#iamnicodemus

[mikavlcs]

I saw an Instagram comment about how Miguel is basically "what if Wattpad made Spider-Man" and I can't stop thinking about it LMAO

Dark, brooding, handsome, messed up backstory, kinda unhinged but has a soft side (bro wanted to be a dad), vampire fangs and claws

STOPPPKDJHEJS THATS SO 😭😭😭

[i984]

I heard Lou memes are on the menu now, so here's my contribution

ANSWERING THIS REAL QUICK EVEN WHEN I'VE GOT TO DO A THING BECAUSE FRIEND. THANK YOU FOR THE MEME. also true story pls do not give me angst i will cry

[i984]

Honestly. You put me to absolutely shame with your words. The way you paint an adventure so freely, so captivating I forgot I was sitting on my bed with extreme back pain. Envy seem to swallow me whole every single day, and tonight I succumb to it. YOUR TALENT IS TO DIE FOR AND I CAN RETIRE JUST LIKE THIS AFTER READING YOUR FIC.

This fic was perfection, and I can't imagine how your future works will wow the audience. YOU ARE AN INCREDIBLE WRITER AND I WILL DIE NOW. THANK YOU AND GOODBYE.

Dragonfire

Pairing: Dragon!Wednesday Addams x Knight!Gender Neutral Reader

Summary: After a dragon attack leaves a village on edge, a wandering knight is tasked with slaying the great beast. When the knight enters the dragon's lair, however, they something quite different than the winged horror they expected...

A/N: This is an alternate, high fantasy universe where Wednesday Addams is a shapeshifting dragon. This is also my first ever fic on this site and my first time ever writing from this PoV (it's also barely proofread, lol). I hope you enjoy, and please feel free to leave feedback. As always, likes, comments, and reblogs are appreciated.

When you’d entered through the mouth of a cave near the summit and made your descent into the hollows of the mountain, you’d expected that your journey would eventually bring you face-to-face with a dragon. You wouldn’t have come to this godsforsaken place otherwise — navigating winding, uneven stone corridors and ducking under stalactites that looked to have been polished to razor perfection. After a recent incident in which a great black dragon had sundered much of the fertile fields surrounding a nearby village, the leaders of said village had called for the monster’s head. You, a traveling knight errant, were the only one brave enough to rise to the occasion. You’d been tasked with searching the mountain where it supposedly dwelled and slaying it without mercy. The reward? A handsome sum of gold and a great accolade under your belt, both of which were invaluable to you. 

Work had not come by easily as of late. More often than not, you were forced to set up meager camps in the woods due to being unable to afford a room at an inn. You slept on a rough bedroll on the grass, your throat parched and stomach aching with hunger most nights before you drifted off into a dreamless sleep. Assuming, of course, that the surrounding wildlife allowed you to rest without fear, or that highwaymen wouldn’t happen upon your position. Both had occurred on numerous occasions, and your armor still bore the scuffs and dings from each encounter.

This mission was an opportunity to change all of that, for good. Either you’d claim the dragon’s head and be eating like a king for a good while, you’d meet your end in a hellish blaze, or — if you’d refused the mission — you’d be a week or two away from living in squalor. The first two possibilities were largely preferable to the third.

The air grew colder the lower you descended through the cave, A deep silence filled the cavern, broken only by the clang of your iron boots against stone. The noise wasn’t ideal. You’d hoped to approach the monster quietly, perhaps finding it curled up in its chamber, fast asleep. The way your footfalls were sounding, however, you’d be lucky if it weren’t wide awake and lying in wait for you. You half expected it to come racing up the cavern any moment now, its maw opened wide with anticipation, purple flames waiting to erupt from its throat.

Your heart hammered beneath your beige tunic and iron cuirass. You kept your sword raised at all times, taking what little comfort you could from behind the slim protection it offered. In your other hand you carried a lantern, creating a cone of light in what would’ve otherwise been pitch darkness.

After what felt like an eternity of wandering through the semidark, you finally spotted an incandescent light pouring out from the vaulted entryway at the end of the passage. This was it! The dragon’s lair. Excitement and apprehension knotted up in your chest as you made your approach. You weren’t sure when you started running. Your boots pounded against the ground, the lantern swinging wildly in your grasp at your side. Your breath hitched, and then, you emerged—

—into a long, rectangular chamber that looked less like the vast, bone-littered lair of a dragon, and more like an eccentric aristocrat’s dreary getaway. To say you were baffled would be an understatement.

Flaming sconces and dark tapestries lined the smooth, limestone walls. A chair and table, both looking to be hewn from slate, were set up in a corner. Upon the table sat a large stack of parchment and a black-feathered quill beside it. A viol and its bow were leaned against the far wall.

What stood out most, however, was the coffin-shaped bed in the middle of the chamber — and the human shape resting atop it.

You inched closer, sword at the ready. Laying on a black pillow and linen sheet, arms crossed over her chest like a corpse before burial, was a girl that looked to be your age. She was almost porcelain pale, with merlot lips and raven hair styled in a parted fringe and two tightly wound braids that hung at opposite sides of her head.

Despite the confusion welling up in you and the strained atmosphere that came with hunting a dragon, you’d be lying if you said your heart didn’t skitter upon seeing her. She was absolutely gorgeous, and the thought nearly revolted you because you weren’t yet sure if she was fast asleep, or if you were looking upon a well-preserved corpse.

Who was she, even? A captive of the monster? She looked to be a noblewoman of some sort, if the fine, pitch-black kirtle and white chemise adorning her were any indication. And yet you hadn’t heard anything about the dragon kidnapping anyone, let alone someone of nobility. And what was up with the furnishings in here? Since when did dragons care about those?

None of this made sense. Had you scaled the wrong mountain, stumbled through the wrong cave, and trespassed on a particularly refined hermit’s home? No, this was definitely the mountain you’d been directed to. The dragon had last been seen prowling around the summit before disappearing into its depth, not that you could for the life of you figure out how such a large creature managed to squeeze through this narrow, rocky deathtrap of a cave system.

Her eyes shot open.

“How long are you going to stand there staring? I’d like to continue sleeping without a loud, toy soldier in tin plate hovering over me.”

A yelp almost escaped you. You startled back, sword almost slipping from your grasp.

The girl abruptly sat up and pinned you with a searching gaze. You froze. The way she studied you — through dark brown eyes that seemed as though they could dissect you with naught but a look - was unnerving. Yet, you could not bring yourself to look away. Your skin flushed with heat and your heart raced.

“Why are you here?” she asked, her voice perfectly even.

“Uh, I’m, er—” Damn it, why were you stuttering? “I’m looking for the….dragon?”

You felt silly saying it aloud, even more so under the gaze of this stranger. You must’ve been given bad information, because there was no logical way a fully-fledged dragon could dwell in a cramped place like this.

She didn’t react at all to your statement. In fact, her angular face remained clear of any emotion. Not how most would react to news of a winged, firebreathing beast in the area.

“And why have you come looking for me?”

For me.

Your brows drew into a frown. Had she misspoken?

You soon got your answer as she slid out of the oddly shaped bed, her right hand raised. Suddenly, her black-painted nails started to elongate, curving into razor talons. You watched in horror as a layer of obsidian black scales sprouted across her hand. Her stare never left you.

Your blood ran cold. You raised your sword reflexively, leveling the tip to her throat.

She moved like a streak of lightning, crossing the chamber in the space of a breath and swiping the sword from your hand. The blade shattered beneath the force of her clawed strike, littering the ground with iron shards. All that remained in your grasp was a leather-bound hilt, wholly useless in the face of the girl you now took to be the very dragon you were hunting. Somehow, she’d transformed into a human, or at least wore the guise of one.

You swallowed thickly. Despite the fact that she was shorter than you, her presence loomed higher than anyone you’d ever met.

Anyone else would’ve shrunk away from her, to cower and hope mercy fell upon them. You remained rooted where you stood. Out of fear? Perhaps. But also, up close, you noticed the smattering of freckles across her nose and cheeks. Could start to make out the microexpressions beneath the mask of aloofness. The way her eyes narrowed slightly in annoyance at the fact that you hadn’t answered her question.

“I’m not fond of repeating myself. Why are you here?” she said, drawing out the last question slightly, every word laced with cold menace.

You pondered the question for a moment longer. Saying you’d been sent there to kill her was a great way to get yourself disemboweled by her fearsome claws, but it seemed if you didn’t loosen your tongue soon, that would be the fate that awaited you anyway.

“Well…. I’m a knight—”

“Yes, because your sword and armor weren’t clear giveaways.”

“---and a local village tasked me with handling their dragon problem, after said dragon torched their crops,” you continued as though you hadn’t been interrupted.

She scoffed. “I burned half of their crops. What remains of their fields remains perfectly fertile. They’re lucky I spared even that much.”

“Well, despite your generosity, they still want you dead. But I’m very much open to this ending a different way,” you quickly added. Given your predicament — weaponless and more or less at her complete mercy — it was best you didn’t make it out as though you were still intent on killing her. Besides, you weren’t altogether sure you wanted her dead now. You’d embarked on a journey to slay a mindless, rampaging beast, not a person.

She didn’t say anything. She neither moved nor blinked. Maybe she was waiting for you to explain your alternative solution. Whatever was going on in that head of hers, the fact that you were still alive was favorable. But before you divulged anything more, you needed some answers yourself.

“Why did you attack their field?”

“Why does that matter?” she retorted.

“Knowing the context behind would probably go a long way with winning me over.”

“I’m not concerned with winning you over.”

“Then humor me. Come on, whatever your motive was, it’s not like I’m really a threat to you at this point, so my reaction doesn’t matter.”

“You were never a threat to me. You came here completely unprepared, with all the subtlety of a trebuchet, and apparently lacking even the most basic knowledge that dragons are capable of adopting humanoid forms.” She tilted her head slightly. “You’re not a very good knight, are you?”

Ouch. That… actually stung a bit. And wait, was that really common knowledge? Why the hell hadn’t you heard about it?

Sighing, you pressed on. “My failings as a knight aside, look, maybe there’s a way this ends with you getting that village off your back and me walking out of your lair with my life. You know as well as I do that I won’t be the last person they send after you.”

“If it came to that, I’d incinerate every intruder and decorate the cavern with their charred bones.”

Gruesome. “We haven’t known each other long, but I get the sense that you’ve got better things to do than killing a new challenger everyday. Besides, if one doesn’t work, they’ll send two. Then they’ll send whole teams. Soon enough, they’ll have a mage join the hunt, and badass dragon or not, you probably don’t want to fight one of those.”

She exhaled sharply, exasperation flashing across her eyes. You wondered for a moment if you’d said too much.

Then, she turned away from you and wandered back over to her bed. You noticed the scales on her hand fade, and her talons retract. She sat down, facing you.

“My brother was attacked in that village,” she began. “He was in his mortal guise. He thought to go fishing in the stream, but apparently the villagers don’t take well to outsiders poaching from their waters, and he was taken and flogged in the street.”

Your heart sank. To think such an innocent mistake had been punished so harshly. Even though her face remained impassive, you noticed the way her jaw tightened as she recounted the tale.

“Though a dragon, my brother is a whelp, and didn’t retaliate. He is weak and shies away from exacting retribution.”

Harsh words for her own brother, but it was clear she cared deeply about him.

“I wouldn’t have blamed you if you’d done worse,” you said, gently.

Her brows raised slightly. She looked a touch surprised, the first real expression you’d seen from her.

“I considered it strongly,” she said, bluntly.

“I’m sure they’re thanking the gods you didn’t go through with it. You’re a lot more merciful than I would’ve been.”

“There’s no need to insult me.”

You snorted. “Wasn’t intending to. What you did was smarter, actually. Slaughtering them would’ve prompted a much harsher response from the survivors and neighboring towns. Thanks to your choice, you only have to deal with one woefully unprepared knight.”

A smile tugged at your lips.

She stared at you, considering your words carefully. After a pensive beat of silence, she spoke. “I assume, to sate their desire for vengeance and prevent them from sending more idiots after me, you’ll need to return with proof that I’ve been slain.”

You nodded, giving an uneasy shrug. “Yeah. I don’t suppose you have a way around that?”

She didn’t respond immediately. She lifted her hand and snapped twice. You heard a gentle whoosh and something came flying past you. It was a sheet of parchment, one of those you’d seen stacked on the corner table.

You watched curiously as she balled the parchment up whilst muttering something quickly under her breath. From what little you could make out of what she was saying, it didn’t seem she was speaking in any language you understood.

Your lips parted in amazement as a black whirl of smoke enveloped the crumpled parchment. The gathering of smoke increased in size, taking on some sort of long, slightly curved shape. After several seconds, it dissipated. The girl now held a large, faded white tooth, no doubt one that could be found in the maw of a dragon.

Her gaze flickered up to yours, taking in your awe. “Those wizards you mentioned earlier? They wouldn’t have stood a chance either.”

“You’re a mage,” you breathed out.

“Obviously. How else would I have paved this chamber?”

She stood up and walked over to you, massive tooth in hand. She deposited it in your outstretched arms. Your arms sagged slightly under its weight, but that did little to deter you from marveling at her creation, your eyes wide.

“It’s an illusion. It should be convincing enough for your village, but the spell will last a couple of days at most. Show them your ‘proof’ and then get rid of it before the illusion fades.”

She sighed. “I will be leaving this cave soon. It seems my little respite from home has been compromised.”

Your chest prickled with guilt. “I’m sorry. Is there anything else I can do before I go? Anything at all?”

The girl looked fixedly at you. Her features softened. The two of you were standing close enough for you to notice something flicker behind her brown, doe eyes. Gratitude? Fondness? Whatever it was, it made your heart flutter.

“I’m not used to a mortal engaging with me,” she said, quietly. “And certainly not one who knew what I was.

“You’ve done enough.”

You nodded, resigning yourself to this. At least you could offer her this much, getting an angry village off her back.

You shuffled around and made your way back towards the vaulted passage you’d entered through. Your footfalls clanged against the stone floor, and with every step you took, a small pang of sadness shot through your chest. Would you ever see her again? It was highly unlikely, given the circumstances, but you hoped you would.

Stopping in front of the passageway, you peered back at her. “I never got your name,” you said, meeting her eyes.

When she didn’t respond, you almost turned back around, assuming she didn’t plan on giving you a name.

Then—

“Wednesday.”

You paused, lips parting slightly. A smile spread across your face. It was certainly a unique name, and you found you liked it quite a lot.

“Wednesday,” you repeated, softly. As her name rolled off your tongue, you thought you saw her cheeks go the slightest shade of pink.

With a final nod, you turned back around and made your way out of the chamber. You felt her stare on your back the entire time. The feeling made you chuckle. As you set off through the perilous cavern, you hoped it wouldn’t be the last time you were caught in this dragon’s gaze.

A/N: I want to give a special mention to these three users: @i984, @robiin-buckley, and @captain-lessship. They are incredible writers and even better people, and I absolutely implore you to check out their works! They inspired me to write a fic of my own and gave me excellent advice when I sought it from them. I appreciate them immensely.

[talesofesther]

first in my heart

Astarion Ancunin x Reader

Summary: Astarion hasn't seen his own face in 200 years and this bothers you deeply. You find a solution to finally show him how you see him, yet it leads to much more than simply that.

A/N: Gotta thank my sweet @iamnicodemus for encouraging me to write this. Undoubtedly one of the sweetest things I've ever written.

Word count: 4,7k

Masterlist

"I've never even seen this face. Not since it grew fangs and my eyes turned red."

It was something that lurked in the corners of your mind, those words of his. No matter how many days passed, you couldn't shake them off. It saddened you deeply. Each new passing mention about the last two centuries of Astarion's life drove a knife into your heart and twisted bitterly.

To the naked eye, it was imperceptible, never there. Even now, as you sat around the warm bonfire, watching as the pale elf bickered halfheartedly with Gale, he seemed as ordinary as your group of misfits could be. His smile loose, adorning those sharp fangs you'd become quite familiar with; silver hair curling delicately around pointy ears; deep red eyes reflecting the fire embers with a unique shine whenever he'd steal glances at you. He was the embodiment of lightheartedness and witty remarks, eccentric, unbothered, and with a quick tongue for anything.

And yet, he wasn't, not always. You felt secretly privileged, in a way, to be able to see the real him—to be allowed to. To hold him close when he wakes up gasping for air he didn't quite need and with watery eyes in the dead of the night; to softly kiss each and every scar on his back, whispering promises of love where before he had only known pain; to remind him again and again of his worth.

Astarion had a side to him you were slowly uncovering; you think, that he himself is only now uncovering as well. Vulnerable and fragile, broken but not beyond repair, yearning to be cradled by gentle hands.

He deserves to be mended, you know it in your heart. To get back what was taken from him. And you wanted to help, if only a little.

Earlier today as you ventured through Baldur's Gate, you stumbled upon a discarded sketchbook. It was a little dirty and a little worn, but it was still very much usable. Amidst your—many—questionably valuable loot, you knew you had a few good pencils to spare too.

It's been long since you picked up some paper and let your mind run free—before your whole adventure, to be precise. Maybe you'd be a little rusty around the edges and it would take a few tries to get him close to perfect, but you had time; or, you'd make time. He deserved as much.

⋆⋅⋆⋄✧⋄⋆⋅⋆

The lines that made him him came almost like second nature to you, maybe because you'd traced those same features with your fingertips countless times before within these last weeks. Ever since he admitted he'd fallen for you beyond his plans of seducing you, things had been easier, lighter. He allowed himself to be cherished and you were more than happy to do so.

A faint smile tugged at the corners of your lips as you created curly strands of his hair with your pencil. Delicate and precise, even for the mess that was his curls.

The sky bathed in shades of orange, pink, and baby blue as the sun lowered in the distance. The camp was as lively as it usually was during the evenings. Karlach was playing fetch with Scratch and the Owlbear cub, the latter who was mostly just running around aimlessly. Gale and Wyll were hunched over the fire doing something you could only hope wouldn't end in mild disaster. Lae'zel sharpened her blades, a scratching sound piercing your ears from afar. Shadowheart looked to be in deep conversation with Astarion, to which the vampire gestured wildly as he apparently tried to make a point.

You never expected that your unfortunate encounter with a mind flayer would give you a makeshift family, but you were thankful that it did. For better or worse, you were all in this together, and that was comfort and motivation enough.

With the strangely soothing sounds of laughter and bickering, you turned your attention back to your sketchbook. Going back one page, you had already finished a rough sketch of Astarion's profile, focused on the contrast of his sharp nose and soft curls. Now, on the next page, you were working on a more elaborate portrayal of his features, depicting a look he often wore when you sauntered over to him; the faint smile on his lips that had grown all the softer ever since you first met; the gentle tilt of his head as his eyebrows scrunched expectantly; the sharp and alluring eyes who could pierce into your soul.

"What are you up to, my sweet?"

The sudden honey-coated voice startled you, you jumped slightly on your seat and hastily covered the pages on your lap with your forearms.

The elf himself stood only a few feet in front of you, his lips pursed and an eyebrow raised in curiosity as he tried to peek past your arms.

You chuckled timidly, "Nothing, I was just- just resting a bit." Shrugging nonchalantly as you smiled.

Astarion narrowed his eyes at you but didn't push it, he never did. "Gale is trying to make us something to eat with what he got from the vendors today," he gestured behind himself and to the fire where Gale stood in front of, "I wouldn't be the first to try it out if I were you but I'm dying to know everyone's opinion on it." A sly smirk got his fangs poking out, "bonus points if someone vomits it out."

You shot him an amused look, biting back a laugh. You never quite got why he had this little rivalry with Gale—besides the fact he wasn't overly fond of Gale's flirting attempts with you in the beginning, but that had long since subsided. To be honest, you think it's more routine than anything else at this point, for show and amusement; a friendly rivalry.

Slightly cold fingertips caught hold of your chin when you didn't answer, his thumb pressing against the corner of your mouth as Astarion held you. "Do join me, will you?"

The smile you still wore shifted into something sweeter, reserved only for him. And you leaned into his touch, closing your eyes momentarily. "I will… in a moment."

Astarion blinked at your briefly evasive answer, but nodded anyway, "I'll… be waiting."

He walked away, slow steps taking him towards the commotion around the campfire. You felt a little bad for denying him company right away, but it was for a good cause, you had to follow your streak of inspiration if you wanted to finish the drawing to the best of your abilities.

⋆⋅⋆⋄✧⋄⋆⋅⋆

Dinner proved to be pleasant, tasty even, for Gale's culinary standards. This time of day had to be one of your favorites, with everyone sitting together around the fire at night and forgetting about life's misfortunes for a moment.

You sat by a rock, leaning your back against it as your shoulders shook with laughter at one of Halsin's stories. Astarion had plopped down by your side not long ago, the weight of his shoulder resting against yours as comforting as it always was. He took just a while longer to take your hand in his tonight, cold fingers hooking around yours and squeezing as he brought your joined hands to rest on his thigh.

Everything felt so new, you thought of yourself as a giddy teenager sometimes; heart fluttering with each lingering touch and stolen glance. For most of the time, you let Astarion set the pace of things, giving him the freedom to choose to be by your side. And there wasn't a time when he chose not to be.

He played with your fingers, palm to palm as if to compare sizes, alluring red eyes focused solely on where you touched. Innocent, boyish even. It was new for him too, you thought, perhaps much more than it would ever be to you.

And then your mind drifted back to the gift you had been steadily creating for him, excitement twirling in your stomach. You leaned closer, lips brushing the fabric of his shirt on his shoulder, "I'm gonna head to my tent for a bit, got a few things to organize. I'll find you later, yeah?"

A low hum fell past Astarion's lips, his eyes flicked to you, all big and vulnerable. "Oh, alright," his voice quiet and sweet.

You smiled, squeezed his hand, and planted a kiss on the corner of his lips. His eyes never left you as you walked away.

⋆⋅⋆⋄✧⋄⋆⋅⋆

It had never been on his plans, falling for you. It wasn't even something he considered would happen when he first started to slip a few honeyed words your way. But then you threw his heart off course with your tender touches and whispers of comfort, leaving telltales of your warmth all over his cold body. And he was a goner.

The last time Astarion dared to care about someone, he endured a year of punishment locked away, alone, starving, and crying for help that wouldn't come. There had been a fear, clawing at the back of his mind as he watched himself crumble for you; a fear that this would end much the same.

When he finally bared his heart for you—shaking like a leaf with the proverbial organ stretched out in his hands—he expected you to deny him, scream at him, maybe even send him away.

You didn't.

You said you cared for him. You hugged him.

There was no one else in the world like you, he decided.

Three dangerous words lingered on Astarion's tongue each time he woke up to your sleeping form beside him. For the time being, he settled for kissing the shape of them into your skin, over and over, until maybe one day you figured it out.

He scoffed at himself, finally tearing his gaze away from where you sat on the other side of the camp. If his much younger self saw him now, he'd probably be laughing. Or he'd be very envious. No in-between.

Stars danced in the night sky, alongside a half-moon dusted with faint clouds. It was late, most of the group had already turned in for the night, with Karlach keeping watch, as much to her dismay, it was her turn.

Astarion ran his tongue over his fangs, grip tightening on the book he had in his hands. He'd been trying to read the same page for minutes now.

There was no one else in the world like you. He wondered when you'd realize that. When you'd realize that you were infinitely too good for the likes of him.

With a shiver running down his spine, Astarion worried that you might have started to.

It's been a few days now that you've been… distant; tucked away in your tent whenever you settled camp, not sparing him much time of day, at least not nearly as much as you used to.

With an annoyed click of his tongue, as he closed his book, Astarion realized he missed you, even with you sleeping side by side each night. How needy of him.

But he missed your mindless talks by the fire as everyone settled in for the night; he missed your walks through town just before sunset or sunrise; he missed the causality, the simplicity of calling you his. He'd gotten used to the sweet routine quite quickly.

The thought that you might already be growing tired of him made his dead heart clench agonizingly inside his chest. He glanced back at you, hunched over your makeshift desk as you scribbled something down in a book, Scratch lying by your feet. That is a kind of pain he wasn't sure he could endure.

Perhaps against his better judgment, his feet carried him to you anyway; yet he hesitated, words heavy on his tongue. Astarion stood awkwardly behind you, fidgeting with the edges of his shirt and praying that anyone who might still be awake wouldn't look this way. Scratch raised his head when the elf approached, a whine coming from him as his head tilted from side to side as if he wanted to ask what was wrong. Seems even the dog pities his predicament.

Old habits die hard and Astarion couldn't help but assume the worst, every time. He doesn't know how to be with someone, doesn't know the first thing about being in a relationship—was that what you two had? It's not like you ever labeled it. Maybe he did something wrong, and that's why you've been limiting your time with him.

"Astarion?"

With several blinks, his eyes focused again, only to see you regarding him with a frown, hand resting atop the closed book you had been writing in. Now your head was the one tilting inquisitively.

"Is everything okay?"

Still, your voice would always be sweetest to his ears.

Astarion shook his head softly to clear the fog his insecurities had brought and plastered a smile on his lips. "Of course, my darling," he approached, extending a hand to your sitting form and twirling a strand of your hair between his fingers, "I just think you should be getting your beauty sleep by now. Come warm up my bed, won't you?"

The faint blush that dusted your cheeks whenever he sweet-talked you would never cease to endear him. "We can read that book you're so fond of if you don't want to sleep, the cheesy romance one," Astarion purred, his pointer finger tracing the edges of your jaw.

You turned your head, planting a small kiss on his palm. "I'll be going soon, just want to finish something first. You can read without me, I don't mind."

But how could he ever tell you, that the words looked blurry and tangled without you by his side?

Longer than an hour had gone by when you finally decided to come to his tent. The night was mostly quiet, eery, with only the sounds of crickets, frogs, and the crackling of the dying fire. Astarion lay on his side, back turned towards the tent's opening. He didn't need sleep, not really, some meditation here and there would usually be enough to keep his energy up. But it was a habit he'd picked up when you started sleeping together through the night.

He wasn't asleep tonight, however. He heard your footsteps approaching him, quiet and cautious so as to not disturb him. He felt you lying down beside him, ever so slowly.

Astarion closed his eyes tightly, trying to hold himself back and failing miserably. One taste of your affection had been enough to get him hopelessly addicted.

He turned, shuffling closer and curling his body around you. His arm went over your stomach and tugged lightly, like a kitten asking for attention. You didn't say anything as you closed your arms around him, your lips finding the bridge of his nose and then his forehead. Words were futile when actions spoke the loudest.

Your gentle touches, the way you hold him without malice, he could hardly get enough of it. Your arms wrapped around him and your lips grazed his skin with lingering kisses, and it didn't hurt, it didn't burn or make him feel sick. You were the first one to ever do it, to hold him without hurting him.

Astarion nuzzled your neck, burying himself in the feeling, gladly drowning in it as he drank every last drop. Tears prickled his eyes, they usually did on nights like these and he's never quite sure why. Maybe it's because of the way your fingers gently tangled in his hair yet didn't tug or scrape; maybe it's the way you tighten your hold on him as if trying to mend his fragile heart; maybe it's because of how much he longed for someone like you to come and save him, on nights where all he knew were pain and unwelcomed caresses that scarred his skin more than any blade ever could.

And now, he wanted to lose himself in the comfort he found, that you so generously provided. His fingers closed forcefully on the fabric of your shirt, nearly ripping it, afraid you'd leave if he held you any looser. The fear of waking up alone and finding out that he'd lost you was all too consuming, tugging at his heartstrings.

He closed his eyes and rogue tears dampened the collar of your shirt. It was okay, it would be dry come morning, you wouldn't know. You were warm, you chased away everything that haunted him.

⋆⋅⋆⋄✧⋄⋆⋅⋆

You stared at it intently. You have been staring at it for a while now, teeth chewing at the inside of your cheek in nervousness and anticipation. You checked it once, twice, turning the pages with careful fingers. The sketchbook wasn't filled, it would take too long to do so, but at least half of the pages inside it held some kind of scribble. Art pieces of various styles and levels of progression, some much more detailed than others, some mere hasty lines put together to paint a dear image you wanted to keep for a while longer. All of them of him. A book filled with the pointy ears and pale hair you adored so much.

You could only hope he would adore it just as much.

It was early in the morning and the day had yet to properly start. Most of your companions were still tucked away in their tents, some huddled around the burned logs of the fire from last night, coffee mugs in their hands and a sleepy look on their faces. You were never much of an early bird yourself, but today you made a point of rising before Astarion—you were lucky he'd picked back up the habit of sleeping and wasn't much of an early bird himself.

Hugging the sketchbook to your chest, you padded back to the warmth of his tent. As you opened the flaps, you were greeted with the sight of soft slivers of sunlight coming through the thinner part of the tent's fabric, they glimmered over Astarion's laying form, kissing his pale skin and making it shine.

You could easily get used to it; waking up to him, watching as the early morning rays painted his features golden, small wisps of dust flying in the air only giving him that bit more magical touch.

Astarion had his back to you, so you quietly kneeled beside him, extending a hand to run through his mess of curls; oh how soft they were, molding in between your fingers like seafoam on the shore. You counted yourself remarkably privileged.

You placed the sketchbook behind you so you could lie down, only keeping yourself up on one elbow. Your lips found his temple and the elf lightly stirred in his sleep. You kissed the tip of his ear next, waking him up gently. Always gently. He deserves gentleness.

With a hoarse groan, Astarion turned around to face you. He blinked several times as his ruby eyes adjusted to the soft sunlight, his face adorably scrunched from sleep. An easy, small smile appeared on his lips as soon as his gaze landed on you.

You weren't an early bird, yet you came to love the mornings, if only for this sight alone.

"Good morning, my star," you said quietly so as to not disturb the peace of the moment, still twirling a strand of his hair between your fingers.

He chuckled, "Good morning, beautiful." His voice all husky and deep, one hand finding your waist and trailing all the way up to your neck to pull you closer.

You kissed the corner of his lips and then the apple of his cheek, and Astarion's hold on you only grew tighter, pulling you on top of him. A welp escaped you as you laughed, nuzzling his neck before baring your teeth and giving him a playful nibble.

"Ow, you menace!" The vampire gasped halfheartedly, holding back a grin.

You pulled back from him with the ghost of a smile, bracing yourself on his chest. "I've got something to tell you."

His expression shifted to something you couldn't quite decipher, but he quickly masked it with a teasing tilt of his brows; "Oh? Are you gonna confess your undying love for me?" Both his hands brushed along the sides of your waist, gingerly raising your shirt as his pinkie grazed your skin.

"I thought we'd gone over that part already?" You teased back with a glint in your eyes, pushing yourself back up to sit beside him.

A whimper of complaint escaped Astarion when you separated, but he sat up with you anyway; his hair askew and all over the place, cheeks with the faintest flush to them, eyes just a little droopy, and… a strange stiffness to his shoulders. "What is it, my love?" He wondered, scrunching his nose endearingly when a piece of lint grazed it.

You squirmed in your seat; heart burning hotter than Karlach's in your chest, valves working overtime as the connection you shared enveloped you whole. You haven't actually told him how much you loved him, the four-lettered word hadn't been brought up yet, mostly for fear of the weight it held. But you wanted to, you've been feeling it for a while now.

"Well? Don't leave me in suspense," Astarion chuckled, but the sound didn't feel quite right to your ears, his smile wasn't reaching his eyes. And as you looked at him—one of his hands gripping tightly onto the fabric of his bedroll while the other tapped his knee incessantly; the ruby of his eyes almost nonexistent, covered by shiny black pupils as he looked intently at you, gaze filled with sentiment and vulnerability—you could notice it there now, that lingering fear of solitude gripping at his chest.

For a moment, you berated yourself, for you knew you'd spent quite some time on your little project, and maybe it had affected your routine more than you cared to admit. You felt a nagging guilt and sorrow for making Astarion even consider the possibility of loneliness again.

You tried shrugging it off. It would be worth it—and you'd be showering him with love and affection in just a moment anyway.

"I made something for you." The words rolled off your tongue more easily than you thought they would. You reached behind you with unsteady hands, heart in your mouth as you held onto your breath.

Astarion stared intently at the black sketchbook that was now clasped between your hands. He looked up at you, and back down, lips pursed in confusion.

"Ever since you told me… you haven't seen yourself in so long," you started, voice gentle as your thumbs traced the leather cover of the book. "And asked me how I saw you. I- I kept thinking about it and… when I found this," you wiggled the sketchbook in the air, "I guess I found a way of showing you…"

You extended the book for him to take, lowering your voice to a near whisper; "how I see you."

A short, trembled gush of air went past Astarion's lips. It was a difficult task to get him speechless, yet you had done it. He said nothing as he ever so carefully took the book from your hands, holding it as if the smallest wrong move could break it.

You watched as his throat worked through a heavy gulp, his eyes shining bright under the faint sunlight, swimming in a pool of sentiment and he hadn't even opened the book yet. Or properly looked at it, for that matter; his eyes still trailed on your face, as if waiting for confirmation that you meant it. Only when you gave him a tiny nod, did he finally look down. It hit you hard that this was probably the first gesture of this kind that he had received in his long life.

Shaky, pale hands reached to turn the first page. He hesitated for only a moment, almost looking afraid. About to see himself after 200 years of living as a ghost.

The first drawing you had made in the book wasn't your best, now that you looked down at it again; a simple portrait of Astarion looking down at a book in his hands, a little rough around the edges, hardly detailed. It had been your first try after not drawing for quite some time.

A beat passed, and a drop of water landed on the bottom corner of the page. You whipped your head up, only to see rogue tears steadily dripping down Astarion's cheeks until they reached his chin and fell on his lap. He cried silently, barely moving; the only signs being the obvious tears and the quivering of his lower lip.

He turned each page as if they were made from the purest gold. Stopping at every single drawing of him, to take it all in. He traced his fingertips over the lines that formed the curves of his curls, the tips of his ears, and the slope of his nose and lips.

People had referred to him as many things already; sexy, alluring, charming, attractive. Never had any of them referred to him as something… precious, delicate, bewitching, more than just a pretty face. Yet that's exactly how he saw himself now, through your eyes.

Astarion took his time, never speaking once. You let him, making yourself comfortable beside him and laying your head on his shoulder, simply existing in each other's presence.

Several minutes had gone by when the elf finally spoke up again. He was finally on the last used page of the book, and when the next appeared in white he slowly closed the book, still grasping onto it reverently. "For a moment I- I thought you'd grown tired of me already," it was the first thing he told you, and he refused to meet your eyes. A humorless chuckle fell past his lips, trying to laugh off his feelings.

You raised your head from his shoulder, lifting a hand to tenderly brush long strands of silver hair behind his ear; as you did so, you allowed your fingers to travel further, burying in the mop of hair behind his head. "Never. Never in a million years," you whispered.

Astarion met your gaze at last, ruby eyes glimmering with unshed tears while dried tracks of the ones before still lingered on his cheeks. This was the real Astarion; fragile, vulnerable, pleading for a gentle love, yet so beautifully strong.

"I'm sorry, my star. For allowing that thought to plague you. I just wanted this to be a surprise." You leaned forward and touched your forehead with his for a brief moment, hoping to bend the rules and physically give him your love.

"You made this," Astarion's voice broke in the middle, yet his smile was the most sincere you'd ever witnessed, "For me."

Catching a single tear that rolled down his cheek, you nodded, with a smile of your own.

There was a beat, a moment of silence where you simply looked at each other, wondering if the other felt just as much. And you didn't need a tadpole connection to confirm it.

Astarion set the sketchbook aside before all but throwing himself at you. Both his arms encircled your waist with desperation as he buried his head in your neck. His lips drew sloppy patterns and raised goosebumps in your skin as he kissed you relentlessly, from shoulder, to neck, to jaw; until he finally reached your own lips.

You brought your arms around him, pulling him in until your very souls were intertwined. Giggles escaped your lips as he kissed you, the shape of both your smiles making it difficult and all the more delightful.

When you parted, Astarion had you pinned down on his bedroll, with him resting snuggly on top of you. He refused to let go, clingy as he'd never dreamt he'd be. Your hand buried in his hair, his nose brushed the skin of your collar bone. "I had asked the gods for salvation, for any kind of blessing, countless times before. I could never guess it would come in the shape of you." He breathed in. He didn't hesitate. "Thank you. I love you."

You felt his smile. Felt the shape of his words on your skin, your soul. You kissed his hairline. "And I love you."

⋆* ☾ ⋆*･ﾟ:⋆*･ﾟ

Thank you for reading this little story. Feedback and reblogs are literally what keeps me motivated to continue posting here, so I’d appreciate it if you could take some time to reblog and comment. <3

You do not have permission to repost, copy, or translate my works on any platforms (even with credit), please respect.

Astarion’s taglist: @milkiane @v1ci0us

[fandomnerd9602]

Hypothesis

Nerdy!Natasha Romanoff x Geek!Reader

Avengers High

Attraction has long been defined as when two opposite forces were brought together. In the case of Natasha Romanoff, a shy, introverted nerd at Avengers High, she was still looking for her opposite half.

No one really noticed her as she moved down the hallways of the high school campus. To most she was a face that blended in. She didn’t stand out to anyone. Well she did stand out to you.

She was your best friend. Calm, kind, and loving, you always saw the diamond that she always was. Her heart spoke volumes to yours. You were a geek, always obsessed with Star Wars or James Bond. There is a difference between geeks and nerds. But yet Natasha was always by your side for hangouts after school.

Natasha, despite all the logic, all the incalculable data that she had about chemistry with another person, found her heart fluttering each time you watched a Bond movie with her. Each time you smiled. Every time you cheered her up when the popular gals looked down on her or called her ugly duckling.

“It’s not calculable! The data doesn’t work!” Natasha bemoaned to her lab partner, Maria.

“What?” Maria groans, “is this about your love equation?”

“My equation of total compatibility.” Natasha answered back. “I ran simulations of Steve and I and then of Y/N and I.”

“And?” Maria looks with a bemused grin.

“It says Steve and I should be compatible but I don’t feel anything when I’m near him.”

“And (Y/N)?” Maria smirks.

“It says we have zero compatibility but yet…” Natasha huffs. “I-I think I’m in love with my best friend.”

“Oh Nattie,” Maria chuckles, “love isn’t something you quantify or try to put some equation to. Maybe what need is to test your hypothesis”

“Test? How?”

“Find out if you get sparks or butterflies when you kiss (Y/N)”

“But what if I screw up the only good friendship I have?!” Natasha nearly shouts in the middle of physics class.

“What if it becomes something amazing?” Maria asks, leaving the topic at that.

It was a dangerous game: testing such a hypothesis. On one hand, if her equation was accurate, she might lose your friendship. And if it was proven false, then she’d lose a bit of credibility, at least in her own eyes.

Such a hypothesis test came that night as you and her were watching an old James Bond movie on your couch.

“Geez how does James end up with all these girls?” Natasha asked jokingly.

“Maybe he’s secretly an alien with a powerful pheromone level?” You shrugged.

Natasha paused the movie and turned to you. “I need your help.”

“Sure! What’s up?” You flashed her a quick smile.

“I-I need to test something.” She bit her lip nervously. “Just close your eyes”

You happily obeyed. Natasha leaned in and kissed your lips. The mere touch sent sparks and shivers up and down her whole body.

Your eyes shot open. It was perfect.

Natasha pulled back a blushing, stuttering mess of a teenager. “I-I…umm…wow”

“Yeah. Wow.” You smiled, giggling a little too. “So how was your hypothesis?”

“I’m so happy to prove my equation of compatibility wrong.” She giggles.

“Maybe us being friends interferes with it somehow.” You smirked. “Maybe requires further testing.”

Hypothesis are usually proven or disproven thru various tests, Natasha thought.

“Further testing is required,” she giggles before jumping into your lap, kissing you repeatedly.

Natasha Romanoff. She was your best friend, your favorite nerd. And the love of your life. You and her still kept resting whether or not her equation was correct or not. The equation was put thru tests of dating, proposal, marriage, and eventually children.

Natasha was never more happy than to disprove her own hypothesis of compatibility. You and her, despite the data, were just perfect for each other.

Tags: @aloneodi @abimess @lifespectator @russianredassassin @revanshand @pinklawyerwinnerzonk @multi-fandom-enjoyer @jacenradio7 @scarletquake-n7 @supercorpdanbeau @iiconicsfan25 @iamnicodemus

[mikavlcs]

1. wouldyouwaitforme - moodring

2. black pixie (on the edge) - miss fortune

3. dead butterflies - architects

4. fighting gravity - of mice & men

5. alaska - valiant hearts

uh…idk @vorsdany @rottingdownunder @iamnicodemus hi

was tagged by @laymedowninsheetsoflinen (hi!!) to list the top 5 songs i have on repeat rn!

1) seventeen - sharon van etten. I heard it in a yellowjackets shauna edit and it permenantly rewired my brain

2) get off - kittie. I love kittie sm

3) movies for guys - jane remover

4) faces - no swoon

5) night owl - metronomy

no pressure tags: @amethyinst @saltywinteradult @livelaughlesbianmistyquigley @airmanslament @mistoffeleesisawitch @ichooseviolence 💜

[mikavlcs]

I saw this edit on Pinterest and….

Hailee Steinfeld in a Scream movie when???

now wait a minute……i never even thought about this but i kinda need it now idk 🏃‍♀️

[i984]

Who’s your favorite fictional character?

Me! I'm fictional!

I don't think I have a favorite but probably Robin from ST because SHE'S SO CUTE AND PRETTY AND- precious 🥺💗

Get to know your resident angst avoider

[fandomnerd9602]

F - freeze frame (j. hellos band)

A - along the watchtower (Jimi Hendrix)

N - no sleep til Brooklyn (beastie boys)

D - do you believe in magic (lovin’ spoonful)

O - ogre battle (queen)

M - monster mash (Bobby ‘Borris’ Pickett)

N - nice to be with you (gallery)

E - even if I die (idris elba)

R - rebel rebel (David Bowie)

D - danger zone (Kenny loggins)

Tags: @xxxtwilightaxelxxx @ab1nsur @deafeningsharkslimeempath @family-house-of-m @russianredassassin @the-time-lord-of-gallifrey-1963 @iamnicodemus @kingofthelizardpeople @konstantin609 @supercorpdanbeau

Got randomly tagged by @fuckthemforthis so here we go:

URL song challenge!

Spell your URL with songs and then tag as many people as there are letters!

A~Are you satisfied by MARINA

P~Proti toku by Joker Out

F~Fine by Lemon Demon

E~Empty Bed by Cavetown

L~Lynn by Tonbandgerät

(I don't know any songs that start with 0 or 7)

@nyx-aira (literally the only person that I can tag here so have some random people from my dash, only do it if you want): @wednesdayday @markscherz @eurojolie @ladyartemesia

[talesofesther]

you're all I want love to be

Tara Carpenter x Reader

Summary: Tara is still afraid to allow people close, to allow herself to trust again. Until she finds someone who makes it easier.

A/N: The idea for this was also given to me by my dear @iamnicodemus. Hope y'all like it. Tara, I love u. <3

Masterlist

Tara never meant for it to happen.

It was actually the one thing she wanted the least. Catching feelings for someone only opens up more opportunities for her to get hurt.

And yet it happened so easily, so subtly, that she only realized it when the damage was already done.

She found you on her first day at the university. When she was admittedly very lost; backpack hanging from one shoulder, fifteen minutes late for her class, and walking in the opposite direction of it. You were the only person she'd bumped into when going past Blackmore's cafeteria, and after a bit of an internal pep talk, Tara walked up to you.

And if kindness could be a person, it would be you. Instead of just taking her to class, you gave Tara a simple tour of the university, promising to be around if she ever needed anything else.

Tara started noticing you on every corner of the campus after that. She didn't take you up on your offer though, choosing instead to keep her distance. Still, you always had a smile reserved for her at times you'd catch her staring. That didn't change when the rumors about her and Sam started, if anything, you became more approachable than before.

But it was only after an unfortunate incident, that Tara actually started hanging out with you;

October had started four days ago, and with it, the Halloween season. Parties were already being scheduled every other weekend and sometimes on weekdays as well.

Tara was walking towards her class, her head in the clouds while she thought about what costume she would wear if she were to go to one of those parties.

She was usually one to be early for class now that she had her paths memorized, preferring the calmness of the minutes before everyone started rushing to arrive on time.

So she wasn't exactly expecting what happened next.

As Tara rounded a corner, she was surprised to come face to face with two other students; one of them adorning a black hoodie and a cheap Ghostface mask. The 'boo' that left his lips was as childish as it could be, but the abruptness of the encounter got Tara stumbling on her own feet as she took several steps back, eyes wide and her body momentarily entering fight or flight mode.

"What's wrong, Carpenter?" The guy in the mask said in a mocking tone, his friend joining in on the laughter, "thought I was your sister?"

Tara's voice was tangled up in her throat, she couldn't remember if she packed her inhaler this morning, or was it her taser that she forgot?

If unkind memories weren't flashing behind her eyes, Tara would have recognized the two idiots in front of her; the boys who came here to do anything but study, taking getting on people's nerves as a hobby.

It was only when the back of their heads was hit — quite forcefully — with a book, that they stopped laughing. The cheap mask fell to the ground with the hit, gaining a crack on its edge.

"Don't you guys have anything better to do?" You came from behind them, tucking the book back in your backpack, "fuck off before I tell the director what you've been doing out in the parking lot when you think no one's watching."

With a few complaints under their breath, they eventually walked away, allowing Tara to let out the breath she'd been holding.

"Morons," you huffed, tugging on the straps of your backpack before turning around to Tara, your gaze softening immediately, "you okay?"

Her dark eyes found yours. She simply nodded, feeling her lower lip quivering when she tried to speak. She noticed the way your hand twitched to reach out to her but you stopped yourself midway, instead tucking both hands in your pockets.

"I'm sorry about them," you told her with the usual gentleness you never lacked, "they should know better than to do that."

Tara shook her head softly, managing a smile when her heartbeat started to settle, "thank you for… stepping in."

You just shrugged, your smile coming as a copy of hers, and it got Tara wondering if it could hold the same sentiment too.

"Anytime," you told her then, and Tara hardly left your side after it.

It was easy to fall into the routine of having you near and pretending she was just a normal girl with a crush on her friend. Being with you was so easy that it made Tara forget about all the bad, forget about all the reasons why allowing people close became dangerous.

And today? Today should be a good day, it's a day Tara has been looking forward to, a day that took away her sleep for all the good reasons. And it's not like she never stopped to get coffee with you on the way to campus, but today felt different because you had asked her to, as a date.

And Tara had been counting the seconds for it; until Ghostface came back and nearly killed her and Sam at that grocery store, until Mindy said 'never trust the love interest', until her worst nightmares came back again and suddenly nothing was easy anymore.

"Alright guys, as much as I love discussing possible suspects with you," Chad pushed himself off the bench he'd been sitting on, "we've still got classes to go to, come on Ethan." The two boys gathered their things and walked away, Quinn soon following behind.

Tara slumped back in her seat, her hands coming up to cover her eyes. With her sight momentarily gone, it felt like everything else was louder, heavier; she could perfectly hear the rustling of leaves from the trees around, the cacophony of voices from all the other students hanging out outside, and feel the weight of Sam's gaze on her.

"I think someone's looking for you, lovergirl," Mindy said out of nowhere, kicking Tara's sneaker with her own. When Tara glanced up at her friend with a frown, all Mindy did was tilt her head towards the university, where you had just walked out from and were now making your way to them.

"Don't think I haven't noticed," Mindy teased with a sing-song voice and a grin plastered on her lips.

"Noticed what?" Sam sat up straighter, her gaze shifting from Tara to Mindy.

"Tara's girlfr-"

"Nothing," Tara interrupted quickly, getting up so she could land a gentle punch to Mindy's shoulder, "nothing to notice," she said again, pointedly.

"Alright, let's go, Sam," Mindy extended a hand for the older girl, "we'll meet back at the dorm later."

Sam still had a confused frown on her features but she took the hand offered to her anyway, while Mindy leaned closer to Tara so she could whisper; "always knew you had good taste," before both of them walked again.

Tara's cheeks went aflame as she let out a groan, predicting the onslaught of questions she'd get later today. She slowly turned around to meet you in the middle, her soul naturally filling with incessant butterflies.

Had she really been that unsubtle when regarding you?

"Hey," you greeted her a little breathlessly, letting go of your backpack and leaving it on the floor as you took a small extra step closer to Tara, your eyes frantically looking her over, "I was so worried when I saw what happened last night, are you-"

"I'm okay," it was instinct, but Tara didn't know if the words were true. There was something about you that always made her feel more than she wanted to, she suddenly felt like the last pieces of herself she'd been trying to hold together so hard over the last months started crumbling. Tara took hold of your hands, squeezing tightly. She didn't know who she was trying to comfort, you or herself.

You held her back, glancing down as your fingers intertwined with hers. Tara observed the way your lashes kissed the corner of your cheeks; you were all golden softness and spring warmth, presence rivaling the one of a welcoming sun on a cold day. Tara wanted to memorize that, keep it in her heart as if it was the first and last time she'd be seeing you.

It should be easy to forget and pretend, but it suddenly wasn't, because Mindy's words kept ringing inside Tara's head even if she didn't want them to be true. She felt tears steadily collecting on the bottom lid of her eyes.

"But," she closed her eyes at the unsteadiness of her own voice. More than anything, she wanted this, wanted you. But she was stuck. It felt like quicksand, pulling her further down the more she struggled to get out. "about today…"

It's like you knew her better than she knew herself sometimes, maybe for you, it still felt easy. "It's alright, Tara." Your thumb brushed over the scar on top of her hand, "we don't have to go, I understand."

Tara pursed her lips, blinking away her vulnerability. She let go of your hands only to loop her arm around yours and bring your bodies closer together, "walk me to class, though?"

—

"Come on, spill it, what's up between you two?" Mindy leaned back on the kitchen counter beside Tara, "I was joking earlier today, but now I actually think there's something there."

The carrot Tara was cutting ended up with a slice too big, she had to turn it around and cut it one more time in the middle, "I've told you, there's nothing going on," Tara told her friend with a sigh, making sure to cut smaller slices so she could keep her hands busy as long as possible; "she's my friend."

Mindy scoffed, she picked up a spoon from the sink and tasted whatever Chad was cooking up on the stove. A grimace came to her face at the lack of seasoning, "I've heard that before."

"It's not like that," Tara dropped the knife then, unsure what she was frustrated about or what she wanted to convince Mindy of, "how can I get… involved with someone after what happened?" Her voice grew quieter by the end.

Mindy softened at that, she turned to face Tara fully — everyone knew the younger Carpenter was still struggling with what she'd been through, even if she didn't want to admit it. "I know it's not easy, T. But you can't close yourself off for everyone, some people are still worth it," Mindy glanced towards the living room, a soft smile on her lips when Anika's silhouette came into view, "people aren't meant to be islands."

—

There are times when the pain is so big, that it almost doesn't feel like pain anymore. If it comes from a wound, that's usually the time when you'll pass out. If it comes from inside, you start to feel numb.

Sitting at the back of an ambulance as she watches cops walking out with another one of her friends in a dark body bag, Tara thinks she's close to that feeling. Mindy is sitting beside her, she's not moving. Tara doesn't know what to say in moments like these, they feel almost awkward. A morbid kind of awkward.

So when she gets up, cell phone in hand with your number already ringing, she blames it on that; on the pain squeezing her chest almost to the point of unbearable, on the helplessness she feels twirling in her gut.

Tara paced back and forth on the sidewalk, trying to draw out the noise of the sirens as she counted up the seconds until you picked up.

… Two, three, four.

Tara could hear her own heart rate quicken, she closed her eyes, thinking about how her inhaler was still all the way up in the apartment; where there's blood, and-

Please, pick up. Please, pick up.

"Hello?"

A long sigh of relief left Tara's lips as soon as she heard your voice through the phone. As if she hadn't cried enough, she could see tears clouding her sight.

"Tara? What happened, is everything okay?"

"No, it's not," Tara forced out, her voice tight with a sudden rawness. She turned her back to Mindy so the girl wouldn't see her crying, "there was another attack… Anika didn't make it."

"Oh god, I can't-" Tara could hear you choking on your own voice, "are you okay? Please tell me you're okay."

"Yeah, I'm-" Tears made a steady path down to Tara's chin, some getting caught under the phone pressed tightly to her cheek, "I'm alright."

"Tell me where you are, I can be there in like ten- five minutes."

"No!" Tara said with urgency, "don't come here, please, I don't want you anywhere near this," she gulped back a lump in her throat, "it's too dangerous."

"But what about you?"

"I'll be okay," Tara closed her eyes, wishing the words really were true, "I just-" she hesitated, a confession lingering on her tongue, "I just wanted to hear your voice, is all." She bit onto her lower lip until it drew blood.

"We- we can talk for as long as you need," it was like Tara could hear your smile, "I'm happy to hear your voice too."

—

Ambulance lights and police sirens were clouding your senses as you run up to the commotion. It was quite a sight; your oversized shirt, shorts, and sneakers with mismatched high socks. But you couldn't remember to care because your heart had been at your throat ever since Mindy called.

There were several reporters blocking your view but you squeezed your way through them until you reached the police tape. You've always hated this; the white and red colors of the vehicles that only showed up in tragedies, the panic and grief that lay heavy in the air, the clicks of the cameras from people who saw it as an opportunity — you hated it all, but right now the only one on your mind is Tara.

You ducked to go under the police tape, immediately attracting the attention of one of the cops, "Miss, you can't be here, please go back behind-"

"No, you don't understand," you gripped at the fabric of his jacket when he tried to keep you back, trying to push through, "I know them."

And the cop kept speaking, probably about things you weren't allowed to do and places you shouldn't be. You didn't hear any of it, because you found her. Her blue shirt had more red than blue in it, dried blood was all over the fabric, making you feel a mix between relief and nauseousness; her hair was messy, tangled, and damp in some places; her skin still coated with bits of dirt and blood too; her arm was held up by a makeshift bandage. But she was there, talking to a blonde woman on a stretcher; she was alive.

"Tara," you called quietly as your sight blurred over, and then a little louder, "Tara!"

She looked up, any words she'd been saying dying on her lips when she saw you. For a beat, it seemed as if she was assessing if you were real or not, before she was all but running towards you.

Not caring for consequences, you pushed the cop off of you and met her halfway — lucky for you he apparently noticed you really knew them.

"What are you doing here?" Tara's eyes were glinting under the red and blue lights, there were clear tracks on her cheeks where tears had run down.

"I was-" you tried, stumbling over your words as you took her in, all blood stains and bruises. You raised a hand to push back her fringe, the strands of hair were damp to the touch; from sweat or blood, you didn't want to know. "Mindy called, and scared the shit out of me. I came as fast as I could."

With her lower lip stuck between her teeth, Tara leaned into your touch. Her eyes closed tightly when your thumb traced the outline of her eyebrow.

"Are you okay? I mean of course you're not okay, what am I even-"

You were cut off when Tara threw herself at you. She pulled you close with her free hand, nails almost digging into your skin with the force of it as she buried her head on your shoulder.

Quiet sobs shook her body and you held her back the best you could whilst being mindful of her injuries. One of your hands cradled her head, fingers tangled in her dark hair as you breathed in everything that was her. "Shit, I don't know what I'd do if anything happened to you."

Tara only pushed herself into you more as you spoke. There was a beat, a moment of hesitance from someone who'd had the bitter taste of betrayal more than anyone should. Trust was a gamble, but when you had a place in her heart no one else could ever have, Tara knew you'd never break it. "I'm okay now," she spoke against you; and she believed it.

You only squeezed her tighter, pulling back just enough to land a kiss on her temple. And you allowed your lips to linger, to feel her skin against you and her heartbeat pressed to your own.

Tara melted in your hold, allowing you to support most of her weight. With her cheek pressed to your collarbone, she spoke; "you still owe me a date."

⋆* ☾ ⋆*･ﾟ:⋆*･ﾟ

Thank you for reading this little story. Feedback and reblogs are literally what keep me motivated to continue posting here, so I’d appreciate it if you could take some time to reblog and comment if you want. <3

Tara’s taglist: @milkiane @v1ci0us @alexkolax

[fandomnerd9602]

Little Doe

Bambi!Wanda x Reader MasterList

Curious

Mates?

Smells Something

Plushies

Make a Change

First Date

Desert

Sick

Trust

Six Months

My Tears Ricochet (🥺)

Nightmares

In the Park

Little Things

Beach Trip

Love Me Tender (🥺)

Date Night

Shower

Only You

First Time (🌶️)

Little Dream

Touch

Question (🥰)

Cell Phones & Road Trips

Slight Problem (🌶️)

Tease (🌶️🥵)

Halloween Bug

Our First Thanksgiving

Reunion

Some Nights

Siblings

Wedding Plans

Wedding Daze Pt 1

Wedding Daze Pt 2

Family Vacation

Heat?

Needy (🌶️)

Touch Starved (🌶️)

TLC (🌶️)

Hard Days

New Friends

Night Swim (🌶️)

Tricks & Treats

Maybe?

The First Three Months

Nighttime

Relief

The Last Three Months

Little Doe Eyed Baby

Affirmation (🌶️)

Parents & Kids

Shedding Season

Pretend

Thanksgiving

Side Stories

Adopting

Tags: @mathxa @lifespectator @supercorpdanbeau @scarletquake-n7 @multi-fandom-enjoyer @iamnicodemus @russianredassassin @julieromanoff @softlymaximoff @tokufighter

A/N: I own nothing. These were just written for fun.

[fandomnerd9602]

Thanks @lifespectator !

Last Song: Do Ya by Electric Light Orchestra

Fav Colors: Purple, Red and Blue

Sweet/Savory/Spicy: Savory. I love to cook

Currently Watching: (1) Parks & Recreation (2) Psych

Relationship status: I’m single and no girl wishes to mingle

Current Obsession: Marvel, 70s-80s Rock and Filmmaking

Last Thing I Googled: Hailee Steinfeld Bumblebee Charlie gif

Tags: @aloneodi @tokufighter @deafeningsharkslimeempath @family-house-of-m @holiday-house-of-m @iamnicodemus

Someone You Want to Know Better

Thanks for the tag @mothboypoison I love tag games so don't feel bad about tagging me in them!

last song: Masterpiece by Motionless in White

favorite color: Blue. Specifically a cyan blue.

currently watching: Rewatching 3rd Rock from the Sun

sweet/savory/spicy: Ooh, hard choice... I like to drink my sweet and I eat more savory than spicy. But I do like spicy.

relationship status: Taken by two handsome, sweet, and lovable guys~ <3 Dating every fictional man I ever met in my head.

current obsession: Jujutsu Kaisen is very strong in my interests right now, but I have also drawn 4 full pages of doodles about that fuckin Pal, lmao. I think it's safe to say Bushi is my obsession right now.

last thing you googled: A list of DDR songs. Which led to me finding Stepmania and a site that sells dance pads and now I really want a dance pad because I miss playing DDR.

I shall tag @tsunderesalty and @tsukimefuku but absolutely don't do it if you don't want to.

[mikavlcs]

If you continue writing for Wednesday (but for any character really), I would be all over it. I think the fandom’s still around!

good to know you still have my back fr, your reblogs are always 20/10 😭😭

loveee the layout btw. loki season 2 was insane (especially that ending…)

[mikavlcs]

mikavlcs fans these last few months:

LMAOSJSSISJ left u guys hanging fr…

my followers seeing me on their dash after like five months:

[mikavlcs]

Today I was reminded of the existence of Spiders-Man, aka a hivemind of innumerable spiders that’s convinced themselves that they’re Peter Parker 😬

HELP???

i have so many questions 😭⁉️

[mikavlcs]

Miguel when the fanfic deviates slightly from canon

pls bro wouldn’t even get that far. he would spontaneously combust upon just seeing the ao3 home page 😭😭