#i said i would make an apology in the tags

[fungateshortcakes]

Tummy ache

Do I have kids? No. Do I want kids? Fuck no. Did I still write this because dad logan makes me feel a certain type of way? HELL YES

Pairing: Worst!Logan x single mom!Reader

Summary: It's late and your little daughter Laura won't stop crying and screaming, no matter what you do. You take her to your best friend Wade, who lives in the same apartment buildung. Will he and Logan be able to help you?

Wordcount: 3.4k

Warning/tags: english is not my first language, fluff, slight missunderstandings, Wade bc he needs a warning, implied sexual themes, friends to lovers, just cuteness, Laura doesn't exists as an adult like in the movie, rushed ending?, leave me alone I finished this at midnight

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Logan was snoring on the couch in Wades apartment when loud, frantic knocks sounded on the door. He grumbled in annoyance as he turned, pulling a pillow over his head.

He heard Wade skip to the door in a pair of white underpants with hearts on them and a loose, grey wolverine fangirl shirt. "Must be the horse dildo I ordered" he spoke happily as if it was the most normal thing to say. Once Wade opened the door, the piercing shrieks of a baby crying echoed through the apartment.

You held your one year and a half old daughter in your arms, her face red as she cried into your shoulder. Wade noted that your hair was a mess and you seemed awfully tired. Well- it was late and on any other day, you and your daughter would already be sleeping. But there was clearly something that bothered her. She had been crying and screeching and in discomfort for an hour without you finding what caused it or how to fix it.

You tried feeding her, but she wouldn't open her mouth for the spoon. You tried reading to her, but she would always push away the books. You changed her diapers in case her sensitive skin was irritated by the dampness, but she hadn't peed. You didn't know why she was so distressed and nothing seemed to distract her from whatever it was that made her cry.

You were desperate. And while your best friend Wade wasn't really...fond of kids, which you couldn't blame him for, you still went to him for help. You never truly wanted kids yourself. But when the condom broke and your ex left you upon finding out you were pregnant, you were stuck with your baby. And now you wouldn't trade her for the world. Except in times where she was screaming with no appearant reason. "Hey Wade, I'm so sorry to bother you guys this late at night, but Laura, she won't stop crying. I've tried everything and I don't know what to do" you croaked, rocking the small child in your arms, shushing her to no avail.

Wade brought you inside so you wouldn't stay outside in the hallway any longer. No need for some neighbors to peek their head out of their doors to see what was going on.

In situations like these, Wade could be oddly serious and actually tried to help. He knew you were insecure because of your baby. You didn't want to be a nuisance or burden to anyone because you knew that your daughter could be a lot. Kids were high maintanance and you didn't want to make people feel like they were obligated to make room and drop everything once you arrived with your child. You couldn't expect from anyone that they were okay with you bringing your kid over. But Wade wanted you to know that even though he didn't like kids, you were his best friend and Laura had been nothing but a sweetheart so far. You were always welcome in his apartment.

Wade kicked Logan from the couch "Get your fat ass off the couch, the Lady needs a place to sit" he loudly said over Lauras crying. Logan groaned. You sat on the sofa and tried to take up as little space as possible. "Im sorry Logan, didn't want to disturb your sleep." you apologized meekly. "I can..I can move to the chair here" you muttered, pointing to an uncomfortable-looking wooden chair that replaced an armchair, which had recently been thrown out of the apartment due to mysterious stains and various rips and cuts in the fabric.

You had met Logan a few times since he lived with Wade and Althea. And you would be a liar if you said he didn't catch your eye. He was tall, broad and very handsome, pretty much right up you alley. But there was no way he was looking for a chaotic single mother that barely had her life together and struggled to raise an unplanned child because her ex left her. Yeah, no. You were miserable. Logan didn't need any of that.

Adding to that, he always seemed to avoid you when Laura was near. You just thought he didn't like kids, which was totally fair. Truthfully, Logan liked kids and had always wanted some of his own, but it just...never happened. With him being the worst wolverine and all.

Then why did he avoid you and your baby?

Simply said, he didn't want to scare her. Most kids looked at him like he was some sort of big, bad monster. Some ran away, some started crying, others hid from him behind their parents when he walked by. He wasn't good with children either because they never let him close enough before getting scared. He was afraid that Laura would react the same way like all children did. He didn't want you to back away once you realised that Laura didn't approve of him.

He couldn't bear only seeing you from afar.

As you were about to stand up from the couch, Logan stopped you. "No, its fine. Stay on the couch. I can move" he replied and you felt another pang as he moved away from you again.

Wade leaned over the couch, looking down at Laura who was still wailing uncontrollably. You sighed deeply, a throbbing ache behind your eyes. "Why won't you stop crying? What's wrong, sweetheart?" you nearly sobbed as well. You were so tired of this, so tired of this sound. You felt so helpless and stupid. "Maybe she wants some food? We have some left-over pizza, I can grind that stuff up into a slurry for her or something" Wade suggested.

You softly shook your head. "She doesn't want to eat, I tried. I also tried to read her a bedtime story, but she just push me away. I also changed her diapers but nothing helped" you rasped, ready to just fall asleep on the spot.

Wade reached down to get your crying daughter out of your arms. "How about you get some sleep while Wolvie and I take care of Laura? Maybe we'll find out what's rubbing her the wrong way." Wade said, cooing to your crying baby. You fell onto the couch, closing your eyes. "I can't just sleep when she is crying" you mumbled, clearly deadly tired.

"We'll take care of her. You go sleep" Logan drawled and his deep voice soothed you even more, made you even more sleepy. It was so easy to let your body betray your mind and you hated it. "Okay..." you whispered, too tired to argue. And before you could snuggle into the couch cushions, you felt two strong arms slip under your body and lifting you up as if you weighted nothing. You were so tired, you couldn't even gasp or protest as Logan brought you into Wades room, your senses enveloped with his scent.

He carefully lowered you down onto the matress, covering you up with a blanket. "Sleep tight, love. We'll take great care of your little one, so you don't have to worry about a thing" he drawled softly and only after closing the door behind him did he hope that you hadn't catched his slip-up, that he had called you love.

~☆~☆~☆~☆~☆~☆~☆~☆~☆~☆~☆~

In had been another two hours of constant crying and screaming. The kid must be exhausted from all the crying, but she still didn't stop. If you asked Logan, it became even worse.

"God, can you shut up for a minute? I am trying everything here!" Wade stressed, bouncing Laura in his arms and patting her back. "Don't tell your mom I said that" he whispered right after. Laura wailed and pushed herself away from Wade with her tiny hands, which were surprisingly really strong. She squirmed in his grasp, desperate to be set down.

"This is how you thank me? I've worked my ass off the past hour to get everything to your liking and now you push me away?" he grumbled, but set her down with a loud 'ouch!' after she started to scratch him.

Her tiny feet waddled against the livingroom floor as fat tears rolled down her chubby cheeks. She had a tummy ache, but she couldn't communicate that with anyone. There were a few words she knew and could say- cat, dog, mama. But she didn't have the words to say that something was hurting.

Logan sat on the couch and watched her as she stood a few feet away from him with her red face, screaming together the whole neighborhood. He sighed deeply, the sound making his ears ring. Then, out of nowhere, she waddled over to him.

"No, no, bub. Not a good idea. Get back to uncle Wade" he told her, scooting up the couch a bit more. He could have just stood up and walk away- why didn’t he? Laura stood between his legs now, demanding uppies from him as she cried. Logan shook his head, ready to call Wade from the kitchen, when Laura began screetching, stretching herself to Logan, standing on her small tip toes.

With a huff, he picked her up, his big and warm hands eveloping her small body. He leaned back against the couch with her on his lap. To his surpise, she quieted down. "You okay now, bub?" he asked her, jumping as she snuggled herself against his chest. Due to his mutation, Logan was always very warm. His whole body was like a heater and that warmth soothed Lauras tummy ache, unbeknownst to him.

The apartment was quiet now, only a few hiccups and sighs coming from Laura as she let her stomach ache be washed away by Logans cozy warm body. He didn't know what to do! One minute he was tortured by her screams and now she was napping on him. On him! Out of all people, she chose to rest on him.

"Is she dead!?" It was now Wades turn to yell as he came stumbling into the kitchen because it suddenly went all quiet. Logan didn't answer him nor did he move a muscle, too scared to wake your baby up.

"What the fuck" Wade blurted out upon seeing something he had never thought he would ever witness in his entire life. Logan shushed him, making Wade frown. He came closer, his face next to Lauras sleeping one "You little cheating slut" he sharply whispered, earning himself a shove from Logan. "Seriously, did you knock her out? Why is she sleeping all of a sudden?" Wade asked with crossed arms.

"I don't know. She wanted me to pick her up, so I did. Then she stopped crying and fell asleep" Logan explained, a warm feeling spreading in his chest as he watched the slow rise and fall of Lauras breath, her tiny hand tightly holding onto his shirt.

"Wow" Wade said. "You're the baby whisperer" Logan shot him a glare.

Wade went on a rant about how everything would have been easier if Logan took Laura from the start before finally falling asleep draped over the chair, leaving Logan alone with his thoughts. For a moment, Logan thought about bringing Laura to you so she could sleep with her mom. But as he tried to peel her off of him, she started fuzzing and whimpering until she was laying back on his chest.

He sighed deeply. Well, gotta make the best of the situation, huh? With a grunt, he made himself comfortable on the couch and fell asleep with a broad hand securily holding Laura on top of him.

~☆~☆~☆~☆~☆~☆~☆~☆~☆~☆~☆~

You woke up well rested. Weird. You haven't slept this good since Laura had been born.

Laura!

You jumped awake, stumbling over some stuff in Wades room before you reached the door. It was quiet as you opened it and you were met with the sight of Logan, the fucking Wolverine, sound asleep with your daughter cuddled up on him as if he was some kind of big teddy.

Your heart soared in your chest, your stomach did flips and summer saults. And your pussy throbbed. Couldn't help it, seeing him with your baby did something to your ovaries. It was...so cute. You wanted nothing more than to snuggle up with them, trace patterns onto his pecks while Laura would squeak out an adorable smile-

"Mama" Laura squealed suddenly, flashing you a smile with her few teeth. "Hey there, baby" you cooed to her, kneeling down next to the couch to be eye-level with her. She smiled brightly, whatever it was that had bothered her yesterday completely forgotten. "You seem happy using uncle Logan as a pillow" you said to her, kissing her chubby cheek.

Logan started waking up, only registering Laura at first. "You slept well, bub?" he muttered with a deep sleep laced voice, gently rubbing Lauras small head with his large hand that easily fitted around the back of her head.

"Yes, I did. Thank you for asking" you giggled softly, amused by the way Logan nearly jumped out of his skin upon noticing that you were there too, witnessing how he went soft for your daughter. An embarrassed blush krept onto his face and he cleared his throat, sitting up and avoiding your gaze. "Sorry, she...she only stopped crying when she sat on my lap"

You smiled softly at him. "Seems like she really likes you, then." and I like you too, you wanted to add, but didn't. "She is usually not that touchy with people she barely met" you said and hearing your reassurance- the fact that Laura seemed to like him- it warmed his heart. But he would never admit that.

"Well, I guess I'm flattered" Logan replied with the hint of a smile, his gaze soft as you lost yourself in his eyes, Lauras babbling fading into the background. For a moment, you let yourself think about what could have been. This baby, it could have been Logans and yours. She could have been born because two people truly loved each other. Did Logan love you? You doubted it. But when he looked at you like that, you allowed yourself to be fooled.

"I don't know how you manage to fuck each other just with your eyes, but get a room. There are children present" Wade suddenly said outraged, covering Mary Puppins eyes.

You picked up Laura from Logans lap, holding her against your hip to bring distance between you, Logan and Wades teasing. Logan cleared his throat, clearly disappointed.

"I am so, so thankful that you guys helped me. I don't know what you did or what was wrong with her, but she seems all better now. Is there anything I can do to show my gratitude? you asked, gently bouncing Laura in your arms.

Logan shook his head "No need, bub" he grumbled in his deep voice. He would have done this a thousand times if it meant he could hold your baby in his arms as if it was his. "Make that creamy ass mac and cheese and my life is yours. That stuff tastes and sounds better than any pussy" Wade chimes in, making you laugh. You promised to invite both of them over for dinner sometimes this week and they happily agreed. Laura squeaked out a cute "bye!" before you went back to your own apartment again.

~☆~☆~☆~☆~☆~☆~☆~☆~

Ever since that day, visits to either Wades or your apartment became more frequent and Laura couldn't be happier seeing Logan pretty much every day. She would stick to his leg from the minute she saw him and to the last second before he left. It was adorable and made you fall even deeper in love with someone you could never have.

Wade made it his mission to steal Laura away from you and Logan. Partly because he wanted you to spend more time alone, and to teach her some words since he was her 'uncle' after all.

Laura sat on his lap, staring down at Wades phone. He looked over her head. He had a picture open that showed you, Laura, Logan and Wade. "And who is that?" he pointed to you, earning a delighted squeal from Laura as she pointed to your smiling face on the picture as well "Mama!" she babbled. Wade cheered her on, applauding her. "That's right, and that is Dada. Dada" he pointed to Logan. Laura recognized him, smiling brightly and giggling, but she didn't say anything. "Can you say that? Dada?" Wade asked in the best baby voice he could muster. But still, Laura wouldn't say anything. "Come on, say Dada. Da-da" Wade tried one last time, but Laura unwrapped himself from his arms to go and play with some toys scrattered on the floor. He huffed in frustration. It was easier to teach kids swear words than this.

Two days later, the day for the dinner came and someone rang your doorbell. You left Laura to play on her playmat and went over to the door, opening it a slit before realising that it was Logan. You fixed your hair with flushed cheeks, you hadn't expected him to come this early, you had just started the dinner preperations. "Oh, hey Logan. What are you doing here? Dinner was planned in two hours" you said, gingerly letting him into your apartment which you hadn't had the time to tidy up yet. Logan wasn't the guy to judge, but you still felt insecure.

"I thought I'd help you with the cooking and all. Look after Laura so you can work in peace" he said, knowing that he was just here to spend more time with you and Laura alone to give him the feeling of having his own little domestic family that he will never actually experience.

You smiled at him "That's very nice of you, but Laura is actually being very umcomplicated today" speaking of which, you showed him that your kid was silently playing with her toys. Upon noticing you and Logan, she squealed and stood up slowly, trying to keep her balance, before she waddled up to him excitedly. "There's my little pumpkin" he drawled, bending down to pick her up swiftly.

"Dada!" she giggled, making you an Logan stop in your tracks. "Did you hear that?" he asked you, looking over at you with a shocked expression. You frowned. You had never taught her to say that. "Sweetheart, who is that?" You asked the little girl, tapping Logans arm, just to be sure you hadn't heard her incorrectly. "Dada" she squeaks again, playing with his coarse beard.

You both looked at each other in disbelieve and for a second, you feared Logan woulf shove Laura into your arms and leave. "Look, I'm sorry. I don't know where she got that from" you tried to apologize, but the rejection from Logan never came.

He held her lovingly to his chest, giving her forhead a kiss. It made your heart pound faster. "No, it's okay" he reassured you, his large hand enveloping the back of Lauras head. "I...I could be her dad. If you want me to be" his question struck you like lightning, it was like a damn marriage proposal.

A marriage proposal you would never say no to. He looked at you with hopeful eyes, waiting for your answer and worrying he had overstepped.

"Yes. Be the father she never had. And please be the love I always wanted" you whispered, leaning up to kiss him. The kiss was soft, your lips brushing against the other and it was nothing you had ever felt before. You had kissed your ex- but never did it feel like this. So right. His free hand snaked around your waist, deepening the kiss until Laura decided to pull at your shiny necklace.

You smiled at her, taking her into your arms. "Do you want to play with daddy while I make mac and cheese?" you asked your daughter and minutes later, Logan had brought her playmat and some toys into the kitchen to sit beside her on the ground to watch and entertain her. It was like nothing had changed. Little did you know, Logan had accepted the little girl as his daughter way before today, even if you guys had never confessed.

And as you stole glances down to Logan, who was already looking at you with these half lidded bedroom eyes, you knew that after dinner, Logan and you would be trying for Lauras sibling.

_______________________________

I really hoped you liked this, I feel like I've rusted a bit. Still got a lot of smut ideas and fics open that I need to finish. Wish me luck☹ if you saw any grammatical mistakes, no you didn't. Leave me alone im tired

Btw, thanks to @buck-star for motivation me to finally finish this <33

[zigrethsnotebook]

Writing a thesis

Ford x Reader

words: 1,968

tags: nsfw, they have sex in this, cockwarming

a/n: i usually try to write the reader as gn as possible but in here they're going to have a vagina, sorry:/

You and Ford both sat in his lab, him busy on whatever he was researching now and you busy doing some reading for your thesis. You were somehow massively behind schedule, even though Stanford Pines was your study buddy. Then again, of course you were when he regularly said things like he did today.

"Ugh, I can't focus! I need to be inside you." He turned his chair to face you. "Please?" Without looking up from your literature you answered him. "Love, that hasn't worked once and I really need to get something done today."

He rolled his chair over to you, virtually begging you to look at him. "We don't need to have sex. I just want to be inside you." This managed to pull your eyes out of your book and onto him. "What, like cockwarming? How would that help?"

Ford's eyes were hopeful and pleading. "We'd both get what we want? I'd get to be inside you and you'd get to keep working." You pondered this for a moment. If this would get him to be quiet it could be worth a shot.

Plus, there surely wouldn't be any negative repercussions of conditioning yourself to only be able to work on your thesis while you had Ford's dick filling you up. Surely.

You squinted at him. "Under one condition: You don't move inside me until I am done with this book. That's the very least I need to get done today and if you mess this up then I'm afraid I won't be able to be around you while I write this thing anymore."

Ford's eyes were big as he nodded eagerly. "I won't, I promise." You sighed. "Alright. Okay, so first things first. I want you to grab a blanket. It is too cold down here. I won't be able to sit here without pants and without a blanket."

He quickly stood up and went to grab a blanket out of one of the many cabinets in his lab. While he was doing that, you moved all your stuff to his desk as you would be sharing it for the next while.

Ford spread the blanket out on his chair. "Okay, pants off." You commanded and he quickly did as he was told. His dick was already rock hard and you could feel yourself clench around nothing in anticipation.

"Sit down." You told him as you got rid of your own pants. "And get comfortable. You'll be sitting there for a while." Ford gulped audibly. He was so needy already, even without words.

"Are you ready?" You asked him as you moved to straddle Ford, your back to him. His hands found your hip, guiding you towards his crotch. "Yes, I am."

You lined yourself up with his cock and slowly let yourself sink onto it, feeling him stretch you out in the way you loved so much. You moaned when you reached the end, feeling him fully inside you. Ford groaned behind you as well, already enjoying this a little bit too much for your liking.

After a moment of adjusting yourself to his size and relaxing around it you grabbed the sides of the blanket and wrapped them around your legs and exposed middle. In another swift movement you pulled your chair closer to the desk and opened your book back up.

Ford still breathed heavily behind you while also twitching pathetically inside you. You hadn't even done anything interesting yet. With his hands still on your hip holding you tight he tried to buck up once, making you gasp.

With a sharp tone in your voice you reminded him. "What did I say about not moving inside me?" You heard Ford whimper behind you, muttering a half-hearted apology. "Don't do that again," you grumbled as you turned back to your work.

The book had already been boring as hell when you started reading it, but now with Ford's cock pulsing inside you it took you twice as long to read it. After a few pages you could feel yourself starting to clench around him, your body betraying you in a desperate attempt to achieve some form of relief.

Ford just winced silently with every move of your muscles or anytime you shifted ever so slightly. But he held his promise. No more movement from him. He also kept mostly quiet. Ideal working conditions if it weren't for the fact that you were slowly starting to lose your mind.

His dick just felt so good inside you, already touching all the right spots, it just wasn't enough. You wanted to ride him until it was all you could think about. There was also a slightly wet spot starting to pool in your seat on your boyfriend, a mix of both of your fluids. Best not to think about it.

You turned the page of your book again, taking notes. Although, by now your notes were riddled with more references to your current position that you'd like. Scribbled beneath the lines of important texts were words like 'deeper', 'oh god' and 'can't think - dick too good' in an almost frantic handwriting.

By the third time you read the paragraph you were currently stuck at you clenched around him again, accidentally and quite strongly. Ford moaned behind you, digging all his twelve fingers into your hip. You hissed and pressed your eyes shut as he pushed you deeper onto himself.

After a moment he loosened his grip a little again. Breathless, he asked: "How many pages left?" You looked at your book, dreading the answer yourself. "About thirty." Ford just groaned in response. You turned your focus back on your book, determined to finish this as quickly as possible.

About twenty-five pages and a few more self-inflicted distractions later, you were so close to achieving your goal for the day. You were also so close to losing all control. The blanket was disgustingly wet where it touched your middle and Ford's cock was still twitching inside you.

Ford himself had started to softly caress your thighs as if his own weren't trembling beneath you, essentially turning his dick into a vibrator.

You turned the page again. "Just three more..." You barely got the words out, totally lost in the sensations. Ford whimpered in response, not trusting his voice at all.

When Ford heard you turn the page again, indicating that you were on the last one he decided to do something that would definitely make you mad at him. He moved one of his hands from your thigh to your middle, quickly finding your clit and putting pressure on it with his index finger.

Your already incredibly sensitive organ fired all kinds of reactions up to your brain, making you roll your eyes back and falling backwards into Ford's chest with a loud moan.

The movement on his cock made him wince but he still started to rub slow circles on your clit. Your entire body started shaking, the pleasure already too much for you. "F-ford... I'm not- nghh... not done yet." You were barely able to get the words out between heavy breaths and moans.

And even though it took all his strength to keep the statement true, he responded cockily: "And I'm not moving inside you." You wanted to be mad and glare at him, but you were so lost in his finger on and his dick inside you that your vision started to blur.

Your body now seemingly acting on its own started to grind against Ford's finger, making you also grind deeper onto his cock, chasing your own release. Ford's breath was hot and heavy in your neck as you could only lean against him for support.

He increased the pace on his finger a little, bringing you to the brink of your orgasm and then pulled his finger away, leaving you breathless and grinding against nothing. Well, his cock and nothing. "Wha... Ford, you ca... you can't stop."

"I have to. You haven't finished your book." He wanted to still sound cocky but his own voice was breathless and a needy beg to do it quickly.

It took you a moment to gather yourself, coming down from the brink of your orgasm with his dick still twitching inside you was no easy task. You clenched around him a couple of times, more or less deliberately. Ford whined your name behind you. "Please... read quickly."

You slowly sat back upright, making both of you moan at the movement. Your eyes found your book and tried desperately to focus on it but the words were still slightly blurry. A few deep breaths later you could read again.

A few minutes later you were done and closed the book shut. The noise made Ford open his eyes again, waiting for your signal. "I'm done." With that his hand shot to your middle again.

He let one finger poke underneath you to the spot your bodies were connected, feeling around your entrance. "God, you take me so well..." You whimpered and Ford traced the finger back up to your clit, resuming his previous endeavor.

You let your eyes roll back again and held onto the desk for support. "Ford... please." Ford hummed in your ear. "Yes... come for me. I want to feel you on my cock." You moaned loudly, letting him coax you to the edge again.

"Yes, Ford! I-I'm gonna..." You moved your hips against his hand again, the steady rhythm of his finger getting you to the brink of your orgasm again. "Yes! Yes!" Ford could feel you clenching around him strongly, your orgasm setting in, which Ford used to buck up hard, causing him to spill into you immediately.

You saw stars as your body shook and clenched and twitched all without your permission, the pleasure of your orgasm crashing into you like a giant wave. Meanwhile, it kept Ford hard and groaning as he came down from his own high.

You hadn't even come down from it yourself as you felt Ford buck up into you again, his finger still drawing excruciating circles on your clit. "Come on, you can go again. I know you can." Ford's deep voice said from behind you.

You tried to lift yourself off him ever so slightly, but your legs immediately gave out, causing you to crash back down onto him and both of you to moan loudly. Luckily, Ford picked up the pieces and continued bucking up and drawing circles like his life depended on it.

The needy moans and wet sounds your bodies made rang out through the entire lab and Ford mentally thanked himself for having soundproofed this area of the house.

Ford's rhythm became erratic as he panted into your ear. "Won't last... much... longer." And one thrust later he spilled into you again. "Ford... please don't- ngh. Don't stop."

Even though he was fully spent he couldn't deny you now. He managed a few more pathetic thrusts as he put more pressure on your clit, sending you over the edge again. Ford held your shaking form as you rode it out on him, both of you red-faced and panting.

As you came down you could feel his dick going limp inside you and you pushed yourself off of him on shaky legs. You managed just enough to pull him out and sit back down on his legs, the blanket around you both preventing you from going any further.

You felt his sperm drip out of you and onto his legs but neither of you cared, too busy trying to catch your breaths.

You let your body fall onto the desk. "Ford?" His hand reached up to your back and he hummed in acknowledgement. "I love you." He chuckled lightly, his voice still breathy. "I love you, too."

[dsireland86]

headcannon of noah taking care of you when depression has taken you under?! i’m feeling rather crap recently and not seeming to dig myself out the depression pit so need some sweet boy noah!

Anon, I know this is a bit late, and I apologize. I hope you're feeling better than you were when you requested this, but if not, hang in there friend. You're loved here ❤️ Hope your request brings a smile to your face.

Taking Care of You

Tag list:

@philomenie @supersquirrel1996 @foliosgirl @angelmarie89 @fadingintothegrey @thisbicc @lma1986 @dominuslunae @shayzillaaaa  @mrsnoahsebastian @flowery-mess @iloveyoutodeathbutimdrowning @stardustsirenmelody @romanreigns-supreme @anything-more-than-human @into-the-grey @rumoured-whispers @myownthoughts12 @sister-sebastian @nyxthedestroyerofworlds-deactiv @missduffsblog @bngurngheart  @somebodyllelse @xxkittenkissesxx @fadingangelwisp

@collisionofyourkissmakesitsohard

He noticed. Noah always noticed everything about you. The light had gone out of your eyes. The smile you normally wore didn't reach your lips. Your complexion, normally bright and shining, was dull and lifeless. It was happening again.

You laid in bed after calling out of work. The blinds were still drawn, making the room darker than it should be. Life was pointless today. You didn't feel like doing it. It was better beneath the blankets, safer and warmer. Nothing could hurt you here. Nothing could make you feel less of yourself than you already felt.

Call after call went unanswered. Noah was worried. Very worried. He got up earlier than normal, planning to leave the studio earlier today, but when you didn't answer plans changed. He had to leave now. Rushing home, thoughts filled Noah's worried mind over how bad it was this time, telling himself he would do whatever he needed to do to help you out of this.

He climbed the stairs silently, holding his breath. The door to your shared bedroom was still closed, just as he left it this morning. Dammit. Noah sighed, running his hand through his hair before opening the door. The room was dark. Rays of sunlight pressed themselves against the windows outside, begging to be let in, but the soul inside wasn't allowing it.

Noah climbed into bed next to you, facing you, watching as your eyes flickered behind their closed lids. You looked peaceful like this, but he knew better. He knew what was happening inside of that beautiful mind of yours. Noah ran his fingertips over the skin of your cheek, over your lips, and up into your hair. You roused, taking a deep breath and reaching for him. He gave you what you wanted; his arm. You wrapped yours around it, holding it close to your chest.

"Let me start you a bath. I can put some lavender oil in it." You nodded without opening your eyes. What felt like hours was only minutes when you felt Noah's arms beneath you, lifting you up and carrying you to the bathroom. Now, fully awake, he undressed you, and helped you into the tub. "Please, come in," you said woefully. "Of course," Noah grinned. With his back against the tub, you laid between his legs, back against his chest, running bubbles through your fingers.

The lack of enthusiasm from you was killing Noah. He wanted to see you smile again and hear you laugh and knew you would in time, but right now, there was no chance. He washed your hair, using his fingers to gently remove the tangles, and washed your body, helping you out once finished. The silence surrounding you both while he dried your hair was crushing, but Noah was hopeful it would return in a few days.

"You should eat," he told you, sitting at the bar in the kitchen after handing you a glass of water. You sat in silence covered in Noah's giant Anime band merch hoodie, picking at your thumbs and staring into nothing. Noah watched you helplessly, smiling at you whenever you would look at him, and each time his heart would break a little more.

"Have you talked to your doctor, maybe see about having your medicine changed?" Noah asked quietly as you laid on the couch with your head in his lap watching tv. "The medicine I'm on works. It's not meant to cure my depression, just help make the episodes less frequent." Noah let his head fall back into the couch. "This is the fourth episode this month, babe," he said gently. "No it's not," you said defensively, sitting up and searching Noah's eyes. "Yeah, it is," he replied softly, laying his hand on top of yours. Your face fell and tears welled up in your eyes. And then the dam burst and you wailed in sorrow, falling into Noah's arms where he held you until the tears stopped and you fell asleep on him.

Noah held your hand as you both sat in the waiting room of the doctor's office. He convinced you enough this time to call your doctor and talk about different medication. With his fingers laced tightly between yours, he sat and listened as you explained your symptoms and how you've been feeling. Hearing some of it wasn't easy to listen to. It crushed him honestly. But he was proud of you for taking the step to get more help and overcoming your fears. Lifting your hand, he placed a kiss on the top of it and for the first time in days, you smiled back at him and he saw the smile finally reach your lips, reassuring him you would be okay.

[starlightkun]

finders keepers ⇢ teaser 2

⇢ teaser word count: 948 | full fic: 37.8k total (22.7k & 15.1k) ⇢ genre: sci-fi/science fantasy au, soulmate au, alien!jungwoo, human!reader, slow burn, fluff and angst ⇢ warnings: blood/injury mentions (but like, alien blood, if that makes a difference?), a couple needle/injection mentions, if u get secondhand embarrassment this one might hurt in places, a couple crude jokes about alien stuff iykwim (reader’s friends r kind of the worst), this fic is just a rlly sweet soulmate au i swear idk why these tags look horrendous 😭 ⇢ extra info: this will be released in two parts bc of tumblr’s 1000-block limit that was put in place to hurt me personally :)) BUT both parts will be released on the same day ⇢ estimated release: saturday, november 30, 2024, 3:00 p.m. eastern time (sign up for my taglist here)

The screen of your phone lit up from where it sat on the dashboard of Jungwoo’s spaceship, and you immediately grabbed it. It was Donghyuck, and at this point, you would’ve taken your bestie ‘SPAM LIKELY’ to get you out of here.

“Hey, it’s Hyuck, you got it here?” You asked Jungwoo, already on your feet.

“Yes, I’ll be okay,” Jungwoo confirmed, eyes momentarily leaving the screen to meet yours.

You clambered out of the hatch with haste, taking off into the trees. Hastily sending Donghyuck a text that you’d call him back in a minute, you practically bolted back up the cliffside to get to the road before doing just that.

Hyuck picked up before it could even ring once, not wasting any time, “Hey, how’s our pet alien?”

“He has a name,” you retorted, still out of breath.

“He doesn’t seem to mind when I call him that.”

“He probably doesn’t understand how derogatory it could be. His language might not have a direct equivalent for the concept.”

“Yeah, whatever, how is he?”

“Fine. All of his wounds have healed.”

Your friend’s tone immediately shifted. “You sound weird. What’s going on?”

“Nothing!” You insisted.

“Y/N.”

“Promise not to tell anyone?”

“Sure.”

And so after explaining your situation to Donghyuck to the best of your ability, you waited with bated breath for his response.

“Oh my God, he’s going to lay his eggs in you,” he gasped.

“Hyuck! Gross!” You hissed, half-ready to hang up right then.

“I’ve seen enough alien movies to know where this is going.”

“Or watched too much weird porn.”

“You didn’t laugh at my joke, clearly you’re in crisis, sorry.” His apology sounded sincere.

You sighed, staring down into the trees below you that you knew contained a spaceship and spaceman that weren’t from here, that didn’t belong here. “I mean, he’s still fixing his ship to leave…”

“What if he plans on abducting you and taking you with him?”

“Stop it!” You scolded him again. “Jungwoo wouldn’t do that.”

“You seriously think he’ll just leave his mate behind?”

“You are way too comfortable saying that word.”

“This is not about my nighttime proclivities.”

“If I told him to, yeah, I think he would. He’s been super respectful, all things considered.”

“Okay… whatever…”

You were worried. Jungwoo had continued fixing his ship, but with each passing day, you swore he was looking worse again. He said his wounds had completely healed inside and out, but the pallor of his skin didn’t look right, he was moving slower again, and he didn’t eat as much at meals. You took a risk and took him there during the day today, not wanting to risk drawing out his stay on Earth any longer than necessary.

Just getting him down to the ship today was perilous, as he tripped going down the last of the hillside. A rock had cut his arm, thankfully not very deep, but the sight of the deep blue blood did nothing to calm your anxious mind. He let you take a second to use a first aid kit in the ship on him, but then was right back to business as usual, fixing his ship.

“How’s it coming along?” You asked, hovering over him worriedly as he sat on the floor, working on a panel under the control console.

“It’s almost done,” he informed you quietly.

“Jungwoo, you don’t look okay.”

“I’m fine.”

“Is it the hydrogen? Or something else that you can’t get on Earth?” You went to press the back of your hand to his forehead. It was sticky with sweat, but simultaneously cold and clammy. “Shit, dude, you feel awful.”

“I’m—I’ll be fine.”

“Are you sure?”

“Yes, I just need to get back to-to Galaria.”

“Okay, yeah,” you nodded. “Let’s get you back. You said it’s almost done. What else do you need?”

“One of your friends is a mechanic?”

“Yeah, Yuta. He fixes cars.” You were slightly alarmed that he apparently couldn’t remember which one.

Jungwoo held out a long, thin black tube to you. “Could you ask him if he has something like this? Twice as long?”

“Of course! I'll go right now!” You took the tube from him. “You stay right here. Rest, okay?”

He nodded, leaning against the panel and shutting his eyes.

You ran into Yuta’s auto shop, skidding to a stop and nearly crashing into a bench and toolbox, drawing the attention of everyone in the shop. Every head whipped over to look at you, and Yuta pushed himself out from under a truck on the far side of the shop.

“Yuta!” You dashed over to him, ignoring the attempts at conversation from his coworkers as you ran by them.

“Off-limits, assholes!” Yuta yelled back at them before focusing on you again, grabbing a rag to wipe his hands off. “Y/N, what are you doing here?”

“It’s Jungwoo, he needs something like this, but double the length.” You held the tube out to him. “Do you have anything like it? I’ll pay for it.”

Yuta inspected it with a furrowed brow, and you dropped your voice even lower as the sounds of the auto shop rose again.

“Please, he’s-he’s really not doing well. I don’t know how much longer he can be here, Yuta. Something about Earth, it’s not good for him. I’m really worried.”

“Yeah, I would be if I were you.” Yuta handed the tube back to you, then crossed his arms over his chest. “I gave him a part just like that two days ago. He said it was the last piece he needed.”

“What?!” Your heart fell to the pit of your stomach.

“I gave him a new brake hose two days ago. Unless he blew it up again, this isn’t it.”

“I’ve got to go.” You took off towards the door of the garage. “Bye, Yuta! Thanks!”

“See you around!”

TEASER TAGLIST

@bee-the-loser @ppddpjdr @tearinka @yoursyuno @yutasputa69 @winkeuu

[resident-idiot-simp]

holds out my hands so politely id LOVE the darker version of the victor catching origins poolverine,,

*evil cackling* Your wish is my command.

Darker origins Deadclaws caught in the act by Victor

Original

Tw for: Abuse and hints of one sided incest. It is not graphic or expanded upon I promise (Victor is just a fucked up individual ok)

Victor had misplaced Jimmy much to his displeasure and it wasn't going to be good once he found him again.

The camp was mostly quiet as he made his way around it searching for the runt. He had some nerve not telling him where he was going.

Everyone knew not to bother him or Jimmy without a damn good reason so it didn't make sense why the runt was not by his side where he belonged. It was an unwritten rule that the two of them were to be together always just like it had always been.

Jimmy was his and he always would be and he'd eventually wear down the runt enough to expect that and everything it included. The runt still had fight in him which is admirable but it was too much for his taste.

He wanted more out of the runt and he would get it. It would just take a bit more time. He found himself growing at the idea and stopped himself.

He eventually caught the runt's scent and started to follow it deeper into the forest. The familiar sound of panting breath and fumbling hands caught his ears and he had to stop the bone chilling snarl that tried to worm its way up his throat.

The bastard runt better not be doing what he thought he was. Sure enough the runt was being treated like a damn cat in heat by none other then Wilson.

It was pathetic and Victor felt the bone deep envy. It should be him.

Victor finally let out the growl he was holding back and the runt flinched hard eyes going wide with fear. Wilson too realizes he's absolutely fucked as he looks up.

The runt started trying to scoot away and Wilson the fool tried to get between the brothers. Victor hardly payed him any mind as he easily shoved Wilson aside and grabbed the runt by the back of his neck and slammed his head against a tree with a snarl.

"What a fucking sight. You whore yourself out to anyone huh? This is just pathetic Jimmy." Victor cooed down at him.

The runt said nothing eyes not meeting his. Wilson managed to get up and snarl at him, "Let him go Creed."

Victor just raised an eyebrow at him, "Out of everyone you choose him? That's even more pathetic than usual for you."

Wilson snarled and tried to get Victor to let Jimmy go. The runt still hadn't said a word as he shook slightly. He knew he was in trouble. Victor just smiled at the runt with far to many teeth.

"You know you don't have to go out searching like a cat in heat." Victor cruned and Jimmy let out a distressed noises that got him a backhand across the face.

Wilson looked like he wanted to be sick, "Your fucked in the head Creed that's your damn brother."

"I'm sorry." Jimmy apologized his voice shaking, he would usually put up more of a fight, but he knew if he did Victor would be more than happy to kill Wade in retaliation. Victor hummed to himself unpleased.

"Wade just leave please." Jimmy pleaded, Wilson looked like he wanted to do anything but that, "FUCK NO I'M NOT LEAVING YOU WITH HIM!" He snarled.

Victor finally made eye contact with the runt and the bastard took it for what it was.

"Wade leave before he kills you." Jimmy said more solidly.

Wade locked frantic eyes with him.

"Last chance Wilson. " Creed warned.

"You won't touch him like that." Wilson threatened, "Of course not but he'll beg for it one day." Creed dismissed.

The runt and Wilson shared one last look before Wilson scammed off.

Tags: @shy-canadian-snowflake

[georgeharrisonsmiling]

This isn’t exactly a George related ask but I saw your tags on the post where John and Yoko said George wasn’t intelligent, and one thing I’ve found very interesting as I’ve watched more John interviews and then the reactions of the other Beatles is how much Grace particularly George and Ringo gave John. I saw an interview recently where John called Ringo’s music embarrassing and said he felt embarrassed when working with him (post Beatles solo stuff). There’s a lot of talk about how John and Paul were publicly spatting throughout the 70s, and a lot of attention from the 80s onward on Paul’s comments and defenses of John, but I see practically nothing from George or Ringo. With George I think part of it is he probably didnt think he had as much of a “right” to John’s legacy as Yoko or Paul, and thus didn’t insert himself as much, but it’s also interesting how George would seemingly not publicly comment but internalize John’s words (I mean, the whole debacle of John being left out of I Me Mine after countless comments about how no one’s contributions to his/pauls songs counted plus at the time saying he didn’t want to be involved with George is a great example)

As you said, John mentioned his embarrassment with some of Ringo's work (especially Ringo's first album) and he also said in 1980 that if he made a bad song, he could always give it to Ringo. Though honestly between lawsuits, diss songs and affairs, a couple of comments were nothing in comparison so Ringo opted to keep the peace and decided to focus on the many nice that John did say.

Maybe it's because I haven't actually investigated a lot about them but I don't think that Paul and John were publicly feuding that much in the 70s. Most things calmed down after ‘How do you sleep’ and then John didn't give many interviews for years. We know that John had strong opinions but most of them came out after he was killed. The conflict in later interviews was more about who wrote what in the Lennon-McCartney partnership but even then his comments weren't that bad.

I don't think it's mentioned often how jealous John got about George's career not only because of the commercial success of ATMP, also of the image that George was projecting at the time. Just one example: John was the one who quit the band first but people don't often say that "John was freed" when the band broke up the same way we talk about George. I think that jealousy is what made him lash out so much to George in interviews. Another factor is of course the Lennon-McCartney myth. Paul was allowed to be John's rival because the two of them were the extraordinary talents but George was never supposed to be on the same level. The other thing I think annoyed John was just how well George survived and thrived without his help.

George definitely gave John a lot of grace. George mentioned once that John would apologize in private sometimes so I guess that was one reason. Another one is that George disliked the gossiping around the Beatles so much that George didn't make many statements that he didn't mean while John was often changing his mind. I think that George just preferred to keep their relationship private and answer only what he was asked to.

If John had lived, that playboy interview would probably have impacted their relationship in some way. One important thing is that George was never ashamed of "I me mine" and he always defended his choice of not mentioning what John wanted.

[wavesalwayscrash]

Correct me if I’m wrong (maybe I’m projecting from the human AU or something) but does Condor and Crane’s relationship teeter between familial and intimate? I tried to find where my brain held onto that concept but I couldn’t find it in the tags! (Apologies if it’s too spoilery)

Also what is it about Warbler that Condor and Crane found intriguing enough to make her a part of their weird family? I’m sure they’re were plenty of other orphans to choose from! She seems like a cutie, but I except she’s going to be someone who’s going to take a lot of convincing when she’s exposed to the entire deal that comes with being close to crane and condor. Did one of them know her old family?

For the Crane and Condor part: yes <3

As for Warbler: I'm sure there were tons of orphans in the war like you said, and no they didn't know her family, but Warbler was the lone survivor of her colony's massacre (They would not join the King's army. They fought and lost horribly). Crane saw the aftermath and took in Warbler, promising her safety and a family. Warbler was eager to take on any kind of mother figure/community after losing her own, to return to any semblance of normalcy. Little did she know Crane and Condor are a couple of freaks!!

[traceofexistence]

told you, you would catch a block but you still replied

your last post is even worst than your first

reading comprehension has to do with you putting words in my mouth

reading comprehension again this was not in response to anything other than this bs:

I said: 90s anime committed anti-gay crimes you said: so those of us who like it means we are committing the same crimes

a thing I never said, I never even thought, you just go on and make up stories yourself to be mad about

yeah your half assed apology was overwritten when you put words in my mouth (case in point the above accusation)

the post you first reblogged from me to cry about your precious ikuhara, has the translation of what was said, you just elected to paint me a lair instead of asking what I meant.

again thinking things I never thought myself and blaming for them.

diffusing tension requires for you to not put words in my mouth

and yet

you do it again:

I've never in this thread or anywhere else claimed that someone has to agree with me.

this entire back and forth with you has been

-you calling me a lair -me providing evidence of my words -you putting words in my mouth -and you doubling down on your habit of putting words in my mouth.

one thing e agree on is that last row tag:

FUCK!

People are mad at this! The comments! Oooo Boy

[nerdallwritey]

Worth the Peril

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

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

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

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

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

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

Gods, you hated him.

And you loved him.

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

Your eyes flicked over to his tent momentarily. 

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

You sighed heavily. “I know.”

~~~~~

It hadn’t been as bad as you thought.

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

“You would.”

“Ass hat.”

“Loud mouth.”

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

“Looks abandoned,” you supplied.

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

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

“I smell a trap,” he warned.

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

You nodded and turned to Shadowheart. “You?”

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

“Speak for yourself,” Astarion rolled his eyes. 

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

Animate Dead. 

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

You heard your name roared from somewhere up above.

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

“Guys,” you said one more time.

Then everything went black.

~~~~~

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

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

And right now, he was entering a rage.

Red. 

That was all he saw. 

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

He hadn’t witnessed it.

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

“Hi,” you said weakly.

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

Astarion sighed. “I know,” he admitted.

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

Astarion nodded and took off back towards the Myconid colony.

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

“Tell me!” he exclaimed.

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

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

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

“Astarion?” It was Wyll.

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

“And me?” Karlach asked. 

“Can you heat up some water?”

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

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

“Well?” Astarion asked impatiently. 

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

No.

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

“She’s so weak,” he murmured. 

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

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

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

“And what-”

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

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

“She shouldn’t.”

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

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

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

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

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

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

“Yes!” Astarion snapped.

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

~~~~~

Everything is going to be okay.

How could that be true when you were drowning?

Surrounded by inky blackness. Floating through nothingness.

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

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

Idiot.

You were an idiot. 

The person had looked so scared. 

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

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

Whoever they were. 

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

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

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

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

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

Easy, now. 

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

Sleep now.

It hurts.

I’ll be here when you’re ready. 

Please.

~~~~~

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

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

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

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

Now, however, that wasn’t the case.

Halsin and Shadowheart were quick to check on you. 

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

“Likely fighting a possible infection,” Halsin hypothesized.

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

Love?

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

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

Right?

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

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

He paused and narrowed his eyes in thought. 

That was troubling.

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

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

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

His favorite.

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

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

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

“Yes,” he answered.

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

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

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

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

“Do go on, then.”

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

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

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

“Holding hands?” Astarion batted his eyelashes.

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

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

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

“Of course I have,” Astarion snapped. 

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

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

“Pain is a part of life, Astarion.”

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

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

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

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

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

“You care for her.” 

“So what?” 

“You’re aware of that?”

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

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

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

“You’re allowed to love her.”

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

“It is,” she laughed softly. 

“Poor girl.”

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

“That’s typical.”

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

“No.”

“And probably never will.”

“Fingers crossed.”

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

“I wouldn’t say that.”

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

Astarion’s grip on you tightened minutely.

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

“What does that-”

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

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

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

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

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

~~~~~

Darkness.

All consuming and quiet.

But at least the pain had stopped. 

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

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

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

What are you dreaming about in there?

Are you going to wake up anytime soon, darling?

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

It was exhausting.

You felt someone squeeze your hand distantly.

Brought a book. 

Your head instinctively turned towards the voice.

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

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

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

Vampire… why did that word send your heart racing?

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

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

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

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

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

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

The voice was growing louder. More clear.

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

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

The hand holding yours tightened mildly. 

I’m here, darling.

I know. Thank you.

It took a moment before the voice started speaking again.

“Lease love and family behind.” 

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

Family?

Love?

Love…

Oh.

The voice was quieter when it spoke again. 

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

Astarion. 

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

He was here. 

With you. 

Just out of reach.

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

Astarion! you tried to say. I’m here!

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

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

Astarion! you tried again.

Nothing. You were met with silence. 

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

Shall I continue reading, darling?

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

Astarion! you all but wailed.

“-the gusto of their love-”

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

You smiled. “I guess not.”

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

You nodded, holding his gaze.

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

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

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

“I heard you, you know.”

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

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

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

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

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

“The worst,” you agreed. 

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

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

Astarion slapped your hand. “Stop that.”

“Sorry.”

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

“You can’t-”

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

“Thorough,” you commented.

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

You smiled. “You liiiiike me.”

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

“Liar.” 

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

“I know you do,” you chuckled. 

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

“Careful,” he warned.

“How?” you asked.

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

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

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

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

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

“You’ll kill me?”

“Without a second thought, my sweet.”

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

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

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

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

“What?”

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

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

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

You shoveled some more stew into your mouth shamefully.

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

“I can’t help it,” you said quietly. 

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

“Okay,” you whispered.

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

“Poor beastie.”

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

“You bit my lip!”

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

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

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

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

“But of course.”

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

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

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

He groaned loudly. “If I must.”

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

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

“I’ll be careful,” you said.

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

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

“I’m okay,” you assured. “Just cold.”

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

“What was that, my love?”

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

“You… were scared? You?”

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

You weren’t sure how to process that. 

Astarion.

Scared, on your behalf.

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

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

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

“I carried you here.”

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

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

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

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

“And then you… carried me.”

“Yes.”

“All the way here.”

“Yes.”

“And then?”

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

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

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

You watched him carefully.

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

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

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

“I’m touched,” you joked again.

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

Astarion looked taken aback. “Erm…”

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

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

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

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

Oh.

Oh.

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

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

Did that mean he… loved you?

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

“If that scares you-”

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

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

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

Astarion gave you a look as if to say really?

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

“And for good reason, might I add.”

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

“I couldn’t reach you,” you said.

“When?” Astarion lifted his head slightly.

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

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

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

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

“Any tips?”

“Hmm… not really.”

“Thanks.”

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

“You need your rest, too.”

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

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

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

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

But you knew how you felt.

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

Astarion groaned. “Really?”

“Yes.”

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

“I said I would stay awake with you.”

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

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

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

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

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

“You’re so heroic.”

“Mmm.”

“And handsome.”

“Mhm.” He inhaled and exhaled deeply.

“Thank you for staying by my side.”

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

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

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

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

“I love that noise,” you smiled. 

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

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

“I love you, Astarion.”

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

[killjoy-prince]

House M.D. but it's when a character says the name of the episode

[r0semultiverse]

Small indie artists in need of support for moving out by September!

💜 These lovely folks [@QuinsCurse (they/them) & @sswitchblade03 (xe/xem and he/him)] are part of a small queer-owned Youtube community I'm in. 💖

💖 If you could lend a helping hand by reblogging & queueing this post up until the start of September, I'd greatly appreciate it & I'm sure these fine folks would too! 💜

⚠️ Do not tag as d*nations or anything like that! ⚠️

"Hi everyone! Requests are officially closed as I am opening emergency commissions! Please consider supporting me as we are getting kicked out and have managed to find a place that’s affordable but need to save up 5k by the end of the month! Anything helps! I also have a dontations page if you are willing to help do that! All the money received from commissions will be going to the deposit! https://ko-fi.com/quinscurse/commissions https://ko-fi.com/quinscurse/goal?g=32"

⚠️ Do not tag as d*nations or anything like that! ⚠️

"https://ko-fi.com/sswitchblade03/commissions https://ko-fi.com/sswitchblade03/goal?g=0 EMERGENCY COMMISSIONS!! My roommate ‪@QuinsCurse‬and I are needing about $5000CAD for a down payment on a new place as we need to be out of our current place by September! Every bit counts! My goal is to be set to $3000CAD. I will draw anything (coloured and rendered) for $5 CAD each! If you are willing to give more it will be appreciated. Examples of my work below!"

⚠️ Do not tag as d*nations or anything like that! ⚠️

[miyuskye]

I found this scene in particular so odd and out of place in the new episode. Apart from the fact that Stolas has no right to be angry at Blitz for "not saving him" when Striker kidnapped him nor to be upset that he didn't tell him about Striker's attempt at shooting him. In Loo Loo Land he's perfectly capable of defending himself (even when he hired Blitz for protection!), why is he complaining that an imp, the lowest class on the hierarchy isn't protecting one of the highest?

In that scene Stolas accuses Blitz of not understanding "how much he cared about him", but has he forgotten that he was the one who couldn't stand up not to Asmodeous nor to the accusations of him "sleeping with an imp"?

This reaction shows the actual opposite of what he's telling Blitz he did.

I read that Stolas is supposedly also not aware of ~things~ but why is the narrative conveniently forgetting about his faults as well?

Onto the "apology tour" subject: I fail to understand why Blitz owes Stolas an apology. The only time he was shitty to him was actually in Ozzie's when he asked him on a (fake) date without telling him all the story. But they didn't talk about that not during that episode neither during Apology Tour. Is it because doing this would have forced the narrative to acknowledge that also Stolas was at fault during that episode?

All the other times they interacted (on and off screen, their chats don't really mean anything since it seems that's the way Blitz writes in general), Blitz was being good to him (not that he had any other choice, due to their society ranks and their deal).

To me, this looks like bad writing. But if someone has a different take, I'm happy to hear their interpretation.

[acourtofquestions]

Rowaelin Chapter 41 Kingdom of Ash:

She'd rebuild it—what she had been.

Perhaps one last time, perhaps only for a little while, but she'd do it. If only for Terrasen.

Rowan swooped from the mast, shifting as he reached her side at the rail. He surveyed the night-black sea beyond them. "You should rest." She slid him a glance. "I'm not tired." Not a lie, not in some regards. "Want to spar?" He frowned. "Training can start tomorrow."

"Or tonight." She held his piercing stare, matched his dominance with her own.

"It can wait a few hours, Aelin."

"Every day counts." Against Erawan, even a day of training would count.

Rowan's jaw tightened. "True," he said at last. "But it can still wait. There are ... there are things we need to discuss." The silent words rose in his animal-bright eyes. About you and me.

Her mouth went dry. But Aelin nodded In silence, they strode into their spacious quarters, its only decoration the wall of windows that overlooked the churning sea behind them. A far cry from a queen's chamber, or any she might have purchased as Adarlan's assassin.

At least the bed built into the wall looked clean enough, the sheets crisp and stainless. But Aelin headed for the oak desk anchored to the floor, and leaned against it while Rowan shut the door.

In the dim lantern light, they stared at each other.

She'd endured Maeve and Cairn; she'd endured Endovier and countless other horrors and losses. She could have this conversation with him. The first step toward rebuilding herself.

Aelin knew Rowan could hear her thundering heart as the space between them went taut. She swallowed once. "Elide and Lorcan told you... told you everything that was said on that beach."

A curt nod, wariness flooding his eyes. "Everything that Maeve said." Another nod.

She braced herself. "That I'm-we're mates."

Understanding and something like relief replaced that wariness. "Yes."

"I'm your mate," she said, needing to voice it. "And you are mine."

Rowan crossed the room, but halted a few feet from the desk on which she leaned. "What of it, Aelin?" His question was low, rough.

"Don't you..." She scrubbed at her face. "You know what she did to you, to ..." She couldn't say her name. Lyria. "Because of it."

"I do know."

"And?"

"And what do you wish me to say?"

She pushed off the desk. "I wish you to tell me how you feel about it. If…"

"If what?"

"If you wish it wasn't so."

His brows narrowed. "Why would I ever wish that?"

She shook her head, unable to answer, and stared over her shoulder toward the sea.

It seemed like he would close the distance between them, but he remained where he was.

"Aelin." His voice turned hoarse. "Aelin."

She looked at him then, at the pain in his words.

"Do you know what I wish?" He exposed his palms, one tattooed, the other unmarked. "I wish that you had told me. When you realized it. I wish you had told me then."

She swallowed against the ache in her throat. "I didn't want to hurt you."

"Why would it ever hurt me to know the truth that was already in my heart? The truth I hoped for?"

"I didn't understand it. I didn't understand how it was possible. I thought maybe ... maybe you might be able to have two mates within a lifetime, but even then, I just ….." She blew out a breath. "I didn't want you to be distressed." His eyes softened. "Do I regret that Lyria was dragged into this, that the cost of Maeve's game was her life, and the life of the child we might have had? Yes. I regret that, and I wish it had never happened." He would bear the tattoo to remember it for the rest of his days. "But none of that was your fault. I will always carry some of the burden of it, always know I chose to leave her for war and glory, and that I played right into Maeve's hands."

"Maeve wanted to ensnare you to get to me, though."

"Then it is her choice, not yours."

Aelin ran a hand over the worn wood of the desk. "In those illusions she spun for me, she showed me variations on one more than all the others." The words were strained, but she forced them out. Forced herself to look at him. "She spun me one dreamscape that felt so real I could smell the wind off the Staghorns."

"What did she show you?" A breathless question.

Aelin had to swallow before she could answer. "She showed me what might have been—if there had been no Erawan, if Elena had dealt with him properly and banished him. If there had been no Lyria, none of that pain or despair you endured. She showed me Terrasen as it would have been today, with my father as king, and my childhood happy, and..." Her lips wobbled. "When I turned twenty, you came with a delegation of Fae to Terrasen, to make amends for the rift between my mother and Maeve. And you and I took one look at each other in my father's throne room, and we knew."

She didn't fight the stinging in her eyes. "I wanted to believe that was the true world. That this was the nightmare from which I'd awaken. I wanted to believe that there was a place where you and I had never known this suffering and loss, where we'd take one look at each other and know we were mates. Maeve told me she could make it so. If I gave her the keys, she'd make it all possible." She wiped at her cheek, at the tear that escaped down it. "She spun me realities where you were dead, where you'd been killed by Erawan and only in handing over the keys to her would I be able to avenge you. But those realities made me ... I stopped being useful to her when she told me you were gone. She couldn't get me to talk, to think. Yet in the ones where you and I met, where things were as they should have been ... that was when I came the closest."

His swallow was audible. "What stopped you?"

She wiped at her face again. "The male I fell in love with was you. It was you, who knew pain as I did, and who walked with me through it, back to the light. Maeve didn't understand that. That even if she could create that perfect world, it wouldn't be you with me. And I'd never trade that, trade this. Not for anything." He extended his hand. An offer and invitation.

Aelin laid hers atop his, and his callused fingers squeezed gently. "I wanted it to be you," he breathed, closing his eyes. "For months and months, even in Wendlyn, I wondered why you weren't my mate instead. It tore me up, wondering it, but I still did." He opened his eyes, and they burned like green fire. "All this time, I wanted it to be you."

She lowered her gaze, but he hooked a thumb and forefinger around her chin and lifted her face.

"I know you are tired, Fireheart. I know that the burden on your shoulders is more than anyone should endure." He took their joined hands and laid them on his heart. "But we'll face this together. Erawan, the Lock, all of it.

"We'll face it together. And when we are done, when you Settle, we will have a thousand years together. Longer."

A small sound came out of her. "Elena said the Lock requires—"

"We'll face it together," he swore again.

"And if the cost of it truly is you, then we'll pay it together. As one soul in two bodies.

Her heart strained to the point of cleaving. "Terrasen needs a king."

"I have no intention of ruling Terrasen without you. Aedion can have the job."

She scanned his face. He meant every word He brushed the hair from her face, his other hand still clasping hers to his chest, where his heart pounded a steady, unfaltering rhythm.

"Even if I had my choice of any dream-realities, any perfect illusions, I would still choose you, too."

She felt the truth of his words echo into the unbreakable thing that bound their very souls, and tilted her face up toward his. But he made no move beyond it.

She frowned. "Why aren't you kissing me?"

"I thought you might want to be asked first."

"That never stopped you before."

"This first time, I wanted to make sure you were ... ready." After Cairn and Maeve. After months of having no choices whatsoever.

She smiled despite that truth. "I'm ready to be kissed again, Prince."

He let out a dark chuckle and muttered, "Thank the gods," before he lowered his mouth to hers.

"You're my mate." Her words were a breathless rush. "And I am yours."

The world might have been burning around them for all she cared, all he cared, too.

"Together, Aelin," he promised, and she heard the rest of the words in every place their bodies joined. Together they would face this, together they would find a way.

Together we'll find a way, their mingling breaths, the crashing sea, seemed to echo.

Together.

[al-luviec]

still haven't moved on from zane in this episode (aka I hit tag limit again and am unhappy about it)

[memento-morri-writes]

This is far from my best work, but it's 1:30am, and I needed to get this down before I slept or lost my mind. So here, take a snippet of Rook seeing Zara again for the first time in 3 years.

Trying, and failing, to keep his voice from shaking, [Rook] said “Hello, Captain.” Mouth still open in surprise, [Zara] replied “Well, hello yourself.” The reality of what she was seeing seemed to hit her as she rounded the desk. “Rook, is that really you?” He nodded. “It’s me.” Zara ran towards him, stopping just short of touching him, and said “What did she do to you?” Rook’s heart stuttered and he had to brush his fingers together to confirm Sigmar’s ring was still in place. Could she possibly see through its illusion? But then he remembered what Lanny had said. She knew where you were. His throat clenched and he choked out “Two years.” A wave of grief swept across Zara’s face as she said “I’m so, so sorry.” Rook shook his head vigorously. “It’s not your fault.” Zara ignored him. “It is my fault. I failed you. As your captain, it’s my responsibility to keep you safe, and I failed you.” Rook wanted to say something, to reassure her, but she pushed on. “She sent me letters, told me all the terrible things she was doing to you. I… I let you down.” Those words hit Rook with the force of a dozen cannonballs. Lanny had said that Zara knew Wolf had him, but knowing that Zara had been aware of what Wolf was doing to him… somehow that was more painful than any wound Wolf had ever inflicted. He barely managed to force his next words out around the lump in his throat. “Where were you?” And why didn’t you come? “She said she’d kill you if I came to get you. Or if I hired anyone to get you. You’re standing here because I stopped sailing.” 

(honorary one-time tag for @space-writes bc I remember you enjoyed my other bits about Rook and Zara.)

[melancholic-pigeon]

Alright, this is my last comment on the issue, for real this time.

@nerdykeppie is staffed by unprofessional, rude, cruel people who double down on their entitlement to be unprofessional, rude and cruel in public to their former customers.

You should know the sorts of people you're giving money to if you patronize them. The founder is liable to misread your words, lash out at you in anger over something he misunderstood, and generally behave like a tantruming child even if you go out of your way to be polite and give him the benefit of the doubt when he lashes out at you over his own poor reading comprehension.

I'm done getting into this. No, Spider is not ~required~ to be professional on his (public) personal blog which is closely tied to his business. I just think it's extremely stupid to double down on his "right" to be unprofessional on his public blog when he owns a business that is clearly tied to said public blog, because it reflects very poorly on both his personal character and his business. I think it is hilariously foolish and an extremely poor decision to openly advertise and defend your founder's unprofessionalism, which speaks of general lack of professionalism and poor judgment throughout the whole business, not just from Spider (though his lack of good judgment and public unprofessionalism is the most obvious).

So. Best of luck in the people involved resolving whatever problem in their lives that they're taking out on me, and beware interacting with them in any way because they will absolutely be rude as shit to you and then smear you in public and private for (/checks hand) apologizing for a miscommunication because you didn't mean what they incorrectly interpreted you to mean.

I can't fucking believe they still think they're in the right here and *I* am the one who needs to be ~asked not to contact them again~. You answered me THREE TIMES *after* I had blocked you because you cannot let go of the fact that you were wrong about a stupid fucking plastic pumpkin and the fact that I went OUT OF MY WAY to give you the benefit of the doubt.

(two of those three asks were frantic apologies because I genuinely felt terrible, and they were both met with meanness and scorn and snide insults about my communication failures.

Lol. Me. I'm the one who is failing to communicate and has poor reading comprehension because you misunderstood me and started lashing out like I personally strangled all of your pets for having the filthy nerve to apologize and try to clear it up.

Yeah. I'm the villain here. Sure, Jan.)

I'm done now, but enjoy having your unprofessional, cruel, immature nonsense publicly exposed. I stand by my actions (the ones I actually took in real life, not the fake pretend ones you made up because you misunderstood what I wrote) and I look forward to you experiencing the natural consequences of your own.

Don't give money to childish jerks.