#comfort to follow

[abigailmoment]

Underdark, Reprise

(Content Warnings: Grievous Injury, Compound Fracture, Predatory Instincts, Fantasy First Aid) "You'll sink it if you try that," Astarion said, making a shooing motion, warning the huge bear further back from the comparatively delicate boat. "You are absolutely going to need to go back to being a little less massive and marginally less hairy."

The bear was pensively examining the boat and seemed to come to the same conclusion. He made a grumbling sort of huffing noise that sounded maybe slightly anxious?

Then he backed up so that he was back on the stone part of the dock. He sat down. He exhaled slowly. And then he turned back into Halsin.

The air was immediately filled with the smell of blood.

Halsin's skin was mottled with bruising and scratches to the point where it took Astarion a surreal moment to really recognize him. There was a hole in him, on the right side of his chest in the bridge where breast met stomach, punched through his leather armor. Whatever had made the hole had been pushed out, probably by the sudden manifestation of bear. So it bled immediately and freely.

Halsin moved, trying to reach for something on his belt. Then he made a guttural, pained noise because the hand he'd reached with was the dense apex of all the bruising on his right side. Purple black and lumpy in a way a hand should not be.

He reached instead with his left hand. He managed to open the pouch and fish out a bandage which he pressed immediately against the hole in his chest.

"Astarion," he said, and there was a patina of managed suffering coloring his voice. "I am going to need your help."

Oh Gods. He looked half dead. And he smelled amazing. And Astarion was going to have to get closer to him. And not...

And exercise a modicum of self-control. And help.

-

For the sake of this story we're ignoring the existence of the fast-travel points. Sorry Gale.

Full text below.

Full Text On AO3

-

The fundamental idea had been a good one. The Harpers at the Last Light Inn needed supplies and equipment. And as it happened, the inn was quite close to an elevator that led down to a recently evacuated duergar camp full of supplies and equipment. All the party needed to do was gather things into the lift, crank the lift to the surface, and make a quick jaunt through the Shadowlands.

The second step in that sequence turned out to be the weak point in the plan. It was at times like these they all felt the lack from not having a dwarf in the group. A dwarf might have noticed the creaking metal, or diagnosed why the crank that lowered and raised the elevator was becoming increasingly hard to turn.

The agonizing part was that they'd been almost done. Finished with crates and weapons, finished with braziers and torches. They hadn't even meant to do this last run, but Astarion had discovered that one of the executed drow had a Harper pin hidden in a pocket. Halsin had thought that they should bring the body to Jaheira. And Astarion had yet to his witness Tav refuse to do anything Halsin thought was a good idea.

Halsin was at the crank, as he was one of the people with enough height and therefore leverage to still turn it easily. Astarion was standing by the corpse, near the center of the lift, when things started to go terribly wrong.

The first sign of danger, their only real warning, was an unhealthy grinding sound that came from the lift's ceiling. Halsin looked up, concerned. Astarion threw himself at the still-visible gap between the cave ceiling and the bottom of the elevator entrance.

(Their survival instincts operated in different spheres entirely.)

The next six seconds were a chaos of collapsing rock and screaming metal. Astarion got a body long bruise forcing himself at speed through the not quite large enough gap. But he made it through, fell six meters, and landed staggering on the sculpted stone platform that had been their loading stage for the last four hours.

He heard more than saw what happened behind him. Cables and chains snapping, metal supports contorting, rubble falling in to fill suddenly empty spaces. The metal elevator falling heavily back down to its bottom most position, being reduced to scrap and buried.

When he turned around, what he saw met the narrative of what he heard. He also saw absolutely no sign of Halsin.

Shit. Tav was going to be so upset about this.

He stared at the wreckage, trying to stop shaking and start thinking about what to do now. Then the wreckage moved.

It was like an explosion, but with no blastpowder or fire. A bunch of the scrap metal that used to be an elevator was suddenly pushed out. Astarion jumped back to avoid being hit by bits of rock and girder. The huge bear that had displaced all that wreckage scrambled out from under it before the rest of the debris caught up with what was happening and collapsed further.

Astarion backed up more, down onto the stairs, because there wasn't room for an elf and a bear on the lift platform. He glared up Halsin.

"You have exactly one solution to every problem," he snapped.

The bear gazed impassively down at Astarion in his customary way. Well, maybe not as impassive as usual. He was panting a bit. Astarion wasn't good at reading bears.

"Move over," Astarion muttered, trying to shoulder his way back onto the platform. He didn't like how his voice was still shaky from the almost-being-buried-alive.

The bear let him by, making what space it could. Astarion stepped lightly and cautiously over to the wreckage of the elevator. He peered up at the shaft it was supposed to go up through.

The mechanics of the elevator had collapsed into a jagged metal monolith that choked the passage. And above that metal was a layer of collapsed rock. Not the sort of barrier Astarion was going to be able to lockpick his way through.

Astarion's ears twitched and he tilted his head because he thought for a moment he heard a voice. Yes he had. There it was again. Very faint. Someone yelling from above them.

Astarion looked around for something solid that he could climb and that he could be sure wouldn't collapse on him. The metal gates that girded the elevator entrance were intact and attached to the walls. He walked over, tested his weight on them, and then climbed up. He climbed as close as he could to the seam that he very recently and viscerally remembered struggling past. He got as close as he could to the stone ceiling of the elevator entrance, now choked with debris.

"Astarion!" Someone was yelling. "Halsin! Are you there? Can you hear me?"

It was Wyll. His voice was muffled, but from up here Astarion could make out the words.

"We're here!" he shouted back.

Wyll said something too soft to be decipherable. Then shouted: "Are you all right? Are either of you hurt?"

Astarion glanced down at the giant bear sitting on the elevator landing. It was watching Astarion.

"We are miraculously intact!" he shouted back.

Another unintelligible mutter. Then: "I'll be right back. I'm going to tell the others."

Astarion could hear very distantly the whooshing noise that the Flight spell made in action.

As he waited, Astarion worked his arm through the latticework of metal he was hanging off of. Clinging by hand made his fingers tired. He used to be able to do this much more easily. That was probably the only disadvantage to the mind flayer parasite--a few of his old vampire spawn abilities had been suppressed, including the one that used to let him climb walls like a spider.

Worth it, though. A thousand times worth it.

Astarion heard the distant gust of magic again. He pushed himself up to better hear Wyll's voice.

"You're to take the boat back from the duergar camp to the beach," Wyll communicated words that had almost certainly come from Tav. "Go up from there to the myconid colony. Stay there and we will come get you."

That made sense. That was a sensible plan. The mushroom creatures oversaw the only truly safe space they'd ever found in the Underdark. And getting there was re-treading ground they had already covered, so they weren't as likely to encounter as many terrifying monsters. He and Halsin should be able to manage it safely, even with only two of them.

"We'll be there," Astarion yelled back. "Don't dawdle."

"We won't," Wyll assured him.

And then he left. Because Flight only lasted so long.

Astarion exhaled slowly and hung for a moment, loose from his perch near the ceiling. He wasn't trapped. He'd almost been trapped, but he wasn't. And Tav wasn't going to let anyone get any sleep until they were all happily reunited among mushrooms.

She'd probably been rather upset by this. He could relate. He'd been extremely upset by this. He rather liked imagining her, yelling orders at a floating Wyll. Digging out maps to trace the fastest route from the Shadowlands to the Underdark. Hounding everyone to hurry back along the risen road so that she could find him.

And Halsin. Of course. She was probably worried about Halsin too.

Astarion looked down. The bear was still sitting there, staring up at him. The picture of a big dumb animal.

Only he wasn't actually a dumb animal. He was probably sitting there having deep, insightful thoughts about the situation.

Astarion sighed and climbed down. When he was back on solid ground he dusted himself off. He was filthy with rock powder. That was probably going to be the case for a while. How utterly tiresome.

"Well, come along then," he said to Halsin. "Let's steal a boat."

-

It was very easy to steal a boat when the owners were all dead.

Karlach has been the one to drive the boat the last time they made their way overwater while underground. Apparently the structure of these vessels, spike lined latticeworks of wood and bone, were very similar in construction to ships found in Avernus. Which made a sort of sense. Whatever shipwright planned this thing clearly cared just as much about looking intimidating as they cared about being able to float. Astarion could see devils having similar values.

And that hypothetical shipwright clearly cared not at all about preventing passengers from tumbling overboard. Guardrails were not a feature on these vessels.

Which did make it easy to hop on board. The deck swayed under Astarion's weight as he jumped on and climbed up to the controls. The quarterdeck. That was what it was called. Astarion was vaguely familiar with the terms you were supposed to use for parts of boats because cheap romances often happened on ships, and sometimes that was the only literature he could get his hands on. He played with the rudder and examined the lever that controlled the fan-like sails. It seemed straightforward enough.

Then the boat listed dramatically to one side. Deck tilting to a steep angle. Astarion didn't fall over, but someone with worse reflexes might have. And he didn't like being startled.

"What do you think you're doing?" he snapped at Halsin.

The giant bear moved back, taking its huge paw off of the boat's deck. He looked a little embarrassed. Maybe. Bears remained hard to read. At very least he should look embarrassed, trying something like that.

Astarion walked back down from the quarterdeck to the port side of the main deck. He made a shooing motion, warning the huge thing further back from the comparatively delicate boat. If Halsin wanted to remain a bear, Astarion generally didn't mind. It meant he didn't have to talk to the man. But in this particular instance it wasn't going to work.

"You'll sink it if you try that," Astarion said. "You are absolutely going to need to go back to being a little less massive and marginally less hairy."

The bear was pensively examining the boat and seemed to come to the same conclusion. He made a grumbling sort of huffing noise that sounded maybe slightly anxious?

Then he backed up so that he was back on the stone part of the dock. He sat down. He exhaled slowly. And then he turned back into Halsin.

The air was immediately filled with the smell of blood.

Halsin's skin was mottled with bruising and scratches to the point where it took Astarion a surreal moment to really recognize him. There was a hole in him, on the right side of his chest in the bridge where breast met stomach, punched through his leather armor. Whatever had made the hole had been pushed out, probably by the sudden manifestation of bear. So it bled immediately and freely.

Halsin moved, trying to reach for something on his belt. Then he made a guttural, pained noise because the hand he'd reached with was the dense apex of all the bruising on his right side. Purple black and lumpy in a way a hand should not be.

He reached instead with his left hand. He managed to open the pouch and fish out a bandage which he pressed immediately against the hole in his chest.

"Astarion," he said, and there was a patina of managed suffering coloring his voice. "I am going to need your help."

Oh Gods. He looked half dead. And he smelled amazing. And Astarion was going to have to get closer to him. And not...

And exercise a modicum of self-control. And help.

Astarion swallowed. And then he swallowed again, because there really was a lot of blood. And it smelled warm and fresh. Astarion closed his mouth and made a conscious decision not to inhale again until this was over.

He jumped lightly from the ship deck to the dock. He walked towards Halsin. Halfway there he realized he was stalking. He straightened up from crouching and finished closing the distance with a more normal posture.

Astarion knelt down in front of Halsin, who was sitting up but looked like he shouldn't be. The bandages he held against the wound were already turning red.

"Healing potions," Halsin said. "Right side pocket."

Astarion moved to open Halsin's pack, which looked only marginally less mangled than the man. He looked where instructed and found that those pockets were filled with shattered glass, wet with red liquid that smelled faintly of mushrooms.

So instead Astarion fished out his own healing potions. Tav insisted that everyone carry at least two. So they had two.

"Can you apply them directly to the wound?" Halsin asked him.

Interesting. Astarion didn't know terribly much about medicine, hadn't had access to it for most of his life, but it made a certain amount of sense that healing potions might be applied topically rather than imbibed. After all, they worked if you hurled them at people. And it made sense that Halsin would want to prioritize mending the wound that was definitely going to kill him, rather than letting the healing magic scatter diffusely over his myriad cuts and bruises.

Logistically the answer was obviously yes, Astarion could do that. So Astarion supposed he was being asked about his capacity for self-restraint. Probably Halsin had registered his own resemblance to wounded prey. Probably it was a novel experience.

Astarion spent some of his limited breath to ask: "Don't you have spells for this?"

"They need two hands," Halsin told him.

Of course. And his lump of a right hand wasn't doing anything intricate or magical right now.

Astarion nodded and asked shortly: "How?"

"First, help me lie down."

Halsin leaned back, and with Astarion's assistance it was a controlled descent rather than a collapse. The movement still clearly jostled things that were broken inside of him. He kept the bandage pressed hard against the wound, arm clenched with the effort of that.

"Armor needs to come off," Halsin said.

That was actually relatively easy. Halsin's leather armor was segmented in such a way that Astarion could unstrap and remove just the damaged chest part. It meant there was a moment where no pressure was being applied to the wound and Astarion turned his head away for that moment, turning back when Halsin had the bandage back in place. It did its job better now, flush with skin and without broken leather in the way.

"Pour the potion into the bandage," Halsin said. "Slowly. Give it time to absorb."

Astarion uncapped the healing potion. He tipped just a bit of it on to the bloodstained bandage.

It was fascinating to watch. The magic liquid soaked into the fabric, and then sank right out of it. As if Halsin's skin were a sponge that only absorbed that particular kind of fluid.

Astarion poured out a more generous spill of the potion, drenching the cloth. Halsin groaned, a noise of relief as the magic disappeared into him and started to perform its function.

Astarion kept at this interesting alchemy, pouring the potion bit by bit into precisely the place it was needed. Halsin breathed laboriously. He was trying to watch, but his eyes kept fluttering closed. Flirting with an unconscious state elves only ever experienced through the use of specific potions, or in situations like this.

When the bottle was two thirds empty Astarion started to have difficulty because Halsin had bled so much that the bandage was oversaturated with fluid that didn't mystically vanish. That instead sat there, red and distracting. Astarion glanced at Halsin's face to see if any other guidance was forthcoming. But the druid was truly unconscious at this point.

Astarion investigated the pouch that the first bandage had come from. He found another. Clean white thick cloth. It was like sleight-of-hand work to pull one bandage away and press down the clean one. Messy sleight-of-hand work. And now he was holding the old, utterly bloodsoaked bandage.

It was actually fairly easy to resist the intrusive impulse to put it in his mouth. Because that would look deranged. He set it aside.

Astarion finished pouring the rest of the healing potion into the wound through the medium of the fresh bandage. When that was done he went right on to the second healing potion. It seemed the only thing to do.

Astarion could pinpoint the exact moment Halsin stopped bleeding. There was a visceral difference between the smell of blood freely flowing from a body and the smell of blood already spilled and cooling. It was the same as the difference between standing directly in sunlight versus being out and about on a day that was bright, but overcast. It was a matter of intensity.

To make sure he was right, Astarion tentatively moved the bandage aside. And indeed, the skin underneath was whole. Not even scabbed. Just regrown healthy and intact in that miraculous way that happened when you used healing magic. It frankly looked a little weird. One point of health on an otherwise very damaged body.

Well then. It seemed that Astarion had successfully stopped someone from bleeding. How utterly perverse.

And he still had half of a healing potion left. He should probably do something with it. There remained a wealth of nonfatal wounds to deal with. But Halsin couldn't drink it right now. He was still unconscious.

That probably wouldn't be the most effective use of it, anyway. Now that Astarion thought about it, it seemed that the next most problematic injury was Halsin's right hand. That was preventing him from using magic. If that were fixed, the entire situation would suddenly become much more manageable.

Halsin's right arm was on the ground, spread slightly away from his body. His hand was swollen and unpleasant to look at. Fingers not quite at right shapes and angles.

Astarion prevaricated for a moment about whether he needed to do the slow process of soaking the healing potion into skin through the bandages. The problem was that there were no more clean bandages in Halsin's belt pouch. And using the soiled ones wouldn't be terribly efficient, or sanitary, or conducive to Astarion's peace of mind. And probably he didn't need to. Probably that had been a way of applying healing potion to an open wound. Probably he could just pour it directly onto the skin.

Astarion poured the rest of the healing potion out over Halsin's hand. The results were instantaneous, and good, but also awful. The thing about healing, even magical healing, is that it's not always a linear process. Sometimes wounds are complicated in a way that makes mending them painful. The hand changed and began to look much more like a hand should. And those changes were accompanied by the popping, grinding noises of bones being realigned.

Halsin screamed.

"Shit," Astarion said, flinching back. And he was about to go on to say 'Sorry', but he had run out of air for speaking. So he inhaled.

Astarion's nose and mouth filled with the copper-bright smell of the blood that was everywhere around him. And Halsin was screaming-weak and wide-eyed and he was looking at Astarion with such an expression and he was covered from neck to waist in soft skin that was meant to be torn open and there was nothing he would be able to do to stop it from happening.

Astarion stood up and turned around and walked until he hit a wall. The far wall of the dock, by the barrels of old, spoiled provisions that hadn't been good enough to take up in the lift. Astarion leaned against the wall and breathed air that smelled only very faintly of blood, and overwhelmingly of rotten fish, and he didn't do anything that Tav might never forgive him for.

Astarion had been standing there for perhaps a minute, smelling the fish and not doing things, when he heard Halsin say his name.

"Just a moment, darling," Astarion said. He needed another moment.

When he was ready, Astarion turned back to look at Halsin. Halsin was sitting up. That seemed like a good sign.

"How are we doing, then?" Astarion asked.

"Much improved, thank you," Halsin said, not sounding at all like someone who had just been screaming. "That was a good idea. A clever idea. If I had been awake I should have asked you to do it."

Astarion did not admit even to himself how much he liked being told that his ideas were clever.

"Can you cast?" Astarion asked.

"Unfortunately no," Halsin said, he was cradling his hand which did look better, but was still very swollen. "We will have to make our way without the benefit of magic."

"Make our way," Astarion muttered, and then lowered his standards from his last question and asked: "Can you walk?"

"I have to," Halsin said. "You are not the only individual in these caves who will take notice of blood."

Oh, that was a very good point. Halsin probably knew all about the taxonomy of scavengers that lived in the Underdark. It had been less of an issue when there were four ready adventurers standing around the site of bloodbaths. It was a very different situation when there were only two of them here, and only one who could fight. And Astarion felt acutely how much less dangerous he was without someone to flank with.

"Very well," he sighed. "Let's finish stealing the boat."

Astarion helped Halsin down the wooden dock. Gods, he was large and heavy. Astarion let Halsin sink back to the ground on the edge of the dock and grabbed one of the spikes that decorated the side of the boat. Astarion pulled until the wooden platform of the ship's deck was as close as could be to the dock. Halsin clambered aboard, one-handed and slow. The craft dipped slightly under his weight.

Astarion jumped aboard and climbed quickly up to the controls. He pulled the lever that fanned out the sail. He turned the rudder the wrong direction at first, but quickly corrected. They bumped against the dock a few times before turning out into the dark and open water.

Astarion glanced back at the dock and saw that a rat-like creature the size of a dog had already crept out of the shadows. It was lapping up blood off of the stone floor.

It would be deeply undignified to be jealous of that creature. So Astarion tried not to be.

***

This is part of a series. The rest of the story is on AO3.

***

[cronchy-baguette]

When all this is over, will you stay with me? For good?

[ryssbelle]

Drew a bunch of Marinettes in a bunch of different artists styles it was a lot of fun!!

Artists who's styles I mimicked: @buggachat @hamsternamedmarinette @ladybeug @sabertoothwalrus and @anna-scribbles all epic artists 🤟😎

[lucabyte]

On autonomy, and what it means to be Obliged to Help.

Bonus:

[ruporas]

captain's warm hugs! (id in alt)

[hazelira]

dada, stay?

The dim glow of the nightlight painted soft hues of pink and lavender across the nursery walls as you paced back and forth, exhaustion pulling at your every movement. Baby Haruka’s cries echoed off the walls, her tiny voice piercing through your heart. She stood near her toddler bed, fists clutching her beloved blankie, her cheeks flushed and streaked with tears.

“Please, sweetie,” you whispered, kneeling to her level. “You’re a big girl now. This is your special bed.”

But she only wailed louder, her little legs stomping against the soft carpet as she sobbed, “Nooooo! Mamaaaa!”

You sighed, brushing your hair away from your face. The ache in your back from hours of this routine was starting to set in. The maids had come and gone, their attempts to console her failing just as yours had. Each time you laid her down, she would get up moments later, trailing her blanket and searching for you or Ni-ki.

Speaking of Ni-ki.

He stood by the doorway, leaning against the frame with his arms crossed. His face was unreadable, as cold as if his daughter's cries didn’t faze him. The icy demeanour you’d grown used to pierced you harder tonight than ever.

“You could help, you know,” you muttered under your breath as you hoisted Haruka up again, her small hands gripping your shirt tightly as she continued to cry into your shoulder.

Ni-ki said nothing for a moment, his dark eyes locked on the scene before him: the baby, the struggle, you.

“I told you this would happen if you gave in to her every whim,” he finally said, his voice low and detached.

Your jaw clenched. “And I told you she’s a baby, Riki. She needs love and patience, not… whatever this is.”

Haruka’s sobs grew louder, her tiny fingers digging into your skin as she whimpered, “Dada… Dada…”

You turned to him, anger bubbling beneath your fatigue. “You hear her, don’t you? She’s calling for you, Riki. Don’t just stand there. Help me.”

Something flickered in his eyes for a fleeting moment—guilt, perhaps, or hesitation—but it was gone before you could grasp it. He pushed off the doorframe, his steps slow and deliberate as he approached. Haruka’s cries softened, her tearful gaze locking onto him as she hiccuped, “Dada…”

He crouched down, his movements stiff, and reached out to gently take her from your arms. She clung to him like a lifeline, her sobs quieting as she buried her face in his chest.

“Shhh,” he murmured, his voice still cold but softer now. He ran a hand over her hair, the action awkward yet oddly tender. “Stop crying. You'll always be our baby but you’re not a baby anymore.”

“Dada…” she whispered again, her little voice cracking.

Your chest ached as you watched the scene. Despite his detached nature, Haruka sought him out and craved his presence just as much as she did yours.

Ni-ki sat on the edge of the toddler bed, adjusting her in his arms. “This is your new bed now,” he said firmly but gently, his fingers brushing away her tears. “You have to sleep here, Haruka. No more crying. No more crib.”

She sniffled, her grip on his shirt loosening as she blinked at him. “Dada, stay?”

He froze, his cold facade cracking just slightly. His eyes darted to you as if asking for permission, though he’d never admit it.

“Fine,” he muttered, laying her down and tucking her in. He settled on the floor beside the bed, his back against the wall. “But only until you fall asleep.”

A faint smile broke through Haruka’s tear-streaked face as she clutched her blankie and closed her eyes. Her breathing evened out slowly, the room falling into an uneasy silence.

You stood by the doorway, arms crossed, watching Ni-ki as he leaned back against the wall, his eyes closing briefly.

“Thank you,” you whispered, though your tone mixed gratitude and bitterness.

He didn’t respond, his cold mask slipping back into place as if nothing had happened. But as you turned to leave, you caught a glimpse of his hand resting protectively on the edge of Haruka’s bed, a silent promise only she would understand.

The faint glow of morning filtered through the curtains, casting streaks of gold across the nursery. You rubbed at your tired eyes as you stepped into the room. The quiet was startling after the night's chaos, and you held your breath for a moment.

Haruka lay sound asleep in her toddler bed, her tiny chest rising and falling with each even breath. Her blankie was clutched in one hand, her thumb tucked into her mouth, a picture of serenity. Beside her, slouched against the wall with his head tilted back, was Ni-ki.

He looked uncomfortable, his long legs stretched awkwardly across the floor, arms folded across his chest, and yet… peaceful. His face, usually so guarded and cold, was relaxed in sleep. A soft sigh escaped your lips as you leaned against the doorway, taking in the sight.

The man who always kept his emotions locked away had stayed with her all night. It was a small gesture, but it spoke volumes.

You stepped closer, your bare feet padding softly across the carpet. Kneeling beside him, you hesitated before reaching out. For once, he seemed vulnerable, almost human, as he slumbered. You gently touched his arm.

“Riki,” you whispered.

His eyes fluttered open, his gaze meeting yours. For a brief moment, he looked disoriented, his cold facade nowhere to be found. Then, like clockwork, the walls came back up. He straightened, rubbing the back of his neck with a grimace.

“She’s still asleep,” he said, his voice gruff from exhaustion.

“I can see that,” you replied softly. “You stayed all night.”

Ni-ki stood, brushing off invisible dust from his pants. “She wouldn’t have stopped crying otherwise,” he said as if to downplay the effort he’d made.

You rose to your feet, crossing your arms. “You could’ve gone back to bed and let the maids handle it, but you didn’t. Why?”

He turned to face you, his expression unreadable. “Because you were exhausted,” he said after a long pause. “And she needed someone.”

Your heart skipped a beat at his admission. It wasn’t an apology but the closest thing to an explanation you’d ever gotten from him.

“She doesn’t just need someone,” you said, quiet but firm. “She needs you, Riki. Not just when it’s convenient or I can’t handle it anymore. She needs her father.”

His jaw tightened, and for a moment, you thought he might walk away. But then his shoulders sagged, and he let out a sigh.

“I’m not good at this,” he admitted, his voice barely audible. “Being… there. I don’t know how to be what she needs.”

Your expression softened, and you reached out, touching his arm. “You just have to try,” you said. “She doesn’t need you to be perfect. She needs to know you love her. That’s enough.”

Ni-ki’s eyes flickered to Haruka, still sound asleep in her bed. For once, the cold mask cracked, and you saw the faintest glimmer of warmth in his gaze.

“I’ll try,” he murmured, almost to himself.

It wasn’t much, but it was a start.

As you turned to leave the room, you glanced back to see Ni-ki sitting on the floor again, his hand resting lightly on the edge of Haruka’s bed. Maybe the husband you’d grown accustomed to was beginning to thaw.

part 2 here

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[21fallouts-atmychemicaldisco]

Marble Hornets

[daily-beau]

Day 13: A blinding sun

[leafyeyes417]

To soothe myself from my last post where it’s non-Joker hate *shudders* here have this.

————————————————————————

The first three months of Danny’s stay in Gotham had been mostly quiet. No big Rogue attacks since most of them were in Arkham. Unfortunately that had come to an end. There was a mass breakout and among them was the Joker.

Danny had made friends with a couple people, during his classes, and had met his new crush Tim at a coffee shop. He was actually with Tim when they got the news about the breakout. They had been walking out to Tim’s car so he could be driven home when it happened.

Tim’s POV

He had been talking with Danny when he saw him shudder and stop walking.

He frowned, turning towards him. “Danny? What’s wrong?” He watched as Danny paled, full body twitched, then his eyes turned a glowing red that took over his entire eyes. He snarled, face almost inhuman as he turned and booked it down the street at inhuman speeds (though nowhere near Flash speed).

Scrambling Tim jumped in his car and chased after Danny, though he quickly lost him. He grabbed his com and turned it on. “Oracle, I need you to track someone.” He quickly rattled out along with the street information and Danny’s description.

“Red Robin, report.” Batman growled out.

“I was walking with my friend back to my car after we heard the news of the breakout. On the way there he froze and then… I’m not quite sure but whatever it was I don’t think he was in control anymore.”

There was silence for a few moments on the coms. Oracle spoke, “I think I found his location. The cameras are fritzing out big time in a decent area near your location.”

When he managed to get there he was honestly a little sickened. There was body parts and blood everywhere. Joker goons, from the occasional mask lying around. Swallowing he ventured deeper into the zone, having to turn off his coms due to the screeching interference.

When he finally set his eyes on Danny it was to see him arm deep into the Joker’s chest. He paused, watching as the Joker’s body fell to the floor, his heart still in Danny’s hand. He watched as Danny’s eyes stopped glowing red and he swayed, dropping the heart to bring a hand to his head.

“Danny?” He asked hesitantly.

Danny turned, a hazy expression on his face. “Tim?” He slurred out.

Quickly making his way over he managed to prevent Danny from toppling over, grimacing at the blood now coating his hand. He noticed the other bats and birds arriving on scene out of the corner of his eye, but stayed focused on Danny. “Let’s get you out of here.” He said gently as he guided Danny out of the area.

Later, after he had managed to get Danny some water and a bit of food, he asked, “Do you remember what happened, Danny?” His friend looked down at his blood covered hands. “I remember walking to your car when it was like I was being grabbed by a bunch of hands and I couldn’t move. Then… it almost felt like I was being stuffed into a box or something and everything was hazy and indistinct after that. I tried fighting it but it like catching smoke. Then I was being released but it was like I had no energy. I know you called my name but I don’t recall much until after you gave me the energy bar.”

Tim frowned, glancing at Black Bat. He saw her sign “true” and nodded. Looks like they might have to call the JLD on this one.

[14dayswithyou]

💖 Day 3.5 is now available! 💖

For the last couple of months, only Server Boosters had access to the 3.5 update... Buuuuut now it's available for everyone to play in the 14DWY Discord — and soon itch.io once I'm happy with the QA and state of the game — so please don't feel pressured to join unless you want to!!

The full devlog + even more screenshots are under the cut ^^

What's been added to the 3.5 version?

📺 Streamer Mode!

I've been told that it's difficult to stream and monetise age-restricted videos on YouTube and Twitch, so I added an option to remove the sexual content and strong language used in the demo.

Now y'all can invite Ren into your bed for cuddles without putting your streamer career on the line /silly /lh

This won't affect the 18+ rating or dark themes/elements of the game, however! Although Streamer Mode will prevent you from seeing any "gruesome" CGs in the future, most of the core elements of the game will still be tied to the choices and decisions you make. So you won't miss out on the overall experience by using streamer mode!!

⚙️ Custom Pronouns!

It only took me one entire year to get around to it, but you can finally choose your own preferred pronouns (or use a set of pronouns instead)... At the cost of being able to change them mid-game ^^;

Since the original pronoun screen wouldn't update until a new scene was displayed, I temporarily disabled the feature. But once I find a workaround, I'll bring it back!

💗 Choose how others perceive you!

You can now choose how the cast and narration perceive you! Originally, the narration was kept strictly gender-neutral (outside of pronouns and genitalia picked by the player), but this will soon change in future updates.

For more clarity: you don't get to choose the words specifically, but you can choose between masculine, feminine, and androgynous terms!

📋 Separate top and bottom genitalia!

You can now choose your tatas and pps separately! >:3

Alongside that, you can also choose your preferred body type!

I removed the "both" genitalia option because a few players still assumed it was an obscure version of "intersex". That wasn't my intention and I don't want to mislead anyone, so I took it out for now ^^;

I also didn't want to include a screenshot of the new genitalia choices in action (because it's NSFW), so y'all get the same character menu screen for the nth time instead lmao

📱 Relationship Screen Overhaul!

You can now change your own status for more immersion, and long-term Server Boosters will eventually be able to submit and use their own icon within the game as well!

Stalking finding your friends has now become easier by using "Buddy Maps"; a new app that allows you to see the location of all the cast members!

I want to offer players more incentive to check the relationship screen since they tend to miss the status updates, so hopefully this might help ;v;

It also says it "updates every few hours" so folks don't go overboard and check every 5 seconds to see where Ren is gdsghf (also keep in mind that he's a hacker lol)

🖤 Additional Scenes Update!

Day 2 received a brand new CG!!!!! Originally, I planned on only adding a few CGs sporadically throughout the game, but it didn't feel right to leave Day 2 so... empty... so I added a brand new CG to (hopefully) make things feel more balanced and natural!

If you decline Teo's offer on Day 3, Leon will now call and try to convince you to reconsider. However, players are still allowed to decline, and if they do, they'll reach a dead end.

After listening to feedback on itch, I changed some of the dialogue during Days 1-3 to make it seem more consistent! They're only small changes though, so it's honestly not worth looking for sdgjssga

🎶 Updated BGM and SFX!

I wanted to try out a different style of music to see if it fits the vibe of 14DWY more! The BGM features more acoustics to suit the "beachy" theme of Corland Bay, though I made a conscious effort to include piano elements as well to stay true to the original!!

I figured it'd be better to give players a live example before I make a poll (to see if they prefer the change or not) and publish it to Itch.

Some new SFX have also been added, though it's very minimal and honestly not that noticeable.

How to download and play the update?

(warning: clicking on the following links will open Discord!!) To download the Day 3.5 update, simply join the 14DWY Discord server, verify your age, and visit the "14dwy-updates" channel!

Alternatively, you can also wait until the update is publicly released on Itch to play it as well!! (It normally gets released shortly after a round of QA testing/getting feedback from the server, though I may release it earlier if I feel like it hehe ^^)

Enjoy!!

[heavysighing-dreamyeyes]

"im not trying to fix you."

~1k words

Jason Todd is broken, but he’s not shattered. He’s picked up the pieces of himself and stitched them back together in a patchwork pattern that seems to mock who he used to be.

Jason Todd is splintered, but he’s making it work, he’s helping, he’s trying to be something greater than himself. (Even if ‘greater’ includes killing and hurting and a million other things he’d never thought he’d do)

Jason Todd is built of fragments of twisted morals and poisoned pits, so why, why do you keep showing up in his life? He doesn’t get it. He’s worked through all the scenarios, all the possibilities, and he still doesn’t have an answer.

You haven’t tried placing any bugs or cameras in his safehouse, haven't gone to the bat to try and take him down. (At least not that he knows of) You haven’t tried talking him out of taking over Gotham, and you haven’t even mentioned all the bodies piling up in his crusade against Black Mask.

He should have confronted you weeks ago. But you keep doing nice things for him. He still hasn’t figured out how you found his safehouse, but you showed up with takeout from his favorite restaurant and just kind of walked in. Really, he had been too stunned to stop you, and you kept showing up.

You always seemed to have a reason to be there, too. Blankets because his safehouse looked bare, food so you could cook dinner for the two of you, random knick knacks to bring color to his dull living room.

He wonders if you're doing it to make him feel guilty, to keep him from kicking you out of his space. As if he would ever.

It’s not until you’re telling him he should get his oven fixed so the next time you make brownies they'll cook better, that he realizes exactly what you’re trying to do.

You’re trying to make him better. He sees it now, he’s your pet project, no, your pity project that you think you can save. He doesn’t know how he could have missed it. Why else would you so freely offer your smiles? Your time? Your energy?

“You can’t fix me,” he grits out, crossing his arms as you set the brownies on the counter.

You look surprised, disbelieving even, as you pull off the oven mitts. (The ones he didn’t have before you started coming over) “What,” you question, meeting his gaze like he hasn’t found you out.

“You can’t fix me,” he repeats, harder and just as mean, “I’m not something you need to try and save.”

“I’m not trying to fix you,” you snap, and the tone of your voice makes him lose his confidence.

He opens his mouth, then closes it again. Oh. It sounds like you really mean that. He didn’t expect the hurt and anger to flicker over your face. And he certainly didn’t expect to see your face wobble.

“Is that why you think I’m here, Jason? Because you think I want to save you,” you ask, venom creeping into your voice.

“Well, yeah,” he mumbles, almost ashamed, but he doesn’t drop his gaze from yours, “There’s no other reason you’d keep coming back.”

That seems to break you, and he nearly regrets bringing up the topic at all. “Is that what you’ve thought of me this whole time,” you breathe out, anger fading.

He shakes his head, “No, I mean– I thought you were working for Batman,” he admits, and winces at how devastated you look.

“Then why did you let me come back,” you demand, and he hates the way your voice chokes at the end.

“I don’t know,” he tells you, voice going quiet, “I guess I just got used to it.” It’s a lie.He knows exactly why he keeps opening his door for you. You're a weakness he’s never outgrown, and one he never will.

You step back, eyes darting to the cooling brownies, “I just missed you,” you mumble, clearly self-conscious, “It wasn’t anything more than that.”

“Oh,” he says dumbly. There really isn’t anything else to say. He’s hurt you, thrown accusations with no basis.

He doesn’t know how to make it better, but a part of him doesn’t think he should. If you never came back, then at least you would be away from his sharp edges and his fractured parts.

The silence stretches between you like a chasm, and suddenly he does want to mend whatever he broke. He can’t help it, not when you look like you don’t know if you want to cry or run or curl into yourself and just fall apart.

He doesn’t have a plan, and maybe he should, because all he manages to do is gesture weakly to the brownies you’ve made, “Think they’re ready to eat?”

You eye him strangely, but he thinks he does succeed in fixing something. At least he hopes he did, because you sat on his lumpy couch and ate the brownies out of the pan at his side. So that has to count for something, right?

He finds it in himself to tell you they’re good, which is harder than it should be for a crime lord, and you offer him a small, unsure smile and ask if he wants to watch a movie. Your smile isn’t as bright as it usually is, but he figures he wouldn’t deserve it if it was.

The rest of the night is quiet, and you fall asleep on his couch just before the credits start to roll. He’s grateful for it. (He thinks if you had walked out after the movie, you wouldn’t have come back)

Jason carefully pulls a blanket over your shoulders, one of the ones you brought him, to shield you from the cold. He makes a note to get a better couch, even if he knows it would be better to not encourage you to come back.

After all, he’s only going to find another way to break your heart. Even when it’s the last thing he wants to do.

[alicornze7]

Silly guys goin' on silly adventures:]

@rorydrawsandwrites's puppeteer au but the only difference is that jax gives consent

My contribution to this wonderful au has been long overdue:')

Rambling in tags ehe (cw: ribbun:p)

Well maybe it's not the only difference

[doubleddenden]

Listen, I know it's not really my lane here, but I need to say something because Tumblr isn't concerned with a deadly attack in New Orleans that killed between 10 to 15 people last night on Bourbon Street during NYE or so. About 30 were injured, too, and it looks as if it was an almost worse terrorist attack because of IED's they found in the truck responsible. One was found in the French Quarter and detonated by cops.

The far right is already jumping on the blame game to illegal immigrants, especially Trump, but the man from the truck was gunned down after attempting to open fire on police and revealed to be a 42 year old American Vet- however, he seems to have one of "those" names and had an Islamic State flag on his truck, along with a gun with a silencer. FBI thinks he didn't work alone because of the bombs found, and the Airbnb the guy rented was lit on fire.

I'm not talking about this to scare you, however because the majority of Tumblr doesn't give a shit about the south unless it is to point at us and laugh, and I have seen zero posts about it here, I would implore you to do a couple of things

1. If you're in New Orleans or Louisiana, or near borders like i am, please listen to the news. I'm getting mine from AP and CBS.

2. If you know anyone that may have been there, please check in on them. I'm relieved to know two friends of mine in NO are alive and well, but I'm concerned for a couple of others.

3. I think most probably can already guess, but I'd personally get ready for another wave of xenophobia and violence towards vulnerable people that could be affected, the same way it always happens when a non white person does something like this. Take precautions to keep yourself, friends, and family safe, please.

Sources:

I'll delete this once things finally start circulating here. I'm just trying to get the word out because I almost lost friends to this.

[bunnieswithknives]

OK JUST A LITTLE THING BECAUSE IM INSANE @cubbihue

Song: Plastic by Cheekface

[ruporas]

good mornings throughout the travel

[ID: Two comics of Vash and Wolfwood from Trigun Maximum. The second is underneath the read more.

The first is in four panels and follows Vash and Wolfwood through hotel rooms. First, Vash and Wolfwood exit adjacent rooms, and Wolfwood has sparkles floating around him as he exclaims, “Rise and shine! Ready to go?” Vash frowns, displeased, and says, Urk— Good morning to you too.”

Next, they’re in a room with two beds. Wolfwood is awake and fully dressed. He’s sitting on the bed and smoking, back turned away from the viewer and he says, “Wake up already, sleepyhead.” Vash sits up with his eyes still closed and yawns before saying good morning. After that, they’re sharing a bed, and Wolfwood gets up and says, “Morning, sunshine. Time to get up.” His body shadows Vash from the sunlight. Vash is still lying down with a blanket draped over him as he mumbles good morning.

Finally, they’re embracing in bed, both shirtless. Sunlight shines on them, but their contact allows their shadows to drape over their faces. Vash smiles, kisses the top of Wolfwood’s head, and says, “Good morning, Wolfwood.” Wolfwood sleepily says, “Mph, g’morning, needle-noggin’,” snuggling into on Vash’s shoulder. End ID] ID CREDIT

TRIMAX Vol. 10 Spoilers under read more // bonus comic

[ID: The bonus comic starts with Vash asleep in bed, fully clothed with his hair half-black. Someone says “Good morning,” and Vash says, “Morning, Wolf—w...” He trails off as Livio, holding a plate of food, stares with abject shock.

Livio says, “I’m sorry.” Vash, smiling but sweating, says, “No, it’s my bad...” Livio repeats, “I’m sorry.” Vash says, “Geez, stop apologizing,” and cuts off Livio’s “I—” with a “Good morning, Livio.” Livio quietly mumbles, “... Good morning...”

Vash sits up from the couch he was sleeping on and looks down, thinking, “... That’s right. I won’t wake up to you anymore... I have to get used to that...” End ID]

[hazelira]

cravings & regrets

It was the middle of the night when you shook Heeseung awake.

"Hee," you murmured, your voice barely above a whisper.

He grunted, shifting in bed. "What is it, baby?"

You hesitated briefly before softly pleading, "I want ice cream."

Heeseung groaned, rubbing a tired hand over his face. "Baby, it’s…" He unquestioningly reached for his phone on the nightstand, squinting at the time. "Three in the morning."

"And?"

His lips pressed together. He was exhausted. He’d spent all day working, running errands, making sure you were comfortable. He just wanted one night of uninterrupted sleep. "Can’t it wait until morning?"

The silence that followed was heavy.

You exhaled sharply, sitting up in bed. "Forget it," you muttered, pushing the blankets off.

Heeseung turned his head, watching you retreat to the living room. He wanted to call you back, apologize, and tell you he’d go—but his body felt heavy, weighed down by exhaustion.

Minutes later, Heeseung woke up to an empty bed.

His arms instinctively reached for you, but all he felt were cold sheets.

A frown tugged at his lips. Maybe you were in the washroom?

But then he heard movement from the living room.

Curious—and slightly uneasy—Heeseung pushed himself up, rubbing the sleep from his eyes as he stepped out of the bedroom.

His heart dropped at the sight before him.

You were sitting on the couch, struggling to put on your shoes. Your fingers fumbled with the laces, trembling slightly, frustration etched into every movement. Your lips were pressed together, a quiet exhale leaving them as your free hand cradled your belly.

"Please, baby, stop kicking, I know you're hungry." Your voice was barely above a whisper. "Just let Mommy go get our ice cream."

Heeseung’s stomach twisted with guilt.

You were really about to go.

Alone.

At three in the morning.

Because he hadn’t listened.

"Baby."

Your hands stilled. Slowly, you turned your head, eyes meeting his.

"Heeseung, go back to bed."

He ignored your words, closing the distance between you and kneeling in front of you. His hands found yours, gently prying them away from your laces. "You were really about to go by yourself?"

You looked away. "I didn’t want to bother you anymore."

A sharp pang hit his chest.

Heeseung sighed, bringing your hands to his lips and pressing a soft kiss to your knuckles. "You never bother me," he murmured.

"You were tired," you said, voice small.

"I should’ve gotten up anyway," he admitted. "You asked me for one thing, and I—" He sighed heavily, shaking his head. "I’m sorry."

A beat of silence passed before you finally exhaled. "I just really wanted it, Hee."

"I know, baby," he whispered. "I’ll go get it now."

You blinked. "But—"

"No ‘buts.’ You’re not going anywhere." Heeseung gently took your jacket and shoes, returning them to the door hanger and shoe rack before returning them to you. He guided you to sit comfortably on the couch, ensuring a blanket was draped over you. "Just rest, okay? I’ll be back soon."

"…Three tubs?"

Heeseung chuckled softly, brushing a strand of hair from your face. "Three tubs or all of them. Any flavours you want, baby."

And as he stepped out into the cold night, he made a silent promise.

No matter how tired he was, he always got up for you.

The cold night air stung Heeseung’s skin as he stepped out of the apartment complex, hoodie barely enough to shield him from the late-night chill. He exhaled, his breath fogging in the cold as he shoved his hands into his pockets and started toward the nearest convenience store.

He should have gone the first time you asked.

That thought gnawed at him the entire walk there. The image of you struggling to put on your shoes, whispering to the baby inside you, still played in his head like a bad dream.

You didn’t want to bother him anymore.

It made him feel like the worst husband in the world.

By the time he reached the store, Heeseung was already pulling out his phone, scrolling through your texts in search of past cravings. He knew you liked vanilla, but you swore by chocolate some days. Then there was the weird strawberry and caramel combination you’d been obsessed with last month.

"Hey, man, you good?"

The cashier, a tired-looking guy around his age, raised an eyebrow as Heeseung stood frozen in the ice cream aisle, staring at the tubs like they held the answers to life itself.

"My wife’s pregnant," Heeseung explained, running a hand through his hair. "I messed up, and I need to fix it."

The cashier let out a knowing chuckle. "Ah, cravings. Been there, man. Just get one of each."

Heeseung blinked, then nodded quickly. "Right. One of each."

Moments later, he walked out of the store with a bag full of ice cream tubs—French vanilla, chocolate chip cookie dough, mango, salted caramel, and even cookies and cream, just in case. It was excessive, sure, but after tonight? He’d rather be safe than sorry.

When Heeseung returned home, the living room was quiet.

You were curled up on the couch, a blanket pulled up to your chin, eyes closed. Your breathing was steady, but your brows were still slightly furrowed, like you hadn’t fully relaxed even in your sleep.

Heeseung’s heart clenched.

Carefully, he set the bag down in the kitchen before reaching you. He crouched beside the couch, brushing a gentle hand over your hair. "Baby," he murmured.

You stirred, letting out a sleepy hum.

"I got your ice cream," he whispered.

Your eyes fluttered open, still groggy. "…You did?"

Heeseung nodded, smiling softly. "Five tubs. Every flavour you like."

A small, sleepy laugh escaped you. "Five?"

"I didn’t wanna risk getting the wrong ones," he admitted, rubbing the back of his neck. "I just wanted to make sure you had what you wanted."

Your gaze softened as you reached up to cup his cheek. "Thank you, Hee."

Heeseung leaned into your touch, exhaling slowly. "I’m sorry for earlier," he murmured. "I should’ve gotten up the first time you asked. You shouldn’t have felt like you had to go alone."

You were silent for a moment before shaking your head. "I was just… frustrated," you admitted quietly. "The cravings are bad, and the baby kicking didn’t help. I didn’t mean to make you feel guilty."

Heeseung sighed, resting his forehead against yours. "Still. I never want you to feel like you can’t ask me for things. You and our baby come first, always."

Your fingers traced light patterns on his cheek. "You got up in the middle of the night for me."

He huffed a soft laugh. "Of course I did. I’ll do it again if I have to."

You smiled, your eyes filled with warmth now. "You’re the best husband."

Heeseung grinned. "I know."

You rolled your eyes playfully before murmuring, "Can we eat the ice cream now?"

He chuckled, pressing a kiss to your forehead before standing up. "Yeah, baby. Let me get you a spoon."

And as he watched you sit up, eyes lighting up at the sight of the ice cream tubs, Heeseung knew—no matter how exhausted he was, no matter what time it was—he’d do this for you again in a heartbeat.

You sat cross-legged on the couch, a blanket draped over your lap as Heeseung set the ice cream tubs in front of you. Your eyes sparkled with satisfaction as you reached for the first tub, quickly scooping a spoonful into a bowl.

"Wait," Heeseung murmured, watching you with an amused smile. "You're mixing all of them?"

You nodded, barely paying him attention as you grabbed another scoop—French vanilla, chocolate chip cookie dough, mango, salted caramel, cookies and cream. Each melted slightly into the next, creating a chaotic blend of colours and flavours.

Heeseung leaned back against the couch, shaking his head. "That’s insane."

You glanced up at him with a teasing smirk. "And yet, I’m the one carrying your baby, craving insane things."

He laughed, stretching an arm over the back of the couch as he watched you take the first bite. The second the spoon hit your tongue, you let out a slight, satisfied hum, your body visibly relaxing as the craving was finally happy.

"Is that good?" Heeseung asked, his voice softer now and filled with quiet fondness.

You nodded, eyes fluttering shut for a moment. "So good."

Heeseung chuckled, reaching out to tuck a strand of hair behind your ear. "Glad to know my lack of sleep was worth it."

You cracked one eye open, a guilty smile tugging at your lips. "I’ll make it up to you."

"You already did," he murmured, gaze flickering down to your belly. "By giving me our baby."

Your heart swelled at his words, and for a moment, the exhaustion, cravings, and frustration from earlier faded into something warm, something safe.

"You wanna try?" you asked, holding the spoon to him.

Heeseung grimaced playfully. "I don’t know if I trust that combination."

You rolled your eyes, scooping another bite and holding it closer. "Come on, Hee. For me?"

He groaned dramatically before leaning in, letting you feed him. The moment the flavours hit his tongue, his face twisted in confusion.

"Yeah, no," he muttered after swallowing. "That is not a normal mix."

You giggled, licking the spoon yourself. "More for me, then."

Heeseung just shook his head, smiling as he watched you eat.

A few minutes passed in comfortable silence before he spoke again, voice barely above a whisper. "Hey."

You glanced at him. "Hmm?"

"Promise me next time you want something this bad, you’ll wake me up again," he murmured, reaching for your free hand and lacing his fingers through yours. "Even if I grumble or complain, just wake me up."

Your fingers squeezed his. "I promise."

And with that, Heeseung relaxed, pressing a kiss to the back of your hand as you continued eating.

Even if he lost sleep every night for the rest of your pregnancy, it would still be worth it—because he’d do anything for you and the little life you were bringing into the world together.

As the minutes ticked by, the ice cream in your bowl slowly melted into a sugary swirl, but you were too full to finish it. You sighed contentedly, setting the spoon down with a soft clink.

"Done?" Heeseung asked, peering at your half-empty bowl.

You nodded, stretching your arms with a sleepy hum. "I think I ate too fast," you admitted, rubbing your belly.

Heeseung chuckled, gently reaching out to place his palm over your bump. "You okay, baby?" he murmured, not just to you but to the tiny life growing inside you.

As if in response, a slight kick nudged against his hand.

His eyes widened slightly before his lips curled into the softest smile. "Still active, huh?"

You giggled. "I think they liked the ice cream."

Heeseung kept his hand there, thumb rubbing slow circles against your stomach. He looked so in awe—like feeling his child move inside you was the most incredible thing in the world.

A lump formed in your throat.

You had moments like this before, but something about how he looked at you now—completely present, entirely yours—made you emotional.

"Hee," you whispered.

He glanced up at you, eyes warm and full of love. "Yeah?"

You swallowed, your free hand reaching out to touch his cheek. "I love you."

His expression softened even more, and without hesitation, he leaned in to press a lingering kiss to your lips. It was slow, full of silent apologies and promises, the kind of kiss that made you forget everything else.

"I love you too," he whispered against your lips. "So much."

You smiled, feeling sleepier by the second.

Heeseung noticed. "Come on," he murmured, carefully setting your bowl aside before helping you. "Let’s go to bed."

"But I was comfy here," you whined playfully.

Heeseung rolled his eyes fondly. "Yeah? You’re gonna be comfier in bed, baby."

You let him lead you, his arm wrapped securely around your waist as he guided you back to your shared bedroom. Once you were under the blankets, he climbed beside you, immediately pulling you close.

Your head rested against his chest, the steady rhythm of his heartbeat lulling you into a peaceful state.

"Wake me up if you need anything," Heeseung murmured, lips brushing against your forehead.

You hummed sleepily. "Even if it’s for ice cream?"

"Even if it’s for ice cream," he confirmed, his arms tightening around you.

And with that, you drifted off, safe and warm in your husband’s embrace, knowing that no matter what—no matter how exhausted he was—he’d always take care of you.

The following day, Heeseung woke up before you.

It wasn’t intentional—he just happened to stir before the alarm, eyes fluttering open to the early sunlight filtering through the curtains. He first noticed the warmth pressed against him, your body curled into his side, one hand resting over his chest.

A lazy smile tugged at his lips.

You were still asleep, breathing slowly and steadily, and your face was peaceful in the soft morning glow. Heeseung’s heart swelled at the sight, and he carefully shifted to kiss your forehead, not wanting to wake you yet.

Last night’s events played in his mind, and he sighed quietly.

He still felt guilty for not getting up the first time you asked. He hated that you’d been so desperate for something as simple as ice cream that you were willing to go alone in the middle of the night despite how exhausted and uncomfortable you must have been.

Heeseung promised himself he wouldn’t let that happen again.

Careful not to disturb you, he slipped out of bed, padding into the kitchen. The ice cream tubs were still in the freezer, untouched, except for the ones you ate. Heeseung smirked, shaking his head at the ridiculous amount of flavours he had bought.

He could already imagine you teasing him about it later.

Instead of thinking too hard, he started preparing breakfast—something light but comforting. He knew your appetite had been over the place lately, so he settled on making soft scrambled eggs, buttered toast, and a small fruit bowl.

As he moved around the kitchen, he kept stealing glances toward the bedroom, listening for any signs of you waking up. He wanted you to sleep as much as possible. You deserved it after last night.

Just as he was about to pour you a glass of water, he heard soft footsteps.

Turning around, he saw you standing in the doorway, hair messy from sleep, eyes still half-lidded. You were wearing one of his oversized hoodies, the sleeves covering your hands, making you look even smaller despite your growing belly.

His heart squeezed at the sight.

"Morning, baby," Heeseung greeted, voice gentle.

You yawned, rubbing your eyes before blinking at him. "You left the bed."

He chuckled, setting the glass down before walking over to you. "Just to make breakfast." He reached out, pulling you close so he could press a kiss to your temple. "How’re you feeling?"

You leaned into him, arms looping around his waist. "Better. Still tired."

"Go sit down," he murmured, rubbing your back. "I’ll bring your food."

You didn’t protest, letting him guide you to a chair at the dining table. Heeseung placed the plate in front of you before sitting across from you, watching you take your first bite.

The second you let out a pleased hum, Heeseung felt his shoulders relax.

"Good?" he asked, a small smile on his lips.

You nodded, chewing happily. "You take such good care of me, Hee."

Heeseung’s heart melted at your words. Reaching across the table, he took your free hand in his, squeezing gently.

"Always," he murmured.

And in that quiet morning light, as you shared breakfast together, Heeseung knew it would always be worth it no matter how exhausted or inconvenient.

You sighed happily, the warm breakfast filling you with much-needed comfort. Heeseung sat across from you, his hand still holding yours as if he didn’t want to let go. You knew he felt guilty about last night, even if he hadn’t said it outright.

"Hee," you murmured between bites.

He looked up from his plate. "Yeah?"

You gave his fingers a reassuring squeeze. "You don’t have to feel bad about last night."

His lips parted slightly like he was about to protest, but you beat him to it.

"I get it," you continued. "You were tired. I was just being stubborn." You poked at your eggs with your fork, feeling a little embarrassed now that you were thinking about it with a clearer head. "I should’ve waited until morning instead of trying to go out alone."

Heeseung exhaled slowly, rubbing the back of your hand with his thumb. "Still," he murmured, eyes filled with guilt, "I don’t like the thought of you struggling alone, even if it’s over something small. You’re carrying our baby, Y/N. I want to be there for you—even when I’m half-asleep and grumpy."

Your chest ached at his sincerity.

"You are here for me," you reassured him. "Always. You came through last night, didn’t you?"

Heeseung let out a soft chuckle. "After being a pain in the ass about it."

You smiled, lifting his hand to press a kiss against his knuckles. "I love you—even when you’re a pain."

His expression softened, and before you could react, he was out of his chair, crouching beside you. He rested his forehead gently against your belly, hands cradling your sides.

"And I love you," he whispered, speaking to you and the little life inside you. "Both of you."

Your throat tightened, and you were overwhelmed with emotion. You ran your fingers through his soft hair, letting the moment linger.

Then, Heeseung pulled away just enough to look up at you, a teasing glint in his tired eyes.

"…So, no more midnight ice cream runs?"

You bit your lip, suppressing a smile. "I mean… I can’t promise that."

He groaned dramatically, dropping his head onto your lap while you giggled, fingers still tangled in his hair.

"Yeah, that’s what I thought," he muttered against the fabric of your hoodie.

Despite his complaint, you knew—without a doubt—he’d do it all over again if you asked.

Because Heeseung loved you.

And he would always choose you.

requested by: @leilamaybelyla

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