#(if anyone sees this no spoilers please i have not yet completed the game thank you! <3)< /div> Explore tagged Tumblr posts

[yrlocalghost]

dutch red dead is very much a dad guy because he just decides on a whim without consulting everyone else that we are going on a tropical vacation No Matter What. and also he is guilty of “being really weird right now”

[nerdallwritey]

Worth the Peril

Summary: In another life, Astarion would have made a decent barbarian. Despite Karlach’s cheerful demeanor, for the most part, barbarians were known to be violent, brutal, and cruel. All things that Astarion could easily tap into if the situation called for it. And right now, he was entering a rage. OR Upon arriving in the Underdark, you go down in a battle, leaving Astarion to pick up the pieces.

Pairing: Astarion x f!reader Rating: 18+ (no smut) Word count: 15.1k CW: reader gets hurt - violence, severe injury, blood, descriptions of wound, depictions of pain, hurt/comfort, angst with a happy ending, protective Astarion, blind with rage Astarion, soft Astarion, reader is an idiot (and a bard), so is Astarion (not a bard, just an idiot), everyone else sees what Astarion can't Spoilers: Minor spoilers for Act 1 (in-game dialogue, plot points, etc.) Also posted to: AO3 FAIR WARNING: This is PART 5 in my series, "Beauty and the Bard." Find the masterlist here.

a/n: SHE'S HERE!! I am SO excited to be finally be posting the newest chapter of Beauty and the Bard! Thank you so much for your patience as I was sorting this one out. I've always been a huge fan of the hurt/comfort trope and the "Person A gets hurt and Person B loses it" trope, so this is my take on both of those tropes in one! Did I fudge the numbers of the Duergar fight in the Underdark from Act One? Yes. Did I fudge the numbers in terms of injury severity and what's actually possible through magical healing? Also yes! But in a world where a skeleton will bring you back from the dead for $200, OR, simply sleeping a full eight hours will heal you completely, I think I was able to make it make sense. Hopefully. Apologies to anyone working in the medical field who knows I'm a sham. But this is a series about smooching a vampire, so we gotta suspend our disbelief somewhere! There's no smut in this chapter, and for that, I apologize, but it'll make sense why it doesn't. If it helps, my beta says that this is her favorite chapter to date! Woo! Please enjoy. (Thank you to my beta @kermitwazowski for reading! - Also! She just got married! And a tiktok from it went viral! We love her, she's the best.) As a reminder, last time, you and Astarion had a little romp in the river while watching the sunrise.

Taglist: Moved to the comment section, since tumblr hates sharing fun with friends - please let me know if you'd like to be added to the list!

Barring a few dirty looks from Shadowheart and Lae’zel, your return to camp with Astarion - both of you now vaguely damp - was largely ignored in favor of packing up camp in preparation for venturing into the Underdark. So long as you were both there to help with the pack up efforts, it didn’t really matter where the two of you had spent your morning. 

Astarion squeezed your hand fondly before sauntering over to his tent to loiter and drag his feet until the camp was mostly all packed away. You knew his game; look busy without actually lifting a finger until it was absolutely necessary. You rolled your eyes before bending to gather and organize the loot in your tent. He was so annoying.

Gods, you hated him.

And you loved him.

Why, of all people, did you have to fall in love with the emotionally stunted, incredibly dramatic, freak weirdo vampire? Wyll was perfectly nice! Shadowheart had a good head on her shoulders! And yet…

Your eyes flicked over to his tent momentarily. 

He wasn’t even trying. He was fully looking at his nails. He looked up briefly and met your eye. He smirked before moving his hand to wave at you delicately with his fingertips. 

“Pack,” you called to him from across camp.

“What?” He cupped a hand to his ear as if he couldn’t hear you from the relatively short distance away. “You’ll have to speak up, darling! Or, better yet-”

He left his tent and made his way over to yours.

“Oooh, no,” you scolded and pointed towards his tent. “Get back over there and pack, you jackass.”

“Ouch, love,” Astarion squatted beside you. He looked around your tent at the trinkets you’d accumulated and picked one up, rotating it in his hands. A tiny statue of a mermaid, her face sculpted in midsong. “Heavy little bugger,” he said, testing its weight in his hands.

“It’s made of iron, I think,” you said. 

“And you’re going to make us lug it into the Underdark? Rather selfish of you, don’t you think?”

You snatched the figure out of his hands. “Can I help you with something, Astarion?”

He spread out his legs and leaned back against a chest you kept close-by. “Not particularly.” He rested his arms behind his head, very clearly trying to flex his arms to keep your attention on him.

You laughed and pushed him, making him fall sideways. “Stop trying to distract me and go pack your own stuff up. I will not help you when you’re inevitably scrambling later.”

“Yes, you will,” he said, using your shoulder to help himself stand up. He squeezed it once before heading back in the direction of his tent. 

“No, I won’t!” you called after him, but he turned and cupped his hand to his ear again, pretending he couldn’t hear you. You groaned loudly and continued packing. 

“Hate to say it, Soldier,” said Karlach, whose tent was set up between yours and Astarion’s, “but you probably will help him.”

You sighed heavily. “I know.”

~~~~~

It hadn’t been as bad as you thought.

You’d had the foresight to keep your belongings relatively close together, making use of the traveler’s chest you all shared. Once you’d gathered all your possessions and dismantled your tent, you placed everything you couldn’t carry on your person into the chest. Karlach had helped Halsin lift the trunk, full to the brim with everyone’s overflow, into an ox wagon that you all planned on taking with you to the ruined goblin camp and down into the Underdark below. Even Astarion had managed to gather most of his things before inevitably earning your help with a bat of his eyes.

It had taken maybe two hours total, but looking around the area that you had called home for the last few weeks, it was as if your party had never been there to begin with. It was a little sad to be leaving, but you were pleased with the progress you all had made and were ready to keep moving forward in order to get these damn worms out of your skulls.

The trek into the Underdark, meanwhile, was long and frustrating; Gale had to cast Feather Fall on half of your team, the ox cart, and Scratch and the Owlbear cub, while the other half of you used the deceptively long ladder down into the abandoned Selunite outpost below - much to Shadowheart’s dismay. 

Much to Astarion’s dismay, you’d actually stumbled upon a colony of Miconids after bumbling through a battle with a pair of minotaurs and looking for a place to rest. It was there that you spoke with the head of their colony, Sovereign Spaw, about eliminating a clan of Duergar dwarves threatening their population.

Which was how you now found yourself smugly walking beside Astarion as Gale and Shadowheart led the way towards the supposed Duergar hideout. The rest of your party had (begrudgingly, in the case of Lae’zel) agreed to help Halsin set up camp close to the Miconids and their beautiful glowing mushrooms, and had stayed behind.

“You must wipe that stupid expression off your face, darling,” Astarion rolled his eyes and crossed his arms. “Otherwise you might get stuck like that.”

“I told you they were real.” You waggled your eyebrows in victory.

“And their music was far less irritating than yours,” he teased. “So I suppose that was nice.”

“Bastard,” you muttered. “I’d love to play something with them when we get back.”

“You would.”

“Ass hat.”

“Loud mouth.”

“Would you two shut it?” Gale turned and quietly shouted. “We’re swiftly approaching the Duergar clan, according to Sovereign Spaw’s directions.”

“I still think we should have rested for the evening,” Astarion complained. “A specimen such as myself requires copious amounts of beauty sleep.”

You withheld a yawn, willing the vampire not to see it. You were still tired from your lack of sleep this morning, and your romp in the river. Not to mention the hike to get down here, and the minotaurs you’d already faced. You were able to get a short rest in at the colony, but you were definitely feeling it, and you didn’t want to worry your teammates. Plus you knew Astarion would never let you hear the end of it, given his protests about it earlier today.

“Enough, Astarion,” Shadowheart groaned. “You heard Spaw; the Duergar are a looming threat to their colony. We couldn’t risk a possible ambush in the night. Especially with all the refugees seeking shelter there.”

Astarion sighed. “And, I suppose I must admit, I like the sovereign’s approach. A little genocidal, but effective.”

“Yes, great, you’ll get your fill of blood, now would you hush!” Gale halted, causing the rest of you to stop, too. “Something’s wrong.”

You surveyed your surroundings. Wooden structures stood decaying all around, from bridges, to long forgotten buildings, and nets once used for ladders. It had probably been home to a village of people at one time.

“Looks abandoned,” you supplied.

Off in the distance you could make out a lake through some fog. Boats rocked gently against a worn looking dock, illuminated by purple crystals that populated the area. That must be the lake that Spaw had described. But wait… were those-? Lit torches?

You were about to take a step forward to investigate further, but Astarion held out an arm to block you. 

“I smell a trap,” he warned.

Suddenly an arrow shot past your ear and landed in a wooden post behind you.

“That’s quite a sense of smell you have,” Gale quipped, prepping a spell in his hands. “Think you could sniff out where that arrow came from?”

Your eyes frantically searched the area but couldn’t make anything out. 

“Duck!” Shadowheart shouted, as a flaming arrow seemed to appear out of thin air and hurdle towards your party. 

You hit the deck, lifting your head ever so slightly in the direction where the arrow came flying from. A figure appeared out of nowhere as you watched, taking a step to the side to hide behind a wall. That explained it.

“Our attackers are using an Invisibility spell,” you said quietly. “If we can get them to attack us, we can break the spell and see them clearly before they have the chance to cast it again.”

“Sounds fairly dangerous,” Gale muttered, holding a hand to his chin in thought.

“Do you have any better ideas?” Shadowheart whispered, pulling her shield and morning star off of her back. 

“Not really,” Gale said after thinking for a moment. 

Astarion, meanwhile, had already unsheathed his daggers. “Let’s spill some blood.” A wicked grin graced his features. 

“Let’s think about this for a second,” you said, holding out an arm to block him from getting up and feeling him deflate. You peered around the large rock that you and your companions had ducked behind. Platforms were littered throughout the decrepit village, perfect for you all to spread out. Quietly, you removed your lute and your backpack. 

“Now’s not really the time to serenade us with a sappy love song, dearest,” Astarion said, his eyes on your loose lute that he’d recently gifted you. 

“Shut up, and take this,” you said, handing him a scroll of Misty Step that you pulled out of your bag. You handed one to Shadowheart as well. “Gale, how are you doing on magic?”

Gale flexed his hands, the purple of the Weave sparking at his fingertips. “Good enough to take out a few dwarves, I’d say. But I have my crossbow if necessary.”

You nodded and turned to Shadowheart. “You?”

She nodded back at you. “I should have enough for some healing if anyone needs it, but I’ll stick to cantrips if I can.”

You nodded again, thinking deeply. “Okay, our magic is running kind of low, so we have to be smart about this.”

Astarion cleared his throat. “Aren’t you going to ask me about my magic, darling?”

Shadowheart laughed humorlessly. “Oh, please. As if you won’t rely entirely on those knives of yours.”

He scoffed. “I’ll have you know, I’m also very skilled with a bow.”

You sighed. “I’m sorry we couldn’t rest more before we had to do this.”

“The life of a hero is not an easy one,” Gale pointed out. “One cannot always put their feet up by the hearth when lives are at stake.”

“Speak for yourself,” Astarion rolled his eyes. 

“What’s the plan?” Shadowheart asked you. “We might want to hurry, given they know our location and we don’t know theirs.”

“I was thinking we all cast Misty Step,” you turned back around to look over the boulder and pointed to the various empty structures, “and land on those platforms.”

“Ah, the high ground! Very logical,” Gale nodded in approval.

“But do we want to be out in the open? They’ll shoot at us and we won’t have any cover.” Shadowheart raised a good point.

“I’ll cause a distraction,” you said, “no worries.”

Astarion clicked his tongue. “I hate the sound of that.”

“What do you mean?! I’m great at distractions!”

Rather than responding, Astarion hummed skeptically. Then he leaned forward to kiss you sweetly. “I’m going to go kill some dwarves now.” With that, he unfurled the scroll, recited “inveniam viam,” and you watched as he disappeared and reappeared on a platform hidden in darkness. You lost sight of him as he vanished into the shadows and turned back to face Gale and Shadowheart.

“Be smart with your magic, and be safe.” Both of them nodded wordlessly at you and prepared to cast Misty Step. You picked up your lute and stood up straight. “See you on the other side,” you winked and started descending down a hill towards your hidden enemies. 

Strumming a quiet tune, you created a Minor Illusion around yourself to look like a traveling musician, rather than an armored spellcaster. You slung your lute back around onto your back. 

“Sorry!” you called, holding your hands up above your head as if in surrender. You spotted an armored dwarf on a wooden walkway up ahead, currently visible, and walked towards him. “So sorry!”

“What?” The dwarf looked surprised by your unarmed approach. “Gehk! Got someone sneaking up on us!”

“No!” you assured. “My band mates and I,” you pointed your thumb over your shoulder towards the area where you’d been spotted with your companions, “we got a little turned around. See, we thought there might be a secluded place down here to practice for our upcoming gig, and well, we didn’t know you were already here, and-”

“Too loud, sun-scum,” came a voice from above you. You looked up to see another Duergar on a platform overhead. He wore an amulet of the Absolute and had a large battle axe strapped to his back. “Could hear you and your mates stumbling. Can hear you blinking.” 

“That seems unlikely,” you muttered. Your eyes wandered around, pretending to look for more dwarves in the area, but really checking to make sure your companions were in position. 

“Noise gets you eaten down here,” the dwarf with the amulet went on. “Reckon I’ll hush you before something hungry comes along.” 

“You’d hurt an unarmed musician?” You held your hands up higher.

The dwarf above you barked out a laugh. “Nice try, bard.” He spat the word. “Saw you lot from a mile away. Your little disguise is pitiful.”

Something seemed off. You felt a chill run down your spine as something brushed against you. The illusion of your plain clothes fell away, revealing your armor. You had a feeling your invisible foes had you surrounded. 

“Now,” said the dwarf, “where are your little friends hiding?”

You laughed. “I was just going to ask! Why would you all surround me when my little friends are over there?” You nodded your head towards one of the platforms.

The dwarf’s eyes widened as he spotted Shadowheart, whose hands were poised with a Firebolt spell. “They’re up there!” Before the dwarf could point, an arrow pierced through his shoulder from behind, knocking him forward off the platform. You sidestepped his falling body and made eye contact with Astarion who smirked down at you. 

“Attack!” The first dwarf you spoke to shouted, and all hell broke loose. 

Light surrounded you as Shadowheart cast Bless, and you were able to out-maneuver the dwarf who’d yelled as the light momentarily blinded him. Arrows flew towards Astarion, who’d been the first to shoot, and with those arrows, multiple dwarves’ Invisibility spells broke. Astarion was able to easily dodge and avoid the onslaught of attacks, thanks to the advantage of being on higher ground. You grabbed your lute and cast Shatter, causing the dwarves around you to fly backwards in a wave of thunder. Gale launched fiery arrows at your foes, and Shadowheart summoned a Spiritual Weapon to fight for you all on the ground below.

“You’re here because of those rotflowers, aren’t you?” The dwarf with the Absolute pendant got to his feet and pulled the arrow out of his shoulder. “You reek of justice and good deeds.”

“Funny,” you said, using the pommel of your rapier to push a now visible dwarf off the platform you were on, “and I just took a bath this morning.”

“Would you classify that as a bath?” Astarion called down to you, mischief in his eyes.

You smiled, but could already feel yourself starting to lose steam, even though the battle had just started. Still, you pressed on and cast another Shatter, scattering your enemies further and buying you some time to catch your breath. “And what would you classify it as?”

“I can think of many things, but we’re in such polite company, I shan’t say.” He shot a flaming arrow down onto the beach and hit multiple dwarves at once in the explosion. 

“I don’t like whatever’s happening here,” the dwarf with the Absolute amulet said. “But I’ll make you pay for siding with those mushroom abominations.” The dwarf raised his hands and uttered a spell you didn't recognize, but a cacophony of noise from below caught your attention. The lapse in focus cost you, as one of the dwarves you’d been fending off pushed you off the platform.

You heard your companions yell your name as you landed hard in the sand below. It took you a second to regain your bearings before you realized what the sound had been. Fallen Duergar were now rising, life not returning to their eyes, but risen all the same.

Animate Dead. 

You’d heard of this spell; had seen it in action with Mayrina’s husband, Connor. But you had yet to see it used in battle. 

Now you were surrounded by undead dwarves, hell bent on tearing you apart. 

“Hi,” was all you could manage through the spinning of your head. You blinked a few times before blocking the heavy strike of an axe with your slim rapier. When it was clear that the axe was going to prevail, you rolled out of the way and the axe connected with the sand that had been beneath your head. 

“Are you alright?” Shadowheart called after hitting you with a Healing Word. 

You squared your shoulders and entered into a fighting stance. “Better now, thanks!” While it was true, you were still exhausted and could feel your magic actively getting weaker. You’d have to remind yourself to get a sturdier sword after this battle. You heard a clang as Shadowheart’s Spiritual Weapon was destroyed by a few zombies that now turned their attention on you.

“Hardly the place, darling,” Astarion called, downing one of the zombies in front of you with an arrow of ice. “Dying down here? Embarrassing.”

“Stop talking and help her kill the bloody things!” Gale yelled, still slinging spells and arrows at the dwarves from up on the platforms. 

The undead kept rushing at you, and you were able to keep them at bay with brandishes of your rapier and weaker casts of Thunderwave, but it was getting harder and harder to fight back. Meanwhile, living dwarves had made it to the other platforms and started climbing up to your companions. Astarion’s help began to dwindle as his attention was split between you and the dwarves he had to face head on with his daggers. You could hear less and less of Gale’s magic as he opted fully for his crossbow, especially now with dwarves attempting to climb up to him. Shadowheart was facing the same obstacles, instead swinging her morningstar and shoving her shield to throw dwarves from the platform. 

“Guys,” you said, not as loudly as you would have hoped. There was too much going on. Even if you did manage to raise your voice, it would be hard to hear you over the sounds of fire arrows and spells. 

“Guys,” you tried again but to no avail. You cast a small Cure Wounds on yourself, but instantly regretted it. You could have saved that spell for an offensive attack, and now you felt yourself completely depleted of magic, despite trying your best to use it sparingly. Which was difficult when you were surrounded by enemies and your companions were occupied with their own battles. You were just one person. This was too much.

The undead dwarves still standing were backing you up against a cluster of boulders in the center of the beach. 

This was okay. You were fine! You’d been in tough spots before and you and your team had always come out on top. You could do this. Undead dwarves? Pah! What kind of lethal damage could someone with dead muscle inflict, right? Sure, Astarion was undead and he was a vicious killer, but that was Astarion, and these dwarves had just been resurrected. They were just getting their sea legs! Life…. legs? It didn’t matter. They probably couldn’t even think for themselves. You could handle this.

With a boost of confidence from your mental pep talk, you surged forward, away from the center of the beach, and stabbed a zombie through the chest. The visceral sound of metal entering flesh was loud and oddly satisfying.

“Ah ha!” you shouted as the zombie slumped to the ground. 

But the stab had been louder than your slim blade should have been able to muster. You pulled the blade out of the slumped zombie to inspect, but upon looking down, you saw silver glinting with red through your midsection. 

Another zombie had come up behind you and cleaved you with his axe. The head of it peaked out through your stomach.

You heard your name roared from somewhere up above.

The metallic taste of your own blood rushed into your mouth as your vision started to blur. You fell to your knees.

“Guys,” you said one more time.

Then everything went black.

~~~~~

In another life, Astarion would have made a decent barbarian. 

Despite Karlach’s cheerful demeanor, for the most part, barbarians were known to be violent, brutal, and cruel. All things that Astarion could easily tap into if the situation called for it.

And right now, he was entering a rage.

Red. 

That was all he saw. 

Red, and the corpses of the dwarves who dared cross his path on his way down to you.

He hadn’t witnessed it.

Had been too caught up in his own hacking and slashing to see the moment when the axe had made its way through your torso. But he had smelled it. Instantly, he had recognized the sweet notes of your blood entering the air. That’s when he’d looked down and saw the state of you. He’d screamed your name, far louder than any of the magic and explosions that were still triggering in the fight. 

Shadowheart and Gale’s heads snapped down to look at you, terror in their eyes. And yet they still had to fight. The zombies surrounding your unconscious form began to move away from you and up towards them instead. 

Astarion downed dwarves left and right, going overboard in his violence on the warpath to get you into his arms. 

“Shadowheart!” he yelled, as if she wasn’t already aware of the situation.

“I know!” she shouted back. “I can try a Healing Word but my magic’s nearly spent!”

“Do it! NOW!” Astarion bellowed as he sliced through the abdomen of a dwarf preparing to fire a spell. He heard a chant of “te curo,” followed by the aqua magic that usually came with a healing spell, but you remained motionless in the sand. 

“The wound is too deep and my magic isn’t strong enough!” Shadowheart slung her morning star into the head of a Duergar that had successfully climbed up to her platform. 

Gale looked over to Shadowheart and the two shared a brief, silent conversation before Gale nodded and Misty Stepped down to you.

“Don’t you touch her, wizard!” Astarion yelled as he fought his way through what once must have been a house of some kind. “Unless you can bring her back up!” His daggers stabbed through the Duergar with the Absolute amulet; the one who’d raised those dead in the first place. Astarion made sure his death was extra painful with each twist of his knives.

“Be reasonable, Astarion!” Gale yelled back and shot an arrow at one of the zombies still slinking across the beach. He bent and attempted to get you to swallow some healing potion. You’d already lost a lot of blood.

“She’s DYING!” Astarion bellowed before jumping down, out of the house, and down onto the beach. He made a sound of pain as he landed, but stumbled as quickly as he could over to you on his hands and knees. 

Before he reached you, however, he spotted an unarmed zombie halfway up a ladder. That must have been the vile creature whose blade was still lodged in you. He made a beeline for the abomination and pulled it down with enough force to rip the rope that made up the ladder it was climbing. His blades were entering the zombie repeatedly before he even realized he’d pinned it to the ground. It stopped moving fairly soon after its first stab wound, but Astarion wouldn’t let up.

“It’s dead, Astarion!” Gale said, trying to bring him back to reality. “Truly dead!”

Astarion finally stopped and breathed heavily. He abandoned the corpse and made his way over to you, sinking to his knees.

“You’re okay,” he cooed. “Help is here.” He gently pulled you into his lap, careful not to touch the axe head. “I’ve got you.”

“She’s still alive,” Gale confirmed. “I gave her some healing potion and checked her pulse.”

Astarion wasn’t listening. He rocked back and forth, wiping matted hair out of your face. “Darling,” he said quietly, “you’re too pretty to die. And look at all the precious blood you’ve wasted.” You shifted a little and he paused. 

Your eyes opened briefly. When you realized it was Astarion looking down at you, you smiled. 

“Hi,” you said weakly.

Astarion laughed, but it was a choked, mangled thing. “Hello, my love.”

“That hurt,” you said, smiling blearily until your eyes closed again. He brought his forehead lightly to yours.

Gale touched his shoulder. “Take her to Halsin. He’ll be able to help more than any of us at the moment.”

Astarion wanted to argue, but knew that Gale was probably right. Annoying bastard. 

“Help me, would you?” He made to stand up and Gale moved to help guide you gently into Astrion’s arms as he stood. The axe rested uncomfortably between the two of you, but Astarion knew better than to try and pull it out without the proper healing implements nearby to stop the bleeding. 

“We’ll be fine here,” Gale said, shooting another arrow at a dwarf on his way to Shadowheart. “You cleared most of the sorry mongrels just now, anyway.”

“I don’t recall asking,” Astarion snapped, readjusting how he was holding you. 

“Only trying to help,” Gale said sharply. “None of us want to see her suffer.”

Astarion sighed. “I know,” he admitted.

Gale placed a hand on his shoulder again. “Proprae,” he said, and warm magic surrounded Astarion. “Longstrider,” Gale explained. “It’ll get you to Halsin faster. Now go.”

Astarion nodded and took off back towards the Myconid colony.

“You just had to play hero, didn’t you?” He didn’t look down at you as he sidestepped purple crystals and wayward wooden planks. “Couldn’t stay back for once and let someone else handle it.”

You coughed a little and peered up at him. “I do it for the glory,” you wheezed with a joking smile.

Astarion’s eyes flicked to you for a second. “There are better ways to get attention, darling.” He smiled despite himself. “Now stop talking, please. Save that strength.”

Rather than argue further, you closed your eyes again and nuzzled your face into his neck. You were so tired. And cold. Numbness had overtaken your body except for a dull ache in your midsection. You didn’t even realize when you slipped away again.

Astarion felt you go slightly more limp and swore, dodging exploding mushrooms and trying to remember the way back to the Myconids. 

“Don’t you dare leave me,” he growled. “Not now. Not you.” He refused to shed a tear. You’d be okay, and then he’d have words with you about your pesky bleeding heart. 

Speaking of bleeding, he didn’t like how easily he could smell your blood. Usually he’d be thrilled to be surrounded by such an intoxicating aroma, but right now it was making him sick to his stomach. 

“Do you know how selfish you are?” he asked, knowing you wouldn’t respond. “Wasting all this blood. Some of us need a proper meal.”

He hated your silence. Hated that you weren’t strong enough to tell him he could feed from you if he wanted because of course you would. Or maybe you’d come up with some sort of jab about him being selfish for thinking about food at a time like this. He missed your voice.

“How dare you scare me like this, you stubborn clod.” 

In the distance, he saw the glowing mushrooms of the colony. He ducked his head and willed himself to run even faster. 

“Where are they?!” Astarion shouted to a mushroom sentry at the entrance. The Myconid remained stoic, but flashed a somber song through Astarion’s mind. “Not helpful!” he shouted as he ran up the steps.

There! That halfling woman who’d asked you all to find her bumbling husband.

“You!” he yelled, his eyes wild. “The group I was traveling with! Where did they go?!”

The halfling woman fumbled for words, shocked at the bloody sight of you before her.

“Tell me!” he exclaimed.

“I believe they found a clearing not far off. The druid came by earlier to swap herbs.”

Astarion didn’t respond before booking it again, the Myconids singing a mournful ballad to him as he passed them. 

“HALSIN!” he screamed when he left through the other entrance of the colony. “WYLL! KARLACH! LAE’ZEL! YOU BLASTED WHELPS, WHERE ARE YOU?!” He kept running, following along a path of glowing mushrooms.

“Astarion?” It was Wyll.

“WHERE ARE YOU?!” Astarion repeated, recalibrating to run towards the sound of his voice.

“OVER HERE!” Karlach shouted, and Astarion saw Scratch appear from around a corner a short distance away, followed closely by Karlach. Wyll and Lae’zel caught up behind them.

“Dear gods,” Wyll murmured before running into camp and creating a space for you. 

“I’ll get Halsin!” Karlach turned and ran.

“Kaincha,” Lae’zel breathed as Astarion passed her.

“Lay her here,” Wyll said, having prepped a bedroll next to the fire.

“Like hells is she going on the bloody ground,” Astarion hissed, looking around for something more comfortable. “Grab my pillows,” he nodded from Wyll to the ox cart. 

Wyll nodded and ran to the cart before coming back and beginning to fashion a makeshift mattress. 

Lae’zel looked around for Gale and Shadowheart. “Where are the others?”

“Damned Duergars. They’re in a rotting village by the lake southwest of here.”

“I shall avenge our fallen,” she nodded before running to her tent, grabbing her greatsword and taking off in the direction Astarion had come in from. 

“She’s not dead yet,” Astarion muttered as Halsin and Karlach entered the space frantically. “There you are!” He addressed Halsin icily. He had yet to put you down. 

Halsin ignored Astarion in favor of approaching you and assessing the damage. He held multiple bowls and jars of unknown substances, and his face gave nothing away. “Bring her this way,” he said, motioning for Astarion to follow him. Halsin led him to a giant mushroom cap. “Lay her down here.” He set down the materials he was holding nearby.

“On a damn mushroom? You must be joking.” Astarion held you tighter.

“Astarion,” Halsin said gently, “I’m going to help her. You have to trust me.”

Astarion narrowed his eyes and reassessed the mushroom. It did look soft, and big enough for your whole body to spread out on. He looked at Halsin again who remained calm and collected. Astarion nodded.

Halsin nodded back and helped him untangle you from his arms. “We’re going to lay her on her side,” he instructed, and Astarion did his best to roll you gently onto the mushroom cap. 

“How can we help?” Wyll asked, making Astarion jump. He’d forgotten about anyone outside of his current line of sight. 

“Fetch my pack, if you would, Wyll,” Halsin said. 

Wyll nodded and ran towards Halsin’s tent on the other side of camp. 

“And me?” Karlach asked. 

“Can you heat up some water?”

“You got it,” she said before rushing to grab a bucket.

Halsin held out his hand, golden magic emitting from his palm. He closed his eyes and hovered his hand up and down your body.

“Well?” Astarion asked impatiently. 

Halsin opened his eyes and Astarion caught a flash of panic in them.

No.

“We need to get this axe out as soon as possible,” Halsin explained. “She’s going to lose more blood, but you were right to leave it in on the battlefield.”

It was then that Wyll came back, lugging Halsin’s backpack, along with other supplies he deemed might be useful.

“So get it out and heal her!” Astarion exclaimed.

“I’ll do my best, Astarion, but you’ll have to be patient.” 

“Where’s Withers?” Astarion looked around but caught no glimpse of the skeleton.

“He said he’d find us once we’re settled,” Wyll reminded him kindly. 

“If we lose her and he can’t bring her back, I’m ending him.” Astarion knew how unlikely it was that he’d be able to kill someone who brought people back from the dead for a living (why Withers needed a living in the first place was still a mystery), but he needed someone to threaten. He was terrified. 

“Astarion,” Halsin said, “I’ll need you to help me remove her clothes. Wyll, can you prepare some bandages?”

Wyll nodded and began to gather materials from Halsin’s bag. 

Astarion hesitated before unsheathing his daggers to help cut the leather armor off of your body. Halsin helped maneuver your limbs out of it until you were left in what once was a white shirt, now a deep red around your midsection.

“Her shirt as well,” Halsin said. “Your skill with a knife is far more refined than mine.”

Astarion frowned, knowing you’d probably hate being shirtless in front of everyone, but shook off the thought in favor of helping Halsin heal you. He quickly and carefully cut your shirt away from your body, depositing it on another mushroom nearby, and leaving you in nothing but your undergarments. The gash in your back was brutal, and rather than stare at it, Astarion took your hand. It was growing cold, but he could sense your blood still pumping beneath your skin. 

“She’s so weak,” he murmured. 

“She’s a fighter,” Halsin put a hand on Astarion’s shoulder before moving to mix some sort of elixir he had in one of the bowls he’d brought over. “My magic isn’t strong enough to heal her all by itself, not completely, but Oak Father willing, she’ll make it through this.”

“She better,” Astarion growled, still holding your hand, squeezing it harder than he knew he should. 

Halsin smiled faintly, then moved around to your head. He tipped your head back and made you swallow the contents of the bowl he’d just been mixing.

“And what-”

“That should keep her from waking up right away.” Halsin came back to stand behind you and examined the state of the axe.

“So, she won’t feel any pain?” Astarion asked.

“She shouldn’t.”

“Okay,” was all Astarion could manage to say, hoping that was enough to convey his gratitude to the druid.

Halsin nodded and motioned for Astarion to hold you in place. “Wyll, can you help with this?”

“Of course,” Wyll moved around the mushroom to hold you from the other side. 

“I’m going to remove the axe,” Halsin said. “She’s going to bleed more, but I should be able to stop it with what I’ve brought with me.”

“Enough talking,” Astarion held you tight. “Get to the healing part already!”

Halsin frowned, but nodded. “Steady now,” he said, placing his hands on the wooden handle of the axe. “Ready?”

“Yes!” Astarion snapped.

Halsin let out a calming breath before pulling on the axe. Everyone held their breath to make sure you didn’t cry out in pain. When you didn’t, Halsin continued, taking the blade out in one smooth motion. 

As he’d said, you began bleeding more profusely and Astarion let out a pathetic whining sound. Halsin immediately held out his hands, aqua healing magic surrounding you from both sides. Astarion couldn’t look away as your skin knit itself back together, a clear scar forming in its wake.

The aqua magic faded and Halsin instantly dipped his hand in some sort of salve and began rubbing it along your back. 

“Wyll,” Halsin said, handing him a bowl with an identical salve. “Please cover the wound on her stomach with this.”

“I’ll do it,” Astarion said, moving around the mushroom to your front. Wyll handed him the salve and he went to work spreading a generous amount along your stomach. 

“Sorry,” said Karlach, running up with a steaming bucket of water. “I was looking for where we packed all our towels.” She held up a few. “I found them.” 

“Thank you, Karlach,” Halsin said. “We can start cleaning the area around her wounds.”

Karlach bounced on her feet. “Um… I’ll incinerate her if I try to help with that.”

“I know what you can do,” Astarion said flatly, focusing deeply on globbing enough salve onto your stomach. He lifted his head and nodded towards the axe on the ground behind Halsin. “You can destroy that wretched blade.”

Karlach smiled and cracked her knuckles. “I’ll make it wish it was never fucking born.”

“Blades aren’t born, Karlach,” Wyll said, wiping blood away from your skin with the warm water she provided.

“And yet, this one will die a fiery death,” she smirked, flaring her flames menacingly. She took off, presumably to be as hot as she pleased without endangering others.

“Can one of you help me sit her upright?” Halsin addressed the two men still tending to you.

“Sure,” Astarion said, noticeably calmer now that you weren’t actively bleeding. “How are her, um… her innards?”

Halsin smiled. “If you’re referring to internal bleeding, the potion I gave her and the spell I cast should be enough to have stopped it. But she’s still very fragile. I’d imagine it will take her some time to fully recover.” He once again held out his hand and cast a golden spell from his palm like he had earlier. “Yes, the internal bleeding has stopped. Though I’d suggest not giving into any carnal desires until she’s completely healed.”

“Carnal- I don’t want to have sex with her like this!” Astarion looked offended. “Who do you take me for?”

Halsin chuckled. “I didn’t think you would, but it still needed to be said.”

“Of all the-” Astarion narrowed his eyes but didn’t finish the thought. “You needed help getting her upright?” 

“Yes, she’ll need to be bandaged up. It’s possible she’ll bleed again depending on her movements in her sleep and various other factors, but she’ll also need to keep reapplying fresh salves to prevent infection and minimize scarring.”

Astarion nodded as Wyll finished washing away most of the blood on your back. 

“Let’s lie her on her back first,” Halsin said. 

Astarion and Wyll helped to gently roll you onto your back, and Halsin helped sit you up straight. Astarion came up quickly to place a gentle hand on your chest and another on your back to keep you upright as Halsin began to wrap bandages around your torso. 

Though your head was tipped forward in your unconscious state, Astarion whispered encouragements in your ear that Halsin and Wyll politely pretended not to hear.

“You’re going to be okay, my love. Soon I’ll get to look into your pretty eyes again and hear your lovely voice. Everything is going to be okay.”

~~~~~

Everything is going to be okay.

How could that be true when you were drowning?

Surrounded by inky blackness. Floating through nothingness.

Your limbs were heavy. And more than anything, you were tired. So, so tired. 

You’d messed up. You’d allowed yourself to fight, even though you knew you weren’t at your best, just because you didn’t want your friends to be upset. Right? They had been people you cared about? And now the last thing you remembered was being curled into someone’s side as they ran, presumably, to find help. 

Idiot.

You were an idiot. 

The person had looked so scared. 

This was all your fault. You hated being the one to cause a problem. You had to be good. You had to do everything right so no one would have to worry about you.

The person who’d held you so close and protectively shouldn’t have to worry about you. 

Whoever they were. 

You vaguely remembered saying something to them, but you couldn’t recall what it was or why you’d said it. You faintly remember making them snicker, at least.

You’re doing so well, darling. Hang in there.

It didn’t feel like you were doing so well. And yet the words filled you with comfort. Somewhere, a thousand miles away, you felt someone squeezing your hand. 

We’re going to move you now, but we’ll be gentle.

That was very kind of them. You were having trouble moving through this darkness. 

Easy, now. 

Was it possible to swim towards the voice? It sounded like it might be within reach, even though mere moments ago it had seemed incredibly distant and far-off.

You’ll be much more comfortable here, my love.

Though your head was filled with fog, something in your gut told you to go to the voice. You knew it was familiar, but you couldn’t make the connection. With all the strength you could muster, you kicked your legs as hard as you could and pulled yourself along with your arms. 

Don’t worry, my sweet, I’m not going anywhere.

Thank you, you wanted to say, but you couldn’t quite grasp the words.

Try as you might to swim towards the voice, it remained just out of reach, a wall of pain shooting through your abdomen whenever you got too close. 

I’m here, you tried to tell the voice. I can’t reach you.

Sleep now.

It hurts.

I’ll be here when you’re ready. 

Please.

~~~~~

Your sleep was fitful. It had taken about an hour before you’d started thrashing unconsciously and moaning in pain.

“Something’s wrong,” Astarion called, emerging from your tent. 

He and the others had moved you onto the makeshift mattress Wyll had created, and built your tent around you, next to Astarion’s. Or what would be Astarion’s; he had yet to set up his space, having spent all his time at camp so far by your side. 

Shadowheart, Gale, and Lae’zel had arrived at camp about half an hour after Astarion had rushed in with your unconscious form, all three covered in generous amounts of blood and gore. They had immediately asked after the state of you and were pleased to see you bandaged and sleeping soundly.

Now, however, that wasn’t the case.

Halsin and Shadowheart were quick to check on you. 

Shadowheart felt your forehead and frowned. “She’s burning up.”

“Likely fighting a possible infection,” Halsin hypothesized.

“Well, can anything be done?!” Astarion asked, taking his place next to you again and holding your hand in both of his. 

Halsin watched him carefully. “Actually, your cooling touch may bring her some comfort, Astarion.” He looked to Shadowheart, who nodded slowly.

“She needs to cool down. I’ll fetch some cold water, but Halsin is correct. You may be exactly what she needs. But don’t let that go to your head.”

“Of course I’m exactly what she needs,” Astarion puffed his chest, “but it’s nice to hear that that’s true in more ways than one.”

Shadowheart rolled her eyes before leaving and muttering, “Why do I even bother?”

Astarion looked to Halsin. “She’ll be okay?”

Halsin smiled softly. “She’ll need water and nutrients to help fight the fever, but with you by her side, I presume she’ll be better in no time.”

“Right then, get out of here,” Astarion said, waving him away and looking slightly embarrassed. 

Halsin chuckled. “I’ll prepare some food for her.”

“Yes, go bother someone else with your sappiness.”

Halsin paused in the entrance of your tent. “Being vulnerable is not a weakness, Astarion. It’s quite clear how much you love her, and that’s incredibly-.”

“You need to leave,” Astarion snapped and dropped your hand, physically shooing a laughing Halsin out of your tent. “Be useful, why don’t you?” he called after him coolly as Halsin made his way over to where Gale was preparing tonight’s meal. The vampire closed the flaps of your tent firmly.

Love?

He shook his head. He was worried about you, yes, but that was because he… cared about you. More than he cared about anyone else at this freakish camp. And that was… fine. It was fine that he cared about you because you cared about him, too. And that was important because caring meant safety and protection.

Which is why he’d been so panicked about finding help for you! Obviously! If you weren’t around to protect him, who would? Not Gale, that’s for sure. No, Astarion was looking out for you for purely selfish reasons.

Right?

You made a tiny sound of discomfort and he was by your side instantly, holding his hand to your forehead, and then pressing both of his palms to your cheeks. He felt your body sag and watched the features of your face relax a little.

“There, now,” he cooed. “Doesn’t that feel better?”

He paused and narrowed his eyes in thought. 

That was troubling.

He refused to think any deeper on the subject. Instead, he undid all the straps and clasps of his armor, trying to be as quiet as possible as he removed it all, then placed it outside so it wouldn’t take up any of your space. Next, he rearranged some extra pillows that Wyll had brought by your tent to make a space where he could lie next to you. Once he’d done that, he removed his undershirt and laid next to you properly.

“Come here, my darling,” he said quietly, snuggling himself into your side. His body jolted reflexively at how hot your torso was, but quickly moved back into position and wrapped his arms around you as gently as he could. Your face scrunched in discomfort for a moment before settling into something akin to peace.

Astarion watched your chest rise and fall quietly, and let out a silent sigh of relief. One of his hands absently fiddled with the ends of your hair. You’d need a bath at some point. So would he, for that matter. You were both still covered in gore and filth, and some strands of your hair were bound together by enemy blood. Astarion didn’t much feel like licking it off of you or tasting their blood in any capacity, unless he could watch the life drain from their eyes as he drank them dry. But he’d hate every minute of it. He found your taste to be his favorite.

His favorite.

So, you were his favorite. Who cared! He knew it! Everyone at camp knew it! It didn’t need to be any deeper than that.

He exhaled through his nose. Being vulnerable was a weakness. Any of his siblings would tell you that. Show one shred of fragility towards anything and it would be torn away from you and exploited in any number of violent and cruel ways. He couldn’t let that happen to you.

“Can I come in?” Shadowheart’s voice was quiet, but loud enough to shake Astarion from his thoughts.

“Yes,” he answered.

She pulled back the flaps of the tent and paused, taking in the scene before her.

“I hope I’m not interrupting,” she said slowly, entering the tent with a bucket of water and a few clean cloths. 

“Not at all, I’m simply taking advantage of this furnace,” Astarion gestured up and down your body. “The Underdark gets so chilly at night. Who knew?”

“Uh huh,” Shadowheart nodded and felt your forehead before dipping a cloth into the water, wringing it out and placing it there. “You know,” she began, “and I hate saying this-”

“Do go on, then.”

“Ugh. I really hate saying this, but… she’s lucky to have you.”

“Shadowheart!” Astarion sounded quietly flabbergasted. “Do you mean it? Truly?” He was being overly dramatic and held a hand to his chest. 

Shadowheart avoided his gaze and dipped another cloth in the water. “I just mean…” She sighed. “I just mean, you make her happy, in your own annoying way. Even before you both started-”

“Holding hands?” Astarion batted his eyelashes.

Shadowheart rolled her eyes, but continued. “I don’t need to tell you how lucky you are to have her because I think you know that, but… You make her laugh. You encourage her to fight better, you steal lutes for her… And… you get her to be selfish. Which, while I don’t agree with all of your selfish suggestions, does cause her to think of herself every once in a while. Something that’s quite hard for her, as she so competently displayed for us today when she didn’t tell us how tired she truly was.” 

“She was a lost cause before I showed up.”

“Be serious for a moment, would you?” Shadowheart placed another cloth along your neck. “That’s something you both need to work on; being serious.” She held his gaze. “We almost lost her out there today. And I don’t think you’ve thought about what that would mean for you.”

“Of course I have,” Astarion snapped. 

Shadowheart raised her eyebrows. “Our Lady of Loss teaches that-”

“Oh, don’t start with that,” Astarion said sharply. “She’s fine now. Or she will be, assuming you and the druid are correct in your assessment of her condition.”

“Pain is a part of life, Astarion.”

“Don’t say that to me,” he snapped. “You know nothing of my pain.”

Shadowheart dabbed another cold cloth across your arm that wasn’t currently cradled into Astarion’s torso. “I know that. I didn’t mean it like that.”

“Then what did you mean?” He was aware that he was mildly flashing his fangs in warning.

She dabbed some cold water over your shoulders. “Don’t be afraid. That's all I mean.”

“And what the hells is that supposed to mean?” Astarion narrowed his eyes. “Afraid of what?”

“You care for her.” 

“So what?” 

“You’re aware of that?”

Astarion trilled his lips in disbelief. “Of course I’m aware of that.”

“Okay,” she turned her attention to wringing a cloth of excess water.

If his arms weren’t currently wrapped around you, Astarion would have pinched the bridge of his nose. “Shadowheart, if you’re trying to tell me something, just tell me.”

“You’re allowed to love her.”

Astarion felt himself recoil away from Shadowheart, but he still held onto you. 

Shadowheart nodded calmly, searching his eyes. “We all see it. You haven’t known each other for long, but she’s changing you.”

Astarion gave her a sour expression but didn’t say anything to argue.

“She’s not what you expected, is she?”

“She-” he hesitated. “She’s not.” He looked at your slumbering face fondly. 

“I don’t think she’s what any of us expected.”

Astarion nodded, quiet for a few moments. He was too tired to pretend he was uninterested. “It’s a wonder we all found her,” he brushed a stray hair from your face. “Or, rather, clung to her. And in some cases, attacked her. Or threatened to.”

“It is,” she laughed softly. 

“Poor girl.”

Shadowheart smiled. “She saved me, up on the Nautiloid. She and Lae’zel broke me out of my pod. Though it was mostly her. Actually, it was all her.”

“That’s typical.”

Shadowheart laughed. “Very typical.” She shifted to face Astarion more directly. “We don’t know each other very well.”

“No.”

“And probably never will.”

“Fingers crossed.”

“But I know that you’re not the same person who held a knife to her throat a few weeks ago.”

“I wouldn’t say that.”

“Well, I would.” Shadowheart gave him a piercing look. “A few weeks ago, you would have been fine letting her bleed out on that battlefield. You possibly would have laughed at the brutality of it. Or, you would have written it off as a fine dining experience. But the Astarion I’m looking at right now was ready to burn the entire world before he saw her suffer today.” 

Astarion’s grip on you tightened minutely.

Shadowheart sighed. “I don’t like letting others get too close to me either. Partly because that is the way of Lady Shar, and partly because I’m afraid of forgetting. Or remembering. I’m not sure which is worse, truthfully.”

“What does that-”

“It doesn’t matter. My point is, our leader here makes me want to remember. Remember our times together, her kindness… And how she makes me feel.” 

“Careful…” Astarion said slowly, narrowing his eyes but smiling slightly.

“She might be the only person I’ve ever considered to be a true friend. I think. But I know she’d do anything for any of us. And I want to remember that.”

“Okay, so commit it to memory?” Astarion was confused about all the talk of remembering. Surely Shadowheart’s memory wasn’t that bad.

“I’ll try,” she chuckled. Then, after a moment of quiet, she inhaled deeply. “All of this to say, Astarion,” she looked him in the eye again, “heartbreak is also a part of life. And while we’re lucky she’s still with us, you shouldn’t be afraid to love her. I think you want to live.”

~~~~~

Darkness.

All consuming and quiet.

But at least the pain had stopped. 

It was rather lonely here. Nothing to do and no one to talk to. Whenever you tried to move, the blackness that surrounded you gave little away as to whether you were actually moving or not. There’d been waves of extreme heat, bitter cold, and heavy nausea, and while none of that was particularly thrilling, it was nice to know that you could still feel something in this liminal space of sensory deprivation.

The voice would occasionally interrupt the profound silence to address you.

Come on, my sweet, eat just a little more. I know you can.

What are you dreaming about in there?

Are you going to wake up anytime soon, darling?

You didn’t know. No matter what you tried, it didn’t seem likely that you were close to leaving this place. And just when it felt like you were finally getting somewhere, the pain would overtake you again and stop you in your tracks. 

It was exhausting.

You felt someone squeeze your hand distantly.

Brought a book. 

Your head instinctively turned towards the voice.

Thought I might read to you. Since you’re doing an abhorrent job of entertaining me.

Something about the tone made you want to argue. You try… whatever this is! you wanted to say.

Thought this one might be fun. “The Curse of the Vampyre.” Maybe we’ll learn something.

Vampire… why did that word send your heart racing?

“Harken close and beware the Vampyr.” Off to a good start. “Beware its cold beauty.” True. “Beware its charm.” True. “Beware its curse.” ………True.  

Again, you had the overwhelming sensation that you knew this voice. The sense of comfort that washed over you felt all too familiar.

“How doth one protect from the beast?” When was this written? A pause, as if the voice were investigating. I’ve decided I don’t care. The voice cleared its throat. “Walk not in the blackest night, for the Vampyr loves these nights more than any other.” I was rather enjoying my time in the sun, actually. “If you must walk, do so by the light of our moon and take care.” What kind of advice is that? The moon? The moon and I get on just fine. That wouldn’t protect you, darling. “Carry the blessings and marks of your God at all times.” The voice snorted. Yes, because the Gods have cared so much about stopping my acts of debauchery in the past.

Something in the voice’s airy tone lifted an aching weight from your chest. Yes, you knew this person. You were sure of that. You could listen to them all day. Mindlessly, you drifted closer to where the voice was strongest.

“But remember, your home is your fortress, if protected well.” Hmm. “If you hear a knock in the night, be wary. Let no stranger into your home.” As if we make house calls these days. “If it be a friend, look upon them. Do you find them pallid and wan?” Rude. “See you any mark upon their neck?” Collars, darling. Though, I’ve found that most people don’t pay close enough attention anyway. Especially when you’re distracting them with- Well, you know. The voice exhaled loudly. “See you any dirt upon their clothes?” Yuck. “Unless their need is great, turn all away but the most trusted.” You trust me, don’t you, my dear?

Yes, you tried to say. Of course I trust you. 

The voice was growing louder. More clear.

Of course you do, the voice said, though you were sure it hadn’t heard you. Stupid. “And if the Beast finds a way into your home, flee.” I’d say that’s good advice, but unfortunately for you, you can’t really flee right now. And I don’t plan on leaving.

Good. You exhaled, frustrated that you couldn’t speak. 

The hand holding yours tightened mildly. 

I’m here, darling.

I know. Thank you.

It took a moment before the voice started speaking again.

“Lease love and family behind.” 

You felt an indescribable tension as the voice paused once more. Had this passage just said something important? You replayed the phrase in your head.

Family?

Love?

Love…

Oh.

The voice was quieter when it spoke again. 

“You will not save them if you fight. You will not see them again. But they will see you, pale and smiling, calling them into the night.”

Astarion. 

Of course it was Astarion. How could it be anyone else?

He was here. 

With you. 

Just out of reach.

Well, that’s a rather ominous passage, isn’t it?

Astarion! you tried to say. I’m here!

Shh shh shh, he tutted. Don’t strain yourself.

Something you had said or done had gotten through to him.

Astarion! you tried again.

Nothing. You were met with silence. 

Fuck it. Fuck the pain, fuck this freakish darkness. You pulled yourself towards his voice. 

Shall I continue reading, darling?

Yes, keep talking. You winced as a flash of pain pulsed through your middle.

I’m going to skip ahead. I hope you don’t mind.

As long as I can still hear your voice. The pain was becoming more consistent and noticeable.

Ah, this sounds rather interesting: “Vampiric Duality.” Ahem. “Now look, the thing is: your basic vampire has two instincts, right? Feed and make little vampires.” Immediately, a vastly different tone. Is this even the same book? The voice paused again, presumably to check the cover. I admit, I do love to feed, but I’m not sure how much this person knows about vampiric biology. Not that Cazador ever allowed us much research into the subject…

You felt yourself physically recoil at the mention of Cazador’s name and heard Astarion chuckle.

No, you’re right, darling, I won’t mention him again. He hummed and mumbled under his breath. Blah blah blah… “The personality of a vampire has as many facets as a schizophrenic diamond?” What? I appreciate the comparison to a diamond, obviously, but a schizophrenic one? What does that even mean?

You would have laughed if you weren’t actively fighting to get to him. The pain in your torso was almost unbearable, the closer you got to his voice. Tears pricked your eyes, and every part of you hurt like nothing you’d ever experienced before. When the torment started to become white hot and all consuming, you hit what felt like a physical wall.

Ah! Listen to this part, beautiful: “Yet who doesn't adore the darkly romantic complexity of the vampire-”

You did. You adored this vampire. Though you were hurting severely, you reached out and punched against the wall that was blocking you.

Astarion! you all but wailed.

“-the gusto of their love-”

Again, you pounded with all your might, screaming out in agony and rage as the pain physically held you back from reaching out and touching him. You still couldn’t see him, but you felt his presence. So, so close.

“-the wildness of their passion!” You heard him let out a delighted laugh. 

I’m here! you shouted, using both fists to bang against this wall of pure suffering. 

Oh, my dear, if you were awake, I’d shower you with the absolute wildness of my passion. You could practically hear his smirk. I’d demonstrate the gusto of my… well. My-

Gathering all the strength you had left, you wound back and threw your entire body against the wall. You squeezed your eyes tight as an overwhelmingly bright light spilled in and your ears began to ring.

You gasped for air, sitting up quickly, and immediately regretted it.

You heard your name said softly in disbelief and a book slamming shut.

“Ow…” you whined, clutching at your abdomen and feeling tears roll down your cheeks.

Before you could register what was happening, you felt cool palms on your cheeks and soft lips kissing all over your face. You blinked rapidly, trying to make sense of the situation. 

“I’m so mad at you,” Astarion said, still kissing your face, his voice filled with nothing but relief.

“What… happened?” you asked between hiccups of tears.

“Lie back down, precious,” he said, gently helping you back onto what seemed to be a pile of pillows and pulling a blanket over you. “You scared us, is what you did.” He wiped a few stray tears from your cheeks, but they kept flowing. You couldn’t stop. 

“Did I… die?” You turned your head to look around. It looked like you were in your tent, your things strewn about somewhat neatly and similar to how it had been at your camp by the lake. A few candles were lit. 

“Nearly,” Astarion confirmed quietly. He looked exhausted. “An undead Duergar got you with his battle axe.”

“Ah,” you said, at a loss for words. “That’s not good.”

Astarion stared at you. “‘That’s not good?’ That’s all you have to say?” He held a hand to your forehead briefly. “Your fever is gone, but it’s possible you’ve got brain damage.”

You chuckled, knowing he was kidding, but the action caused a searing pain in your stomach. You let out a pathetic whine, reaching for the hurt area, but Astarion caught your wrist. 

“Careful, darling. You’ve got a pretty severe wound there.” He released you and pulled back the blanket that was draped over you. Upon looking down, you saw that nearly your entire midsection was covered in bandages. A spot of red spread slowly, disrupting the otherwise pristine white of the cotton.

“It h-urts,” you sniffled, your voice breaking. 

Astarion’s eyes were full of sympathy. “Looks like sitting up quickly may have opened the wound again.”

“Should I go get Shadowheart?” you asked without really thinking about it.

Astarion snorted. “If you think you’re strong enough to fetch the cleric, you’re delusional.”

“Oh,” was all you could say in agreement. “Should you go get Shadowheart? Or Halsin, maybe?”

He shook his head, turning away from you to rifle through some supplies that were out of your line of sight. “Everyone’s asleep, my dear.” He sat back up straight and set out a few items next to you: fresh bandages, healing potions, a salve of some sort, and a small bowl of water. “Besides, I’m perfectly capable of taking care of you myself.”

You almost laughed. “How long was I out? What happened to you?”

He rolled his eyes. “You were out for nearly twelve hours, I’d say. It’s a little before dawn, I think. Though there’s no sun to go off of.”

You nodded, not sure how to feel about this information. Twelve hours was a long time. And yet it felt even longer. Like you’d been out for a lifetime. 

“As for what happened to me, well, someone I… care about… nearly died.” He cleared his throat. “Is it so bizarre that I want her to get better?”

You smiled. “I guess not.”

Astarion returned your smile before hooking his arms under yours and helping you sit up. Someone had stacked two chests on top of each other behind the makeshift mattress to act as a headboard, and he helped you scoot back to sit against it. 

“Careful, my sweet, the axe entered through your back. Let’s try not to lean and put pressure on it, hmm?”

You nodded, wincing when you moved incorrectly. “When did you become such a medical professional?”

He was busy prepping the new bandages. “Shadowheart showed me how to change the bandages once or twice while you were out, and Halsin provided the salves and potions.” Astarion got up onto his knees and crawled over to you, helping you scoot forward, away from the headboard. “And my sister, Dal. She was a doctor, before Cazador. She’d help the rest of us every once in a while. Especially when things got particularly brutal.”

“That’s much cooler than being a magistrate,” you teased, flinching a little in pain.

“I don’t know, magistrates can sentence people to death.” He squeezed your arm.

“No they can’t,” you laughed. Then paused. “Can they?”

Astarion shrugged. “Can’t remember, honestly.” He leaned forward to reach for where the bandage was tucked into itself on your front. “I’m going to undo this now, okay? Let me know if I hurt you at all.”

You nodded, holding his gaze.

“Oh,” he said before turning to grab a healing potion. He handed it to you. “This should help.”

You took it and downed it as Astarion began to carefully unwrap the bandages. You could feel the unpleasant sting of something having dried beneath the cloth that was now being tugged at as the bandage was unraveling. 

Astarion was nothing but complete focus as he reached his arms around you and back towards himself, carefully unwrapping you. You watched him the entire time. 

“I heard you, you know.”

He looked at you, the corner of his lips quirking up. “Heard me what?”

“When you were talking to me while I was sleeping.”

He went a little stiff at your words. “What exactly did you hear?”

You raised an eyebrow. “I don’t know. I heard you reading just now.”

His shoulders dropped in relief. “Horrid creatures, vampires.”

“The worst,” you agreed. 

Astarion pulled away the last of the bandage and you looked down, your eyes widening at the huge gash along the right side of your stomach. 

“And we’re sure I didn’t die?” you asked, cautiously poking the area around the wound. The healing potion had stopped the bleeding.

Astarion slapped your hand. “Stop that.”

“Sorry.”

“No, you’re still here with us. I would have killed Withers if that weren’t the case.”

“You can’t-”

“I know. But he would have gotten an earful at least.” Astarion crawled on his knees back over to the supply area that you previously couldn’t see. Now you could see that there were a few buckets of water with towels and cloths of various sizes. He dunked his hands into one of the buckets and lathered his hands with soap. 

“Thorough,” you commented.

“You already fought off one infection,” he explained. “Don’t want to risk another.” He finished washing and drying his hands, then made his way back over to you on his knees, careful not to touch anything on his way.

“I had an infection?” you asked, watching as he dipped a cloth in the small bowl of water next to you. 

“Yes,” he said, “or were fighting one off. Like I said earlier, you had a fever, but it’s gone now.” He brought the cloth up to your stomach. “I’m going to clean the wound now. It might hurt.”

You nodded and he began dabbing your skin lightly. He was right, it stung and pierced whenever he hit a particularly raw area and your body jerked despite attempting to stay still. Tears welled up in your eyes again.

“I’m sorry,” Astarion said, reaching up to wipe a tear away. 

“I’m the one who got cleaved,” you deflected. “It’s my own fault.”

“Which reminds me,” his face morphed from apologetic to irritated, “why didn’t you tell us you were so exhausted? Why didn’t you tell me?”

“I-” you squeaked at a particularly sharp pain. “I didn’t want you all to worry.”

Astarion’s hand paused and he narrowed his eyes at you. “Fine load of good that did, dear.”

“I’m sorry,” you looked away from him. “I didn’t know how involved the fight was going to be.”

“It doesn’t matter how involved the fight was or wasn’t going to be; if you weren’t feeling your best, you should have stayed behind and let one of the others take your place.” He sniffed pompously and added, “Would have given me an excuse to relax, too.” There was a sharpness to his words, but his actions remained careful and kind. You gave him a curious look and he rolled his eyes. “Oh, like I would go out and fight when I could laze about at camp for once.” He was suddenly very focused on not looking you in the eye.

You smiled. “You liiiiike me.”

“I’d have spent the entire time on the other side of camp.”

“Liar.” 

“The point is, darling, you have to listen to yourself and what you need. I do it all the time. For myself, I mean.”

“I know you do,” you chuckled. 

Astarion set down the wet cloth he was using and got a fresh one, before moving behind you to clean the wound on your back.“Why do you even care what we think?”

“Because you’re my friends, and I value your opinions?”

“No, I mean, why aren’t we allowed to be worried about you?”

“Oh,” you winced and flinched a bit at the cloth pressing against a tender spot on your back. “I don’t know. You all have your own problems to worry about. I shouldn’t be one of them.”

Astarion tsked. “I might be new to this whole ‘caring about someone else’ thing, but even I know how absurd that is.”

You tried to stay quiet, focusing on not moving to minimize the pricklings of pain shooting through your back. Yet despite your best effort, you still let out a few weak whimpers of discomfort.

Astarion sighed and moved away from you, back to the caché of supplies at the end of your bed. He came up with a steaming bowl of stew and reached across the bed to hand it to you.

“Careful,” he warned.

“How?” you asked.

“Halsin made soup. Gale knew a spell to keep it warm. This is the result.” He handed you a spoon. “We were able to get you to eat some while you were unconscious, but Shadowheart said you should eat properly whenever you woke up. I forgot until just now.”

“Thank you,” you said gratefully, shoveling some of the stew into your mouth. It was rich and heavy; full of meat and vegetables. Delicious.

Astarion took his place behind you again and went back to cleaning, but not before sighing dramatically. “Playing nursemaid is so far beneath me. I can’t believe you’re making me do this, you wretch.”

You swallowed some broth then said, “I offered to get Shadowheart.”

“Not a chance,” he growled in your ear, leaning around to kiss your cheek. “But if I ever have to do this again-”

“You’ll kill me?”

“Without a second thought, my sweet.”

“Mmhm,” you hummed through more food. “I think you’re enjoying this, honestly.”

“Seriously? When I could be out killing something? Or drinking from that gorgeous neck of yours? Or thoroughly ruining you? Nice try.”

“Are you hungry?” you asked, suddenly feeling very guilty for not thinking of him.

“This is what I mean, darling.” He sounded annoyed.

“What?”

“You are very weak at the moment. You lost quite a bit of blood from this wound, and you’re still offering to feed me.” 

“Because I want to help you! I have something you need and I lo-like you so much.” You caught yourself, but not very smoothly. 

Astarion raised an eyebrow. “Flattered as I am, I know that drinking from you right now could be fatal. And I think you know that, too.”

You shoveled some more stew into your mouth shamefully.

“That’s all I mean, pet.” Astarion set down the cloth he’d been using to clean your back and moved around so he could look you in the eye again. “You’re incredible. You always want to help others, which, while I don’t personally understand it, is seen as very admirable to some people. But it gets you into trouble, and I don’t think you care that it does.” He took your chin in his hand to make you look at him. “But I care now. And I don’t want this to happen again.”

“I can’t help it,” you said quietly. 

Astarion pouted mildly with genuine sympathy and kissed you chastely. “Try.” He pressed his forehead to yours.

“Okay,” you whispered.

“That’s my girl,” he smiled. “Besides,” his flamboyant cadence returned to make you laugh, “I already drained some poor beastie dry earlier while Shadowheart was changing your bandages.”

“Poor beastie.”

He kissed you again, more deeply this time. “It meant nothing to me,” he teased and you laughed. “It was purely for sustenance.” He nosed along your neck to his favorite feeding spot and kissed you there.

“I may never find forgiveness in my heart for this,” you teased back.

Astarion’s eyes went noticeably soft and a small smile tugged at his lips. His hands came up to your cheeks and he kissed you once more, tugging at your bottom lip with his front teeth. You matched his rhythm, moaning softly, and unconsciously rolling your hips, which made you cry out in pain.

“Bad idea,” you groaned, tilting your head away from Astarion’s eager kisses. 

He chuckled and rested his forehead on your temple. “You know, Halsin actually warned me not to ‘give in to any carnal desires’ until you were fully healed. I told him I wouldn’t.”

“And yet you did anyway?” you raised an eyebrow with a smile. “You selfish prick.”

Astarion tsked. “I’m not the needy one rolling my hips, now am I?”

“You bit my lip!”

“Call it… a vampiric sign of affection. Nothing more than that.”

You blew out an annoyed huff, causing a strand of hair in your face to fly upwards.

“I didn’t even draw blood,” Astarion said. “You should be thanking me.”

“Oh, thank you,” you rolled your eyes.

“But of course.”

“I so badly want to strangle you right now.”

Astarion growled from the back of his throat. “Oh, how I’ve missed you,” he said, kissing you again, despite your laughing protests.

“Would you please finish with this?” you asked, pushing him back and gesturing the undressed wound on your stomach. 

He groaned loudly. “If I must.”

“I can handle the front,” you said, nodding towards a bowl of salve, but not attempting to lean forward and grab it for fear of accidentally hurting yourself further.

Astarion hesitated in giving you the bowl, but quickly gave in. “Fine.”

“I’ll be careful,” you said.

He nodded once and took his own bowl of salve to spread on your back. 

The balm was cool and caused you to jump a little when it first made contact with your skin. Astarion paused his work to make sure you were alright. 

“I’m okay,” you assured. “Just cold.”

“You get used to it,” he smirked, globbing more cold substance onto your back.

Delicately, you took your own salve and began to apply a generous amount to your stomach. 

The two of you remained silent, locked in concentration as you administered the medicine to your wounds. It stung mildly, but the cooling effect it had became comforting soon enough. 

“So…” you broke the silence after you were satisfied with your work, “what did you do while I was… out?” 

Astarion exhaled through his nose and didn’t answer right away. “Oh, nothing special. A little of this, a little of that. My world doesn’t revolve around you, you know.”

“Sad,” you pouted, “because while I was unconscious, all I could hear was your voice.”

“Could you, now?” You could hear the grin in his voice. “I was all you could hear?”

“Mmhm,” you confirmed. “Which means you must have spent a lot of time by my side.” You risked a glance over your shoulder and saw Astarion’s hand hovering just above your back, frozen in place. 

He cleared his throat and continued to apply the salve. “And so what if I did?”

“Well, it’s just that there’s so much else you could have been doing,” you chuckled. “Like killing, or maiming, or drinking, or stabbing-”

You stopped talking when you felt his forehead press against your bare shoulder. He mumbled something against your skin, but you couldn’t make it out.

“What was that, my love?”

He sighed heavily and pulled back. “I was scared.”

“You… were scared? You?”

“Of course I was scared!” he exclaimed, looking irritated and confused. “I may already be dead, but it’s not your time yet. I would never wish that on you.”

You weren’t sure how to process that. 

Astarion.

Scared, on your behalf.

You knew he cared about you, that was obvious by now, he’d told you as much, but that was a fairly recent development. In the past, he’d only cared enough to save his own skin. He’d always watched your back, sure, but there were days where you knew he’d only helped you or another companion because it had been convenient for him in some way. Although, you had to admit, since you two had become… whatever you were, he’d seemed to take extra precaution when looking out for you. Both in battle and out.

“Astarion,” you said slowly when he returned from behind you to grab the fresh bandages, “what happened when the zombies got me?”

He remained quiet, fiddling with the bandages in his hands. 

“I carried you here.”

“Where is ‘here,’ exactly?” you asked.

He shrugged. “Not too far from those horrid singing mushrooms. They were no help.”

Your eyes went wide, knowing how far the journey from the Myconid colony to the decrepit village was, and how he must have traveled further than that to get here. You shook your head, banishing the thought. “How did you get to me from your platform?”

Astarion came close and unwound the bandages in his hands again, making sure he had the right amount. “I may or may not have… gone into a blind rage, killed some dwarves, yelled at Gale… It was no big deal.”

“And then you… carried me.”

“Yes.”

“All the way here.”

“Yes.”

“And then?”

“And then I helped Halsin with healing you. Why does it matter?”

“You…” You trailed off and allowed Astarion to start wrapping the bandages around your middle. Your eyes were unfocused on something in the distance and your mind was blank; too overwhelmed with thoughts to think anything at all. You shook your head to bring yourself back into the moment with him.

His voice was quiet. “I’ve been powerless far too often in my life. Seeing you go down, and not being able to stop it, it… broke something in me.”

You watched him carefully.

“If I was powerless in that situation, and you… If I’d lost you, I don’t know what I would have done.”

“It’s a good thing you didn’t lose me then,” you said, attempting to lift the mood while focusing on his hands.

He shook his head and paused with the wrapping. “Shadowheart said I was ready to burn the world. I think she was right.”

“I’m touched,” you joked again.

“I’m serious, darling.” He picked up where he left off with the bandages.

“You were that worried about me? Even though you were also surrounded by enemies?”

“Oh, believe me, I’m not pleased about this turn of events. Normally, in a setting like that, I’d be mostly worried about myself. But lately I seem to somehow be worried about you more.” He hummed as if he were surprised to hear himself say that aloud. 

You brought a hand up to gently wrap around his forearm as he continued wrapping you up. He met your eye fondly.

“You give me something to care for. And that’s worth the peril.” He smiled at you for a moment, then pulled on the bandages to make sure they were tight enough. “Is this alright?”

Try as you might to not let him see, your eyes welled up with tears. “Fine, yes.”

“Oh gods, don’t lie, you’re crying!” He immediately began to loosen the bandages and you started laughing.

“No, no, dummy,” you wiped a tear and stopped his hands with your own. “I care about you, too.” 

“We’ve established that, darling,” but his eyes went soft. “Let me finish this, you sap,” he gestured to your bandages, still not properly secured, and you released his hands. He once again returned to wrapping the wound and pulled the bandages tighter, but not as tight as before. They were firm enough that they wouldn’t fall, and you could still breath easily, despite the mild ache that lingered in your stomach. He tucked the end into the top of the wrapping beneath your chest. “There now, my sweet. All patched up.” He brushed both hands through your hair before resting them gently on your shoulders.

You smiled at him, but something occurred to you upon hearing the affectionate nickname. “Is there a reason you haven’t called me ‘my love’ since I woke up?”

Astarion looked taken aback. “Erm…”

You were quick to explain: “It’s my favorite. That’s why I call you that, too.”

“Your favorite…” Astarion stared at you blankly for a second and his hands squeezed your shoulders absently.

You could practically see the cogs in his head turning. You brought a hand to cup his cheek. “If I did something-”

Astarion shook his head. “No, darling, you did nothing wrong. Other than almost getting yourself killed, I mean. It’s just that… I’m in the process of coming to terms with how I feel - about you.”

Oh.

Oh.

He’d thrown “love” and “my love” around so casually, practically the entire time you’d known him. Abruptly stopping their use was incredibly unlikely unless it was deliberate.

Did this mean he was starting to rethink those words? And what it meant to say them to you?

Did that mean he… loved you?

Your heart started pounding as a million jumbled thoughts entered your mind. It seemed like Astarion noticed the change in your pulse.

“If that scares you-”

“No!” You were grinning widely and tried to hide it behind your free hand. “Take all the time you need, my love.” You hoped calling him by your preferred pet name might convey how you felt, but you didn’t want to scare him off. You knew better than anyone how new this was to both of you.

“Thank you,” he said, taking your hand and kissing the inside of your wrist. “Now lie down, would you? You need more sleep.”

You handed him your now empty bowl of stew. “But… I’m not tired.”

Astarion gave you a look as if to say really?

“I’m not! I’ve been sleeping all day!”

“And for good reason, might I add.”

The two of you stared at each other, willing the other to give in. Astarion rolled his eyes.

“Fine,” he said, annoyed. He reached for the hem of his shirt and pulled it over his head.

“Carnal desires,” you reminded him in a scolding manner.

“I don’t plan on ravishing you right now, dearest,” he said, a bit of bite in his words. “If you’re not going to sleep, at least lie down with me.”

He moved the medical supplies off of the makeshift bed and blew out a few candles as he awaited your answer.

You nodded, a smile overtaking your features. “I’d like that.”

“I’ll be gentle,” he said as he got onto the pile of pillows and placed his knees on either side of your hips. He took your arms and wrapped them around his neck.

“I know,” you said, using him as an anchor to lower yourself onto your back and further into the pillows.

When he was satisfied with your position, Astarion carefully lifted himself from hovering above you and transitioned himself to curl into your side. You stayed on your back so as to not jostle your wound, but turned your head to look at him. He watched you intently, his hands palm-to-palm and resting under his cheek. You ran your hand through his hair. 

“I couldn’t reach you,” you said.

“When?” Astarion lifted his head slightly.

“When I was sleeping. I could hear you, but I couldn’t see you. And it hurt to try and get to you.”

“Oh, my darling,” he said, running a hand along your cheek. “I’m here now.”

“I know,” you repeated, warmth overtaking your chest.

“Nervous it’ll happen again if you sleep?” he asked. When you nodded, he nodded back in understanding. “Nightmares are dreadful.”

“Any tips?”

“Hmm… not really.”

“Thanks.”

Astarion laughed softly and reached for your hand. “I’ll stay awake with you for as long as you need.”

“You need your rest, too.”

He clicked his tongue. “If you think I’m going out with the others tomorrow, you’re a bigger fool than I thought.”

You exhaled an amused breath and turned your head back up towards the top of your tent to sort through some of your many tangled thoughts.

While it was true that you and Astarion hadn’t known each other for very long, it floored you how much of a change you saw in him now versus when you’d first met. Back then, he was cruel, and violent, and prone to laughing at the misfortune of others. Now, he was still all of those things, but there was also this soft side of him that he continued to surprise you with. He’d actively chosen to stay by your side all day, even though he could have let the others handle your care. He probably would have opted for that option just a few weeks ago. He was also making the choice to stay at camp with you tomorrow, rather than venture out with the rest of your party to be rewarded by the Myconids for your efforts, and possibly spill more blood throughout the Underdark. Knowing how much he loved to spill blood, that was a big deal. 

He’d also shown you the most tender affection the first night you’d slept together and every heated encounter since; he was showing he cared in the ways he knew how. He was trying his best (for the most part), and that’s what mattered to you. Astarion could take all the time he needed to sort out his feelings.

But you knew how you felt.

“So other than the peril, are you enjoying the Underdark?”

Astarion groaned. “Really?”

“Yes.”

He let out a long exhale, the cool air of his breath tickling your neck. “You know, for all the time I spent lurking in the shadows, I’ve never ventured into the Underdark before.”

“So you’ve told me,” you squeezed his hand.

“Hardly a… luxurious setting, but it definitely has its upsides for a vampire.” 

You nodded, still looking up at the top of your tent. 

“Or its… undersides? Because it’s - you know what I mean.”

You snorted at his feeble attempt at a pun. “Boooo,” you teased and looked over at him.

“I’ve been awake for nearly 24 hours, need I remind you.”

“Then trance, idiot.” You poked his nose.

“I said I would stay awake with you.”

“I’ll be alright,” you insisted, “though I appreciate the offer, my love.”

Astarion blinked slowly, his eyes suddenly heavy with sleep. It was as if he were finally allowing himself to relax, now that he was able to hear your voice again. He wore a lopsided grin as his eyes drifted closed. 

“I really did miss you,” he murmured, his voice soft.

“I missed you, too.” You brought your clasped hands up to your mouth and kissed the back of his hand. “Thank you for saving me.”

He didn’t properly respond, and instead hummed out a sleepy acknowledgement. 

“You’re so heroic.”

“Mmm.”

“And handsome.”

“Mhm.” He inhaled and exhaled deeply.

“Thank you for staying by my side.”

This time he didn’t respond. He looked entirely peaceful and his lips were parted slightly.

“Maybe I spoke too soon,” you laughed quietly, brushing a loose hair out of his face. “You should sleep though,” you said more to yourself than to him. “I can’t imagine how tired you must be.”

You watched his chest rise and fall with the unnecessary breaths he still took after all these years. You couldn’t believe that mere moments ago, he’d admitted that he was beginning to care more for your safety than for his own. Much less that he might even love you.

Astarion made a small sound, like a tiny grunt from the back of his throat that you’d come to learn meant that he was likely out cold. He rarely fell asleep before you did, given how little rest elves needed, which only further showed how exhausted he truly was.

“I love that noise,” you smiled. 

You turned your head back up to the top of your tent and sighed. “I love how funny you are. And I love how even though you’re incredibly intelligent, you’re the dumbest man I’ve ever met.” You looked back at him. His slumbering expression remained unchanged. “I love your eyes, and your ears, and the annoying way you put your hand on your hip when you think you’ve gained the upper hand in something.” You squeezed his hand ever so slightly and watched to make sure his features stayed even. “I love how kind you pretend you aren’t and how fiercely you deny it when I bring it up. I love your laugh, and how gently you hold me when you feed, and how you think about me when you could so easily think of yourself instead.” 

Again, you brought his hand up to your mouth and kissed his fingers.

“I love you, Astarion.”

You couldn’t be sure, but you swore you could see the slightest smile on his face as you felt your eyes flutter closed and you drifted into your own contented sleep.

[snailsgoingdowntown]

Help, I Reincarnated as the Female Lead’s Sister-in-Law!

Chapter 3.

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'Slight' Yandere! Dion Agriche x Fem! Reader.

Arranged marriage AU.

SOME SPOILERS FROM THE NOVEL

Warnings: Maria once again being a creep and sadist, mention of the reader becoming a ‘toy’ (aka being experimented on, abused, losing all her human rights), Dion is most likely out of character, some things are conveniently there, the yandere themes will show up eventually just not now. I should probably add ‘Yandere! Dion’ to the other chapters. Probably. Edit cuz I completely forgot hahahahajajajajaja: one (1) mention of incest. Please tell me if I missed anything else I'm so tired I only slept 3 hours I do recommend doing that

Slightly edited.

Disclaimer: I do NOT condone any of the harmful and/or dangerous actions/behaviors that take place in this piece of FICTION. These actions/behaviors should not be normalized or romanticized as they are extremely toxic and dangerous.

This blog writes and interacts with DEAD DOVE DO NOT EAT/DARK CONTENT

MINORS/BLANK BLOGS/BLOGS THAT DO NOT REBLOG FANART/FANFICTION DNI.

Chapter summary: teatime with your mother-in-law(s)… how wonderful. But Maria makes a strange comment on her son that has you overthinking.

Word count: 3041k

===

The greenhouse was beautiful, all kinds of flowers adding color, the lush green bushes making it look peaceful. Butterflies that flutter around, the bees that pollinate, the birds that chirp – so peaceful. The warm ray of the sun keeps your skin warm. The weather was perfect.

“You know… I just couldn’t see Dion with anyone. That boy shows no interest in anything – but I’m curious to see how this plays out. Although if you ask me, I think he should be grateful to get such a beautiful wife such as yourself!” Maria claps her hands as she praises you.

Yes. The weather was perfect. But being cornered and held hostage by Maria Agriche under the pretense of teatime was not. The blasted woman found you not even an hour after your bath – truly a morning person. The worst part was that it’s been two hours since she dragged you into her little game.

“Don’t you agree, Sierra?” The woman in question looks at Lant’s third wife timidly. Her deep blue eyes filled with both pity directed at you, and fear for her well-being glances at you. Her honey blond hair practically floats with the wind. She looks back at Maria.

“Yes, of course.” Then she looks back at you.

“Please don’t hesitate to ask us for help.” Hah. Funny, especially when her eyes are silently begging for it. But you’re in the same spot as she is – unable to escape. You’re just happy you don’t have a child. Yet.

You repress the cold shiver that attempts to crawl up your spine.

“Oh, thank you…” how should you address them as? Sierra wasn’t technically your mother-in-law… but Maria was. Sierra catches on before Maria does.

“Oh, you can call me Sierra. After all, it’s Maria that’s your mother-in-law, if we consider that Dion, is her biological son.” A forced smile tugs at her lips. The short haired brunette stares at her favorite person in awe.

“Oh my, Sierra!” she coos before turning her attention towards you. Unfortunately, her smile was genuine. Like she didn’t force both of you victims to have tea with her. You take a sip from your cup, hiding your frown. And then, you smile.

“Thank you, Sierra and mother-in-law.”

“Oh, don’t mention it. Anything for my precious, beautiful daughter-in-law!” she chirps. Her purple eyes shine brightly as she offers you more tea. You accept, watching as she personally pours it. Part of you do hope that’s it’s poisoned – maybe just enough to keep you bedridden with a stomachache for a day or two.

Which would mean that most likely, no one would be allowed near you. Well, maybe.

“Do tell me if Dion bothers you at all. He means well, but… he can be too much, at times. Oh! If you ever get lonely, feel free to find me – these kids get so busy.” She props her elbows on the table, resting her hands on the back of her hands. Like a curious child she observes you, gauging your reaction.

Your legs are begging you to run. You resist the urge to flip the table over and run for the hills; she would just kill you once she catches you.

Or turn you into a toy.

“Thank you again, mother-in-law. But I’m sure that we’ll get along fine.” You’re smiling on the outside but you’re screaming and crying mentally. You’re caught by surprise when her white gloved hands carefully reach across the small table to grab yours gently.

“You’re sweet… truly, I’m happy that Lant picked you to be our son’s wife.” Her beauty is breathtaking, pale skin and soft hair, her hat casting a shadow over her face. But it does little to hide that hint of sadistic pleasure in her eyes. You already knew she was a sadist and mental.

But you failed to realize that she would add you to her list of favorite targets until now. Mulling over it, you think that this could be helpful – maybe like with Sierra, she would guard you like a dog. However, that would also mean she would drag you around like a doll. And if she ever got bored of you…

“Oh, are you cold?” She feels how your hands tremble. Right. You shouldn’t think of such things right now. Not in front of her.

“Ah, sorry mother-in-law… I was just excited to meet you so quickly after the wedding. We didn’t get to talk much during the engagement party nor at the wedding ceremony.” You lie, and part of you knows that she’ll only take it as half-truth. Still, her smile twists into something warm yet sinister.

You’re her new prey.

“I’m happy about that too. But my, those events must have left you tired.” She ‘comforts’ you, squeezing your hands before releasing them. They tingle coldly.

“Yes… I never thought that they could be so busy and complicated.” From out of the corner of your eye you notice Sierra busying herself with a slice of cake. She mentally checked out. Oh, how you wish you could do the same.

“Mm, but it was exciting, wasn’t it?”

Exciting? How would she know? She didn’t even want to marry Lant in the first place – she only stayed for Sierra. If you’re remembering correctly from spoilers anyway. Fuck, you wished you finished the entire series.

“It was… different from how I imagined. From the novels I read and what I was told by some relatives, I thought it would have been a breeze. But it was exciting.” Just in a horrible way you mentally add. This woman probably knows your true thoughts so why state them.

Still, you should play the role of a ‘loving’ daughter-in-law.

“Dion,” she starts while pressing her lips against the rim of her teacup, “helped a bit with the preparations. Not much, just with the little things… specific things.”

“What?”

With the way she smiles, it’s clear that she’s enjoying how baffled you are. But forget that – Dion? Help? With wedding preparations?

All she does is grin before changing the subject.

Sierra exchanges a look with you but leaves it be.

---

Your legs give out the moment the bedroom door shuts behind you. Hana went to get you something once she escorted you back to your room. You forgot what though.

“Ah… I thought it’d never end…” you slump against the door, worn and torn. How long was that hostage situation? Three hours? Four?

You need to work on a plan to avoid Maria. Otherwise, her gossip and sadistic tendencies will be the death of you. You’ll die before Dion can even hold a sword against your throat.

“Husband, husband… mother-in-law, husband… which one is worse…” your thumb becomes victim to biting. “The mother-in-law…? She is the reason, well, one of them… I feel bad but I probably shouldn’t…” you mumble to yourself.

“But my husband is also…shit, I’m so fucked….” Is this how Roxana felt? Hopeless and weak? Unlike you, however, she was able to adapt quickly. And unlike her, you weren’t one to stay strong under pressure. Not to that degree. You’re not sure if you ever will be.

Thud, thud

Banging the back of your head against the door seems like a sane choice. Maybe you’ll wake up from this nightmare. Yeah, that’s it! This is just a nightmare. If you hit your head enough, you’ll wake up from it. You’ll wake up in your nice, fluffy bed. It’ll be your eighteen birthday and instead of being told about a fiancé you’ll be told that… you don’t know.

Think (Name), think. There must be something you could conjure up in your mind that could overwrite this nightmare. Something. Anything!

Creak

You fall backwards as the door opens, head landing against something warm and firm. You look up only to see crimson eyes that’s emptier than a void.

“Oh,” you blink up at your husband, “we-welcome…back?” You question rather than greet. He’s like a statue, only looking down at you. He doesn’t move, simply gazes at you. You can’t tell what he’s thinking. You’re not sure if you want to.

“Wife.”

At Dion’s words you suddenly remember where you were – his room.

You scramble to your feet, tripping once before dusting yourself off to make yourself presentable. Doing a curtsy, you greet him properly. Your head hangs for longer than necessary; you don’t want to see his face nor for him to see the look of fear in your eyes. Cold sweat forms on your temples and you hope he doesn’t notice.

Honestly, you’re surprised to see him. You thought he would avoid you, seeing it as unnecessary to interact with you.

Or maybe he didn’t expect to run into you here. Either way, as you look up at him, you can’t help but wish you would drop dead. To be woken up by your brother shaking you, like the little shit he is. To smell the coffee your mother would make for the dead tired servants.

“I heard you had tea with mother.” He walks past you, causing you to quickly face him. No brush of the shoulders. No questioning why you were sitting on the ground like a dog. Not even a glance is thrown your way.

“Y-yes,” you shouldn’t stutter. Probably. “It was…” nice? Horrible? Exciting or boring? “…a unique experience.” You answer, fiddling with your hair. That should be a neutral response. You decide to keep quiet about what Maria had told you – that he helped with some of the preparations.

Most likely, she lied about it to see your reaction.

Dion doesn’t say anything else. Just goes the closet and slip off his shirt to change into a new one. Your cheeks feel warm as you look away, bashful. Now was not the time to admire his muscles. Rather, now was the time to excuse yourself and come back once the coast was clear.

Now that you think about it… where would you even go? There were too many twists and turns, with insane, awful and bestial people. What if you ran into one of his many siblings? Or another wife that decided you were a weak little thing they could get their hands on?

Or worse yet, run into Lant? The realization of how alone and weak you are, has your fingers pulling at your hair. Are you safer here after all? With Dion Agriche? The most brutal of all siblings?

Well, you are his wife… but that doesn't mean he won’t dispose of you. More so if he really did take after his father as others said. He did in the series, you think, but everything was turned on it’s fucking head. You don’t know what to expect anymore.

“Mother enjoys playing with the weak,” Dion informs you as he walks past you, glancing at you over his shoulder. You can’t breathe. “So, I suggest you don’t show weakness.” He leaves you like that. You watch as he closes the door behind him, silent. It was all you could do.

Voice caught in your throat and heart threatening to burst out your chest, his advice replays in your head. Yes, you knew that. But you’re unsure why he made the choice to warn you. He had no reason to. Wife or not, he showed no interest in you – maybe he had a good day today. Felt generous.

As generous as he could be. If so, you pitied Roxana – he probably ran into her and annoyed her. It probably made his day, too. It was the only thing that you could think of.

Your lungs release the deep sigh you didn’t know you were holding. Body finally relaxing, your legs give out on you. Again. The tile is hard and hurts your knees. Will they bruise?

You should work on this. You’ll lose the use of your legs and knees if you don’t. …maybe you should find and talk to Roxana.

No. She won’t help you. Even if you tell her everything, she might pull some strings and get rid of you, not wanting to take a chance. Not willing to have you accidentally have a slip of the tongue.

Funny. The only hope of your salvation will likely see you as a nuisance. To be fair, you can’t and won't blame her – you held no importance in this family. Lant is probably looking for a new wife for Dion this very second. Why stop at one wife?

“Haaaah… why couldn’t I be reincarnated into something like…’The Otaku Love Connection,’ or ‘Positively Yours,’… at least I wouldn’t have to walk on eggshells and worry about dying…or tortured…” you lament, trying your best not to fall apart. If you were going to be reincarnated as a character that shouldn’t exist, couldn’t you at least be away from the main and side stories?

Away from all the action. Just living a peaceful life. That’s all you’re asking for.

The again, you probably don’t deserve that… not after…

“…No use in thinking about the past. I guess God is making me pay my dues,” you force yourself to stand. Your legs may be wobbly, but you can’t keep acting like this. Sure, some of your in-laws may leave you alone once they realize you pose no threat; however, that doesn’t go for everyone.

Once everyone sees that Dion holds no interest in you, good or bad, some will dig their claws into you. Especially Fontaine. That creep… he’s worse than Dion with certain things. Like incest.

No, no, no! You shouldn’t just assume that about Dion! Sure, the vibe he gives off in the series is… questionable. But-!

Knock, knock.

You jump, startled. Hana must be back. With what, you absolutely have no idea. You had checked out mentally by the time you escaped the clutches of Maria.

“My lady, I have brough you the indigestion medicine, as Lady Sierra had requested.” Her statement puzzles you before you feel some warmth spread throughout your chest. She’s sweet. Too sweet.

You feel horrible for her but even worse for her children.

You push the thought away.

You force yourself onto your feet.

“Come in.” you order, praying that Hana didn’t hear the crack in your voice. One breath, two breaths, your lungs work overtime to ensure you keep breathing. It hurts, like you’re being stabbed from the inside. You need to work through the pain.

Fuck, you need to work through the pain if you want a fighting chance to survive here. Maybe make it out if you’re lucky.

Hana comes into the room, holding a tray of water and a small white pouch of medicine. Doubt starts to swirl inside you. How could you be sure that Sierra was the one who sent this? What if it was Maria playing a ‘prank,’ to see your crying face?

Man, why did you zone out during the last ten minutes of that damn get-together.

She walks closer until she’s barely a foot away. You take the medicine with wariness, unable to reject it in front of the maid. Her eyes are glued to you. Expecting you to accept this so-called ‘medicine’ without hesitance. And so, you do.

You can feel the pills go down your throat, the water barely helping. When you place the near empty glass down onto the tray, Hana bows before taking her leave with your permission. Again, the door shuts. Only for her to come back immediately afterwards.

Great, just great.

“My lady, I forgot to tell you… I’ll be helping you get ready around six.”

“Oh? For what?”

“Dinner with Master Dion. I’ll come back here and there; forgive me for not staying near your side for the entire day. As for now, I am not your personal maid yet.” So, Hana is going to be your personal maid. But why isn’t she right now?

How strange.

Wait. Maybe this is a good thing – you’ll be alone for quite a bit. Away from preying eyes. Maybe you could conjure up a plan on how to survive this hellhole.

“It’s fine, Hana,” a sweet smile as you clasp your hands together, ‘understanding’ of her position. “I’m grateful and happy that you will be checking on me regardless of.” Hopefully you seem sweet enough. Genuine despite everything being faked.

She looks at you oddly. In the end she just bows her head before leaving.

“…I think I’m going to die from stress before anyone gets to me…” dragging your feet, you sluggishly fall face first onto the made bed. Your feet are begging to be released from the torture device that is your heels; so, you kick them off. Huffing, you proceed to climb further onto the bed till your feet also rest on the mattress.

It’s soft and smells nice.

It smells like your bed back at home, oddly enough.

‘Dion…helped a bit with the preparations. Not much, just with the little things… specific things.”

“…What did that witch mean by that…?” Maria’s words come to mind the longer the scent engraved itself into your nose and mind. “She must be joking,” you muse, letting your eyes flutter shut.

But… things are starting to get a bit creepy.

Your eyes open. The longer you think about it, the gears turn in your head.

First, the shampoo. Sure, it was a popular brand, but you doubt your husband wanted to go around smelling like lavender. His… victims would smell him instantly if he used the product. The smell was more subtle than strong, but it would be best not to take any chances. Now, the bed.

It smelt like fucking citrus. Bergamot oranges to be exact, the same smell your bed has.

 You shake your head. It was just a coincidence – cirtcus smells were known to keep the bedbugs away. And as for the shampoo… maybe Maria sent it. As a wedding gift, probably. That or she didn’t want you to smell like him.

Either or neither, it shouldn’t matter. You’re just overthinking this. The insanity that takes over this mansion is just stressing you out. It would only make sense that you overthink about common scents.

“…I wonder if I’ll be allowed to write to my family…”

With that, your eyes flutter close. Everything turns back and sound is no longer a thing.

[yoshizawaviolet]

— ❝ One day at a time. ❞

✧ ADMIN. celeste (kroosluvr) / she/her / 23 / PST (but i'm pretty nocturnal)

✧ TATSUYA SUOU ASK/RP (@lonesingularity)

headcanon-based, canon-divergent at times, celeste's personal and beloved take on sumire yoshizawa! established july 17 2024.

all art posted or used as icons is either mine or from official persona media! please do not repost or use my art without permission!

please read my rules under the cut before following or interacting - we do not have to be mutuals to interact! ♡

no spoiler tags for p5r

open rp ✧ rp prompts ✧ all rp ✧ sumire musings ✧ art tag ✧ sumire answers ✧ verses

okay to respond to open rp, rp prompts, or musings whenever!

— ONE. my number 1 rule is absolutely no NSFW or R18 content. (even in AUs/timeskips.) aside from sumire being a minor, around age 15-16, i myself am not comfortable with that. i may also not interact with accounts that largely post nsfw/r18 stuff for my own comfort. please understand!!!  

— TWO. blood, violence is ok to a certain extent! but nothing crazy! i'll let you know if it's to an uncomfortable extent for me! 

— THREE. i may respond to asks/rp with art, but do not interact with me with expectations for art. if you even remotely tell me to draw something for you, i'll probably stop talking to you or block completely. (Vice versa, if you're an artist, please don't feel pressured to respond with art!!! <33)

— FOUR. this is my first time rping as a canon character, and running an rp/askblog at that! so, i'd like to restrict rp to persona series characters (and persona OCs) only for now. this might change later! the only mainline game i'm unfamiliar with is p1, and i haven't played strikers or finished tactica yet. 

— FIVE. i may not respond to your ask if 1) i can't think of a good answer 2) the ask is confusing 3) makes me uncomfortable 

— SIX. hopefully this is obvious but please no unsolicited flirting/overfamiliarity with the muse or admin, especially out-of-character.

OK !!! ദ്ദി ( ᵔ ᗜ ᵔ )

sending asks about specific ships/leaning towards certain pairings, and feel free to specify if you'd like! "i.e. what do you like to do with x, what do you think about y?" as i am an avid sumire multishipper, basically any sumire x pthief or highschool-aged npc is valid! cross-persona series characters are also valid with chemistry! (so probably don't ask "what do you think about minato" as there's nothing to go off)

if we follow each other (reminder that i follow from kroosluvr!) honestly feel free to shoot a starter anytime, i don't mind at all! even multiple rps going at the same time are awesome!!! ^^

totally ok to drop a thread if you don't see it going anywhere or it's naturally come to a close! (though i think ending it with an [END] of sorts would be nice hehe

my sumire is bi demisexual! my favorite pairings for her are shusumi/shuakesumi poly/akesumi (my favorites! feel free to read here for more), kitasumi/violetfox, annsumi, sumitaba, ryusumi, and sumifumi!! but as mentioned, totally willing to rp/think/draw other ships!

NO !!! Σ(°ロ°)

probably no rp with other sumires, sorry - i just don't think i have ideas for that haha

please don't push headcanons or ships on me!

please don't dm me unless we've interacted before!! if there's any inquiries you have re: my art, commissions, please dm my main, kroosluvr.

please do not push me to answer your ask!!!!!! totally ok to nudge me if we're mid-rp though and its been 48~ hours!

do not use the icons that i make for sumire, as they're tailored to my depiction of sumire and therefore i don't want anyone else to use them.

thanks for reading! let's have fun! ♡

[kitkat-the-muffin]

After running an entire experiment for over a year and a half

I have finally perfected the best order to play the Kingdom Hearts series in

The aforementioned best order has been completely play-tested by an outsider new to KH in order to verify its effectiveness, and it goes as follows:

Kingdom Hearts 1

Kingdom Hearts X [chi] and Kingdom Hearts Union X [cross]

Kingdom Hearts Birth By Sleep • (start with Ventus, then Terra, and end with Aqua. Include Final Ending. Exclude Secret Ending)

Kingdom Hearts Re:Chain Of Memories

Kingdom Hearts 2 • (followed by Kingdom Hearts BBS’s Secret Ending)

Kingdom Hearts 358/2 Days • (read Roxas’s diary alongside the cutscene movie if not playing the original release. Then read the secret reports after finishing the game)

Kingdom Hearts Re:Coded • (you may also play Coded if so desired)

Kingdom Hearts Dark Road

Kingdom Hearts 3D: Dream Drop Distance

Kingdom Hearts Birth By Sleep 0.2 A Fragmentary Passage

Kingdom Hearts 3

Kingdom Hearts 3 Re:Mind

Kingdom Hearts Missing Link

Kingdom Hearts Melody Of Memory

Kingdom Hearts 4

Extra notes:

DON’T FORGET THE SECRET BOSSES! All the cutscenes that precede and follow every secret boss fight is important, so I recommend looking them up on YouTube if you can’t beat them

ALWAYS READ THE SECRET REPORTS!!!! All of them. For every game

Look up BBS’s Secret Ending on YouTube, unless you feel like beating all three routes on Proud Mode (including the Mysterious Figure boss… I think. Idk, look it up)

As of writing this post, Missing Link and 4 have not been released yet, so they may be skipped for now. However, based on their trailer vibes alone, I’d still recommend this order whenever they do release

The mobile app for KHUX and KHDR has been discontinued, so the only source we currently have for them are cutscene movies on YouTube and Damo’s fandubs

The Dark Road fandub is not out yet as of posting this chart, but hopefully I can update this post whenever it does release (same with Missing Link cutscenes)

If you have any questions please reply to this post because I have answers!

Here are some obvious ones tho:

Days is AFTER 2 to preserve the Riku plot twist

Dark Road is BEFORE DDD to increase player attachment to Xehanort before he takes full control over the narrative

Ventus is played FIRST in BBS because it helps the narrative make more sense (sorry Nomura, Xehanort being evil is not a plot twist)

Any spoilers for future games revealed in the prequels are intentional (like Maleficent thinking about Master Xehanort in Union X, or Terra seeing a vision of KH2 Riku in BBS) and are meant to serve as foreshadowing

If anyone feels like streaming the games in this order please let me know. I skewed the results of my experiment a little by being present for the Test Subject’s playthrough, so it’d genuinely benefit from another account played entirely in a vacuum

But also we kind of sped through the games rather than relishing them. There’s so much to do in all the games but to get to the rest of the story we didn’t really play them to their fullest. I hope future players can enjoy all there is and take their time with it :3

Anyway, please reblog this post if you found it interesting! I want to share this order with the world because I genuinely think it’s the best way to play the games! And again, if you have any questions, feel free to ask!

Thank you to @goldensunset @8golden-harvest8 @share-the-skye for acknowledging my experiment’s existence a couple times, y’all are real ones 💕💕💕

[stellar-constellations]

Hi! I just wanted to let you know that I binged your Star Patient series in one go and I love how you write! I was so immersed I actually got so disappointed when I realized I hit the end of the uploaded chapters haha. I'm really loving Reader's character in terms of how she deals with the verrrrry questionable obstacles coming her way, girlie needs a break to just cuddle it out with Andrew or something. Anyway yeah I just wanted to drop by and let you know I'm absolutely eating your writing :D

Thank you so much! It means so much to know people enjoy the personality I chose for reader! I honestly love writing her.

I didn't want a Mary Sue type of reader, or a reader who just seems like a replacement of Ashley (I'm getting real tired of seeing these rip-offs of Ashley, she has her own charm nobody can compete with).

I wanted a reader with her own psychological issues and problems, this series is for Andrew, who is from the psychological game genre! It only made sense having a unique character to go with him! I wanted to match the game's elements and have the reader just like it; battling with her morals and if what she's doing is right, just in a different type of context and setting.

Reader's obstacles and drama in her life is just crazy, but we embrace the crazy. It'll be boring just reading the same thing you've already seen inside of the TCOAAL game, so I wanted to flesh out my own plot and characters. Reader might not be everyone's cup of tea, but she's mine and I love her.

Honestly, I'm still trying to understand Andrew's personality because of how complex it is (I simp for this man so hard, we need more fics of him). Andrew is such a pain in the ass to write sometimes, but I really love him for it, so please bear with me if he seems out of character, because he is! He's my own version of Andrew I wrote for this story, so he's not going to be canon, just like how the timeline and characters aren't canon either.

She really does need to sit back and take a breather with Andrew, but her trust issues refuse to and we'll see why in later chapters~

I've been hinting the introduction of a new character, and chapter 6 will have plenty hints of that, so I'm really excited for their eventual release since it'll really spice up the story and characters. It's a yandere story, after all.

Slight spoiler for chapter 6 down below, if you didn’t already piece this out:

I don't know if anyone has pieced this out yet, but our reader is bipolar (hence part of the psychological aspects of her), and it's something we'll see more of in chapter 6 and onwards. I'm going to do my absolute best to not make her a stereotype of the typical bipolar stereotype (0-100 real fast, sudden mood shifts, etc). I don't want it to feel like anybody is being targeted or portrayed inaccurately, nor to do I want it to feel as the disorder is glamorized/romantized. I want reader to feel like a real person, just like how disorders (especially mental) are real too.

I'm definitely going to have to update my warnings because I'll be honest, the plot is being written as I write along and I don't want to trigger anyone or have unsuspecting readers read something they weren't expecting, so make sure to reread my warnings when chapter 6 is out!

I genuinely didn't believe many people would care much about this series, and I wrote it for fun, but it's such a wonderful surprise seeing people engage in my stories and ideas, you're apart of this journey just as much as I am.

Chapter 6 is currently at 6,000+ words and still has a lot more to go through, so it'll be a long chapter! Thank you my stars, for your support, patience, and giving me motivation!

The Andrew "Andy" Graves complete masterlist

Inbox is currently OPEN for questions about the story and new plotlines/ideas, temporarily closed for requests!

[revserrayyu]

2.2 Penacony thoughts [part 1]

**Mild spoiler warning** in place as I didn’t reach that far into the new update as of yet. Stopped right after seeing Sunday being a holy man listening to the troubles of others, so if that scene doesn’t ring any bells, then please refrain from reading further. As always, don’t spoil anything that happens afterwards, not only for myself, but for anyone else who hasn’t finished the new story yet.

First things first, I’m so pleased that we start off with Boothill. It feels like it’s been forever since he was first drip-marketed and when we heard that phone call of his with Black Swan, so finally seeing him in game is pretty nice. Still love that design in his eye too.

I’m also happy that the jade abacus was brought up again. Once we saw DHIL & Jing Yuan team up in the 2.2 livestream trailer I figured that Dan Heng was gonna call upon our beloved general with this item. At present, I don’t know if it’s actually used or if we head to the Xianzhou instead and request for help. Either way, I’m a bit surprised the general lends a hand. Of course he’s an ally and promised to help us with any troubles, but.. last time we saw him, he had just encountered Luocha and Jingliu, right? Could Jing Yuan really have left that confrontation behind so easily? Are we ever going to learn about what happened during that conversation? Who knows, but I hope we find out one day if this story doesn’t mention the matter further.

Anyways, who do you think the Elation Emanator that Boothill is? Naturally, I first thought of Sparkle solely because of her “I AM Elation!” declaration during her character trailer and her being a Masked Fool, but seeing how Boothill is having issues accessing Penacony in the first place, I doubt the two have officially met. They could’ve met elsewhere, sure, but I still doubt it’s Sparkle. Still haven’t a clue on who else it could be though but whomever it is certainly can’t hold their liquor.

Then we cut to Acheron being cornered by a bunch of npcs who are apparently all part of the “Dreammaster,” but let me just say that I love how literal Acheron can be, like correcting how many slashes she actually used. It’s also a bit scary for her to mention, as I don’t even remember a second blade either.

She’s just.. ironically funny to me. Acting all threatening but being completely serious with her grammar.

It was humorous when we switched to Robin for the first time. I didn’t manage to get a screenshot of it but how the screen even questioned it like “switching to Robin’s POV?” was hilarious. And rightfully so because this certainly isn’t our beloved idol. Sparkle, please, stop handing out bombs to everyone!

It was a short switch, but we finally jump back to where we personally left off. I know the journey Firefly is referring to might be our time hanging out together in Penacony, but somewhere deep down I imagine it could also be about our possible time with the Stellaron Hunters before the entire story even happened. I’m sure we have some sort of past with them but who knows if and when we’ll touch upon that.

Firefly goes into detail about her actions, about how she informed Silver Wolf to contact us and the plan she wanted to share with us before “Death” acted out. I guess it makes the lies and secrets a bit more bearable? All according to the script and at least she originally intended to tell us everything before the monster lashed out.

Then we get scene with her and Blade and oh my god, they both look so good?? Learning that Blade actually owns a driver’s license is comical too. Who would’ve thought our edgy man could be so reliable.

I’m so thankful for this scene as it gives us a taste about how Firefly acts around the other Stellaron Hunters. Since the rumors about her being Sam started, I couldn’t imagine how this sweet girl could’ve been one of them, but it seems she gets along just fine, even teasing Blade a bit.

Now correct me if I’m wrong but this is actually a flashback that happens right before Kafka destroys the Jepella Brotherhood during that one Myriad Celestia trailer, yeah? That’s pretty cool. Confirms that Firefly has been here the entire time and Bladie is even wearing the same suit.

I never thought of a decent acronym for what Sam could really mean, but we finally got our answer: Strategic Assault Mech. Makes me wonder if Firefly is even her true name, since that also seems to be part of the suit’s name.

Rejoice, someone other than ourselves can actually see Misha and Clockie. Would’ve never guessed that person to be Welt though. I guess he really is a child at heart. I know he gets excited whenever mechs are involved, such as the Engine of Creation, but this also reminds me of how his E6 depicts him as a child.

It’s unsettling that Misha calls “Death” something so innocent as “Sleepie.” Also claims that the monster isn’t aggressive and sometimes fetches the wrong guests to bring here.. uh huh, right. Sure. But of course Gallagher controls it! I know we learn more about him during this patch but I still don’t trust him.

So it’s clear that Misha is still a giant mystery. It’s good that us and Welt can see him, but the kid still isn’t perceived by everyone here. That one pepeshi we found alongside March thought we were talking to someone invisible and it appears Micah and Himeko can’t see Misha either.

During that flashback with the siblings as kids, I sorta feel like Sunday is also talking about Robin here. I know we’re chatting about the injured bird they found, but all the caged bird metaphors that Robin has, from her splash art and trailers, is hard to ignore.

Then we learn Gallagher is a History Fictionologist that’s in charge of this new place, which is all fine and well I suppose? Great to know who he really is but chalk it up as yet another person who lied to us. Of course I don’t believe much of anything any non-Express family says but whatever. He’s using fancy words that went over my head.

And now it’s all started to make sense in my head. Inviting different parties that have experience handling stellarons or at least have capable means of preventing a disaster. The Express and the Stellaron Hunters themselves are an obvious and reliable choices when it comes to stellarons, the IPC certainly has impressive power if Aventurine is anything to go off of, and I don’t doubt the real Galaxy Rangers are strong fighters too. I’m sire Black Swan and Sparkle have some tricks up their sleeves too, as would Ever-Flame Mansion.. if they’re alive. Also, the fact that the meme is named “Dormancy”.. Ratio stated in his note to Aventurine that “Dormancy” was the impossible in the dreamscape instead of “Death,” but I figured he just meant it as the word’s true meaning, not referring to the monster itself. That’s clever.

Sir, don’t give me hope like this by saying you’ll fight with us. Do you know how many people are wishing for you to actually be playable?? I’d love it if he was, I’d even take him as a four-star at this point (even though he clearly has five-star energy) but something tells me he isn’t. He gives me Cocolia vibes a little, like he’s certainly an important figure but I would not be shocked if he turns on us somehow and ends up as a boss of some sort either.

Aventurine’s status is truly a mystery that I definitely need to know! Is our beloved gambler okay?? Preferably alive somehow?? It hasn’t been long but I miss seeing/hearing him in the story already! But I do love that the chip he gave is when we first entered our hotel room turned out to be a transmitter. I’m not sure if it’ll reach his place in that momochromatic world he’s in, but perhaps we can use it to call upon Topaz and the rest of the IPC chilling in the hotel lobby? After Topaz noticed one of the broken Aventurine stone pieces lost its shine, I can imagine that our gambler had several spare transmitter chips to hand out to those he can depend on.

Stuff happens in a quick cutscene and we climb up many stairs to encounter another Nameless who has certainly seen better days. He sorta looks like that one white-haired dude on that new light cone that they showed briefly during the 2.2 livestream. And since it isn’t much of a spoiler anymore considering the official HSR yt channel already put out a video on it.. yeah, harmony hat.

Pfftt there’s something so funny to me about hearing Himeko call that fierce monster who has already “killed” several people a mere pet. Show no fear mother!

I absolutely LOVE that this man canonically can’t swear! They can switch all the words they want but I know exactly what Boothill wishes to say and it is hilarious. This quirk alone makes me want to pull for him.

My memory isn’t the greatest, but this shot made it so clear for me to remember that the Forgotten Hall mirror is a sort of Garden of Recollection thing, so having Black Swan appear from it was simply perfect.

The girlies working together once again, oh my~

After the things you personally witnessed sweetie, I’m glad you think so. Gotta love strong women!

Whose?? The only relics that come to mind are the Ashblazing Grand Duke set which I’m fairly certain isn’t what Acheron is referring to. I only thought of it due to the memes about how she killed him and turned him into said relics.

There’s another cutscenes with Acheron and that old dude we heard last patch, but I don’t remember much aside from him reminiscing about his companions once being Galaxy Rangers and more chatter about Nihility. This scene however, with Sunday looking all handsome and holy.. OH BOY. He’s gorgeous with the light shinning on him like that. I feel blessed to have witnessed such beauty.

I never thought of him to actually listen to people’s sins, but it suits him rather well. Doesn’t seem like most people recognize him doing so either? Aside from this one pepeshi of course.. either that, or everyone clearly respects Sunday too much while this person could care less on how to act around him. I was gonna make fun of the merchant for having such trivial sins, but if you’re living a life where that’s all you have to worry about, then sign me up.

The confession isn’t all fun and games though as some disbelief about the Family is brought up. Yet another reason for me not to completely trust this holy hot handsome man yet. Looking forward to continuing more later tonight.

[bellagrimfox]

Oswald the Lucky Rabbit Headcanons/Ideas for Epic Mickey

Headcanons

Oswald often gloats about how he got an appearance in Disneyland/world. Until he remembers some of the kids mistaking him for Mickey.

He hates being called old despite being made years before Mickey. (thanks @jakeneutron and your awesome interpretation of Oswald)

Oswald was responsible for naming all of their rabbit kids, but he'd always forget who's who since there's 420 of them. (I feel like this one is obvious but I thought it'd be nice to say it)

Oswald gets paranoid about his foot being stolen or cut off, to a point where he puts an extra blanket around his lucky left foot.

Oswald never rubs his right foot since it's cursed with bad luck, though his misfortune isn't often the foot's fault and if it is, it's usually someone mistaking it for his lucky foot or by complete accident.

Oswald has a huge stigma against wolves and foxes. As for dogs, he hates rabbit hunting breeds but is overall ok with them. Fortunately for Mickey, Pluto is one of the few dogs he likes.

Oswald originally was terrified of having kids (Reference to Poor Papa short), though he very quickly got over that fear once he saw his first child.

Oswald has a small interest in lost media, mostly preserving and finding cartoons long forgotten.

Fanny was Oswald's first wife and the one he had children with. She left him around the time the Bunny Children were born. Oswald remembers the reason, though he won't share that with anyone other than Ortensia.

Ideas

Let's start with mechanic ideas before we get into rewrite territories.

His remote weapon could function differently but in a way that perfectly mirrors Mickey's paintbrush. To do this, let's look back at what Mickey can do.

The paint allows Mickey to create and reform enemies, thinner is pretty much the opposite. Using this fact and the original remote mechanic in the sequel, let's see if we can combine them together.

Electricity

His original attacks are still the same with being able to stun enemies and effect technology. However, in the rewrite, this moveset is basically the Paint counterpart.

Now this is where the new stuff happens. His Thinner attacks are based off plasma.

Consider this image as a reference for how his remote would look like when in Thinner/Plasma mode.

Anyways, Plasma mode can kill Blotlings and similar enemies and damage technology. For example, when you use Plasma on fireworks, instead of just igniting them, they explode into a ball of fire that can destroy walls and anything else nearby.

Corruption

Consider this a part 2 of the Plasma mode idea. Reprogramming works differently when using Plasma. Whenever you fire a beam of Plasma on an unarmored Beetleworx, you will end up corrupting them which will turn them into violent drones. As for switches, they will malfunction and break, making them unstable throughout the entire playthrough.

Bonus Mechanic

When Oswald is on very low health, you can use his lucky rabbit foot to get a random beneficial effect such as healing or extra damage. Just note that you can only use one rabbit foot per level and it doesn't work on bosses.

SPOILERS BEYOND THIS POINT!! IF YOU HAVEN'T PLAYED OR SEEN THE GAME, PLEASE DON'T READ THIS PART!!!

Epic Mickey Story Rewrites

Note: I haven't played the original game yet so this is going to be based off what I've seen and read from the wikies.

In my rewrite, events in the game change in content and story based on if you've used the Paint or Thinner as the main weapon. That's just the summary but the worldbuilding post will go deep into it so please remember this for future posts.

First, the neutral path, Oswald follows the same personality and attitude towards Mickey like in the game. Though I'd add some moments of character development with extra cutscenes. These scenes would be slightly altered depending on the Paint and Thinner path but would be pretty much the same regardless of which path you take.

For example, I came up with a scene where Oswald wakes up in the middle of the night and he goes to where Mickey is sleeping. In this moment, Oswald is able to snatch the paintbrush and is about to use it on Mickey to steal his heart, only for him to not go through with it since Mickey has done so much to help him save Wasteland and stop the Storm Blot. (This is the canon name of the main villain blot. This video best clears up the confusion)

Now for the Thinner path Oswald, he's a lot more aggressive towards you and while he sees it's effective in wiping out the blotlings, he also sees that it's affecting the civilians of Wasteland and calls Mickey out on it often.

Paint path Oswald becomes more friendly and positive to Mickey, regaining the hope that he and Mick can really become brothers and forgetting about stealing his heart.

Now for the big spoilers, the last moments of the game.

I'm very happy to write this part finally.

In the beginning of the second part of the final boss, Gus says this-

In the rewrite, there is an actual time limit for the final boss where you actually have to recover the heart before Oswald gets absorbed. However, this time limit is long on purpose, giving you enough time to defeat the Storm Blot. Of course, both the neutral and thinner path endings don't change much from the original game.

Though, if you did go pass the time limit, you would get a secret pin and a secret non canon end where it's a mirror of the regular ending but Oswald isn't there.

But on the Hero path, a different scene plays out.....

After Mickey frees his heart, it lands into the hands of Oswald who, after some consideration, hands it over to Mickey. Only.....this time, before it could leave, Oswald keeps holding it. When Mickey tries to get closer, a transformation occurs.

Oswald's body becomes an unstable mass of ink and thinner, his mouth replaced with a mess of teeth, his hands replaced with sharp claws.

As for Mickey's heart, it became fused to his chest, covered in an armor of pure thinner, making it sickly green with pulsing veins. In hero mode, the Storm Blot has brought one more trick. The last resort. The final challenge.

The Forgotten (Oz-Blot)

[orkbutch]

hi em! i just wanted to say i’m so pleased you enjoy and talk about karlach and her interesting, complex personality (also her hot monolid eyes). i’m not finished with the game yet but i genuinely love to see your commentary, especially since i tune out so much of the broader conversation on bg3 oops. 💖 hope you’re having a good day! :)

aww thank you hehehe! I'm ngl i also tune out the broader bg3 convo a lot of the time now lmao. I'm just enjoying my little corner of the sandbox, making up stories with my favourite girls and such. Also im sorry if ive spoiled shit for anyone i completely forgot to tag anything for spoilers until i read this very ask LMAO

[theowritesfiction]

How’s it going? I wanted to inquire about two things with the Azutara Kitchen nightmare au. The firs, is how does Azula approach cooking?

Is it more a meticulous and tedious task that’s she’s be trained to do and to be damned good at, but does not personally enjoy?

Or is Azula’s approach to cooking similar to her approach to fire-bending in canon? Where she is a prodigy that loves cooking so much, that it becomes a part of Azula’s identity. This love for cooking, is raised by Ozai’s praise in a sense. Yet, is not complete dependent on him. (At least that’s how I interpret Azula’s relationship to Fire-bending in canon).

If answering this question hits spoiler territory though, please don’t answer! But also please do. (Paradigm of fiction you love no?)

Second inquiry is about a recipe. I know that you have posted about playing Baldurs Gate III before. In a similar vein, what is your opinion about the Elder Scrolls series of games? And in relation to the Kitchen nightmare fic I found a recipe blogpost by Taste of Tamriel. The “Rumare-Slaughter fish pie” recipe. I saw this and thought of the fic, after all what better way for Azula to get to Katara’s or Yue’s hearts than by their stomachs? Azula has already captivated Katara, Yue, and Suki via aesthetics (and who can blame them?) getting to the water tribe girls by making a delicious fish pie might work. It could also make up for Azula’s… interesting flirtation skills.

Plus there is a certain allure (so to speak) in making a video game lore dish. At least I find it so. Not that I can cook worth a damn myself.

If you are curious, I have provided a link to the recipe below.

-745th voice of the people

Ps: Thanks for writing (another) awesome Azutara story. Your stories, @juniperhillpatient and other Azutara stories helps brighten the day, and lesson the pain from college class and homework. Along with the lessening the pending doom of dealing with real world!

https://www.tumblr.com/tastesoftamriel/176571528529/rumare-slaughterfish-pie-anyone-whos-been

Hey, it's going well, thank you - alternating between work, writing and playing some Baldur's Gate 3 mostly.

I'm obviously always happy to ramble about my writing, so thank you for your questions. :)

Azula's relationship with cooking is an interesting question to think about. Most modern AU's will have Azula being useless in the kitchen because she's very spoiled and privileged, and it makes sense that she has little idea about what goes on in the kitchen. But what if her father was a world famous chef?

The way I imagine this, at first cooking for Azula (and Zuko too) was something they identified as a way to get their father's approval. I don't see cooking as something that Azula just instantly loved and was great at. It's something that she has worked on tenaciously over the years, and in the process, she has learned to love it.

And some might say, wait, cooking just doesn't sound like something Azula would be into. Well, ignoring the obvious parallel with firebending of heat/flame being involved, I think Azula has that kind of personality where once she gets immersed in something, she wants to learn everything there is to learn and become the best ever at it. At the top level, cooking is a very involved skill of great intricacies and many amazing techniques to master. I just think it's a challenge that someone compulsively obsessive like Azula would enjoy.

Anyway, those are my thoughts about Azula's relationship with cooking.

Quick answer about the Elder Scrolls or Bethesda style games in general. I think they're great games, however, I have never been able to really get into the whole genre of open world RPG's. I often feel like narrative gets lost among all this freedom to explore. I prefer more sandbox-y RPG's with tighter narratives, even if exploration tends to get sacrificed in the process.

Anyway, as far as Azula cooking something for the other girls in the Kitchen Nightmares story, that's an excellent suggestion and I'm happy to tell you that I already have some plans for it - if perhaps not exactly Azula making a delicious sounding fish pie for the girls. We are definitely going to see Azula in the kitchen and cooking, perhaps not in the next chapter, but very soon.

I don't think it will occur to Azula to purposefully try to impress Katara, Yue and Suki with her cooking skills, but you should expect that to happen anyway once the other girls see how Azula works and get to enjoy the results of her work.

Anyway, I'm glad that my stories serve as a helpful distraction from the drudgery of everyday life. :) As a reader, I find that stories by our friend @juniperhillpatient really brighten my day and provide a wonderful distraction, so to know that my stories do something similar for my readers is very flattering, thank you!

[acacia-may]

For the headcanons request game, may I ask 💚 and 🖤 for Gashu Satou (YTTD)? After the mini ep I started loving him as a character, but I understand if it makes you uncomfortable and want to skip this. if that's the case I apologize

Hi there, Anon-friend! Thank you so much for the ask and for playing my Bye Bye Writer's Block Headcanon's Game! This is my second YTTD ask ever which is very, very exciting for me so thank you so much for that! 🥰

Thank you also for being so polite and respectful. I really appreciate it, and I hope that I can treat you with the same respect in this post. 💕 Overall, Gashu, to me, is an extremely complicated character, and, truthfully, I did have to give this all a little bit of thought when I saw your ask come in. Ultimately, I decided that I do feel comfortable taking your request; however, for personal reasons, I would not feel comfortable posting these headcanons without including some semblance of explanation as to why I felt comfortable taking the request in the first place (if that makes sense?). Therefore, I apologize in advance for these unsolicited ramblings about him. (A/N: I'm also sorry that I've never been asked about Gashu before and therefore don't have an existing post that explains my complicated feelings towards him that I could have just linked here).

Please feel free to disregard this entire section of the post and skip to the headcanons under the cut, if you'd like. 😅 (A/N: This section did end up being a bit lengthy and also a bit critical of Gashu as a character (though I really tried my best to be respectful, constructive, and sympathetic to him). That said, I really wouldn't blame anyone for skipping it as it really is only here for my own comfort level. Thank you again for being respectful of that).

(Warnings: MAJOR YTTD Spoilers especially for the Kai mini-episode. Implied/Referenced Child Abuse/Neglect. Please proceed with caution)

I completely understand what you mean about the Kai mini-episode dramatically shifting your perspective of Gashu's character. I definitely felt much more positively towards him after playing through that and was genuinely surprised to learn that he wasn't nearly as terrible of a parent as I had originally imagined. That backstory really added this element of genuine tragedy and deep sadness to the Satou family and really left me wondering how different the relationship between Gashu and his sons could have been without ASU-NARO's corrupting influence. It also raised a lot of questions about Gashu's overall motivations and his culpability for his poor choices and actions, especially those surrounding his family. Was he being manipulated or brainwashed? Was he just trying to survive? ASU-NARO is incredibly shady and cult-like (in my opinion) so it wouldn't surprise me if Gashu was either essentially brainwashed by the organization and/or coerced into these heinous things out of fear for his life; however, I don't feel like the canon really dove into that enough for me to make a clear judgment on Gashu and his culpability--at least not yet. (We'll see what happens in the final chapter or any other mini-sodes that come out).

Based on this information, my personal interpretation (at least at the time of writing) is that Gashu may not have intentionally hurt his children in the way I had originally expected prior to the Kai mini-episode, but his poor choices (even if they were made for understandable reasons) and his failure to protect his sons from ASU-NARO ultimately did end up hurting them. And what I felt I needed to say the most about Gashu before writing anything about him is that (at least in my opinion) it is a terrible tragedy when a parent chooses anything over the safety and well-being of their children--no matter what the reason is. Gashu very well may have loved his sons, but he let them down in a major and extremely important way when he chose ASU-NARO (and/or himself/his own personal well-being) over what was best for them, and his poor choice(s) as a parent had serious, life-altering (and life-ending) consequences. Even if it may be an understandable choice given the circumstances (perhaps even the "only choice" Gashu felt he had at the time), it is still a very tragic one to me, on account of the suffering it brought to both Kai and Sei. They were children. They vulnerable, and they deserved better. No amount of diminished culpability, love and affection Gashu may have had towards his sons, and/or understandable/sympathetic reasons he may have had for doing what he did can ever really excuse the fact that, ultimately, he failed to protect his children when they needed him most.

Obviously, Gashu is written with a lot of dimension and complexity. In many ways he feels very human in a fact that he is so flawed and often makes selfish choices rather than the harder, more selfless ones. Just as in real life, no one can make the perfect choice or the right choice all the time (especially in a situation as difficult as the one in which Gashu likely found himself); however, while it feels unfair to label a person as "all good" or "all bad" based on their choices (especially without taking all of the contributing factors into account), I think that it is fair to label certain choices themselves as objectively good or bad ones (regardless of the culpability or guilt of the person performing them). In my opinion, some of Gashu's choices were objectively bad, and (even if his culpability for them is diminished due to outside circumstances) there is a certain level of personal responsibility that Gashu has for his actions (I just can't make a judgement on how much or how little that is given the remaining unanswered questions in the canon). No matter his reasons, it was still his choice on at least some level, and even if he didn't intend to hurt his sons, his poor parenting choices had consequences which Kai and Sei, unfortunately, were left to suffer. My heart breaks for them and for this family's situation because the real tragedy here is that a father really let his children down (even if he had understandable reasons for doing so), and, in that way, a lot of the suffering which befell this family feels like it could have been avoided under different circumstances and/or if different choices were made. For that reason (and after taking the surrounding circumstances into account), I think I feel more sad and disappointed towards Gashu than angry. He could have and should have been better.

All of that said, with so many unanswered questions still lingering due to the unfinished story, I really feel like I can't make a clear judgement on Gashu's character whether positively or negatively at this time, and since there are those lingering doubts and since it seemed to me (at least based on the information we have at this time of writing) that he was more guilty of failing to protect his children rather than intentionally hurting them, I have decided to proceed with this ask. Thank you.

In summary, I have complicated feelings about Gashu and am probably not his biggest fan, but he's not on my (metaphorical) "no fly list" either, so I'd be happy to try my best to write these headcanons for you. (I apologize in advance if they are not nearly as good as if they written by someone who had much more positive feelings towards Gashu and/or had been writing for this fandom for a much longer period of time 😅 Also, I'll warn you upfront that I don't usually get asked to write for many villainous characters so these may be a bit rocky, but I really tried my best to come up with something nice for you, Anon-Friend. I hope you will like it 💕).

Additionally, I do want to thank you again for the request! It's so wonderful to have the opportunity to write a little bit about YTTD (especially since I have so much brainrot about it right now). I also really appreciate the opportunity for completionism since I've written HCs about Kai & Sei already so once I write some for Gashu I'll have headcanons for the whole Satou family (except for Ranger, I guess... Does he count? Sorry Ranger)

Headcanons are below the cut! Thank you again for your request! 🥰

Gashu Satou Headcanons

💚-- General

Gashu's favorite drink has always been black coffee. (It’s one of the main reasons he loves Tiramisu so much 😁). When Kai was very, very little (before Sei was adopted), he used to ask for cups of coffee because he wanted to be like his father, and he would often toddle quietly behind Gashu holding empty coffee mugs. Eventually when Gashu began actually giving Kai and Sei coffee, he could tell that they didn't care much for the taste (and, in fact, Sei would help Kai sneak sugar into their cups to make it a little more palatable to two young boys. Gashu pretended not to notice but secretly kept the sugar bowl well-stocked). The boys, however, continued to ask for coffee for the sole purpose of following in their father's footsteps, and though Gashu never discussed it with them, he began making twice as much coffee each morning so there would always be some leftover for his sons.

🖤-- Angst

(A/N: I've written two for this prompt so pick your poison, I suppose😅)

One of Gashu's biggest regrets in life is that he never got to take Kai and Sei on that holiday. Sometimes he lies awake at night wondering if things would have been different if he had.

OR

Gashu hasn't been able to eat Tiramisu since Kai left home. He has tried to eat a slice of it only once after losing Sei and found he could no longer stomach the taste of it since it drudged up such painful memories of his sons and his own feelings of guilt and inadequacy as a father.

[theforgottenmcrmy]

Birds of a Feather (Chapter 1/?) ||| Bradley Bradshaw

Pairing: Bradley “Rooster” Bradshaw x Sam “Merlin” Wells’ Daughter OC

Warnings: Explicit Language, Mentions of Death of Parent(s)

Summary: “Are you alright, Dad? You look like you’ve seen a ghost.” Though his daughter had only meant it as a joke, that was very much an adequate description of what Sam Wells felt in that moment as he fully took in the sight of the young man standing before him.

Word Count: 6700 ish.

DISCLAIMER: Spoilers for Top Gun and Top Gun: Maverick ahead. While I have done some research and was provided a plethora of information from the very helpful and awesome user who is @wombtotombx​ , I have taken some creative liberties for story telling purposes, and as such, this will not be completely accurate in regards specifics of Navy processes, terminologies, etc.

Masterlist /// Chapter 1 /// Chapter 2

 A/N: Hello to anyone reading this! 😊 This is something I’ve been working on for a quite a few weeks now, so I’m excited to finally start sharing it. (I’ve only got four parts planned for this fic so far, with the last one ending right before the events of Top Gun: Maverick, but if there is any desire for me to continue this, I don’t think I’ll need much persuasion.👀) I just wanted to note three things quickly: “present day” is the timeline of the movie, I know iPhone’s weren’t really a thing yet regardless of when this actually takes place (I tried looking for older SMS templates and was unsuccessful, please bear with me and use your imagination😅), and I’ve made our main crew’s ages in the film to be around late 20s/early 30s based on their rank and what made a little bit more sense to me.

If you decide to give this a read, thank you! Any and all feedback is very much welcomed and appreciated. If not, I hope you have a good day just the same! 😊💙

Chapter 1: A Ghost

San Diego, CA

Fightertown USA

Present Day

...

He’s not exactly surprised to see her at The Hard Deck.

In fact, when he strolled through the already propped open and welcoming front door of the familiar bar, took a look around the room, and immediately spotted her towards the back by the pool table, he realized he had already expected it. They’d been inadvertently chasing after one another throughout their careers, after all.

She was oblivious to his presence, smiling and watching the game taking place. Better for him that way- the more time she remained in the dark of his presence, the more time he had to think of what exactly to say to her. They didn’t exactly have the best track record of leaving things on a clearly-communicated note with one another.

But as he watched her smile crack a little wider and let out a light laugh at something someone, whose back is facing him, said to her, he realized that he was just as happy to see her as he always was.

“Bradshaw!” a familiar voice called, breaking his cover and forcing him to act. “Is that you?”

He made his way towards the pool tables in the back, eyes scanning over the other bar patrons along the way.

Though he didn’t mean to, at least not right away, he caught her curious gaze.

One corner of his mouth involuntarily twitched upwards in a crooked smile.

Asheville, North Carolina

11 years ago

…

Gloria Bradshaw sat on her rocking chair on the front porch of her home and watched in a contemplative silence as her grandson made trip after trip from the house to his Bronco. Each time he gently kicked open the screen door, his arms were filled with even more of his belongings.

She had offered to help him, several times in fact, but each time he had denied her vehemently. Whether he was simply being kind, or if he was too stubborn to accept any kind of assistance, no matter how small, she simply wasn’t sure.

Regardless, her grandson made the treks in silence, save a few off-handed small talk comments here and there. It should’ve been an exciting time in his life. Fresh out of high school, he was finally getting the chance to go out into the world on his own. But he wasn’t happy. And she knew exactly why.

Bradley Bradshaw should have been in Annapolis at that very moment. But there he was, packing up his car to head off to a state college instead. It was a decently prestigious state college at that, but not nearly as prestigious as the Academy would have been. His mother had been by the news. Bradley, not so much, and that was an understatement.

Gloria could tell that he was still upset about it, at least a little bit, though he put on a heck of a show of accepting the lot he was given and tried to convince her otherwise. Bradley moved forward with what he thought was the next-best option for him. His mother had tried to talk him out of his backup plan and kill the idea in its crib, well before he had even looked into any specific colleges. And honestly, so did Gloria.

But then she’d seen it. She’d seen the same look in Bradley’s eyes that she had seen in his father’s when he told her of his own plan. And after the woman recovered from the shock, there was no doubt that talking her grandson out of his decision would be impossible. He would be the only one who could deter him from the path he was about to set out on.

The path he chose for himself wouldn’t be an easy one, especially not for him. But what made it all the more sad in the eyes of his grandmother was the fact that he would be starting his journey alone. No father or mother to see him off. Only her.

And since she was limited to a supporting role- though support him she surely would- she could only hope he would allow himself to open up and find others who could be there for him when she could not. She believed he was capable of doing so, but he had shut out almost everyone after the passing of his mother the previous year. It would take time to get him to open up again.

Thankfully, he had his father’s sense of humor and his mother’s thirst for life. Traits like that couldn’t be dulled for long.

Chicago, Illinois

…                                  

“Are you sure about this?”

“... Dad, for the hundredth time-”

“I know, I know. But, just hear me out: you could stay here for another year. You could get a part time job, maybe work on your Academy application for next year-”

“Just to not receive a nomination again? I’d rather accept it for what it is and at least get my start this way. Besides, I thought you didn’t want me even going to the service at all?”

The former Lieutenant Sam “Merlin” Wells sighed tiredly and looked across the dinner table at his daughter seriously. “It’s not that I don’t want you to go into it… But it’s a tough road kid, and a long one at that. I know you’ve got your mind set on it now, but that could change. And I don’t want you to put yourself in a position where you can’t change your mind. What if you do these four years, and then you aren’t even considered for that route at the end of it? You know, they only take a small group of everyone who wants to get in.”

“Then I’ll serve my country doing something else,” his daughter reasoned, as if the answer was simple. To her, it probably was. To him, it was still a concern worth noting. “I’ve got some time to work on some backup options. And you said yourself- we’ll go on a few cruises over the summers. Maybe I’ll find something else I’ll enjoy just as much, if not more. Who knows?”

Sam sighed, and looked at his daughter warily. She was just as stubborn as her mother, he had to give her that. “If this is really what you want to do, then I won’t stop you. I’ll always worry about you, but I won’t stop you… I just don’t want you doing all this for me.”

There was a fine line between having some hope and being realistic, and Sam Wells had always believed he was able to find that balance quite well. Did he believe his daughter would be able to achieve the rather ambitious goal she was setting for herself? Sure. But even getting the chance to prove herself would be no easy feat. She’d be up against hundreds- no, thousands- of hopefuls just like her. And many of them would have the added prestige of coming from the Academy, while she would not. The odds of her being successful were slim to none.

“I hear you, but this is what I want to do,” she assured him readily. “You worry too much about me, Dad.”

Sometimes Sam wondered if his daughter didn’t worry enough. “But do you really have to go to a school several states away to accomplish all of this?”

It had been one last Hail-Mary of a shot, but as soon as Sam saw the smirk on his daughter’s face, he knew it hadn’t been a hit. “They’ve got a good program for my major,” she reasoned. “You know, in case I change my mind? I’ll get a good degree out of this either way.”

Sam sighed. Clara sounded so confident. While he wasn’t sure if it was all entirely warranted just yet, he didn’t want to completely dash her hopes either. She would learn lessons the hard way, that much was inevitable.

But if she was as tough as the Navy would expect her to be, he knew she would bounce right back.

Raleigh, North Carolina

…

Clara Wells slumped into a seat on the first day of classes feeling nearly downright exhausted.

Moving onto campus a few days early, getting settled into the dorm, going through the introductory program NROTC, and the PT- not to mention the 1.5 mile run that they had had that very same morning before the sun was even up- had been draining to say the least.

Thankfully, the tiredness that resulted did wonders to alleviate the first day of class nerves that she most certainly would have had otherwise. The first few classes that morning went by in a flash, nothing but hour after hour of reading a syllabus word for word. And following a break for lunch, there was only one class left on her schedule: chemistry.

“Hey… don’t I recognize you from PT?”

A voice coming from the seat beside her drew her focus away from the window on her other side. “Huh?” She turned, and who she saw almost made her eyes go wide. Thankfully, she managed to keep her composure enough to try and play it off cool. “Oh, yeah… I think so.”

Of course she recognized the boy who had spoken to her. How could she have missed him? He led the pack the whole 1.5 mile run they’d been instructed to do that morning. He had had a commanding lead too- almost as though he’d been preparing for it his whole life. That wasn’t to say the others weren’t prepared- they all had physical requirements that had to be passed before stepping foot on campus- but upon first impression, this guy was just different. She knew that he would be the one to watch.

There was also the fact that he was tall, with sandy brown hair and a dazzling smile.

The boy took a seat at the desk beside her, and gave her a small smile. “I’m Bradley Bradshaw.”

Perhaps it was the exhaustion, or perhaps it was the rather distracting boy beside her, but In typical awkward first-day fashion, she couldn’t help but smile upon hearing the boy’s name.

Unfortunately, he had caught her momentary lapse in composure.

“Yeah, I know,” he said, rolling his eyes, “Laugh at my name all you want.”

“No, it’s not that!” she swore hastily.

An awkward silence fell over the pair.

When the social cues finally clicked in her mind, her gut reaction was a hasty blurted out response.  “...Oh! Uh, I’m Clara… Clara Wells.”

She felt like kicking herself for stumbling over her words, but thankfully, the corners of Bradley’s lips twitched upwards briefly. Though it wouldn’t have been a comforting sign in and of itself, the intrigued look in his eyes made her feel less silly than she would have otherwise.

“Do you know what I think about when I hear the name ‘Clara’?” he asked.

Clara raised her eyebrows curiously, taken aback by the suddenly posed question. “What?”

He grabbed a notebook out of his backpack smoothly and plopped it down upon his desk. “The Red Cross.”

Clara deadpanned, having heard that joke before one too many times, and opened her mouth to retort something about having a name like Bradley Bradshaw instead, but was prevented from doing so by the professor entering the classroom.

Throughout the speech going over the syllabus, Clara snuck glances over at the boy seated at the desk beside her. Most of the time, he caught her apparently not-so-subtle gazes. Though she assumed he was still poking fun at her, the slightly mischievous but also playful small smile on his face suggested otherwise.

For some reason, and despite minimal effort on Bradley’s part to encourage such a relationship, Clara Wells had deemed him as her new friend rather quickly.

They ended up having several classes together, as was the nature of two students with similar majors. She chose to sit by him during their other shared classes as well. He didn’t mind too much at first, but it did mean that they were frequently assigned projects and other coursework together.

And the more time they spent together, the more Bradley began to wonder why he had decided to sit next to her during that first chemistry class in the first place. She hadn’t exactly been easy to miss- being one of only four girls in the incoming class going through NROTC, he probably would’ve been able to recognize any one of them if he saw them on campus. Perhaps he had hoped a somewhat familiar face would be better than a complete stranger for class projects and the like. Regardless, he was also beginning to wonder whether wanting to avoid the awkwardness of working on projects with strangers had been worth the trouble.

Clara talked so much, it was basically chirping. Even outside of the classroom, she would make strong attempts to chat with him during PT, when appropriate, of course, and other NROTC events. She filled any awkward or uneasy silences between them with random comments or humming a few notes of whatever song was stuck in her head that day. It was as though she couldn’t keep quiet, and whenever he was with her, Bradley found it hard as hell to have just a moment of silence to think.

And always, always with those questions of hers.

“So, what made you want to join NROTC?” she asked him one morning following PT. The sun was just about to rise, and everyone had been dismissed for the morning. It turned out that they lived in adjacent dorms, so more often than not, she joined him on the walk back to their respective buildings.

Bradley frowned and let out a short laugh. “That’s a bit of a personal question, ain’t it?” Not to mention an extremely loaded one. “Do you ask everyone about their life ambitions before six in the morning?”

“Only the interesting ones, I suppose.”

“Oh, yeah?” he challenged jokingly. “You think I’m interesting?”

Clara smiled shyly and shrugged.

Bradley could have easily dropped the subject then and there, and honestly, he probably should have, but hindsight was 20-20. “What makes me so interesting?”

“You always look like you have something to say,” she answered carefully. “But you just... don’t. It makes me wonder why.”

Him and her both.

…

Still, despite her shortcomings, Clara was nice enough to him, and sincere. Maybe she could be a little bit annoying at times, but the more Bradley got accustomed to how she was, the less he was painfully aware of it, and the more endearing it slowly started to become.

… Alright, maybe she wasn’t actually that bad.

Besides, she proved to be a hell of a distraction from everything else going on in his mind.

Despite all the fraternization, it took a while for Bradley to really come around to the idea of letting Clara in. They cracked a lot of jokes together, and their repartee was nearly unmatched. But their banter never ran deeper than jokes; he never allowed it to. Sure, she was most likely harmless, and it wasn’t though he was outright opposed to the idea. But it was hard.

He’d had plenty of friends before, but getting uprooted just before senior year by the sudden passing of his mother and moving across the country to North Carolina had certainly put a damper on things in that area of his life. After that, he became closed off, and that was something he could openly admit too. He knew he wasn’t capable of being anything other than his true and honest self when it came to relationships, let alone friendships. And if he wasn’t willing to be that vulnerable, which he hadn’t been for quite some time, what was the point of investing in any further friendships at all if it was just going to be built on false pretenses and inauthenticity?

Besides, Bradley wasn’t sure what Clara was trying to get out of the situation. Friendship? … Something more? Regardless, he wasn’t sure she would be one able to handle all the good, the bad, and the ugly that would come along with it.

To her credit, Clara tried every trick in her book to make him cave and break down his walls. She tried to invite him out for different things, like a football game, or a party or two, even though the latter had the potential to land them both in a little bit of trouble. But he could tell she meant it all sincerely, at least in her own way.

But he could also tell that she was starting to get frustrated. Friendship was a two way street, after all.

After a few weeks, her efforts to get him to let her in were successful, and the walls he put up inside him finally began to crumble down.

…

Bradley frowned in confusion as he began typing out his response.

And so, Bradley Bradshaw found himself sitting in the back row of an auditorium in the fine arts building listening as a choir practiced on stage. He’d lingered in the lobby for a few minutes, but eventually, the singing echoing off the empty halls of the building he had yet to step foot in before that particular evening drew him into the darkened auditorium.

Once the rehearsal was complete, and everyone began to head their separate ways, he spotted Clara. She grabbed her bag and made her way over to him as quickly as possible. She mumbled a greeting and began digging through her backpack for the notes she had promised him.

“So, you weren’t kidding,” he stated dumbfoundedly. “You’re really taking choir, huh?”

“Sure am,” Clara answered, withdrawing her notebook and handing it over to him.

Bradley took the notebook from her hands. “Why?”

“I did it in high school. I don’t need it for my major- obviously- but I like it. It’s a good outlet.”

Despite himself, Bradley smirked. “Singing old Latin songs is a good outlet for you?”

“Hey, it’s a change of pace,” she said in mock defense. “Breaks up the routine.”

A rare moment of silence passed between them.

“I can tell by the look on your face that you’re judging me,” Clara declared, raising an eyebrow suspiciously. Perhaps his teasing had finally gone too far.

“I’m not judging you,” he promised. “… I actually play a little piano myself.”

Even under the poor lighting, he could plainly see the look of surprise that flashed across her face at that information. “Really?”

“Yeah. We had one in the house growing up. I just decided to have at it one day, and the rest is history.”

Why they had had a piano wasn’t very important at that moment. Bradley wasn’t even entirely sure why he had offered the information up so easily. But since he had, it was only polite to see it through.

He could tell by the look on her face that Clara sensed there was more to his story, but thankfully, she didn't press him. “Are you any good?”

“Maybe,” Bradley answered with a shrug. “But that’s not what it’s about. Like you said- it’s an outlet.”

For the first time he’d seen her that evening, Clara actually smiled. “… Maybe you’ll have to show me sometime.”

His quick response surprised them both.

“Maybe I will.”

Raleigh, North Carolina

10.5 years ago

…

Once Clara Wells had “cracked” Bradley Bradshaw, there was no going back. The two became as thick as thieves.

As the floodgates of information opened, it was discovered just how much more they had in common then either of them realized. Similar taste in music- mostly some good ol’ classic rock with just a pinch of some old country and other eighties hits to keep things lively- check. Having a pipe dream of not only going into the navy, but going into arguably one of the more selective areas of naval aviation? Double check. The only difference there was that Bradley was dead-set on becoming an aviator, while Clara was shooting for NFO with an additional huge hope of eventually becoming a WSO.

But then the conversations got a little bit deeper. Both had had fathers in the Navy, and both had been raised primarily by a single parent. Both of them had lofty ambitions and a near crippling fear of not only letting down themselves, but letting down the only family they had left.

Those deeper conversations tended to occur later at night, when all homework and other projects had been completed. The two would often sit in whatever shared space on campus they’d temporarily claimed for the work, chatting about anything and everything.

One night in particular, Clara finally got up the nerve to ask what she had attempted to do a few months back.

“So, why are you really here?”

A queer look flashed across Bradley’s face at her poorly-phrased question. “I’m… putting off going back to my dorm to study for a few more hours?”

“No, not that. Why are you here?” Clara repeated, gesturing vaguely to the space around her. “I just… a guy like you? I have a hard time believing you didn’t apply for the Academy. You would’ve been a shoe-in.”

Bradley’s smile faltered slightly, and if Clara hadn’t been looking at him carefully, she would’ve missed it altogether. “I did apply.”

“You did?” Clara’s brows furrowed. “What happened?”

“Does it matter?” he countered, sounding a bit more agitated, and perhaps rightfully so. “At the end of the day, I didn’t get in.”

It was hard for Clara to imagine that someone like him would have their application denied to the Academy. Bradley took every bit of PT in stride; she’d never heard him complain about any of it once, not even in private. He was crazy smart too- he was an Aerospace Engineer major for God’s sake. Why wouldn’t the Academy want someone as motivated and intelligent as him?

It was silent for a few moments.

“Don’t pity me too much,” Bradley joked, his tone audibly gentler than just a few moments before. “My mom was certainly relieved about it.”

As soon as he referenced his mother, who she had learned had passed relatively recently, Clara knew that his end of the conversation was over. She knew Bradley’s father was gone too, and had been for a long time. Though they were becoming fast friends and the information had been offered up, the details of the passing of parents was definitely not something that either had dared to broach just yet.

“If it makes you feel any better, I didn’t even get to apply,” Clara admitted, pivoting the conversation to a new direction. “Couldn’t even get a nomination, actually.”

That seemed to surprise him. “Any idea why?”

She shrugged. “I used to think it was just bad luck, but now, I’m not so sure.”

“How come?”

“Who knows. But it doesn’t really matter. Lately, I’ve been thinking I was meant to go this route all along.”

Bradley rolled his eyes at her whimsical tone. “And what did your dad think about that?”

“All my life, my dad talked about his career as a RIO. He said it was some of the most difficult years of his life, but also some of the most rewarding. But the very moment I started expressing interest in joining the Navy, he changed his tune immediately.”

“Sounds about right,” Bradley chuckled dryly. After a moment, he continued. “You know, you’ve never mentioned your dad was a RIO.”

“I haven’t?” she racked her brain, before ultimately conceding. “Maybe not.”

“What, he doesn’t want his daughter following in his footsteps?”

Clara laughed. “I don’t know about that, but I have teased him about him not wanting me to out-do him. He was actually supposed to go to TOPGUN at one point, you know?”

Bradley did a double take. “Really?”

“Yeah. But his pilot turned in his wings less than 48 hours before they were supposed to head off to Miramar, and another pilot and RIO got sent instead.”

Bradley pursed his lips, suddenly deep in thought.

Clara was somewhat oblivious to his sudden withdrawal of focus on their conversation. “Don’t get me wrong, I think he would’ve gotten back there eventually, but then my mom died, and he decided not to reenlist.”

“What was his call sign?”

“Merlin,” Clara recalled with a light laugh. “He’s told me his version of why he got that name, but I think he changed some of the details to spare me the truth…”

She trailed off, noticing her companion had gone oddly quiet once again. She looked up from the notebook she’d been doodling idly in on and off again throughout their conversation, and over towards him. Bradley had a strange look on his face that she couldn’t quite place.

“Are you alright?” she inquired.

When Bradley noticed her watching him, he quickly recovered, and gave her a small smile. “Yeah, I’m fine.”

“Are you sure? You looked like you kinda zoned out there.”

“I’m fine, really.”

Clara only half-believed him, but she knew continuing to ask badger Bradley about it wouldn’t get her anywhere good. Instead, she dropped the subject, and another awkward silence fell upon them.

That was, until Bradley broke the silence with a statement that surprised her greatly.

“My dad was a RIO too, actually.”

“Really? What was his call sign?”

Bradley hesitated, but after a moment, he opened his mouth to respond. “It was-”

“Building’s closing in fifteen minutes, kids,” a passing custodian said, inadvertently interrupting him.

The pair muttered a quiet thanks, and Clara turned back to Bradley expectantly. However, he had already begun the process of packing up his things.

He glanced up at her. “Ready to head back?”

Nodding wordlessly, she proceeded to gather her own belongings.

But she couldn’t help but wonder what he had been about to say.

Asheville, North Carolina

10 years ago

…

“Are you sure about this?”

Gloria Bradshaw watched as her grandson began to pack the bags she swore he had only just unpacked.

“Yes, Grandma,” Bradley replied patiently. “I’m going to visit a friend for a week, and then we’re going to head down to summer training from there.”

“And you’re sure she’s just a friend?”

“Yes, Grandma. She’s just a friend. A friend who happens to live in Chicago and has offered to show me around the city for a few days. You wouldn’t want your grandson to miss out on an offer like that, would you?“

Gloria knew Bradley was only joking with her, but her answer was the same. “Of course not. But are her parents alright with you staying there?”

“Her father,” he corrected, closing his suitcase shut and clicking the latches, “said it’s fine. They’ve got an extra room.”

Gloria’s eyes narrowed. “Have you met her father?”

Bradley looked away, preemptively moving his suitcase off the bed and onto the floor. “No.”

Gloria watched for a moment as her grandson fiddled with random clothes he had decided not to pack. He was clearly avoiding making eye contact. “If this girl is just a friend, then why do you seem so nervous just talking about her father?”

Bradley dropped the shirt he’d been holding onto the bed, and finally met her eyes.

“What’s wrong?” his grandmother asked, alarmed by the seriousness she saw on his young face.

Chicago, Illinois

…

“Remind me- what’s the plan again?”

“He’s only staying through Friday, and then he’s going to drive us down for summer training… Wait, why do you have that weird look on your face all of the sudden?”

Sam Wells shrugged. “This is just the first time you’ve brought a boy home in a while-”

Clara groaned. “It’s not bringing a boy home, Dad. Bradley’s just a friend.”

Right. Bradley, the boy his daughter hadn’t been able to omit from a single one of their conversations over the past year, was just a friend. Sam would never pretend to know more about his daughter’s “love life” than she did, but even he found the notion a little bit suspicious.

“Please be nice,” Clara begged. “Besides, I think you’ll actually like him. You two should have plenty to talk about. He wants to be a pilot, and- oh! I almost forgot. His dad was actually a RIO, too.”

Sam did a double take. “He was?”

“Yes. Small world, isn’t it? Maybe you knew him.”

It was a small world, but just how small was it really? Wait…

The soft rumble of a vehicle coming down the relatively quiet streets of the outlying Chicago suburb interrupted their conversation.

“Speak of the devil,” Clara said then, smiling brightly and then immediately leaving the room.

Sam followed suit, but when his daughter opened the front door and bounded outside, he opted to remain inside instead. He walked over to the picture window of the front room and watched as his daughter walked towards a dark colored Bronco that was parking on the street in front of their home. The engine was killed, and a young man hopped out of the driver's side before walking around to greet Clara.

Who he saw made Sam Well’s face pale.

The young man grabbed a bag from the back of the Bronco- Clara insisted on grabbing another for him- and then the pair headed across the lawn towards the front door, which was still open. The closer the pair got, the easier Sam could hear their pleasant exchange.

“Well, here it is,” Clara announced theatrically, walking through the open doorway with the young man right behind her. She turned, and her eyes widened in slight surprise as she spotted her father lingering by the picture window. “There you are! …. Are you alright, Dad? You look like you’ve seen a ghost.”

Though his daughter had only meant it as a joke, that was very much an adequate description of what Sam Wells felt in that moment as he fully took in the sight of the young man standing before him.

“Dad, this is Bradley Bradshaw. Bradley, this is my dad- Sam Wells.”

Sam locked eyes with the young man hesitantly. He was met with a knowing, slightly apprehensive look.

… So, the kid knew who he was.

Sam wanted to kick himself. At some point over the past year, he really ought to have put two and two together. But what were the freaking chances of this Bradley Bradshaw being the Bradley Bradshaw? One in a thousand. No, one in a million.

“Sir,” Bradley greeted carefully, lightly setting his duffel bag by his feet and extending a hand in his direction.

Sam shook his hand cautiously, his eyes not leaving the young man’s. “Mr. Bradshaw.”

Clara watched their interaction patiently, blissfully unaware of anything deeper going on than what she could see on the surface. She turned back to Bradley with a grin. “Come on- I’ll show you where you’ll be crashing.”

Bradley took the queue and plucked his duffel bag off the floor. As he moved to follow Clara, he gave her father once last weary glance.

Clara was on the landline in the kitchen, ordering some takeout food for dinner. In an effort to temporarily avoid the inevitable, Bradley excused himself to the restroom.

As he walked down the hallway of the small home, the decorations adorning the walls of the narrow corridor caught his eye. There was a display case that drew his attention first. His eyes scanned over the contents- a couple patches, a few medals. But just beyond the display case were framed photographs.

Bradley continued down the hallway slowly, eyes raking over picture after picture. Finally, one of the photos made him halt in place and stare.

It was a photo labeled as being of the VF-1. His eyes scanned over the men in the photo until he spotted a few familiar faces.

There was Mr. Wells- “Merlin”, standing beside his pilot of a few years who went by “Cougar”. Bradley didn’t recognize many others by their faces, but if he had their callsigns, he dared to bet that they would’ve rang some bells. His eyes continued to scan over the lines of men until he spotted the one he hadn’t realized he’d been searching for.

There. Nick “Goose” Bradshaw.

After many years, it still gave Bradley somewhat of an eerie feeling to see a photo of his father looking just about the same age as the last time he’d ever seen him alive. Before his eyes was an image of the oldest his father would ever be, and with each passing year, he was growing painfully aware of the fact that a day may come where he’d outlive him. It was a sobering thought, yet he knew his father would have wanted nothing less for him.

Before his mind started to spiral any further into unpleasant thoughts, Bradley continued to scan the photo. He involuntarily frowned at the man standing beside his father.

“I had a feeling I might find you here.”

Bradley nearly jumped out of his skin at the sudden appearance of Mr. Wells. He gave a short nervous laugh before swallowing and forcing himself to regain his composure. “Well… you found me.”

Mr. Wells took a few steps further into the hallway and came to stand beside him. He looked over the photo that had caught Bradley’s attention thoughtfully.

“Your father was a good man.”

“So they say,” Bradley found himself saying, unable to keep his tone from carrying a slightly bitter edge. He cleared his throat. “But, thank you, sir.”

“Clara doesn’t know about him, or that we flew together, does she?”

There it was- the lingering feeling of guilt that had been plaguing him off and on for a few months. It was silly, really; had Bradley been able to finish the conversation that night a few months back, the information surely would’ve come to light by that point. But he hadn’t, and now it felt more and more like he was keeping a secret from Clara. Keeping secrets didn't tend to bode well for friendships… or whatever it was that they had.

“No,” Bradley admitted.

“You should tell her,” Mr. Wells advised seriously. “It’s bound to come out at some point… and when it does, and if she finds out that we both knew and didn’t tell her, we’ll both be in the doghouse.”

Bradley couldn’t help but laugh at the older man’s unique phrasing. “Well, we wouldn’t want that.”

“No, no,” Mr. Wells agreed heartily, chuckling to himself. “... Can I be honest with you, son?”

“Yes.”

“When I first heard about what happened to your father, not a day went by where I didn’t wonder why it hadn’t been me instead.”

“... Sir?”

“Let me explain,” Mr. Wells continued. “I’m sure you know that Cougar and I were going to be sent to TOPGUN. Well… Suffice to say, Cougar lost the edge, with it went both of our chances. So your dad and good ol’ Maverick got sent instead.”

Bradley wasn’t sure he would have used “good ol’” to describe his late father’s best friend, but he didn’t feel it was pertinent to share that opinion with Mr. Wells just then.

“But if it had been me and Cougar, it could have very well been us on that fateful day. And for the longest time, I didn’t understand why it couldn’t have been me instead.”

Bradley remained silent.

“There’s no reason for why some of us meet early fates,” Mr. Wells explained. “It’s not fair, no matter how you look at it. But the older I get, the more I realize that there may be reasons why some of us are spared. Maybe my wife was always meant to go young… but someone had to be here for our daughter. And I guess that someone was me.”

He certainly had not been anticipating having such a high level existential discussion with his friend’s father, but even Bradley had to admit that perhaps the man made some sense, in his own way at least.

“So… you wanna become a pilot, huh?”

“Yes, sir,” Bradley confirmed, immensely grateful for the change to a much lighter subject.

Mr. Wells looked away from the photo for the first time, and Bradley felt his eyes on the side of his face. He could see the man’s narrowed, thoughtful eyes out of the corner of his own.

“... I can see it.”

Bradley smiled.

“Say, are you still in contact with Maverick?”

Bradley’s smile fell. Unfortunately. “On occasion, sir.”

“Good, good. What’s he up to these days?”

“There you two are!”

The sound of Clara’s voice grabbed the attention of both men, and they looked down the hallway to where she stood.

“The food’ll be ready in twenty minutes, so we better get going,” she explained, gesturing over her shoulder with her thumb for emphasis.

“I’ll drive,” Bradley offered quickly. “There’s something I wanted to talk to you about, anyways.” He exchanged a brief knowing look with the man beside him.

“You just drove for hours!” Clara protested. “Let me. Dad, can I borrow the car?”

Mr. Wells withdrew the keys from his pocket and tossed them to her. “You kids be careful.”

By the time the pair got home with dinner, Sam could tell immediately that something was up with the two. The most damning sign that something was amiss- or at least not the same as it had been not even an hour ago- was that his daughter was far more quiet than she usually was. The pair brought the food into the house in silence.

However, while his daughter’s quietness was usually a tell-tale sign that something was wrong, this time, it seemed different. Instead of avoiding her friend’s gaze, Sam caught the two exchanging looks throughout the duration of the quiet dinner, as if there was some new sort of understanding between them.

But that was well beyond the scope of Sam’s duty of speculation. He’d given the kid his two cents worth of advice, and now it was their matter to deal with.

After dinner, Sam excused himself to his home office, while the other two opted to watch a movie in the living room. Sam was no helicopter parent, and the two were- young- adults, but he did keep the office door open to note when the pair headed to their respective rooms for the night.

He must've gotten seriously caught up in his workload for the upcoming week though, and before he knew it, he glanced up at the clock and saw that it was already well after two in the morning. He frowned as he realized Clara and Bradley had never come back down the hallway.

Sam meandered out into the living room curiously and admittingly, a little bit fearful, as to what he might see. Though he wasn’t exactly sure what he would find, what he saw hadn’t even crossed his mind.

As the start up menu music for the movie they’d been watching looped in the background, Clara was out cold, her head resting somewhat awkwardly on the back of the couch behind her. Meanwhile, soft snores could be heard coming from Bradley, who was right beside her, basically slumped up against her, his head plopped down on her shoulder.

Though Sam could feel some protectiveness start to brew, he let it slide. The kid was harmless… for now. And, if he was anything like his father, Sam knew that he would turn out to be a great man.

Regardless of whether they were truly “just friends”, he knew that Clara having someone like Bradley in her life could only benefit her. They both had lofty ambitions of going to a demanding career, and an even more demanding field within that career. If Clara was to be successful, she’d need a support system, and Sam knew he wouldn’t always be able to be there for her. And who knew? Maybe Clara could be a support system for Bradley, too.

His daughter was right. It was a small world. But really, what were the chances of her going to an out of state college, and not only finding the Bradley Bradshaw, but the two of them affixing themselves to the other so quickly?

… Oh well, Wells. Sam chuckled at his own joke as he grabbed the remote and turned off the TV. “Birds of a feather,” he mumbled fondly, taking one last glance at the two before heading to his own room to retire for the night.

Chapter 2

Masterlist

A/N: Thank you so much for reading! Please feel free to let me know if you enjoyed. If you’d like to be added to a taglist for future parts, please feel free to let me know as well.😊💙

[oumakokichi]

So... five years later and Reaching is finally completely finished. Here’s the epilogue.

This story has been my passion project of the last five years, a huge fic just under 200k words and featuring Ouma’s perspective as he tries to find his way out of a time loop. There are massive spoilers for the entirety of ndrv3, so please only read if you’re comfortable with that.

This art was drawn by @ikusabamukuro and posted here with his permission.

I have so many different things I’d like to say, so many different emotions at finally finishing such a huge project, and I hardly even know what to say. I think some time after this, I’d like to talk more about... my personal feelings and the experience of writing this, but that’s for another time.

For now, I’d really appreciate if people wanted to reblog this or share this around with their friends. This is the final piece of the story, but I know there have been a lot of new people discovering ndrv3 lately, and by extension, this fic, so it always makes me happy to see both old and new readers alike. For anyone who hasn’t read it yet but thinks the premise sounds interesting, here’s the first chapter instead.

As always, thank you guys so much for supporting this blog and my writing for so long. Now that Reaching is done, I think I’ll finally be able to come back to writing meta little by little, though I definitely still have other projects as well. My love for this game and these characters is far from over (lmao).

I really hope you guys enjoy this final parting gift with this story, and... I’m really glad if it’s been a fun experience.

[musings-of-a-rose]

Meet the Millers - Chapter 9

Pairing: Joel Miller x Benny Miller x Will Miller x f!reader

Word Count: 2300+

Rating: Mature - 18+ ONLY!

Warnings: Bear in mind the pairing of this fic along with the fact it’s set in a post-apocalyptic setting, so there will be themes and elements fitting the setting. Just like ao3, “creator chooses not to use warnings.” If you click Keep Reading, that means you agree that you’re the age to handle mature themes. Also by clicking Keep Reading, you understand warnings may not be complete in order to avoid spoilers for the story.

Notes: I hit 200 followers and wanted to give y’all a little something so I did a poll and let you pick what one shot I write next. This is what y’all picked! I hope I can deliver. I started this out as a one shot and it MAJORLY got away from me, so now it’s a mini series. Thank you so much for following me and reading my ramblings! Also a shoutout to @astoryisaloveaffair for helping me figure out how things work and being an amazing sounding board, @icanbeyourjedi for helping me to settle on a filter for this moodboard, and @theewokingdead for being delightfully appalled at how many words this one shot has turned into and cheering me on with memes and gifs.

This is set loosely in The Last of Us universe. I’ve only played a bit of the game and watched others play (and the show isn’t out yet), so please forgive any inaccuracies. Also it’s a post-apocalyptic world so I’m taking a bunch of liberties here. Because fan fiction.

Ages at the time of this story (so you don’t have to do math):

Reader: 28

Benny: 35

Will: 38

Joel: 50

*Reader is ethnicity inclusive despite stock photo bias

**If you want to be added to the taglist, join here or let me know!

<<Chapter 8<<

Meet the Millers Masterlist

Main Masterlist

Joel was gone for a few hours before you heard the front door fly open, Will and Benny calling out your name. You come out of the backroom where you store your bag and run down the hall, launching yourself into their outstretched arms. It had only been a week since you had gone outside with Joel, but it felt like months. Latching onto Benny first, you feel Will come up behind you and sandwich you in, the boys squeezing you tight. After a few moments, you tap Benny’s arm and he lets you go as you shift around to face Will, throwing your arms around him as well. Benny copies Will and wraps his arms around you from behind, gently kissing your neck.

“I missed you guys so much,” you mumble into Will’s neck.

“We missed you too, darlin’.”

“So much.”

The three of you start to undress, Will and Benny pushing your clothes off as you try to undress them at the same time. They help you by kicking off their pants as you all move down the hallway, this time to Benny’s room, not caring about the size of the bed. Collapsing onto it, they spend the next couple of hours touching and caressing you, pulling as many sounds and moans as they can from you. You can’t get enough of them, touching, biting, kissing them as if your life depended on it.

And in a way, it does.

After, the three of you get dressed and head into the kitchen, Benny slapping your ass as he moves to help you make dinner. Will comes up behind you and pushes the hair off your neck, placing a soft kiss there.

“I take it you and Joel got along well, darlin’?” His fingers lightly touch the hickey Joel had left on you earlier. Heat flushes your cheeks under their gaze and you find yourself looking everywhere but them.

“I - yeah. You guys said it was ok!”

They laugh. “We did, sweetheart. And we meant it! Joel…needs this. He hasn’t really been…with..well anyone much since it..it happened.” His daughter. The never mentioned mother. Your heart pulls Joel in a little more hearing it come from his brothers.

Just then, Joel walks in and hesitates in the doorway to the kitchen as he sees all of you together, an odd expression on his face that you’re fairly certain wasn’t related to the moment.

“Hey! You hungry?” you ask, walking up to Joel and planting a soft kiss on his lips. Joel glances at his brothers, worry in his features. He nods at you and you turn to add more food to the meal you were cooking. Joel shifts from foot to foot.

“This ok?” he asks nervously.

Benny walks up to him and claps him on the arm. “We already told you it was fine.”

Will claps his other shoulder. “You deserve to be happy, brother.”

Joel gives them a smirk. “I’m not looking at either of your dicks.”

The whole room erupts into laughter, tears streaming down all of your faces as you divvy them up plates of food. Benny takes 2 plates and heads to the table, setting down one in front of Will.

“I’m off tomorrow. Let me cook, Ghost.”

“Oh God please no,” Joel replies for you, Will sniggering and Benny looking offended.

They bicker back and forth for a while, playful chatter and banter as brothers do. You sit at the table and watch them - your boys. This world may be fucked up, full of violence and uncertainty, but you know they have you. And you have them.

—----

Weeks pass in this manner, spending most of your time at the Miller household with your boys. Joel hasn’t joined in when Benny and Will both share your bed, but it doesn’t bother any of you. He seemed guilty when he said he wasn’t ready for that, but you all assured him there was no pressure.

About 3 months after you had returned from the outside, Joel leaves to go on a short run, only gone for a couple of weeks. You had asked if he wanted you to go with, but he told you to stay back with Benny and Will, wanting you to remain behind the safety of the wall.

He came back on time, no complications outside the wall. The week or so after when he was helping to unload the items from the run, he seemed extra stressed - even Benny and Will noticed. That look he had had on his face months ago had returned. He was more distant, lost in thought. Of course he didn’t say anything, but you reminded him that you were all here for him.

One morning, Joel comes out to you lacing up your boots, Benny and Will having left for the day.

“You goin’ somewhere, angel?”

“Yeah - my home. I gotta pick up some things, switch some clothes out, leave the raccoon food. You know - basic stuff.” you look up at him and notice that odd expression returning to his face.

“Joel?”

“Mmm?”

“Are you ok?”

“ ‘M fine, angel.”

Crossing over to him, you place your hands on his cheeks and pull him down for a light kiss.

“Are you ok?”

“I…I’m fine, angel. It’s just…there’s just shit with work. Nothin’ you need to worry about.”

You study his face, not entirely satisfied with his answer but willing to drop it for now.

“Ok. Walk with me for a bit? I need an arm to hold onto. For some reason, I can’t walk right this morning.” You wink as he smirks, light pink dusting across his cheeks.

“I didn’t hear any complainin’ last night.”

“Never.”

Joel escorts you to the first sector checkpoint where he spins you into his arms and kisses you, telling you he’ll see you tonight.

You head through the next checkpoint and make your way down the street, arriving at your building and heading into your place. Every few days, you come back to switch out clothes and gather up other items, not really having a place for your things at the Millers. Today, there was a little market set up, sort of like a yard sale, and you passed by the little vendors, some with tables and some just set up on blankets on the ground. They all had random trinkets and household items, foods that could be grown legally, homemade soaps, and all sorts of various things. You spotted a bag of sunflower seeds and immediately bought them - they were Benny’s favorite and not common, in this sector at least.

Before you headed upstairs to your apartment, you ducked down the side alley to find Pockets who was, as usual, head down in the garbage bins. Laughing, you threw a few seeds on the ground, watching him climb out and waddle over. He didn’t seem to care for the seeds though as he merely sniffed them and gave you an offended look.

“Sorry! I didn’t know. I’ll bring you some other stuff, ok?”

You stuff the bag of sunflower seeds into your pocket and head upstairs into your apartment. Gathering up some new clothes and doing a bit of cleaning, you hum to yourself, thinking about what you would make them for dinner. It’s not that they demanded you cook for them. Hardly. It’s something you enjoyed doing and you definitely enjoyed seeing them taken care of. Your boys.

SLAM!

Your front door flies open and 4 men with masks on enter your apartment. There’s no time to move, to try and escape, and they’re on you. You throw a few punches and they land, uppercutting one in the jaw and another on the cheek. But you know you’re outnumbered and while you’re ok at fighting, there’s no way you could take them all on. Noticing the bag in their hand, you realize they were trying to take you, for what reason, you were uncertain. It’s not like sex was hard to find in Boston - many people needed food and were willing to do whatever to get it, or whatever else they needed. They need you alive or you would’ve been dead the moment they barged in. Raising your hands, you surrender.

“I’ll go with you. I won’t fight.”

The man with the bag hesitates but moves forward, shoving your hands down and putting the bag over your head. He moves to tie your hands but you speak up.

“There’s several flights of stairs. I can’t see where I’m going. Could I at least have my hands to hold the railing or are one of you going to carry me?”

There’s silence and you assume they’re having a gestured conversation while you wait. They make no move to tie your hands, so you assume they will let you walk yourself. The man grabs your arm and pushes you towards your door and you stumble, falling forward onto the man in front of you on purpose, using the distraction to grab the sunflower seeds from your pocket and sliding them up your sleeve. You apologize and they yank you up, but your fingers have already popped a tiny hole in the bag and you make sure a few seeds fall to the floor. They shove you out of the door and down the stairs, making sure you don’t fall.

Once you reach the bottom, you try to figure out where you’re going but Boston is such a maze and honestly, you’ve spent most of your time here with the Millers, so you aren’t as familiar with the section you live in. They end up binding your hands, but you can still reach the corner of the bag now concealed under your jacket sleeve, dropping seeds as you walk, stumbling and being shoved along.

You walk for quite some time, but you can tell you’re still in the city at least. The sounds around you shift, but they bounce off the wall, so you must be near the perimeter. Which means…one of the gangs has you, for some reason. You’re walked into a building and tied to a chair, your hood removed by one of the men in a mask. You don’t bother asking where you are as you know they won’t answer, so you take in your surroundings: the only windows in the room are the ones by the door in front of you. Industrial shelves line the walls with various boxes and parts scattered about. The man that walked you in here has left, but you see a shadow near the window outside which means there was at least one guard.

Alone for the moment, you take several deep breaths, in through your nose, out through your mouth. Judging by the way the sun is starting to set, you know the Millers will be starting to worry soon and head to your apartment to look for you. You pray to whatever is listening that they see your seed trail and follow it. Joel is an amazing tracker as are Will and Benny. If anyone can find you, they can.

A few hours later, a man comes in, tall and muscular, and unties you, gripping your arm hard as he digs his fingers in. You don’t complain but shuffle along with him, unsure of where you’re going. He brings you through a doorway to the next room, dragging you across to another door. He opens it and shoves you inside, closing the door behind you.

“2 minutes.” he grunts at you.

It’s pitch black. Reaching behind you, feeling the door, you follow it up and over to the wall, patting around and finding a lightswitch, praying there was power. Flicking the switch, a dim light bulb springs to pathetic life, casting deep shadows around the sparse bathroom. You use it quickly, thankful for the working water and small bar of soap. You wash off the rope burns on your wrists, making sure the cuts are clean. Just as you turn off the sink, the door flies open and the man reaches for your arm, yanking you out again. He brings you back to your chair and ties your legs to it, but leaves your arms free. He sets a tray table in front of you and another man brings in a bowl of beans and bottle of water, setting it in front of you and walking out, the man who had taken you to the bathroom following behind him.

“15 minutes.” he grunts out at you.

You look down at the food and water. If they had wanted you dead, you’d be dead. They’ve had more than enough time. This isn’t about you being a woman either as no one has even made a move to do anything. Yet, anyway. Deciding it was worth the risk, you eat the beans and drink the water, finishing just as the man comes back in and clears everything away. He ties your wrists to the chair again and leaves the room, standing outside like he was before. A few hours pass before he comes in to let you use the bathroom again, tying you back to the chair when you’re done.

The sun is gone now, night envelopes this…camp? Compound? Whatever it was. Your body is tired, signaling to you that it’s time to sleep. Figuring it would be ok to try and sleep since the same logic applies as the food, you lean your head to the side, knowing your neck will kill you in the morning. You think about Benny and Will and Joel, how worried they must be at this point. Thinking about them makes your heart ache with longing and you can’t help the tears that come, allowing them to fall down your cheeks as you spend the first night without them in several months.

—----

Chapter 10 >>

General Taglist:

@frankie-catfish-morales @chaoticgeminate @janebby @astoryisaloveaffair @balekanemohafe @softpedropascal @greeneyedblondie44 @hoeforthefictional @marvelousmermaid @hauntedmama @giuliarogers-blog @icanbeyourjedi @diaryofkali @sunnshineeexoxo @livingmydreams13 @adventures-of-a-noodle @sara-alonso @theewokingdead @punkerthanpascal @giggly-otter @f0rever15elf @phandoz @dirtytissuebox @jadore-andor @gallowsjoker @lovesbiggerthanpride @sarahmilesbendrix @booksarekindaneat @mrsudontknowme @swol-bear @charlispersonallyhell @xoxabs88xox @amneris21@gooddaykate @alindeluce @avengers-fixation @paintballkid711

Joel Miller Taglist:

@spanishmossmagnolia @xowlan @rosechvnel @maievdenoir

Meet the Millers Taglist:

@miraclesabound @coco-pebbles @evergreenriver @wildmoonflower

[youngcollectedtired]

ᵢₗₗᵤₛᵢₒₙₛ ᵣₑₐdₑᵣ ₓ ₛₕᵢgₐᵣₐₖᵢ [ˢ⁵]

Warnings? Mafia aesthetic?

Pairings? Shigaraki, Dabi, Hawks???

Part 1/?

Quirk? Think Emma frost from x-men.

When Shigaraki becomes leader of the meta-liberation army he seeks allies of anyone he can find. The deeper he dives, he's thrown into the whispers of an all too familiar quirk. Creating a meeting, Shigaraki finds himself facing someone he thought he'd never see a again.

no manga spoilers thanks. note: [did i come up with this because of charlie's angels 2.... probably. do i regret it? not one bit.]

Shigaraki was always eager for new allies. Which is why today he and his league were standing outside a hotel room. He asked them to dress there best, having heard rumors of this group.

He had yet to see a leaders face and that kept him wondering.

The hotel was lavish but no heroes or civilians were seen in sight. A few guards walked by as they made there way up ignoring them.

“Shigaraki? Where even are we?” Toga whined, “and why did you make me put on these pants?“ She pulled on the black slacks.

“We’re meeting an ally Toga,” Shigaraki answered adjusting his red coat. It wasn’t everyday he brought it out from the closet.

“Wow this place is so nice! This is no place for a criminal!” Twice spoke from Toga’s side.

Dabi groaned, "Do we really have to dress to impress?" He pulled on his tie, his throat feeling constrictive.

The door opened, "No you guys didn't," a female voice chuckled, "but I am impressed."

Shigaraki felt his mouth open, partially in shock, "Y/N?" It was woman he hadn't seen in years.

"You know her?" Toga asked, as the female turned to face them completely.

Blushes spread across the group, as her leather jacket split, showing black lingerie. Her heels wrapped around her ankle, with a red butterfly fastening the straps. In her right hand was a knife, that she tossed easily as if it were a ball. She had barely aged.

"Hi shiggy," the girl or woman waved.

The man in question rolled his eyes, "Yes, I know her," he walked deeper into the room, ignoring her appearance, "She and I grew up together," he sighed out sitting down on the couch in front of her. He leaned back and closed his eyes causing her to chuckle.

"Somethings never change," she leaned over him, "You look good."

He didn't bother with the compliment. The others hesitantly followed his direction.

"Why am I not surprised?" He asked relaxed his hand lazily covering his eyes.

She shrugged, "Why don't you introduce me to your friends?"

If Shigaraki were honest he didn't know how to introduce you. Were you his friend? His enemy? His lover?

"This is y/n,” he gestured lazily, “she’s an old friend. There's more of us but they're on missions.”

You laughed, “come shiggy we were more than that,” you stood up now to face his friends.

“Pleasure to meet you guys, please sit,” you stepped away from the couches giving them the chance to sit.

Shigaraki cracked open his eye examining the room, “how long did it take you to build this place?”

You shrugged, “not long. After your master abandoned me,” you sneered, “I had a quirk, no identity and an odd skillset which so happened to be murder. I had to make a name for myself,” you threw the knife onto the desk in front of you.

Shigaraki barely glanced in your direction. The story his master told him was that you’d abandoned him. He’d never questioned it. Looking back it was sudden. For now he’d question her about that later.

Dabi grinned, “I didn’t know shigaraki had friends, hot ones at that,” he smirked looking you up and down.

“Likewise,” you winked.

Shigaraki groaned, “okay enough flirting. Because that’s gross,” he gagged, “moving on. You know what I want. Or what I wanted. So why the secrecy? The games? You could have just met me at my own base.”

You shook your head, “more fun this way. Besides can you really say you didn’t want to get some fresh air.”

Toga bubbled over, “oooo I like her. I like her a lot. I’m TOGA pleasure to meet ya,” she grinned her eyes wide and licking her lips.

Couldn’t tell if it was because you were hot or if you looked like meat to her. Either way you smiled at her. She was adorable.

Twice the man with a mask couldn’t help but stare at you. He’d been silent this whole time. “What kind of quirk do you have? YOU IDIOT THATS NOT A WAY TO ASK A GIRL OUT!” He finally spoke.

Shigaraki’s group had made you laugh more now than you had in your life. You were even more happy you reached out to him.

“It’s called seduce. Well I guess technically it’s illusions but I focus on the lust we all possess. I can create either live illusions or hallucinations of your biggest desires. Either by touching you or focusing on your voice,” you explained, “and because I know your deepest desires I'm also an empath.” You added as an afterthought.

“Illusions you say?” Dabi turned to you more interested than he was before.

You stalked closer to him, now leaning over him you allowed your fingers to caress his skin. It was softer than you thought considering what his skin was made of, “yes.” You whispered.

His eyes glossed over as he fell back, his head hitting the couch. But it didn't wake him. He had a lazy smirk on his face.

You moved to sit between him and Toga who was too busy cackling at his dumb expression, "while he's occupied, let's talk business," you lifted your leg up to rest it on the table, your heels scratching against the glass.

Shigaraki leaned forward, "Go on."

[jungw8ns]

GOING TO AN ESCAPE ROOM WITH ENHYPEN !

PAIRING: boyfriend!enha x gn!reader. GENRE: established relationship, fluff, crack. WARNINGS: profanity (not that much tho), mentions of death (?). WORD COUNT: 100 - 200 each member.

HEESEUNG:

the two of you were so pumped playing an escape room together for the first time that the other people in line had to calm you guys down (which was trully embarrassing to say the least 🤐🤐)

he was looking at the ranking board filled with pictures of players that had succeeded in the shortest amount of time and he just wanted nothing more than to see both your faces on there

but anyways, we all know how competitive heeseung gets 🕴️

oh boy let me tell you, this guy WAS SPEEDRUNNING IT but not the kind you were thinking

the second the timer had started he was literally SPRINTING AROUND THE ROOM LOOKING FOR CLUES YET COMPLETELY MISSING THEM 🏃‍♂️💨💨💨

while he was busy running around, you were picking up the little details in the room and in no time managed to open a few locks

"y/n look i found– oh 😐😑😐"

HE WAS SULKING PLSSS 😭😭😭

when you noticed him standing from afar staring at you with his arms crossed, you called him to solve this one puzzle you already did

*gasps* "oh no! babe i don't understand how to do this, please help me 😔😔🤥🙏🙏"

he had to bite his lower lip to stop himself from letting out that cocky grin but it got out eventually

"oh it's so easy sweetheart, just put this here and then voila! 😉"

when the two of you escaped you suprisingly got to take a polaroid with him home after ranking 2nd in the records

heeseung was the one who held onto it tho, placing it underneath his clear phonecase for safekeeping <3

JAY:

GOD THIS DUDE

THE ESCAPE ROOM WASN'T EVEN THAT SCARY AND YET EVERYTIME YOU GUYS OPEN A LOCK OR A DOOR HIS FIGHT OR FLIGHT INSTINCTS COME UP 😭😭👊👊

"y/n stay behind me >:(("

"um, babe, you do realize that's just a door right?"

"WE'LL BETTER SAFE THAN SORRY?? THE STAFF COULD'VE PROGRAMMED IT TO GROW LEGS?? 😵🧐🧐"

you knew you shouldn't have played horror games with him a few nights ago cause he looked like he was about to lose his mind 😔

you had to shove his ass aside and move on to the next mission cause the both of you knew that he was stalling 🏌️‍♀️

jay was being extra clingy the whole time you were playing, he'd either link arms with you or hold hands (he's literally so adorable) 💞💞

BUT THEN YOU THOUGHT OF DOING A PRANK ON HIM

while you were roaming around the room trying to solve a puzzle, you saw this horse mask on a nearby table

and so you made sure jay was distracted and put on the mask

you could've NOT worn the dusty old thing but where was the fun in that?

"jay can you come here for a sec?"

you hid behind the wall beside the door frame waiting for him to come into your sight and attacked him

now, how about we guess what happens next?

a. he faints

b. he runs away

or c. he slaps you in the face and forces you to buy him food for the rest of the night

if you guessed c then YAY! YOU'RE CORRECT 🥳🎉🎉🎊

THIS HOE SLAPS YOU AS HE SHOULD

"$##/@+(+'£%(:?!!)&£**/*%@"

when he finally takes off the mask like those scenes in scooby doo he's never felt so betrayed in his life

"i- I TRUSTED YOU 😭😭😭 YOU BETTER BUY ME FOOD LATER, I CAN'T BELIEVE THIS, THE BETRAYAL???? LITERALLY UNPROVOKED?????"

he wouldn't stop side eyeing you until you guys finally pulled up on the mcdonalds drive thru

"hi, can i get two um– bts meals please? 😒😒 and two oreo mc flurries 🙄🙄 and also large fries 😐😐"

sane (1/3)

would be trailing behind you like a little puppy (i love him so much 😭😭😭)

he either has his arm linked with yours or held hands every five minutes

JAKE:

really focused on the puzzles he's doing but the second he hears you call out his name for help he's there beside you with the sweetest smile

but anyways, mans was POPPING OFF the entire time you were playing

he was solving problem after problem in no time (he wanted to impress you is why he activated his inner flash ⚡⚡) but he did let you play tho, the last thing he wanted to do was make you pissed at him for hogging all the games

def buried jake with compliments and forehead kisses right after ❤️__❤️

and so the two of you got out in like an hour and a few which you were very proud of

"you were so cool today babe, good job !!"

"aww thank you angel 😊😊"

sane (2/3)

SUNGHOON:

would be linking pinkies with you the whole time, only letting go whenever the both of you had to solve something that needed two or more people

there was this one game tho where he had to arm wrestle this literal hand lever to open the door to the last room (yea...don’t ask why, the staffs were pretty weird 😬😬) 

it made him enjoy the experience a bit more as it was only the two of you playing instead of getting accompanied by strangers

HGAWAHSGDHSGHDA PLSS THIS GUY

“oh this’ll be easy, y/n step aside, i’ll handle this 😏😏😏”

idk if you were supposed to think about how handsome he looked with his serious expression on and his veiny hands coming into frame or be worried for him because the lever was REAL HARD to pull that his veins looked like they were going to pop any second soon, you stepped in and helped him tho cause you were a good s/o <3

from a spectators point of view, the two of you looked like y’all were about shit your pants but the two of you eventually succeeded on beating it, immediately dragging him to the next room which had a sofa in it, laying down to catch your breaths

cliché moment ahead ⚠️⚠️

the two of you shared a few laughs before standing up on the empty space, held hands and started to jump in circles to celebrate your success 💃💃

yupp, y’all were never going back to that hellhole again

very stubborn at first, he wanted nothing to do with the game but then you held him at gunpoint by saying:

SUNOO:

"please just this once or else i'll revoke your mint choco ice cream rights 🔫🔫🔫"

"BUT IT'S SCARY IN THERE BABE :((("

"it won't be that scary sunshine, besides, i'll be ready to 🤜💥 yk?? trust me babe i would never let anyone hurt you <33"

kinda pissed since you blackmailed him into the place and also bc he wanted to play bumper cars and dance mania but he yea he caved in pretty quick 😋😋

(y/n let him play his games in peace tf >:(((( )

once you guys got in tho he realized how normal it was and that it was not terrifying at all

THE EPITOME OF CLINGY OMFG

he wouldn't stop back hugging you and you couldn't bring yourself to push him away to play the games so you just let him walk behind you with his arms on your shoulders 😩😩

(y'all were walking kinda funny but don't tell sunoo that 🤫🤫🤫)

yea the two of you ended up escaping with a whopping 2 hours and a few minutes

but it was the effort that counts so A+++++ for the both if you 😜👍👍👍

sane (3/3)

JUNGWON:

was the one who suggested going, he even searched on naver about really good escape room places to visit and was overall really looking forward it

he liked going to places and having fun with you so it wasn't a shock how his eyes were literally crescents and his dimples were so evident

yea he literally rushed the both of you to the place that you were the first in line 😵

while waiting for the staff to finish setting up he was playing with your connected hands like 🖐️✊🖐️✊ (so precious 💞💞)

"y/n why are you taking so long 😭😭 what if they close and we end up not solving a single lock, hurry up por favorrr 😩🙏🙏🙏🙏🙏"

when they finally lead you to the room he was kind of surprised that they had separated the two of you into different spaces (like the one with txt where they had the answers to the other member's puzzles yk???)

he was locked inside a telephone stand while you were handcuffed in the main room

dw the two of you reunited after a few minutes cause jungwon was rushing his lock to get to you 🤭

you both were progressing at an average pace and it made you guys a lot more closer (not that you guys weren't before but you get what i mean)

after you guys escaped the two of you went to eat curry and talked about the whole experience 😋✌️✌️✌️

this boy literally dragged you in the escape room with him

NIKI:

HE DIDN'T EVEN GIVE YOU TIME TO REFUSE HE JUST 😐👉🚪

"ok masterchefs, in order to test your abilities we must go through series of puzzles and make it out alive, understood?"

he tried ignoring how confused you were and went on to try and get you guys to escape

HE'S LAUGHING AT YOU FOR WHATEVER REASON AND OBV YOU LAUGH ASWELL CAUSE WHO WOULDN'T??? his laugh is so contagious pls 🤖🤖 he was so close to d wording cause he couldn't breathe from laughing too much

yea.. you guys spent so much time laughing at each other for being so dumb at this that you ended up playing 'till closing time

spoiler alert: he fails on doing anything cause the second you made eye contact with him this child collapses 😍🤩

GIRL SO EMBARRASSING 🤡🤡

THE STAFF KICKED THE BOTH OF YOU OUT AND NOW YOU GUYS WERE BANNED FROM THE PLACE ☠️☠️

"haunted house next weekend???"

"BET"

NOTE – god they were WAY funnier in my head but yeah.... i love them so much AND OMFG HAVE YOU GUYS SEEN HEESEUNG’S SELCAS LAST NIGHT???!?@??#?@?!?@ HE’S NOT REAL WTF ⁉️❓❓⁉️

also, idk why BUT EVERY TIME I SAVE A DRAFT the paragraphs get scrambled?? £!?) 6=6) 🤣😂💔💔🤣🤣😂💔 it's so annoying but anyways, ilysm pls stay safe and have a great day <33