woman from a distance and thinks she's beautiful, up until the Port Mafia and the ADA team up for an undercover mission and it's revealed that the woman was actually Chuuya Nakahara.

Nothing but your spine by osamuchuu (Mature, 6k) “Oi, Dazai. We’re here.” Chuuya reached into the car to shake Dazai’s shoulders a bit, rearranging his coat to lay over the man’s back. Dazai swayed and blinked up at him. Whatever painkillers he’d been given had stolen the sharpness from his face. Dazai looked fifteen again, wide-eyed and vulnerable. And then he smiled. He smiled and Chuuya’s heart stuttered because it was so fucking real, so small and different from all the painted faces he wore now. This was dangerous.

strange loyalties by finalizer @tarmairons (Mature, 13k) “The Agency dorms are being fumigated,” Dazai explained cheerfully. “So, I offered—Atsushi can stay with us.” Or: Atsushi's observations from inside Yokohama's strangest household.

[sidenote: this is actually a sequel fic and while i loved the first one, this one really just took me to a whole other plane of existence which is why it's the one on the rec list. i do also rec the first one though!]

Yokohama public High School- almost as crazy as their pep rallies by BlowingYourMind (General Audiences, 20k) "The slacks! They're way too tight on him! Exactly no teachers ass should be like that, the students may be offended-" "Dazai, I think you're the only one that notices, and maybe refrain from eyeing up your co-workers like that-" "But how can I not!" Dazai huffed "It's right there in front of my face, it's hideous!" Oda sighed. he was just an average man with an average job gaining an average salary, but he would need to find a way to help Dazai and his obvious crush on Chuuya Nakahara before he lost his sanity. Or The story of how Chemistry teacher Dazai Osamu fell helplessly for coach Nakahara Chuuya, and the student body's many attempts to get them together.

If you refuse to listen I'll say it twice, love of my life by olympiansally @olympiansally (Mature, 15k) There’s Atsushi, Dazai’s star pupil. There’s Fyodor, arguably Dazai’s soulmate, a single mind in two bodies. There’s Kunikida, Dazai’s partner. There’s Oda, the reason Dazai wants to live. And then there’s Chuuya. If he asked Dazai to define him, to name his purpose, Chuuya already knows what he would hear. Chuuya is his dog, Chuuya is a slug, Chuuya is a chibi. And sure, maybe he is. But none of that is enough. Or, Chuuya can’t figure out what he means to Dazai exactly, but if he would only listen, he would realize that Dazai has been telling him all along.

In the throes of Corruption by BlowingYourMind (Teen and Up Audiences, 7k) Dazai’s ability ‘No longer human’ ironically made Chuuya human. It stripped him of the god that set his insides to flame and wreaked havoc. Corruption was terrible to Chuuya but Dazai’s touch never was. Or Five times Dazai helps Chuuya through the throes of Corruption.

hide the truth by writingfromtheshadows (Not Rated, 24k) When Chuuya wakes up in the middle of an ongoing fight without any memory of how he got there or what happened to him, he ends up turning to someone saved as 'bandage-waster' in his phone. Somehow, it just feels like the right decision.

Dream a little dream of me by BlowingYourMind (Teen and Up Audiences, 9k) "What would you like to dream of, Chuuya?" Dazai asked, and his partner shifted in the bed before settling down. "I dunno idiot, you pick." Dazai hummed, "I believe I can arrange that." Chuuya's eyelashes fluttered against Dazai's palm as Dazai continued to speak, voice turning into a whisper as he spoke late into the night. Or Chuuya can't dream, and Dazai has a soloution that quickly turns into a routine between the two of them.

Multichapter fics (all complete)

in the mirror, i bloom by ephemeralis (Teen and Up Audiences, 12k, 2/2) It twists him, turns him, curls in his chest like something alive, something he knows but can’t dare to name. Chuuya curses the red-black petals that fall from his lips, these nearly rotten things that tear him apart from the inside out. Part of him wants to rip his own traitorous heart out, through a ribcage shattered by feelings he can’t contain. Anger is easy, a thing he’s learned to control. This— whatever the hell this is— is not. Or at least it’s easier to feel as though this is beyond his own control, because Chuuya is not in love. (It feels like a lie even to himself.) After he's hit by a strange ability, Chuuya is forced to consider truths he'd much rather keep hidden- but not everything is as simple it seems.

[sidenote: this was the first bsd fic i ever read and HOOOOLLY CRAP what a beautiful way to join the fandom. i've reread this fic several times since. stunning.]

where your loyalties lie by writingfromtheshadows (Explicit, 163k, 20/20) Loyalty is the foundation of the yakuza code, something that was drilled into Chuuya at an early age. However, his lessons did not cover how to manage a political marriage with his organization's oldest rival.

Inseparable by milwritsecausewhynot (Teen and Up Audiences, 107k, 21/21) Best friends is too simple a term to squash the entire dynamic of Dazai Osamu and Nakahara Chuuya within. Sure, they’ve known each other since they were children, and they’re each other’s #1 on their best friend lists on Snapchat, and Chuuya’s been seen one too many times in his hoodies. People have also noticed how Dazai’s main muse for his volunteer hobby of polaroid photographer is the redhead himself. But the pranks they pull on each other isn’t much of a ‘best friend’ thing to do. Especially when one of the pranks get pulled so far, That Chuuya is forbidden from seeing Dazai ever again. And though he sees no good coming from such a forced separation, the one thing that can enhance their futures together is propelled forward at a faster speed than either of them could have ever imagined: Coming to terms with their unusual feelings for each other.

Do I Get My Worthless Reward Yet? by World_Ender22 (Teen and Up Audiences, 40k, 10/10) Chuuya has always been certain of two things: he is going to die young, and it will be Corruption that kills him. So when the Boss orders him to use his Corrupted form without an out, he is neither surprised nor distressed. He simply does what he's told. When Dazai learns that the whole thing is a ploy to make him rejoin the Mafia, he plans to beat Mori at his own game... starting with convincing Chuuya to join the Armed Detective Agency. / Soukoku

When I Awake by wildflowertea @wildflowerteas (Mature, 235k, 23/23) Dazai Osamu has been in a coma for exactly one year, seven months, and twenty-two days. But Death still refuses to take him. Trapped in the space between worlds, and unable to die, Dazai waits, killing what precious time he may have left and hoping—praying—that his family will pull the plug and move on. He doesn't expect someone to move into his old apartment instead. Nakahara Chuuya, two-time Grammy awards winner, and freshly unemployed pessimist, has never believed in fate—much less the supernatural. But the lively—if a bit annoying—ghost of his apartment's previous tenant, might just change everything.

hopelessly devoted by soukocacola (Explicit, 188k, 18/18) "Get your grades up." Oda tells him. "Then we'll talk." Well, Dazai thinks. If he's going to be miserable, the least he can do is make Chuuya miserable, too. Maybe then Chuuya will ditch him and Dazai can fail out of college with no regrets.

His Prized Experiment by fauxtales @fauxfroot (Mature, 94k, 18/18) "As terrifying as it could be, there was something just so freeing in using Corruption. It is, after all, his strongest state. No one can harm him when he uses Corruption; he is all but invincible. There are days when he lets himself dream. There is the part of him wondering if that’s just the god or his instincts trying to convince him to unleash pure chaos and destruction on the world, but that thought is easy enough to push away. He has no control in that state after all." As a teenager, Chuuya is subjected to experiments at Mori's hand in an attempt to find a way to control Corruption. Now, years later, Mori has decided it's time to revisit the experiments. Dazai is having none of it. But can they really leave their entire life behind?

death offers no absolution by Zairielon (Mature, 62k, 10/10) After so many years in the Port Mafia, Chuuya thought he couldn't be phased by anything - that he had carried out the worst orders that would ever be given to him. Then he sees things he never saw before. He sees horror, cruelty, needless suffering. He sees death in every step he takes. Chuuya is only human, too. Eventually, he breaks. OR, Chuuya leaves the Port Mafia and attempts to escape his bloodstained past.

from a to o, i love you so by anticide @anticidic (Explicit, 22k, 3/3) Here they were dancing a dangerous tango and crossing lines and blurring boundaries that neither Fukuzawa nor Mori would take kindly to. Dazai was supposed to have gotten over Chuuya, not melted in his embrace and bound them together for an eternity. (Or: Dazai and Chuuya's unconventional relationship sparks a radical change within Dazai when he wakes up one day under the weather and feeling very, very off.)

My Body is Your Body (I Won't Tell Anybody) by thereweregiants (Explicit, 26k, 2/2) Thanks to a rogue ability user, Dazai and Chuuya find themselves switching bodies. ...yeah, there's no way this ends well.

Mission - Entrancing Armed Detective Agency by cocktailjjrs (Teen and Up Audiences, 105k, 12/12) “Charming? Have you finally started dreaming now?” Dazai turned to face his longtime partner again “Say what you want, asshole, but people like me better anyway” Chuuya ignored the jab at his lack of dreams, only shrugging in response. “I can bet anything in this world that you can’t be liked by everyone. Your efforts will be fruitless by the end of the day” “Wanna bet?” Chuuya smirked “You’re on!” Dazai returned the smirk “I’ll tell you who your target will be” . . . In which, Dazai and Chuuya are upto their old shenanigans and make a bet. As a result - Bonds are formed, secrets are revealed, money is spent, devious plans are concatenated; someone gets drugged, someone gets punched, someone gets a wakeup slap. And Chuuya's 'brute' image is at imminent risk. All of this - to with the bet!

Prey to Your Instincts by skylorr (Mature, 98k, 8/8) He was a beta. He was normal. Barely any scent, no cycles, no mating instincts. Just plain old normal. At least, that’s what he thought. He thought he was normal. But instead, Dazai is currently curled up on his single mattress in the shipping container that he calls home as he sweats profusely and struggles through cramps, pains, and the desire to nest. His mattress has a single thin blanket, which apparently does not satisfy the omega instincts trying to claw their way out of his mind. He was so close, too; days away from his 17th birthday, the birthday that would have officially made him a beta. Hope is a killer disease.

[sidenote: there is also a sequel to this fic that i recommend just as much! it's still a WIP <3]

Illustrations of Lying by writingfromtheshadows (Mature, 49k, 20/20) It is more difficult, perhaps, to bear with fortitude the little daily trails of life, than great calamities, because we summon up all our spiritual and moral strength to resist the latter... Upon faced with the culmination of Mori's plan, Dazai does not go to Odasaku's side. Instead, he relieves Mori of his duties.

i'll bleed out for you by StarshipDancer @neonganymede (Mature, 75k, 7/7) What a shitty way to die.... Less than forty-eight hours ago, they’d been impaled together, and Chuuya had feared that the broken metal pole had pinned him in place against a corpse. Now, he worried that a corpse sat next to him, nothing more than a poorly-crafted imitation of his ex-partner. ... And what an even shittier situation to be stuck in. Or, A mission goes wrong, and Soukoku die together. Except, they don't, but now they're stuck in a safe house pretending that they did. And if Chuuya wants to find out what went wrong with Dazai's plan, he'll first have to find a way around the wall of silence that his former partner has built to keep him out.

Cigarette Game by chowderpuff (Teen and Up Audiences, 9k, 2/2) Chuuya has a crush on Dazai. Dazai knows this, and he thinks it’s a prime opportunity to mess with his partner a little. After all, why not? Chuuya’s reactions to his flirting are priceless, a new little bonus feature to the game between them, and Dazai actually starts to find it more entertaining than outright arguing. It’s all harmless fun until Dazai realizes that he has feelings too. Then it's decidedly not.

[ author's tumblrs are tagged when i could find them! if you know one who wasn't tagged or if you're an author and would like to be untagged, let me know! ]

#29 fics total jfc ksdhgkshdgkhsdgkh #so yep i definitely could do more of these and i probably will <3 but not for a good minute cus this took me like 2 hours #i love spreading the love and sharing my fave fics and there are sooo many and i didn't want to make this much longer #but anyway!!!#bsd #bungo stray dogs #bungou stray dogs #ficrec #fic rec list #fic rec #skk #soukoku #dazai x chuuya #dazai osamu #chuuya nakahara #bsd dazai #bsd chuuya #shh ac

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android-and-ale · 1 month

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My Philon Awards Spirk Fic and Art Recs (Updated)

EDIT: Updated to include art links! Scroll down to feast your eyes!

It's Philon Awards Season! I'm going through my bookmarks trying to decide how to narrow down the many, MANY amazing fics and art I've voraciously consumed.

If you're not deep in the fandom you might not have heard of the awards. They're given at KisCon, the annual Kirk/Spock convention in Seattle. However, they're open to nomination and voting by anyone who enjoys Spirk, no convention membership required!

Click Here for a link where you can learn all about the categories and access the anonymous google form to nominate your favorites. You don't have to attend the con to vote. It's open to all Spirk loving fans!

I've assembled my own short list below. It doesn't begin to cover all the great fics published in the last year, and for some of these writers narrowing it down to only a couple nominations each was incredibly hard! (For the official nominations ballot, you can only chose a max of 3.)

Whether or not any thing below makes it onto your personal nominations lists, please check them out. This has been a great year in the fandom!

Short Fic (under 10K):

Lost and Found in Translation by @indeedcaptain

How to Win Plants and Influence Lizards by @indeedcaptain

We Need Disposable Towels In The Gym by @affixjoy

Baby It's Cold Outside by ChancelorGriffen/SpaceIsGay

Here We Go Again Again Again Again Again Again Again Again (Again Again) by @flippyspoon

Melting Snow, Sweat, and Other Dripping Fluids by CampySpaceSlime

Long Fic (10K - 50K):

The Yeomen of the Garden by @cicaklah

Get Some by @flippyspoon

Please Don't Take Him Just Because You Can by ChancelorGriffen/SpaceIsGay

Way from Within by @gunstreet

Sugar In Your Hand by @werewolves-are-real

Don't You Know Me by @strangenewwords

Hurt by @therebewhaleshere

Novels (over 50K):

The Exiles by @jennelikejennay

The Recitation of Names by @jennelikejennay

Regulatory Relations by @indeedcaptain

(note: the author says RR will be complete before the end of the nomination period)

Mol-Kur by @uhuraprime

Of Trees And Telepathy by StupidCat

Traditional Art:

Untitled Nude Spock in Pencil by Florian/spirk-ny-love

The Ritual by Purple Enma

The Birth of Adam As Spirk by garneneva

A Piece of the Action by red-cicada

Untitled Spock as a Satyr by USS Genderprise

Untitled Pencil Screenshot Redraw by catloverkid00

Digital Art:

Captain's Gambit by Lorvee

Vulcan's Forge by CelestialVoyeur

Video of "Birdhouse in your soul" with Spirk art they drew by Knifecat111

Untitled Amok Time Portrait by Gensho

This Time In Front of the Klingons by Honey Ginsen

Untitled Shore Leave Gift by Eldar-of-Zemlya

A Barrier by iskander-tm

Kill Your Captain by asyncamestel

Untitled Plato's Stepchildren Art by daekiyu

Untitled Pride Month Pinky Kiss by who-i-am-is-who-i-am

(I might have to roll a D10 to pick my favorite art for the official nomination form. It's been such a good year, and so much stuff scrolls past with only a few seconds of appreciation. Treat yourself to another look!)

Shameless Self Recs (both fics under 10K):

And Filled With Tomorrows by me

Replicator Roulette by me

If you're looking for some great new fic, please read the back catalog of FlippySpoon, Moreta1848, IndeedCaptain, Gunstreet, SpaceIsGay, and the entire One Man series by Cicak. It's all so good! (All links take you to their AO3.)

THESE RECS ARE BY NO MEANS COMPREHENSIVE!

This has been a bumper year for Spirk! I'm about to write a follow up post with stats, but FWIW, based on AO3 posts, this is the most active the fandom has been in over a decade! 2024 is the year we feast!

#philon awards #spirk #star trek #spock #james t kirk #star trek fanart #star trek fanfic #the premise #k/s #fic recs #art recs #my fanfic recs #spirk fanfic recs

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littlelostmabari · 5 months

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Some Galemancing fluff for @sorceresssundries and @miradelletarot and @gale-force-storm who fill my dash so reliably with the delicious wizard.

Gale x f!Reader, post-epilogue. (Reader unnamed, referred to as she/her/wife) Word Count: 2.2k

Edit: Now on AO3!

The evening sun threatens to kiss the horizon across the bay of Waterdeep as you weave your fingers through the feathery fur of your favorite four-legged companion.

Well, the closest four-legged companion, you laugh to yourself as you hear a familiar roar from a floor above where Karlach and the owlbear were no doubt tussling in the arcane arena your darling wizard had installed in the upper levels of his newly conjured tower. She arrived from Avernus a few hours ago with some rage to burn, and Nugget was always willing to practice new ways to defend his nest. His home.

“Your hand is on the page, pet,” Tara purrs. Your thoughts are quickly brought back to the balcony and the sunset, your hand naturally moving back to the delicate fur on the top of Tara’s head. You run her fingers down the tressym’s neck and back, finally scratching the base of Tara’s tail — just as you know she likes it — before resting back on the bench. You’ve purposefully avoided Tara’s reading material this time. The apprentice Aribella rests on her stomach on the ground nearby, her legs kicking up into the air as she hems and haws over the bud that won’t quite open into bloom from her palm. The violent magic of nature's wrath had been easy for her to draw on after her experience with the druid totem, but under Gale’s tutelage she was slowly learning the calmer patterns of the Weave. She focuses intently on her latest homework to druidcraft a flower crown for her constant canine companion.

Speaking of, Scratch had been noticeably absent from Aribella’s side. You feel a frown cross your face, and find your eyes drawn deeper into the dim light of the tower. The study had slowly gotten messier the longer you had lived there, an awesome wreck after only a few months (although Gale often commented that since there was a wide pathway through the mess, technically it wasn’t hoarding). Aribella devoured books the same way Tav imagined Gale did at her age. There were tomes lying on every surface: open, closed, dog-eared, bookmarked, stacked to the ceiling. No one but Gale and Aribella knew which projects were active and which had been discussed, debated, discarded.

The piano in the corner played a new tune, a soft baudy jingle that you had accidentally brought home from your most recent night out with Alfira and the other tiefling refugees from the Grove. No, not refugees, not anymore. They had found their homes in Baldur’s Gate, and you visited the Elfsong Tavern as often as you could — you knew all Alfira’s songs at this point but loved absorbing the joy from the room as she played... But the piano had a terrible habit of catching any tune hummed in its presence, a constant bittersweet reminder of the distance to your friends.

Not seeing a white furry tail wagging from this distance, you murmur an apology to Tara, who fluffs her feathers indignantly. She digs claws just the other side of painfully into your lap as if to dare you to get up. Knowing she will be just fine without you, you take in one hand your empty wine glass, then close your eyes and gently tug on your connection to the Weave. A misty step cruelly leaves Tara with only a conjured pillow for comfort. Tara would call it cruel, anyway, regardless of Gale’s gentle warming spell that forever permeated the pillow slip. The tressym narrows her eyes without leaving her most recent tome — her only other reaction reaching out with a back leg to scratch a spot behind her ear.

With a chuckle, you absentmindedly bring the glass to your lips, remembering at once that it was empty. To the kitchen then.

The noise is the first thing to reach you. It is uncommonly loud for your little tower (ignoring the more recent arcane stories), even considering its normal inhabitants. You had grown used to raucous laughter from your many adventures, but it had been too long since it echoed within these walls. You pause with one hand just barely touching the door into the parlor, smiling contently as a soft memory of bedrolls and looted wine and butter buns crosses the forefront of your memory.

“And then… and then…” you hear Wyll’s tenor deep into another story, laughing so hard he can’t find the words. “The kid asks me if I’ve ever bested an owlbear!” Another ringing laugh joins in, then, and you find yourself pushing the door open. Your eyes land first on your dearest, closest friend, currently desperately trying to pat down a growing wine spill on the ruffles of her white shirt. Shadowheart brushes hair and tears out of her eyes. “I’m sure you then told the poor lad that you fought back-to-back with an armored Nugget? Just to see the soul leave his eyes?”.

Wyll nods. “I did, I did! And the kid just stood there staring at me… and then he turned on his heel and left the tavern! Fool trying to out-match the Blade of Avernus!” The two dissolve into another fit of giggles, uninterrupted by your entrance into the parlor. The door swings shut behind you with a soft reverberation, and Shadowheart’s eyes brighten to meet yours. She points at her shirt and winks; you gently pluck at the Weave and the wine stain is gone, prestidigitated to wherever those lost memories go. You reach out for Shadowheart… before ducking the hug and stealing her wine glass. A hearty laugh follows you to the other side of the parlor as Shadowheart rises from her stool and chases after you with a sudden hug from behind. You feel the soft echo of magic between the two of you, knowledge of each other harmonizing. Wyll swings around the table to refill both glasses, a lingering kiss on your cheek on the way.

“I’m so glad you both made it,” you smile to two of your dearest friends. “I heard Karlach come in earlier, she’s still upstairs.”

Wyll nods. “We missed Mizora by this much,” he sighs, bringing his pointer finger and thumb to a centimeter apart before looking up and out to the entrance to the upper floors. “She’ll be alright come dinnertime.”

“And who exactly are we having for dinner tonight?” a smirking voice sings from the end of the room as the door to the bustling outside world closes with a sharp click. His arrival had been expected… arrived last night in fact, with business in Waterdeep important enough to go out cloaked rather than waiting for the sun to set.

“Depends, Astarion, would you prefer the red wine or the white? I’m sure Gale could make some recommendations,” Shadowheart snorts. Laughter meets the wrinkle of Astarion’s nose as he removes his deep purple enchanted cloak to hang at the side. There are still too few outer layers missing from the coat closet --- friends yet to arrive for the celebration.

As if summoned by the hungry rumble of your belly — and knowing your husband, it probably was — a platter of cheese, cured meats, and pickled bits and bobs appeared within arms reach. Shadowheart and Wyll lunge in competition for first taste, and you decide you'd prefer your first bite directly from the source.

The kitchen is only across the hall, a single sip of wine away. Laughter fades gently into the clink of dishware and the soft hum of another song you had brought home from the Gate. This one was a moving tune in three-four time, and the soft pat of house shoes suggested the kitchen's occupant was floating about his dinner prep with perfect rhythm.

You push the door open gently, mindful of its creak so as to not disrupt one of your favorite sights in this tower. His hands are in his hair, again, pulling another traitorous lock back from where it had escaped from the bun he sports when he is at his most focused. You had left him to his work this afternoon, as he had requested, which meant no one had been around to tell him which spots of gray were his natural coloring and which were simply dashes of flour. The chorus of the waltz rises, his hands back at his hips as he surveys another recipe written carefully by his mother into a book that was so lovingly used you'd insisted on rebinding last year for his nameday. He balances on the balls of his feet, prepared to move the moment he knows what comes next.

Time slows around you as you watch him slide between dishes, one stirred with mage hand, another whipped by an unseen servant. He tastes each, seasons one, and spins through a crescendo in the source-less music, intent on the oven. It is in this turn that he spies you leaning against the wall with the door closed softly behind you.

If the kitchen had been completely frozen over, his smile would have melted it all away in an instant.

“My love!”

You can feel the effort it takes for him to drag his eyes away from you, but a short ring from the oven indicates something desperately needs his attention more than you.

He pulls a kitchen towel from the ether and wrestles the roast from the oven under his own power. His mother insists that this particular recipe out of all of those tucked away in her book must be done with mortal, mundane hands. When it is safely secured on the trivet (quickly set in place by an unseen servant), he brushes the day's mess from his palms and rushes to your side.

“As always you have the most impeccable timing, my darling.”

Gale has many different kisses, you have come to learn. Some, like those he left on your forehead and nose and lips this morning as he crawled from bed, ignoring your pleas to sleep in, were soft and kind and loving. Those kisses were reserved for sleepy minds and moments in between moments. Others, like those you anticipated would follow the last of your friends succumbing to slumber this evening, were deep and pressing. Those kisses begged for the barriers between two souls alight with desire to be sundered so that the two could become a single being of light and love.

And then there were the kisses like the one he pressed into you now. These were promises of tonight and tomorrow and the next day and next year and forever. These were the kisses that made you hope, that drove your soul to the gentle smile of one who loves and is loved in return. It was the kind of kiss that he had pulled you into when Shadowheart had called out to the temple “man and wife”.

One hand reaches down to your waist, pulling you away from the wall and into the warmth of his body. The other passes up to your jawline where his fingers press gently into the back of your neck. When he finally relents, a crooked grin alights across his face. He has evidently left something of dinner behind on your jaw, which he wipes away with a quick rub of his thumb, and with a soft breath he brings to your lips. The taste is sour and sweet, the tang of lemon and honey glaze —

“I believe that particular flavor is meant for the roast, my dear,” you murmur, pressing your tongue against the flat of his thumb.

“Ah, you would be correct. The time is long past that I attempt to improve upon a lover's perfection.” He leans in and presses more than casually into your core, his next murmurs meant for your ears only with how he nibbles gently on your neck. “Besides, I have other flavors in mind when it comes to complementing your particular essence…

“But!” He pushes away suddenly, and you have to catch yourself from falling into the space he leaves. “That discussion must be put on pause for the time that our long-awaited guests have found their lodgings and I am able to devote my full attention away from this feast.” His smile and the crinkles around his eyes betray his teasing — you both know you must leave him to work if your guests are to be fed anywhere near on time. He leans in only once more to press a kiss of the first kind onto the tip of your nose, and then rapidly shoves a basket of garlic and spring onion rolls into your unoccupied hand. “I am certain my beloved has many a song or story that can distract from her husband's deplorable time management.”

A sizzle of an over-boiled pot pulls his attention away. You linger just long enough to see that errant lock fall back into his face once more, before you turn toward the door and hallway that will allow your return to the gentle bubble of companionship.

You should enjoy the evening with your dearest friends, for Gale will be here tomorrow when they have left — some for Avernus, others for the Gate, and others back to lives hidden and quiet.

When they are gone, Gale will remain, and perhaps you will learn what his newest kisses taste like.

#bg3 #bg3 gale #bg3 fic #bg3 fanfiction #gale x female reader #gale fanfiction #gale fluff #gale dekarios #baldur's gate 3 #unnamed tav #I am too nervous to write smut but I have IDEAS #I just need to work up to it #I definitely didn't load BG3 just to get the screenshot no sir

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apomaro-mellow · 5 months

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Hot for Teacher(s) 9

Part 8 / AO3 Link

Eddie felt like he blacked out. One moment he was on stage, playing his heart out, the next, Steve was leading him by the hand back to his car. Eddie had come to the venue with one of his bandmates, instruments in the back. When they got to Steve’s car, the keys were put in his hand.

“Your place”, Steve said, going around to the passenger side.

Eddie nodded hurriedly and in a rush of movements, they were off. He worried for a split second about the state of his apartment but those thoughts were pushed out when he felt Steve’s hand on his thigh. In the close space of the car, Eddie could smell him so deeply. He took a deep breath.

“You looked great up there”, Steve said. “Have you been playing long?”

“Since I was a kid”, Eddie answered, wishing with all his might that they could get a red light just so he could look at Steve at least once. It had been only a few minutes but even that was too long. “My mom put a guitar in my hand and it was like…nothing was ever the same.”

“A natural.” Steve started to stroke his thigh.

They came to an apartment complex and Eddie led the way up to the third floor. They got to his place and he paused as he unlocked the door. He turned to Steve with a sheepish expression.

“Gimme just one minute.”

Steve rolled his eyes. “Eddie, I live with a child. A little untidiness isn’t going to turn me off.”

“I’d rather not welcome comparisons to a kid”, Eddie said.

“Fair enough. Go on, go and spruce it up before I see.”

Eddie thanked him and then went inside. Steve could hear movement from behind the door and after about a minute, Eddie opened it again. Steve took everything in and looked around. It had the makings of the usual bachelor pad, everything here was clearly Eddie’s. All meant for a single alpha. He smiled when he saw the teacher manuals, bookmarks sticking out from the lesson he’d left off at.

Part of him wanted to explore some more, see all the little pieces of Eddie that could be found. But then there was a warmth against his back and a nose at his neck. Eddie’s arms snaked around his waist.

“I’d love to give you the grand tour. Starting with the bedroom~”

“I bet you say that to all the groupies.”

“You’re the only one hot enough to make it this far”, Eddie said, turning Steve in his arms. “And you didn’t even have to throw me your panties.”

“Hmm, sounds to me like you don’t even want them tossed to you”, Steve teased. “And after all the trouble I went through…”

“‘Trouble’?”, Eddie perked at that.

“Lead the way.”

Eddie released Steve, holding his hand only to take him to his bedroom. Steve closed the door behind them and then pushed Eddie onto the bed. Eddie leaned back on his elbows to watch Steve make a show of removing his jacket and shirt. Then he unbuttoned his pants and Eddie saw a sneak peek of what was to come. Steve licked his lips as he watched the alpha’s eyes darken and the scent of arousal began to fill the room.

Steve took off everything else, leaving only the black thong. The darkness of the fabric meant that Eddie couldn’t see the wet patch between his legs. But the way his nostrils flared, he could probably smell it. Steve walked closer and Eddie sat up, his hands moving reverently like he wasn’t sure if he was allowed to touch.

Taking the initiative, Steve brought Eddie’s hands to his hips. Eddie licked his lips as his eyes traveled up and down the other man’s body, lingering on what must be a sopping wet cunt. He swallowed thickly.

“When was the last time someone ate you out baby?”

“Well-”, Steve was saved from answering by Eddie diving face first, mouthing at his crotch like a man starved. His knees buckled and one hand went to Eddie’s shoulder while the other went to the back of his head, cradling it there.

Eddie had been able to smell his wetness. Now he could actually feel and taste it. And it was so. Fucking. Good. He lifted one of Steve’s legs over his shoulders to spread him even more, still licking the fabric and sucking him through it. Eddie felt the leg by his ear tremble and he looked up. The purr that left his body, seeing Steve enraptured because of him, it must’ve traveled from his throat to his lips because Steve let out a purr of his own.

Steve felt Eddie pulled off and nearly let out a whine when he found himself on the bed. His legs must’ve been weaker than he’d thought if he was able to be moved like that. Eddie kissed him sweetly and then kissed down his neck, to his chest.

“How the hell do you still have so many clothes?”, Steve breathed out.

“Natural talent”, Eddie winked. But he was beginning to overheat, so he paused to started undressing himself. He moved just a tad slower when he realized Steve’s hand was between his legs, stroking himself.

“Careful Mr. Harrington. I might need to start charging you for the show.”

Steve snickered. “Please do not call me ‘Mr. Harrington’. Makes me think of my students.”

“Alright”, Eddie stripped off the last bit of clothing. “How’s about baby?” He kissed Steve’s ankle. “Or sweetheart?” He kissed his calf. “Angel face?” He gave one of Steve’s thighs a soft bite.

“Yes.”

Eddie peeled off the thong, duty completed and watched a string of slick try to stay attached. It was soaked from them both and Eddie was fighting the urge to stuff his face in it and he wondered how attached Steve was to this particular piece of underwear.

“I can tell you wanna lick it”, Steve said. “But wouldn’t you rather have the real thing?” He used his fingers to spread himself and a thick drop of pre cum dripped from Eddie’s cock.

Permission given, Eddie dove in, his hips rutting against the bed as he ate Steve out. It was so soft and warm, he felt like he could get lost in it. All Steve saw was a mop of dark curls between his legs but he could feel everything Eddie was doing and it made him see stars. He felt something else prod him and when he looked down, Eddie was gazing up at him, asking with his eyes while his lips were wrapped around his clit.

Steve nodded and then he felt a finger push inside. Eddie treated him gentle, which Steve appreciated. He’d done his best to prep for the night, knowing what he wanted. But the fact that Eddie was taking his time, was enjoying the scenic route. Whenever his mouth left his pussy it was to lick his thighs, to kiss his hips, even to nuzzle his bush like every part of him was worth savoring.

During all this, he spread Steve open, bringing him to the brink before pulling back. Steve wanted to be frustrated but he liked going the long way. No rush, no fuss. He was more than happy to cum on Eddie’s cock. If it was like this now…he could only imagine during a heat or a rut.

Steve was lost in the thought as Eddie pulled his fingers out and reached for a condom. Steve sat up a little and held a hand out.

“Let me.”

When Eddie handed it to him, Steve took his time too. He got up on his knees and scented Eddie’s neck. That aroma was no longer just safety when he was on the brink of rejection sickness. It was a deep fondness, a strong attraction, and the utmost trust. Steve licked his throat and collarbone while looking down and placing the condom onto him. Even just the feather light touches were almost too much for him and he sucked in a breath.

“You don’t know what you do to me, sweetness”, he said as he laid kisses on Steve’s shoulder.

Steve used his fingertip to play with Eddie’s tip. “I think I have an idea.”

Eddie pushed him back down and lined himself up. He waited for Steve’s nod and then began to push inside. Steve waited until he was fully inside and then wrapped both his arms and legs around him.

“Feels so good, you’re so deep, fuck.”

Eddie growled in his ear as he started to move. Steve smelled so delicious. Eddie’s nose was pressed into his neck, fighting the urge to bite, to claim him, to make Steve his own. Steve wasn’t helping things by actually baring it to him, back arching as they pushed and pulled into each other. Everything about Steve was telling him to do it, to seal the deal.

Everything but Steve’s own words.

So Eddie stayed his teeth. But he was going to make sure that before the night was through that Steve would be carrying his scent home with him.

Steve was no nun, there had been partners after Billy, here and there, and of course, he had his own heats to deal with. But nothing could have prepared him for the way his orgasm crashed over him when Eddie thrusted just right. He scratched down his back (he’d apologize later) as his cunt squeezed down, trying to take his knot and milk it for everything.

He was still riding the wave when he felt that knot finally come inside and Eddie bit down on his shoulder as he came. For a few moments, all they did was breathe together. Eddie brushed the sweaty hairs away from Steve’s forehead and kissed it. Words lingered on his lips. Words that felt too heavy to say. So for now, he would let his body do the talking.

There was a split second where Eddie thought of everything the words might entail - changing his address, being a sudden parent to a six year old and all that it required, Steve learning about him and vice versa. It all sounded too good to be true. Definitely not the kind of pillow talk after having sex for the first time. So all he said was:

“Sorry. Didn’t mean to pop it in like that”, he said, moving them to their sides.

“It’s fine. Not like I’m going anywhere soon. Hope you weren’t expecting to kick me outta bed.”

“Honey, it’s all yours. I’ll give you the deed and everything.”

“Actually, did you know that until the 50’s there was something called ‘common scent law’ that-no wait, nevermind”, Steve covered his face with his hand.

Eddie knew that look. The ‘I had to learn something to teach my students and now I have an abundance of knowledge on this obscure subject’. He pushed a lock of Steve’s hair behind his ear and then kissed the hand that was hiding his face.

“We’re gonna be here a while, sweetness. Go ahead and tell me about now defunct laws.”

The way Steve melted, Eddie wished he could bottle it up and keep it forever.

Part 10 coming soon

Tags

@anne-bennett-cosplayer @aol19 @lololol-1234 @gregre369 @attic-cat-blog

@hippieg1rl420 @spectrum-spectre

#apo writes #stranger things #steddie #omegaverse #a/b/o

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jolapeno · 2 days

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I’m embarrassed to ask but so many fav’s are going there so how do you use ao3?

hello hello!

do not be embarrassed at all! and hopefully, i can try and help.

now, i wish to preface this by saying there's likely guides already on tumblr and i don't mean to be rehashings what they might already say/have shared, but I'm going to try and give a run down of things that might help. now, I've done this as if you're a reader, but if you're a writer and want help, pop back in!

I asked my good friend @toomanytookas for help with this one so I knew we was covering off a lot and she lovingly helped me with finding some additional resources to support my bits!

searching for your people

there are a few different search options available on AO3 to find the things you want. if you know the name of the user, you can use the search bar (as seen below).

or if you're after a certain pairing, you can use the search option.

you can then search from: works, bookmarks, tags or people.

i tend to use "works" but, others may have their own preferences. but i find this is the easiest way for me to find the things i'm after.

i don't tend to fill in every bit of info, but the ones i do are in 'work tags':

fandoms

relationships

additional tags

i might check 'single chapter' (in work info) if i just want to read a one shot, but most of the time i just see what spits up. for me, additional tags is what makes navigating AO3 so much easier because I can filter by a trope (friends to lovers, colleagues, second chances) or i can filter by a "mood" (smut, fluff etc.). when you've filled in your desired bits you can click search and then your results will show.

ANOTHER great way to search is if you already know the pairing you're after. so say you're reading a Francisco morales x reader and you want MORE of that, click that tag on a piece of work and a new search will show up of all the works with that pairing.

you then have a new filter choice on the right where you can 'exclude' tags or characters too.

there's also this guide i found from 2020!

there’s also this way of searching too! with an addition from @burntheedges

another cool resource on excluding too

2. supporting your people

so, you've found yourself a writer you adore, and you've read a piece of their work. if this is a one shot, you can:

drop a kudos (like a like, but you can only ever give it once)

leave a comment (even writing "love it" or an emoji makes a day)

bookmark (this is more for you if you loved it, you can bookmark things and they save to YOUR bookmarks and you can read again without searching for it - like a lil library)

now, say that piece is a multi-chap/collection, and you want to subscribe and be notified, you can 'subscribe' at the top of the fic

bookmarks do not notify you of a new chapter, but a subscribe will.

if you love the writer and want to know as soon as they drop anything, you can click their name, go to their profile and click 'subscribe' just under their name in the top right.

here’s a resource too!!

here’s a resource on why bookmarks/comments are cool

3. going back in time... the AO3 way

okay, we've all been there when you're engrossed in something and then life happens and you close a tab or your phone crashes (tumblr app, grr) and then the work is lost. on AO3, if you're logged in, you have a thing called 'my history' and in this is every work you've clicked on. wahay! this has saved me so often because i flick between phone and laptop a lot.

4. a final thing to be aware of...

warnings - a writer can choose to give a warning to the piece. many will use 'creator chose not to use archive warnings' or 'no archive warnings apply', but there are a few to keep an eye out for, such as:

graphics depiction of violence

major character death

rape/non-con

underage

'choose not to use warnings' is a read at your own risk, and i always recommend checking out the additional tags for the piece just so you know if there's any trigger warnings.

a resource on excluding (mentioned above too)

this is just a top level thought process of what i thought might help, but if there's any specific questions i will deffo try to help. this resource has a ton of helpful things too. there's also AO3 FAQs which might be able to help if i didn't actually help. and this absolutely brilliant guide created too!

thank you for the ask, and happy AO3'ing 🧡

#asked and answered #anon #jo: is not studying

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cacodaemonia · 1 month

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Waxer/Boil rec list

I'm just copying this from a post I made in the Waxer*Boil community about a month ago:

Here are some recs from my recent(ish) bookmarks on AO3. I've listed eight of them, so I'm putting them all under a cut:

"Far Into the Night" by @lizardberries, rated T, Force-sensitive clones and hurt/comfort!

Summary: Putting his hands on either side of Boil’s face, Waxer leans their foreheads together, closes his eyes, and opens their connection even more. The emptiness flows into him, and Waxer braces himself against it, calling out for Boil through their link as loudly as he dares.

Boil doesn’t answer.

---

"dropstone" by @theproblemwithstardust, rated T, huddling for warmth!

Summary: Boil is adjusting the wrap on his hiking pole when something hits his back with a soft fwump. He tenses, half expecting one of the planet’s large predators to break through the tree line. But instead of growling and heavy footfalls, there’s a quiet snicker and the telltale squeak of snowshoes.

Or, Waxer and Boil visit an ice planet

---

"Friends Don't Set You On Fire" by @elismor, rated T, Corrie!Waxer and Boil!

Summary: Five times the massifs brought Corrie Waxer and Boil together (and one they did not)

---

Everything Sings" by @aerjnn, rated M, meet-cute!

Summary: Boil lets himself into the room where a clone—not Wooley—is passed out fully clothed in Wooley’s bed and snoring like a ronto. This’ll be the sharpshooter's roommate, he guesses. Must’ve come back with the first wave. Boil sighs, tosses his jacket on the narrow bed, and heads back out onto the third floor landing. Leaning out over the little balcony to the courtyard, he breathes in deeply, filling his lungs with air that’s still warm in spite of the rain earlier. And still filled with possibility.

---

"'Til the Sky Falls Down on Us" by @lizardberries, rated M, mission fic with a love confession!

Summary: This is a terrible time for this—they’re both cold and hurt and miserable, they’re fairly certain no rescue is coming for them, and they could be discovered by the enemy at any time. But when Boil thinks of the few moments after the grenade blast when Waxer wasn’t moving, when he couldn’t tell yet whether Waxer still had a pulse, it suddenly feels incredibly important—he doesn’t want to go out with anything unsaid between them. He doesn’t want to die without letting Waxer know how much he means to him.

---

"Table Manners" by @petrifiedforests, rated T, vampires!

Summary: “Ah,” Waxer says, startled. “Uh hi! Are you Boil?” Boil nods and kind of awkwardly gestures to his comm. “If you have a bit, you signed up for, you know…” “Ohhhh, snack time. You’re hungry?” Waxer realizes, grinning when he sees Boil’s instinctual grimace at his phrasing.

---

"Horticulture" by @valkeakuulas, rated E, tentacle smut!

Summary: Despite this having been his idea, Boil couldn’t help but feel a little nervous as he stared at the large, slowly swaying plant.

---

"Three Long Summers Went By" by @bilbosmom-belladonna, rated G, flashbacks to the war and post-war happy ending!

Summary: At the table, Waxer was hovering over a pile of small tooka dolls. As Boil approached he picked one up and held it out. “Look at this!” he cried as he shook the purple and yellow doll. “It looks just like it!”

“Just like what?” Boil asked, glancing warily at the vendor who was eyeing them suspiciously, their head-tendrils waving in a menacing cloud around their head.

“Numa’s toy!” Waxer replied excitedly. “The one she had at her house. She had to leave it behind when the gutkurrs found us.” He gave the doll a little squeeze and it squeaked, just like Numa’s had. Waxer locked eyes with Boil, his face eager. “We have to get it.”

Boil raised an eyebrow. “Why would we do that?”

---

Enjoy! :D

#waxer #boil #fic rec #tcw #waxer/boil #clone ship

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zarvasace · 7 months

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Fic Rec List

AO3 is holding a Feedback Fest for International Fanworks Day! So, in no particular order, here are 10 fics from my bookmarks that I recommend. :) Most of these fics are by stellar authors, but the list is for individual fics. I recommend checking out the authors as well.

EDIT: fandom code. LU = Linked Universe. FS = Four Swords

Dawn of the Fourth by @lazuliquetzal - (LU, complete) A fic that's on plenty of rec lists, I'm sure! The mastery of plot, character, and language itself is top-tier. This has a mystery-ish plot filled with twists and turns that hold up very very well on rereads! The tension remains taut the whole time, but it isn't too stressful. There are some particular images from this one that have stuck with me since I read it.

Threats and Theatrics by htruona - (LU, complete) This one makes me laugh. A lot. Vio is too dramatic for his own good, and I adore the idea that they might just keep fake blood on them for stuff like this.

A Guide to Living (Again) by @cerame (LU, complete) - Also one that I'm sure is not unfamiliar to a lot of people! It's no secret that I'm a big fan of Shadow, and it was so so much fun to see these other opposite-Links coming around, too. This is just overall a very good time.

Awake, Sweet Prince by @vagueandominousvibes - (FS, complete) There's a lot by Kahl I adore, she's an excellent writer with a wonderful handle on world and words, and this one in particular is one of my favorites. I love slightly spooky fae and this is definitely high on my list.

Count to Nine by @tess-aka-fishy (LU, complete) - One of my top fluff and humor fics. Everyone is in-character in the best way possible, being chaotic but not necessarily on purpose. It's awesome.

It's Dangerous to Go Alone by @hey-adora (FS, complete) - Among the many standout works by Sam, this one is an excellent one to recommend thanks to the showcase of her particular brand of humor, the fun, adventure-y plot, canon-extension worldbuilding, and of course the focus on Vio and Shadow being awful as always.

Keep Your Face to the Sun by Ageofavalon (LU, complete) - This one is a wonderful little fic with, surprise surprise, a focus on Shadow. This one just feels cozy, and I've reread it a lot. I particularly enjoy the way that they adopt him into the LU Chain :)

Take a Number, Any Number by @cluelessmoose (LU, complete) - An outstanding Four whump fic that recently got a very satisfying second chapter. It uses a lot of my favorite whump tropes. The imagery and particular use of words makes this a delight to read.

Soft Glows by @youmixxx (FS, incomplete) - Breaking my hesitant rule of "only complete fics allowed" to rec this fantastic Green/Blue modern college AU story. The attention to detail in this fic is unbelievable—and I mean detail in-text in descriptions and narrative, as well as behind-the-scenes details like consistent schedules. It's beautiful. Don't let the word count intimidate you because it flies by in a haze of glory.

Draw a Circle Around Your Grief by @lattewritesthings (LU, complete) - Dramatic, horrific, bitter, hurt-no-comfort—BUT in a way that doesn't leave you hanging on a thread. It's tragic but the resolution is satisfying anyway. The images are striking and the emotions are potent.

#fic rec #ifd2024

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thetickleeraven · 1 month

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Ticklish Tank

BG3 - Tav x Halsin x Astarion polycule

Summary: Tav is a strong, almost stoic leader and the tank of the party. Halsin, Tav, and Astarion are relaxing in a clearing in the forest when the two discover that Tav is ticklish. Tav is they/them, class and race unspecified but said to be a tank. [THIS IS A TICKLE FIC]

its literally been 11 months from my last fic and they may very well be my last tickle fic. idk we'll see how i feel. REMINDER THAT THIS BLOG WILL BE DELETED WITHIN THIS YEAR AND ALL MY FICS WILL BE ON AO3 FOREVER.

>>>BOOKMARK MY AO3 HERE<<<

---

The forest clearing is cool and quiet. In it stand three lovers: A druid, Halsin, admiring the beauty of nature at night; Astarion, a vampire basking in the moonlight; and Tav, a strong tank of a leader admiring the images of both their partners.

As Tav eyes the pale elf, Halsin approaches them from behind to wrap them in a hug.

The hug is a welcome surprise, as usual. However, not as usual, Halsin lays his hands on Tav's sides and notices them tense. He moves his hands down a bit and Tav begins squirming, cringes, and eventually jerks out of his hold with a smile giving away the reason.

Halsin is amused by Tav’s reaction. "Are you truly so sensitive that you couldn’t stand it?"

"What can’t they stand?" Astarion turns his attention to the two, curiosity piqued at the mention of their stoic leader presumably having some sort of weakness.

Tav's eyes widens knowing the last person who should know is Star.

"Our partner is just ticklish. That is all."

"Oh. That’s ‘all’ is it?" Astarion is suddenly predatory. Grinning like a wolf who happened on its prey. "I think we've just discovered our entertainment for the night."

"I-I'm not really ticklish." Tav curses inwardly for the stammer. "I'm just a little sensitive there, is all.

"Beloved, you and I both know that smile of yours gives it away. There is no need to be shy. Being ticklish is natural for you."

"No, I was smiling because you were hugging me, nothing more." They hold their hands up to defend theirself. They frustratingly couldn't wipe the smile off their face and a flurry of butterflies in their stomach, knowing what was probably coming.

"Oh, really now? is that why you're smiling still? With those pretty eyes of yours wide as saucers?" Astarion is stalking closer like an owlbear about to pounce.

Tav tries to suppress their smile as they slowly back away, and it almost works, until they see Astarion's fingers curl into claws. The knowledge that those swift thieving fingers would soon be prodding and poking all over Tav's (unfortunately) severely ticklish body was enough to swarm their belly with butterflies, almost tickling them from the inside out.

"I, myself, would love to hear you laugh. Throughout all our travels I don't think we've heard so much as a chuckle of you." Halsin muses.

"Yeah, you can keep dreaming." Tav turns to run, Astarion quick to follow. They dash through the clearing, Tav occasionally jumping over bushes or weaving through tress in order to get Astarion off their tail, though the elf is much too agile to be deterred that easily.. Halsin smiles, watching his lovers chase and play in the vast harmony of nature. It fills his heart, but he can't resist the thought of Tav laughing and beaming in the moonlight. With a wave of his hand, vines grow from the ground, tripping Tav in the middle of their chase, sending them flailing to the ground. Astarion leaps over the vines and skids to a stop, quickly dropping down to the ground and straddling their partner. Halsin quickly approaches the two, knowing the vampire, while capable, has no chance of holding down Tav on their own. He kneels next to the crown of Tav's head and wrestles their arms to the ground, holding them with his bear-like strength.

"This is ridiculous! I'm not even ticklish so this is a waste of time!" Tav protests, hoping somehow, against all odds, they can talk their way out of this.

"No amount of time spent touching your body is ever a waste of time." Halsin says.

"I must agree with our druid, darling. If you're not ticklish, well, you just get to enjoy having your lovers' hands all over you." Astarion raises his hands above Tav, fingers twitching as if they had a mind of their own just begging to make Tav squeal.

Tav feels their heart pumping and face heating up.

Their panic is interrupted by Halsin's low rumbling chuckle. "Red is a wonderful color on you, love."

"Oh, look. Our little pet is blushing, how disgustingly adorable."

"If you're just gonna compliment me, there's much more fun things we could be doing together." Tav tries to sound suave, hoping some flirtation and faux confidence could change their partners' minds to something else that doesn't involve them laughing their ass off.

"I agree. There is something fun we could be doing." Astarion smirks, a familiar flirty smirk that makes Tav think that maybe they've successfully deflected to that something else. Just as they're about to sigh in relief, Astarion's fingers dive towards their exposed ribs and start dancing and skittering across them, Tav's thin night shirt barely doing anything to dull the sensations.

Tav jolts violently and immediately chomps down on the inside of their cheek to keep from smiling or, gods forbid, giggling.

The scowl they planned to keep stays for about 2 seconds before morphing into a bright smile despite their best efforts.

Astarion has a look of unmatched glee at the strong reaction, knowing this is just the very beginning.

"Tav, it is alright to laugh. Don't fight your instincts. Just let it out." Halsin says with the fondest of smiles.

"It's like you don't know them at all. They're so focused on being a strong and great leader. They'd never give up so easily. Especially to something as silly and juvenile as tickling, am I correct?" Astarion says in that infuriatingly teasy tone only he can muster while his fingers continue to torment Tav's upper body.

"You are right, Astarion. They are notoriously stubborn."

"Remember how they said they weren't ticklish? So sure of theirself?"

"I do remember, yes." Halsin chuckles.

"Well..." Astarion coos in a sing-song voice as he puts more pressure in his pokes and prods. Tav's body instantly starts jerking and jolting side-to-side despite Tav trying to keep still and smooth their expression to nonchalance. However much they try, their eyes still crinkle, their smile still beam, their laugh lines still show.

"I suspect they might have been lying." Halsin raises an eyebrow with a radiant smile of his own as he gazes down at one of his loves.

"It's almost as if..." Astarion's fingers skitter up and down Tav's body, searching, hungry, for a good spot. "...they'll start laughing any second now."

Tav can't help it, when his fingers venture a little too high they let out a few very quick high-pitched giggles before chomping down on their lip.

The two ticklers expressions brighten victoriously.

"What's this? Is thiiiiiiis a good spot?" The vampire circles his index fingers around the hollows of Tav's armpits. Tav's eyes practically bug out of their skull and their frame begins shaking with barely contained laughter.

"I'd say so." Halsin says.

"Well then... I'd better not do this then!" Astarion, the evil EVIL bastard, begins scribbling his fingers across each armpit and poor poor Tav can't resist any longer. They explode into loud laughter interspersed with little fits of giggles before descending right back into helpless cackling. They yank on their arms and kick their feet, but nothing can stop those two.

Astarion grins a sadistic... yet somehow fond grin. Halsin's expression meanwhile melts into the sappiest and most endearing lovestruck look an elf could possibly muster.

"OHOHOHO MY GOHOHOHAHAHAHADS!" Tav fights hard, bucking, jerking, yanking, everything they can, but their partners didn't seem to care.

"What a lovely laugh you have there darling, though I could do with a lower volume." Astarion teases whilst his digits continue their mirthful torment.

"I have another idea." Halsin says with a smirk of his own.

"Oh, do tell." The rogue lifts his hands, mercifully giving Tav time to breathe.

"Y-You guys..." Tav takes a breath. "...are the worst."

"Careful what you say, darling. You might not like what comes next."

Tav bites their lip and resigns theirself to just catching their breath.

"Now, what was your idea?"

Halsin wordlessly waves his hand and lets the vines hold down Tav's wrists so he's handsfree.

"Oh hells, I can't take both of you." Tav whines.

"Oh, our poor leader, completely helpless. And they admit to not being able to take it? Now this is a side of you I could get used to."

Tav turns their face away, feeling it heat up again, though they're sure it was already red enough from the torture they just endured.

Halsin's form suddenly shifted and changed... he was using wildshape.

And the shape he chose?

The dire raven.

At first Tav didn't know where this was going. A bird? Why would a bird be the form to torture them?

"Oh, you are brilliant at this." Astarion giggles and reaches to the bird's wings who stretched them out for him. He then plucks...

Oh no.

The vampire now holds two long feathers, one in each hand.

Dread pools in Tav's gut along with another storm of butterflies.

Halsin shifts back to his elf form and lightly slides his fingertips across Tav's ribs. Tav can't hope to hold back, they're already broken. Tired helpless giggles spill from their mouth, causing both their tormentors to chuckle at the sight.

"You're a beautiful sight, indeed." Halsin continues gently sliding his fingers across Tav's body, lighting up their nerves like a cantrip.

"I wonder how you'll fare against these two little feathers? Surely the great Tav can take it, can't they?" The bastard slowly lowers the feathers... inching them closer to their underarms.

"No... no no noho nohoho-" Tav is positively giddy with anticipation, eyes glued to those damn things as they came closer... and closer...

"Tickle tickle, little pet." He begins fluttering the feathers agonizingly quick all across those two tickle spots.

Tav doesn't explode into laughter this time, rather bursts into a hysterical fit of unstoppable giggling. They shake, wiggle, and squirm as much as they can with a vampire straddling them and vines tight around their wrists.

"Gohohohods NOhohoho! Ihi- Ihihihi cahahahahan't!"

"Can't what, beautiful?"

Tav elects not to respond, instead succumbing to the giggle fit completely, almost sinking into the ground as they accept their mirthful fate.

It's almost relaxing. Despite the instinctive fighting their body does of its own accord, laughing uncontrollably is... soothing in some sort of way.

That is until Tav feels Halsin taking off their boots.

"NO! Nohoho no no NO! Hahahalsin Ihi swehehear on all Gohods in this realm ihihif you do thihihis Ihi wihihil kihihihick you!"

Astarion full on laughs at that, still not letting up on those godsdamned feathers. "Is this really all it takes? To get you to beg? To fall completely under our mercy?"

"I'll start soft. If you truly cannot take this, I think we'll know." Halsin laughs, knowing Tav has much more fight in them than what's being observed on this night.

All Halsin does is drag one fingertip from the heel to the toes.

"FUHUCK nohohohohahahaha! Hahahalsin!" Tav screeches, kicking as much as they can muster given the circumstances.

Astarion laughs hard, dropping the feathers to hold his stomach in sadistic cackling. "Yohohou're soho dead."

Halsin picks up one of the feathers and twirls it in his fingers. Tav had no idea the peaceful druid could be so cruel to his lover.

"Nohohoho-"

"Do it." Astarion snickers.

They truly were the metaphorical angel and devil on Halsin's shoulders. Torture Tav at their worst spot? Or let them go?

"Let's see if you can hold on a little more, then we'll let you go." Halsin says with a villainous smirk.

"Yes!"

"No!"

Devil it is.

All he does... all this elf does is start fluttering the feather over the arch of Tav's bare foot.

And in turn Tav begins thrashing uncontrollably, cackling and screeching helplessly. Tears of mirth are flying off their red hot face as its whipped from side to side and hiccups and wheezes litter their forceful laughs. The vines nearly snap from the tension. "STOHOHOHAHAHAP PLEHEHEHEASE!"

At that, the feather is dropped and Astarion, partially having been bucked off, is sitting on the grass to the side. After a few moments the vines are released and Tav curls into a ball, frantically rubbing the sensations on their soles away.

"Apologies, Tav. I believe... I believe I went too far." Halsin bows his head, regret evident.

"Oh, come off it. Sure it got a little extreme in the end but they were obviously enjoying it up until then." Astarion scoffs, though not without a sly smirk decorating his features.

"I... I was not-" Tav starts to object but is cut off with a quick fit of giggles as Astarion flutters his fingers just under their arm.

"Oh, you absolutely were. Don't even try to deny it."

Tav lays on their back, utterly exhausted. "...Was it that obvious?"

The two ticklers laugh.

"You could've made it clear in the beginning that it would make you uncomfortable. You know as well as we do that we would've listened."

"Plus those vines? With enough effort you could've snapped those before we brought out the feathers." Astarion snarks.

Tav shivers at the mention of those feathers. Gods they could practically still feel them.

Astarion snorts at their reaction.

"I believe we've disproved your lie." Halsin says smugly.

"Do it say it aloud, darling. You know we'd love to hear it."

Tav feels the return of those butterflies.

"Fine. I'm extremely ticklish. Happy?"

"Quite." Astarion pokes Tav's underarm, causing even more giggles. "I do hope you're aware this will become a regular occurrence now."

"I'd have to agree. This was most enjoyable... for everyone involved." Halsin nods.

"No more tonight." Tav yawns. "I'm more tired than when we fought that entire goblin camp in one day." They say groggily, eyes slowly falling.

Halsin chuckles and wildshapes into his bear form, laying on his side so his two lovers could lay on his warm furry body and fall asleep.

"Night night, Tav. Who knows what will await you come morning." Astarion sings.

Tav doesn't even respond, already out for the night.

And so the polycule slumbers for whatever awaits them tomorrow. (Probably more tickling)

#bg3 tickle fic #tickle fic #ticklish!tav #ler!astarion #ler!halsin #tickling #lee!tav #tav #halsin #astarion #bg3 #fic

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amhrosina · 2 years

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To Be Loved (Namor x f!Reader)

MASTERLIST // JOIN MY TAGLIST

A/N: I read a Druig fic with this concept like a year ago and it’s stuck with me since then. However, I’ve searched through an entire year’s worth of tumblr fics & ao3 bookmarks, and I still can’t find it. If you know who came up with this concept, PLEASE tag them or let me know! I would like to credit them for the idea! Also, I can’t stop writing Namor (and I won’t, I love that man so much).

Update: A very kind soul found the fic that inspired this one and sent me their @! It was @itsapeterthing who originally wrote this concept and you should definitely check the Druig fic out!

Summary: Reader is an Eternal (you don’t have to know the movie to understand the fic) who can time travel. We follow her as she visits her lover, Namor, in different stages of his life over a 500-year time period.

(Warnings: no big ones, some descriptions of war I guess?, soft!Namor, this is pure fluff like I somehow made myself fall more in love with him writing this??)

Translations:

in yakunaj – my love

pixan – my soul

ki'ichpanech – pretty girl

Namor was being watched, though he didn’t know it yet. As he stood on the outskirts of his mother’s homeland, holding his mother’s body in his arms, the beauty of her memories was tarnished, ripped to shreds by slavers with whips and hatred in their hearts. Namor was a boy of ten and two, barely old enough to grasp the responsibilities he’d inherited in his birth, but strong enough already to understand the gravity of the situation in front of him.

The hatred that burned in his heart mirrored the flames he’d set to his mother’s homelands, his homeland, which had become a falsity so grand that he could no longer contain the rage within him. It was a wound that wouldn’t heal, a festering cesspool of a memory that would play in his mind for years afterwards. This day would go down in his people’s history as the day the boy-king became a man.

From a young age, laying his mother to rest was something Namor knew he was going to have to do, but no amount of time could have prepared him for the overwhelming heartbreak he felt as he laid her down in her final resting place. He remained by her side, content to sit with her body for as long as he pleased, but he knew he would eventually have to return to Talokan.

All the while, an unfamiliar set of eyes peeked at him through the brush. You would not reveal yourself to him, not quite yet. This moment, as important as it was to Namor’s moral compass and the man he would grow to be, was not a moment you felt the need to share with him. You had travelled through time and space to be here, at present-day Namor’s request, and you would not interfere with this moment.

The young Namor, the one that was blissfully unaware of your presence, knelt down and whispered his last goodbyes to the woman who raised him. You remained in your kneeling position amongst the greenery, unwilling to move until you were sure Namor had gone. When the last of his people returned to the sea, you stood, shaking the ache from your knees.

You tapped into your power, the warm hum traveling through your body as you focused on returning to the present, to your home where Namor was likely waiting for you. It was only a snap of your fingers, a quick blink of your eyes, and suddenly you were in familiar territory again.

The walls around you were filled to the brim with Namor’s art, painted over the centuries. They told the story of him, showcasing different memories that he deemed important. The first one, the one you’d just returned from visiting, was a small painting of his mother, lying in her shallow grave.

“How was it, my love?” Namor’s voice carried from the above water chambers you shared, his voice so warm and deep that he might as well have been standing right next to you.

You peeked your head around the corner, spying his relaxed form in his favorite armchair. You had spent hours there, wrapped in his warm embrace. It was your favorite place to be, too.

You scurried forward, eager to take your designated spot in his lap. He wrapped his arms around you, pulling you into his protective hold. You looked down at him, placing a soft kiss on his brow before cupping his cheeks.

“It was informative, my King. I can see why you were so angry when we met.” You stroked his cheeks with your thumbs in an attempt to soothe the ache.

“I spent many years after that day consumed with vengeance. It was only when I met you that I learned I still had the capacity to love.”

“I’m sorry, my love, for the hurt humans have caused your people throughout the years.” You winced at the thought of Namor consumed by anything but love.

“Don’t apologize, in yakunaj. You will see the man I became to protect my people, and you will see me as my enemies saw me. I did not know mercy for a very long time, and I fear you will not like the man I thought I had to be.”

“I will always love you, K’uk’ulkan. Nothing,” you gripped his jaw for emphasis, “will ever change that.”

Namor gripped your hand, pressing his lips into your knuckles. “I am undeserving of it, but I will accept it anyways, pixan. I am greedy like that.”

He smiled, and your heart warmed at the sight. At one point, it had been decades since a smile had graced his beautiful face, so you always cherished the smiles he sent you, even if you got to see it all the time now.

“Where am I going next?” You asked, glancing at the wall of art.

“To our favorite place to hide away, before it was ours.” He nodded to a small, somewhat hidden section of the wall that had always been one of your favorites. You grinned in response.

Namor looked over the landscape in front of him, a little envious of the humans that got to see it every day. The view his hiding spot offered was a spectacular array of gold and red, surrounded by lakes and rivers, and if he didn’t have a million things waiting for him back at home, he might want to appreciate it more. The sea was his home, but he couldn’t help the desire to explore the surface every once in a while.

Home. The empire he had built with his bare hands. Hidden from the world, protected from human interference. Namor was proud of his people and what they had achieved, but he had spent so many years fueled by anger that he feared he may have forgotten the beauty of living along the way. He was lonely, and he could not let this weakness lead his people into their graves. This hiding place was a respite from all of that, but the loneliness tended to follow him here.

A sharp buzzing interrupted his thoughts, and he swung around, ready to defend himself. A being, no – a woman, stepped into the clearing. Namor studied her. A human? No. He could feel the power drumming in her veins, and he tried to make sense of her human-looking face. A threat? Maybe.

You raised your hands in an innocent gesture. “I’m not here to hurt you.”

Namor couldn’t stop the chuckle from leaving his throat. No one, no one, could hurt him.

“Who are you?” He pointed his spear at your heart, ready to drive it deep in your chest at the slightest movement.

You murmured your name. “We’ve met before.”

“I think I would remember meeting you.” His brow furrowed.

“Not yet, I mean. It won’t happen for another few centuries.”

Namor’s confusion grew, and you reached towards your sleeve, rolling it up a few inches. The bracelet Namor had given you was tied around your wrist, and you held it up for his inspection. He balked. That was his mother’s bracelet, and he knew for a fact that it was tucked away in a safe space, miles under the sea.

“You gave it to me a few years ago. You sent me here, K’uk’ulkan, many years in the future. It’s hard to explain.” You scratched the back of your neck. “The paintings on your cavern walls tell a story, and he, you, wanted me to experience them with him, er, you. Is this making any sense?”

Namor eyed you carefully but lowered his spear.

“I feel your power, deep in here,” he gestured to his chest, “but I do not understand it. It’s different from mine.”

You smiled and lifted your hand, allowing a tiny sliver of your power to form into a ball in your palm. A stark yellow lit the clearing. The orb pulsed with power, and Namor took a step forward. Present-day Namor was also enamored with the way your power manifested and loved watching you create different shapes with it in your palm.

Namor stepped closer, watching the orb float in the space above your hand.

“How?” He asked, flicking his gaze up at you.

“You will understand it, one day, in yakunaj.” You fell into your natural pattern with him, even though the man standing in front of you was centuries away from the man you knew and loved.

Namor startled at your ability to speak his language so easily, and then inhaled sharply when he realized what you had just called him. He knew he should’ve been hightailing it home by now. This display of power could mean trouble for his people, and it was his duty to protect them, but the gentle caress of your power in his chest rooted him to the spot. His curiosity always did get the best of him.

“You speak my language?” He asked in his mother tongue, too enthralled with you to worry about the rules he was breaking by doing so.

You nodded, watching as the power faded back into your hand. “I know many languages.”

“We are...together in your time?” He asked, looking over you again.

“Yes. We are bonded, though that probably doesn’t mean anything to you right now. It will, one day.” You paused. “I must return to my time.” You gestured towards the forest, even though you didn’t technically have to move your body anywhere to jump forward in time.

“Will I see you again? Before we officially meet?” He asked, taking a step closer to you.

“Would you like to see me again?” You returned, tilting your head curiously.

“Yes.” Namor said bluntly.

“Then you will see me again, in yakunaj.”

In a flash, you were gone, and Namor spent a long moment staring at the spot you had been standing in moments before. He wondered how long he would have to wait to see you again and hoped it wouldn’t be too long of a wait.

Namor waited decades for you, searching for you in every face he came across. His cousin and closest confidante, Namora, didn’t miss the excitement buzzing under his skin every time he had to leave for the surface. He finally told her of your existence after years of holding the secret close to his heart. She was cautious, warning him of the surface dweller’s wrongdoings, but he couldn’t think of you in the same way that he thought of them. You were different, gentler, and he spent the vast majority of his free time thinking about you.

The night that you finally reappeared was a night of celebration for his people. It was Winter Solstice – the one night of the year that his people freely travelled between the sea and the sand. It was always a huge party, but he had spent the majority of it stewing in his longing for you. He had almost convinced himself you were a dream of his when you appeared.

You stood towards the back of the crowd, looking up at the stars. Namor’s heart thundered in his chest as he approached you, unsure of what to say to the person he had spent the last 80 years of his life longing to see. Fortunately, you spoke first, and he wondered if it was possible to fall in love with someone after only meeting them once.

“There are so many stars here. The doesn't look like this anymore, where I’m from. The surface dwellers have many flaws, and I think that is probably their worst transgression.”

Namor said the only thing that he could think of in response.

“I missed you.”

You smiled bashfully, turning to look at him for the first time in 80 years.

“I know. Thank you for being patient, in yakunaj. I go where he sends me, and there is always a good reason for it.”

“Is he...like me? I mean, are we the same, or do you see us as different people?”

“That is a hard question. You are the same Namor I know, but you are also different. At your core, though, you are the same man that I love in my time.”

You looked back at the sky, shifting your body to stand next to his. A somber expression formed on your face, and he couldn’t help but brush the back of his hand against yours.

“What is it, ki'ichpanech?”

“I want you to enjoy this night, in yakunaj, because you will not have another one this easy for a very long time.”

A cold chill ran down Namor’s spine. The conviction in which you spoke left little room for denial, and he could not ignore the uneasy feeling building in his stomach.

“What do you mean?” He finally asked, breathing deeply.

“I mean,” you paused, linking your pinky in his, “he chose this moment for me to visit for a reason. I cannot tell you details, because even I do not know them, but you will have to face an unimaginable threat, and it will be very hard for you. I will not return until after the carnage, and I want you to enjoy tonight, because you will have a hard time enjoying anything for many years afterwards.”

He looked out into the sea, processing your warning. He wasn’t aware of any threats to his people, but the pleading look in your eyes told him he would soon face horrors, maybe outright war.

“How long will it be before I see you again?” He asked, taking your hand in his and lightly squeezing it.

“Do not worry about such trivial things, in yakunaj. Everything will right itself in time.”

Your tone left no room for argument, not that Namor would want to argue with you anyways. You tugged him further away from the crowd, turning to face him after the darkness had blanketed you from the light of the party. You rested your palms on his cheeks, pulling his forehead down and pressing it against yours.

“Be strong, my King. You will be pushed beyond what you believe your strength to be, but do not let that break you. You are a force to be reckoned with, and you will do anything to protect your people. Remember your strength, and above all, remember that there is love in your heart, even if you cannot feel it yet.”

You pushed your lips against his in a chaste motion. It was over before it had even begun, and when Namor opened his eyes, you were gone. Namor clutched his chest, attempting to remember the feeling of your body against his.

Your warning rang true a few days later, when the borders of Talokan were breached for the first time in its history. The water surrounding the city remained a misty red for months afterward.

Namor pushed his spear deeper into the chest of the enemy King, finally ending the slaughter that had plagued him and his people for many years. The jungle around him rang with a silence so sickening that he fell to his knees. He hung his head low, exhausted from the fight. You had been right about everything, and the only thing that had kept him fighting for this moment of triumph was the speech you’d given him all those years ago.

The guilt of his warrior’s deaths weighed heavily on his shoulders. It didn’t seem fair, that he would continue living after so many of his people had to mourn the loss of their family members. Their family members, who had died fighting his fight. The weight was almost too much to bear, and he was suddenly glad that he was alone.

His people did not deserve to see his pity-party. He slammed his fists into the ground, letting out a brutish grunt. It was over, but his mind was still reeling. The sound of your soft footsteps brought him out of his rage.

“You shouldn’t be here.” His voice was hoarse as he pleaded with you not to see him like this.

“I am here, all the same.” You waved your hand in a nonchalant motion, lowering your body into a kneeling position in front of him.

He couldn’t look at you. The awfulness of what he had done, of the person he had to become to defeat this threat was so far beneath you, and he couldn’t imagine anyone loving the broken man he had become. Tears threatened to spill from his eyes, and he squeezed them shut to stop them from falling.

“You should go.” He pleaded with you, shaking his head at the thought of you being so close to the gory battlefield he had just fought on.

“I will not leave you, in yakunaj, just as you would not leave me if our positions were switched.”

You reached forward, gently wrapping your hands around his wrists. The steady drum of your power grounded his thoughts for a moment, and he prayed to the universe that your touch wouldn’t leave him. He didn’t move for what felt like hours, cherishing the warmth in his chest at having you so close to him after so long.

“I cannot stand being apart from you like this.” He mumbled, head still hung low.

“It is not for much longer, my King. One day, not so far in the future, we will be together.”

“How much longer must I live with this torment of longing I feel when you’re gone?”

You cupped his cheeks, swiping at the dirt and grime that coated his face with your thumbs.

“Soon, my love. I promise.”

You walked with him as he made his way back to the sea, the urge within him to return home too strong to deny any longer. There weren’t many words spoken between the two of you, but words didn’t seem necessary. You were here, and you were a gentle reminder that his future was bright, and that’s all that mattered to him at the moment.

When Namor stepped onto the beach, the bobbing heads of Namora and Attuma a few hundred yards out at sea caught his eye. They would return to Talokan with the news that their King had come out triumphant, and that the war was officially over.

You watched as their heads dipped below the surface before facing him.

“I have been gone for too long. I must go.” Namor’s grip on your hands tightened, unwilling to let you go so soon.

“Stay. Please stay.”

You smiled warmly, bringing his knuckles to your lips. “I cannot, in yakunaj. I must return to the present. But I will leave you with a gift, so that you don’t forget me while I’m gone.”

“I could never forget you, ki'ichpanech. Even if you don’t return for 1,000 years, I will still remember you.”

You smiled, pulling your hands out of his. You cupped your palms together, tapping into your power until the yellow orb appeared, floating between the two of you.

“Take this with you. It will shine brightly in Talokan. Bring your people the sun, K’uk’ulkan, after the dark times this war has brought with it.” You pushed the orb into his hands, releasing the speck of power from your being.

Namor gasped, shaking his head. “I cannot do that. This is yours.” He tried to push it back into your chest, but you wouldn’t accept it.

“It will be mine again, one day, in yakunaj. Until then, let it guide your people. Let it guide your heart.”

Namor looked at you, wide eyed. The orb floated around his body, refusing to move further than a few inches from his skin.

“I do not know what to say, ki'ichpanech, other than that I am undeserving of this gift.”

“You will take it anyway,” you say, patting the area of his chest near his heart. Your hand lingered on his skin, and he could not stop himself from crashing his lips into yours. You smiled into the kiss, wrapping your arms around his neck. He held you tightly against his body, arms wrapped fully around your waist in a tight embrace.

You pulled away, gently cradling his face. “Stay safe, my King. I will see you soon.”

Namor stumbled forward in your sudden absence, and he couldn’t help the frustrated grunt he let out. Soon had better be soon, or he’d start scouring the Earth for signs of you.

Namor had not expected to see you so soon. It had only been a few years since your last encounter, and after the enormous stints of time between your previous meetings, he had not expected you for another few decades. An enormous eruption from the sea had beckoned him far from Talokan, the furthest he’d been from his home in years.

Something was different this time. Unlike your previous appearances, where you’d appeared seemingly out of thin air, this time you were accompanied by a small group of people. Your hair was disheveled, and it looked like you and the people around you had been fighting something, something huge.

He rushed onto the beach towards you. If there was a threat to you, he’d eliminate it faster than you could blink. It wasn’t so much a choice, but more of an instinct. He stumbled forward when he felt the full brunt of power between you and your friends.

Oh. They were like you.

Your friends stiffened when they noticed him, but your smile was the only thing he could focus on as he made his way towards you. This felt different because it was different. You weren’t here from your present. This was the present, and he was about to officially meet you. He was suddenly glad you hadn’t told him the details of your first meeting because he hadn’t had time to grow anxious about it.

You met him halfway across the beach, jumping into his arms when you got close enough to reach him. He pulled you into a hug, wondering if he could get away with never letting go of you again.

“I would say it’s nice to meet you, but we’ve met before, ki'ichpanech.” He mumbled into your ear.

“Yes, we have.” You let out a light laugh, planting a kiss on his cheek.

Namor’s brow furrowed as he tried to figure out how this version of you could know who he was, or how you would know about your previous meetings since they technically hadn’t happened yet. He shook his head. The thought of it gave him a headache, and he wasn’t going to try and figure that one out on his own.

“You are here to stay, right?” He asked, hopeful.

“Yes, in yakunaj, I’m here to stay.”

Namor kissed you sweetly, arms still wrapped around you. He wouldn’t be letting go of you for a while, and you seemed perfectly okay with that.

When you stumbled back into the present for the final time, Namor was stretched out in the bed you shared with him. It was late, much later than you had intended on being, and you opened your mouth to explain your absence before realizing that Namor would remember the encounter with you, and likely already understood why you had been gone for so long. You crawled into the bed next to him, pressing a kiss into his bare shoulder before cuddling into his side.

“Now you have seen me at my worst.” Namor’s voice was a hushed whisper against the late hour.

“I love you, even at your worst, in yakunaj.” You responded in an equally hushed tone.

He pulled you closer, angling his body so that he could wrap you into a hug, and you shuttered against him. He was always so warm, and never once complained about how cold your skin was.

“You are my greatest inspiration, ki'ichpanech. You are my strength and my love. My people are very lucky to have you as their queen. I cannot express the love I have for you in here.” He tapped his chest, resting his head on the top of yours.

“You are an unbelievable sap, Namor.” You chuckled, nuzzling your face into his chest. “I love you even more for it, though.”

End Note: I really really love how this came out. I hope you enjoyed it! Either way, thank you for reading!

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