#A second healer might have helped | Explore Tumblr posts and blogs

libbybee · 8 days ago

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THE BENEFITS OF CARING — SA.

summary: astarion acts as a distraction, and it leaves him wounded. you’re the only one who can tend to him. warnings: MDNI, female!healer!reader, vampire spawn astarion, shameless smut, fluff, sweet-dirty talk, praise, wounds caring, previous sexual tension, feelings, rain, porn with some plot, first time sex, body worship, bodily fluids, piv, masturbation [F, M], blowjob, cock warming-riding, creampie, overstimulation, aftercare, morning talk. word count: 13,090 masterlist . playlist . AO3 . IMG

a/n: english isn't my native language, sorry if there are grammar mistakes.

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‘He was foolish. Reckless. Utterly stupid.’

Those words spun like a storm in your mind as you watched Astarion dash into danger. All because Gale, with one of his grandiose schemes, asked him to be a distraction—a distraction, of all things. The sheer absurdity grated on you, especially after that cocky, charming smile Astarion showed.

For all his talk of survival and his centuries-old staying alive, he seemed oblivious to the risks he took, as if he actually believed he was invincible. That careless swagger, that excitement in his eyes—it frustrated you to no end. Why does he have to be like this?

You were the only one in the camp capable of tending to wounds after Shadowheart decided to go off on her own because of a disagreement. And he knew it all too well.

He’d charged straight ahead of a group of Flaming Fists, who’d been hell-bent on killing you all after a disastrous misunderstanding. How you’d managed to escape with just minor injuries was still beyond your reach, but one thing was clear: if his recklessness didn’t kill him, you might do it yourself.

When he came to you later, sheepishly asking for a hand with his wounds, you were ready to refuse—but then he looked at you, with that pleading puppy look in his eyes that seemed to make all your frustration melt in an instant… and you just gave in.

You stepped out of your tent, dressed in your camp clothes and carrying a small bag with bandages and supplies. The moment the cold night breeze swept over your face and bare arms, you regretted your clothing.

But you headed towards Astarion’s tent. And as you crossed the camp, the faint patter of raindrops began to break the silence, with cool droplets striking the ground. You quickened your pace; the last thing you needed right now was to catch a cold.

The flap of the tent swayed gently in the breeze as you lifted your hand to brush the canvas aside and stepped in.

Inside, there was a warm setting given by some candles, and the rich scent of Astarion quickly enveloped you—hints of brandy and rosemary. And there he lay, reclining on his bedroll against some plushy pillows, with an opened book resting idly in his hands, though he wasn’t reading. His crimson eyes lifted rapidly to meet yours by the moment you entered, his brow raising slightly in surprise before a smile spread on his lips.

Astarion set his book aside with an elegant flourish, sitting a bit as his hand reached to help you enter in. “Ah, my darling... at last. I was beginning to think you’d leave me alone all nigh—” His words cut off abruptly as your palm connected sharply with his cheek.

“That’s for risking your life like a fool.” You snapped as you sat beside him on his bedroll.

He lifted a hand to his cheek and soothed the stinging sensation, shocked but faintly amused by your unexpected reaction. Before he could even part his lips to say something, you raised a finger to cut him off while dropping your bag on the bedroll with a firm thud.

“Honestly, Astarion, what in the hells were you thinking?” You demanded, already taking a cloth from your bag. You didn't even wait for him to reply and just reached for his arm, where a nasty wound marred his porcelain skin. “Running in like that without a second thought...” You murmured to yourself, furrowing your brows in worry.

Letting out a sigh, you carefully wiped the wound. “What if I hadn’t been there? Or if you’d got ki—” You shut yourself, swallowing down the knot of anxiety that had lodged in your throat since the fight ended. Memories of that night at the Tiefling’s party appeared in your mind—when, just for a moment, he’d looked at you beyond his enchanting demeanour. And how that left you feeling fragile in a way you weren’t ready to confront.

After a moment, you spoke more calmly, “You can’t keep doing this, Astarion. You can’t keep risking yourself as if you don’t matter.”

As you dabbed carefully at another cut, his face tensed in a grimace, and you couldn't hold back any longer. “I don’t care how bold you think you are, Astarion—there’s no excuse for being so imprudent. You’re not some disposable distraction, no matter what Gale or anyone else thinks.” You noticed how one of his eyebrows raised with that glint in his eyes. “And don’t even think about giving me that look.”

For once, he simply fell silent, watching how your hands moved in his arm with the cool cloth with... perhaps an affectionate expression. Then his voice dropped, gentler than you'd ever heard it. “I didn't realise you cared about me... quite this much.”

Your hands froze briefly, feeling a heat rising to your cheeks. You controlled your feelings. “Well, someone has to keep you in line, and I’m fairly certain neither of our lovely friends would be up to the task.” You clarified, somewhat exasperated, but with some gentility in your tone.

You heard a soft chuckling from him, as he was aware of the truth in your words. Gently, his hand reached out to caress yours. “It means... more than you think. To have someone caring.” As your eyes dropped to his hand and then his face, you saw past his charm for a fleeting moment, past his sly smile to the man who hadn't known kindness in far too long. “Thank you.”

Your eyes widened while your cheeks rose even more, quickly looking again to his arm as you wiped another open wound. You cleared your throat. “Just... try not to make me need to patch you up every time we get into trouble, alright? For my sanity, if nothing else.”

He gently caressed the back of your hand one last time before letting his hand fall to his lap. “Oh, and miss all the attention you give me?” He looked into your eyes, pouting a little but taking in the seriousness in your face. “Fine. I’ll be more careful, love.” His voice was laced with a teasing warmth, easing the sting of worry in your chest, making it almost worth it.

The rain began to fall harder, the deafening through of it slapping against the canvas. When you looked at his shirt, there was something about how it had dark patches of blood through that caught your attention. You could almost see the bruises starting to form and the scratches beneath the fabric.

You glanced up at him again. “Astarion, take that shirt off; I need to see what’s under it.”

He raised one of his eyebrows. “Eager, aren't we?” He smirked. “I suppose I can indulge you, darling...”

You gave him a soft smile for his tease, speaking exasperated but amused. “I’m sure you’ve got wounds under there, Astarion. Just take it off.”

His smirk widened, clearly enjoying. “Such impatience... Very well, love. You’ve earned the right to see what lies beneath.” Then he reached for the hem of his classic white shirt, the delicate fabric gathering in his hands before he tugged it over his head in one fluid move, slightly disheveling his curls.

The shirt slipped away, revealing his chest and the sharp definition of his collarbones. The flickering candlelight danced across his skin, casting shadows over the subtle contours of his physique. His movements were unhurried as he was offering you a glimpse.

As he tossed the garment aside carelessly, it landed in a heap near the edge of the bedroll. The air between you seemed to shift. His crimson eyes showed a slight hint of vulnerability that he quickly masked with a smirk.

“Better?” He drawled, his usual charm creeping back. “Is the view satisfactory, or are you planning to strip me further?”

You rolled your eyes, though the warmth blooming in your cheeks betrayed your mock tiresomeness. “Oh, stop. I’m only trying to see how severe the damage is. Not everything has to be an invitation for your theatrics.” With the cloth in hand, you pressed it gently to a scrape on his shoulder.

Trying to focus solely on the task at hand, you tried not to stare too long at the sight before you, but the way you moved closer left a sense of intimacy that you couldn't quite ignore. The quiet hum of your fingers tracing his chest and the lines of his abdomen made you feel the way his skin seemed to breathe beneath your fingertips. And you could swear that you heard almost inaudible sighs from him when your hands brushed over particularly tender sites.

The storm raged harder, hammering relentlessly against the tent as if the heavens insisted on being heard.

The wounds were worse than you thought—a mixture of gashes and dark bruises, a few of them with a touch of infection already setting in. Your eyes faltered briefly when your heart tightened at this sight as you moved from one injury to the next, cleaning them.

Astarion's gaze remained fixed on you, changing between your hands and your preoccupied expression. For once, the usual, confident, and charismatic vampire who normally danced with danger and seductiveness had taken his mask off. Showing the face of someone who, for once, truly trusted in someone else and allowed you to take care of him.

His breath caught when you reached a particularly deep gash along his abdomen, and you had to steady yourself to not flinch with him. The sound of his discomfort sent a tremor through your hands. Still, he kept his endurance and didn't flinch away from you; this only made your chest ache more.

He broke the silence with a low mutter with an odd weariness. “You should stop doing that.”

Your fingers froze, halting mid-motion. “Stop what?” You asked, but not looking up, trying to maintain your focus.

“Caring so much,” he replied quietly. “It doesn’t suit you.”

You stilled, taken aback by his words, before you finally looked up to meet his gaze. “You’re a fool.” You shot back.

He let out a soft laugh, but it wasn’t the usual mocking sound; no, it sounded with a subtle trace of gratitude, or perhaps something far more complicated for him.

“You know,” he added after a long moment, his voice lower now, “I’m not used to this. To someone looking after me.”

You let your hands rest on his waist, looking up once more. “I’m not doing this because you’re special,” you replied with a snark tone. “I’m doing it because you’re an idiot, Astarion. And if you keep getting yourself hurt like this, I might just tie you up next time to keep you out of trouble.”

His lips showed that smile of his again, though more tenderly. “Ah, my very own personal keeper. What would I do without you, darling?”

After you grabbed and secured a bandage around his waist for his deep wound, you allowed your hands to stay on his body moments longer than necessary. You could feel the enveloping air between you; the silence was tense, though neither of you moved or said anything. Astarion's pupils were dilated looking at you, and they held a certain depth that seemed to pull at you.

Your mind was still so wrapped up in the care you'd given him that you barely noticed the shift in your own position until you relaxed to adjust the posture of your body. That's when the realisation hit you like a punch to the gut—you were straddling him.

Your knees rested on either side of his hips, and you could feel the constant pressure of his pelvis against yours in a way that felt far too out of place.

A sharp breath caught in your throat, and you instinctively stiffened while a rush of hotness flooded your chest. Your mind started to race: ‘How long have we been like this? How had I not noticed this before?’ The tightness of your hips against his, the way your bodies seemed to fit together so... naturally—it was impossible to ignore.

But Astarion? He didn’t falter even for a second. His body remained relaxed beneath yours, with some sort of steady confidence, like he had no intention of acknowledging the shift in the dynamic. There was the faintest shift in his posture, a barely perceptible tightening of his grip on your thigh, but it went away in an instant.

“Getting comfortable, darling?” He spoke smoothly, with a dangerous and devilishly enticing tone. His lips curled into that signature grin of his, but this time it was different; there was no teasing edge, no light-hearted mockery. Instead, there was a subtle weight to it, as it appeared to hold more meaning than it usually did.

“I must admit, I didn’t think you’d be so forward, love.” He purred. There was no mistaking the satisfaction in his voice, the quiet thrill touring his body of the intimacy at that moment.

The hand on your thigh slowly slid to your hip, allowing his fingers to linger there briefly before trailing up to your waist. You straightened up immediately, your face flushing while your pulse hammered in your chest because you had never been this close to him before—really close. Too close.

“I wasn't... trying to be forward...” Your voice tumbled, feeling a nervous tension twisting in your gut. Your words stumbled over each other, sharper than you meant them to be. “I was just trying to—”

“Trying to cure me, I know,” he interrupted, his soft chuckle rolling over you like a sensual caress. “Though, love, such a delicate position for a healer. Wouldn’t you agree?” His voice dipped, low and molten, sharpening his smile into something far more dangerous. His eyes were locked on yours, unfaltering, almost daring you to react.

Everything else blurred into insignificance. All you could hear was the erratic pounding of your own heartbeat and his breathing, far too steady for the situation.

“I...” you started, but the tightness in your throat made it difficult to say a word. You didn’t know what to say; you didn’t even know if you wanted to break the silence hanging between you. “We should probably...” The sentence fizzled out, as useless as your resolve to push away the growing tension.

Before you could even think of anything else, the heat of his touch burnt through the fabric of your pyjamas, making your skin tingle in its wake. His hand slid up your side, grazing your ribs and the curvature of your breast with his thumb before setting at your waist to grip it firmly. The way his thumb slowly began to stroke the curve of your waist only made your nervousness get worse. His touching wasn't just casual—it was as if he wanted to test your reaction.

A rush of sensations made it impossible to think clearly, your body betraying you. His posture—his other elbow propped for support—the constant pressing of his crotch against yours, his hand on your waist—it all pulled you into a current you weren’t sure you could fight.

“Go on,” he purred with the faintest hint of mockery. His gaze moved to your lips, as though he could draw out the answer with nothing but his stare. His fingers flexed slightly against your waist, the pressure sending a ripple of heat skittering through you. “What was it you were saying? Something about what we should do?”

You couldn’t meet his eyes, instead focusing on your hands as they rested awkwardly near his chest, fingers twitching. The heat building between your thighs crept upward, spreading through your belly like a forest fire. You felt flushed and shivering, not just from the closeness but from the way he was glancing at you—like you were the only thing in the world worth his attention.

You weren't prepared for this; you hadn't anticipated that the barriers you thought were between you would collapse into nothing so abruptly.

Astarion’s voice cut through your thoughts like a blade. “Are you going to keep me here all night, love?” His tone kept low, almost a growl.

You struggled to string together coherent thoughts before saying something. “I didn't know you wanted... I didn't think...” The words stumbled out again, barely audible as your voice betrayed you.

His smirk deepened, and his crimson eyes held a predatory gleam that made your stomach twist and flutter all at once. “Don’t play coy with me, darling.” His voice was velvety enough to bury each word into your ears. “I know you’ve thought about this—about me. I can see it, feel it. You want this as much as I do.” You tried to look away to escape his gaze, but it was impossible. His eyes held you captive, burning with something raw and unapologetically ravenous.

Your eyes widened as he tugged you closer with a calculated ease that made you perfectly aligned with him—causing your pussy to rub directly on his cock. The feeling made every inch of you stand on edge, your body betraying you with a tremor you couldn’t suppress. Then he reclined back against his pillows more comfortably before his other hand glided up your thigh. “Relax, darling...” He purred lowly, his tone a sensuous command that curled around you like smoke.

You became instantly conscious of the burning sensation beneath you—the growing hardness pressing insistently against your cunt. Your thoughts whirled, panic and desire colliding in a tumult. ‘How did I end up like this?’ But the answer was painfully clear—he had led you, and you’d followed without resistance for being distracted caring for him.

“I... I wasn't planning... this.” You forced yourself to meet his gaze, but his eyes—bold and piercing—made it impossible to hold.

One brow arched. “Oh, really?” He asked sarcastically. “Then perhaps you can explain why you’re straddling me like you are, love.”

His hardening length was impossible to ignore, even through the barrier of clothes, the sensation making heat surge through you in torrents. You swallowed hard. “I… It’s only because you moved me—” You tried to protest, but Astarion pressed a finger to your lips to silence you before leaning in to kiss your neck. “Moved you, did I?” He teasingly whispered against your skin. “Then don’t even think of moving, love... you're not going anywhere.”

Those words echoed in your ears. You knew you’d been fighting with your feelings since that night with the tieflings—when you’d seen him in his tent with his wine focused entirely on you, ignoring everyone else. You’d told yourself it was just the wine, the moment, but now you could hardly keep up the pretence.

For a hesitant moment, you thought about pulling away—but then his expression softened, almost looking if his black pupils were begging for you to stay with him, to kiss him when he noticed your intentions as you stared at his lips and slowly you hovered them with yours; the distance seemed endless.

With a small effort, you leaned in and kissed his lips, and you could feel how he smiled, clearly delighted by your boldness and the way your hand curled at his nape to draw him to you. The motions of your lips were slow, unsure. But as soon as you felt his opening slightly against yours, the shyness began to fade.

His hands clamped on your hips to pull you closer until there wasn't any space for doubt or even space untouched between you, and you could feel him—all of him. The pressure of his cock perfectly aligned with your entrance provoked you to gasp against his mouth; even in the hesitation, he gave you no choice but to lean into him, to crave more and push past the uncertainty that had held you back.

He just seemed to want more, that he couldn’t get enough of you. His mouth felt as if it were burning yours. The kiss started slow and tentative, but that didn't last. His lips grew more insistent as he deepened the kiss, tilting his head and parting yours with ease to slip his tongue between your lips in a hurry. This made you pant by the initial shock of it, racing your heart. Your thoughts began to dissolve, leaving only the moment, and you simply surrendered to the sensation.

The swipes of his tongue weren’t gentle at all. He was implacable, exploring your mouth, moving deeper. His kiss wasn’t just a kiss—it was an invitation, a way to encourage you. And as you accepted, you met his tongue with your own, unconfident at first, but he gave you the courage to match his boldness. Astarion groaned softly, a deep sound that reverberated in your lips, sending an intense pulse of arousal to your pussy.

There was no going back now, and you knew it. This was it—the pull to him, the demand of his touch, and now you could feel the indescribable connection that had been building between you from the very first time your eyes had met.

His lips pulled away just enough to speak. “You’re mine tonight.” He groaned roughly as his hands drifted to the sensitive space between your inner thighs, cupping your pussy and slowly kneading it with his fingers. “And when I’m through with you, you won't even remember what it felt like to be without me.”

Your chest tightened as his words hit hard, but you found yourself barely able to even think, unable to do more than just nod as you looked down at him. Your lips parted while you took your breath, while his hand moved with a voracious elegance, dragging his fingertips along the seam where your trousers joined. The air was charged and burning before he did what he did.

With a sharp tug, Astarion tore the fabric between your thighs. The sound was violent as the seams of your trousers gave way under the force of his hands, almost merciless. The rip clearly was strategic—exposing just enough to reveal what was hidden.

But the regret rushed over you the moment the cool night air hit your exposed area. You hadn’t been wearing any panties, and now, with nothing to shield your nakedness, you felt scandalously vulnerable. You cursed yourself for all the nights you decided against wearing anything, thinking no one would notice. Now, the decision turned painfully foolish.

His eyes dropped, and his pupils dilated further at the sight of his no longer hidden treasure, curling his lips with delight. A low laugh escaped his throat. “Well, well,” he purred, distinctly pleased. “It seems you’ve been planning this all along, haven’t you? No panties? How deliciously bold.”

You mentally damned your stupidity, your cheeks heating in embarrassment. The simple choice of not wearing underwear before going to sleep now felt like an invitation, one he seemed all too eager to accept.

The shock of it left you momentarily motionless and without words, feeling the cool air kissing the exposed skin of your thighs and your core. His hand brushed over the tear he had just created, grazing his fingers very close to where your pussy was.

“I can still see that shy little spark in you, even now.” He talked again, locking onto you. The playful smirk on his lips softened as he watched the blush across your cheeks. “It's almost... adorable.”

You tilted your head slightly, trying to escape his penetrating stare, a nervous pout forming on your lower lip as your hands clutched at his shoulders for some sort of stability. But a sudden gasp escaped your lips when his middle and ring fingers slid between your folds with smooth precision, parting them easily. His fingers let your clitoris be positioned right between both; your sensitive bud responded instantly after so many winters without another’s touch, and your grip on his shoulders only grew firmer.

When they finally clamped on either side of your clitoris, his fingers massaged it with a slow back-and-forth motion, sending an uncontrollable shiver through your bud. Your hips instinctively moved due to his stimulation, causing a soft tremor in your pelvis as the tingling sensation built. The exact pressure he exerted made you melt further, caught in the heat of it and masking your timid instincts.

All swipes of his fingers coaxed your body to react in ways you could barely control. Astarion's smile widened as he enjoyed watching the last traces of your shyness slowly dissolve beneath his touch. Eventually joining his thumb to the dance, finally rubbing directly over the skin covering your bud before pressing down in slow circles that made your thighs tremble against his hips.

“Just like that…” He murmured approvingly. “Feels good, doesn't it?”

His fingers slid forward slightly, pressing his palm against your clit while his middle finger traced the outline of your entrance. The anticipation held you captive, instinctively arching your hips, silently urging him to end the wait. And then, with tantalising slowness, he slid one finger inside you, the feeling both stimulating and exhilarating all at once. The filling was perfect—gradual but firm—and soon, a second finger joined to push in and out without pulling them out entirely.

With each slow thrust of his fingers, his palm rubbed on the skin of your clit, adding a delicious, pleasurable dual stimulation that sent spasms through your pussy, making it impossible to stay still. The strokes were maddeningly controlled, his fingers reaching and curling deeper with every smooth push, as though he knew exactly what you needed and how to give it to you. Astarion’s gaze never left your face, his piercing crimson eyes bright with pleasure, absorbing every sigh and shiver you produced.

“How sensitive, darling...” He breathed softly as he drew closer to meet your lips with his, causing a sweet pulse to your core, intensifying your throbs.

He angled his hand just slightly to reach deeper, and you gripped him tightly. You found yourself helplessly following the increasing tempo he set, encircling his neck with your arms to pull him closer and losing one of your hands in his silky curls.

Astarion's smile turned avaricious against your mouth, sensing your walls vibrate and deliciously clench around him, drenching his hand in just a few minutes. He curled his skilled fingers inside to stimulate a sensitive spot you didn't know was there, just perfectly, his touch implacable against your clit while he fucked your cunt.

Your mouth was being claimed with an eagerness that made your blood boil—he was devouring you in the kiss. His smooth lips moved against yours, insistent and hungry, coaxing you to open for him as he gently bit your lower lip. As you complied, his tongue rapidly swept in, tasting your saliva mingling with his. It was dizzying; your senses flooded with the taste of him and the coolness of his pale skin, creating a high contrast against your hot, wetting pussy and just adding to the sensations.

A low groan gurgled in his chest as his lips pressed harder, the tips of his fangs grazing your bottom lip before pulling back slightly. Just to slam his mouth to yours again with even more fierceness after taking his breath. His fingers curled more rapidly against that delicate spot within you, utterly submerging you in the magnetic pull of his caresses and the incredible hunger in his kiss.

He pulled away, his lips brushing against yours as he did, a soft, breathless hum escaping him. “I wonder,” he began, “how long it will take for you to break, darling.” His eyes glinted as he continued. “But I’m in no rush. We’ll savour this. I will…”

Your grip on him tightened, slightly pulling his hair as your hips rocked back and forth with the pace he set, lost to the growing pleasure he built for you. His touch was relentless, almost coaxing you to the brink, but every stroke was carefully calculated, carefully slow to keep you teetering, hovering in a blissful tension that left you frustrated.

Astarion watched you with predatory attention, centred on the slightest whimper that escaped your lips, as well as that exquisite pussy between your thighs. The very sight of you brought him as much pleasure as his hand brought to you.

Your breathing grew ragged as your body instinctively sought more of the pleasure he promised. The fullness of his fingers, though they were quite close to what you needed, only left you aching for more. You could feel your desire intensifying with every subtle movement, letting your hands drift lower in his chest with the need to touch, to claim him as yours. ‘At least for tonight’.

“Astarion... more, please... I want your cock inside me.” You pleaded, looking into his eyes with desperate want. “Take off these trousers...” You added, letting your fingers trail down his abdomen to where his waistband circled just below his waist, urging him to remove the last barrier between you.

He held your gaze, his eyes smouldering as a slow, indulgent smile appeared on his face. “Oh, you’re even more delicious when you beg...” He honeyed with approval, pulling his fingers out of your pussy and watching with keen interest as you trembled at the loss, the delicate quiver of your hips only adding to the pleasure he found in your vulnerability.

Before doing so, he slowly brought his dripping fingers from your cunt to his mouth, taking great pleasure in licking them clean and savouring the sweet, intoxicating juices made by your body. A soft, pleased hum escaped him as his eyes gleamed with wicked glee as he drank in the sight of your flushed face.

Only then did his hands drop to the waistband of his trousers. He didn’t rush, of course; instead, his movements were maddeningly slow as he began to slide the fabric down. The gleam in his eyes told you everything—he was savouring every second, drawing out the moment just to test your patience, fully aware of how much it would irritate you.

But just before sliding them for once and for all down, he stopped within a second. His eyes trailed their way down to your breasts, marked against the cloth, still covered while his torso was bare since you made him take off his shirt; the contrast stirred something within him. His fingers gently trailed along the fabric of your shirt, brushing down and against the edge, before his hand slid inside to grip your waist.

He looked back up, meeting your gaze with desire and playful intent. “Darling,” he purred, “don’t you think it’s only fair that you join me in shedding the rest of my clothing?” His eyes gleamed as he showed his damned puppy-like eyes for the second time that day. “I want to feel all of you against me,” he added, his tone rich with faked sorrow as his lower lip made a soft pout. “Take it off, my love...”

Oh, this definitely made you smile, feeling a spark of mischief as you looked down at him. You could tell he hadn’t quite anticipated the thought that crossed your mind.

You let your fingers drift along his bare chest again, savouring the coolness and smoothness of his porcelain skin before cradling his cheek, taking in every detail of his expectant look.

“Well,” you leaned close, letting your lips just a few inches away from his. “After tearing my favourite trousers,” you whispered, trailing your thumb teasingly across his lower lip, “don’t you think it’s only fair that you ask me—politely—to take the shirt off?”

Astarion raised one of his brows; his smile wavered for only a moment as he considered your request. Then, his expression softened, his smirk playing again on his lips as his hands slid up your sides under your shirt. “Oh, I see,” he replied smoothly, “you want me to beg, do you?”

You narrowed your eyes playfully. “Yes.” You savoured every single letter that slipped from your lips. “I am dying to hear you beg, Astarion.”

A moment passed before he gave a soft chuckle, and his gaze, brimming with delight and want, locked with yours. “Please, my love.” He said lowly, needy. “Let me see those surely precious breasts you must have. I’ll be good, I promise.” He pleaded sweetly. “Take it off... just for me...”

His words only made you want to tease him more.

The diabolical glow in your eyes grew as you leaned forward, letting your thumb trace the line of his chin. You could feel the light tension in his posture, the way the red in his eyes darkened, his lips parting just a bit as he waited for... maybe a kiss? He wasn't quite sure with you. His hands on your waist tightened to pull you a bit closer, but you resisted, holding him at bay.

“Good, you say? I’d like to see that.” You tilted your head as if considering his plea. “Are you sure you’re capable of it?” Your fingers slid down his chest again, skimming over his nipples with your fingers just enough to provoke him a small shiver.

“More than capable.” He replied roughly for the restraint you demanded of him, but not being entirely sincere.

You breathed slowly as you caught his lie, but somehow, your desire for him only grew, knowing he didn’t intend to ‘be good’ with you at all.

Your hands went down to lift the hem of your shirt, but you didn’t pull it up yet. Instead, you let your fingers there. “If you want it so badly, Astarion,” you said softly, “you’ll have to ask again. Nicely.”

His expression shifted to one of purely wanting as he tightened his hands on you. “Please, my love,” he replied in a low tone. “Take it off.”

Finally, you slowly lifted your shirt to reveal your torso and the defined curves of your breasts, drawing the fabric over your head to set it aside on his bedroll and finally being completely naked to his eager stare. Astarion’s eyes glistened with a glow that spoke volumes as he devoured every detail of your flushed skin like a long-awaited treat. You couldn’t help but arrange your hair and adjust your bracelets; you felt a mix of nerves and exhilaration at his intense attention.

Astarion’s hands reached for your breasts with a speed that almost startled you, sinking his fingers into your supple flesh as he kneaded it and leaned forward. His lips found one of your nipples, capturing it along with a portion of your breast, sucking passionately before planting a warm kiss above your nipple. He repeated on its twin, savouring your body before finally looking up; the surprise etched on your face, the blush on your cheeks, and the widening of your eyes seemed to light pride in his gaze.

Astarion revelled in the comfy warmth of your flesh under his cool hands as he continued to knead and massage your breasts as thoroughly as it was slow. Trailing his lips down to run messy kisses along your sternum before returning to one of your breasts once more. He opened his mouth, homely, to get your flushed breast inside, sucking it and swirling his tongue around it, rumbling an eager hum. His hands went to your waist and your other breast to take care of it too, holding you as you leaned against him with a soft moan escaping your lips. He seemed almost like a starved child desperately seeking milk from his mother's breast.

After a long, leisurely moment, he pulled away with a final and slow brush of his tongue over your nipple; his lips glistened with saliva from his attention. A desire that seemed to consume him was burning in his eyes, and when they met yours, a slow smile spread across his face. “You know,” he murmured, “I could lose myself in you like this, so easily.” His fingers slowly contoured your waist. “But I’ll need more than just this beautiful view.” He leaned in to graze his lips on your ear and whispered, “Imagine, darling, how it’ll feel when I’m deep inside you—how I’ll make you forget everything else, until all you can think of... is me.”

Your body received a delicious tremble, an almost inaudible moan escaping your lips because of the intensity of his voice saying those words to you. Your fingers tangled in his hair to pull him closer, feeling yourself getting wetter. The simple thought of him inside you, fucking you until your legs couldn't respond any more, grew your pulse faster.

As his hands wandered lower, the ache between your thighs grew unbearable—the need to have his cock growling in your throat; you could barely stand it. Impatiently, you moved to straddle his thighs, finding with your hands his waistband.

“I need you, Astarion.” Your plea spilt out unprocessed, begging for him to end the teasing and give you what you craved. “Please take them off. I can’t wait any longer. Finish what you started.” The final word fell from your lips almost like a cry, leaving no doubt that you were beyond ready, beyond wanting. You needed him—now.

Astarion chuckled as he looked at your hands, tracing his abdomen. He laid back slightly against his soft pillows, clearly enjoying how you were so eager for him, but he didn’t move anyway. Instead, his eyes flickered to your fingers as they were about to start tugging his waistband, and his lips curled up.

“Please, Astarion.” You pleaded again. “I can't take it any more. Stop teasing me. Take them off. Please.”

He hummed, amused, with a wicked glint in his crimson eyes. “Ah, so desperate, are we?” His eyes slid downward, pausing to take in the way your pussy soaked through his fabric, already dripping as you set yourself on his thighs. “Look at that sweet little cunt of yours, dripping for me already.” As soon as he finished speaking, he let out a soft chuckle. “Can’t wait to feel me inside, I see.”

You furrowed your brows in some annoyance at his incessant chatter that only made your patience thinner. But then, his demeanour shifted nonchalantly, capturing your attention when he propped his hands up on the bedroll and lifted his pelvis fluidly, giving you room to slide his trousers out of his legs.

“Help yourself, darling.” He purred softly with that grin—the one he wore all the time—on his lips.

You couldn’t stop yourself from glancing down, captivated by his posture. When your eyes fell to his crotch, where your hands had settled either side, you saw the clear shape of his rigid cock outlined beneath the fabric, straining against the material and angled a little to one side. The thickness and length were evident, making your entrance painfully clench around nothing and heat your cheeks.

‘How didn't I look at it before?’ Your breath hitched at the graphic, raw sight of it—exquisite and so irresistibly tempting. The aching sensation in your pussy grew, not just from the visual but from the rush of desire that quickly followed. Despite yourself, your eyes went back to his face, finding that same teasing, excited expression as though he were daring you to take the next step.

As you began to slide your fingers inside the waistband of his trousers, you brushed lightly his skin, sending a shiver to your fingertips.

And then, pulling his trousers down, you slowly revealed more inches of his pelvis and his white curls, and you could feel his intense gaze smouldering into you. His cock twitched against the fabric, building your excitement until it sprang free, making you inhale sharply at the sight. Your eyes traced his exposed skin as you slid the fabric the rest of the way down his legs. A soft rustle marked their removal from his ankles, and he lay naked before you.

His erect length was blushed and visibly soft, with subtle veins running up from its base, contrasting sharply against his swollen, rosy head. The pale expanse of his skin was almost luminescent; only the tip of his cock seemed all the more vivid. And there was precum already seeping from its slit, a trail that slid down to his sac.

For a brief, delicious moment, you simply stared. The long shape with a slightly tapered head was just stunning, and it made you realise just how perfectly he would enter and fill you. You couldn’t help but let your fingers drift to your clit, stimulating lightly to ease the relentless ache building. The wet heat spread between your thighs, growing stronger as you took in every detail.

A subtle sigh left your lips, caused by the strong beating of your puffy bud against your fingers. You traced the ridges of his hips with the other hand before brushing over from the base to the tip of his cock. It was warm, soft but firm with the ridges of its veins, and the precum that gathered there only added to its silkiness.

Your mind raced with thoughts you hadn’t fully allowed yourself to process—how new this was, how thrilling and unfamiliar it felt yet so drawn by it. Astarion was nothing like the lovers you had before. You didn’t have a long list of conquests, and that made your inexperience clear. But the way he looked at you and how his moves commanded every piece of your attention drew you deeper into something you were both eager and frightened to experience.

Without thinking any longer, your hand wrapped around the base of his cock, feeling its thickness as you slowly began to stroke him in sync with your own stimulation, smoothing with your thumb the head with each pass. His lips allowed a low, appreciative sigh to escape him, sending a wave of emotion through you and racing your pulse. And with one final glance up at his face, you slowly positioned yourself between his thighs to lay down and let your stomach rest on his bedroll.

As you let your lips hover near the tip of his cock, you could feel the heat radiating from him and smell the intoxicating scent of his arousal as he smelt yours. You could almost drool at the sight before you—how you see the shift in his expression—from humour to impatience. The anticipation was exhausting for both of you, but you didn’t rush. Instead, you kissed the tip tenderly, feeling the weight of him against your lips before letting your tongue slip out where his glans started to the high point. Tasting the warmth and saltiness of his cock because of his precum.

You felt the coolness of the storm kissing you and of the bedroll beneath your stomach, grounding you as your hands remained on him, steady and assured. Astarion’s thighs tensed under your touch, caught between the impulse to take control and the pleasure of simply letting you explore at your own pace.

Each time your thumb swept over his tip, his cock twitched, responding to the rhythm of your touch and your lips. You swirled your tongue around his head, licking clean the precum that had gathered there and along his length. The taste was different than you expected—rich and heady, like a Vermentino wine, lingering on your tongue in a way that was both unexpected and deeply intriguing.

The low sounds slipping from his lips spurred you on as you pressed messy kisses to his length and tip, tracing with your tongue the subtle lines and ridges of his shaft. His sharp intake of breath told you just how deeply he felt every small touch, and the sheer pleasure in that knowledge emboldened you further.

“Mm, look at you,” he purred, honestly surprised and pleased. “Not so shy now, are we, darling?” His words were meant to tease as always, but the note of admiration was unmistakable, making clear just how captivated he truly was.

Your eyes met his quietly before slowly lowering your mouth to take him inch by inch. The stretch of him filled your cavity as you went deeper, feeling his rigidity slide against your tongue. You let inside more of him until you felt his tip reach the back of your throat and the hair on his pelvis brushing your nose. His reaction, the involuntary twitch, and the low hum from him sent a thrill through you as you adjusted him inside your mouth, savouring the moment.

As you set a slow up-down with your head, Astarion’s lips started to make soft, broken sounds that were like a lyrical to your ears, urging you to continue. His hand reached out to rest on the back of your head, his fingers threading into your hair as he let out a silent growl. The anxiety in his grip was obvious, yet he kept his touch gentle, guiding without forcing and letting you take the lead, trembling under your care.

You slid your hands down his thighs, feeling the taut muscles beneath your fingers and feeling how his body responded to you. Each time you drew him deeply, your tongue caressed his lower vein, lavishing attention on every inch of him that his cock met with an appreciative palpitation.

Astarion moaned, his head falling back against the pillows. “Slow down, my love... Let me enjoy this.” He breathed as he allowed you to fully take him, his hips flexing slightly. His fingers tightened slowly in your hair, a silent encouragement for you to continue as he gave himself completely over to you.

With one hand still supported on his thigh, you drifted the other to his sac to massage it gently inside your palm. The action caused a louder moan from him, his hips jiggling involuntarily as you kept your mouth moving steady and more slowly, never breaking your rhythm. His low groans came quicker and even rougher, sounds of pleasure spilling freely now like an invitation to go on, filling the tent and dispersing the strong rain outside.

He moved his hand from your hair to your cheek and stopped you momentarily, cradling it in a surprisingly tender gesture as he glanced down at you. “Look at me while you do it, my darling...” He sighed, gently caressing you. “Feel how hard you make me...” His head fell back once more, unable to hold back a guttural growl as you continued with an intensified sucking, feeling his cock pulse and grow impossibly hard against your tongue.

With a measured squeeze, you tightened your grip on his sac, rolling it delicately with your fingers while your other hand remained anchored on his thigh. They trembled involuntarily, just like his cock, each movement drawing a delicious reaction until he could no longer keep still, his hips instinctively arching towards your mouth.

His hand returned to the back of your head, gripping tightly as your tongue traced the underside of his cock. All of him seemed to shiver under your touch, and he still allowed you to take control, guiding him into this sweet, little death.

But, after a few moments, you let his cock slip free from your lips with a slow drag, watching it emerge slick in your saliva and instantly cling to his lower belly because of its hardness. The dampness left a glistening trail between your mouth and him, breaking only as you leaned back, lifting a hand to wipe the last of the moisture from your mouth. He let out a disappointed sigh at the loss of you, then looked down to watch how you had left him all reddish-coloured with a sheen because of his precum mixed with your saliva.

Without a word, you rose on your knees and moved to straddle his hips, feeling the firm press of his thighs beneath your ass cheeks as you settled your weight onto him. His hands instinctively moved to your waist, gripping your sides in a way that felt almost impossible to avoid.

You could feel the hardness of his cock pressing between your folds—a solid, delicious presence. Each pulsate of its head against the own palpitations of your puffy bud felt incredible.

Bracing your hands against his chest, you pressed down gently and took a moment to enjoy the feel of him, tracing the lines that defined his chest with your fingers. His eyes were locked on you, watching the way your pussy just wrapped around his cock.

Gradually, you began to move your hips, grinding down your clitoris onto his glans with a slowed tempo that turned faster. The friction was amazing as you brushed against his slick skin, adding a sensuous layer of lubrication as you moved back and forth against his perfectly nestled cock. You could feel yourself drenching him wetter, mixing your juices with the slickness left from your previous oral.

His hungry gaze roamed over your pelvis, tightening his grip on your waist as he let out a rough sigh, savouring the way your pussy slid so enticingly along his shaft until you leaned forward. Repositioning your weight on one hand, you reached down to trace your fingers along his length, wrapping around it to guide it upwards. You pressed the tip on your entrance, dragging it slowly along your slit, feeling it start to pulse against your inner lips. His lower lip formed a slight pout as you continued to tease, drawing the moment out with almost cruel patience.

But with a final pass, you positioned him straight to your entrance, vacillating just on the edge, and looked at his face to watch his reaction—the way his eyes were focused on your pussy, waiting for you to cut the last bit of separation. Then, with a slow downward, you began to sink him inside, feeling the exquisite stretch his tip made as he filled you, inch by inch, making your walls instantly clench around him for the sudden fullness.

He let out a pleased moan, now holding harder your hips as you settled onto him completely, feeling so deep and stretching you deliciously wide after so many years of solitude. The warm pulse of him between your walls, every subtle movement of his length—an insistent throb—made you simply sit there for a moment. Letting yourself adjust to the sensation of him fully within you and the friction of your clit as it rubbed against his silvery pubic hair. He flicked up his eyes to meet yours with an intensity that made his eagerness clear as he waited for you to move.

You gently cupped his face and caressed his pointy ear, the other hand resting over his shoulder. You softly brought his face closer to yours, locking your eyes on his.

“Astarion...” You whispered. “Can you feel it? How incredible this is?” You gave him a dulcet smile before closing the distance, pressing your lips against his as you traced the line of his cheekbone and chest, feeling his pulse beneath your fingers.

Gently, you lifted yourself just slightly to sink back down, the exquisite friction sending a burst of pleasure through both of you. Astarion’s grip on you tensed again, tightening as his hips surged up to meet yours, letting out a low, throaty noise. Your lips remained together, deepening the kiss as your mouths moved in time with your bodies, setting a slow, constant pace where you rose and fell smoothly over him.

The sounds of your bodies intertwined moving together began to fill the surrounding little space—the slapping of skin on skin, the lewd, sensual noises of your pussy swallowing his cock over and over again blending with the muffled moans, and the relentless raindrops against the canvas.

He forcefully gripped your hips to dictate you, abruptly being the one controlling the pace as he broke the kiss to catch his breath. His lips hovered close, both hot exhales mingling as you rested your forehead against his, matching your rhythm. The tantalising climax drew closer and closer with every thrust, making everything else seem distant, the storm outside being insignificant compared to the tempest building between you.

His hands roamed over your body, tracing your spine before one circled your waist and the other gripped the back of your shoulder to pull you closer, urging you to press down against him more fully.

The deeper you sank, the more you felt him smack against your vaginal walls so passionately. You leaned forward, your hands wrapping either side of his waist and slightly digging your nails into his skin as you picked up the pace. The position shifted just enough to drive him pleasantly deeper in each downward stroke, with a perfect angle that made his tip hammer against your cervix.

Suddenly, the hand against your shoulder gripped your cheeks, pulling you down to capture your lips in another hungry kiss. His tongue tangled with yours, both tasting the other's mouth, becoming something truly addicting, as if he just seemed to want to devour you whole, and you couldn't satisfy your own craving. His hand slid to your nape as the kiss deepened, just like the rhythm of both pelvises grew faster.

Every thrust proved how he was losing himself, both of you spiralling higher and higher. He whimpered against your lips, a sound that vibrated deep in your mouth, feeling the tension coiling tighter within your lower belly, your body feeling worn out as it yearned for release.

His hands were everywhere—guiding, pulling, encouraging. You couldn’t help but moan against his lips, the pleasure overwhelming as your movements grew more frantic. He was holding you just right, pressing his open thighs up against your ass cheeks, lifting you just enough to make you feel perfectly aligned with his cock.

His lips parted from yours with a shaky groan as he looked up at you, consumed by the burning need you were becoming. At that moment, with the weight of your hips moving over his, your voice came out shaky, broken by the effort of holding yourself glued to him. “Am I... am I doing it right?”

The question left you trembling because of its vulnerability, making your pulse race as though the very act of asking had laid bare everything you hid beneath that little girl you were for him. You felt so desperate for his confirmation, for him to tell you that this was all he wanted.

For a moment, he looked as if he was caught off guard, eyes widening just a fraction before he composed himself.

Then his hands tightened his grasp on both your ass cheeks with determination. He pressed your hips down more strongly, making his cock burry inside you to the hilt and making your lips crush against his pelvis. “Do you feel that?” He kept pressing you down harder, grinding his hips up to meet yours. “You have no idea what you’re doing to me, and it’s perfect. Move just like that—don’t stop.” The words slipped out raw and unfiltered, as if he couldn’t hold them back.

The way he said that broke whatever fragile restraint you’d managed to hold onto, unleashing a fierce, unstoppable heat within you. The only thing that existed now was him—all of him—buried balls deep inside you, turning every nerve in almost an animalistic way.

An uncontrollable need surged through you, overtaking all thoughts, as your hips immediately started to move impulsively, slamming down against his. Your body was just demanding to take everything from him, driven by a thirst he had created that couldn’t be denied. The ache of his cock stretching your entrance open and filling you that much was the divine sensation of him, the incredible pleasure of his flawless body moving exactly in time with and inside yours.

You were in pursuit of more—more of him, more of this satisfying connection. You let out a series of desperate moans, each one of them spurring you both deeper into your carnal urges, neither of you able to stop. The immediateness of it overtook you both. Your breathing was ragged as the intense pressure built, feeling him fully as he lifted his hips to force his cock impossibly inside you, aligning you just right, so deep that you could feel it in your very bones. The edge of your release was so close.

His hands dug into your ass, pulling you more forcefully against him to guide your frantic pace and stoke the fire on your clitoris as his pelvis writhed beneath it. “Just a little more...” He growled, strained, like a man on the edge of breaking. “I’m so close, love…” His words were almost a pleading cry, a raw reflection of the need that overtook him because of you.

You could feel it, see it—his control slipping away, his body trembling beneath yours as his hands gripped your hips now to urge you on, both bodies acting just like animals in heat do with an almost agonising intensity that could leave your womb aching for days. You both moved harder and faster, slapping together with an unbreakable pace. The pressure in your core was unbearable now, so close to snapping that it made your legs shake in both of the sides of his hips with the effort of holding on.

Suddenly, one of his hands slid between your bodies, finding your clitoris to circle his thumb over the painfully swollen nub with expert knowledge. Just like if he was already aware of how to trigger your sensitive spots to push you to the heavens. The friction was impossible to bear in the best, perfect possible way, making you cry in pleasure, unable to control the whimpers that tore from your throat.

You couldn’t hold back any more. His touch, the pressure, the movements of his body—it all became too much. The tension inside you snapped, and with a loud and uncontrolled moan, your walls tightly clenched and pulsated around him, your climax crashing over you in pure, consuming pleasure. Hitting you so hard that you felt like you were floating, holding on to him with the tremors of your hips.

But Astarion didn’t stop. He never ceased the maddening stimulation on your clit or fucking your cunt, coaxing another renovated sensation from you, pushing you past the point of stimulation. You tried to pull away to catch your breath, but his hands clamped down, forcing you to stay in the moment, allowing him to draw even more from you. He was relentless as the need to overstimulate you took control.

“Don’t stop, not now.” He gasped, his voice breaking as he thrust up into you harder, his thumb continuing to rub and circle your bud, trying to force your body into another climax. “I need you, my love. Please…”

The words were the spark that made you give in with a desperate cry as ecstasy crashed over you, smashing everything. You felt him pulsating and releasing with a ragged, almost feral growl, leaving his sweet lips, his body quivering beneath yours as he exploded into you, the rush of his climax pushing you to the edge. The sensation of his warm semen spurting against your cervix and filling you sent you into your second release of the night, the new pressure in your body finally exploding in waves of sheer. The powerful sensations of both of you reaching that peak at the same time made your vision blur.

Every spurt of his release throbbed deep within your womb, drawing low, tired moans from your lips as his cock continued its task to fill you, spreading his seed inside you with each pulse of the head. You pressed your hips down, grinding to take him impossibly deeper as your labia were already crushed against his damp pelvis, letting you feel every twitch and tremor between your aching walls. He groaned softly as he tightened his grip on your hips, and you fucked his cock instinctively in answer to coax out every last shudder from him.

His hands guided your hips to keep you pressed down hard as his cock stroked every sensitive inch of your walls, filling you in a way that made some of his cum slowly spill out from your pussy. Your bodies met again and again, making him feel unable to resist the pull of you as you moved perfectly up and down, simply feeling lost in you as you milked him.

Then, you both collapsed together, sweaty bodies shaking with the intensity of your simultaneous culmination and the aftershocks of your climaxes, leaving you both drained. Your breaths came intermittently, laboured, and it felt as though the camp outside had momentarily ceased to exist. The air between you was impregnated with the smell of sex and your scents, but there was also something tender about the way your bodies were embracing each other that made you feel... nice.

Astarion’s hands moved with a strange gentleness now, gliding up your back with soothing strokes in the cosiness of the moment. His lips pressed a tender kiss to your cheek, his breath still unsteady with a warmness that contrasted the freshness of your lovemaking and the way his cock kept pulsating while softening within you.

He dragged you against him. “Are you alright, darling?” His voice abruptly soft, touched with... care, concern; an unknown tenderness that caught you by surprise.

You nodded against his shoulder. “Yes…” you murmured, fluttering closed as exhaustion settled in and the comfort of his presence lulled you, feeling his quick heartbeat beneath your ear. “Just... give me a second.”

A sweet smile tugged at the corner of his lips, looking at you with adoration as he brushed a damp lock of hair away from your face, fingers running gently over your neck. “I’ll admit, I didn't think I’d be the one left wanting more… but here I am.” He said quietly. “That, my love, was truly something else for someone so lovely.” He pressed another sweet kiss to your cheek, remaining just a little before pulling away.

You let out a shaky laugh, the closeness between you both grounding your still-tingling nerves. Lifting your head slightly and reopening your eyes, you met his gaze with a warmth that made your heart swell. “You know,” you started, “I might just have to keep you around a little longer. You’ve made it hard for me to want anyone else, Astarion.” You reached to cradle his cheek as your hidden confession floated in the air between you.

He leaned into your touch, his hand hovering over yours in a loving gesture. “You’re really going to make me do this, aren’t you?” Astarion said, feigning frustration, though his eyes softened with a rare sincerity in his voice. “I had plans, you know. But it seems I’m not allowed to have anything for myself any more.” He let out a mock sigh. “Guess I’m yours, darling. For now. Don’t get too comfortable with it.”

You smiled softly, tilting your head. “Oh, how tragic,” you teased with mock frustration as well. “I didn’t realise you had such grand plans, Astarion. How terribly cruel of me to steal you away from them.” Your fingers gently traced the edge of his ear, a smirk playing on your lips. “Don’t worry, I’m sure you’ll learn to live with it. Just try not to get too comfortable, either, darling.”

Astarion let out a soft chuckle, his fingers leaving your hand to cup your cheek tenderly. “Well, well, what a vile little thing you are,” he said with a playful smirk, grazing your cheekbone with his thumb. “Using that sweet face of yours to get your way... You really do enjoy this, don’t you?” His laugh was light, almost like a caress, before he leaned down, pressing his lips to yours in a slow kiss that left you aware of all the emotions he couldn’t express using words.

He held the kiss for a moment to savour your lips before pulling back to rest his forehead against yours, closing his eyes as he basked in the shared closeness.

After that, he slowly adjusted your position so that you lay more comfortably against him. Once settled, he pulled a soft blanket over you both, wrapping his arms around you snugly.

“Rest now, my love.” He murmured softly. You felt his words settle over you like a soft lullaby, and you snuggled closer to place yourself against him, wrapping your arm gently around his waist.

There, in his embrace, you let yourself fully relax in the quiet comfort of the moment with the rain outside. The feeling of his skin against yours, the steady rise and fall of his chest beneath your cheek, the gentle sweep of his fingers through your hair and your arm—it was everything you needed, a perfect, tender end to the passion from minutes ago.

With a contented sigh, you pressed a soft kiss against his chest before your eyelids started to grow heavy as you drifted into a peaceful calm in his arms.

As the hours passed, the heat of the night slowly faded, leaving you both tangled in each other’s embrace. You both drifted into sleep, your bodies still flushed and sweaty from the intensity of your passion that night. Astarion’s arm was wrapped around you, pulling you closer. The odd warmth of his body against yours was comforting.

As the soft light of dawn filtered through the tent, the storm was now nothing more than a distant memory, and a sudden weight pressed down on you.

Your mind, still slow to fully wake, started to be flooded with vivid recollections—the sex, the words shared, the undeniable connection you felt...

A sharp pang of awareness hit you as you became acutely aware of every quiet sound. 'Had I really just done that?' The question lingered in your mind, though it wasn’t that you regretted it—not with him, not when everything felt so unexpectedly right. But still, a knot tightened in your throat. You’d never been this irresponsible before, never allowed this kind of situation with someone you’d only known for a couple of months.

You slowly pulled yourself from Astarion's embrace. The warmth of his body left a mark on your skin nonetheless. As you sat up, the blanket tangled around your hips, and a sudden rush of cool air hit your naked chest, causing an uninvited shiver to you that woke you a little more.

Your eyes drifted to him, still peacefully asleep beside you. His bare chest rose and fell in slowly, and his expression was soft and relaxed in the morning, a sharp contrast to the intensity of your previous night.

While you stood there, tracing with your eyes his form, the weight of what had just happened was still pressing heavily above your shoulders. Embarrassment crept in, not just for the passion you’d shared but for the place you were in—his tent, in camp, with your friends only a few meters away. The unsettling thought wormed its way into your mind: what if they’d heard you?

Your eyes flicked towards the opening of the tent, a bead of cold sweat rolling down the back of your neck. You pressed your palm to your forehead, the reality sinking in. What if they had? The embarrassment felt like it was growing, and you had to swallow back the rising anxiety carving in your chest.

The thoughts swirled and twisted in your mind. Reaching for your shirt, you slowly sat up a bit more; you felt a sting pain in your muscles from the night’s activities. Your fingers fumbled clumsily to the fabric as the weight of your thoughts made everything feel more difficult. You tried to dress as quietly as possible, not wanting to disturb the fragile calm of his slumber.

The texture felt harsh against your sensitive skin, while the cool morning air grazed over the parts of you exposed and between your thighs as you raised the shirt over your head to dress it.

Just as you finally managed to pull it into place, you caught a soft shift beside you. Astarion’s eyes fluttered open, his vision still cloudy with sleep, but his attention immediately locked onto you. He didn’t speak right away; his focus was on the way you moved.

He curved his lips into a small, lazy smile. There was a softness in his expression now that you didn't see before. “Good morning... sneaking off already?” He sighed with the remnants of sleep in his tone. He looked down to where your fingers grabbed the fabric of your shirt, then back to your face, his smile growing wider. His hand reached out to grab your arm, pulling you back towards him gently. “Didn't peg you as the type to leave me after our first time, darling...”

The way he still wanted you close stirred something within you—a warmth despite the storm of emotions inside you. You couldn’t help but smile softly at the thought. “I wasn’t going anywhere...” You replied quietly.

Astarion’s hand moved to your waist, his touch fierce yet tender as he pulled you closer, guiding you to lay back completely against his body. His chest pressed against your back as he nestled his chin in the crook of your neck, pressing soft kisses there. You could feel the weight of him, enveloping you in a way that was both comforting and deeply intimate.

His arm wrapped securely around your waist, drawing you even nearer as he gently adjusted his position, making sure you were comfortable. You could feel the tension in your body melt as his movements spoke of quiet care, though the nervousness inside you didn’t entirely dissipate.

He must have sensed the shift in your mood. “Is everything alright?” Astarion murmured softly, concerned. His lips brushed over your ear as he spoke, a gentle kiss to your cheek that seemed to reassure you, though you couldn’t quite shake the lingering anxiety that clung to you.

“I... I just—” You broke off. “What if they heard us, Astarion?”

“We’re safe, darling,” he murmured, his voice a soothing caress that chased away the remnants of your worry. “No one knows a thing. The storm was our shield last night.”

Astarion’s hand lingered at your waist as he shifted his weight, guiding you gently. And with a slight motion, he turned you to lie on your back and face him fully. His gaze locked onto yours, his crimson eyes glimmering with something unspoken. He propped himself on an elbow beside you, sliding his other hand from your waist to cradle your cheek.

Seeing the faint worry lingering in your eyes, he offered a small, tender smile. “You know, love,” he began, “this is different. I’d be lying if I said it wasn’t. I never imagined I’d feel like this—like I’d actually want this... someone.” His thumb brushed softly over your cheekbone, as if the gesture alone could convey what words struggled to express. “Last night wasn’t just indulgence, not with you. It was... real.”

The way he looked at you then was as though he’d laid down his armour, revealing a part of himself you’d only glimpsed. “I’ve spent centuries taking what I was told to, living by someone else’s twisted desires. Wanting something—someone—for myself? I’d almost forgotten what that even felt like.” He hesitated. “But here we are... and being with you, feeling this... it’s more than I ever dared to hope for.”

Your breath caught, and the sincerity in his voice made your chest feel both heavy and light at once. You swallowed, a warmth blossoming where your anxiety had been. “I want you to know that I meant every word,” he whispered against your ear.

As he drew back, his fingers entwined with yours, and he gave you a small smile, one filled with that rare sincerity he reserved just for you. “So, let’s not let the world outside intrude on this, hmm?” His eyes gleamed with a quiet plea. “Not yet.”

The words hung in the warm morning light, soothing the unease within you. Astarion shifted slightly again to recline back onto the soft bedroll, pulling you with him. You instinctively wrapped an arm around his waist to hold him close.

But as your fingers traced along his side, you brushed against something you forgot. A faint crease formed between your brows as you looked down. There was the bandage you had tied the night before, stained with a faint bloom of red where his wound lay concealed. A quiet ache of worry unfurled in your chest as your hand rested against the edge of the bandage.

Without thinking, your fingers traced lightly over his abdomen, avoiding the more sensitive area near the bandage. “Astarion,” you called softly with a new urgency. “Are you... alright? I might’ve moved too much last night.”

Astarion’s eyes opened a bit more as he recognised the genuine concern in your voice. “Oh, my love,” he purred with a smirk on his lips as he glanced down to where your hand rested on his stomach. “If anyone could survive your... enthusiasm, it would be me.” His tone softened as he covered your hand with his.

You bit your lip, the persistent worry stirring as you recalled the intensity of the night before. “Still, I should've been more careful with you,” you replied with a faint blush warming your cheeks. “I didn’t even think about it last night... I just... wanted you.”

He shifted slightly, pulling you closer until your foreheads touched, his lips barely brushing yours as he spoke again. “Believe me, last night... was everything I never knew I needed,” he said, with a hint of a smile playing at the corners of his mouth. “You've given me a moment of calmness I never thought I’d experience again.”

Your hand pressed lightly against his chest; he let out a quiet, contented sigh. His own hand drifted down to rest against your waist, drawing you even closer.

He brushed his lips softly against the tip of your nose, placing a sweet kiss there before he spoke. “The truth is, I’m not used to someone worrying over me. I’ve learnt to dismiss my wounds and to push through the pain alone. But with you... it's different.”

A soft smile tugged at his lips as he leaned back just enough to catch your gaze, reaching with his hand your cheek to rub his thumb along your cheekbone in a gentle, absent-minded swipe. Your heart softened as you wrapped your arms around him, letting yourself melt. You nestled closer to him, the soft heat of his body a constant pull as your fingers traced lightly over his skin, careful not to touch the bandage.

Astarion’s fingers moved in slow strokes along your back, his touch lingering at the small of your waist. The quiet way his body urged you nearer made your pulse race in a way that was both comforting and thrilling. You could feel the passion of the night still lingering in the air between you, a magnetic pull that only seemed to deepen the longer you were in his presence.

“You know,” he murmured lowly, his velvety voice wrapping around your thoughts. He leaned in, his lips brushing over yours as he closed his eyes briefly. “I find myself wanting more.”

A small shiver of anticipation ran through you. He moved slightly, shifting his body to bring you closer, his hand sliding down your side until he could grab one of your buttocks. It stirred something inside of you—something that made it hard to breathe, hard to think.

You pressed your lips to his to give him a soft kiss before pulling back to meet his eyes. The intensity in his look made you ache with longing. “Astarion, are you sure you’re alright?” You asked softly. “I don’t want to hurt you.”

He froze for a moment, his eyes narrowing with something dark and intense, and then he leaned forward, capturing your lips in a kiss that was slow and sensual, tasting of the night and everything you’d shared. His mouth moved against yours with a quiet eagerness, and you let yourself melt into him, your hand sliding to his waist, feeling the bandage beneath your palm.

But you pulled back slightly, concern flitting through your mind again. Astarion’s eyes glimmered, his expression a blend of amusement and something achingly vulnerable. “Darling,” he replied, his voice a rough, affectionate murmur. “I can handle anything you give me.”

You leaned into him, grazing your lips with his as you spoke, “I just want to make sure you're alright... I don’t want to push—” Without letting you finish, he leaned forward to kiss your lips again to silence you. His mouth moved against yours with a quiet desperation, a demand for attention.

Astarion’s hands slowly roamed your sides as he shifted, positioning himself above you on the bedroll. You could feel the warmth of his body radiating into yours, his thighs pressed tightly against yours.

Your hands moved instinctively, sliding around his waist, bracing yourself against his lower back, feeling the curve of his muscles tense under your touch. The kiss deepened, slow and calm, as if he tasted every inch of you, pushing any lingering uncertainty away.

One of his hands moved to catch your hand and entwine his fingers with yours before pressing your hand down against the pillow. His other hand found your other wrist, lifting it gently above your head and pinning it there, his grip firm yet laced with a sensual care that only deepened your wanting of him. His thighs pressing tighter against yours.

Astarion’s breath was shallow against your lips as he finally broke the kiss to meet your gaze, his pupils wide with a need that mirrored your own, his mouth curving into a wicked smile as he held you in place. The subtle weight of him, combined with the feeling of his fingers interlocked with yours, created an undeniable sense of belonging, a wordless claim that ignited every nerve.

“Don’t worry about me,” he murmured roughly because of his desire, his lips brushing against yours as he spoke. “Just stay here. With me. That’s all I need.”

‎

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pubbamoon · 4 months ago

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Your The Most Suitable Career Path Based On Your Destiny Matrix Chart

Hello! It's been a while since I've made the last observation here on Tumblr, two weeks I guess. I think it's time to make an observation I promised you to do. So, this post will be about your possible career paths based on your Destiny Matrix chart. I've been thinking about making this kind of observation ever since I've made a post about an ideal partner based on the Destiny Matrix chart. Take what resonates and leave what doesn't. I hope you'll enjoy it.

For those who doesn't know, there's a money line in the Destiny Matrix chart right after the love line. It is also formed by three numbers and it represents career, profession, how we can make money etc. The second number from this line, which is the closest to the dollar icon/emoji, is the most important number if you wanna look for your career path. It can represent which career path is the most suitable for you and that kind of stuff.

I'm about to give you an example of that. I marked the adequate number with the black color, which is the number 5 in my case. So, the number close to the dollar icon/emoji is number 5, meaning that I should use characteristics of The Hierophant arcana to maintain my career path. I really hope it's understandable.

Now it's time to describe each number and your possible career path!

1 (The Magician) - The Magician is a powerful card which represents manifestation, having all the knowledge and being the jack of all trades, which makes sense because this card is related to the planet Mercury. So, I think you might be successful in any field you can imagine yourself to be. Number 1 is ruled by the Sun in numerology, meaning that you might be very ambitious in your work environment. A great placement to have an own business or to have many sources of income.

2 (The High Priestess) - A number 2 is being ruled by the Moon, which can mean that you might choose your profession based on your emotions, gut, intuition or instincts. I think that you should do something that you love to do, because if you do something because you have to, it might not be good for your health in general. I can see you as a psychologist, healer, nurturer, nurse and in every field where you help other people. This arcana is ruled by the planet Moon itself.

3 (The Empress) - This card is connected to the planet Venus, which means that you may find success in creative pursuits, negotiating, partnerships, collaborations or expressing your feminine energy in general. Number 3 is ruled by Jupiter which represents luck, expansion and abundance, so you might have an expansive and successful career, but it depends on many other factors. Being a writer, artist, singer, model or having an own business in related fields might bring you success.

4 (The Emperor) - There is a huge leadership energy going on here. Any career where you can be a leader/CEO might be successful to you. Number 4 is ruled by Rahu in Indian numerology (or by Uranus in western numerology) which represents ambition, massive success and fame, while the Emperor itself is related to Aries sign, which explains the leaderships energy I already mentioned. You should use your masculine energy while striving for success, no matter of your gender.

5 (The Hierophant) - Number 5 is ruled by Mercury which represents fields related to communication, writing or teaching. The Hierophant card is associated with Taurus sign, so you might seek for the stable and traditional career path, since this card is related to tradition, spirituality and conformity. I see many of people having this arcana becoming a successful singers, or someone who has an influence over people. Being a lawyer, priest or (spiritual) teacher might also be fulfilling career options for you.

6 (The Lovers) - Number 6 is being ruled by Venus, which means being involved in artistic pursuits in this case. You might also become successful if you use your social and communication skills, since The Lovers card is associated with the Gemini sign. Being a musician or working in publishing, broadcasting on TV and writing might bring you success and money. Working with other people is crucial for you as well.

7 (The Chariot) - This is another ambitious arcana with leadership capabilities. Number 7 is being ruled by Ketu in Indian numerology (or by Neptune in western numerology), making this number very spiritual. But The Chariot card is associated with the Cancer sign, a cardinal sign which is related to movement. You could be a leader in any kind of way, even a spiritualist. Since this card represents victory, it's likely possible that you may succeed in your profession.

8 (Justice) - I always present the Justice as the 8th card, because this number is ruled by Saturn which is about balance and organization, while the Justice card is related to Libra sign. Saturn is exalted in Libra, which makes sense. The first thing that cross to my mind when I think about this arcana is law, so being a lawyer could be the adequate career option for you. I feel that you might be serious-minded in your work environment and work in a field where there has to do with paperwork or contracts. This arcana is giving me a hard-working energy, you might have a sense of working in teams and collaborating in general.

9 (The Hermit) - Your career path might seem to you as lonely or you might do everything by yourself, since this card represents solitude. This card is connected to Virgo sign, meaning that you can use your analytical skills in your career. You can be an economist, a programmer, a chemist, a scientist, an engineer of something or work in fields where you can use your wisdom, which this card is actually about. Number 9 is ruled by Mars in numerology, so you may also be very competitive in your work environment. Take what resonates.

10 (Wheel of Fortune) - I don't really have a point about what you can do with this arcana, I think that you can do almost everything with this arcana if you have it in your money line. This card is associated with Jupiter, which means that you might have a expansive and prosperous career. Seasonal jobs might be a thing for you. Working in entertainment industry could also be your lane. By saying the entertainment industry, I mean working as a singer, actor, entertainer, movie director, producent or even a content creator.

11 (Strength) - Number 11 is considered as the master number in numerology and is related to a higher purpose. This could mean that you might choose a career path where you can help and guide others. You could be a powerful motivational speaker, social worker, life coach or something like that. Since there's an animal in this card, it might mean working with animals, for example, being a vet, or a dog trainer. This card is associated with Leo sign, so you might also work in creative pursuits, entertainment industry or as a babysitter.

12 (The Hanged Man) - Whenever I hear about this arcana, the first thing that comes to my mind is spirituality. This card is ruled by the planet Neptune, which represents spirituality in modern western astrology. Being a psychic medium, a prophet or just a spiritualist might be fulfilling for you. You might work in any field where you can share your wisdom. The problem is that you may tend to sacrifice a lot for your career, since this card is all about sacrifice. The negative side of that could be becoming stuck in your toxic work environment, because in this card, there's a man being trapped and unable to move forward. Be aware if that!

13 (Death) - Your career or profession might transform other people's lives or their own life perspective, since this card is related to Scorpio sign. Being a therapist could be a good career option for you. Working as a funeral director, a forensic scientist where you can investigate the criminal cases or even as an archeologist might also be suitable for you. Even if you do something completely different, that field might be something you are passionate about, 'cause Scorpio is associated with the passion itself.

14 (Temperance) - You might put yourself in a position where you can help and heal others. Working as a doctor, a nurse, a pharmacist, psychologist or a therapist could be very suitable for you. Temperance card is associated with the Sagittarius sign, so you're someone who can teach and guide other people, 'cause Sagittarius is a moral sign which is about looking for the right ways to live a life. You can influence and heal a lot of people with your public presence or with your work.

15 (The Devil) - This is telling me that you might choose a career path which could be very risky. This card is ruled by the Capricorn sign, so you might use the dark side of yourself in order to succeed, since Capricorn is a very dark sign. You could work as a Casino worker, business owner, sex worker, stockbroker, investor, musician, police officer etc. You might yearn to earn money in a fast, maybe even in an unethical ways. I see you choosing a career where you can make a lot of money in general.

16 (The Tower) - This card is all about destructions, extreme ups and downs and spirituality. It's connected to the planet Mars which also represents similar things. You might become successful as a spiritual leader or doing some extreme work, such as firefighter, surgeon, policeman, archeologist etc. It might be hard for you to keep being consistent to your work and you'll never know which obstacle might be next to come to you, 'cause this arcana is about extremes. You might be extremely motivated and productive or extremely tired and unmotivated.

17 (The Star) - Well, I think that the name of this card tells everything. With this placement, you might work in any field where you can express yourself and to stand out from the crowd. This card is related to the Aquarius sign, so you may attract a lot of attention from other people. You can be a singer, musician, actor, model, photograph, graphic designer, content creator or just working in the entertainment industry. This is a very creative placement.

18 (The Moon) - This is another placement which indicate working in creative fields, but you might rather work behind the scene, which kinda makes sense because this arcana represents mystery and illusions. It is associated with the Pisces sign, which is a very idealistic, selfless and creative sign, so you might also work as a musician or an actor. You might also work in a spiritual field, such as tarot readings or selling crystals. I can also see you working as a social worker and as a therapist.

19 (The Sun) - You could work in any field where being at the center of attention is crucial. Putting yourself in a spotlight might be a great option for you. I can see you being an entrepreneur or a performer. Leadership energy is relevant here. I don't know if you are comfortable in putting yourself out there, but if you have this arcana in your money line, then I think you should try it, you can be successful by doing that. This card is ruled by the planet Sun (do I even have to say that?).

20 (Judgement) - I feel that you can work in every field where you can criticize or analyze several topics. This is a great placement of being a lawyer, judge, presenter, music critic etc. This card is associated with the planet Pluto, which represents transformation, so you might change the people's way of thinking with your career. This arcana is also about ancestry and family, meaning that you could work in your family business or as a caregiver.

21 (The World) - This is an obvious indicator of a career path where you can travel all around the world. Being a travel agent or an anthropologist might be significant. This card is related to the planet Saturn which does represent organization and structure, so you might need to be organized in order to become successful in your field. You could also work in a tourism industry as a hotelier. You might connect with a lot of people with your profession by using your open mind in general.

22 (The Fool) - You might use the profession that is very risk-taking and unconventional to societal norms. Mind you that this card is basically ruled by the planet Uranus, which tells a lot. I see so many people with this arcana in their money line who work in the entertainment industry as a singer, actor, comedian or presenter. There could be bunch of field where you might work in, 'cause you cannot bound into one particular category. You might also work as an astrologer, business owner or be a self-employed in general.

Whoa, I finally made this observation until the end! I hope you enjoyed it and that you can resonate with that. If you want to deepen down in your Destiny Matrix chart, then you can book a private reading with me. I've published pre-recorded video readings and one-on-one readings on Zoom. The first three offers of mine are text-related readings (those offers which are categorized as Western Astrology, Vedic Astrology and Matrix of Destiny are text-related). Anyways, I hope you liked this observation. Wish you all had a beautiful week ahead. Bye for now and see you very soon!

Best regards, Paky McGee

#astro community #astro observations #astrology tumblr #astrology community #matrix of destiny #numerology #major arcana #career #money #just an observation #destiny matrix chart #indian numerology

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elmushterri · 5 months ago

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I filled an entire page of my sketchbook with Nori!

I love them sm!!! This has to be one of my favorite of your rewrites, I seriously did not think I could actually care abt PJ Masks past the age of 6 but now I'm obsessed 😭

On another note, just a random thing I'm curious about, before breaking off from GunnTech, did the main three basically live at the facility since they were initiated? I guess they do from what I’ve seen, but I was just wondering if they ever had to go to like. School or something, when they're not training. And if they ever got to see their family again (though I doubt both the kids and their family would want to lol)

And one more thing, totally important and necessary to ask, how does Nori acquire the kids? (..that doesnt sound right)

Like does he break in to the facility from time to time or did they just bring them with him when they left GunnTech or does he take them in when he finds them just out and about??

NORI… OUR FAVOURITE PROBLEM! The way you draw eyes scratches my brain /positive.

I think the idea is that everyone does live at GunnTech, they have rooms and go to school. GunnTech also has a prison somewhere (like, sci fi, clean, sterile white prison, a glass front-wall for cells instead of bars, and that’s where everyone gets put in Season 4. But, before that, when the main three villains (or at least, just Luna and Nori) escaped, it wasn’t totally locked down so they had to walk out suspiciously/tell the security guards reasons (you need to give reasons when leaving GunnTech so, “I’m hanging out with a friend” comes with ‘who is the friend + give us contact details’) and then probably remove a tracker (unsure as to whether the wristbands are the trackers or the trackers are put into their chest implants), and try to avoid getting caught for the rest of the time (until season 3-4 ofc). The main story probably begins with the three MCs trying to find them and bring them back. Romeo’s wanted cause he stole tech, though, he’s not a mutant.

Nori risks his life basically (not literally but he risks huge punishment) by constantly breaking into the facility to get out new kids. Kids who haven’t yet been mutated all have one room (several large rooms for many kids’ bunk beds basically, not literally one big room 😭) and he goes in and saves one or two each time. Some kids don’t *want* to come with him, thinking this is a cool superhero opportunity. He has an easier time helping kids who are scared and having second thoughts. He’s very gentle.

Also reminder that Nori had their finger prints burned off yipeeee. He’s not letting that happen to the others. (It doesn’t happen to every kid, but GunnTech probably has categories (like, heroes: animals, space, spies, drivers, healers?) and if you’re in the (name is a work in progress) Spies Category (stealth category?) like Nori, you get your finger prints burned off.

Daisy is canonically one of the only two Ninjalino names we know! I might make her into a small side character so that art isn’t 100% solid but eh!

Also he can’t really just “take them back to their parents”. If you’re a child at GunnTech, your parents either gave you away for money or you’re an orphan.

Nori’s usually a sassy ‘problem’ but they have their really serious and gentle moments.

#night ninja #pj masks #gunntech au #pj masks night ninja #nori nakamura #fanart #ama #digitalart #myart #pjmasks #pj masks ninjalinos

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heli-writes · 4 months ago

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A dragon's heart, part 14.

Pairing: Barbarian!Bakugou Katsuki x female!reader

Summary: The dragonblood tribe is known for being cruel, barbarian warriors that slaughter, loot and rape all places they pass through. They are feared among the villagers and even bigger cities. Having lost most of their women to a plague, they're trying to ensure their tribe's survival by kidnapping women from other places. However, they're not the only monsters in human form out there. When y/n experiences this first hand, she has no choice but to ask for help from no other but the barbarian leader Katsuki Bakugou himself.

Disclaimer: mentions of injuries, mentions of rape and abuse, marking, trauma symptoms, trust issues

[Please don't read if you are sensible to or triggered by the topics mentioned above.]

Note: Y'all I'm back from the beach all crispy and tanned. Finally found some time and inspiration to continue this.

Part 1, Part 2, Part 3, Part 4, Part 5, Part 6, Part 7, Part 8, Part 9, Part 10, Part 11, Part 12, Part 13, Part 14

Series Masterlist

~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~

The first day, y/n didn't leave the tent because of spite (and the immense pain that radiated off the wound in pulsating waves). The second day, she didn't leave the bed cause she felt as if she'd faint if she tried to get up. By the third day, y/n developed a fever that made it impossible for her to move at all.

Katsuki watches over her with a worried gaze. He's in and out of their shared tent trying to balance his business and his mate. He orders the healers to have a close look at her. When the head healer comes to speak with him while he’s fulfilling his duty, he knows that something is wrong.

“The infection spread. She’s having a high fever. I’ve already sent some of our men to look for fresh herbs to make a fever-reducing medicine, but that can only help so much. We will be giving her cool calf compresses throughout the night. You might want to stay with her tonight.”, the healer explains.

Katsuki feels as if his heart stopped for a millisecond. He only gives the healer a short nod. It might seem cold and emotionless towards others, but the truth is that Katsuki doesn’t trust his voice.

After that, he adjourns the meeting with his men and returns to y/n’s bedside. Some healers are busily swirling around the small tent, soaking cloths in cold water and pulling them around y/n’s legs.

Katsuki delicately holds y/n’s hand as if her hand would turn to dust like a dried flower when you crunch it too hard. He stares at her chest which heavily goes up and down. Despite her obvious troubled breathing, y/n barely lets out a sound. He’d take her yelling at him over this eery silence any day.

“Bakugou.”, a voice rips him out of his thoughts. Kirishima stands at the entrance of the tent. When Katsuki gives him a sign, Kirishima carefully enters his leader’s private quarter.

“How is she?”, Kirishima asks carefully standing behind him. Katsuki doesn’t turn around to meet his eye.

“The fever’s bad but the healers are working on it.”, he tells him.

Kirishima stays silent. Katsuki does not need to explain y/n’s condition further. Fevers are tricky things. They come in slowly and when they hit, they’re hard to get under control. Katsuki’s own father perished due to the same infection that took out most of his tribe’s women. He understands better than anyone just how quickly a simple infection can take someone’s life.

“She will pull through.”, Kirishima encourages him. Katsuki’s lips form a firm line. When Katsuki doesn’t answer, he adds: “That one is a strong one. She’s a fighter”.

“So was my father. So were many of our women.”, Katsuki tells him.

“This is not the same, you know that. They were sick and y/n has only an infected wound.”, Kirishima points out.

“And how many warriors have we lost because of that?”, Katsuki presses. Kirishima stays silent. He wishes his leader would be less of a realist sometimes. It’d be easier to cheer him up in dark moments.

The entrance of the tent is moved once again and Mitsuki enters. She gives the healers and Kirishima a sign to leave her alone with her son.

“Have you come to gloat, mother?”, Katsuki bites venomously. Mitsuki gives him a long, unidentifiable look.

“I do not wish this upon you or… her.”, Mitsuki says. Katsuki doesn’t look at his mother either. Instead, he observes how y/n’s eyelashes cast a slim shadow onto her undereyes.

Mitsuki sighs deeply and sits down next to him.

“Son… I know how you feel. Remember, I’ve lost your father the same way.”, she reminds him. When Katsuki doesn’t answer her, she continues.

“Maybe it was inevitable. We’ve lost other women before her. These women you bring in are not suited for life in the mountains. They’re often too weak to survive the harsh winters out here. It’s not their fault their bodies are weak. They do not carry the same hot blood as we do. The blood that also makes our wounds heal faster.”, Mitsuki tells him.

“Others survived the mating. So will she.”, Katsuki says determinedly. It’s something he’s not sure of, something he didn’t even believe only seconds ago when Kirishima pointed out the same thing. Maybe he's just saying it to defy his mother. He’s aware of how fragile y/n is compared to women of his tribe. It’s why he fears the worst.

Mitsuki looks at her son for a long time before putting a hand on his shoulder.

“Son, I know this is not what you wished for, but maybe it’s for the best.”, she tells him. Harshly Katsuki yanks his shoulder back and shoves her hand away.

“That my mate dies days after she became mine? How is that for the best?”, Katsuki whisper-yells. The healers must still be outside the tent.

Mitsuki pulls back her arm. “She’s not suited for this life, to be a strong leader by your side. It’s best that it happens so early before you’re too attached to her.”, Mitsuki says compassionately and it just makes Katsuki just more angry.

“If she dies, I will not take another mate. As it is custom.”, Katsuki harshly points out.

“In our situation, no one would question you breaking traditions.”, Mitsuki replies.

“I don’t care.”, Katsuki barks and grips y/n’s hand tighter. There’s no one else for him besides her. He made his choice, he knew the implications.

Mitsuki sighs and gets up. “We’ll see.”, she only says calmly and turns around to exit the tent leaving Katsuki alone sitting at y/n’s side.

~*~*~*~

Everything lies in a hazy fog. Y/n is sure she can make out Katsuki's face in her distorted vision. Something hot runs through her stomach. Is it anger? She can't remember what she should be angry about. Then maybe, she's wrong. Her vision fades and Katsuki's face becomes blurred. Maybe it was never Katsuki to begin with?

„Brother!“, y/n calls out through the mist.

Is he here? Has he come to take her home? Back to mother and father and their little wagon in the woods?

Soft voices reach her ears. The strum of a guitar is somewhere far away alongside a soft voice. A familiar melody comes forward in her consciousness. Her tongue feels heavy as she tries to sing alongside her mother's lullaby.

Someone strokes over her hot, wet forehead.

„It's alright little one. Rest now.“, her father's voice says close to her ear. Relief floods her anxious thoughts and y/n relaxes. I'm safe, y/n thinks.

„Don't worry, my love.“, her mother says from her other side, „It's just a cold. You've played too long in the snow with your brother.“

Right, of course. Y/n remembers. It snowed in the night and y/b/n and her snuck out of the tent before their parents woke up. They built a snowman and made snow angels. When her mother saw the two of them barefoot in the snow, she shooed them back inside and made them sit by the fire with a blanket and a hot cup of tea. Y/n fell asleep on her brother's shoulder.

Y/n leans into the hand that strokes her forehead.

„Brother, stay with me.“, she begs but she isn't sure if she only says it in her head. Dirty blonde hair shuffles through her hazy vision. Someone holds her hand. Y/n lets out a shaky breath.

It's alright. Y/b/n is here. You're safe., she thinks as she fades into a dream of snow-capped forests, frozen lakes and her brother's laugh in the distance.

~*~*~*~

Kirishima watches his leader with worried eyes. Y/n has been drifting in and out of consciousness all night. The moments that she's been awake a dull haze covered her eyes. She's been trying to speak but the words hardly leave her throat.

The hazier her gaze gets, the glossier Katsuki's gaze becomes.

Kirishima places a hand on his friend's shoulders. There's not much they can do right now. The healers are still changing the calf compresses every ten minutes or so, trying to cool down her body as much as possible. Behind Katsuki's back, the head healer told him that y/n either makes it through the night and will live or not. Kirishima didn't have the heart to tell his friend, but he's sure Katsuki knows without anybody telling him.

Y/n lets out a shaky breath and tears shimmer in her eyes. She calls out a name. She's been repeating the name for some time now. Katsuki just holds her hand a bit tighter.

„I think it's her brother.“, Kirishima tries to calm his friend, „I don't know much of her language but I think she's been saying the word for brother earlier“.

„I didn't even know she had a brother“, Katsuki says quietly.

„Maybe he isn't with her anymore. When the veil between the living and the dead is thin for a person, they often call out to those that went before them.“, Kirishima offers and almost instantly regrets bringing up death in front of his friend.

„Or maybe I ripped her away from him and now she has to die alone surrounded by strangers.“, Katsuki flatly points out.

For a moment, Kirishima doesn't know what to say. Of course, that's a possibility too. But until now that has never mattered when they took women. The survival of their tribe always came first for Katsuki. He didn't think much about the women's families. Kirishima was never sure whether Katsuki was so cold that he didn't care or if Katsuki didn't allow himself to care about it because it was expected from the leader of the tribe.

„Promise her to find him.“, Kirishima says without thinking. Katsuki turns his head back to him.

„What?“, he asks and Kirishima only nods. He doesn't offer his leader an explanation. Katsuki turns his head back to y/n and stares at her struggling form for a while before ordering Kirishima to leave them. Wordlessly, Kirishima leaves the tent.

Katsuki takes a long look at y/n before taking her hunting knife that she always keeps close. Carefully, he cuts a fine line into the inside of his hand. He watches the blood pushing through the cut. He takes a long look at y/n's face before pressing his bloody hand to her heart.

„If you survive tonight, I, Katsuki Bakugou, son of Masaru and Mitsuki Bakugou, promise to find y/b/n and to let you go with him if you so please.“

~*~*~*~

There's the faint sound of metal hitting against each other and men clamoring in the distance but the tent lies in absolute silence. Y/n struggles to regain her vision for a couple of moments. She's feeling groggy and terrible. For a split second, she believes she's in her parent's tent.

Then, she remembers where she is. This is Katsuki's tent. Her head throbs from the lack of water. Her hand flies to her forehead and she puts it over her eyes in an attempt to milder the hammering feeling in her head.

She's been sick. She remembers waking up multiple times. She remembers waking up to unknown men pouring a thick, bitter fluid down her throat and a cool piece of cloth placed onto her head. She remembers waking up to Katsuki leaning over her watching her with furrowed, worried eyes. She remembers her brother's face in her periphery. Y/n wonders how much time has passed since Katsuki cleaned her wound. And for a very short moment, she wonders if her brother actually found her.

Quickly, she discards the idea. It was probably a fever dream. Something her imagination came up with in an attempt to calm her struggling body and mind. Y/n feels hot tears burning behind her eyes at the thought making her head feel worse.

Her hand flies to her throat where the wound is still wrapped in a tight bandage. She realizes that her head feels worse than the wound. Actually, she barely feels the wound at all. She wonders if it healed or if everything else just feels worse.

Groaning, y/n tries to sit up. I need water, she thinks. When she moves, there's a twitch of a body at her side. Only then she notices Katsuki who lies next to her face down. He's clutching her other hand. Katsuki groans and turns over letting go of her hand. Quickly, y/n pulls it away from him.

Katsuki stretches and turns his head to her.

When he notices that y/n is awake, he jerks up. His head spins for a moment from getting up too quickly. Immediately he sits up and pulls y/n close. He hides his face in her hair. Y/n let it happen and suddenly her heart feels heavy with grief. Grief, that her brother isn't here, that she's still stuck here, and that Katsuki hurt her when she was ready to trust him all the way.

It's impossible to hold back tears anymore and they stream down her cheeks and onto Katsuki's arm as he holds her. She wants to push him away but at the same time, she longs for the warmth and comfort Katsuki offers her right now. She wants to be held, wants him to pet her hair and tell her everything will be alright. And most importantly, she wants to believe him.

When y/n looks up, Katsuki is watching her with sorrowful eyes. Carefully, he wipes some tears away and his gaze falls onto the bandage on her throat. Softly, he traces the wound beneath the bandage and then carefully leans closer. Y/n's breath hitches a bit but she's too weak to pull back. Softly, Katsuki presses a kiss onto the bandage right where he hurt her not too long ago.

Katsuki's hair tickes her chin and y/n stares at the wall of the tent behind him. Katsuki's hand softly traces patterns onto her arm as he continues to hide his face at her throat. He's so soft right now that y/n wonders what possessed him to hurt her in the first place.

When Katsuki notices that y/n doesn't struggle against him, he pulls back and looks at her. Y/n holds his gaze. There's no fire or anger behind her eyes. Just exhaustion. Slowly, he leans forward, presses a kiss to her forehead and pulls her close. Y/n can't help but lean into his touch. She's been feeling so alone. How can she refuse Katsuki's touch right now? She's too worn out physically and emotionally to fight him or the burning want in her stomach to be comforted by him.

Katsuki puts his hand into her hair and pulls his face closer to his. Y/n continues to hold his gaze. She can see worry, sadness and regret shimmering behind them. Maybe also something like relief. His nose grazes hers and she can feel his breath on her lips.

Katsuki is desperate to kiss her right now but he doesn't move forward. He's not sure if he's still allowed to touch her like that.

Y/n wants to be angry with him like she was before the fever took hold of her. She wants to yell and scream at him. At the same time, she wishes for nothing more than for him to close the gap between them and kiss her. But she's too exhausted to do anything other than lay still in his arms.

She wonders if she’s going mad. If she’s suffering some mental illness that makes her love a man who hurt her, wonders if maybe she’s always been mad like this which led to all her bad decisions. Or if the death of her parents and the loss of her people made her mad like that.

Y/n is ripped out of her thoughts when Katsuki’s lips softly graze hers. It's that moment that she decides that she doesn’t care and that it doesn’t matter.

I dug my own grave, now I have to lay in it.

Before Katsuki can realize what is happening, she closes the gap between them and kisses Katsuki deeply.

For a moment, Katsuki is frozen. He struggles to understand y/n's ever-changing emotions and actions. Only a couple of days ago she looked at him as if she wanted to murder him. He decides that he doesn't care and that it doesn't matter. Not after almost losing her.

He pulls her closer so that her entire body is pressed against him. He reciprocates the kiss and kisses her as deeply as he can. He tries to pour all the words that she doesn't understand into this one kiss.

They kiss until they can't breathe anymore and they need to pull apart. Katsuki softly pushes a greasy strand of hair out of her face, but it's stuck to her sweaty forehead. He offers her a small smile because he's not sure if this means she has forgiven him.

When y/n sighs and leans against his forehead, relief finally floods through his body.

My mate didn't reject me.

He pulls her into his arms and engulfs her with his much larger frame. Y/n leans into him and Katsuki pulls the blanket over them. They can stay here for a little while longer. At least until one of the healers comes in with another portion of this god-awful syrup.

~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~

Tag list: @graviewaviee @cosmicbreathe @tsukikoxo @nnubee @witchbishsblog @elajede @bsallergy @frxcless @berryvioo @eyesforbkg @shamelesjaroflaffytaffy @pastelbaby1111 @iamlizardgod @plvt0fvtvre @hello-peanutdoodle-blog @kookiemyfeelsposts @sweetblueworm @54fangirl @sakurarr1122 @rv19 @leeliyah @king-dynamight @confused-smol-fan @xmaudx @waterstarz @pinkwhiskerglitter @adeline96 @zoom1374 @fingui @giuli-in-earth @colouringfrogssittinginleaves @futuristicallykawaiiturtle @tragedyofabrokensoul @dynakats @rebel-loves-anime @cloudxluv @itsssyagurll @sunshineandwitchery @cloudxluv @hollykanuki @atouchofmidnight @nutellaenjoyer @musicbecky @miacitocco @cassouandco @penguinlovestowrite @sleepykittycx @bakugouswh0r3 @xxjesshuxx @helenamaximoff @ssssssws-world @k1tk4tkatsuki @gh0stgirl333 @anon-mouse223 @bexxs @i-am-ms-rebel-heart @wannabeisekai @spragaraga @faemagic88 @kolakoke @faetoraa @cax-per @willy-the-witch @stardream14 @jiyuu-da @mintytalesblog @sparklyoperaroadpie @musicbecky @maria-patricia @mistermemister @katsukismrs @l0kisbitch @bakukiriswife @rebel-loves-anime @drink-water-456

[Please comment beneath the last update if you'd like to be tagged in future chapters]

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muiitoloko · 2 months ago

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Omg the fluff severus being a father!! Can we also get a fic where he and his wife discover they are having twins? In my mind palace that poor man had the happiest ending idc idc

Title: Double the Love

Summary: Severus and you learn that you’re having twin, and Severus faces the overwhelming realization that fatherhood will be double the challenge—and double the love.

Pairing: Severus Snape × Fem! Reader

Warnings: None.

Author's Notes: I absolutely loved writing this! But I have to admit, I was seriously wondering, how on earth do wizards even do ultrasounds? 😅 Since I couldn’t figure that one out, I just made it as magical and slightly ridiculous as possible, because why not, right? 😅 It’s a short piece, but I hope you enjoy it as much as I did writing it!

First, Second and Third part here.

Also read on Ao3

The sterile white walls of St. Mungo’s were a far cry from the dimly lit, comforting darkness of the Hogwarts dungeons, and the bustling noise of Healers moving in and out of rooms only added to your nerves. You lay on the hospital bed, your hands resting on your growing belly, feeling the faint fluttering of movement within. At 22 weeks pregnant, today was the day you would find out the sex of your baby.

You glanced over at Severus, who sat beside you with his arms crossed over his chest, his expression as stoic as ever. He wasn’t exactly the picture of calm, though you knew him well enough to recognize the subtle tension in the way his jaw tightened and the way his long, slender fingers tapped against his arm. He was just as anxious as you, though he would never admit it.

The memory of last night brought a small smile to your face. You had caught him at his desk, a quill in hand, scribbling something on a piece of parchment with a concentration usually reserved for complex potion-making. When you peeked over his shoulder, you were both surprised and amused to find a list of baby names—both for boys and girls.

“Trying to choose a worthy name, Severus?” you had teased, leaning against the back of his chair.

He had glanced up at you, his expression unreadable but a faint blush creeping up his neck. “A name is important,” he had replied curtly. “It must be fitting. I won’t have our child saddled with something… inadequate.”

You had laughed softly, pressing a kiss to the top of his head. “I trust you’ll find the perfect one.”

Now, as you waited for the Healer to arrive, the memory of that moment helped calm your nerves a little. Severus might be intimidating and stern on the surface, but beneath all that, he was already a devoted father—one who was taking the task of naming your child with the same seriousness he applied to everything else in life.

“Are you nervous?” you asked softly, your hand reaching out to rest on his knee.

Severus glanced down at your hand, his dark eyes softening ever so slightly. “Nervous? Hardly,” he replied, though his voice lacked its usual sharpness. “But I do wish this process would hurry along.”

You chuckled, knowing full well that was his way of admitting that he, too, was anxious. “Don’t worry, Severus. I’m sure the Healer will be here soon, and we’ll find out if we’re having a boy or a girl.”

He nodded, though his expression remained neutral. “Either way,” he said quietly, “the child will be exceptional.”

Before you could respond, the door opened, and a cheerful Healer stepped inside, her robes swishing around her as she smiled at you both. “Good afternoon!” she greeted, her eyes sparkling with warmth. “I hear we’re ready to check on the little one?”

You nodded, sitting up slightly as she prepared the equipment. Severus remained seated, though his gaze followed every movement the Healer made with an intensity that might have unnerved a lesser witch.

“All right, let’s take a look,” the Healer said, positioning her wand over your belly. The gentle hum of magic filled the room as the spell illuminated the area, and you watched in awe as the image of your baby appeared on the enchanted screen.

Severus leaned forward slightly, his eyes narrowing as he studied the image with the same level of scrutiny he used when examining a particularly difficult potion.

“There we are,” the Healer said softly. “And… oh!”

Your heart skipped a beat at her sudden exclamation, and you shot her a nervous glance. “What is it?” you asked, your voice trembling slightly.

The Healer’s smile widened, and she turned the screen so that both you and Severus could see it more clearly. “It appears you’re not having just one baby,” she said, her tone filled with excitement. “You’re having two! Twins!”

For a moment, the room was utterly silent. You stared at the screen, your mind struggling to process the words. Twins. Two babies. You glanced over at Severus, expecting to see some kind of reaction, but he was still as a statue, his dark eyes fixed on the screen. His usual calm exterior had been shattered by the news, and you could see the shock written all over his face.

"Twins?" he repeated, his voice barely more than a whisper. "Two?"

The Healer nodded enthusiastically. "Yes, two healthy little girls, from what I can see. Congratulations!"

Severus blinked slowly, his mind clearly racing as he tried to absorb the information. “Two girls,” he murmured, almost to himself. You watched him carefully, waiting for his response, but it seemed like he was still in a state of shock.

You couldn’t help it—you burst out laughing. “Two girls, Severus! We’re going to have two daughters!”

Severus slowly turned to look at you, his expression a mix of disbelief and what could only be described as mild horror. “Two daughters,” he repeated, his voice flat. “Two sets of diapers. Two mouths to feed. Two…”

“Two future boyfriends,” you teased, unable to resist poking fun at him. “You’re going to have to keep an eye on them, Daddy Snape.”

At that, Severus paled even further, his eyes widening as the full weight of what you had just said hit him. “Future boyfriends?” he muttered, his voice tinged with dread. “I hadn’t… considered that.”

The image of Severus Snape dealing with teenage boys showing up at your door to take his daughters out on dates was too much, and you laughed even harder, clutching your belly as the joy of the moment overwhelmed you.

Severus stood frozen, the image of two tiny forms flickering on the screen in front of him. The words still echoed in his mind: two girls. He blinked, his dark eyes wide with shock, as the reality of it sank in. Two daughters. Two daughters. The healer’s voice faded into the background as his imagination took off, propelled by the unrelenting force of his overprotective instincts.

He could almost see it—boys knocking on his door at Hogwarts, their foolish, eager faces trying to charm their way past him to court his daughters. His daughters. His mind raced, spinning out scenarios of teenage boys chasing after them in the corridors, their idiotic grins widening as they tried to impress with foolish stunts or—worse—terrible jokes. What if one of his daughters dated an idiot? Or Merlin forbid, someone like Potter?

No! The thought alone was enough to send a surge of panic through him. His face, usually so composed, paled visibly.

“Severus?” Your voice, soft and filled with emotion, broke through the haze. You had grabbed his arm, your eyes shining with tears—tears of joy, not fear. “Two girls, Severus,” you whispered, pulling him into a tight hug, your hands trembling as they wrapped around him. “We’re going to have two beautiful little girls.”

Severus blinked, returning to the present as he felt your warmth against him, your joy flooding over him. His arms, stiff at first, slowly circled around you, holding you close. He could feel the tremor in your breath as you buried your face in his chest, your tears dampening the fabric of his robes.

Two little girls. The words echoed in his mind again, but this time the image was softer—more intimate. He could see it now: two girls with your smile, your laugh, your bright eyes full of curiosity and mischief. They would have your warmth, your kindness—your fire.

He held you a little tighter, knowing how emotional you had been these past few days, and a wave of tenderness washed over him. His thumb gently brushed your shoulder, a small gesture of comfort.

“Two girls,” you whispered again, your voice breaking with joy, and he could hear the love in your words. “Double the love, Severus.”

Severus closed his eyes, resting his chin on top of your head, letting the moment settle around him. His heart swelled, a strange and unfamiliar feeling, yet it was not unwelcome. The weight of it, the sheer enormity of the love that was building inside him, was overwhelming. He had never expected this—any of this. He had never thought that someone like him would be capable of this kind of happiness.

The healer’s voice floated back into his awareness. “Would you like pictures of the babies?” she asked, her tone gentle.

Snape nodded without hesitation, his gaze still fixed on the screen, where the tiny forms of their daughters moved faintly, their lives just beginning. He looked down at you again, still holding him, still crying softly with joy. His hand found the small of your back, steady and reassuring.

Two little girls.

He could almost see them in his mind’s eye—two mini versions of you, with your delicate features, your bright personality, and your fierce determination. He allowed himself, for the briefest moment, to imagine them laughing and playing, their voices filling the halls of Hogwarts. And him… there, watching over them, protecting them from anything that might dare to harm them.

A small, uncertain smile tugged at the corner of his mouth as he thought about it—two little yous. His chest tightened at the thought, but then a new fear crept in. What if they looked like him?

He swallowed hard, his mind immediately racing back to his own school days. His hooked nose. The way he had been mocked and ridiculed. The cruel taunts, the laughter, the sneers. He didn’t want that for them. He didn’t want his daughters to suffer the same way he had.

“What are you thinking?” your voice broke through his dark thoughts. You had pulled back just enough to look up at him, your eyes searching his face. “You’ve gone quiet.”

Severus hesitated, his hand resting protectively on your belly. “I was…” He cleared his throat, the words catching slightly before he forced them out. “I was hoping… that they’ll look like you.”

You blinked in surprise, then smiled softly, a knowing look crossing your face. “Severus,” you said gently, cupping his cheek with your hand. “They’ll be beautiful no matter what. Whether they look like you or me.”

He looked down at you, his eyes clouded with uncertainty. “I don’t want them to suffer… like I did.”

Your heart ached at the vulnerability in his voice, and you shook your head, pulling him closer again. “They won’t,” you whispered fiercely, pressing your lips to his chest. “Because they’ll have you. They’ll have us. And we’ll make sure they know how loved they are.”

Snape stood there for a long moment, simply holding you, feeling the warmth of your words seep into him, dispelling the old fears. As he looked back at the image of their daughters on the screen, a sense of peace settled over him. Two girls. Two daughters. His family.

Our family.

And for the first time in his life, Severus Snape allowed himself to believe that he could truly have something this good, this pure. Two little girls with your smile. And even if they did have his nose… well, they would still be perfect.

#alan rickman #alan rickman x reader #severus snape x reader #severus snape

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rae-writes · 7 months ago

Text

part-time

N.M || 0.8k || some romcom for a man I don't even have any solid thoughts/feelings on but the inspo slapped me in the face. violently.

You would think that after attending Yuuei for three years now and being classmates for said three years with dumbasses like Denki Kaminari, Kirishima Eijiro, and Izuku Midoriya (yes, class 3-A’s golden boy. You just have to catch his dumbassery at the perfect time) that you would learn to…not engage in their ideas that lack common sense.

But either you haven’t learned or you just don’t have any self preservation, because that’s exactly how you got here:

Pulling open the door to the infirmary, mumbling curses under your breath (still grinning, might you add— it had been funny as shit, even if you got a sprained arm for the trouble). Though, as you looked around, Recovery Girl didn’t seem to be around.

But Neito Monoma was.

“Oh, fuck no.”

Listen, you honestly didn’t have a real problem with Monoma. He was just…

A prick. All because your class starts with an ‘A’ and had its fair share of spotlight encounters (mainly with villains— all of which were highly unwanted, thank you very much).

“It’s so good to see you, too, Y/n.” Monoma’s annoyingly condescending voice managed to come out sickly sweet, immediately making you turn around and start to go right back out the door.

But unfortunately, he’d caught sight of your swelled arm- which had started to bruise pretty badly- and stopped you from relieving yourself of his presence.

“Now, now. I am here assisting our lovely Recovery Girl and I can’t just have you leaving while still injured, that would make me look like I’m not doing my job.”

You deadpanned, reluctantly sitting on the edge of one of the beds. “No offense, and by that I mean full offense, but I’d rather just walk it off than let your lips come anywhere near me.”

His copy quirk is what allowed him to help out as a healer in the first place— and Recovery Girl’s quirk healed by kisses. You’d be damned if you were letting him have the privilege of kissing even a sliver of your skin.

“Oh my, so rude. You’re breaking my heart.” His grin was a little too smug, but Monoma couldn’t help it. He’s had a stupid crush on you since year one: this opportunity was just too perfect.

Not that he would ever admit it. Especially the part where his heart was fucking racing faster than Iida could run right now.

“Good. Perish.” you groaned, looking away with an apprehensive frown. Your arm was starting to hurt as the adrenaline slowly wore off and…you did come all the way to the infirmary to get healed…

Was it weird that your heart was thudding in your chest? You barely even knew Monoma, for fucks sake, he was just…an academic rival at best.

‘And pretty.’ Your brain supplied. To which you promptly told it to shut up…which it didn’t, because Monoma’s pretty face was currently all up in your business.

“That arm of yours looks painful. Are you really too prideful to be healed by me? That’s not a good heroic quality, you know.”

He sincerely hoped you would cave before he just started begging— and the embarrassing part is, Monoma wouldn’t have to even think twice about it. That’s how..tightly you have him wrapped around your finger.

“Shut up. You’re one to talk about pride, smug bastard.” Your words didn’t really have the bite that you intended- and you could feel your cheeks starting to burn- so with another colorful curse, you relented.

“Fine.”

Except no kiss came after your agreement. You’d even tensed up your arm in preparation for his touch but there was nothing. That was funny— he was so smug just a second ago and now he’s all quiet.

“Monoma, are you gonna heal me or not-“

As soon as your head turned towards him, his lips pressed against yours. It was as shocking as seeing Bakugo Katsuki be nice, which was pretty damn high up on the ‘what the fuck is happening’ list.

But it felt…good.

Monoma himself was surprised, not at his actions, but at your own: the reciprocation of his kiss (when he was so sure you’d pull away and knock his block off), the way your hands- both of them now that your arm was healing- had cupped his jaw, pulling him closer.

It was like the room was spinning, but..softly. With warmth being woven in, making you feel fuzzy starting from the tips of your toes and moving all the way to your fingertips.

When the kiss finally broke, it was quiet, only unsure breaths filling the air. Oddly enough, he felt nervous and had to fight the urge to apologize.

“Well? How was that for healing?” Is what came out of his mouth instead.

And you didn’t even have a witty response to give back, too dazed and flustered to even care at that second.

“Do it again…still hurts.”

‘Academic rivals’ be damned.

inspo credits:

(I found the text post on Pinterest so I just screenshotted it because who knows how old it may be oasjihrugoajfk but their user is still the same: @energon-with-a-curly-straw)

#mha x reader #my hero academia x reader #bnha x reader #monoma x reader #monoma neito x reader #neito monoma x reader #mha fluff #bnha fluff #mha drabble #bnha drabble

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loudclan-clangen · 2 months ago

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The song “Beautiful Little Fool” for Fiercestripe? Because I am not getting over her death. Listened to it and she was the first character to pop into my head.

You’re so right!

YES! Please do, I would love to see it!

The boring answer is that I've been drawing cats for a VERY long time. I think since I was 8 they have been the majority of what I drew. The less boring answer is you know the movie Spirit? It changed my life. It had a bonus video where one of the artists taught you how to draw Spirit himself and it was the singular thing that inspired me to start drawing (more likely possessed me). I think I must have been about two the first time I saw it because I cannot remember a time before I had that video memorized. I would spend hours sitting in front of that video (which was only like 10-15 minutes long) with a stack of papers just fully focused on perfectly following his instructions. I still think about that video to this day. Every time I draw legs the voice of James Baxter echoes through my mind. I don't know if that translates to why my cats are so beefy, I own a cat who is quite chonky, so that might contruibute to it, but now you have a fun fact about me regardless!

All of the heirs are chosen based on birth order! Whoever is born first gets to be heir. I personally find that making strict rules about stuff makes playing the game a lot easier for me, I find it stressful to try to pick a "good heir" when I don't know what's going to happen later in the game so to limit that I just let it be completely out of my hands. 2. The game rolled for Songpaw to become a medicine cat! I would have changed it if he was an only kit or probably if I had known that Dashpaw was gonna die, cause I was really stressed about losing my run at that point, but I do my best to write a story that makes the game make sense rather than change what the game gives me when possible. I think it helps me to not have much of a story in mind while I play, just noting down events and thoughts and then going back and piecing it all together afterwards. That way nothing can "go wrong". 3. "Heir-hood" only applies to the leaders. There is no expectation that Cavepaw will become a healer. When Weed dies that position will be open until someone wishes to volunteer for it. 4. Honestly I don't really know. This might spoil a little bit, of tension, but I truly never had that happen. I was SUPER worried about it and did a lot to make sure it wouldn't, but after a couple of generations you get to a point where almost everyone is descended from a leader at somepoint. (And also everyone is second cousins with each other but you know what there are some problems that you just have to live with.) I image the clan would look for an omen and just pick a new leader based off of that and start the process all over again. In my experience worst comes to worst just make sure you have a very accurate family tree and trace it back a couple of generations.

Thank you so much! I don't play with any mods for Loudclan, I'm too scared to lose saves to less than stable code. My favorite mod currently is Kori's Awoogen though! I just like to look at the beautiful art mostly. I use mass extinction as population control, so I turn it on and off based on how many cats I have. Two full pages is the upper limit of what I'm willing to deal with, so once a third page opens I turn mass extinction on and after an extinction happens I turn it back off. (also if I dip below 1 full page I turn unknown parents on until I'm back to two pages again). I've found after a couple of generations you can mostly stop worrying about it because the bloodlines have spread so far there's always someone who's a 6th great great cousin or something.

The game generated him Dashpelt! I probably would have picked Dashfoot to stick with the generated them of a boring suffix but to make more sense overall.

#loudclan #loudclanasks #cw blood #minor blood waring #hey folks #the sketching process for moon 29 part three was an ABSOLUTE nightmare the details of which are staying between me and two weeks of ditched #panels but im happy to say that the sketch is finished 8 out of 30 panels are done and I'm very happy to introduce you guys to #the faint beginnings of my favorite ship!#also whatever Wildfirecry is doing #he's certainly doing... something!#clangen

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liahaslosthermind · 7 days ago

Text

~𝐓𝐡𝐞 𝐒𝐩𝐲 𝐌𝐚𝐬𝐭𝐞𝐫'𝐬 𝐒𝐞𝐜𝐫𝐞𝐭~ Part 3

Part 3 of The Spy Master's Secret Find more ACOTAR works here! Summary: The Inner Circle meets the most important person in Azriel's life. Warnings: Lia rewrites what the Carranam bond is to fit her own fantasy, (Mention of) Bad injuries and domestic abuse, (Mention of) Azriel's dad 🤢, Inner Circle loves to STAY in Azriel's business, I actually write Rhys as not an asshole in this one

“My Carranam.” The Spy Master replied.

No one was given time to think, much less respond, before Azriel had commanded everyone to leave the room. They would have been more reluctant to do so, the desire to know what the hell he meant was painful, had the serious look on the strange female’s face, and the look of despair on Azriel’s, had given them the impression this conversation was better left between the two.

Out in the hallway, Cassian finally voiced his concern,

“Should we have left him alone with whoever that was? He isn’t in any state to be fighting back should he ne-”

Amren scoffed at the question. “I’d trust her with him far more than you all.”

“What do you mean? Do you know her?” Elain asked.

“No, but he is her Carranam. You all might not know the significance of such a bond- I don’t even know much about it myself, but I know enough to believe there is no one who would protect and cherish him more.” There was a sort of amazement and respect in Amren’s eyes that told the rest of them that she was right. Gave them enough information to walk away from the bedroom, content on letting Azriel come to them when he was ready.

—

The Inner Circle was no longer content waiting for their Spy Master to make an appearance. All had been sitting at the dining table for what must have been millenia, plates full with no appetite as millions of questions swarmed their heads. Amren had seemingly been the only one to have any idea what any of this could have meant, but the second she got the chance, she disappeared so she wouldn’t be bothered with questions about something that had nothing to do with her.

Finally, Nesta broke the silence.

“Do you think he is purposefully trying to torture us by taking forever?” She asked, eyeing the very apparent shadows in the corner that had been slithering to and from the room since they had all sat down. “Or do you think she is-”

“It would be my fault Azriel was occupied for a bit.” The strange fae announced as she entered the room, Azriel by her side with a slight limp. The two looked… strange together, but also so right. White feathered wings stood tall behind the female, nicely contrasting Azriel’s leathery Illyrian ones. Where he was crowned in darkness and shadows, she seemed to have bathed in light. It should have contrasted each other terribly, but their stark differences only seemed to compliment the other.

It also didn’t escape anyone’s notice how their friend looked thousands of times better than he did just hours earlier.

He was still clearly injured, but far from the edge of death he teetered on these past few days.

“How? Madja could only do so much for him.” Rhysand asked, astonished at how well his brother looked.

She helped him into his seat before taking the empty one next to him. Even as they got comfortable, her hand never left his arm, finding comfort in his touch after days of agony and helplessness.

“Junia is a healer. The best Dawn has to offer.” Azriel said, the pride clear in his voice. It made sense that she- Junia had been from Dawn. A Peregryn and an Illyrian, two lesser fae known for their warrior skills and inherent desire for the skies.

“I am not as skilled as Madja, but it's easier to heal when you know exactly what is wrong, exactly what hurts.” Junia said, rolling her eyes at Azriel’s shameless bragging.

She let out a deep and rich laugh as she looked at everyone’s faces, all pained by the many questions swirling around in there. Feyre noted that she hadn’t heard such a joyous laugh since Azriel had done the same when Elain had gifted him medicine for all the headaches the Inner Circle gave him.

Clearly, whatever bond they had between them was deep.

“You better introduce me, put them out of their misery.” She teased Az, who had been too caught up relishing her laugh, after a very long and rough berating it was nice to see her not seconds away from tearing out his wings.

“R-right. Uh- this is my- well this is-” Azriel stammered.

“Mother above Az, don’t hurt yourself," Cassian amused.

Azriel closed his mouth as he blushed, unsure of how to go about this.

“My name is Junia. As the brooding bat said, I am his Carranam.” Junia answered, side eyeing Azriel.

Keep it together, Az. It's a little pathetic.

Azriel responded to her teasing look with a glare. We haven’t had to tell anyone about this in a while. Why don’t you try to explain it to these idiots if you are so clever.

Rhysand noticed the silent conversation going on between them.

“You can converse like Daemati? Is that your ability?” The High Lord asked her.

They both hesitated, realizing they didn’t really know how their so-called “telepathy” worked.

“No- or I don’t believe so at least. When you communicate with someone, you are doing so verbally, even if not aloud, correct? I don’t hear Azriel’s voice in my head, I just feel what he is trying to tell me, if that makes sense.”

“Like a mating bond?” Feyre questioned.

“Also no. It's not our feelings that are conveyed solely, we can gather more specific meaning from it. Yes, Junia would feel I was not excited for this conversation, but she would also know I was offering her one last chance to leave, should she also not want to deal with all of your… strong personalities.” Azriel responded, looking at Junia. He really didn’t want to have this conversation with his family.

She laughed at his desperation which, while very clear to her, she knew the Inner Circle was none the wiser to the just how far Azriel was willing to go to leave this table. She could see him coming up with escape routes in his head as he picked up his wine glass.

“Oh you poor delicate flower,” She teased.

Unfortunately, they all still noticed the blush that once again appeared on Az’s face, laughing at their scary brother, head tortured of the Night Court, being compared to a ‘delicate flower’.

Downing the rest of his glass, Azriel finally explained.

“A carranam bond isn’t like a mating bond. It comes from an old phrase, A Soul Friend. It gives Junia and I the ability to channel each other's powers, even make them stronger when we are together. Like you noticed, we have a different, more intimate way of communicating, far stronger than Daemati and mates can.”

“How the hell has no one else here heard of this bond?” Nesta asked, skeptical. Seems like something a group of people as obsessed with the mating bond would know about.

“It is rare, extremely so. There are also many… vulnerabilities that come with a bond such as this. To find your carranam is hard enough, most will never be born with one. But to accept such a bond is dangerous. And unfortunately there have been instances of others abusing such a gift. Tying their carranam up to reap their abilities, taking so much from them that both end up going insane. It became illegal in many places and eventually was forgotten by our world.” Junia answered.

“How did you find out what you guys had?” Feyre jumped in.

While this was Junia’s story as much as Azriel’s, she hesitated. Because there was another factor to that story, and she didn’t believe she was the one who should talk about it first.

Another glance between the two, a question asked. Azriel answered it by speaking up, “Junia is from Dawn. After my… mother was released- rescued from my father’s abuse, she wasn’t in wonderful shape. Fortunately, Rhys, Cassian, and myself found a place created by High Lord Thesan’s mother that offered aid to those escaping similar situations, Rosehall. That is where Junia worked as head healer. She helped my mother a lot throughout the years.” Such admiration and gratitude in his voice made several people at the table start to tear up.

Everyone was quiet. While Rhysand, Cassian, and Mor knew the story of Azriel’s mother being sent to Rosehall, they hadn’t known about Junia, just about the healer Az’s mother had gotten along with-

“You are the friend of his mother’s he sends gifts to every Solstice?” Mor asked, having been approached by Azriel for help with buying said gifts many times in the past.

“I thought you picked those gifts out yourself? You didn’t tell me Mor did all the work.” Junia turned to Az.

“I do pick them out, you just have peculiar taste. I have needed her help locating shops to buy such things before. That's it.” Az defended.

I certainly do have peculiar taste she silently said to Az who, again, blushed at the double entendre.

He quickly cleared his throat, “A few years after my mother had entered her care, while I was visiting, there was an attack on Rosehall. It was one of the families of a newer resident enacting revenge for escaping abuse. When many were hurt or dying… or dead, the two of us the only ones available to help, this bond had snapped out because of that desperation. It was new but it felt like it had always been there. We both leaned into the feeling and fortunately it didn’t end terribly. Suddenly, my shadows were able to start healing, and were able to talk to Junia, giving her any info on people who needed her help that she couldn’t see.”

Everyone was astonished at such a story. So different but also so similar to the mating bond.

“Since then we have been each others’ confidants. While we don’t live particularly close, shadow walking gives me the ability to come to him whenever, and vice versa. Plus the connection is always there, even miles upon miles apart.” Junia answered.

“Why keep it a secret?” Cassian questioned, knowing how much a connection like this would matter to Az, but confused because wouldn’t he want his family to know about him having such a bond?

“I am not exactly without enemies, Cas. I couldn’t have a possibility of someone coming after her because of me.” The sound of raw pain in his voice let his family know that this wasn’t something that was simply a fear.

Someone had gone after her in revenge.

“Your secret is safe with us. You are safe with us. Should you need anything, just say the word.” Rhysand offered.

The two carranam looked at each other. “After I spent a while yelling at Azriel for scaring me half to death multiple times in the past few days. We decided that maybe it was best I… step back from Rosehall.” Junia explained, sadness present in her tone as she talked about leaving the place that had been her sole purpose for her entire life. “I have healers on my staff that deserve the promotion, including Azriel’s mother, who has used her experiences to really become a confidant and friend to so many of our residents.”

Azriel’s throat bobbed at the mention of just how much his mom had healed and helped since she escaped his father.

Excitement filled the room at the possibility of adding another to their family. But Junia was still painfully aware of just how many questions everyone had.

“Alright, now that all the nitty gritty is out of the way, you can all begin your interrogation,” she teased.

All at once, tens of questions left everyone’s mouth. Not a single one able to be distinguished over the rest.

Azriel’s hand reached down to hold Junia’s, squeezing her while seeming to say I told you we should have escaped while we could.

They both downed their wine glasses while they waited for the Inner Circle to tire themselves out.

A/N: Originally, this was the end. But I think I created so much backstory and also fell too much in love with Junia not to add more. So please let me know if you'd like more to this series! (And what you’d like to see)

Taglist: @bunnyred-blog1 @that-one-bibliophole @fuckingsimp4azriel @daughterofthemoons-stuff @minaaminaa8 @lilah-asteria @azrielswhore @maksamillion

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#acotar x reader #acotar #azriel x reader #azriel #rhysand #azriel x you #azriel fluff #azriel x oc

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acourtofwhatthefuck · 1 year ago

Text

Practice On Me — Part Thirteen — Azriel x Reader

Summary: Backstreet’s back, ALRIGHT! Or rather, the Bat Boys™️ sort their issues out. Tathaln’s ball is officially announced. Azriel gives Kaeda a piece of his mind. Fin has no business being the sexy dad he is. Roza’s worried about reader.

Word count: 6.3k.

Warnings: None for this part.

All is silent, save for the rhythmic tick-tick-ticking of the clock. Cassian has always hated that clock. Finds it fucking annoying.

But it fills the vacant hole that exists in the absence of conversation. That hole is open and gaping between Cassian and Azriel. It’s not a table that sits between them — it’s a dangerous, yawning chasm.

Az stares at Cass, and Cass feels uncomfortable. He’s seen that cold gaze be levelled on people hundreds of times, thousands. To be on the receiving end feels a little like staring death in the face. He actually kind of wishes that Kaeda hadn’t been sent off to the dorms to sleep off her drunken state, because at least then he wouldn’t be the only one here, being subjected to…this.

So, he stands up, so abruptly that his chair almost topples over, and asks, “Want me to make you some tea?” The question feels stupid the second it leaves his lips.

Azriel’s eyes track him, drink in every uneasy shift and twitch. It’s not that Cass is afraid of Az — though anybody with half a brain cell would be — just that he’s not good in these situations. Situations where he has to be serious and…and listen.

“Cassian.” The shadowsinger’s cold voice stops him before he can move. “When, in our years of friendship, have you ever once made me tea?”

Cass peers over a broad shoulder and shrugs half-heartedly. “First time for everything…”

“Sit.”

The word brooks no room for argument. Cassian does, indeed, sit.

It’s then that Azriel heaves a deep sigh, his entire body taut as a bowstring, and says, “I’m sorry.”

Cass blinks. “What?”

“I’m sorry—for what I did in the mead hall. I…had no right.”

“…But Y/N and I…”

“It’s not for me to dictate whether the two of you should or shouldn’t lie together. My…jealousy…is my problem, and mine alone.”

This is hard, Cassian realises — for Az to say this. For him to face it. And Cass can relate to that. Not everyone can be as silver-tongued as Rhysand. The Mother knows, Cass himself isn’t.

But he also isn’t an idiot. Some people may believe him to be, and that’s their mistake, because being proved wrong is usually the last thing they remember before waking up to a healer standing over them. He’s aware enough of his surroundings to know that something was brewing between Azriel and Y/N for years before Cass took her to bed…or kitchen counter, or…whatever.

“I need to be better,” Cassian offers, “at thinking before I act. Thinking about who I might hurt with my decisions. I’m working on it.”

Az studies his friend, and he feels no anger. If anything, it’s guilt that claws at the shadowsinger. He gave poor Cass a pretty good hiding over something that was, essentially, none of his business. And it could have all been different if Az simply wasn’t a coward, afraid of his feelings.

Something he needs to work on.

And perhaps he’s doing that as, rather than burying the topic, he asks, “What…what actually happened? How did you end up sleeping together? I mean…do you have feelings—”

“No.” Cassian cuts him off, blinking. “Gods, no. I love Y/N, you know that. But not romantically. I just…I felt so damn useless that night, Az. If you’d seen the way Y/N was…the self-loathing. I didn’t know how to help.”

Immediately, Azriel’s brow pinches. “Self-loathing?”

“Because of what her father did to her. When we were flying to Fenlaros, and she was the only one being carried in…”

Azriel slumps back in his chair, feeling like a godsdamned idiot.

He blinks forward and wonders what the fuck the point is in being born a shadowsinger when he obviously can’t read situations very well. Within seconds, it’s clicking into place.

“And then you started that fight with that Fenlarion male,” Cass continued. “and Kaeda just declared that it was her you were fighting over…and everyone has a limit, you know? I think that night was just all too much for Y/N. And she was so upset, so downtrodden…talking about how she hated herself. And I’m not good with words like Rhys is, and I’m not as observant as you are, but I am good at physical touch. Physical comfort. And it seemed like the only thing I could offer in that moment to take that bleakness away from her. But I should have thought about how you would feel—”

“I’m glad you were there for her.” Azriel blurts, realising, with every word, how much he means them. “I wasn’t. I failed her that night.”

“I really didn’t know that the two of you had been exploring things. If I did, I wouldn’t have done it. I mean…that fight you started wasn’t over Kaeda at all, was it?”

Az’s eyes shutter. And it goes against every natural instinct of his to strip himself bare and just…be honest. Every steel wall he’s ever built up is screeching in its effort to stand strong and not be caved in. And those walls were necessary in a life of darkness and hate…but that life is long gone.

What good do those walls do him in an environment where he has love, has people who genuinely care for him? As much as he wants to run and hide from his feelings as he always has…he thinks that the key to happiness may be on the other side of those walls. That a new bravery lays in letting some light filter through the cracks and warm a guarded heart.

His voice is quiet, laced with a self-preserving fear, as he admits, “No. It was not.”

Before Cassian can offer an encouraging response, the front door is swinging open, and Rhysand is kicking snow from his boots and trudging in. Azriel tenses like a threatened animal — but there is no threat here. Only safety, only love. He forces his shoulders to relax.

The violet-eyed male takes in the sight before him. Goes still as he looks between his two friends. “Please tell me this is a positive conversation.”

Cassian inclines his head. “Work in progress. Why don’t you make some tea?”

“Fuck you, make your own tea—”

“Make me some tea—”

“Kiss my ass, dickhole—”

“I’m in love with Y/N.” Azriel blurts.

It promptly shuts the other two males up.

They turn away from their bickering to look at the shadowsinger. He looks…shocked, by his own confession.

“I’m in love with her,” he breathes.

Cass and Rhys share a glance, and then Rhys is slowly approaching the table, carefully taking a seat like he doesn’t want to startle Azriel out of the moment.

“We know, Az.” Rhys tells him gently. “I mean…I think we always suspected…”

“I started that fight in Fenlaros because I was jealous of that damn male having his hands all over her. Saying the things he was saying. It was nothing to do with Kaeda.”

“You should really tell her — Y/N, I mean. Tell her how you feel.”

Azriel’s eyes trace a mark in the table as he admits, “Kind of already have. When she came to speak to me earlier today.”

Another glance is shared between Cassian and Rhys. And both are equally surprised — figure they would have heard something about it. Unless…unless it hadn’t gone down well.

And now that Rhys thinks about it, Y/N had been tense whilst he’d flown her back to Velaris. Taut in his arms and barely uttering a few words. Perhaps this was why.

“Did she…not take it well?” Rhys hedges. He wants to be delicate, not go blasting in at full-force. So rarely do they get to see such a vulnerable side to Az.

Azriel shakes his head once. “It’s not that, it’s…” He clears his throat. “It’s more complicated than that.”

“How?” Cass pushes, and Rhys shoots him a warning glance.

But Azriel doesn’t balk from it, doesn’t slink back in his seat. Instead, he lifts his head, and he levels his friends with a desperate look.

“There’s more that I haven’t told you.” He says.

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A short while later, Az thinks that maybe talking through his feelings is a good thing. Just saying the words has a little bit of weight easing from his chest, his shoulders.

But Cass and Rhys aren’t saying anything at all. Cass and Rhys are staring at him like he has two damn heads.

And then Cassian sits up, barking, “Tathaln Baralas wants what?”

“Exactly what I told you.” Azriel shakes his head. “He wants me to move to Fenlaros and work alongside him. Has some sort of backing from the High Lord, though I’m not sure how much. In a nutshell, Kaeda’s interest in me has always been driven by her father.”

“I knew that little wasp was up to something. You know she tried to kiss me tonight?”

Az shrugs. Really could not give a fuck. “I figured something had happened from the look on your face.”

“I never liked her. Nor her father—”

“Her father,” Rhys cuts in, “walks a very fine line in presuming to exceed in his role as a Camp Lord. His ego and title are going to his head a little, it would seem, if he believes he has the authority to scheme such ideas.”

“It’s a terrible idea.” Cass says. Neither of the other two noticed him get up, but he’s returning to his seat, speaking around a mouthful of food. “All Illyrians in one big camp? They’ll kill each other.”

Rhys is inclined to agree. But he turns a neutral — maybe gentle — expression on Az and asks him, “Do you want to go to Fenlaros?”

It would kill him if Az said yes. Would kill Cass, too. These recent days of being torn apart by tension has been bad enough. Being in different camps and not seeing each other is an almost unbearable thought.

But they would find a way to live with it, if Az decided he wanted to go. They’d find a way to be okay with it.

Such thick silence fills the room that the thudding of all three of their hearts is audible.

But then Azriel replies quietly, “No.”

Neither Rhys nor Cassian bother to hide their relief.

“I told Kaeda I would think about it.” Azriel goes on. “And I told Y/N that I’d promised Kaeda that. But I don’t think I’ve ever really intended to think about it — or needed to. I think…I think I was just using it to bide my time. To create space for myself and…avoid everything else.”

“By everything else,” Cassian chomps into a loaf of bread, “do you mean facing your feelings for Y/N?”

Azriel can’t deny it. He nods. “It’s not an easy thing to face…to be vulnerable. Hiding behind this Fenlaros situation has just been easier. Cowardly, yes, but…easier.”

“You can’t keep pushing her away, though, Az.” Rhys says. “You can’t let her think that you might be leaving if you have no intention of doing so.”

The shadowsinger’s eyes flutter shut, thick, dark lashes grazing his cheekbones. “Do you think I’ve fucked it beyond repair?”

“No.” Cassian offers. “But you will, if you don’t start handling this the right way. Tell Kaeda and Tathaln to fuck off. Tell Y/N you’re in love with her and want to see her naked—”

“Watch it.” Azriel warns quietly, but Cass continues, unperturbed.

“Just start letting more people in. And I’ll stop letting so many people in, because it gets me into trouble. I think…I think we all need to grow up a little. Do better.”

Rhysand’s brow pinches. “What do you mean, we all do? I’ve done nothing other than put my own pleasure aside to advise you idiots. What could I possibly need to do better?”

Cassian shrugs. “That haircut, for one. It’s annoying.”

“And when was the last time your hair saw a comb, Cassian?”

“When was the last time you were generous and made tea for your good, long-suffering friend?”

“So this is about the tea.”

“Of course it’s about the tea, jackass. Zakai clearly isn’t with you for your observational skills…”

Azriel sits back, allowing their bickering to become background noise. There’s a warmth to the sight, the sound, that makes him realise he never again wants a repeat of this situation — of being apart from his friends for days, tension thick between them.

He loves Rhys and Cassian. Loves them dearly.

Another reason why he could never, ever turn his back on this place.

And he finds himself actually being…grateful…that Cass was there for Y/N that night. That she didn’t have to suffer her self-loathing alone.

There’s still a lot to get through, of course. Daunting emotions and truths to face head-on. But as he watches the two loveable idiots in front of him take verbal swipes at each other, it’s the first time in a while that he wonders if things might actually be okay.

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The news is announced the next day, when Lord Devlon gathers a rather colourful bunch of his soldiers in the mead hall and stands at the front, silencing them all with a single shout. Rhys, Cassian and Azriel stand against the far back wall, their arms folded over their chests.

Gods, they hope it’s not another training exercise. Not so soon. Az has things he wants to resolve before he saunters off and possibly gets himself killed.

But Devlon reads the roll of parchment in his hands, a frown contorting his features. He looks up, his eyes very deliberately finding Rhysand as he announces to the room, “A message from the High Lord.”

And every other gaze is then swivelling to turn on Rhys, too. There’s something accusatory about it, like they’re assuming he’s privy to whatever it is their asses have been dragged out of bed to hear.

He isn’t. He wants to be in bed, too.

“Looks like you pricks better get your dancing shoes ready.” Devlon raises his eyebrows. “The High Lord is calling for a ball. Legions from all camps invited.”

This — this is exciting news for the brutish males who could fill the mead hall with their egos alone. Not because they have a particular affinity for dancing, but because amongst themselves, they’re already murmuring about which particular camps they dislike for some reason or other, and what they plan to do about it. So many bloodthirsty streaks are painted in those males’ eyes, stamping out the tiredness that lay there only moments before.

Nothing pricks an Illyrian male’s ears up quite like the prospect of a fight.

“The legions from each camp have been carefully selected, and you lucky fuckers will be representing Windhaven.” The Camp Lord continues, disdain dripping from his voice. He wants his men out there training in the cold, not prancing around a dance floor. “Plus-ones are allowed, also, so it might be time to splash out on a pretty gown for whoever is warming your bed these days. The ball is to be held on Starfall, at a neutral venue of the High Lord’s choosing, and I expect you all to make Windhaven — and me — look good. Any questions?”

“Do we actually have to dance?” One male asks, while another one pipes up with, “Will those pricks from Camp Steelshore be there?”

Rhys shuts out the litany of battling voices as he turns a concerned look on Az and Cass. Their expressions mirror his own. Something about this feels…off.

So while he looks like he’s merely lounging against the wall, hands in his pockets, he sends his inner claws spearing straight for Devlon’s mind. He doesn’t give away what he’s doing, not even slightly, as he roots around in the Camp Lord’s thoughts and grabs for his glimpse of the letter. Rhys scans it, drops the thought, and he’s out of Devlon’s mind and straightening himself up before the male can so much as flinch.

“Let’s go.” He tells his friends, and not Devlon nor the males around them seem to care as Azriel and Cassian follow him, the formidable trio traipsing out into the thawing snow, regardless of whether the meeting is over or not.

They’re halfway back to the house, safely out of earshot, when Cassian finally barks, “A ball? What the fuck?”

“At the request of Tathaln Baralas.” Rhys reveals. “That’s what the letter said. He took the idea to my father, and the asshole is humouring him. This has all got to be part of Tathaln’s plan.”

Cassian scowls and spits his disdain at the ground. “Someone needs to drive a poison arrow through that prick’s heart already. I don’t like this one bit.”

“It’s my father’s intentions I’m worried about.” Rhys shakes his head. “Tathaln only has the power that my father gives him. One word from him and this idea could be snuffed out and never mentioned again. And I expected that to be the case. Arrogant as fuck he may be, but my father isn’t stupid. He’ll know what a terrible idea this is, and I would have predicted that he’d laugh in Tathaln’s face for mentioning it. I didn’t think he’d actually entertain it…which means—”

“There’s something in it for him.” Azriel finishes.

Rhysand nods. “Every single move and choice my father makes is, ultimately, for his own gain. He would never agree to anything if he weren’t getting something out of it himself. Whatever Tathaln has proposed to him…my father will be using it for his own gain.”

Cassian opens the door to the cottage and strides in, forgetting — as always — to kick the snow from his boots. “What, though?” He asks. “What could Tathaln have that your father could want?”

Rhys shrugs and waves a hand, magic promptly mopping up the wet, melting trail left in Cassian’s wake. “That, I don’t know.”

“So what do we do?” Az watches him closely, trying to read the thoughts on the male’s face. His shadows reach out to him, too. “Are you going to talk to your father? Make him see how ridiculous this idea is?”

“No,” Rhys shakes his head. “There would be no point. I could lay a whole host of truths out to my father, and he’d go against them on ego alone. He must want something badly enough for him to be throwing money into it. This ball won’t be cheap.”

“And it won’t be a ball, either.” Cassian cocks an eyebrow. Roots through the kitchen cupboards for food. “Blood will be spilled. And you can’t dance on blood. I’ve tried. Too slippy.”

Rhys chooses to ignore that little scrap of information. Mostly because he doesn’t doubt it for a second. “I don’t want us to pre-empt anything.” He says. “If I go straight to my father with concerns about any of this, it could blow up in our faces, instead. For the time being, I think we should just…go along with it. Watch it play out, and see what happens. My father is unpredictable. Even I can’t tell you what goes on in his head.”

“I can speak with Kaeda.” Az clears his throat. “See if she’ll tell me anything.”

“You have fun with that.” Cassian mumbles, biting into something. “I’d sooner chop my balls off and nail them to the front door.”

“Such a way with words. It’s no wonder, really, that females fall at your feet.”

Cass shoots him a wicked grin. And this…this is nice. What they’ve both missed. This is normal.

“I’ll keep an eye and ear out for anything.” Rhys drags them back to the subject at hand. “But my father’s good at not letting anyone know things until he wants them to know them. And he’s clearly serious about this.”

Cassian swallows. Takes another bite. “And until then? Until we know what he’s even serious about?”

Violet eyes sparkle with mischief, and one side of Rhysand’s lips tips up. “Until then, boys,” he says, “you’d better practice your dancing.”

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Azriel really hopes she’s not there, but sure enough, when he enters his room at the dorms, Kaeda is sitting up in his bed.

It gives him a little bit of satisfaction to see her look…less than perfect, for once. Her hair is knotted, and even the vibrancy of the red shade seems a little dulled. Her skin is sallow, her eyes bleary. He wonders if she’s as miserable as she currently looks.

She beholds him with a strangely coy look, like she’s waiting for him to rip into her. But if she really knew the shadowsinger, she’d know that that is not his style. He does not shout. He rarely fights physically. His danger lies in his quiet voice and icy stare.

Kaeda’s tired eyes fall to the blanket pooled around her waist, and she murmurs, “You’re angry with me.” Her throat bobs with a swallow. “I understand. But I appreciate you putting me to sleep in here when I was in a vulnerable state.”

“I would have done it for anyone.” Az presses his back against the wall, folding his arms. “Don’t let it go to your head.”

The female merely bows her head. Doesn’t bother to argue.

“I have a question.” Azriel then says. “I’d like an answer.”

“I know that Cassian has probably told you about last night, and all I can say is I’m sorry. I shouldn’t have kissed him. I was drunk and upset and I—”

“I don’t care about that.” He really doesn’t, and it shows on his face. “I want to know what your father is playing at by organising an Illyrian ball. I don’t believe for a second that the gesture is an innocent one.”

She glances down again, but Azriel doesn’t buy the coy act for one moment.

“Kaeda.” His voice is laced with warning. “Tell me.”

“It’s just…a ball. A ball to have all camps in one place, so he can get a good look at what each one has to offer. It’s nothing sinister.”

“So, a chance for him to scout more supporters for his cause.”

“He’s trying to make a change, Azriel. A good one—”

“He’s interfering with lives. Tearing families apart.”

“Good results require difficult choices.” Her voice hardens.

The shadowsinger bites out a cold, brusque laugh, turning away from her. “Mother above, he has you trained well.”

There’s movement behind him. Kaeda is kicking the sheets away and pushing to her feet. And she’s…seething.

“You would laugh in the face of somebody trying to make a positive change?” She snaps. “What reason have you to be so arrogant? At least my father is trying to make a difference. All you’re doing is clinging to a miserable life in a miserable place where you don’t even have a family or home of your own—”

“Except that I do.” Azriel rounds on her so quickly that his wing knocks a fragrance bottle off a shelf. “I may not have your riches, and that’s fine, because I have a group of people — a family I made — who love me enough to care whether or not I come home at night. Who want nothing less for me than happiness and contentedness, and not just to use me as a pawn in some convoluted plan that will do more harm than good. I have reason to be in Windhaven, whether it’s miserable or not. I have love here. So much of it. And there’s nothing — not a damn thing — that would make me turn my back on it.”

Something in his impassioned speech clearly hits a nerve with Kaeda. She goes still.

And she looks…small, despite being fairly tall. She looks…insignificant.

Her eyes fill with tears. One spills over and rolls down her cheek as she whispers, “Please, Azriel.”

Azriel says nothing. Stares at her.

“Please.” She takes a step closer. “I’m not above begging. I…” Her voice cracks. “I need this. I need you to say yes—”

“Your father,” he interrupts quietly, “is playing a very dangerous game. And he’s using you to do it.”

“You don’t understand. I…if I can’t give him what he wants, I’m finished. I’ll have no home to go to, nobody on my side.”

“You already have nobody on your side. You’re his daughter and he’s dangling your livelihood over your head and ready to snatch it away if he doesn’t get what he wants. You’re already finished.”

“Please.” She says again. Tears are streaming, now, and she tries fruitlessly to wipe them away. “Please, just…if this is about Y/N—”

“Do not,” he grits out, “bring her into this.”

“She’s already in this. I know that you want her and not me…that you always have…and that’s fine. Bring her to Fenlaros with you, if you must. I’m sure my father could be persuaded on that. But just…please—”

“You’re not listening, Kaeda. This isn’t just about my family. It’s about all the other families that would be separated, ripped apart by your father’s scheming. He’s power hungry. This is just the beginning of a whole host of self-serving plans that will bring him glory — do not doubt that for a second. People like him are never satisfied, and he needs to be stopped. Not encouraged.”

“You’re wrong.” Her voice is so weak, Az isn’t convinced she believes her own words. “He just wants a better future for Illyria—”

“No.” Az levels her with a pointed look. “He wants a better future for himself. I will not play a part in that, and neither will my loved ones.”

“Azriel, please—”

“I will attend your father’s ball, just as Lord Devlon has ordered me to do.” He breezes to the door, not caring that this is his room he’s leaving her behind in. He stops, palm poised on the handle. “But as for delivering a male straight into your father’s den? You better start trying that seduction on somebody else. Because there is nothing that would make me follow you into that camp.”

He leaves without a glance back. And while it sits uncomfortably inside him that he made a female cry…he can’t help feeling like he’s finally doing the right thing.

About time, too.

✧: *✧･ﾟ✧･ﾟ: *✧･ﾟ✧･ﾟ: *✧･ﾟ✧･ﾟ: *✧･ﾟ✧･ﾟ: *✧･ﾟ

This — this is the last thing you ever would have expected of coming to Velaris.

The tonic you’d needed was an extended amount of girl time with Roza. And yet here you are…in the High Lord’s arms.

“This is useless.” You murmur, aware of every single place your body brushes against his. One of his hands is a firm weight on the small of your back, the other clasping yours. “I’m not a natural dancer. Fuck, I’ve never even been to a dance.”

Fin’s mouth tips up at the corners. “There’s that filthy mouth.” His hand lets go of yours, opting to move up to the cut of your jaw, where he allows his thumb to rest on your lower lip. “You,” the pad of it swipes slowly over your mouth, “are going to be exquisite.”

You square your shoulders. Cock a challenging eyebrow. “Is that genuine encouragement, High Lord? Or an order?”

A deep chuckle. Slowly — reluctantly —he lets his hand drop. “Both.”

Flirting with him like this, playing the part of the High Lord’s pet, is a necessary evil. You’re just so surprisingly good at it that you can’t discern whether it’s an affront to him, or to Roza. Or both.

But you can’t deny that you’ve been flattered by his undivided attention this past week. And perhaps he’s been flattered by yours, too.

Mother bless Roza for her undying support. The best you can do for her, right now, is to keep her in the loop. She merely tells you to be careful.

But a week — a week of cosying up to Fin, of breaking through his exterior and appealing yourself to him. You humour him with these dance lessons, with the preposterously expensive shopping trips and dinners, the late night fireside conversations. Anything, everything, to get him to tell you what truth lies behind the excited glint in his eyes whenever he speaks of the ball. To tell you what it is he’s planning.

Perhaps you’re not appealing enough. You are no more aware than anyone else. And that’s really fucking frustrating.

At least your hard work has kept you from thinking about Azriel every five minutes.

Your breath still heaving from your dance efforts, you make your way over to the table of refreshments by the huge, arcing windows that overlook the city. The High Lord’s palace, you have to admit, is a place you might miss once you’re back in Windhaven. You’ve never been one for luxury, never had more than a few things to your name — but the views are what makes you feel like the richest person in all of Prythian. These are not the cold, barren views of your camp, but a place of such vibrancy, it sometimes makes you want to cry. It’s like the setting of a storybook, laid out right before you.

From behind, slow, graceful footsteps sweep across the wooden floor. Fin comes to a stop so closely behind you that his body heat encases you.

Fingertips make contact with your skin, the back of your neck. The sleeveless tunic you wore for your practice now feels like nothing more than a paper towel.

“You have such beautiful skin.” Fin says roughly, and you tense. So far, this week, he’s kept a respectful distance away. Hasn’t put you in any awkward positions.

You pivot under his touch, pressing your back up against the table enough that his hand drops. It’s not entirely for show as you smile apologetically and tell him, “Sorry — scars.”

Such genuine, slicing rage fills his face. The intensity of it almost knocks you breathless.

“I will kill him.” He says the words like a lover’s promise. “With my bare hands, I will kill him for taking your wings.”

He had the power to stop the practice before you were even born. He is very old — over nine-hundred-years — and very powerful. What he says, goes.

And yet…he means it. You can see it. And perhaps you have seen so much unkindness, such brutality, that little scraps of ferocity, of passion, in your defence, make you a blinded fool.

But a part of him — however small — actually cares about you. Enough to mark your abuser for death.

But your father’s blood will soak your hands, and yours only.

You smile up at him, wickedly, cunningly, prettily. “No, you won’t.” You reply. “Because I will do it first.”

And the fury in his stare simmers immediately to a different sort of heat. Your words are a flirtation to him — a cut of raw meat dangled above a hungry, waiting animal. They make him feel something.

“Such a murderous little thing.” His soft laugh caresses your skin. He sounds pleased — impressed. “I like that. I like it a lot.”

“I would hope so. I am to be your special guest at the ball, after all.” A small voice in your head wants to coax him; tell me what you’re planning, tell me what to expect.

But, as always, he steers the conversation away, a vague, mysterious smile on his face. “Do you like it here in Velaris, my murderess?”

“I do, very much so.”

“I can’t help pondering how much you would thrive here. You were made for so much more than Windhaven. Illyria, even.”

A soft, coy smile — one that comes from deep within that part of you that wants the praise, the compliments — that needs them. “Many would disagree with you.”

“Show them to me, and I will twist their minds until they see in you what I do.”

“And what is it you see in me?” A disingenuous little liar. A good actress. A traitor.

Fin leans down, and for one startling, heart-stopping, stomach-lurching moment, you think his mouth might meet yours.

But his lips brush over your cheek in a tender, barely-there caress. He presses a kiss to the skin before retracting. Straightening himself out. The way he slides his hands into his pockets with casual arrogance reminds you so much of Rhys that you miss your friend instantaneously.

“I see beauty that is unappreciated, and intelligence that is underestimated.” Fin says. “And I see a female that I wouldn’t mind having at my side.” His eyes trace you from head to toe. “I wouldn’t mind it at all.”

No response sits on your tongue. You think you might be too surprised by the genuine praise. The fact that the High Lord actually feels some level of affection towards you.

Maybe you’re not so bad at these games.

He turns without waiting for your response, and only when he’s at the door does he make eye contact with you over his shoulder.

“Keep practicing the dancing, my murderess.” He says. “We’ll make a fine pair at that ball.”

✧: *✧･ﾟ✧･ﾟ: *✧･ﾟ✧･ﾟ: *✧･ﾟ✧･ﾟ: *✧･ﾟ✧･ﾟ: *✧･ﾟ

If Roza weren’t so worried, she might laugh at the three expressions of outrage that meet her when she strolls into the cottage.

Rhysand jumps up immediately and demands, “Did you fly here? You’re supposed to be resting.”

Roza merely rolls her eyes and shuts the door behind her. “Don’t get your undergarments in a bunch, Rhysand. I’m pregnant — not on my death bed. The babe is fine.”

Her son does not look convinced. Neither do Azriel or Cassian. As if they’re, like, experts on pregnancy, or something.

“What are you doing here, mother?” Rhys stalks straight to the fire and stokes it. Then straight over to the kitchen to make a hot drink. “Is everything alright?”

“Yes. Mostly.” Roza pauses. “I hope.”

Azriel sits up at that. “Is Y/N alright?”

“She’s fine.” If playing games with the High Lord of the Night Court can be considered fine. Roza eases herself into a seat, and Cassian is promptly propping cushions behind her back. “I want to talk to you about the ball.”

Cass’s lips turn up into a half-smile. “We’ll be on our best behaviour, Roz. Promise.”

“You’d better be. Because I want all three of you looking out for Y/N at that ball, do you hear me?”

The command is a firm one, and yet the three males don’t straighten up at her matriarchal tone like they usually do. Instead, they share a puzzled glance, frowns pinching their features.

“It’s a ball for Illyrian soldiers and their guests of choice.” Rhys explains, carrying a steaming mug over to her. “None of us are bringing her along. Not to that.”

“You may not be.” Roza slides a protective hand over her bump. “But your father is.”

All three males go so preternaturally still, it’s almost frightening.

Rhys bites out, quietly, “What?”

“Your father is taking Y/N to the ball as his special guest. He’s bought her a gown, taught her to dance — he’s serious about this.”

“He can’t.” The shadowsinger’s face is like rolling thunder. “He cannot take her there. All those males—”

“That’s precisely why I’m not attending. He needs someone in my place, and he’s taking Y/N.”

“He can choose someone else.” Azriel’s clipped tone, his panic, is not at all personal to Roza. Usually, he would never speak to her in such a way, but—

But this is Y/N they’re talking about. Y/N in the High Lord’s hands, at a ball with so many Illyrian males, too many Illyrian males.

“Watch your tone, Azriel.” Rhys warns, but Roza is holding up a hand. Because she gets it — the panic.

“I’ve tried telling him to take somebody, anybody, else.” She says. “He’s insistent — absolutely adamant that he wants Y/N.”

“But why?” Cassian frowns.

“I don’t know. I don’t know if his kindness to her is genuine or not.” She shakes her head, absentmindedly stroking her bump. “All I know is that he’s taking Y/N to that ball, and I’m not going to be there. You know, Rhysand, that there is no changing your father’s mind once it’s set. I need the three of you to look out for her.”

Because Y/N is just as much a daughter to Roza as the little girl growing in her belly. They know that.

Rhys inclines his head, reaching out to place a hand over Roza’s. “We will, mother.” He promises. “Whatever game he’s playing…we’ll look after Y/N.”

Roza’s eyes dart to Azriel, to Cassian. “Do you promise?”

“We promise.” Cassian, unfazed as always, grins. “You just focus on the little one, Roz.”

Azriel’s face is grave, but he nods once. “We won’t let her out of our sight.”

Y/N is in good hands with them, Roza knows. She may even be in good hands with Fin, depending on what his true intentions are. Perhaps being at the High Lord’s side is the safest place she can be. It’s an unknown.

But one thing Azriel does know, as he wishes and wishes for this damn ball to just be over already, is that he’s wracked with guilt.

He can’t help feeling like it’s his fault — that his actions, his behaviour, chased Y/N right into a viper’s den.

That he’ll stop at nothing to get her out of it.

pom tags: @dream-alittlebiggerdarling @sirenpearldust @queercodedcharacter @azriels-shadowsinger @ruler-of-hades @demi03 @magicaldragonlady @abrielletargaryen @ralsieq @v3lv3tf0x @achase2002 @feyretopia @hayrunnwr @don’t-feed-the-hipsters @brekkershadowsinger @piceous21 @bloodicka @acourtofinkandpapyrus @riri-is-agirlie @siriusement @4valyries @socmono @azriels-mate123 @acourtofbatboydreams @katherinearcheron @nesemi @lupinswolfsbanes @dreaming-unafraid @dxnniiix @cyrygher @liddyr03 @lmllsl @nightless @teenageeggscissorslawyer @brighterthanlonelythoughts @blitz-fall @maybefoxysouls @mschanand1erbong @juiceboxreads @bangtanbecks @florencemtrash @hyemishii @obixix @thenovarose @meshellexplosionmurder @angzlxna @lissy31xoxo-blog @supernatural99 @positivewitch @art3-m1ss @milfhunter-pdx @bbuckysbeardd @coralseacourt @towhateverend87 @sspookz @bird-on-the-wire33 @morrie-rose @megwan @catscanteleport @sevikas-whore @thickthighs-sadeyes @hihelloitsbooktimeppl

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starrrcane · 17 days ago

Text

The Underworld Beneath Piltover chapter one:The surface

sevika x reader

Takes place in pre-season one

Summery: Sevika x nurse!reader who has graduated from a university in Piltover and has been stationed in the Undercity to provide services to those who cannot afford it, where she meets sevika.

Warning: none for this chapter. But eventual smut

Notes: Please don’t forget this is taking place before season one‼️ this is my first multiple chapter fanfiction, if this does well I might actually write multiple parts. This takes place pre-act one season 1

Piltover had always been a city of stark contrasts—gleaming towers of progress, their glass facades reflecting an unyielding sun, while the Underbelly beneath it writhed in shadow. The bustle of innovation and intellect existed above, while violence, desperation, and survival ruled the depths below. But for you, freshly graduated from the prestigious medical university of Piltover, there was only one truth: the city was a place of opportunity. It was a chance to prove your worth, to be a part of something larger, something that would make your parents proud. That is, until your advisors handed you a peculiar assignment.

"Go to the Undercity," they had said, with a sort of dismissive finality. "We have an agreement with a businessman named Silco. He runs some operations down there, and you’ll be helping with whatever injuries his people get into."

Silco. A name you had heard whispered in huddled corners, spoken with a reverence that both intrigued and unsettled you. You had expected it to be just another simple job—work with the injured, make your rounds, keep the peace.

You were wrong.

---

The hum of the city above was a distant murmur as you stepped off the rickety elevator that took you into the depths of Zaun, the Underworld where little sunlight reached, and the air was thick with the smell of chemicals and oil. The people here lived in constant struggle—fighting for their survival, for any scrap of hope in a city that seemed to ignore them.

At first glance, the place was dark, chaotic, and a little terrifying, but the further you ventured, the more you realized it was a world of its own—raw, dangerous, but oddly familiar. A place where only the strongest survived, and in your case, the most skilled healer.

"Welcome to your new home," said a voice from behind you, cool and composed.

You turned to see a woman—tall, with dark hair, and an aura that radiated control and authority. Her eyes, however, were sharp, like knives. Sevika.

She was Silco’s right hand women. You had heard of her, of course, the enforcer, the one who kept things running smoothly in the shadows of Zaun. Her reputation preceded her: cold, efficient, and—at least from what you had gathered—somehow untouchable.

"Silco has assigned me to show you around," Sevika continued, her tone as neutral as ever, though there was a slight edge to it that suggested she wasn’t exactly thrilled by the task. "Don’t expect any luxury here. This isn’t Piltover."

Her eyes narrowed as she glanced at you, though there was no clear sign of animosity. Just... wariness. A wariness that somehow felt more personal than professional.

"I don’t need a tour," you said, trying to meet her gaze with equal intensity. You could handle this. You had been trained for this. "Just point me to where I’ll be staying."

"Right down the hall." Sevika gestured toward a door that was far less polished than what you were accustomed to, but you would make do. You had no choice.

"And I assume you’ll be living nearby," you added, though it was more of a statement than a question. You had heard about her proximity to Silco’s operations, and the way people spoke of her hinted at a strange, almost familial bond.

She paused, just for a second, before nodding. "Right next door."

The words hung between you, their meaning ambiguous, like a challenge in disguise.

Sevika turned on her heel and walked away, her heavy boots clicking against the steel floor. You followed her down the hallway, your mind racing. There was something about her—the way she carried herself, the way her eyes lingered for just a fraction of a second too long on your face—that made you uneasy. But there was more to it than that. There was an unspoken tension, a magnetic pull between you that you couldn't quite define.

---

Later that evening, in the solitude of your apartment, you began to unpack your things. The room was sparse, though functional—a bed, a small desk, a few shelves for supplies. You could almost hear the hum of the city outside, the pulse of it echoing in the walls. But it was quieter here than it had been in Piltover. The silence felt almost oppressive.

The window overlooking the dim streets of Zaun cast a pale light over your work, and for the first time, you allowed yourself to think about what you had gotten into. This was no ordinary assignment. Silco wasn’t just a businessman, as your advisors had suggested. He was a kingpin, a figure in the underworld of Zaun who controlled everything from crime to the very air they breathed. And you were here to heal his people—his *henchmen*, as some called them.

A knock at your door interrupted your thoughts.

You opened it to find Sevika standing in the hallway, her arms crossed over her chest, as if she were weighing whether or not to speak.

"I’ll be going on a supply run tonight," she said, her voice low. "We’re going to need you to patch up some of the boys once we get back. Nothing too severe, but... be ready."

You nodded, still uncertain about the woman who stood before you. She was cold, distant, and appeared to have no interest in making friends with you. But there was something about the way she stood, the way her gaze flicked over you with a strange intensity.

She was trying not to care.

"Sure. I’ll be ready," you replied, though you couldn’t help but notice the way her eyes lingered on you for a moment longer than necessary before she turned away.

"Good," Sevika said, her voice just a little softer than before. "Don’t get too comfortable. The Undercity has a way of breaking people."

And with that, she walked off down the hall, disappearing into the darkness of the night.

---

In the silence that followed, you couldn’t shake the feeling that something had shifted. Sevika was difficult to read, but you could feel the tension between you—subtle, unspoken, yet undeniable. She was trying her best not to like you, to keep her distance, to remain indifferent. But that was fine, you thought. You didn’t need her approval. You had your own mission.

Still, the more time you spent in the Underworld, the more you realized that there were some things—some people—that couldn’t be ignored.

And Sevika... Sevika was definitely one of them.

#sevika x reader #arcane x reader #arcane #sevika arcane x reader #lesbian

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captainlunaxmen · 1 month ago

Text

Dragon's Healer

Chapter 1

Daemyra x fem!reader (very brief mention of Harwin Strong x fem!reader)

Dark!Aemond x fem!reader (in future chapters)

I'm trying new things... I just hope you'll like it.

Let me know if you want to be tagging future chapter and let me know what you think❤️

Chapter summary: The reader is Rhaenyra's lady-in-waiting. They share more than a friendship. This, first chapter follows the events leading to the questioning of Luke's legitimacy.

Warning: death, hinting at infertility, very very vague hint to rape.

I walk as quickly as I can, trying to hide my excitement and eagerness from the eyes of the courts, towards Rhaenyra's chambers.

The maesters apparently needed more ointments right this morning, adding to Rhaenyra not wanting me to help her through labour, I suspect I'll be the last one to see the baby. Once I notice I'm alone, I literally rush to her door and knock softly on it.

"It's me." I softly say, "may I, princess?"

"Come in." Her muffled voice comes from beside the door.

I open the doors, quick to close them again when I see Harwin Strong holding the newborn. I fondly smile at him then my eyes fall to Rhaenyra's tired figure.

"How are you feeling, princess?" I ask, walking to stand next to Harwin looking at the baby.

"You already know the answer." She weakly chuckles.

"He's so pretty." I say and look at the guard nodding his head, "he got your nose."

"And the family's insolence, apparently." Rhaenyra adds and I chuckle, "I believe he might have your mouth."

"I'm afraid that's not possible, my dear." I sadly tell her, smiling nonetheless.

"You know you're his mother just as I am." She tells me firmly.

"She's not wrong." Harwin agrees and I playfully glare at him.

"It's a nice thought." I say, caressing the little boy's cheek with a finger.

"Well, Jace and Luke consider you like a second mother." She insists.

"It's not the same thing."

"You love them like they were your own. They can feel it." Harwin says softly, making me look up at him catching his loving gaze on me.

"Don't look at me like that." I jokingly scold him.

"You know, I think he took her insolence." He teases, talking to the Targaryen princess.

"She's part of the family, my statement remains truthful." She smiles brightly and I decide it's time to join her on the small couch.

"Are you okay?" I check on her.

"I am."

"Why are you all dressed?" I ask, just noticing her wearing one of her dresses.

"The queen wanted to see the baby." She sighs, I'm at loss for words, briefly looking at Harwin.

"Right after you gave birth?" I ask and she nods, "gods... couldn't she come herself?"

"And give her the satisfaction?"

I sighs deeply, shaking my head.

"Let's just hope he won't take after you in stubbornness." I softly smile at her, caressing her cheek with my hand, she moves hers to gently grab mine and hold it to her. "Do you need anything?"

"I promise you, I'm fine." She nods, letting my hand go.

"So... does he have a name already or?" I ask, standing up again to walk to the baby in Harwin's arms.

"Jeoffrey." Rhaenyra answers.

"Jeoffrey?"

"Laenor chose it." She tells me. That gives me everything I need to understand, I nod my head and go back at looking at Jeoffrey.

"So so pretty."

"You two would look amazing as parent." I hear Rhaenyra's soft voice commenting. I sadly smile at Harwin, he returns it.

"May I?" I ask him to hold the baby.

"Oh of course, my lady." He says, carefully passing the baby into my arms, "I have duties to attend to anyway."

"Go and protect us, Commander." I smile at him.

"Princess." He nods at Rhaenyra, "my lady." He nods at me, I see him linger for a moment before exiting the room.

I walk to Rhaenyra, rocking the baby in my arms to keep him asleep.

"He's really pretty, love." I say.

"After all the effort I put, I hope so." She smiles.

"Did Alicent say anything?" I ask.

"Nothing... as always she merely implies things." She winces slightly sitting up.

"Careful." I scold her, "get some rest."

"Yes, yes," she dismisses me, "I meant it, you know."

"What?" I absently ask, smiling at the baby as I put him in his crib.

"You and Harwin would make amazing parents."

"Rhae... you know I can't..." I sadly say, sitting with her.

"You never tried again..." she gently takes my hand.

"The maesters said it's impossible... and I don't see it happening with Harwin... not after all these allegations, at least." I squeeze her hand, "it's okay, you said Luke and Jace consider me like a mother... that's enough."

"But..." she sighs, determined, I admire how even in her tired condition she's still stubborn as always, "maybe your condition changed and..."

"Rhaenyra," I stop her, "I've never bled... I've never... before your parents took me in, there have been situations in which I could've... fallen pregnant, yet... I never did, in those cases thankfully, but still... I don't think it will ever happen" I sadly explain to her, "it's okay. And, I mean, marrying the commander would probably imply me moving away from here. Him becoming lord and me his lady wife... would you want me away?"

"I would never, you know that. I just see you with Jace and Luke... even with Alicent's children. And you deserve it." Her smiles warms my heart.

"I'm happy as I am. I promise you." I lean to kiss her softly.

She kisses me back, I can feel she's still tired from labour, so I let her lay a little more.

"If it ever becomes too much for you, I want you to tell me, please?" She tells me, firmly but keeping a hint of sweetness in her tone.

"Is that an order, princess?" I tease.

"It definitely is." She grins, "and just you wait until I'm fully recovered."

"Ooh is that a threat?" I grin too, standing up.

"It depends on how wet it gets you." She winks and I open my mouth to answer, but nothing comes out. Her grins only widens, "I got my answer."

"Oh, fine... let me get you to bed so you can rest and stop teasing me." I offer my arm to her, she gladly takes it and let me guide her to her bed.

"Just you wait." She teases.

"I'll wait." I smile, "do you need anything? Want me to call a maid?"

"I'm fine, my love." She reassures me, "I'll see you later."

"Alright. Rest, princess." I say before leaving her chambers.

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

I got announced by the guard, not that I care much to wait as I enter the room, glad to have found Alicent.

Before I could start speaking, I notice Aemond's hurt expression.

"What happened?" I ask, confused as I also notice the boy's state.

"He went into the caves to... claim a dragon." The queen sighs deeply.

"Again?" I ask, turning to Aemond, his hurt expression turns slightly into one of shame, almost, and I too sigh, "what did they do?"

"What do you think they did?" Alicent slightly snaps at me. "Those kids made fun of him again.."

"I'm not asking you." I state, firmly, "you weren't there, were you? Tough, I'm pretty sure your oldest son was." I glare at her accusations, "you were too busy summoning a woman who had just given birth to show you the baby."

"I didn't as-"

"We can talk about it later, your highness." I cut her off, "that is not the pressing matter right now, don't you think?"

"It is not." She reluctantly agrees, "that's why I need to speak with the king about it." She then adress her son, "remember what we said."

Aemond nods, not exactly convinced, but he does. Alicent gives me a look before exiting the room.

I let out a long sigh, then I cross my arms in front of me and look at Aemond, who keeps avoiding my eyes, looking down at the floor.

"So? Should I try to guess or you want to tell me?" I adress the matter again, the boy briefly looks at me before letting out a puff of breath.

"They made fun of me again." He simply says.

"Yes, your mother said so." I nod, "but what happened?"

"They dressed a pig like a dragon... they made wings and all." He explains, looking at the ground.

I face soften, now noticing a small bruise on his forehead.

"Come, let's put something on that bruise." I motion for him to go sit by the table.

I walk to him as I take out a small bottle from the bag I always carry around, and a small tissue.

"Why do you think I don't have a dragon?" He suddenly asks, before I could raise the tissue, I stop my movement and sigh, lowering my arm.

"Well, I'm afraid I'm not the right person to ask that."I say softly, raising again my hand and finally cure his small wound.

"You can't stop it anymore." I hear Haelena mutter, I pay her no mind for now, I instead focus on Aemond.

"I don't understand it." He says.

"Maybe you're destined to claim one of the famous unclaimed dragons. Or maybe you just need to wait a little longer than them." I sigh, softly, hoping to make him feel at ease, "regardless, do not listen to their mockery. You all are still kids, nothing you say or do is always what you truly mean. Don't take their action to heart, you are not what they claim."

"And what am I?" He asks, almost defeated. I out down the tissue, and I make sure he looks at me.

"You are a smart kid, I've never seen anyone learning old valyrian as fast as you. You understand things on a deeper level, you're not defined by a dragon. Remember that, okay?" I urge him, he nods and I sweetly smile at him, patting his shoulder and standing up, "and never say never, maybe you'll claim a dragon tomorrow," I walk to the door, " or the day after, or the day after that. Now c'mon, I believe you have training with Cole."

"Yes, I do." He nods and he walks towards me.

"I guess I'll try," I whisper, "Haelena, would you like to join me in the gardens?"

"I'd like to, but I'm needed here." She says, flatly.

I look at Aemond who shrugs and shakes his head.

"If you change you mind, send for me." I wait a moment for an answer that never comes, and with Aemond walk out towards the training ground.

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

As soon as I heard what happened with Cole, I went looking for Harwin, hoping to find him alone.

I'm lucky enough to find him alone, I saw his father walking away, understandably upset. I walk to him and, silently, I tell him to follow me.

Once we're in a more secluded area, I check one more time in case there are unwanted ears nearby. Then I turn to him.

"What were you thinking?!" I whisper yell at him.

"I'm... I'm sorry, I couldn't see anymore." He softly says, looking down.

"Clearly." I sternly reply.

"I just... he treats them with less respect then the queen's, he-"

"I know that. He's always done that, what the fuck happened for you to hit him?" I ask, frustrated, I'm scared something bad could happen to him.

"He wasn't giving them any useful instructions, cruelty instead of tactics, then the insinuating started..." he explains.

"Harwin..." I sigh, "people's been insinuating since Jace was born, why lose your temper for something Cole ever said? He's just a bitter man, finding comfort in humiliation and cruelty."

"He tried to subtly call you a whore." He finally raises his eyes to meet mine, "tried, because I didn't let him finish the sentence."

His proud smirk make me chuckle a little, but I recollect myself quickly.

"Everyone has called me that at some point, Harwin, it's not the worts I've heard." I take him hands in mine, "they've called me worse than that." When I catch his questioning look I go on, "I've been called an opportunist, I've been called a snake, a non-woman, broken or contagious... whore is just... nothing."

"I couldn't stand him saying it." He grits his teeth in frustration, "and you're not broken, you-"

"Harwin, while I appreciate it when you compliment me and are so sweet to me, this is serious. You could be sent away." I remind him.

"My father was kind enough to explain it again." He rolls his eyes.

"Well he's right, your outburst will be used as fuel to all the rumours." I scold him, "it's treason, Harwin."

"He said that too." He look away again, annoyed, annoyed because he's know we're right.

I sigh, closing the distance between us, to make him look at me.

"I don't want to lose you, Harwin." I say, "I can't."

I see his eyes softening, he leans his forehead on mine.

"You won't." He pulls back a little to look at me, "you know, I've always dreamed of running away with you."

"You've said that, maybe once... or twice." I cheekly smile at him, trying to hide my own fear.

"Taking two horses and run ride away, just us." He softly whispers, "but I never asked."

"You know I-"

"You couldn't leave her." He finishes for me, "I know, and I couldn't ask you to leave her behind. I wouldn't ask you to."

He lifts my chin just enough to leave a small kiss on my lips.

"Don't ask me to say goodbye to you either." I warn him, "I won't."

"I know." He kisses me again.

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

I didn't say goodbye.

I didn't. I simply watched Harwin leave with his father. I cought for a moment his eyes on me as he left, and I wanted to go to him, but I couldn't.

The days after that have been... caotic to say the least. After Harwin departure Rhaenyra decided to move the whole family to Dragonstone and Rhaenyra and I tried to comfort each other. The news of Harwin's death, still fresh, broke something in me.

"I'm really sorry, my love." She told me one night as we sat in front of the fire.

"It's not your fault in any way, Rhae. Do not blame yourself." I tell her.

"If I let you marry Harwin, maybe you-"

"You didn't force me to stay by your side, Rhae, I wanted to. Harwin understood that, if anything, he deserved better than me." I sighed, "he deserved better."

"You chose to stay with me, like he chose you. He wanted to be with you, and see you happy, that's what he cared about." She told me, sternly, to avoid me entering a bad place in my mind.

We didn't say more, we just held each other in front of the fire.

But the days after that were even crazier, Laena's death was like a thunder while the sky is clear, unexpected and shocking, and so was Laenor's "death", at least to Rhaenys and Corlys. A cruel, but necessary mean to an end.

But I still remember the incident so well...

I remember hearing noises outside my chambers, I arrived to a room where Jace and Luke's bloodied faces greeted me.

"What happened?!" I exclaimed kneeling in front of them and checking their wounds.

"Ask them." Alicent furious tone told me.

I looked up at her, just then noticing Aemond sitting with a Measter close to check him. I walk to see why he deserved more care than the others and saw his wound.

"Gods..." I exhaled, "how..?"

"I told you to ask them." Alicent repeated.

I watched Alicent closely, then I looked at Jace and Luke, Rhaena and Baela scared close to them.

I looked back at Aemond and the Maester's work.

"Leave it, you're butchering his eye." I tried to shove him to take his place.

"He was-" Alicent started.

"Butchers do cleaner jobs, I assure you, my queen." I said, taking the needle and started to stitch the wound myself, along with my oils, "just hang on a little longer, my prince."

"How could you allow such a thing to happen?" King Viserys demanded "I will have answers."

"The princes were supposed to be abed, my King." Harrold answered.

Alicent came right next to me to check in on his son, I let her because I understood her anxiety.

"Who had the watch?" Viserys kept his interrogation going.

"Young Prince was attacked by his own cousins, your grace." Criston chimed in and I forced myself to contain a scoff.

"You swore oaths to protect and defend my blood!" The King exclaimed, furious.

"The kings guard has never had to defend princes from princes, your grace." Criston tried to defend himself.

"That is no answer." Viserys shouted at him.

"It will heal, will it not?" Alicent asked, "will it not, lady Y/n?"

I could feel all eyes on me.

"I..." I sighed, keeping my hand as steady as possible, "the flesh will heal. Yes. But, I'm afraid, the eye is lost."

"Where were you?" Alicent stood up abruptly to ask Aegon.

"Alicent.." I tried to calm her, since I finished with Aemond's wound.

"Me?" Aegon couldn't even ask before Alicent slapped him, "what was that for?"

"Thay was nothing compared to the abuse your brother suffered while you were drowning in your cups, you fool"

"I'll get you some oils to keep on in to make it heal faster," I told Aemond, "and you just lost an eye, your life is not over. Remember that."

In that exact moment, Corlys and Rhaenys arrived demanding explanation.

I stood to better check on Luke and Jace, when Rhaenyra came in too, followed by Daemon. When I met his eyes, his usual smirk made its way to his face, and he winked at me.

"Are they okay?" Rhae's voice was what got me our of staring at Daemon.

"Uh, yes, yes, just a few scratches, princess." I assured her.

"Who did this?" She asked.

"They attacked me!" Aemond immediately answered, starting a chorus of children shouting to be heard.

I deeply sighed, and looked again at Daemon, the smug expression ever present, I looked at Rhaenyra as they all fight back and forth, alost tuning out their voices. I suspected they did... something. Rhaenyra always felt a pull towards her uncle, not that I couldn't blame her, but I was worried said something could've had consequences.

When my eyes landed on Alicent's hand holding Visrys' dagger walking directly to Rhaenyra, I snapped out my dazed state wanting to put myself in between them, but Rhaenys' hand held my elbow.

"Do not mourn me, Mother." Aemond started to speak earning the attention of all presents, "it was a fair exchange. I may have lost an eye, but I gained a dragon." He finished, proud of himself.

"This proceeding is at an end." The King commanded.

Just then, Rhaenys let me go, letting me walk by her side to check on the cut the dagger left.

Daemon joining our side of the room as well.

Something that night shifted, not in the best way.

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

The sun coming from the big windows puts a smile on my face as I watch Daemon walking back to the castle, the hard look on his face creates a confused frown on my face.

"Something happened?" I ask once he's close enough, "the eggs?"

"Three healthy eggs," he assures me, caressing my cheek briefly.

"Then what's troubling you?" I ask.

"A raven." He answers, handing me said raven, "Vaemond wants to question Luke's claim to Driftmark."

I groan in frustration.

"I always hated that man." I say, following him inside.

"Makes me want to test the sharpness of my sword on him." He grins, clearly annoyed by the news.

"That's a wonderful idea." I agree.

"Don't agree with me on this, it turns me on." He playfully warns me, to which I respond with a little shove.

"It seems we have a message to report, my prince." I remind him.

"We sure do, my lady." The seriousness is back on his face and together we join Rhaenyra in the map room with Jace.

"Leave us." Rhaenyra commands as soon as she sees us.

Jace takes Jeoffrey and with the maesters and the handmaid, exits the room.

Daemon and I walk closer to the Princess, she looks at us with a mix of intrigued and perplexed expression.

I give her the message and she reads it. Me and Daemon waiting patiently.

"He means to call into question Luke's legitimacy," she realises, in disbelief, "and by extension Jace, and by extension my own clain to the throne."

I gently grab her hand to reassure her.

"Vaemond cares only about Driftmark and the Velaryon line." Daemon explains, "not about out politics. Has he made common cause with Otto Hightower yet?"

"Mh, this is what I fear." Rhaenyra humms, re-reading the letter, "Rhaenys has flown to court." She looks at me, her own gear moving in her head.

"She can't be planning to uphold his intentions." I assure her.

"No, exactly," Daemon agrees with me, "whatever disagreements we may have had, she's not cruel... or stupid enough to do that."

"Disagreements?" Rhaenyra questions, "she believes we had her son killed so that we might marry." She specifies.

"Yes... and yet, she's taken Baela to ward." Daemon tries to reassure her.

"Yes. It is Laena's memory she honors. She has no love for us."

"Has the vipers' venom spread so far?" He smirks, almost challenging.

"Those vipers rule in my father's name, and my father..." she sighs, defeated, "what choice do I have?"

"We defend." I tell her.

Daemon gently strokes Rhaenyra's belly with one hand, and with the other brush a finger on my cheek affectionately.

"To King's Landing, then."

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

Letting Rhaenyra and Daemon arrive a day before me was my intention, they're married, I'm just her lady-in-waiting to the court's eyes, so I insisted on them arriving on their own.

When I do arrive I sense immediately the tension in the air, symbols on the Sevens are hanged around the castle, instead of the Targaryen's crest. I try to ignore this feeling of uneasiness as I walk the vaguely familiar corridors.

"Y/n." I hear a familiar voice calling from behind me.

"My queen." I say as soon as I turn around, bowing to her. She gets closer, followed by Criston Cole as always.

"It's good to see you again." She kindly greets me, gently taking my hands.

"I share the sentiment my queen, these years have been kind to you," I smile at her, "beautiful as always."

Seeing her here, in front of me again after that night, all memories of us three together years and years ago making their way to the surface.

"You're still too kind," she smile, almost forced because she's not used to it anymore, "you're even more beautiful than I remember, my lady."

"Thank you, your highness," I thank her, quickly glancing at Cole beside her, "I was heading to the King's chamber, I wish to say hello."

"I'm afraid he's resting," she quickly tells me, "princess Rhaenyra's arrival was a lot for him."

"Is his condition that severe?" I ask, worried.

"I'm afraid so." She apologetically replies, "maybe after the council today."

"Will he be present?" I ask, hopeful.

"The masesters are opposed to the idea," she explains.

"Let me see him, maybe I can help." I insist.

"He does need his rest, my lady," she sternly says.

I swallow my tongue and cease my questions.

"Very well, my queen." I bow once again, "I'll go visit the library then, the gods know I missed King's Landing's library."

Alicent merely nods and lets me go without any more words.

I can't help all the suspects forming in my mind, I try to shake then out of my head, maybe I'm just exaggerating. I focus on remembering the route to the library instead, and thankfully I find it pretty easily. Juste as easily I get lost in the books.

I find a book I used to read all the time, a book about herbs and art in ancient times.

I get so lost in the book, I get startled when I suddenly hear footsteps behind me, turning around immediately.

"Apologies, my lady, I didn't mean to stratle you." The man in front of me says.

"Nothing to apologise for, I was merely lost in the book, I..." I trail off as I look at him better, noticing an eyepatch, "Aemond?"

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