#but yeah. thank you everyone:(
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nymphoutofwater · 16 days ago
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Here's a remade masterpost of free and full shakespeare adaptations! Thanks @william-shakespeare-official for this excellent post. Unfortunately, a lot of the links in it are broken, so I thought I'd make an updated version (also I just wanted to organize things a bit more)
Anthony and Cleopatra: ~ Josette Simon, Antony Byrne & Ben Allen - 2017
As You Like It: ~ At Wolfe Park - 2013 ~ Kenneth Brannagh's - 2006
Coriolanus: ~ NYET Alumni - 2016 ~ Tom Hiddleston - 2014 ~ Ralph Fiennes - 2011
Cymbelline: ~ Michael Almereyda's - 2014
Hamlet: ~ David Tennant - 2009 ~ Ethan Hawke & Diane Venora - 2000 ~ Kenneth Branagh's - 1989 ~ BCC's Part One & Two - 1990 ~ Broadway - 1964 ~ Christopher Plummer - 1964 ~ Laurence Olivier's - 1948
Henry IV: ~ BBC's Part One & Two - 1989 ~ The Brussel's Shakespeare Society's - 2017
Henry V: ~ The BBC's - 1990 ~ Laurence Olivier's - 1944
Julius Caesar: ~ Phyllida Lloyd's - 2019 ~ The BBC's - 1979 ~ John Gielgud - 1970
King Lear: ~ The RSC's - 2008 ~ Laurence Olivier - 1983 ~ The BBC's - 1975 ~ James Earl Jones - 1974 ~ Orson Wells - 1953
Love's Labour's Lost: ~ Calvin University - 2016
Macbeth: ~ Antoni Cimolino & Shelagh O'Brien's - 2017 ~ Ian McKellen & Judi Dench - 1969 ~ Sean Connery - 1961
Measure for Measure: ~ Hugo Weaving - 2019 ~ The BBC's - 1990
The Merchant of Venice: ~ Al Pacino - 2004 ~ Trevor Nunn & Chris Hunt - 2001 ~ The BBC's - 1980 ~ Lawrence Olivier - 1973
The Merry Wives of Windsor: ~ The Royal Shakespeare Company's - 1982
A Midsummer Night's Dream: ~ Oliver Chris & Gwendoline Christie - 2019 ~ City of Columbus's - 2018 ~ Julie Taymor's - 2014 ~ The Globe's - 2013 ~ The BBC's - 1988 ~ Lindsay Duncan & Alex Jennings - 1986
Much Ado About Nothing: ~ Shakespeare in the Park - 2019 ~ David Tennant & Catherine Tate - 2011 ~ Kenneth Branagh - 1993 ~ The BBC's - 1984
Othello: ~ The BBC's Part One & Two - 1990
Richard II: ~ David Tennant - 2013 ~ Deborah Warner's - 1997 ~ The BBC's - 1978
Richard III: ~ Ian McKellen - 1995 ~ Laurence Olivier - 1955
Romeo and Juliet: ~ Simon Godwin's - 2021 ~ The BBC's - 1988 ~ Laurence Harvey & Susan Shentall - 1954
The Taming of the Shrew: ~ Ontario production? ~ American Conservatory Theater - 1976 ~ Richard Burton & Elizabeth Taylor - 1967 ~ Mary Pickford & Samuel Taylor - 1929
The Tempest: ~ Gregory Doran's - 2017 ~ The BBC's - 1988
Timon of Athens: ~ Barry Avrich's - 2024
Troilus and Cressida: ~ Audio Production ~ This one I found on youtube? - 2016
Titus Andronicus: ~ Anthony Hopkins - 1999
Twelfth night: ~ Texas Shakespeare Festival's - 2015 ~ Alec Guinness, Joan Plowright & Ralph Richardson - 1970
Two Gentlemen of Verona: ~ Katherine Steweart's - 2018 ~ The BBC's
The Winter's Tale: ~ Antony Sher - 1999 (Warning: they don't have a bear...)
Bonuses:
Time Loop Hamlet! (A personal fav of mine)
Rock Opera Hamlet???
Shakespeare animated tales
The Complete Works Of Shakespeare Abridged comedy
Romeo and Julieta: A Día de los Muertos Love Story
There’s also many other Latine Shakespeare adaptations listed in this archive
From the original post:
A Midwinter's Tale, about a man trying to make Hamlet.
Russian Hamlet here
Here's Scotland, PA, the 2001 modern Macbeth retelling.
Rave Macbeth for anyone interested is here.
This one is the Taming of the Shrew modern retelling.
The french Romeo & Juliet musical with English subtitles is here!
Here's the 1948 one,
the Orson Wells Othello movie with Portuguese subtitles there
A Lego adaptation of Othello here.
Here's commentary on David Tennant's Richard II
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poorly-drawn-mdzs · 7 months ago
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Ooh, you want to know what happens at the gay bar run by ex-pirates, ooh...You'll just have to read Tiger Tiger to find out...
(Inspired by this Disco Elysium comic)
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pigswithwings · 1 month ago
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kind of interesting to me how people are only now figuring out (?) rediscovering (?) finally understanding (?) that chinese people are actual? people? like its really fun to see more chinese stuff come across my dash but some of the comments keep reminding me of what people were doing before this happened. "people are learning chinese and figuring out that chinese people are actually funny" thats great dude we were always funny. because we are also humans who have the capacity to joke around. quick question what did u think of chinese people before u downloaded 小红书 im so so curious
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somnimagus · 1 year ago
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My page for @sheikahzine; about Impaz's duty to her village, empty of people and full of memories.
[id in alt text]
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tzarrz · 8 months ago
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i listen to fog lake too much
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moylis3 · 6 months ago
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bro changed the subject upd: lassie`s version
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shepscapades · 9 months ago
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[Part 1] [Part 2] [Part 3] [Part 4] [Part 5] [PART 6] [Part 7] [Don’t Let it Reach the Heart]
[This comic is part of my dbhc au, following the chaos and panic that ensues after Doc and Xisuma try to get Etho back online at the start of s9 after a very rough s8 finale that leaves him a little. broken. It's set to the vibes of Joywave's Destruction!]
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wardingshout · 1 year ago
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Travelling for Day 4 of SpeSilverWeek! going to Mt. Silver to visit "the extended family"...
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elizzsush · 6 months ago
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Deadpool coded reader:
Reader: dramatically and sadly, “Day 925, the bats show no sign of releasing me- a totally normal and amazing citizen from this prison.”
Reader; “he has left the second scariest Robin to guard me, Jason.”
Red hood: a little offended; “Second?”
Reader: shuttering looking like she’s reliving something, “Damien is like a angry dog, he bites.”
Reader: “also is this lega- and he walked away. Hey! I want to speak to a lawyer!!”
Reader: now yelling “I have rights!!! I think- do you have rights in Gotham?”
_______________
Batman: finally shows up.
Reader: “hey It’s You! You know if I head a penny for a rich completely normal guy who is the center of a multi million  franchise of hero’s- while also being a hero himself through the means of money… well Id have two pennies!”
Dick: “what…?”
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thesunisatangerine · 19 days ago
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playing for keeps – chapter four
alexia putellas x barçakeeper!childhoodfriend!reader
warning/s: coarse language; mentions of: grief, death, drowning; not proofread
(a/n in the tags) [chapters: one, two, three, four]
word count: 13.1k
[1]
‘Can you meet me at the playground?’ was Guille’s message the night after your graduation, casting a blue streak over a relatively warm summer night. The short hand of the clock hovered over eleven when you got it, and you had half a mind to ignore it–because how dared he do this now?–but you sent him a reply before heading out of the door.
The playground was less than ten minutes away but you took the corner; the one that led around the block. He could wait, you thought. After all, you’d been giving him just that: the luxury of time. But he never did anything with it did he, so why would you rush? And what could he possibly want now after months of ignoring you? Was this a final goodbye? After everything you’d been through together, was this really how it’s going to end? 
You sniffled and ran the back of your hand over your eyes as you walked the last few yards to the park.
Tap tap tap.
The distinct sound of football-to-shoe brought you back. Ahead under the yellow glow of the lone streetlamp that lit the playground, with his back turned to you, was Guille juggling a football. A breeze brushed your cheek and it carried the familiar sweetness of Guille’s body spray. You remembered when he started using it—it was around the time you’d complained to him about how you found the scent of guy’s deodorants repugnant, and that you could only stand the new scent that he bought. And after that, it was all he’d ever used. You couldn’t help but wonder if that was around the time he started liking you, and the thought made you recoil. 
The ball reached another high, this time going over Guille’s head, making him turn, but it never connected to a touch. Instead, it landed on the ground. Its momentum carried it to a stop just a few paces away from you but you made no move to kick it back. You dragged your eyes away from the ball and found his finally.
For a moment, it was as if the world stood still. You soaked in the state of him: there was a heaviness that swelled in the skin beneath his eyes which were devoid of their usual light; his arms sagged heavily by his sides, contorting the contours of his silhouette to a shape that displaced the confidence you’d seen him wear so easily growing up. Even in the low light, the jagged cut that interrupted the line of his left brow remained prominent, but it was gone from view when dark curls fell to cover it after Guille ran his fingers through his hair.
He cleared his throat before he spoke, yet his voice still broke over his words. 
“Hey. Uh–thank you for coming,” he smiled a little. “Can we talk?”
You eyed him carefully, letting a moment of silence settle in the air as you crossed your arms. Only after you noted a slight movement in Guille’s throat did you skim the sole of your foot over the ball, sending it his way. When you met his eyes again, something akin to relief shone in them––or maybe it was gratitude?––before he kicked the ball towards you again. That went on for a while; back and forth the ball went during which no one said a word. From the way Guille kept clenching and unclenching his hands, you doubted he knew what he even wanted to say, least of all how to say it.
Still, you waited. 
Another moment, he stopped the ball, wiped his hands on the sides of his shirt before stuffing them in his short pockets, his posture awkward and stiff. He opened his mouth and in the breath before he spoke his first word, your heart dropped to your stomach and you braced yourself.
This was it.
“I–I want to apologize!”
You blinked. That… was unexpected.
“I know it’s probably too late, but I don’t think I can live without saying it, you know?” He shrugged as he smiled, but it was too crooked, and his eyes shone. 
“I’m really sorry. For what I did, and what I said. Those hurt you… I hurt you.”
He released a shaky breath, bit his lower lip as he swiped a thumb at the corner of his eye.
“I’m not expecting to be forgiven and I understand if you don’t want to be friends anymore. I just–I’m sorry. And I want you to know that I had the best time with you.” 
His lips curled up to a smile but the quiver of his chin broke the curve and his tears spilled. 
He looked so young then, so much like a lost little boy who looked nothing like the boy you met when you were eight: newly-transferred Guille who became the smallest out of all the boys in your class yet, with his quiet confidence, he towered over them with his head held high. You remembered him as he was then when he first introduced himself to you, his cheeks rosy from playing too much under the sun and just a little out of breath when he asked you to be in his team during recess. He did it too without any snide remarks, something you’d gotten used to from playing with the other boys in class. He never brought your being a girl up even when your team lost, and it was the first time you were treated as an equal on the field at school. 
And he just stuck with you, and you with him; all the shared lunches, the laughter, the late night banters… there was no way you could let this friendship go. 
This was so stupid. 
“This is stupid,” you choked as you hastily wiped a tear away but it was quickly followed by another. “Come here, you idiot!” 
You surged forward and wrapped your arms around him, the force of it nearly knocking the both of you over. It took him a second but when the weight of his arms settled on you––when his comforting warmth finally seeped in––you were hit by just how much you’d missed him.
“I’m sorry. I’m so, so sorry,” were the strained words spoken against your ear as he hugged you tighter. 
“You’re an idiot,” you mumbled on his shoulder. “It’s going to take some time but we’ll be alright, I forgive you. And I want us to remain friends, under two conditions if you’re up for it.” 
He pulled away slightly to wipe his cheeks, and gave you a small smile. He was a bit breathless when he said, “Anything.” 
There was a light lilt in his tone and you understood he meant it, so you nodded, returning his smile. He followed you when you went to sit on one of the benches, situating himself so there was enough space between you for one person.
Looking him in the eye, you started, “I know it’s a lot to ask but if you have any plans to wait for me, I want you to forget about it. I love you and I care for you, but I need you to understand that a brother and a friend is all I will find in you.” 
His eyes strayed downwards and they clouded over. He closed them with a sigh and when they opened, he looked at you and you found a lightness in them that comforted you; his face bore a friendly warmth that you haven’t seen in a while.
“I understand, and you don’t have to apologise.” 
He scooted closer so he could bump his knee against yours, now grinning. His playfulness made you smile.
“And one more thing,” you added after a moment, and he nodded for you to continue. “You… you have to make amends with Alexia.” 
The grin fled from his face and you didn’t miss the way he flinched. His knuckles whitened and tension brewed in his muscles. And when his eyes darkened, you couldn’t help but frown at the change in his demeanor. You reached out to touch his shoulder.
“Guille––”
Then, like a spring, all the air of rigidness left him. He threw his head back and released a laugh that caught you off guard. When he regarded you again, the curve of his lips remained.
Then he said in a tone filled with mirth, “You know, if she hadn’t knocked some sense into me that night, I’d probably still be wallowing in self-pity like an entitled prick.”
At the reminder, your eyes wandered to the scar on his left brow but they lingered only for a second.
“And yes, done. She hates my guts,” you opened your mouth to protest otherwise but when Guille gave you a pointed look, you closed it immediately, “but I will patch things up with her. Besides, I need to thank her for straightening me out.”
You gaped at him.
“It’s that easy?”
He shrugged, still smiling.
“I mean, yeah? It’s either those or losing you, and I know I value you more than I do my pride and ego.”
There it was again, his quiet confidence. It diminished though when he brushed a finger over the bridge of his nose, eyes darting down to his feet briefly before meeting yours again. And when he spoke, there was more than a little uncertainty that bled into his tone, and maybe a little bit of hope. 
“Besides, we’re friends. Right?”
You scrunched your nose at him in answer as you grinned.
“Damn right,” you confirmed. Then you punched his shoulder for good measure. His jaw dropped open in an offended gasp. He sat there wide-eyed for a moment before he locked an arm around your neck, his free hand mussing up your hair in an instant, and you could only shriek and chortle at the action. 
In that moment, you felt as if a weight had finally been lifted off your shoulders. And there was no better way to truly feel the lightness of being than having somebody to laugh with. Then a comfortable pause washed over you both as you caught your breaths. In the silence that settled, you leaned back on your hands and kicked your feet up idly in the air. 
It was Guille who spoke first. 
“You don’t have to answer, but do you like someone?”
Your feet stilled. And then, without bidding, a series of images flashed through your mind of brown hair, freckles, hazel… Warmth coiled and gathered in your chest as if the ghost of a hand hovered over it. 
“It’s her, isn’t it?”
A distinct pop went off somewhere in your neck from the speed by which you gaped at him. Guille’s eyes remained trained ahead and his face was relaxed, void of any judgement… Surely, he didn’t say what you thought he said, right? 
You swallowed, throat dry, and choked, “What did you say?”
“Alexia.” He turned to you then, and smiled; small but not unkindly. “She’s the one, isn’t she?”
Blood thundered in your ears, and your heartbeat tripled. 
“No! I–That’s ridic–”
Warmth over your hand; Guille had taken yours into his, and the ice in your skin thawed instantly. Only when Guille tightened his grip to still your hand did you know just how badly you were shaking. 
“Hey, look at me. It’s okay. I won’t tell anyone, I swear,” his voice was soothing and he squeezed your hand for good measure. “I think, deep down, I’ve always known. Maybe that’s why I treated everything as a competition because I felt threatened by her. And I never understood why you always gravitated towards her like she’s your own Earth. But now I know. If… If I ever made it difficult to come to terms with your feelings for her, I’m sorry.” 
His words and their sincerity brought a calm with them, stopping the surge of panic in your veins. And, like a tide, it receded. Finally finding your voice again, you spoke. 
“You–you’re not angry?”
His brows rose.
“Why would I be?”
Then he gave you another smile. You understood it was meant to reassure you but you couldn’t help but notice that the corners of his lips were somewhat weighed down with sadness. Still, judgement made no home in his eyes. 
“I won’t tell anyone. I promise. And if you ever want to talk, I’m here.”
A brief pause as his eyes wandered. 
“I–Maybe not for a while. It’s not that I want to, but I think some distance will do me some good. I want to respect your boundaries, and for me to do that, I need to get my feelings sorted out. I’m… I’ve made up my mind anyway. I’m leaving the city.” 
“What?” You choked. “When? Where are you going?”
Then a spark of anger went off. You jabbed at his shoulder. Guille yelped suddenly, his eyes became wide with surprise. 
“You jerk! Is that the reason why you’re finally saying sorry?!” 
“I–No, of course not! I mean, yeah, but no!” He gestured in the air. “What I’m trying to say is… I’m here because I want to make amends, not because I feel like I had to. Besides, I won’t be leaving for another two months.” 
Oh.
“Oh.” Your cheeks felt warm. 
“Yeah, ‘oh’.” He repeated with a sarcastic note but a playful spark lit up his eyes. 
You apologised sheepishly. Then, “Where are you headed? And what are you going to do?”
Guille shrugged, leaning back against his arms as he looked up at the night sky.
“I don’t know yet. I was thinking of travelling for a bit, maybe go around Europe first? Do you remember how Aunt Aloma lives in London? Yeah, she told me I could stay with her if I ever planned to go there for university.”
When he mentioned London, a lead sank into your gut. Logically, you knew it wasn’t too far away; the three-hour long flight would be a small price to pay to see Guille again. The fact that he wouldn’t be an arm’s reach away like he was right then—that childhood was departing—made your chest ache. You didn’t know you’d teared up until you felt Guille’s hand on your shoulder and the consequent squeeze there. 
“Don’t cry on me now, I haven’t even left yet.” He said lightly but his eyes were glazed over, too. “Hey, don’t worry, it won’t be for good. Before you know it, I’ll be back here to annoy you. And you know, maybe once I’ve settled in London you could even visit.”
You took his hand and squeezed it back, saying, “Just say the word and I’ll be there. 
[2]
“He’s studying what now?” 
“Sports Psychology. Pay attention.” You swatted at Alexia’s hand but she ignored you. She continued to pinch some more grass from beside where she was laying and let them get carried by the breeze as she threw them into the air. The blades of grass flew freely but some of them landed on her chest and stomach where a bunch of them had begun to pile up. Still, she continued her endeavor. She looked ridiculous but warmth filled you nonetheless, and you smiled as you leaned over to pick them off her jersey. 
Alexia hummed with a note of surprise, “He works fast. He’s only been away for four months?”
“Well, we are talking about Guille here.” 
“Hmm, I always thought Lover Boy would end up in physio–Hey!” 
Alexia yelped when you jerked your thigh that her head was resting on.
“Stop calling him that,” you reprimanded with a light flick to her forehead. At the reminder though, your cheeks warmed. 
She rubbed her forehead as she narrowed her eyes at you, then with a huff and a pout, “Fine, fine! No need to get defensive. Why is it such a big deal anyway?”
“Because, Alexia, we’re all trying to move on.”
“You make it sound like the two of you broke up or something.” She snickered before adding, “Which begs the question, why didn’t you ever go out with him? Minus the fact that he gave you a concussion, of course.” 
Her tone changed at the end, an inflection of something bitter—a bit of her protectiveness showing through—that you chose to ignore. Yet you found yourself unable to answer her anyway. 
You recalled the conversation you had with Guille that night, the way he figured out who held your heart so easily. Ever since, a question gnawed at the edge of your mind, the same one that whispered to you now: were your feelings so transparent? So obvious? 
A brush against your jaw pulled you back and, upon looking down, you were met with the question still in Alexia’s eyes. You shrugged, pulling away from her touch as nonchalantly as you could. 
“Guille is a friend and only that.”
“But you were so close,” she commented.
“Proximity doesn’t always mean intimacy, Alexia.” You were grasping for straws, you knew this. Your eyes wandered before you admitted with another shrug, “Besides, I can’t really see myself in a relationship. Not right now, anyway.”
“Oh.” The sound Alexia made was gentle, barely audible, that you thought it was the wind’s whisper. And then in a tone so soft, “Really? You don’t like anyone? Anyone at all?”
There was something in the way she asked that beckoned you to look back down at her. The scattered rays of the sun dappled her freckled cheeks with flushed amber, and her eyes that were normally a deep shade of ochre shone golden in the light. There was a softness in them that made your heart stutter, and another thing you couldn’t quite figure out, almost a plea, but about what?
You dragged your eyes away from her lips to meet her eyes.
“No, I don’t think it’s for me,” you murmured.
She stared at you for a long time. It felt like being swallowed into their depths and you could do nothing but be swept away, keep the contact somehow, lest she’d find something she shouldn’t see. So you stared right back. 
Eventually, she whispered, “Maybe you just haven’t found the right person yet.”
The lump in your throat remained even after you swallowed. Finally looking away, you hummed out in half-agreement.
“Yeah. Maybe you’re right.”
A pause.
“Do you miss him?” 
“I do. I really do.” You admitted with a sigh. 
After another moment of silence, Alexia continued.
“Would… would you join a club in England?” 
Your gaze flicked back down to her, frowning a little.
“It’s either Barça or Bayern for me, Alexia. You know this.” 
At that, Alexia averted her eyes, picked a fallen leaf, twirled it between her fingers, and then looked at it as if it held the mysteries of the world. 
Carding a finger through her hair, you prompted softly, “Why would you ask that?” 
She shrugged, quirking the corner of her lips downwards. Then she met your eyes with barely concealed vulnerability, voice hesitant when she asked, “So, you’re staying?”
“I am,” you said firmly, smiling at her. “Besides, we’re in this together, aren’t we? Wherever you go, I’ll follow.” 
Finally, her lips broke into a grin.
“I can��t wait to play with you when we get on the first team.” She said with such certainty you couldn’t help but grin back.
“Do you really think we’ll make it?”
“Yeah. We will, you’ll see.”
And you did.
There reflected in her eyes the vision of a future. That familiar splendor of passion—that unwavering resolve—shone untarnished, and the mere sight of it filled you with an overwhelming desire to kiss her. Instead, you leaned down and pressed your forehead to hers.
Alexia accepted the contact with a sigh, and then she whispered, “Sorry to say, but you’re stuck with me, too.”
[3]
You got into Barça’s first team—the both of you did. 
There was a moment where you thought it was too good to be true, and that surely the other shoe would drop any time soon. 
And it did.
Maybe deep down, you hoped otherwise; that the universe would prove you wrong. But the universe had a wicked sense of humor, and you would’ve laughed at the cruelty of the joke if anguish had not choked your laughter tight into tears. The taste of achievement was still fresh on your tongue, still on your way to relishing it, before that same sweetness quickly soured to bitter disappointment. 
Not a year after joining Barça’s first team ranks, the news reached you. Our funds were not enough, they said, and they were sorry they had to cut the women’s team. There was no other way, the club didn’t have enough money to keep the team in the league.
The fact that you got a taste of your dream only to have the rug pulled beneath you was maddening, and it made the pain from the fall all the more worse. The news hit you hard, but Alexia took it the worst.
There was a thin line between perseverance and obsession, and some would even go so far to say that the two were opposite sides to the same coin. You know this. And you also know that Alexia had tossed that coin so many times now that she’d probably forgotten what each of those faces meant, progressively confounding one for the other until they were now one and the same.
Looking back now, the signs were all there: you were blinded by your own loss and your admiration for Alexia that you failed to see it or what it really was—a festering obsession. The signs were there in your time with Espanyol, especially during the first few months after the news of Barça’s restructuring broke; they were present in the way Alexia behaved compulsively, always seething with barely concealed hunger, her tenacity both on and off the field magnified to the tens. It waned somewhat during the season but now with the both of you facing another move—to Levante this time—her obsession resurfaced with renewed vigor, corrupting each knot of her muscle to constrict to their breaking point.
“Ale, do you want to come over to mine?” You asked, leaning against the doorframe of Alexia’s bedroom, while Alexia remained hunched over a folder filled with formations, the same one she’d been studying since last match day.
“Why?” She threw over her shoulder, not even turning to look at you.
You picked at your thumb. 
“I don’t know. Just come and sleep over? Mamá and Papá have been asking about you, you know?”
Finally she turned and her eyes found you. They were flat and the skin under them looked darker than they were yesterday. A slight crease was present between her brows, and her lips drooped slightly at the corners, seemingly unimpressed.
“I just saw them yesterday.” 
Okay, maybe that was a lie.
You shrugged it off, “Doesn’t matter. Come visit anyway.”
“I have other things to worry about,” Alexia grumbled with annoyance, turning around to assume her previous position.
“That’s not going to run away from you, Alexia. Come on.”
 Without letting her get another word in, you took her wrist in a gentle grip and tugged her away from her table. Although you had to admit, it was difficult not to remain unfazed when Alexia got like this, especially considering what she’s going through. Another part of your brain was saying the opposite; that it was because of what she’s going through that you had to intervene like this.
“Hey, wait! What are you doing?!” Alexia protested halfway down the stairs.
“Dragging you to my place, of course.”
“What about my things?”
“You have clothes there. Or, you can just wear my stuff.”
“But we have training!”
“It’s only a light session tomorrow.” 
“But—”
“Alexia.” 
You fixed a stern eye at her over your shoulder and she opened her mouth, as if to say something, before she shut it, sighing in defeat.
The both of you just made it down the stairs to see the front door swing open. Eli entered first, Alba trailing in after. At the sight of her family, Alexia strode to where they were to greet them; she kissed Eli on her temple, and Alba on top of her head.
“How’s Papá?”
Eli gave her daughter a small smile, but the skin around her eyes remained taut, weighed down by something inexplicably heavy. 
“He’s stable, love. The same as when you saw him this morning.” Eli’s gaze flicked to you. “Are you girls heading out?”
You nodded.
“I’ll be stealing away Alexia for the night. Is that okay?”
Eli smiled at you, “Of course.”
“We made some food for dinner. They’re on the stove top.”
“Oh, thank you, my girls.” Eli said, hugging you goodbye after you’d put on your shoes. Then she whispered in your ear, “Thank you.”
In response, you only hugged her tighter. Without meaning to, your eyes fleeted over to Alexia who was having a hushed conversation with Alba. By the end of it, Alexia embraced her little sister, placing another kiss atop her head only this time, Alexia’s brows were deeply creased. 
When you pulled away, you said, squeezing Eli’s hands. “Get some rest, Má. I’ll bring her back first thing after practice tomorrow.” 
And with that, you and Alexia headed out. 
The transit to your place was punctuated with a vacuous silence. Alexia sat beside you, less than an arm’s reach away, but her eyes were trained at somewhere far on the horizon; and she, even farther. But you let her be, there was plenty of time to talk later after all. 
By the time you got home, the lights were already off save for the small night light in the hallway so the both of you climbed the stairs on your toes, making sure to avoid that one creaky spot by the corner.
“You can clean up here, I’ll use the other shower. “ You said, jutting your chin to the direction of the shower. 
Alexia only nodded.
When you returned to your room, the bathroom was empty, a fresh glass of water stood by your night stand, and Alexia was nowhere to be seen. You were just about to head downstairs when she padded into your room with a towel draped over her head and a damp spot from her hair on a shirt you recognised to be yours. 
She must’ve seen the question in your eyes because she muttered, “Double-checked the door lock.”
You hummed as she walked past you, back into the bathroom, and you heard the tap run. 
“Thanks for the water,” you said while taking a sip from the glass she put there.
A sound of recognition came from Alexia.
When Alexia finally finished her business in the bathroom, hair slightly ruffled and almost dry, you were already settled in bed, the sheets on her side pulled off in silent invitation. But Alexia remained standing there, by the golden cast of your night lamp, looking a bit lost for reasons you understood.
Softly, you coaxed, “Hey.”
Alexia’s eyes flicked to you and your heart ached at the sight of them so dulled and weary. It took her another moment but she finally slid in next to you, the warmth of her finally arriving home and seeping into your bones. When her feet brushed over your legs as she shifted beside you, you joked with a hushed giggle to lighten the mood, “Get your cold feet away from me.” 
It worked because her lips quirked up slightly, eyes rolling in jest, but not a second later, her eyes dimmed again, and she looked away. You propped yourself up on your elbow to see her clearly but she refused to meet your eyes. Tucking a lock of hair behind her ear, you whispered, the words cracking under the weight of your emotion.
“Ale, talk to me.”
Silence.
A breath.
“There’s nothing to talk about,” came the hoarse reply.
Breathing deeply, you buried your fingers in her hair to try and soothe her. And again, you spoke in whispers. 
“You know, it’s okay to grieve about it, to be angry about it. You don’t have to be strong all the time, Alexia.”
Her eyes flashed with something red then and she growled.
“And what will grieving get me? The way through is forward and only forward. Do you think the world will stop to give you enough time to grieve? To be angry?”
She continued, each word exhaled with urgency. 
“No. The moment you stop, you will be left behind. And I can’t stop. Not now. Especially not now.”
“Having a moment for yourself isn’t stopping. You can’t expect yourself to go on like this forever. Sometimes, you have to do what’s good for yourself, Alexia.”
A scoff.
“It doesn’t matter what’s good for me. What I need is to get back to Barça. Then, and only then, will I feel at ease.”
“At the expense of what, then? Killing your passion for the sport by making it your duty?”
Alexia startled you when she ripped herself away from you, sitting up so abruptly that the headboard banged against the wall. And when she glared down at you, you found a look in her eyes similar to that of a desperate animal’s; a look where the distinction between fear and anger blurred into something wild. 
Then, through her teeth, she hissed in a low voice.
“It is my duty! It always has been. Don’t you see? It has always been more than a sport to me. It’s not the same for you and I don’t expect you to understand because you—”
She stopped herself, facing forward in an instant, pinching the bridge of her nose as she setted her arms over her folded knees. 
Slowly, you rose, and only the sound of sheets settling around your waist filled the air. This momentary reprieve was mainly for Alexia’s sake—she was overwhelmed, that was clear to see—but maybe you needed a moment yourself because what she said hurt you. Still, you soldiered on because this was for Alexia. 
She tensed upon your touch, her muscles rippled beneath your palm as you dragged it from the small of her back, tracing the contours of her spine to the nape of her neck, but by the time your hand finally settled on her opposite shoulder, some of the tension had melted away.
“No, you’re right, I don’t understand,” you began, voice strained. “I don’t understand why you’re so adamant in destroying yourself. This—this shutting your family out with what’s happening with you. Your mother is worried sick. She’s asking about how you are, Alexia, do you know that? Your own mother!” 
Alexia released a weary sigh and then said in an even wearier tone.
“She has no need to worry.”
You almost scoffed at that, but stopped yourself although you couldn’t help the severity that bled into your next words.
“How could she not when you’re working yourself to the bone? Tell me, how do you expect us not to worry?” 
Silence. Then the murmur of folding fabric when Alexia curled into herself, head buried in the arms folded over her knees. In that cavern of her own making, a ragged breath echoed, followed by the shuddering of muscles. You ached at the state of her, and there was a lump in your throat that you couldn’t swallow. 
And barely above a whisper, you breathed, “You cannot carry the whole weight of the world by yourself. You’re not Atlas, Alexia. Let your family in.”
“Ale,” you tucked a lock of her hair behind her ear. Red eyes peered from the darkness of her arms and it broke you, but you had to plead, “Talk to me. Please…”
“I–I’m scared,” she choked out finally. “He’s getting worse. It’s the second attack this month and I—”
Her fingers dug into her arms when she tightened her grip.
“I thought winning the Copa de la Reina last year would give us enough exposure but it wasn’t enough. So, I wanted to do it again this season to prove that we belong in Barça but instead, we lost to them.” A ragged breath. “And now we’re going to Levante. I just–”
She looked up at you, lips quivering with a whimper, “I just want us to go home.”
“Oh, Alexia.” 
Without saying another word, you put your arms around her, forehead pressed close against her ear and the hitch in her breathing resounded loud and clear.
“It’s frustrating, isn’t it, how far we seem from getting back?” Alexia’s back tensed in answer but you only hugged tighter. “But that’s not true at all.”
You felt Alexia lift her head and you moved away just enough to see how she eyed you with confusion. You gave her a small smile as you grazed your knuckles over her tear-stained cheek.
“On top of your club activities, your national performance has been nothing short of exemplary. Those matter. And with all the articles they’ve been writing about you, it’s only a matter of time now.” Brightening your tone a little, you added with a playful smile, “you probably won’t finish your season with Levante before Barça gets their hands on you.”
A corner of her lips lifted up upon your remark so you pushed on.
“I know it’s not the same as being in Barça, but what you’ve achieved so far has got to count for something, Alexia. Your father… he’s so, so proud of you.” Your tone shifted, now firm. “And I doubt he’d be happy to know that his daughter is pushing her body past the point of injury to get into Barça. You know your mother and sister have been covering your ass, right? Uh-huh, yeah, I thought so.”
“You need to let yourself breathe,” you kissed her temple, then her shoulder. When your eyes met again, you found a soft look in hers that reminded you of when you were younger. Smoothing her hair again, you asked, “Can you do that, Alexia? Not for us, but for yourself?”
Alexia regarded you for a long, silent moment. Then she closed her eyes, opened them a breath later, and nodded, her lips curling up to a sincere smile. In response, you couldn’t help but grin back at her.
Sensing that her mood had elevated, you placed one last kiss on her temple before you reached over her, towards the lamp to turn it off, leaving your room illuminated by the blue glow of the moon. Alexia needed no guidance to rest her head against your chest and immediately, you wrapped your arms around her. She sighed deep in the crook of your neck and you were filled with a sense of belonging—of wholeness.
Your eyes fluttered shut to the rhythm of  Alexia’s heartbeat pressed against your side.
“I’m sorry”, came the whisper.
“What for?”
“I shouldn’t have said what I did, about you not understanding. That was wrong, and I know all of this means everything to you like the way it means everything to me.”
“I appreciate that, Alexia. Don’t worry about it.” 
“And I’m sorry for—”
“Ale,” you mumbled, pressing a kiss on her crown, “you don’t have to apologise for anything.”
A pause before a deep exhale heated up your neck.
“Thank you, then.”
You hummed, already halfway to dreaming. And with one last reassuring squeeze at her hip, you found yourself murmuring, “I got you. Good night, Ale.”
“Good night,” Alexia said with a kiss to your neck and you slept with a smile on your lips.
[4]
“Alexia! Can you please—Shit!” 
It was too late. 
The box on top of the one you were carrying slid and fell, and all you could do was cringe as it spilled all of your toiletries by the front door. 
“Oops, sorry.”
You turned to Alexia with a glare of slight annoyance, but when you saw her sheepish expression, with the corners of her mouth pulled down and an eye twisted to a flinch, you let it go. With a roll of your eyes and a slight shake of your head, you signaled for her to proceed ahead as you held the door open with your weight. Once inside, she settled her boxes down on the tiled floor, letting out a small grunt as she did so, before she took yours. 
You’d just finished picking up the toiletries when Alexia asked, “That’s the last of it, yes?”
Turning to face her, you saw her wipe the sweat off her temples before settling her hands on her hips. She scanned the would-be living room occupied by some stacks of boxes. Apart from the couch and mattresses, almost everything else needed to be unpacked and organised.
You placed the toiletries on the nearest counter and made a beeline for the couch. On your way, you patted her back and replied. 
“Yep. Just let me take five, and then we can open ‘em up.”
You face-planted on the couch with a groan, which then turned to a sigh not a second later. Those boxes took more from you than you’d anticipated, making the stiffness of the couch feel as soft as clouds to your bones. 
The strain from your eyes began to dissipate the moment your eyes fluttered shut, and you could feel the peace that awaited you in that velvet darkness when you were ripped back to wakefulness the moment a warm, crushing weight pressed onto your spine. 
Alexia had taken it upon herself to drape herself over you like you were the couch itself. 
“What—Alexia!” You yelped, “Get off me!” 
But of course, she did the exact opposite.
“Why? I was just getting comfortable,” Alexia deadpanned. 
She shifted on your back and she at least had the decency to prevent her elbows from digging into your back as she did. The next thing you knew, her front followed the curve of your back, blanketing you in her warmth, while her arms wrapped loosely around your waist.
Your heart thundered in your chest and you tried not to think too hard about it so you snorted out, “I hope you’re comfortable.”
“Since you asked, yes. I very much am, thank you.” 
“You’re so annoying.” 
“I carried those boxes for you.” 
“You didn’t have to if you didn’t make me drop the toiletries.”
“I told you to tape up the box, but you didn’t listen to me, so whose fault is it exactly?”
You rolled your eyes. She was right, but you weren’t about to tell her that. 
“You’re impossible.”
“Impossibly right, yes.”
See? You didn’t have to tell her. 
You scoffed, “Why do I even put up with you?”
“Because you love me,” Alexia said in a matter-of-fact tone that made your heart jump. “Now shush. Let’s nap for a bit and then unpack.”
Alexia yawned, snuggling closer into you. If she heard the way your heart pounded, she didn’t comment on it. As you drifted into a warm slumber, there was weight that pressed against your chest—a realization of some sort—but about what, you didn’t know. 
Only after you woke to find Alexia had unpacked the boxes containing essential items and ordered a bag-full of takeaways; only after the both of you finished dining on paper plates, crossed-legged on the tiled, living room floor, laughing with your mouths full when Alexia made a mess of her food because of her inability to use chopsticks; only after Alexia found her Polaroid camera and took photos of the two of you, her arm slung casually over your shoulder, her lips pressed against your cheek. Then, and only then, did you recognise what that weight was for what it was. 
You knew then: you were utterly and irrevocably gone.
You were in love.
And you could only pray that the heat from your cheeks wouldn’t sell you out. 
[5]
With all the changes that came with moving shelters and clubs, there was no time to think about home. Between getting used to your new club schedules, being acquainted with your new coaches and teammates, and familiarising yourself with the local area, your mind had no energy left to ruminate by the end of the day. And the difference between staying over at Alexia’s—or vice versa—for a few nights and living under the same roof together for the foreseeable future became increasingly obvious as you settled in your apartment in Buñol. 
It was all new but the both of you managed and even somehow established a sort of routine. While you did most of the cooking and half of the cleaning, Alexia did the groceries and, thanks to her natural affinity for the sun—her words, not yours—she insisted on doing the laundry. You teased her about it but more often than not, her weather predictions proved accurate to the forecast, saving the both of you the trouble of dealing with damp clothes. 
But as routine fell into place, so did the yearning for home.
The thing about missing home was that it brought on a different kind of longing. It was the kind that burrowed deep, the kind that dug a gaping hole in your chest and left you at a loss for how to fill it. It provoked the desire to turn back the hands of time, live in a memory, and step back into a moment already gone by. 
Yes, there was a sense of freedom that came with living apart from your family, and sure the distance between Buñol and Mollet was only a three-hour drive or a five-hour train ride away. All of those things are true, but you’d be lying if you said being away from home didn’t feel heavy. 
No more was the comforting presence of your parents at hand nor the jovial company of Alexia’s family nearby; it was just you and Alexia.
And the world never felt bigger than it was now. 
You were lucky, though, to have Alexia with you. She was a piece of home that you took with you, and just having her by your side helped ease the ache somehow. But you have to admit, living with her brought on a different kind of pain. 
Ever since you realized just how deep your feelings for her ran, being around her had only gotten more difficult. Everything and everywhere reminded you of her, and everything she did would send a jolt to your heart that left you breathless. Something as simple as her running her fingers through her hair, or a small smile; a brush against your cheek, a hand against the small of your back—you were sure you were this close to going mad.
The intensity and frequency of these… stutters had only seemed to increase by the day, and frankly, it was beginning to scare you. That, and the questions that had been nagging you lately.
What would Alexia do if she found out that you liked her way more than a friend should? That you liked women? Could Alexia like women? She probably didn’t. She would hate you for this, wouldn’t she? What about your parents? How would you even go about telling them? Would they still love you? What if—
The sound of the key being slotted into the lock, followed by the opening and closing of the door cut your thoughts short. And then came a soft sound, barely audible.
“Alexia?” 
You called out but there was no response so you padded over to the living room. Just before the end of the corridor a small movement caught your eye. You couldn’t help the gasp that escaped your lips even if you tried.
“What—”
The kitten mewled softly again, rubbing itself against the beige tone of the walls as it took you in with those large, yellow eyes. Its coat looked bright and pristine, nearly as white as the petals of the tree heath flowers that bloomed at home in spring. The same flowers that filled the garden of your home with their sweetness. 
“Hey, there. How did you get in here?” You cooed, crouching slowly, before you reached out your hand towards the kitten. It took a cautious step back but you waited patiently, keeping your hand where it was. A moment later, it seemed to have found the courage, stepping forward tentatively to sniff at your finger, before it licked your knuckle. Then it ducked down, nuzzling its head against your palm, its eyes closing from the contact. 
Warmth flooded your chest and you whispered, “Oh, you’re so adorable!”
“She’s yours.”
Your eyes flicked up to find Alexia leaning her weight against the wall, her arms crossed, head tilted slightly to the side; her eyes lidded with something you couldn’t quite recognise but you felt their warmth. The soft smile on her lips made her face look radiant and beneath her gaze, you couldn’t help the heat that rushed to your cheeks.
As an excuse to hide your face, you dipped down your chin to pick the kitten who only yawned in response. 
“Mine?” You asked as you stood up and walked over to where Alexia was, stopping just an arm’s length away.
Alexia only hummed in agreement, her smile still as soft as ever.
At that, you reached and draped your free arm around her neck, whispering against her ear, “Thank you.”
She moved, finally, wrapping her arms around your waist to pull you closer.
“You’re welcome.” Her words, murmured though as they were, curled through the smile you knew she still wore and made their home in your heart. 
“What are you going to name her?” Alexia asked.
“Nona.”
“Nona?”
You hummed in confirmation. You pulled away just enough to make space to look at Nona, and you tried hard not to focus too much on how Alexia had settled her hands on your hips. 
“Mamá, Papá, me” you began, putting up a digit on your free hand as you listed each one, “You, Alba, Eli, Jaume, Guille…”
“And Nona,” Alexia finished for you, smiling down at Nona. Alexia met your eyes again.
“Your family of nine?”
“Mine,” you nodded, “And yours, too.” 
Alexia beamed down at you but then she scrunched her nose. 
“Does Guille need to be there?”
“Alexia!” 
[6]
It was raining when Alexia told you.
On a damp Monday night, a few months following your move to Levante—after the both of you found an apartment in Buñol, and after that fateful day of realisation—she said something that changed everything. 
Throughout the day, you couldn’t help but notice how strange Alexia was behaving. She’d twisted and fiddled with the hem of her jersey during today’s practice enough that she’d torn a hole through one spot. She’d twirled that loose lock of her hair so many times that you’d already lost count, and on the drive home, more than once, sped through a yellow sign. Even now, she was silent beside you as she helped cook the meal for you two tonight when usually, she would have gone over what happened at practice twice at this point. 
And at the rate she was going, she’d end up gnawing off the skin of her lower lip. 
“Why don’t you go ahead and clean up first?” You said as casually as you could, taking both of your plates off the table and moving towards the sink.
Alexia eyed you. 
“Is everything alright?” She asked. You caught a sight of her over your shoulder, sitting up, more alert than a second ago. 
“No, nothing. Why do you ask that?”
A pregnant pause.
“Because you normally let me help with the dishes.”
You shrugged, turning back to the sink. “Seriously, Alexia. It’s nothing. You just look tired. Now go so I can shower. We can put on AHS after.”
Another pause and then finally, you heard the scrape of her chair against the tiles.
“Alright,” she mumbled before her footsteps receded.
Much later, when you’d finished cleaning up and showered, the two of you wounded up on the couch, wrapped in each other with an episode of American Horror Story playing in the background. Alexia’s head was tucked in the crook of your neck while you played with a loose lock of her hair when you finally asked her.
“Are you ready to tell me what you’ve been worrying about all day, or should I keep pretending that I haven’t noticed?” 
You kept your tone light, almost teasing, because you had a feeling that whatever Alexia was about to say had weight to it. And surely enough, as soon as the question had left your mouth did Alexia stiffen against you and her breathing stilled. It took her another moment to pull away, untangling herself from you, before she reclined against the couch. 
Without so much as looking at you, she countered, “Could you hate me?”
The question jarred you and you couldn’t help but frown in confusion. What kind of question was that? You looked at her—searching for answers as to why she would ask such a thing—but Alexia kept her eyes fixed to the TV while the flashing images made shadows play on the smooth neutrality of her forehead and cheeks. You found no answer, so you replied truthfully. 
“No. Disappointed maybe, but hate? I can’t think of anything that would make me hate you.”
At that, her shoulders curled forward, arms crossing over her chest, and her chin dipped down so low it almost looked uncomfortable. 
She said softly, “Just think about it.”
Silence settled—heavily. 
You gnawed your lip, turning over everything in your head, as you tried desperately to come up with something. But nothing.
“Honestly, Alexia, unless you killed someone, I really can’t think of anything else.”
“I—” Alexia started but a choke cut off the rest of it. 
The sound came out so suddenly that it seemed to reverberate, bouncing off the walls and resounded loud in your ears. You sat up, alert, fully facing Alexia who now had her hands over her face, shielding her eyes from your view. She drew in a breath, and what she released was something shaky. 
You’d never seen her like this before, and you’d faced more than a handful of adversities together. What could possibly be making her hurt like this? Your gut twisted at the sight of her and you were filled with an overwhelming urge to take her in your arms. Instead, you settled for a light touch to her knee.
“Alexia,” you began softly, “What is it?”
Under the shield of her hand, you saw her lips quiver. Then a tear ran down her chin.
You ached at the sight but you remained silent.
“I’m—” Her lips twisted to a grimace. “I—I don’t know how it happened I just—”
Another pause.
“I like women.”
For a moment, the air stilled; almost like a vacuum had swallowed up all sounds. And then something swelled: blood rushed into your ears, and, as if life had broken a shell, a flood washed over you, filling each and every bone; and it felt a lot like hope. 
The raw sob that escaped Alexia’s throat broke you from your epiphany. She must’ve misunderstood your silence because now, she’d curled even further into herself, palms digging into her sockets. You shook yourself, mentally scolding yourself for getting distracted, before you moved closer to her.
“Oh, Alexia.” She flinched away when she felt your arms around her but you only clung tighter. “Thank you, Alexia, for trusting me with this. I want you to know that you don’t have to hide from me, that this doesn’t change anything no matter how that voice in your head might tell you otherwise. You’re still Alexia, and I—I love you all the same. I don’t hate you, I promise, and I won’t. I’ll always be here.”
When you whispered those words into her ear, she finally sagged into your embrace, turning her head so it rested, again, in the crook of your neck where she released a sob. This time, it sounded more from relief than from grief. 
There, on the couch, you held her until she fell asleep. 
“You know,” you whispered in the dark, tucking a lock of Alexia’s hair behind her ear long after she’d fallen asleep. Alexia didn’t stir, and you continued to no one in particular, “You’re not getting rid of me that easily.”
And there with your whole world in your arms, you finally allowed yourself the luxury to hope.
[7]
When you were seven, just a few months before you met Alexia, an idea dawned on you. Sick and tired of the kid’s pool, with its small and, if you were being honest, slightly unkempt water, the large one next door offered freedom—a tantalizing concept for a child. You stood at one end of that pool and found a face of determination reflected back at you. You were going to do it; you would swim across the length of the pool and make it to the other side. 
And then, you jumped in.
It took about a minute or two before your muscles started burning, hardening to a cramp with every stroke, and yet the other side didn’t look any closer. That was when it sank in; the pool was far too large. There was a brief moment when you gasped for air and remembered to swim towards the nearest edge, just like your father taught you, but by that point it was already too late.
Water rushed into your nose and mouth, bringing stinging hopelessness in their wake, clogging your throat with a muffling silence that stifled your scream.
Your father barely caught you in time.
Yes, you remembered all too well that burn in your lungs. 
If that pool was a frozen lake, what would drowning feel like? 
In Barcelona, the lakes never froze in winter. Even the westerly winds that brought the Atlantic squalls slithering under each door in the city in cold February weren’t enough to make the chill settle in. The only time your bones truly felt the bitter meaning of winter was when you’d gone to Norway to attend a relative’s funeral, and the occasion did nothing to lessen the cold. It was also the first time you’d ever stepped foot on ice, and the fear that lanced through you at the sound of the first crack—seemingly almost like a thunder out of the blue—left you rooted to the spot, fearful that a breath could put you under.
Waiting for death felt just like that; like walking on a slate of ice. 
And the aftermath? 
A drowning of a different kind.
Every phone call was a step on that thin slate of ice; every step a space closer to certainty, each one a crack on that fragile surface, another moment closer to a falling in. The thing was, death was as true as the ice giving way but no matter how inevitable the end may be, or how slow the unfurling of that mortal coil may seem, the force of the fall was no less devastating. The ice would shatter and there would be a split-second when you’d feel suspended, held by a single thread of hope for one last miracle—the only miracle that mattered—but there was no saving you from the freezing waters. 
And nobody ever told you about how quickly you would sink under; about how the cold would bite their way down to the bones while your blood sang that familiar rhythm of life, a bitter reminder of the clear division between past and present—the antecedent and the aftermath; and just how painful it would be to be stuck in-between remembering what once was and what could have been.
In that space, in that frigid depth, no amount of screaming nor air could prevent you from drowning. Without the arms of a father to save you, how could you not drown?
And the worst part?
There was no bottom to grief; you either float or sink in that frozen lake.
And Alexia sank. 
[8]
Days passed, weeks, then months; the world kept turning. Life demanded you to be present and compelled you to move forward like everyone else. And yet still, even after changing everything in its wake, grief lingered as it always did. 
There were still times when you’d catch Alexia turn from every mirror, eyes casted down almost out of fear of what she’d see. How could you look at your reflection when every bit of skin there held the reminders of what you’d lost? Every reminder brought with it a memory, and what were memories if not a mouth full of teeth? It was a mouth that took every opportunity to bare its teeth, to gnaw at that hole in your chest until the edges were raw again—like they never healed to begin with. Again and again, it bit; its teeth, painting themselves red.
But if anything could transcend time itself, it was the resilience of the human spirit. Even if her father was never far from her mind, Alexia pressed forward; now for two hearts instead of one. 
Winter ended finally, and the sun rose again. And when summer arrived, so did the news. 
“Llorens spoke with me today,” Alexia spoke over the running of the tap. You looked at her over your shoulder, she was leaning against the frame of the kitchen door. She said the next part in a tone so soft that you barely caught it.
“He said… They asked me to rejoin Barça.”
Your eyes widened and it only took you a moment before you ran to her, wrapping your arms around Alexia’s neck, while Alexia returned the embrace by putting her arms around your waist. 
“Holy shit, Alexia! That’s amazing!” You practically screamed into her ear. Pulling away to look at her, you found pride shining in her eyes but for reasons you couldn’t quite understand, there was a weight that burdened the corners of her lips. You knew just how much this meant to her, getting back into Barça, and it worried you that she wasn’t celebrating like you’d expected her to.
You asked gently, “Hey, what’s wrong?”
At that, she sighed heavily, tightening her hold around your waist as she did. She gnawed at her lower lip, brows creasing.
“You haven’t heard anything from them?”
“No,” you admitted, ignoring the twinge in your chest. “It doesn’t matter, Alexia. This is your opportunity to go back. When are you due to leave?”
“I—I told them I’d get back to them tomorrow.”
Your eyes nearly bulged out of their sockets.
“What! Alexia, what’s gotten into you?”
“I don’t want to leave you alone.”
Finally, you recognised what it was that was casting its familiar shadows in her eyes: worry. Although you were grateful that she was, it was completely unnecessary and borderline irrational. She shouldn’t throw away what she worked hard for because you couldn’t perform at the same level, and no way in hell would you let her feel bad for your own inadequacy. 
You took her face into your hands, looking into her eyes as you enunciated each word slowly.
“Alexia, listen to me. You will meet with Llorens first thing tomorrow, and you will put that pen to paper, do you hear me? And then you will leave Levante without me—” when she opened her mouth, as if to protest, you pressed a finger to her lips. “You will leave Levante without me, and you will play for Barça come this season. There are no ‘buts’ here, Alexia. You have to do this. You owe yourself that much.”
Alexia remained quiet but she looked at you with large eyes that made your heart ache the way it always did for her. 
And then, “What about you?”
“I will work twice as hard. And I will meet you there,” you whispered, losing yourself in the depth of her eyes. “I promise.”
Alexia nodded and slowly, a smile made its way onto her lips.
“You better.” She mumbled. Then she added playfully, “Now get your hands off of my face, you’ve made it all wet.”
You flashed her a devilish grin before you wiped one of your hands down her face. 
[9]
It wasn’t until a month after your first game with Barça that you saw Diana again. 
With her line of work, it was no surprise that she was an incredibly busy person. That meant her stays in Barcelona were brief enough that she couldn’t make it to any friendly hangouts the way your other friends’ partners could, only ever having the time for Alexia which was the most important thing. So when Alexia messaged the group chat last night that she and Diana would be lunching with you, Patri, Tori, and Mapi today, everyone received the news with barely hidden enthusiasm. 
And this was how you found yourself sitting at the head of the table with Patri sitting on the other end, Alexia and Diana to your left with Alexia’s arm draped casually over the back of Diana’s chair, while Mapi and Tori sat to your right. As you all waited for your food to arrive, you engaged in a light and friendly conversation. Mapi and Tori were a lethal duo when it came to jokes, almost having all of you keel over from laughter, causing the eyes of the other patrons in the restaurant to flit to your table, and you were sure you saw barely hidden amusement on the face of the waiter that served you. 
Lunch was going well—for your part especially—with all things considered. So you took this time to appreciate Alexia and Diana together just like this because you never got the chance to. And it was clear that the both of them made quite the pair; so beautiful that they almost looked untouchable. They kept their displays of affection sparse and yet the smallest of gestures held a thousand words. In Diana’s presence, Alexia seemed so happy and she had an air about her so light she was almost like the sun. 
You couldn’t help it, you smiled at the sight. Seeing Alexia like this was enough for you, and you knew this. She deserved this. If only Patri could stop eyeing you with worry, you could keep pretending that twinge in your chest didn’t exist. 
Everything was going well, but the universe—as it seemed to become accustomed to lately—was adamant to prove you wrong. Or, maybe you should’ve just crushed your feelings under foot once and for all. It was when the food arrived that things took a turn for the worse. 
When the last dish was delivered by the waiter, Tori, Patri, and Diana fell in a conversation. Mapi, you spied, was not so subtly texting someone beneath the table—Ingrid, you guessed, by the way her eyes shone and her nose crinkled in delight. Alexia on the other hand was left to fend for herself… against her food. 
After all this time, Alexia still couldn’t eat properly with chopsticks. It was definitely the bulkness of her hands that made her clumsy with the delicate tools; you’d told her as much before. You bit your tongue before you could tell her that again. Instead, you teased her.
“Are you playing with your food?”
Alexia glared at you but still, color rose to her cheeks as she grumbled. 
“Shut up. You know using these things is difficult for me.”
“Stop sulking. Besides, I already taught you before.” You rolled your eyes. Then you instructed, “Open your palm.”
She pouted but she did what you asked anyway.
“Your hands are too big so you have to hold them at the very end. Let the bottom one rest in the crook of your thumb, yes, that’s it. And hold the top like you’re writing with a pen. Loosen up a bit, you’re too tense.”
You adjusted the placement of the chopsticks slightly, “Just close your thumb over the sticks and move your—That’s it! You got it, you got it.”
With a triumphant smile, Alexia finally succeeded at her attempt to pick up her food. And when her smile curled over the food she put in her mouth, a warmth flooded the cavity of your chest. The sparkle in her eyes just then somehow made you feel like a teenager again. 
You didn’t know what it was that drew your attention to her, but your gaze flitted over to Diana. You weren’t sure what you expected; maybe that she was still talking with Patri or Tori… only she wasn’t. She was staring at you with a face set in a stoicism so neutral—her lips drawn to a careful line—that you had this unsettling feeling that she was everything but impassive. Her eyes betrayed her the most: they were sharp, barely narrowed, and there was an attentiveness in them that made you feel transparent—exposed—as if she could see right through you; as if she’d found something. 
A chill ran through you, and you shuddered internally.
Quickly, you averted your eyes back down to your meal. Developing an excessive interest in your food, you receded into yourself and tried to school your face to what you hope was impartial nonchalance. A little later when you finally felt brave enough to chance a look at Diana, you saw her talking to Patri and Tori again, laughing and smiling as if the moment between the two of you never happened.
You relaxed and you found breathing easy again. 
Maybe you were just being paranoid.
But really, you should’ve known better.
[10]
Time, with its infamous predisposition to fly, had snuck up on you. 
A blink of an eye found you stepping out of a plane in the middle of August and the next thing you knew, December only had days to breathe. Ending the year at the top of La Liga, together with your clean sheets, was nothing short of a relief. It was a testament to how you’ve integrated yourself with the team so far, but you knew enough that this shouldn’t call for complacency. In fact, it demanded the opposite; you needed to work harder especially with the match against Lyon looming closer in the horizon. 
For now though, rest was due. 
Most of your teammates had either flown themselves home or somewhere far warmer than Barcelona’s dropping temperature. For those who stayed, like you, you needed to find a way to amuse yourselves without freezing. Tonight, it seemed that the club was the unanimous choice: what better way to stay warm and have fun than to get drunk and dance? 
That was how you found yourself under flashing lights nursing your own glass while you watched the rest of your team get their freaks on from the bar. You knew Patri was already four shots down—you all had only been here an hour; Mapi and Ingrid were getting a little too cozy in a secluded corner, which you couldn’t fault them for since it was Ingrid’s last day in the city before she had to go home; Alexia had vanished with Diana to do who knew what, while Aitana and Ona were losing it on the dance floor. 
Aitana and Ona spotted you hanging out at the bar so they began to wave you over with enthusiasm. You shook your head at the display, smiling, and made to move off the counter you were leaning on when a tap on your shoulder caught your attention. But before you could turn to see who it was, a familiar voice pierced through the music. 
“I didn’t expect to see you here.”
Standing behind you was a woman; the stewardess that ushered you off your plane. Out of her work clothes and the dull setting of a plane, her beauty shone through untarnished. Gone was the sleek hairdo and instead, she’d opted to leave her hair down. Her short hair barely grazed her collarbones, you noted, and as you traced their outline, you found the piercing in her sternum glinting in silent invitation. She was wearing a simple black dress that revealed just enough of her chest to entice, the thin fabric of it accentuating the curves of her waist, and it stopped just halfway down the length of her thighs to reveal the intricate lines of floral tattoos on her side. 
Finally catching yourself, you tore your eyes away and found her gaze. What you found reflected in them was amusement and you tried to stop your cheeks from burning. 
As casually as you could, you said, “Oh, hey, it’s you. I… actually never caught your name.”
“Micah,” she replied, extending out a hand. You took it as you told her yours. She leaned on the bar, waved the bartender over who gave her the drink she asked for, and took a sip. Then she turned back to you. 
“You know, I never expected to see you again. And in a gay club, of all places.”
“Why not a gay club?” You asked with a small laugh.
She shrugged, one corner of her mouth quirking up almost sheepishly.
“I may have searched your name up after I met you. No history of relationships, just multiple pictures of you with the same guy. I thought he’s your boyfriend, so.”
“Is it a guy with curly hair?”
“Yeah.”
At that you let out another small laugh.
“That’s Guille, my best friend. He’s like a brother.”
“Oh.” Micah’s cheeks flushed. 
You gave her a grin, “Yeah. But just to clarify, I am, in fact, into women. Exclusively.”
As if a switch has been flipped, Micah’s demeanour shifted, eyes now smouldering. The change affected you in ways you didn’t anticipate and with your slight height over her, it became difficult to keep your eyes where they should be, especially when the silver glint of her piercing tempted your eyes downwards. But just as the alcohol had thinned your blood, your self-control frayed all the same; your eyes roamed down to her cleavage which you admired briefly, before you met her gaze again.
That seemed to be the signal Micah was looking for because she stepped into your space, her drink now sitting forgotten on the counter. She dragged her fingers up your arm, all the way to your exposed collarbone where she traced the skin there while she watched you with dark eyes, her plump lip between her teeth. 
You shivered; she was so close now that the heat of her body washed over you. 
“Really? Prove it, then.” Micah whispered, ghosting her lips over yours.
You leaned forward when she pulled back slightly, as if magnetized to her lips. Then you asked, “How?”
“Dance with me.”
She dragged you to the dancefloor and you let yourself be swept away in the sea of bodies moving to the same rhythm. And then the both of you danced, her body against yours, your hands tracing her outlines as you pulled her closer as she did the same to you. 
Time blurred into a singularity after that but it existed again when, at one point, Micah took your cheek into her palm to pull you down for a kiss. Her lips were searing hot when they branded yours that you couldn’t help but gasp and moan into them, a sound which Micah gladly swallowed. 
It had been a while since you’d been touched and you didn’t realise just how much you missed it: the skim of skin over skin, the languidness of your blood turning to molten rush; how you missed the deprivation of air from your lungs and the delicious ache that came with it. And how you missed touching another. Your hands sought the exposed skin of her back, relishing the softness beneath your palms as you settled them there, respectfully just above her ass, to pull her in, flushed to your body.
She sighed and she looped her arms around your neck; deeper, hotter.
And in the heat, you lost yourself. 
You couldn’t remember how the both of you made it to your apartment, only that she ended up on top of you, head between your legs as you gasped out her name in the dark. And when she braced herself against her elbow, her other hand working you over the edge once more, you couldn’t help but note how beautiful she was with her curtain of brown hair, her lips slightly parted, eyes shining in the dark.
And when you came on her fingers with her lips on yours, you had a nagging feeling that this felt a lot like when you were nineteen. 
[11]
Clutching your head, you tried to soothe the remnants of your hangover as you headed over the door. You squinted at the light that shone through when you opened it and when the blob in front of you assumed a semblance of familiarity, you croaked out a question.
“Alexia? What’re you doing here?”
“Wow, you look like you’ve been hit by a truck.” Alexia teased but when you glared at her, she finally answered your question. She lifted her hand and that was when you noticed what she was holding. “Got your jacket. You left it at the club last night.”
You blinked at her, eyes still squinted, and enunciated each word slowly. “You drove all the way here. To drop off my jacket.”
She nodded.
“And you couldn’t have waited until dinner tonight?”
“Nope. The jacket was of utmost priority, obviously. Second priority, of course, is to check that you haven’t dropped dead yet. Third, to make sure you show up at dinner on time.” Alexia stepped back and gave you a once-over. “And by the looks of it, you need more than just a check up.” 
“Fuck you.” 
At that, her brows only creased as she threw her head back to laugh. 
“Rough morning, huh?” 
“I’m glad you find my hangover amusing.” You grunted, turning to shuffle back into the kitchen to make the coffee you were about to prepare before a clown interrupted you. “Close the door, you’re letting all the heat out.”
“Okay, Grumpy.” Alexia said behind you and you heard the door close. A rustle of fabric, and then, “Go drink some water and maybe then you can actually hold a conversation.”
You rolled your eyes even though she couldn’t see your face. 
“Shut up. I’ve only been awake for an hour.” 
“Sure.” Alexia dragged out her answer like she believed what you just said—she didn’t.
You turned on the coffee machine and pressed the button for a double shot. The sound of whirring filled the air.
“You want some coffee?” You asked, looking at Alexia over your shoulder who you found was not-so-subtly craning her neck to look down the hall. When she saw you looking at her, Alexia flashed you a questioning look.
“Are we alone or… ?” Alexia trailed off but before she could finish the question, you nodded. She walked to the counter and picked an apple from the fruit bowl.
“Oh, okay, good. And no, thanks, I already had a shot before I left home this morning.” 
You returned to your coffee, placing the cup aside so you could prepare the milk. 
Beside you, you heard the running of the tap and then a rustling of clothes followed by a slight thump. From the corner of your eye, you spied Alexia leaning against the counter. 
You just finished pouring the milk into your cup when you heard Alexia hum before the unmistakable bite to the flesh of an apple. Lifting the cup, you took a sip and welcomed the bitterness of caffeine on your tongue. 
“You know,” Alexia started, “you never told me you liked women.”
You froze. 
The lingering euphoria from last night—along with the excitement from Micah’s proposal for a next time when she left early this morning—immediately vanished. There was something about the nonchalant way that Alexia got you; it cut you deep. And the wounds you thought were long healed now bled through their stitches. A dot of coffee stained the white countertop, followed by another, and before your cup slipped from your grip, you put it down and pressed your shaking hands flat on the countertop. 
“What?” Your tone was tame but you were everything but. Pressure rose in your veins because how dared she. How dared she.
“I’m not mad or anything, I’m just surprised that’s all.” Alexia laughed lightly but the sound grated at your ears. 
“Was that a recent development? Did you find that out in the States?” Then she continued with a bit of guilt seeping through her voice. “If you found out before you moved to Angel City, I hope I never made you feel as though you couldn’t share that with me. And if I did, then I’m—”
“Please, don’t insult me, Alexia.”
As if finally detecting the ice in your tone, you saw her head turn towards you from the corner of your eye, but you made no move to look at her. 
 “I’m not insulting you. It’s just–I’m a terrible friend for never seeing the signs and that I couldn’t be there for you.”
“Are you fucking kidding me?” You scoffed but it sounded more like a choked sob than anything. The world blurred before you and you watched as your tears mixed with the coffee stains on the counter. 
“Hey, what’s wrong?” Came Alexia’s concerned voice before you heard a rustling of clothes, and then the touch to your shoulder. The reaction of your body was visceral: you stumbled back as you slapped her hand away as if she’d burnt you.
“Don’t touch me!” Heat pricked around the skin where she’d touch you, and you felt as if something was crawling beneath. “Get out.”
“What?”
Finally, you looked her in the eye and the force of the movement made your tears fall. Alexia stood there frozen, mouth agape, eyes wide and brows knotted in horror. You couldn’t care less; looking at her hurt and you wanted her out of your apartment—now. 
“I said leave.”
Alexia ran a frustrated hand through her hair and she pleaded, “Tell me what I did!”
“Get out, Alexia!” 
She opened her mouth, stopped midway, and finally shook her head. With one last look at you, she turned for the door but before she stepped out, she turned back to you. She sighed then said in a small voice.
“I don’t know what happened but I’m sorry anyway. I… I’ll see you tonight.”
With that, the door closed. At the click of the lock, you slid down to the floor; your back against the surface of the cabinets with Alexia’s half-eaten apple by your feet. 
She really did forget, didn’t she? And you were the only one who remembered because between the two of you, it was only you who cared enough to latch onto the memory. She didn’t care, and you doubted she ever did to begin with. Why did you think otherwise? Why?
Your face fell into your hands, and you sobbed. 
Stupid.
You were so fucking stupid. 
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yuwuta · 8 months ago
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JJK OLYMPICS OHHH YOURE A GENIUS
head spinning w sooooooo many athlete aus rn….. 
satoru honestly isn’t half as cocky as the media makes him out to be but he could be because you bring up world champion men’s freestyle swim times and it’s his name on the scoreboard ten times before someone else shows up. he’s faster than himself by fifteen seconds all around, he’s earned a bit of cockiness. mentioned in the last post that whenever he’s at a competition and he finishes a race, he looks at the camera and signs a little infinity sign and then blows a kiss to you. some bitter old coach always calls him out on it, and gets him fined for unsportsmanlike conduct, and he’s happy to pay the fees if it means getting a message home to you, but eventually you two come up with a new code; and at his next race, he places gold, turns to the camera, crosses his middle finger over his pointer finger and smiles. when he’s in his post-race interview, he makes sure to explain that he does it for you with the widest smile on his face.
megumi nepotism baby but not in the same sport. toji was a multi gold medalist back in his heyday for shooting, so it’s not really a surprise to anybody that megumi has scary good aim, but he takes to archery instead of shooting. actually the idea of megumi being an emo little kid and throwing rocks at a tree when his dad pissed him off his hilarious, and even funnier is toji watching him, slightly amused and a little scared because megumi is maybe six and hitting the exact same spot every single time. he grows to be very blase about it—it’s more of a release/hobby for him that he happens to be really good at, and well, now good enough to earn a few olympic medals. megumi is not a fan of having his dad ruffle his hair on international television after he’s won, but he supposes it can’t be helped.
i don’t know where to put yuuta…. tennis…. tempting….. him in his little white shorts…. little grunts after he serves…. cries….. a complete 180 in his personality when he’s playing vs doing anything else. so charming and sweet and kinda shy when he’s being interviewed, and the second he steps on the court his eyes are so cold it’s scary…. need him… extremely nerdy about his rackets, and shoes, and clothes, and rambles to you about aerodynamics and posture and torque whenever you ask him to teach you, and you always have to shutup him up with a kiss and remind him that yeah you sort of want to learn to play tennis for him, but mostly you came bc he looks hot doing it. once he got asked in an interview if he ever thinks about you while he’s playing and his response was very concise, “no, never. it would be a big distraction,” and did not realize the implications of his heavily televised words. 
also…. not to make this post 40% yuuta but we could pull from canon a bit and make his sport fencing. he doesn’t excel because he’s the strongest, it’s because he’s learned to treat the sword as an extension of himself and a good strategist… also because i like the image of him pulling the helmet/mask off and shaking his hair out………..
don’t even know where to put yuuji…. volleyball? basketball? track and field??? the irony of him easily being the most athletic but canonically does not want to play sports 😭 but i can see him playing a sport because someone scouts him and it turns out to be a way to make steady money to support himself and his grandpa :( by the time he’s qualified and made it to the olympics, wasuke is doing much better (thanks to yuuji having landed some preemptive sponsorships and being able to afford better medical care), but not so well enough that he can travel across the world to watch yuuji play. wasuke tells you that you should travel and be with yuuji, but yuuji is so touched by the idea that you would stay with his grandpa and be by his side when he’s away :(( he wins gold, of course, and he doesn’t even wait until the closing ceremony—which, he’d mentioned in all of his interviews, so nobody can be too upset. he’s on record saying, “i’m excited to play, but i’m even happier to be going home. my girlfriend and my grandpa are watching me and i miss them!” several times— he’s on the first flight home with flowers, and tears in his eyes. puts his gold medal on his grandpa’s neck as a thank you, and spends probably thirty minutes straight hugging you and kissing you and honestly don’t put it past him to propose now that he’s got nike ambassador money 
nanami started judo as a way to relieve the stress of his overbearing job, and someone at the gym/training center notices he seems to be a natural despite being a beginner. he starts to draw a crowd, which annoys him at first because the point of judo was discipline and release from having to deal with too many people at his office job, but nanami supposes he can’t be too mad when you introduce yourself as a talent scout and offer him professional training. there’s irony in him accepting your offer, because it was definitely not based in professionalism at all… quitting his job as a salaryman to become a professional athlete in his mid-twenties was not on his bingo chart, but if it means he will have met you, then so be it. you’re with him all the way, through his training, competitions, world championships, qualifiers, all the way until he’s on the podium. you’re the first to congratulate him, but he interjects by telling you he’s quitting. you ask him why—he just won at the olympics for crying out loud, but nanami just shakes his head, puts down his flowers and his medal so his hands are free to hold your face and tell you, “it would be unethical to kiss my manager, so i am quitting.” (later, when everything is said and done, and you two are cuddling, you mention to him that he could just hire a new manager, and not quit his new career, to which he blushes because yeah… that’s probably more rational, but rational was not in his train of thought at the time)
#anonymous#nanami kento.......................................... god#also yuuji :((((( just a kid who wanted to do something nice for his grandpa I will CRY#immediate proposal when he gets home to you who does he think he is? yuuta?#speaking of yuuta he's like the best player his age and he's always asked to attend events or parties or whatever#and he's always like ah no thank you I am going home to my girlfriend#every fucking interview it's like yeah I love tennis but I love my girlfriend more for supporting and encouraging me#my girlfriend my girlfriend my girlfriend#one day he actually seems Excited to be doing his press conference and a journalist picks up on it to which yuuta happily raises his hand#and lets everyone know that he's now engaged. and very very grateful for his wife#he does the same shit a few years later like randomly during a press conference he's like#'I am kinda nervous. my baby didn't sleep well last night so I was up with him pretty late' and everyone's like BABY?#and yuutas like yeah! he's almost 14 months now do u wanna see him!#let me stop bringing kids into this bc w/ satoru and kento I could go on for hours....#jjk x reader#jujutsu kaisen x reader#jujutsu kaisen fluff#jujutsu kaisen smut#gojo x reader#gojo smut#yuuta x reader#yuuji x reader#megumi x reader#nanami kento x reader#once u asked megumi what he thinks about when he's practicing and he's so deadpan as he reloads and arrow#and right before he lets it go he's like 'ur ex boyfriend' and then hits the target dead in the center LMFAO#olympics au
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poorly-drawn-mdzs · 7 months ago
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Dungeon Meshi: The RPG
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nerdallwritey · 8 months ago
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Just to Ruin Me
Summary: “You don’t have to tell me any of this right now,” you said. “A lot has changed in the past few hours and there’s no rush in sharing these things with me. I know how hard it was to talk about your past the first time.” “It was necessary, though,” Astarion looked over at you, his expression determined. “You needed to know what we might be up against. And you might need to know this too.” “If you want to tell me, then I’m happy to listen, but please don’t force yourself for my sake.” Astarion released a puff of air from his nose. “You keep doing that.” “Doing what?” “Asking me what I want. Letting me choose.” OR The morning after you spend the night with Astarion, you learn another thing or two.
Pairing: Astarion x f!reader Rating: 18+ Word count: 12.5k CW: smut, reader is new to sex, piv sex, vaginal fingering, dry humping, mentions of Astarion's past trauma, blood drinking, mild angst, soft Astarion, porn with feelings, reader is an idiot (and a bard), so is Astarion (not a bard, just an idiot), the other companions are also idiots, but don't piss of Shadowheart Spoilers: Minor spoilers for Act 1 (in-game dialogue, plot points, etc.), as well as Astarion's plotline Also posted to: AO3 FAIR WARNING: This is PART 2 in my series, "Beauty and the Bard." Find Part 1 here. Find the masterlist here.
a/n: Thanks to everyone who read Part 1!!! Your kind comments and encouragement spurred me to write Part 2 and I hope it's a sequel that lives up to expectations!! I know the summary is a little angsty, but I promise there's more banter to be had. Everyone is still a goof, after all. Please enjoy :) (Thank you to @kermitwazowski for beta reading!) As a reminder, the last part ended with the following few lines: “For now, you were content to sleep under the stars in Astarion’s arms. It was the best sleep you’d ever had.”
Taglist: @a66-1 @khaleesiofthewolves @khywren @lollipopsandlandmines @minestrones
Okay, so maybe it wasn’t the best sleep you’d ever had.
Though you’d grown accustomed to roughing it in the last few weeks since the nautiloid crash, waking up in the forest was still a shock. It had its charms, sure, like the fresh air and the breeze blowing in off the mountains, but the appeal was starting to wane. Especially after one too many nights of having to take a dip in the frigid lake next to camp to rid yourself of gnoll blood. 
This morning however, you found yourself surrounded by blankets and pillows from your camp in the middle of a clearing surrounded by large pine trees, all of which had been thoughtfully arranged by the figure trancing beside you. Your own sleeping figure sighed comfortably, unbothered by the lack of a mattress or a hot bath, just a nice deep sleep-
Astarion whacked you in the face.
Your eyes shot open.
“OW?” You scrunched your nose and blinked a few times to get your bearings. 
It was still dark. The forest around you was painted a delicate shade of periwinkle. You’d hazard a guess that it was just a little before dawn. 
At some point in the night, you’d rolled onto your back, away from Astarion, who was now curled to your right, his back facing you. He must have just rolled over, explaining the harsh wake up from his forearm. You smiled softly and instinctively brought your hand to rub your forehead where he’d made the unfortunate contact. 
Blinking a little more, your eyes were beginning to adjust. From this angle, you had a clear line of sight to the large scar that overran a majority of his back. You squinted in the dark to try and get a clearer view of the terrible thing, but came up short due to the shadows of tree branches being cast from above. Still just a mandala of jagged lines and brutal curves. When you got your hands on Cazador, you’d…
No.
No, that wasn’t your fight. 
But you’d be gods damned if you wouldn’t be there for every bloody moment Astarion faced him, giving support however you could. Though you had to admit that it would be so gratifying to corner the bastard and cast a quick little Otto’s Irresistible Dance… Assuming you’d be strong enough to cast it by then… Gods, he’d look so fucking stupid just before Astarion plunged a knife through his heart-
Enough. Battle strategies and sick, twisted (but satisfying) revenge fantasies later. Right now you noticed that the shifting of the shadows on his back wasn’t from a breeze shaking the branches above you, but because Astarion himself was trembling. 
Your first instinct was to reach out and touch him, but you quickly retracted your hand. Based on the short whimpers he was letting out, it seemed like he was having a nightmare.
How was one supposed to wake someone from a nightmare again? With Astarion you’d have to be extra careful; you wouldn’t be surprised if he’d stowed a knife somewhere within these blankets that he might reach for in a surge of waking fear. 
That… would not be pleasant. 
You shifted to sit up and look around.
Ow.
A dull throbbing made itself known between your legs.
No, that was great. Spectacular, in fact. You’d have to stop and assess later.
Gingerly, you got onto your knees and peered around at your surroundings. Astarion had done a decent job of cleaning up the clearing to make room for this blanket nest, so there wasn’t a poking stick to be seen within reaching distance.
Not that you were going to poke him with a stick… but the thought had crossed your mind. You were still tired! You’d been fucked for the first time last night! There was a lot going on! 
You shook your head to clear the stupid overlapping thoughts and set to looking around for a wayward pillow. You spotted one in the far corner and made your way over to it carefully but with some haste to end Astarion’s unconscious suffering. 
You crawled back over to him. And then backed up a little. Just in case.
“Astarion,” you sang quietly. 
Astarion continued trembling, but you heard him inhale sharply. A good sign?
You raised your voice a little, but kept the same musical cadence. “Astaaaarioooon.”
Nothing.
Okay fine. 
“Sorry,” you said quietly, then threw the pillow at Astarion, hitting him squarely on the back of the head. You leaned forward to grab your own pillow as a protective shield as he gasped and shot up.
“What the hells? What’s happening?” Astarion rolled onto his back and frantically looked around until his eyes landed on you. 
You smiled sheepishly and waved at him lamely from behind your pillow. “Hi.”
Astarion narrowed his eyes, confused. He shook his head, then lifted a hand to the back of his head where the pillow had hit him. “What did you do?”
“You were having a nightmare.”
“Oh, I know what I was doing,” his tone was sarcastic. “What were you doing?”
You looked down at your lap, guilty. “I couldn’t remember how to wake someone up from a nightmare.”
“So you assaulted me?”
“I didn’t know if you had a knife!”
“Why would I have a knife? What is happening?!” He sat up fully and brought a hand to his forehead as if he were in pain. 
“Are you okay?”
“Thankfully, I’ll live,” he opened his eyes and looked at you, his hand still on his forehead. 
You huffed. “I meant with the nightmare.”
Astarion sighed and closed his eyes again. “It’s far too early to discuss this.” He tilted his head up towards the sky, which was getting brighter with every passing moment. A practiced smirk appeared on his face and he looked at you once more. “I’d much rather know if you’re okay, darling.”
You narrowed your eyes at him. 
“We had a lot of fun last night, didn’t we?”
“Seeing as how I’m always a lot of fun, I don’t understand why you’re posing this question.” You looked down your nose at him. 
He hung his head and sighed exasperatedly. “Will you simply allow me to work my charms on you?”
You tutted. “Is that what you were trying to do just now?”
“Attempting to, yes.” Astarion crossed his arms. “I’m usually irresistible.”
You snorted. “Okay,” you said, a small smile appearing on your face. “I’m going to ignore your lack of an answer about your nightmare and will elect to wait until you’re ready to tell me about it yourself.”
Astarion pursed his lips.
“But go ahead,” you rearranged your legs, wincing mildly as you moved to sit cross legged, “charm me.”
A look of worry flashed over Astarion’s face when he saw you wince, but the concern was quickly overtaken by an all too self-satisfied grin. “Feeling it this morning, are we?”
You rolled your eyes. “I knew you’d be happy about this.”
“Positively delighted, my sweet.” He leaned forward and kissed you gently, bringing a hand up to your cheek. You brought your own hand up to lay against his. He pulled away and appraised your face smugly. “I was completely enamored by your performance last night.” You were about to open your mouth to say something, but Astarion interrupted. “Don’t even think about mentioning that you’re a bard and that of course you’re good at performing, or something like that.”
You closed your mouth. You were going to say something like that. Instead you said, “You were pretty good yourself.”
He brought his hands up to make air quotes. “I’ve ‘ruined you,’ from what I recall.”
You groaned. “I just said that to make you cum.”
“Whatever you need to tell yourself, my dear.” His face was still smug, but he motioned for you to come closer. You scooted forward and he lifted you slightly to sit on his lap. 
He leaned up and kissed you deeply, his tongue swiping your bottom lip for entrance. You moaned in response and opened your mouth for him. Though the rest of his body was cold, his mouth was warm and inviting, and you leaned in further to try and get closer. You wrapped your arms around his neck and tilted your head slightly to get a better angle. You’d been mildly distracted last night; had he always smelled this good?
When Astarion pulled back suddenly, you couldn’t help the whine that escaped at the loss. He hummed in satisfaction, and his voice was low and seductive when he spoke.
“Every part of your perfect body whispers temptations-”
You giggled. “What?”
“Shush dear, I’m charming you.” He cleared his throat, “-it’s as if the gods made you just to ruin me.”
“So now I’ve ruined you?” You raised your eyebrows teasingly.
“Wait, no-”
You leaned your forehead onto his and laughed. “And that one usually works?”
He blew out a puff of air. “You’re an unusual one, I’ll give you that.” 
You shrugged, pleased with yourself.
“But yes,” Astarion continued, “I’ve made plenty of previous lovers swoon with that particular line.”
“Show me what else you’ve got, then,” you challenged.
Astarion tilted his head in thought. “Let’s see… I can’t use the ‘cried from your lips’ line because I used that one last night…” You scoffed joyfully, mockingly scandalized that he’d already used a line on you. He met your eye and smirked. “How about this one: When I’m with you, I feel practically alive, yet I crave only to die again, with you.”
The sultry tone of his voice did send a pang of want through your body, reminding you that you were only wearing Astarion’s shirt and nothing else. You shifted uncomfortably. 
“How romantic,” you said, trying to keep your voice nonchalant. “I didn’t think you liked dying the first time.”
Astarion narrowed his eyes, sensing your deflection and smirked, looking down at where you sat on his lap. He rolled his hips, which made you inhale sharply. “I see that one did do something for you,” he leaned forward and kissed your neck. 
You exhaled slowly, “I blame that stupid sexy voice of yours.”
Astarion growled against your throat and you shivered, bringing your hands up to his back. 
“Astarion,” you sighed and he hummed in response, licking over the twin wounds he’d left the night before. You sat up a little straighter. “Wait.”
He immediately pulled back and looked at you with concern. “What is it?”
“I just thought of something,” you said.
Astarion raised his eyebrows and nodded, wanting you to continue.
“Can I borrow your fangs?”
“My-?” His tongue instinctively flicked over his teeth.
“Because I want to leave a lasting impression on you,” you tilted your head at him to show off the marks he’d left on your throat. You shimmied your shoulders a little for good measure. 
“I’m leaving,” Astarion made to get up with you still on his lap and you laughed loudly.
“No! No! I’m sorry! I’m sorry! I wanted to try a dumb line on you, too!” You threw your arms around his neck and hid your face in his shoulder. You felt him kiss your hair.
“You’re lucky I don’t travel with you for your personality,” he joked. 
“I’d say ‘I’m a lot of fun’ again but I think you’d actually stop talking to me.” You pulled back to look at him.
“And you’d be right.” He kissed you chastely and then adjusted you on his lap. You winced a little again and he looked genuinely sympathetic. “I might have a way to ease the pain from last night,” he said. “Do you trust me?”
You smiled at him. “Yes.”
He smiled back. “Good.” He positioned your arms over his shoulders. “Hang on, my love.” You crossed your arms where they hung behind him and waited to see what he would do. 
Without warning, you felt one of his cold fingers slide through your folds. You hissed at the sensation and looked at Astarion. 
“Supposedly, massaging the area can help,” he was trying to sound knowledgeable, but the look in his eyes was one full of lust. Then he tutted, looking down. “You could be wetter, darling.” His thumb began to circle your clit.
Your eyes rolled back at the sensation, and you leaned forward again to rest your forehead on his shoulder. 
“Do you want my cock again, love? You took me so well last night, I was so proud of you,” he’d moved his mouth next to your ear and was speaking with the same sultry tone that he had a minute ago. You whimpered at his praise and rolled your hips to get his thumb to press you harder. Astarion let out a low groan. “That’s it, you’re getting so wet for me, you’re so good.”
After a few more tight circles, you practically sobbed when you felt him take his thumb away from your clit.
“Shh, shh, I know,” he cooed, “but we want you to feel better, remember?”
You let out a frustrated sound. “I already was feeling better.”
Astarion chuckled. “Trust me, would you? Impatient.” His tone was nothing but fond.
His other fingers began massaging the area around your entrance. You winced and bit your lip. 
“Are you okay?” he asked.
“Fine,” you confirmed. “I assume this will get better?”
“That’s the idea,” he kissed your ear and you nodded against his shoulder. 
You rolled your hips, attempting to get friction where you needed it. 
“Just a little longer,” Astarion said, moving his fingers gently around your cunt.
You hummed an acknowledgement and kept rolling your hips, trying to combat this weird form of edging that was happening. 
Finally, Astarion ceased his massaging and brought his thumb back to your clit. You let out a long shuddering breath and squeezed your eyes tight, adjusting your hips to roll against his thigh. 
“There you go, my love,” Astarion said, voice still in your ear. “I’ll make you cum for behaving so well.”
You whined loudly as his thumb picked up the pace. You began rolling your hips at an equally fast pace. “More,” you whined, willing your climax to approach faster.
“Not right now, darling. Let’s give you a break there, shall we?” Astarion used his free hand to pet your hair. 
“But you asked if I wanted your cock again,” you whined.
“And while I’m pleased to hear that you’d like it again, let’s relax and get you off like this for now, okay?” 
You groaned but nodded, squeezing your eyes shut again and focusing on the pleasure Astarion was currently providing. “Harder,” you instructed.
Astarion pressed down harder on your clit with his thumb. He swept his index and middle finger through your folds, coating them in your slick. He quickly swapped those fingers with his thumb, changing the sensation by swapping one finger for two and adding more of your arousal to the mix. 
You keened and gripped his bicep. “Harder!” You instructed again, desperate and approaching the edge. You could feel the coil in your stomach preparing to let go.
Astarion pushed again and brought his lips to your ear once more. 
“I just thought of something, precious thing,” he murmured.
You blinked at him, your eyes unfocused and half lidded.
“More of a question, really,” he clarified.
You squeezed your eyes tight, nodding. You were on the precipice of your orgasm and could feel it fastly approaching. You slammed your hips against Astarion’s thigh as he continued to rub your clit brutally. 
“Do you believe in love at first bite?” He leaned forward and kissed your throat, then began to suck a new mark into the flesh there. Contrary to his pun, he wouldn’t drink from you without your expressed permission first.
It did, however, send you crashing over the edge. You moaned loudly, Astarion’s name tumbling repeatedly out of your mouth. The vision behind your eyelids was white and you reached out blindly to grip Astarion’s shoulders. His lips detached themselves from your throat and found your own. His tongue was immediately in your mouth, swallowing your moans and shouts of his name.
When you came down, you disconnected from the kiss and opened your eyes, a lopsided grin on your face. 
“Thank you,” you said. “I do feel better.”
Astarion smirked. “I knew you would.” He brought his fingers, still coated in your essence, up to his mouth and sucked them clean. You watched, mesmerized by the way his cheeks hollowed and his eyes fluttered shut. He pulled them out with a lewd pop. “Delicious.”
You felt your face flush, embarrassed by his display, despite just cumming in his lap. 
“You shouldn’t feel embarrassed about this,” Astarion said, reading your expression immediately. “What you should feel embarrassed about is the fact that you came because I told a joke.”
“I did not!” You protested.
“You absolutely did,” Astarion said. “And it was a particularly bad one, too.” He clicked his tongue. “You must feel so ashamed.”
You groaned. “I came because you started kissing my neck!”
Astarion raised his eyebrows, clearly not believing you. “It’s okay, darling, no one here was under the impression that you aren’t incredibly lame.” He gave you a pitying look, then kissed your nose and you laughed. He pulled back and looked at you fondly, a dopey half smile on his face. Then he looked up at the sky.
The periwinkle you’d awoken to was now vibrant shades of orange and pink. 
“Are you okay if I move you?” Astarion asked.
“Um… sure?” You weren’t sure why he was asking, and helped to move yourself off of him. You did feel a bit less sore thanks to his help. 
He stood up and stretched his arms over his head, then bent to pick up a rag to wipe off his pants. 
“Sorry,” you said.
Astarion shook his head. “Comes with the territory.” You were about to make a joke but he held up a finger and gave you a warning look. “Don’t.”
You held up your hands innocently. 
He tossed you the rag after and then your pants and underthings.
“Clean up,” he instructed, “then get dressed.”
You furrowed your brows, your stomach dropping suddenly. He didn’t expect you to leave right now, did he? He hadn’t fucked you last night, then brought you more pleasure this morning, only for him to send you back to camp like it hadn’t happened, right?
Astarion snorted. He was watching you as he slipped on his shoes. “Relax, darling, I see that face. I just want to show you something.” He held out a hand to help you up.
“Okay,” you smiled, soothed by the pleasant look on his face. “Do you want your shirt back?” You made to lift it over your head.
“Keep it for now, dear,” Astarion said. “I rather like that on you, truthfully.” The collar was slipping off your shoulder as you pulled on your pants, and you made no move to adjust it, opting not to put your bra back on yet.
“Do you want to wear my shirt?” you teased.
“Tempting, but I fear I’d look better in it than you do.”
“Excellent point, don’t do that.” You adjusted the ruffles on Astarion’s shirt and felt a light breeze on your cleavage through the lacey opening at the collar. 
“Gods, you’re beautiful,” he said. You looked up and caught Astarion staring at your chest.
You laughed as he cleared his throat, then gestured deeper into the woods with his head. “This way.” He held out a tentative hand and you took it eagerly, bringing the back of his palm up to your face to leave a gentle kiss. Astarion squeezed your hand slightly at the contact, and began heading further into the forest, away from camp. A pleasant silence hung between the two of you and you rubbed your thumb absently along the back of his hand.
It wasn’t long before the trees started to thin and you heard the sound of rushing water somewhere close by. You emerged from the trees to find a cliff overlooking a ravine below. On the other side of the ravine was more forest, and beyond that, you could faintly see the Sea of Swords. The sun peeked out over the horizon, bright reddish orange in the distance. Its glow was a welcome sight and you found yourself in awe of the view.
Astarion let go of your hand and sat, dangling his feet over the edge of the cliff. You hesitantly stepped forward and sat beside him, opting instead to sit with one knee up, the other leg crossed beneath it. Astarion sat back on his arms. The sun reflected off his skin in the most beautiful golden and magenta hues. His hair, somehow still perfect despite your night together, was being jostled lightly by the breeze. He’d closed his eyes and tipped his head up, basking. You couldn’t help watching him as you rested your cheek on your bent knee. 
He didn’t open his eyes when he said, “I try to come out here every morning.” 
You sat in silence, continuing to watch him as you prepared to listen to whatever he’d say next. 
“After two hundred years in darkness, you forget how lovely the sunrise is,” he said. “I don’t ever want to miss another.”
“I can’t even begin to imagine what that must have been like,” you said softly. 
Astarion hummed in acknowledgment and opened his eyes. “I’d catch glimpses while lurking around the city for too long before dawn, hopping from shadow to shadow until I made it back to Cazador’s manor.” His eyes didn’t waver from the sun in the distance. “But there were moments where I’d catch a glimpse of it over the Chionthar.” His tone became sardonic. “The promise of a new day emerging! Something that I would never get to participate in.” He sighed. “I’d linger as long as I could in those moments.” 
You nodded, picturing a hopeful Astarion hiding behind buildings and in alleys, trying to get a fleeting look at a phenomenon that occurred every day, one that you took for granted. Your heart ached for him. 
He continued. “I never quite told you what Cazador made his spawn do for him.”
You tried to recall what Astarion had said to you before. Only that he’d been made to go out into the city and bring back “the most beautiful souls” he could find. Then Cazador would make him either drink from a disgusting dead rat, or abuse him for refusing. The thought made you visibly shudder. 
“I know that you had to bring people back to-” you lowered your voice, as if saying his name might summon him, “-Cazador, against your will. And that he’d kill them.” 
Astarion nodded his head once, remorsefully. “I never told you how we lured them.”
You could see pain etched into his features. You reached out a hand and placed it on his shoulder. He flinched a bit at the contact, but settled when he looked over at you.
“You don’t have to tell me any of this right now,” you said. “A lot has changed in the past few hours and there’s no rush in sharing these things with me. I know how hard it was to talk about your past the first time.”
“It was necessary, though,” Astarion looked over at you, his expression determined. “You needed to know what we might be up against. And you might need to know this too.”
“If you want to tell me, then I’m happy to listen, but please don’t force yourself for my sake.”
Astarion released a puff of air from his nose. “You keep doing that.”
“Doing what?”
“Asking me what I want. Letting me choose.” 
You cocked your head sympathetically. “And I take it two hundred years as a slave hasn’t really afforded you any choice.”
“Correct,” he sighed. “As a spawn, your vampiric master has complete control over your body and your actions. Even in moments where I wanted to defy or fight back, I was powerless to do anything.” 
Your heart jumped into your throat. You hadn’t realized that was how it worked. Having no control over yourself or your actions sounded like a complete nightmare and you were glad that you’d hopefully never have to experience it. Knowing that that had been Astarion’s entire existence for the past two centuries made you sick to your stomach. 
“I’m sorry,” you said, just as you’d said the last few times he’d shared glimpses of his past.
Astarion’s eyes were closed once again as he inhaled deeply, then exhaled. He continued to bask in the rising sun for a few silent moments and you watched as it slowly rose higher into the sky. 
“That nightmare I had,” he said, his voice coming out quiet, “I’ve had it before.”
Again, you said nothing and waited for him to continue.
“I actually had the same one the night you let me drink your blood for the first time.”
“Oh, please don’t tell me that drinking my blood was some sort of revenge plot against me for haunting your nightmares.”
Astarion smiled a little. “No, it wasn’t about you. It was about Cazador.”
“You know, I’m really starting to dislike this guy,” you said, knowing how difficult this was for him and trying to keep his mood up with another little joke. 
“You and me both,” he sounded tired. “In the dream, I’m in the forest. Cazador appears and recites the rules of being his vampire spawn.” He held up his hand and recounted them on his fingers: “‘First, thou shalt not drink the blood of thinking creatures. Second, thou shall obey me in all things. Third, thou shalt not leave my side, unless directed. Fourth, thou shalt know that thou art mine.’” 
You listened patiently as Astarion recited each rule almost mechanically. You scrunched your nose with each passing instruction and rolled your eyes dramatically when Astarion finished.
“What a prick.”
He smiled again. “With an archaic speech pattern.”
“I was going to mention his archaic speech pattern.”
The smile faded slowly as Astarion returned to his thoughts. “The dream ends with Cazador telling me I’m his forever. That I can never escape.” 
You let the words hang in the air for a moment. “And yet, here you are.”
“Here I am,” he said humorlessly. He laid down fully on his back, the sun high enough to bathe him completely in its glow. He rested his arms behind his head and angled himself to look at you. “I realized, if I could walk in the sun, what other vampiric laws could I break?”
You looked down at him, admiring the light glinting off his bare chest. “So you decided to test your theory on me? I’m touched.” You held a hand to your chest, pretending to be deeply moved.
“In all honesty, I thought you were the least likely to kill me if I got caught.” He smirked at you. “And it would seem I was right.”
“I wouldn’t have let any of the others kill you,” you said firmly.
Astarion chuckled. “How sweet. My brave little protector.” He reached over to pinch your cheek.
You swatted him away. “Hey, who saved your ass from a bugbear yesterday?”
He shrugged. “I would have been fine.”
You leaned forward and shoved him lightly, making him laugh and throw his arm forward as a shield. 
When his laughter died down, his face grew a touch more serious again. “When you so graciously assaulted me this morning, he’d just finished telling me rule number three; that I can’t leave him unless he tells me to.”
You thought for a moment. “Which begs the question,” Astarion looked over at you expectantly, “how did you end up out here? From what I recall, the sun was still out when the nautiloid reached the Gate. You didn’t have the tadpole yet, so how’d you escape?”
“I wouldn’t say it was much of an escape.” His eyes shifted up to the sky, his expression thoughtful. “I was looking for new victims for Cazador. It was dusk and I had just been given the order to go out and hunt. I was weaving through shadows, avoiding the setting sun, but there’s only so many places one can hide from a giant tentacle that won’t burn you to a crisp. One of the tentacles caught me when I attempted to flee down an alleyway. A complete accident.”
“If it helps, I tripped while running away.”
“Of course you did.” He sighed. “Figures it would take an alien invasion to finally free me from his clutches. Not some,” he waved his hands in the air, gesturing to nothing in particular, “heroic figure sent by the gods to save me and smite that horrible man down to somewhere further and more vile than the Nine Hells.” His hands fell ungracefully to his sides.
He wasn’t wrong. How could any god worth their salt claim to be holier than thou when such suffering was occuring right under their noses? And you were pretty sure, based on tales you’d heard of Mystra and Shar from Gale and Shadowheart, that the gods hadn’t planned for the nautiloids or the rise of the Absolute. Yet if it weren’t for any of that, Astarion would still be trapped in Baldur’s Gate and your adventure thus far would have looked very different.
“If I’d known, I would have done something,” you said, knowing it was more complicated than that, but still wanting to help somehow. 
“Darling, if I’d met you in Baldur’s Gate, I would not have hesitated to take you to Cazador.”
That hurt. 
You said as much. “Ouch.”
“Well,” he sounded angry, though he directed it up towards the sky and not at you, “I wouldn’t have had a choice! Sure, it would have been a little novel, given how inexperienced you are, but regardless, I would have handed you off to him as soon as I’d made you finish.”
Ah. So that was how he lured people. It made sense, now that you put the pieces together; Astarion was so experienced because he had to be. Of course unsuspecting victims would fall prey to the allure of an eternally beautiful vampire, especially the one laying next to you. Of course the promise of pleasure from someone that sexy would be the obvious thing to agree to. It was a wonder your paths had never crossed before the nautiloid. 
“Once,” Astarion broke the silence that had fallen between you, his tone distant, “in the first decade of my slavery, I found a darling boy who I couldn’t bear to bring back to him.” He finally looked over at you, his eyes full of sadness. “So I ran, instead of hurting that sweet man.”
You reached for his hand, then thought better of it. All his snide “don’t touch me’s” on the road now held a new, terrible weight.
“After Cazador caught me, the bastard sealed me, starving, inside a dusty tomb, all on my own, for an entire year. A year of silence”
A hand flew to your mouth. “Astarion…” you felt your eyes begin to prick with tears and did your best to will them away, fearing that they might make Astarion stop sharing.
He went on. “Months of scratching my hands raw, trying to carve my way out, more months of not moving at all. Months wishing only for death.” He took a deep breath, then blew it out shakily. “So no, I wouldn’t have hesitated, had we crossed paths.”
You opened and closed your mouth several times, attempting to find words that could possibly compose an appropriate response to the horrors you currently refused to picture. “I have no words,” is what you finally settled on, followed by an, “I’m sorry.”
“Nothing can make up for that,” he said quietly. “Not even Cazador’s death.” He paused. “Well, it would help a little, but the coward deserves a fate worse than death.”
“Can I hug you?” you blurted, unable to stop yourself.
Astarion blinked a few times, then sat up. “What?”
“I just… you’ve been through such hell and I want to hug you, but I don’t want to touch you without your permission.”
He looked you up and down and saw the sincerity evident on your face. “I… suppose.” He pulled his legs up from where they were still dangling above the ravine and turned to face you head on. 
“Thank you,” you said, still attempting to keep your tears at bay.
You leaned forward and weaved your arms beneath Astarion’s, hooking your arms up and placing your hands on his shoulder blades. You settled your face between his neck and shoulder and could feel that his arms were frozen rigidly in place in front of him. You took a shaky breath and stayed still, allowing Astarion to move at his own pace. 
His arms finally settled around you and he bent his head so his cheek rested against your hair. 
The two of you stayed like that for a while, relishing in the other’s closeness. You moved your hands back and forth across his back absently. When you caught yourself, you pulled back to look at him and asked, “Is it okay that I’m touching your back?”
Astarion chuckled softly. “Yes, my dear. It’s rather nice, actually.”
You smiled and nuzzled your nose into the crook of his neck. Seriously, did he always smell this good?
Despite the pleasant distraction, something was nagging at your thoughts.
“Can I ask you something?” you murmured into his skin.
Astarion sighed dramatically. “If it has anything to do with my fangs, I’ll rip your throat out.”
You snickered to yourself. “No, not another dumb joke, I promise.”
“Then by all means.”
You pulled back once more to look at him in the face. His eyes widened when he saw your nervous expression. You avoided holding his gaze, feeling a little small. 
“Do you… want to be with me?”
Astarion looked taken aback. “What?”
“I mean… well…” You were having trouble sorting through your thoughts. Who were you to make this moment about yourself when Astarion had just been so open with you? And why couldn’t you trust him in what he had told you last night? Still, you had to know. You’d made it clear how much you cared for him and how much sleeping with him had meant to you. 
Given his past experiences, it made sense why he’d sleep with you, but you wanted to hear him say it. If this was all some ploy to manipulate you into doing what he wanted, even without Cazador’s instruction, you needed to know now. 
“Was I… just another conquest?” you asked, your tears reemerging. “Because if that’s the case, then I think we should end whatever this is.”
Astarion’s face was now inches away from yours. He moved a hand from your back and shifted it up to wipe a wayward tear that had escaped. He said your name softly.
“No, my sweet,” his other hand started rubbing soothing circles into your back. He pulled back a little. “Well, yes.”
You scoffed, another tear rolling down your cheek. 
Astarion was quick to correct. “No, no! I mean, at first, yes, it was my plan to seduce you and sleep with you.”
You let out a small whimpering noise and he tried to catch your eye. You kept your gaze glued on something in the distance, unseeing.
Astarion cleared his throat. “You- You’re valuable; someone willing to feed me, someone who advocated for me to stay with you all, even though you knew vampires were dangerous, someone who would protect me in battle, even if it meant sacrificing something important to you.”
Try as he might to get your attention back on him, your face remained blank as you stared into the distance.
“I wanted your continued protection.” He shrugged. “Habits from two hundred years of charming people kicked in and I thought I could secure that with sex.”
That got you to look at him, a sour expression on your face. “Have you met me?”
Astarion chuckled. “Yes, I have. And that’s what threw me for such a loop.”
You humphed.
“When I realized you’d be more of a challenge, I modified my plan.”
“I don’t love the direction this is headed.”
“Stay with me, darling” he said, “I promise I’m going somewhere with this.”
You exhaled and nodded for him to continue. 
“I did want to give you a good first experience, that much was true, but I will admit that I was still planning on using you.”
You narrowed your eyes. “You realize how bad this sounds, right?”
“Will you-” he sighed. “Let me finish, damn you,” he brought his forehead to yours briefly, then pulled back. “So imagine how stupid I felt when I realized I genuinely felt something for you.”
That made you smile softly. 
He groaned. “And yes, it is because I find you to be… a lot of fun.” The last phrase sounded like it hurt coming out. 
Your soft smile transformed into one of smug satisfaction. “And when did you come to this conclusion?”
“Well first of all, look at you.” He smiled slyly and you playfully pushed his face away from yours, just as you had last night. After a moment, Astarion looked up, as if searching through his thoughts. “I suppose I’ve always found you to be amusing. You were so easy to fool in the beginning. I mean, the very first day we met, you thought I had one of those brain things cornered.”
“I had no reason not to believe you! And then you held a knife to my throat!” “Ah, memories,” he sighed wistfully. “But then we started traveling together, and I don’t think I’ve ever laughed more. Killing those goblins outside the Grove, fooling those trolls into working for us, taking out those Paladins of Tyr… you always had a sarcastic comment to contend with my sarcastic comments. Which is saying something.”
You snorted. “As if I wouldn’t have something to say.”
Astarion nodded. “You do talk a lot.” 
You chuckled softly, feeling better. Your arms were still wrapped around Astarion.
“It was when I kissed you.” His tone was thoughtful.
“Hmm?”
“When I really kissed you for the first time, there was something different about it.” His eyes flicked down to your lips momentarily. “Suddenly everything we’d been through came rushing back to my mind and there was this… pleasure I hadn’t felt. In an awfully long time.”
You smiled like a dope, bringing your forehead to his.
“I realized you weren’t going anywhere. And that you genuinely cared about what I thought and what I wanted.” He looked at you almost shyly. “No one in the past two hundred years has stayed.” Astarion pulled back and his inflection became flamboyant and playful: “Not that they had much of a choice, but it was a somewhat shocking revelation.” His tone then returned to one of sincerity: “And no one has cared for me as you have.”
You looked away, embarrassed by the kind words.“What can I say, I’m incredible.”
Astarion blew out a cool puff of air that tickled your face. “Annoyingly, you are.”
You looked back at him and smirked. “For me, it was when you asked me how I’d want to die.”
Astarion snorted. “Pardon?”
“When you asked me how I wanted to die on one of our first nights at camp. I genuinely had the thought, ‘Now here’s a guy who knows how to have a good time.’”
Astarion laughed brightly. You mirrored his grin.
“You said you wanted to be decapitated.” 
“How romantic of me,” he said, raising a seductive eyebrow. 
“Well it did spark the crush I’ve been harboring this whole time,” you felt your face heat up at the admission. “That, and your stupid beautiful face.”
Astarion sniffed mockingly. “Thank you, not enough people mention that.” Then he looked at you fondly. “But that long, eh? How adorable.” He rubbed his nose against yours teasingly. “And here you thought nothing would come of it.”
“Nothing usually does!” you exclaimed.
He laughed and leaned forward to kiss you once. “Not so loud.”
You lifted an eyebrow and gestured to the empty landscape around you. Astarion shrugged. You lowered your voice despite the lack of other people to bother.
“I am glad something came of it this time.” You settled your forehead onto his shoulder.
“As am I, my love,” he kissed your hair. “Though I have something else to admit.”
You pulled back and looked at him curiously.
Out of nowhere, he presented you with a knife.
“I did have a knife.”
You scoffed incredulously and whacked his arm. “I KNEW YOU HAD A KNIFE, YOU BASTARD!” You laughed loudly and pushed him backwards. 
He fell back onto his arms, laughing with you as you crawled on top and kissed him deeply. 
“Careful darling,” he murmured against your lips, “don’t move.”
You paused your movements, your lips still pressed firmly against his own. Astarion turned his head slightly to look over to his left at the treeline you’d emerged from not too long ago. You pressed a kiss to the side of his mouth and felt him grin. Then you felt his right arm come up and jerk slightly, followed by a “THUNK” sound off to your right. 
You waited a moment before you asked, “Can I move?” Your mouth was smushed against his face and your voice came out muffled.
He chuckled. “Yes, you can move now.” 
You sat up and looked to your right, the knife Astarion had pulled was now wedged deeply into the trunk of a nearby tree. You raised your eyebrows at him.
He stretched out like a cat in a sunbeam, his voice straining as he went. “Impressed?”
“Honestly? Yes.” You leaned back down and kissed him again. 
He hummed and his mouth moved against yours at a leisurely pace, his hands coming up to tangle in your hair. You kissed down his jaw and throat before coming to his collarbone and stopping.
“You’re sure you don’t want to fuck me again?” Your words came out a little shy and Astarion laughed. 
He twirled the ends of your hair around his finger. “Delicious as you were, my sweet, I think I’d prefer to take my time with you.” 
You pursed your lips, disappointed. 
“That’s not to say I don’t want to, darling, but…” His fingers stopped twirling your hair as he thought. “Like you said earlier, so much has changed in the last few hours. I’ve only just discovered that I can sleep with somebody because I actually want to.” His hand moved from your hair to your cheek. “I think I need some time to adjust to that.”
You nodded and bent to kiss him. “I’ll wait as long as you need me to.”
He smiled up at you. “Thank you.”
You spent a few moments just looking at him, admiring how his eyes sparkled in the sun like rubies. You sighed noticeably. 
“What is it, love?”
You shook your head. “It’s nothing.”
“Darling…” He raised his eyebrows at you. 
“No, it’s inappropriate right now.” You looked away.
You felt his hand in your hair, and his voice was conspiratory, “I love when you talk dirty.”
You sighed again and looked him in the eye. “One of these days, when you’re ready, I’m going to look into your gorgeous eyes as I make you come.”
Astarion sputtered out a surprised laugh. “Easy there, lover,” he gave you a sultry look, “I may just take you up on that.”
You sat up and spread your hands over his chest. “I want to make you feel good, too.”
He brought both hands up to his face and groaned loudly before dragging them back down his face and looking at you. “Come lay in the sun with me, will you?”
You pouted but rolled off of him and curled into his side. 
“There now,” he said, arching his chest upwards towards the sky where the sun had now risen for the day, “isn’t this nice?”
You inhaled deeply, taking in the scent of the trees and the sounds of the ravine below. You exhaled and closed your eyes, warmed by the sun and comforted by the presence of Astarion beside you. He himself had his eyes closed and looked peacefully content. You nuzzled further into his side, enjoying how his cool skin contrasted with the warmth coming from above.
Before you could even register that you were still tired from your early wakeup call this morning, you’d drifted back into a comfortable sleep.
~~~~~
You were awoken some time later by a lick to the face. 
You shut your eyes tighter and groaned. “Gross, Astarion, I’m trying to sleep.” You threw an arm over your eyes, the sun now directly overhead. 
“Did you find them, boy?” A voice shouted from the distance.
Your eyes shot open and found Scratch panting above you, wagging his tail excitedly. 
You sat up quickly and immediately leaned over to shake Astarion who appeared to be trancing soundly. 
“Astarion,” you shook him anxiously. 
He scowled, his eyes still closed. He groaned lowly.
“Astarion, my dear, my sweet, my beloved,” you shook him harder and his eyes opened immediately. He sat up, fast as lightning.
“What’s happening? Where’s my knife?” He looked around frantically until his eyes landed on you. “Ah,” he said, calming, “déjà vu.” 
“They’re coming,” you hissed.
“Who?” Astarion narrowed his eyes, thoughts still foggy from his trance. 
“No FUCKING way!” Came Karlach’s voice from the treeline. 
You looked over and found her with an elated grin on her face and her hands on her knees. She started laughing loudly and you hid your face in your hands. 
“You guys did NOT,” she wheezed. 
“Hello Karlach,” Astarion’s voice sounded nonchalant beside you. “What brings you out to ruin our beauty sleep?” 
“Did you find them?” Shadowheart soon emerged from the forest and stopped in her tracks. She surveyed the area and pinched the bridge of her nose. “Astarion, tell me you didn’t.”
“Did what, darling?” He sounded smug and you looked over at him. His expression matched his tone. “You’ll have to be more specific.” He rested his chin on your shoulder.
“I fucking knew this would happen,” Karlach said, coming down from her laughing fit. “Soldier’s had her eye on you for a while now, Fangs.”
“Karlach!” You whisper-shouted.
“Oh, I’m aware,” you felt Astarion turn his head to look at you. 
Suddenly Gale, Lae’zel, and Wyll joined the fray. Scratch ran to them and happily weaved between them as they emerged. 
“We heard a commotion, did you find them?” Gale halted when he saw you and Astarion sitting together on the ground, him shirtless, you wearing his shirt. “No,” he said, shaking his head.
“Yes,” Astarion said, tilting his head against yours. You gave him a dirty look. 
“Chk! Was that filthy nest of our blankets your doing?” Lae’zel asked, cradling her greatsword proudly. 
You groaned and hid your face in your hands again. 
“It would appear so,” Wyll confirmed awkwardly. 
“You vampires have a disgusting way of mating if that nest was any indication,” Lae’zel narrowed her eyes and lifted her nose in the air judgmentally. “Far too soft.”
Astarion scoffed and pulled back from you. “I’ll have you know that vampires mate in the most satisfying- well, we don’t mate, necessarily, we’re not dogs, but we, well at least I, am always an exemplary lover.”
Shadowheart ignored him and walked forward, crouching down and resting a hand on your shoulder. You looked at her. “Are you okay?”
“What?” you laughed in disbelief. “Yes, I’m fine.”
“He didn’t… coerce you into something, did he?”
“Excuse me?” Astarion sounded insulted. “I always ask permission first, darling.”
“Your charms can be quite overwhelming at times, Astarion,” Gale said. 
“And wouldn’t you like having my charms turned on you, wizard,” Astarion sneered. 
“Well, let’s not jump to any conclusions,” Wyll held up his hands, gesturing for the others to relax.
“Everyone!” You raised your voice. All eyes settled on you. “Nothing happened between us that I didn’t expressly and happily agree to.”
Karlach started chuckling again. “Good for you, Soldier.”
“Thank you, Karlach,” said Astarion. 
You narrowed your eyes at him. 
He shrugged. “What?”
You groaned and stood up, wiping grass and forest debris off your clothes. You adjusted Astarion’s shirt on your shoulders, making sure you weren’t showing off too much to your companions. 
“Is there a reason you all came out here? Or was it just to mortify me? Because mission accomplished!”
“It’s midday,” informed Wyll. “We grew worried when the two of you seemingly vanished and didn’t return.”
“Halsin and the tieflings are coming to camp tonight to celebrate our victory against the goblins,” Shadowheart crossed her arms. 
“Yes, and it wouldn’t be a great look if our leader and the gangly one were missing,” Gale said.
“Gangly?!” Astarion exclaimed, very clearly not gangly. 
“You’re- okay, well, I hadn’t seen you shirtless before now,” Gale amended. 
“Like what you see?” Astarion teased. 
“Astarion,” you scolded. 
He sighed and got up, wrapping an arm around you and resting a hand on your hip. 
You went red as you watched your companions track his hand. 
“Listen, people,” Astarion said, sounding serious. 
You saw your companions’ eyes shift to the vampire. 
“Don’t give her a hard time. This was my doing.” Shadowheart was about to say something but Astarion raised his voice a bit. “While yes, she gave permission in everything that we did, this wouldn’t have happened if I hadn’t suggested it in the first place.”
“I could have suggested something much better, surely,” Lae’zel huffed.
“I mean, did you-?” Karlach thrust her hips in the air with her fists at her sides.
“Oh my gods,” you groaned.
“I don’t kiss and tell, darling,” Astarion said, squeezing your hip slightly. 
Karlach smirked smugly and winked at you both. 
You shook your head and looked up, silently begging any god that was listening to kill you and to do it quickly. 
“We should get back to camp,” Wyll suggested diplomatically. “Let these two collect themselves.” 
“So what does this mean?” Shadowheart asked, ignoring Wyll. 
“Shadowheart,” Wyll warned but she waved him off.
“What do you mean?” You asked.
“Are you only going to sleep with the pathetic vampire moving forward?” Lae’zel stated bluntly.
You and Astarion looked at each other. You saw the slightest flash of uncertainty in his eyes and smiled. “If he’ll let me,” you said. 
A small smile appeared on his face in return.
Lae’zel groaned. “K'chakhi. Your loss.” She turned and walked back into the forest, slinging her greatsword over her back.
You bit your lip, feeling guilty about Lae’zel’s feelings, but Karlach soon slid into your vision. “Congrats, you crazy kids,” she laughed and pretended to punch your arm, then followed on Lae’zel’s heels, Scratch bounding close behind her.
Gale walked over, his face stoic. He stood in front of Astarion and held out his hand. 
Astarion scowled. “What is this, do you want some sort of handout?” 
“I want to shake your hand, you buffoon,” Gale sounded frustrated. 
“Gale…” you said sorrowfully. 
“No no, think nothing of it,” he waved you off. “The right man won out in the end.”
Astarion took his hand and shook it. “Better luck next time,” he jeered. 
“Astarion,” you scolded again. “You both know I’m not something to win, right?”
“Of course you’re not,” Gale nodded. “Apologies, I misspoke. I’ll see you both at camp. Lunch is bread and cheese to save room for tonight’s festivities.” He stiffly turned and walked back towards the trees. Wyll gave him a sympathetic look, then caught your eye. He nodded somewhat sadly and followed after Gale. 
“Well that certainly doesn’t feel good,” you said, holding a hand to your chest and breathing deeply.
“Not quite finished yet, love,” Astarion nodded over towards Shadowheart who lingered nearby. 
She approached slowly, holding her hands behind her back. Astarion released your hip and moved away, sensing what Shadowheart aimed to do. You looked at him curiously, but your attention was drawn back to Shadowheart as she threw her arms around your neck. 
“You’re happy?” She asked softly.
“Shadowheart…” you smiled into her hair. “Yes, I’m happy. Thank you.”
She pulled back to look at you in the eyes, double checking your expression. When she saw that you were genuine, she nodded. She cleared her throat and looked over at Astarion. 
She pointed an accusatory finger at him. “Hurt her, and you will never know a happy day again.”
Astarion held up his hands defensively. “I won’t-”
“You have never known the pain of Lady Shar’s wrath, and you’d be smart to keep it that way, so help me gods, Astarion.”
“I got it,” he said flatly. 
“Our Lady of Loss would not hesitate to strike you where you stand-”
“I think he gets it,” you said, placing a hand on her shoulder. “Thank you, Shadowheart.”
Shadowheart narrowed her eyes at Astarion before she looked back at you. “I’ll see you at camp. Don’t dally.” She looked pointedly at Astarion who shrugged helplessly. 
When she headed back into the forest, you and Astarion were finally alone. 
You let out a heavy sigh.
“That was a lot,” Astarion joined you at your side.
“Wait, did you know those people?” you smirked at him.
“Vaguely,” he smirked back and caught you in a kiss. “At least I don’t have to hold back from doing that at camp now.” He held you close in his arms.
You sighed again and laid your head on his shoulder. “You were right. I didn’t realize so many of them felt something for me.”
“That seems to be because you block out the advances of others.”
You shoved him playfully. “How dare you turn my pitiful backstory against me.”
He smiled and held out his hand. “Come on, let’s go dismantle that ‘disgusting’ nest.” He did his best to impersonate Lae’zel on “disgusting.” 
It made you laugh. “Okay.”
You took his hand and let him lead you through the trees back to the blankets and pillows that you’d spent the night on. 
When you arrived, you picked up your shirt and bra, feeling mild embarrassment that the others had probably seen them and drawn (correct) conclusions. You removed Astarion’s shirt and threw it back at him, hitting him in the face and quickly covered your chest with your forearm. 
Astarion laughed as his shirt fell into his awaiting hands. “Darling, you don’t have to hide from me,” he narrowed his eyes seductively. “I’ve already seen it all.” He tossed the shirt aside and made his way over to you.
“Feels different in the light of day,” you admitted self-consciously. “Worse, I guess.”
“Now, now,” he said, gently pulling your arm away from your chest, “let me see you in the daylight.” You allowed him to move your arm but didn’t look at him. “Lovely,” he breathed, and kissed you hard. 
You inhaled in surprise, but immediately gave in and slipped your tongue into his mouth and your arms over his shoulders. His hand came up and began massaging your left breast, his icy touch sending a shock wave through you and making you moan. 
Instantly, you pulled away and took a step back. “Careful,” you said as Astarion stared at you wide-eyed, his hand frozen in the air where he’d been palming your breast, “I thought you wanted to take things slow?”
He made a sound somewhere between a groan and a dry heave. “Stop being so nice to me,” he avoided your gaze. “It makes me want to… be nice back.”
“Gods forbid,” you laughed, and bent to pick up your bra which had fallen back amongst the pillows. 
All of a sudden, you found yourself face down in the blankets, the wind knocked out of you and Astarion’s body weight pressed firmly on top of you.
“Astarion,” you wheezed, “what are you doing?”
His voice was sultry in your ear, “If you’ll remember, I said I wanted to take my time with you.”
Sexy as that was, you couldn’t breathe. You reached behind yourself and smacked Astarion’s back with your palm. “Living creatures need to breathe, idiot!”
“Oh,” he realized his error and rolled off of you. You had no time to adjust yourself before he flipped you over and hovered above you on his hands and knees. 
You blew some hair out of your face, irritated. “Did you just tackle me like I was some sort of prey?”
“My dear, I would never,” he bowed his head and kissed your neck.
“And yet I find myself on the ground, even though I didn’t put myself here,” you tangled your hands in his hair, your voice wobbly. 
“You’ve always been rather clumsy,” he murmured teasingly. 
You took a deep breath and pushed him away. His lips were still puckered, making you giggle. “Shadowheart told us not to dally,” you reminded him. “And she threatened to kill you, what? Three times?”
“You forget that I’m already dead,” he smiled. “What’s another little death?” He raised his eyebrows suggestively.
You snorted. “Bad.”
“I thought that was rather clever, actually.”
You rolled your eyes affectionately. “We should really head back.”
Astarion whined and hung his head. “Let me have you again, woman!”
“But you said-”
“I know what I said!” He lifted his head and looked you in the eye. “And while I appreciate your concern, right now, I very much want to be inside of you again.”
You smiled cautiously. “Are you sure?”
He rolled his eyes and kissed you, lowering his body to roll his hips against yours and making his erection very obviously. You jolted at the unexpected sensation and he pulled back.
“Unless this is too much for you,” he searched your face for hesitancy. “You’re probably still sore and we don’t have to rush anything-”
You gripped the back of his head and tightened your fist into his curls. “Please,” you whispered, “fuck me again.”
A wicked grin bloomed on Astarion’s face and he kissed you passionately, rolling his hips against yours for friction. You moaned into his mouth, but he broke the kiss after only a few moments. “Like I said, love, I want to take my time with you.”
He rose up onto his knees and began untying the laces of your pants. You watched him intently and bit your lip as he removed them fully from your legs. He made quick work of his own and crawled back on top of you. His thumb hooked under your panties and his eyes met yours. You nodded and he pulled them down gently and discarded them close by. He then laid beside you, his eyes heavy with lust.
“Come here, precious thing,” he purred and you inched yourself closer to him. “Turn around,” he instructed. You gave him a confused half smile but did what he asked. He reached forward and pulled your hips back, causing you to feel his still-clothed cock against your ass.
“What are you doing?” you asked nervously. 
Astarion chuckled. “Not that, fear not.” He kissed your shoulder as he slid his left arm under you and settled his hand on your lower stomach. A chill ran through you as he nuzzled his head onto your shoulder. “Fair warning,” you could hear the mischief in his voice as his right hand made itself known in front of your face. He wiggled his fingers in a delicate wave, then brought it down between your thighs. 
A gasp escaped your throat when you felt his fingers swipe through your folds.
Astarion tilted his head and kissed your throat. “So wet already, darling.”
“You’re handsome,” you said by way of explanation.
He hummed against your shoulder and began to rub your clit. A shuddering breath left your mouth and your eyes fluttered shut. Astarion paused for a moment to lift your leg and hike it back over his. “This will feel good,” he said against your skin and dragged his fingers through your folds again before inserting a digit into your cunt. 
You threw your head back in surprised pleasure, which made Astarion turn and nip at your ear. He began pumping and curling his finger slowly inside of you. Your breath caught when his thumb resumed its spot on your clit and whined when his finger inside of you hit a particularly sensitive spot. He adjusted his angle to hit it repeatedly. 
“Astarion,” you moaned, your head clouded with nothing but ecstasy. 
“Yes, my sweet, you’re gripping me so tight,” his voice was sensual in your ear. “Do you think you can take a little more?”
You nodded, your eyes shut tight. 
“Words, darling.”
“Another…” you said breathily.
“Another what?”
Your voice was sing-songy. “Astarion, if you don’t put another finger in me right now, I’m leaving you.”
He laughed loudly before moving his mouth close to your ear again. “You like me too much.” Then he leaned up a little to catch your eye, his finger still pumping between your thighs. “Right?”
You smiled sympathetically, seeing your words had spooked him a little. You reached a hand up to cup his cheek. “I’m not going anywhere,” you clarified. “But I might kill you.”
“Got it,” Astarion dragged his index finger through your folds, then carefully added it to your cunt alongside his middle finger. 
You exhaled, moving your hand down from his cheek to his hand resting on your stomach. You laced your fingers together and squeezed when he hit a particularly good spot, getting you to moan out an, “Oh, gods.”
“Like that?” He asked cockily, reaching and curling to hit the spot again. 
“Yes, my love,” you sighed, grinning upwards with your eyes closed. 
Behind you, you felt Astarion’s cock twitch.
Your eyes opened and you looked back at him. 
He smiled back at you sheepishly. “It does that sometimes, darling. When something is particularly arousing.”
Your breaths were coming out short and keeping in time with the pumping of his fingers. “Was it… ‘my love?’”
Astarion let out a low moan and hid his face in your shoulder before reemerging and nodding. “Coming from you while you’re in the throes of passion with me is really… something.”
You laughed between whimpers. “My… loooooove,” you sang, squeezing his hand again. “Your fingers feel heavenly, my looooove.”
“Fuck this,” Astarion said, pulling his fingers out of you unceremoniously and curling you forward with his body so he could shimmy out of his underwear. 
“What are you doing,” you winced and whined childishly, “I was so close!”
“Unfortunately, darling, if I’m not inside you within a matter of seconds, I’m going to lose it completely.”
“Wouldn’t want that,” you said, half dazed and still coming down from your almost climax. 
You felt his hand bump your ass as he pumped his cock and you instantly went stiff. “You’re not going to…?”
Astarion let out a breathy laugh. “Oh, my sweet, you’re not nearly ready for something like that yet.”
A relieved sigh escaped you. 
“We could always work our way up-”
“No, that’s okay,” you said quickly. 
“There’s nothing wrong with-”
“No, of course not-”
“But we can-”
“Let’s not talk about this now,” you patted Astarion’s cheek.
“Understood,” he nodded and resumed pumping his cock. “Hook your leg back over mine, darling.” When you followed his instruction, he kissed your shoulder once more. You felt the head of his cock glide through your folds until it prodded at your entrance and you let out a shaky exhale. “Don’t be scared,” he muttered, squeezing your hand. “Are you ready?”
You inhaled. “Yes.”
Just as he had last night, Astarion was slow to enter you. This time you heard him whimpering with his mouth so close to your ear. 
“Fuck,” he murmured, dragging his fangs from your shoulder to your neck, “still so tight.”
“Obviously,” you said, squeezing your eyes shut, but not feeling nearly as uncomfortable as you had the first time he’d entered you. You let out a satisfied exhale when his hips bumped your ass. 
“Let me know what I can move,” Astarion said against your skin, his words barely recognizable. 
“You can move,” you said almost immediately, reaching a hand up behind you and twisting it into Astarion’s hair. You moved it over a little to play with the tip of his ear.
He let out a loud groan and snapped his hips forward, probably with more force than he meant to. “Apologies,” he whispered, “that felt heavenly.”
“Keep going, my love,” you encouraged and he caught your eye with a seductive smile. 
He continued to pump his cock into your dripping hole and brought his right hand down to your clit. He licked a stripe from your neck up to your ear. “You know, I really did intend to take my time with you just now,” he spoke lowly from the back of his throat. As if to illustrate his point, he slowed his hips to take long, languid strokes out, and then moved back into you at an equally slow pace. His thumb on your clit slowed as he disconnected his left hand from yours and brought it up to fondle your breast. He kissed up your shoulder to your neck sloppily and sucked on the fading bite marks from last night. 
You moaned loudly, hooking your foot around his calf and tightening your fist in his hair. “We’d really be dallying, then,” you commented.
He made a frustrated noise. “Don’t even allude to the cleric right now,” he pulled away from your neck. “Unless it’s to tell me I’m a much better lover than her.” He snapped his hips into you, hard. 
“I don’t have much of a reference, genius,” you responded breathlessly. 
“Right,” he said, and picked up speed at your clit. His mouth returned to sucking on your throat. 
“Oohhh,” you sighed. You let out a gasp when Astarion’s left hand pinched your nipple.
“You feel wonderful, my darling,” spit connected him to your neck.
“So do you,” you brought your hand up to cover Astarion’s that was kneading your breast. “You can bite me, if you want.”
He groaned loudly and bumped his nose against your jaw. “Well,” he said between thrusts, “if you insist.” 
He kissed your throat before biting down, his hips instantly picking up speed. 
The ice that shot into your veins was a shock as always, but melted into a fuzzy pleasure that had your eyes drooping in ecstasy. 
Astarion took long pulls of your blood as he continued thrusting, circling your clit, and needing your breast. How he was keeping track of everything at once was beyond you in this pleasant, foggy state. 
“Darling,” he pulled away suddenly, swallowing loudly and seemingly out of breath. “May I taste you as you come?”
Your tongue lolled to the side, but his voice snapped you out of it. You nodded up at him. “Yes, please.”
“What do you need?” He licked the wounds on your neck. 
“As much as I’m enjoying you taking your time,” you said, “harder and faster.”
“Easy,” a cocky grin graced his face as a drop of your blood dripped down his chin. 
His hips picked up a brutal pace that nearly had you reaching your peak, and he pressed further onto your clit, his tight circles picking up speed as well. 
“Oh, Astarion,” you moaned loudly, reaching back again to grip his hair.
“Come for me, dearest,” he spoke softly against your throat, but loud enough that you could hear, “I want to hear you sing again. I want to taste how sweet your blood is when I make you cum on my cock.” He continued leaving sloppy kisses against your neck.
“I’m close,” you confirmed, your eyes shut tight and your body tensing. 
“Go ahead, love, I’ve got you,” his hard thrusts were becoming uneven, but ever the professional, his voice remained mostly even. “You’re so tight and warm, thank you for letting me taste you.” He kissed your mouth. “Darling.” Another kiss. “Beloved.” One more. “Mine.”
You cried out as you fell over the edge, your cunt squeezing his cock repeatedly, only to cry out again as you felt Astarion’s fangs enter your neck once more. 
“Astarion!” You shouted, squeezing his hand and pulling his hair and wrapping your shaking leg around his. Almost simultaneously, you felt Astarion spill inside you as he moaned your name loudly into your neck, his hips pulsing clumsily against you. 
The sensation of him drawing your blood was still pleasantly fuzzy, but you could feel yourself becoming light headed. You tapped his arm twice, your signal for him to stop, and he pulled away, leaning his forehead against your temple and breathing heavily. 
“Still cumming,” he groaned and clenched his teeth, his hips faltering in their rhythm. 
After another moment, his body finally relaxed and he pulled you closer into his chest, catching his breath. “That was… amazing,” he sighed happily, leaning forward to lick the remaining blood from your neck. “If I knew blood could taste that good-” His voice trailed off. “Well, I’m sure I’d do something about it if I could.” He seemed pleased with his own answer and hummed contentedly behind you.
“I’m glad it was to your liking,” you said, looking back at him with a smile. He bent forward and kissed you happily. “I’m like a fine vintage,” you teased.
Astarion pursed his lips. “You’re far from vintage, darling, you’ll have to work on your wine related japes.” 
You laughed and a comfortable silence fell between you. Astarion rested both of his hands on your stomach. Which growled suddenly.
“What’s that like?” He teased, licking a wayward drop of blood from the side of his mouth. 
Your body tensed. “Oh gods, bread and cheese!”
Astarion blinked at you. “Are those some sort of new deities I’m not aware of, or-?”
“No, that’s what Gale said we’re having for lunch.”
“And that’s important because-?”
“Because we DALLIED and there’s a PARTY tonight and now Shadowheart is going to KILL us.”
“I see.” Astarion remained still, fixed in place. Then suddenly he was pulling out of you at a breakneck speed and reaching for his clothes. 
You winced a little at the sensation but scrambled for your own clothes, wiping yourself down with the cloth Astarion provided again and got dressed in what was probably record time. 
Incredibly, you both looked presentable. 
“We do make a gorgeous pair,” Astarion cocked his hip and smirked at you, going in for a kiss.
You swatted him away. “Enough flirting, loverboy, we can talk about us later!” You started reaching for blankets and pillows. 
“Us,” Astarion stood on the sidelines, testing out the word on his tongue. “I do so like the sound of that.”
“Help me, would you?” You threw a pile of blankets at him, hitting him in the face and blowing his hair back. 
He groaned. “It should be a crime to rush after you’ve just made love to the most amazing woman.” He came up behind you and smacked your butt teasingly. 
You stood up straight and tried to look angry. “We are going to die if we don’t head back right now.” Astarion wasn’t buying your anger, so you turned bashful. “You made loooove to me?” You clasped your hands together by your face. “You think I’m amaaaazing?” You twirled some of your hair for good measure.
Astarion sighed. “Be serious, woman, we’re going to die!” His voice was exasperated but he smirked at you. He bent to pick up more blankets and pillows and you did the same until you both had piles you could barely see over and nothing was left behind.
“Ugh, I’m going to have to do so much laundry,” you muttered. “Seriously, how did you manage bringing all this out here?”
“Well first, everything was folded neatly.”
“We don’t have time.”
“And second, multiple trips, darling.”
“We can’t afford to leave camp EVER again.”
Try as you might to rush back to camp, you still had to maneuver through a forest and be careful where you stepped. The pair of you moved as quickly as you could, which wasn’t as fast as was probably necessary to avoid Shadowheart’s ire. 
“Soooo…” You broke the silence after a few moments. 
“Gods,” Astarion rolled his eyes, “what?”
“‘My love,’ huh?” You waggled your eyebrows at him.
“What about it?”
“You liiiiiiked it,” you teased. 
“I-” You could see that he thought about arguing but decided not to. “I’m not used to the pet names turned on me. It’s… nice.”
“You’re cute,” you said, looking over at him affectionately and nearly tripping over a tree root as a result.
Astarion snickered, then made his face serious. “I’m the furthest thing from cute. I’m a horrifying monster.” He lowered his voice as if that would back him up.
“Yeah, but you like being mushy.” 
“I do not.”
“You do!” You moved closer to him and bumped his hip with your own. “You were so sweet to me yesterday. And just now.” 
“It’s different with you,” he said quietly.
“Oh?” You raised your eyebrows.
“It’s… um… This is stupid, I hate it.” He tried to walk ahead of you but you caught up easily.
“No, no! Please.” You gave him a reassuring look. “I, of all people, will not judge you.”
He sighed. “It’s just… nice to feel like something is mine.” He was quick to correct, “Not that I own you but… I don’t know. You’re not a victim. Not a target. Not just… one night it’s better to forget. You’re something entirely new.”
You smiled over at him. “I like you too, weirdo.”
Astarion humphed. “Whatever.” He moved closer and bumped your hip with his own. The two of you shared a fond look, then turned back to the path ahead.
If Shadowheart was going to kill you, at least you’d die together. 
You both quickened your pace to try and avoid that fate, but it was a lovely thought.
Soon, you began to make out the bright colors of your tents through the trees and the sound of your companions chatting by the fire. 
You turned to Astarion. “See you on the other side.”
He nodded, determined. “It’s been a pleasure servicing you, darling.”
“I hope she kills you first.”
You shared a laugh before you took a calming breath. 
And stepped into camp. 
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airborneice · 1 year ago
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i think we all know who the REAL star of season 3 is
i'm making a vague attempt to pace out this season by doing a drawing after each episode, so anyway here's my new fave character
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ghouljams · 22 days ago
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👏RIP👏THAT👏LEASH👏
(would it be too much for the one time he allows himself to have her to be one shot one hit boom baby Eros)
It's good that it's dark, good that your teeth touch his fingers, good that despite the heat coming off the water your skin still prickles with goosebumps when his fingers dip between your folds. After all the dark is the closest thing to a home Nikto has known with you, and teeth... well, all dogs know those.
Teeth are all that Nikto has. They scrape against your skin, his scarred mouth dragging its heat over your neck to chase each drop of water that drips from your hair with his tongue. He presses against your back, holds you like a hinge as your arms shake to hold both of you up. Or perhaps it's anticipation that makes you shiver and shudder, that makes you drop to your elbows against the edge of the bath and press your hips back into his.
It's too much to feel you rub against his cock like that. It plucks at an already frayed leash. You must know that starving dogs bite.
Your head hangs loose, your neck yielding to the press of his teeth with perfect impressions, as he blankets your body with his. Corruption in the smoke that you exhale when his fingers touch your clit, in the low moan that escapes you when he dips lower to stretch your cunt. He does this for you, gives you something you won't allow anyone else.
And takes other things.
If you are going to go out and start wars over something as small as an apple, perhaps you need something bigger to occupy your attention.
It's the hiss between your teeth that grabs the beast tight when it tries to feed you his cock. He knows the scent of iron too well though, feels the hunger in his teeth at the thought too clearly. The god of love, of beauty, of sex bleeds on the cock, his cock, that splits them open.
It isn't the heat of the bath that makes Nikto's head spin, that makes him pant against your neck and murmur the sweet words that sprout from long forgotten voices. The forge has never sung its song so sweetly than it does when your soft cunt envelops his cock.
His control never slipped so fast as it does when your curious fingers reach back to grip his hip and force him deeper.
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dromaeo-sauridae · 4 months ago
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goodbye, tommy
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