#these terms were made up so that way people on TikTok

[libraford]

Misty Copeland, my beloved.

I can't even say that 'appreciation' is the word, at least in the case of bellydance. It's just what happens when a culture touches another. Because 'bellydance' itself is a very broad term that encompasses a variety of dance styles that may have no verifiable country of origin.

Correct me of I'm wrong, of course!

Under a cut because apparently I'm infodumping on dance history.

The best we have as an origin people are the Ghawazee, and today's style looks very little like their practice (which is still taught by it's sole remaining member). But the people traveled before settling in Egypt, so a clear origin is difficult to pinpoint. And you do hear claims that bellydance is Egyptian, and while it's not untrue, it's not the entire story- Ghawazee spent some time in Egypt and the style stuck around to have a stylistic exchange. And a lot of the old Hollywood depictions of bellydance are something between this cultural fusion and awalim. All of these styles, and so many more of that region, informed each other and inspired each other as trade routes between countries became more common, and the Ottoman Empire brought it northward as far as modern day Austria.

And the dance style has been criticized pretty much everywhere it goes. Like our earliest footage of the dance was as a Victorian sideshow that was considered by the primarily white male audience to be vulgar. But as Egyptian film made this style more easily accessed, fondness for it grew, and we enter Golden Age of Bellydance- which was not always not the most culturally sensitive depiction, but it gave a lot of dancers a chance to show their skills to a wider audience- and now women want to learn it too! Teachers pop up everywhere, even though it's still considered a little risque in many cultures.

Bellydance was being seen all over the world because of cinema, even if inaccurate so. And there was a fascination with Egypt that made it the center of attention for a lot of film. There were tons of middle eastern dance clubs, though they were, again, kind of a fantasy version of it.

And then it got hairy.

Iranian Revolution in 1979 put a lot of restrictions on dance. If you were a dance teacher affected by this, your choices were either stop dancing or immigrate to a country where you'd be allowed to teach. So you see a huge boom in the 80s of Egyptian Cabaret styles taking root in the US because the interest in Egyptian culture made it easy to set up shop.

So most of what you're seeing today in modern stage styles is either second or third generation of Egyptian Cabaret style through several layers of translation, which in itself is deep in layers of translation, applied to the melting pot of America and then to the exposure of film, TV, music video, YouTube, Instagram, and then finally TikTok.

And that's fucking fascinating! The cultural exchange that had to happen for us to get that half-beat Turkish drop is high key cool af, just to think about all of the steps we had to go through to get here. It is an ever-evolving discipline of dance, and the fact that Shining Protector is still teaching the old ways of her people to keep traditions alive is AMAZING!

We should want this. And I don't know how to explain to people that sometimes the watered-down white people spicy version is the gateway drug to taking an active interest in a different culture.

When one culture comes in contact with another and the peoples share the things that enrich their lives, that is cultural exchange. But I think it's hard for some people to see any interaction with a white culture as neutral-positive. And it's somewhat difficult to explain the difference.

[muddyorbsblr]

team loki pt1

See my full list of works here!

inspired by this TikTok POV

Summary: Thor poses a question that puts you in an uncomfortable situation, and causing you to give him a desperate and thinly-veiled half truth

Pairing: Loki x Reader

Word Count: 1.7k

Warning/s: one (1) cuss word (nope, not sorry, Rogers); other than that…none? i think? this is mostly fluff with a side of slight angst?

Things to be aware of: mutual pining, idiots in love, Thor being a himbo

"Lady Y/N, may I ask a rather…personal question?"

You made sure to shut your Kindle before you looked up at Thor, bracing yourself for whatever the god of thunder might throw your way. However, nothing could have prepared you for the next words that came out of his unnecessarily nosy mouth.

"Are you in courtship with my brother?"

The common area filled with the sound of your sputtering bumbling reaction, as well as the borderline derisive laugh from Loki, who sat beside you. In fact the question caught him so off guard that he'd carelessly slammed his book shut.

"Are you out of your mind?!" you blurted out just as the raven haired god said, "Brother, don't be absurd."

Bitch please, only in my dreams, you finished in the safety of your mind. He could do so much better than me and he probably knows it.

What you didn't know is that Loki kept quiet his own sentiment. I should only be so fortunate. Every shake of your head and flippant denial felt like a dagger burrowing deeper into his heart.

"We're friends, Thunder," you answered, again biting back the words of Of course I'd love to be more, but that's neither here nor there. "That's it and that's all."

"I see…" Thor replied, the fond smile growing on his face putting both you and his brother in discomfort. "I'm glad."

"Excuse me?" you managed to croak out despite the lump that suddenly formed in your throat.

"Well if my brother is not what you fancy then that could only mean--"

"Whoa whoa whoa hold on there, buddy," you stopped him before he could even think of finishing the sentence. "I'm not into you like that, can you believe this doofus?" You looked to the god seated beside you, who surprisingly seemed even more tense than you were.

Jaw tense, eyes slightly squinted as he assessed the blond seated across from you. His entire body language suggested he was readying himself for a fight, which had you confused to no end. What stake did he have in this situation?

"Lady Y/N, I am no 'doofus', I promise you that," Thor said haughtily, shifting his posture to puff his chest out. "I will have you know that back in Asgard many a--"

"Well you're not in Kansas anymore, Dorothy," you quipped. "I know you're gonna find it hard to get through that thick skull of yours, but not every woman with a pulse here wants to throw themselves at you pussy first. This isn't Asgard. And some people just like…different things."

You didn't dare even sneak a glance at the god of mischief beside you. But if you had, you would have seen that for a split second, his face lit up at your words. That for even a fleeting moment, he felt a glimmer of hope that perhaps because your fancies didn't lean towards his blond oaf of a brother, then there was even the slightest plausibility that he had a fighting chance to capture your attentions.

"Does that mean that you prefer…urgh what was it that Stark said about these unnecessary pedantic terms?" the blond Asgardian sighed. "Something about teams…?"

Your hand slapped down on the sofa, and you let out a frustrated groan. If he kept on prodding it wouldn't take long before he'd circle back to his brother and both of them would figure it out in record time. "Fine, Thor," you said, exasperated, throwing your hands in the air. "Yes. Not that it's any of your goddamn business, but yes. I am on the other team."

You really were. In a way. Just not in the way that Stark probably meant, considering that the billionaire genius didn't spend all that much time on social media these days.

So there was no way for him, or most of your teammates really, to know that the "teams" you were referring to were actually "Team Thor" or "Team Loki". Yes, the Internet was a messed up place that you wouldn't ever bother to understand at your fully grown age, but sometimes one of its considerably saner corners were mildly entertaining.

And in this case, that corner managed to wiggle you out of a near "egg on your face" situation.

"In that case, I hope you'll accept my sincerest apologies, Lady Y/N. For breaching on your privacy so--"

"Ham-fisted?" Loki spoke up, the slightest sneer still on his face. "As you always are?"

"Yes," he murmured. "Precisely. I hope this does not affect our friendship irreparably."

"Awww Thunder, of course it won't," you said with a click of your tongue, slightly feeling sorry for the goof that currently looked like a human embodiment of "sad wet dog". "Just give it a few weeks for that awkwardness to go away…because buddy you got me real worried there."

You stood up to take your leave from the common area, wanting nothing more than to get a drink and try to put all memories of the exchange behind you. Maybe if you acted fast you could hack your brain into not having to hold on to the trauma of watching how Loki's face curled up in disgust over even the thought of you two being perceived as a couple.

"Ohh! Lady Y/N, I distinctly remember that Lady Olivia in Research is also--"

"Appreciate the offer to wingman, Thor, but I'm all good, thanks!" you said over your shoulder, walking even faster to get out of there and return to your apartment.

Once you were out of earshot, Loki turned to his brother, conjuring a dagger in his hand pointed at the oaf. "What in the Nine was that, Brother?" he nearly hissed the last word. "This will be the last time I ever make the mistake of confiding in you who it is I wish to court. Norns, you cannot even help yourself, can you? Your ego is as fragile as rice paper that you have to prove that somehow everyone I ever set my sights on will prefer you."

"Loki, I--"

"Well in this rather unfortunate and might I say humiliating turn of events, at least I have been granted the fleeting consolation that she prefers neither of us. Perhaps I can derive some form of happiness from that--"

"Brother, I apologize," Thor blurted out. "I did not set out on this foolish endeavor of mine to scorn you and thieve away Lady Y/N's affections for myself. Though now I do understand how my actions may not translate consistently with my intent."

"No, no they really hadn't, you oaf."

"At the risk of my friendship with Lady Y/N, I posed those questions in hopes that perhaps she would have shown some inkling that your desire to have your friendship become something more was…reciprocated," he confessed. There was a somber look on his face as he continued on, "I truly am sorry for not bringing forth a more desirable outcome."

Loki stewed in his seat. He'd never known his brother to express even the most minute trace of allegiance to him in their youth. "All the others," he said accusingly. "When we were in Asgard, you consistently stole them away, why am I to believe that this time was different?"

"Brother, I know you may not believe me now, but please hear me when I tell you this. Those actions were not done out of greed. They were a test of loyalty. Theirs. To you. And each and every one failed," Thor explained somberly.

Just before he could let out a barb that in your case, the only failure was his own, the sounds of junior SHIELD agents' voices floated into the common area. "Look Sierra I get it, okay? We can all have different tastes and like different people, but we can also be wrong about some things. Like honestly after everything we've seen both of them do with our own damn peepers, how can you not be Team Thor?"

"I don't have to explain my choice in men to you, Ellie," the second agent spoke. "Besides you've always known that I like brunettes and I prefer the color gree--Ohh hey, you two!" The area filled with the grating sound of their heeled boots squeaking on the floor as their steps halted upon seeing the Asgardian brothers still seated on the couch.

"Ladies," Thor addressed them with a wide grin and a wave. Both women scampered off in the opposite direction, audibly flustered before they returned to their conversation.

Loki could pay them no mind, however, for their exchange suddenly gave new meaning to your words from earlier. "I am on the other team," he quoted you. When he looked up at his brother, it seemed the blond had come to the same realization, his face lit up with excitement as he stood to take his leave.

"It seems Lady Y/N has passed my ham-fisted test after all," he said triumphantly, clapping a hand down on his brother's shoulder. "Your lady."

Manners and decorum were the furthest thing from the god of mischief's mind as he stood abruptly, shrugging off his brother's hand. "I have somewhere to be," he mumbled, his mind racing with endless scenarios of how he would go about seducing you. Of where and when and how it would commence. If he should shower you with gifts, or perhaps whisk you away to one of Midgard's more picturesque destinations to create a breathtaking backdrop to his confession.

To the consummation of your affections for one another.

But then images of your features when you both brushed off Thor's prodding questions flashed through his mind, particularly the way you winced and squinted your eyes when he'd told his brother to not be absurd. And he knew that the only right scenario would be no tricks, no illusions. To come to you here and now.

He'd waited long enough. You both had.

A/N: Merry Christmas, everybody! This is yet another one of those ideas I had where I kept on shaking my brain hoping for some loose change in the form of ideas on how to get to my next story point, before ultimately realizing that this needed to be a 2-parter. Though who knows when part 2 will be posted because as my Discord status says, I am forever ✨drowning in a sea of WIPs✨ But just know that I'm fully intending for part 2 to be mostly some smuttery between these two 🤭

This might be my last story for 2024, but let's see where the final week of the year takes me. Anyways, I hope y'all have an amazing holiday with your families, I'm going back to working on 'the gallery™️'

'everything' taglist: @simplyholl @loopsisloops @imalovernotahater @coldnique @loz-3 @huntress-artemiss @salempoe @vickie5446 @athalialaufeyson @lokiprompts @kats72 @kikster606 @asgards-princess-of-mischief @lokixryss @thomase1 @mischief2sarawr @lovingchoices14 @lunarnights95 @goblingirlsarah @iamlokisgloriouspurpose @creationsbyme @maple-seed @mjsthrillernp @ladyofthestayingpower @mygfloki @sititran @glitterylokislut @ozymdias @fictive-sl0th  @lokidbadguy @mochie85 @silverfire475 @joyful-enchantress @elizabethmidnight2017 @holdmytesseract @smolvenger @gigglingtiggerv2 @lokidokieokie @lunarnights95 @superficialdomina @kmc1989 @november-rayne @goddessofwonderland @buttercupcookies-blog @peaky-marvel @lokiified @tom-hlover @dryyoursaltyoceantears @herdetectivetheorist @alexakeyloveloki @lulubelle814

[dreamertf]

Role Reverse

/muscle drain, muscle growth, straight to gay, dom to sub, sub to dom, masculinization

/Was on metabods and was inspired by this story

Jack and his roommate Cas weren't on great terms. Jack had moved in a few months ago, finding Cas through a listing on craigslist-- only the listing didnt mention that Cas was a complete bigot. Since the first day of moving in, Jack had been tormented by the tall jock. Cas egging him on for being trans and gay. The daily berating was getting annoying, and Jack wanted to move out but the lease wouldnt be over for a few more months.

As he was doomscrolling tiktok he got an ad for some sort of new social media app called Facets that seemed targeted at gay people.

Facets; each lens creating a new reality

He stared at the app as it downloaded, going through the preview pictures. The way the screenshots were presented made it look like there was some built-in ai photomanipulation that changes your pictures based on your tags. It made sense. Everyone was insanely attractive on the preview photos, inhumanely so.

Creating his account he had to input his information, it felt like a dating app.

Jack Engoff

Height: 5'6"

Weight: 210

Body type: Chub

Position: Verse

Gender: Trans Masc

Scrolling through the app, it was just like scrolling through the previews. Everyone was insanely hot.

Jack decided to get back at Cas a little, have a little fun. He knew that the jock fell asleep in the living room last night after getting home drunk, so he had complete access to him.

Sneaking quietly he stood in front of the behomoth on the couch, his breathing deep and heavy as his pecs rose and fell rhythmically. His thick muscular legs spread, revealing his huge member.

Jack hated how hot he was, he looked like all the other guys on the app.

He took a picture as he thought about what tags to put.

#bottom #skinny #powerbottom #twink #short #sub #femboy #wanttobedominated #thirstybussy

As he pressed post, the loading screen glitched out. Suddenly, a picture of a cute twink appeared. Short 5'5" lean frame with a bubble butt. His waist is small, and his face brimming with feminine masculinity. His previously spread legs were closed as his small dainty hands covered his crotch, his huge ass pointing up- his face down in the couch. He was practically swimming in his clothes, even though they had shrunk to accommodate his new body.

Jack loved seeing his tormenter brought down a few pegs, and he would be lying if he said he wasn't turned on.

---

He looked up in shock as the small twink in the photo manifested in front of him. His breathing wasn't heavy anymore, slight movement to his narrow shoulders as he slept peacefully.

Suddenly he heard slight muttering and moans come from cas.

"Oh Jackie.... im so tight.. please you're ripping me apart!" He moaned, his voice high pitched and sensual.

Jack was immediately turned on, he didnt know what to do.

If this app was able to do this, what could he do to himself?

He took a selfie as he formulated the perfect tags.

#powertop #dom #cisman #himbo #jock #bodybuilder #hugefeet #giant #hugeverywhere #model #abs #jawline #irresistible

He hit post as he ran to the bathroom to see his changes.

His patters became thuds as his feet grew out to size 15s.

He felt his bottom growth lengthen as it turned into a fully functioning penis, becoming thicker as his balls dropped-- becoming huge and juicy. His top surgery scars disappeared as he lost all his fat, his muscles defining themselves, becoming that of a god.

His broad shoulders pushed themselves out as his shirt completely disappeared, leaving his huge juicy tits in the cold air. His torso elongating as his abs popped into existence. He smiled as his adams apple dropped and became more prominent.

He flexed in the mirror, smiling as his face became extremely symmetrical and handsome. His curly hair grew out a tiny bit on top, giving him a lusty edge.

"Jackkkkkk is that you? Whats happening i feel so weak..."

He heard a voice come from behind him, standing in the doorway was Cas, dazed and confused.

Inside Cas was screaming, was he that hungover? Why was jack so much bigger than him.

"Hey baby" Jack said in his deep voice, as he spoke Cas immediately got hard-- his small two inch dick parely tenting his shorts.

Jack picked Cas up easily, kissing him as he brought the shorter man into the bedroom.

"I heard you muttering in your sleep, if you wanted me that bad why didnt you say?"

Cas blushed. It was undeniable how hot Jack was, but he wasn't gay! Cas leaned back in bed as the giant 6 foot 8 giant stood before him.

Seeing him in such a compromising position made jack's huge member immediately come to attention.

As he pulled down his sweats it flopped out, leaking warm goey thick pre as his giant foot long soda can wide dick ached for Cas.

Cas gasped, leaning forward as he felt an irresitable urge to worship Jack's body. Licking up the pre with his tongue as jack grabbed him by the hair.

"Good boy, keep licking and maybe ill fuck you."

[awakefor48hours]

I hate the tiktokifcation of the English language.

[inkskinned]

i got rickrolled today but it didn't work because i have adblocker installed, so youtube just told me i violated the terms of service. yesterday i was trying to edit a picture as a joke for my girlfriend, and google made me check a box to prove i'm human because i wasn't "searching normally".

it isn't just that capitalism is killing fun and whimsy, it is that any element of entertainment or joy is being fed upon by this mosquito body, one that will suck you dry at any vulnerability.

do you want to meet new friends in your city? download this app, visit our website, sign up for our email list. pay for this class on making a terrarium, on candlemaking, on cooking. it will be 90 dollars a session. you can go to group fitness, but only under our specific gym membership. solve the puzzle, sign up for our puzzle-of-the-month-club. what is a club if not just a paid opportunity - you are all paying for the same thing, which makes you a community.

but you're like me, i know it - you're careful, you try the library meetings and the stuff at the local school and all of that. the problem is that you kind of want really specific opportunities that used to exist. you are so grateful for libraries and the publicly-funded things: they are, however, an exception - and everything they have, they've fought tooth-and-nail to protect. you read a headline about how in many other states, libraries have virtually nothing left.

do you want to meet up with your friends afterwards? gift your friends the discord app. you can choose to go to a cafe (buy a coffee, at least), a bar (money, alcohol) or you can all stay in and catch a movie (streaming) or you can all stay in bed (rent. don't get me started) and scream (noise complaint. ticket at least).

you want to read a new book, but the book has to have 124 buzzwords from tiktok readers that are, like, weirdly horny. you can purchase this audiobook on audible! your podcast isn't on spotify, it's on its own server, pay for a different site. fuck, at least you're supporting artists you like. the art museum just raised their ticket price. once, they had a temporary exhibit that acknowledged that ~85% of their permanent art galleries were from cis white men, and that they had thousands of works by women (even famous women, like frida! georgia o'keefe!) just rotting in their basement. that exhibit lasted for 3 months and then they put everything away again.

walmart proudly supports this strip of land by the street! here are some flowers with wilting leaves. its employees have to pay out-of-pocket for their uniforms. my friend once got fined by the city because she organized a community pick-up of the riverfront, which was technically private property.

no, you cannot afford to take that dance class, neither can i. by the way - i'm a teacher. i'm absolutely not saying "educators shouldn't be paid fairly." i'm saying that when i taught classes, renting a studio went from 20 bucks an hour to 180 in the span of 6 months. no significant changes to the studio were made, except they now list the place as updated and friendly. the heat still doesn't work in the building. i have literally never seen the landlord who ignores my emails. recently they've been renting it out at night as an "unusual nightclub; a once-in-a-lifetime close-knit party." they spent some of those 180 dollars on LEDs and called it renovating. the high heels they invite in have been ruining the marley.

do you want to experience the old internet? do you want to play flash games or get back the temporary joy of club penguin? you can, you just need to pay for it. i have a weird, neurodivergent obsession with occasionally checking in to watch the downfall and NFT-ification of neopets. if i'm honest with you all - i never got into webkins, my family didn't have the money to buy me a pointless elephant. people forget that "being poor" can mean literally "if i buy you that toy, i can't afford rent."

you and i don't have time to make good food, and we don't have the budget for it. we are not gonna be able to host dinner parties, we're not made of money, kid. do you want some kind of 3rd space? a space that isn't home or work or school? you could try being online, but - what places actually exist for you? tiktok counts as social media because you see other people on it, not because they actually talk to you.

there was a local winter tradition of sledding down the hill at my school. kids would use pizza boxes and jackets and whatever worked, howling and laughing. back in september, they made a big announcement that this time, rules were changing, and everyone must pay 10 dollars to participate. when im not scared shitless, i kind of appreciate the environmental irony - it hasn't gone below 40. so much for snow & joyriding.

i saw a bulletin for a local dogwalking group and, nervous about making a good first impression, showed up early. the first guy there grimaced at me. "sorry," he said. "there's a 30-dollar buy-in fee." i thought he was joking. wait. for what? the group doesn't offer anything except friendship and people with whom to walk around the city.

he didn't know the answer. just shrugged at me. "you know," he said. "these days, everything costs money."

[notafunkiller]

she chose me

Summary: Steve's hopes get crushed when he wrongly assumes you'd choose him over Bucky.

Pairing: Bucky Barnes x agent!female reader

Warnings: 18+, no condom (but f is on birth control), teasing, pet names, jealousy, sergeant + sir + daddy kìnk, vibranium arm kìnk, language, degrading, praising, no mention of y/n etc.

Word Count: 6.9K

Bucky Barnes masterlist

A/N: I really hope you’ll enjoy it! This was inspired by the "She chose me." TikTok trend.

Please, do not repost or translate without my permission!

You’re all quiet, watching the back and forth between Cap and Bucky. Not even Sam intervenes.

“You didn’t-”

“This is just not gonna work, Buck.”

Bucky rolls his eyes, with an expression you like to describe as bitchy. He’s so sassy without even intending to, and you wonder how bitchier he’d be if this wasn’t his best friend talking.

“Let’s see if people agree.”

He looks around waving at you and the rest of the team while Sam just snorts, covering his mouth with his hand.

But you’re not amused because you have no idea how to handle this diplomatically.

“Whose side are you on?” Steve’s tone is deep and authoritative, making you feel a little uneasy.

You don’t know how to talk to Avengers sometimes. You are on friendly terms, even when you train. Sam always cracks jokes, Steve shares stories and gives advice, and Bucky is Bucky. Nat and Sam call him The Machine for a reason. But he’s a really good professor and an even better observer. He pays attention to every recruit and remembers what they need to work on. You find him extra intimidating because he’s also the most beautiful man you’ve ever seen. No exaggeration. And it’s not in the usual clean and golden boy way you are used to, anyway. He’s been through shit and it’s showing in the way he carries himself and doesn’t talk much when it’s not needed.

But you pay attention too, and this is why you think you were chosen to lead the recruits for this mission. You are on good terms with the Avengers, and Bucky probably approved the idea of working with you because you didn’t piss him off like most do. You know he hates chit chat, you learned how to read most of his stares and to not take it personally when he makes remarks about your fighting skills. They’re not your strongest asset, but you have a flair and you come up with the best solutions under pressure. You managed to pin him down once for a few seconds, and that is probably your greatest achievement.

But in moments like this, you don’t know how to say things without upsetting one side.

“You won’t get in trouble, don’t worry,” Bucky adds confidently. You’re not surprised when four out of your six colleagues agree with Bucky. They explain quickly why, emphasizing how much faster and efficient it would be if you followed that route, but their voices are still trembling. And you get it. Telling Captain America to his face you prefer his best friend’s plan over his will always be a risk. But if he gets mad, that says more about him as a leader than about anyone else.

Sam raises his hands in the air defensively, probably enjoying this as a show, but based on the looks he shares with Bucky, it seems like he agrees with him too.

You try to find your words, knowing you’re the last one from your team to speak, but before you can even open your mouth, Steve already smiles, pointing at you with his index finger. “Look at this, though! She agrees with me… She chose me.”

His grin is cold and a little arrogant. What you don’t notice, though, is the intention Steve had when he decided to use those exact words, but Bucky does. And he clenches his jaw at the same time his vibranium hand curls into a fist; a silent response to the not-so-innocent assumption that Steve made.

After a few seconds, Bucky leans in, his gaze steady and confident. “Did she?”

There is no way you would pick Steve’s plan. You are too smart and you have too much integrity to pick his side just to kiss his ass. He raises an eyebrow at you this time, a confident smirk forming on his lips. “Did you really choose him? You really think his plan would work better, doll?”

You feel surrounded by Bucky… attacked even. Your cheeks are getting hotter, too, and you know there is nothing you can do to hide your redness. Doll… He called you that when he turned you again on your back the day you managed to pin him down. It’s something about the way he says it that makes it absolutely deadly. Your first instinct was to be offended, but you reminded yourself he is a man born in 1917. He lived his twenties in the 40s, and doll was used as slang for sweetheart.

Taking a deep breath, you tilt your head slightly, directing your response to Steve. “It’s not about choosing sides, but considering all perspectives for the best outcome. And your plan, Captain, has its strengths, but I’m inclined to agree with Sergeant Bucky.” You bite your lip. “It’s about finding the most effective strategy for the mission, not a personal preference of any kind.”

Steve’s smile falls off, but your attention shifts back to Bucky’s grin that lightens up his face.

Fuck, fuck, fuck.

“Well, then,” Steve sighs. “Can I have a word with you in private?”

You don’t realize he’s speaking to you until he says your name.

Surprised, you jump. “Yes, of course.”

*

Steve leans back in his chair, a slight smile playing on his lips as you write down the last details. “You know, I value your insights on the mission.”

You look surprised because how can he value your opinion when this is your second mission only? He’s Captain America!

“Oh?”

“I trust your judgment, and your training is going great. If you and the team chose Bucky’s plan, then we do it.” You see his jaw clench, though, so you know it’s not easy for him to say it. Even if it’s his friend… interesting. “Maybe, when all is over, we could grab a cup of coffee and talk about other things. What do you think?”

You’re silent for a couple of seconds, trying to realize if he means it in the way you think he is. There is no way, right?

Just in case, you offer him a friendly smile, “Thanks, Cap! I value our teamwork too. Coffee sounds great after. It could be a good way for all of us to unwind as a team.”

He nods, sighing. “I’m glad you’re on board. I’m looking forward to that coffee, even if it’s with the whole team. And please, call me Steve.”

So he was flirting…

“Thank you,” you pause as you stand up. “I’m gonna talk with Sergeant Barnes so we can get things ready for tomorrow. Have a good night, Steve!”

*

You knock only three times before the door opens and a Bucky dressed in shorts and a white tank top lets you in with a smirk.

“Sergeant Barnes,” you nod as you take a step inside his bedroom. He only stays here before and after missions when he is too tired to go to his apartment, so you don’t expect to see any personal objects there except for a few clothes.

“What happened to Bucky?”

You look at him surprised, tightening your hold on the tablet you are holding.

What?

“Sir?”

Bucky closes his eyes for a second. “Earlier, during the meeting, you called me Sergeant Bucky.”

Shit!

Maybe you should start calling him Sergeant Barnes in your head as well to avoid these fucks up. You feel so embarrassed that you want to disappear. You don’t want him to think you disrespect him in any way. His rank carries a lot of weight and trauma.

You clear your throat, slightly flustered. “My apologies, Sergeant Barnes. It won’t happen again, sir.” You offer him an apologetic smile while trying very hard to maintain a professional tone.

Bucky’s smirk softens as he places his flesh hand on your shoulder. You feel your legs transforming into jelly.

“My point was, doll, there is no need to be so formal. We’re off-duty here, and titles aren’t necessary. Just call me Bucky.”

“Alright, Bucky,” you smile. “I’m sorry for bothering you, but I came to discuss the plan for tomorrow. I talked to Steve and we agreed it would be wise for you to lead the way as Mr. Wilson-”

“Steve?” Bucky interrupts before you can finish your sentence. He doesn’t even bother to look at your tablet, either.

“Yes, we talked in the office.”

“No, I get that. But you call him Steve? What happened to Cap?” Bucky knows that might sound really childish, but he can’t help it. What is Steve trying to do?

Was it some kind of test? Did you misunderstand everything with Steve?

“Oh, Cap allowed me to call him Steve earlier. I am sorry if it sounded disrespectful.”

He squeezes your shoulder even before moving his hand to your chin, raising your face, and you feel yourself blushing again.

The blue of his eyes is so intense that you can’t see how anyone would be able to survive it.

“You apologize too much, doll. I don’t like it.”

You can’t breathe. “Sor-” You pause, realizing he is right. Apologizing is second nature to you. It feels wrong when you don’t, and you do it without even thinking about it. “I guess I do that a lot. I’ll work on it, Bucky.”

“I’m not your teacher right now, doll.” He smiles, letting go of your chin. “Just remember, we’re not all about formalities here. Relax a bit.”

Easier said than done. But you need to keep it together and ignore the urge to grab his face and finally kiss him. So you focus on talking about the mission and the members of the team. You talk about all of your colleagues, and Bucky helps you take notes. He switched so easily from friendly to the sergeant mode, which is fascinating.

He explains step by step your positions, the way things are gonna happen and even two back up plans. Two!

You’re not overwhelmed by the amount of information, but you’re quite surprised by how much he talks and how well he answers every possible question any of you could have. You don’t think you’ve ever heard him speak for more than a few seconds continuously so you try to focus on every word.

Only when he finishes and you close your tablet after sending everyone the plan, do you see him relaxing again.

With a smirk, he asks you, “How did Steve take it?”

“He was fine with the plan, even suggested if we feel like doing it, to get one or two more members. But based on what you said, we won’t need it.”

“He has a point, of course, but if you said you don’t think you need it, good.” You try not to stare at his lips as he speaks, but it’s so hard. “And I meant how he took that you chose my plan. That you chose me.”

You meet Bucky’s gaze, trying to keep your composure, “Steve seemed more than okay with it from what I saw. He values the team’s decision. Plus, it’s not about choosing sides, and-”

“And not a personal preference of any kind,” he interrupts just to quote you, and you don’t know if you should feel flattered he remembers word by word or to prepare yourself for a negative reaction. To be honest, your head is spinning and him being so close makes it worse. “I heard you very well, but I’m curious…”

He extends his hand and carefully tucks your hair behind your ears. You swear you can hear your own heartbeat going crazy. And if you do, so does he.

“About what?”

“Would the answer be different if it was about personal preferences, doll? Would you choose him?”

You freeze. You are simply in shock because this cannot happen to you. From Steve asking you out earlier to your crush basically doing this. You’re confused and a little tired, but you didn’t imagine all of this. Does Bucky want you? Is that it?

You take a deep breath praying you won’t choke on the words. “In a hypothetical scenario based on personal preferences, Bucky, I would still not pick him.”

Your voice is trembling, but you maintain eye contact even after admitting it. You didn’t choose Bucky’s plan because of your crush, so you shouldn’t feel embarrassed or exposed. He’s the one who let you call him Bucky, who touched you and asked you that. You don’t know if he counts romance as a personal preference, but there is an urge inside you to find out. You wonder how he’d taste, if he’d kiss you back if you kissed him first, how your mission would be if you crossed the line. Your thoughts are foggy.

“So you’d choose me.”

You clear your throat. “Yes.”

“Over Captain America.” His grin is so boyish and cute that it makes you smile. He looks younger and less… burdened when he gets like this. Bucky chuckles, a mischievous glint in his eyes, “Well, well, well. Looks like I got someone not kissing Captain America’s ass for a change. That’s really rare. You’re a naughty one, aren’t you?”

You mask your gasp with a cough, deciding to play along, a sly grin forming on your face. “Maybe I just have a thing for underdogs.”

Bucky’s eyes light up with amusement to your annoyance but also excitement, and he leans in, taking the tablet from your hand and placing it on the floor without a care. “Underdogs, huh? Ouch, that hurt a little. I thought I was your favorite super-soldier.”

You can’t help but giggle, feeling enough encouragement from his reaction to touch his vibranium arm just to feel it. You got the chance to do it only for a couple of seconds and it always fascinated you, especially the golden pattern. The fact he can feel everything because it’s connected to his nerves is insane to you. It probably is to him too. “Oh, you are. And my favorite teacher too. But a little competition never hurts, Sergeant Barnes.”

You can see he feigns offense. “Competition, huh?” Bucky’s playfulness turns into a serious tone as he adds, “Well, let me show you why I’m the only choice.”

And without warning, he closes the distance between you and kisses you.

You gasp, taken aback, but you bring your hands to his face and hip before you deepen the kiss. He’s not as gentle as you expected, his left arm flying to your ass and bringing your hips closer to his immediately.

You moan when you feel his hard on so close to your pussy, and tug on his hair a little.

“Aren’t you a naughty girl?” He lowers his lips to your jaw. “I could basically smell how wet you got earlier as soon as I called you doll. And so did Steve.”

You want to open your eyes and tell him to stop talking about his friend. You don’t want to be turned off, but he already continues.

“He thought he stood a chance with my girl.”

“Your girl?” You whimper when his teeth graze your neck before his tongue licks on the spot. He intends to leave a mark, you have no doubt, and you absolutely love it.

“Mine.” His whisper makes you shiver. “I want to mark you. The thought of having you covered in hickeys during the mission makes me so hard it almost hurts. Gonna show everyone you belong to me.”

“Do I belong to you, Sergeant Barnes?” You take a step back but let your hand linger on his chest teasingly. “Because I don’t remember you asking me to dinner.”

Bucky grins. “Dinner is a classic move, and I adapted very well to the present. But of course I can stop with the kisses right now, and we can have some late dinner.”

You roll your eyes at his unbelievably good answer. Fucker!

“This is not what I meant, Barnes, and you know it.”

“I don’t know it. But I want to know something else.”

You don’t even doubt he means something dirty because it’s too obvious.

“Like what?”

“Like how your pretty pussy tastes while you come all over my face.”

You gasp at the no-filter words. You’re so used to Steve’s warning you to use proper language, that you did not expect it.

“I thought men your age were all about being proper and refined… Don’t they teach subtlety in the 40s etiquette class or did you skip it?”

You tease him on purpose, and he knows it. You are well aware what a nerd he was in school. Such a nerd that it was displayed in the museum. You snort. You were a nerd too, so you love it.

Bucky chuckles, a mischievous gleam in his eyes as he brings his hands to your pants, unzipping them without warning. Holy. Shit. The way you love this. He reads your body language very well and he has his super soldier senses.

“Well, doll, proper and refined went out the window with the 40s, right? Because otherwise you’d not be standing here letting me undress you.”

You raise your eyebrow, a mix of surprise and amusement on your face. His energy is so light, and he looks like a man without a worry in moments like this.

“You’re the one who offered to show me what the little upgraded version of you can do, after all.” You take off your shoes before pulling down your pants as soon as he drags them to your ankles. You can’t believe you’re about to fuck James Bucky Barnes! “Why would I say no?”

“Just sit back and enjoy the ride, doll. Gonna make sure you have the time of your life.”

You snort, amused by his eagerness, and decide to take off your shirt yourself to see his reaction. And he doesn’t disappoint.

He grins like a child, his hands flying straight to your back without taking his eyes off your chest. And before you know it, your bra is on the floor and Bucky cups your breasts, bringing your left tit to his mouth.

If you gasped when you felt the cold touch of the vibranium, now you moan loudly, enjoying the way he licks around your skin. He avoids your nipple on purpose, so you decide to take matters into your own hands quite literally and get a grab of the top of his hair, forcing him to suck on your nipple.

“Fuck! I didn’t expect you to be so whorish,” you say without realizing, and you feel his snort and breath on the wet patch he left with his tongue.

Bucky’s grin turns into a sly smirk. “This is what you call whorish? I guess I’ll give you an experience you won’t ever forget.”

“Talk less, do more.”

You want to enjoy more of this. You have a mission in a few hours, and it might be just a one time thing anyway since he is Bucky Barnes. You don’t want to get your hopes high.

Bucky lets go of your breast with a pop and moves up, raising your head so he can kiss you.

It’s electrifying, and desperate, and not enough. You move your hands to the bottom hem of his tank top and lift it, interrupting the kiss so you can take it off completely. You just want to feel him, all of him.

You step back for a second, wanting to look at him properly, but you notice a change in his eyes that he, of course, tries to mask.

“Why are you nervous? You look like a fucking god! I should be nervous here.”

Bucky’s eyes flicker with vulnerability.

“I guess I’m not used to someone seeing my scars or my,” he waves toward his vibranium arm, and you frown.

“I will sound totally weird, but they all make you really cool, Serge.” You trace down a few scars when you see he is completely relaxed and continue. “Do I have to lick them all to make you believe me?”

You move your hands under his shorts before he can answer, though, finally touching his cock. You both moan at the feeling. He’s hard and thick, and the head is wet. You bring your fingers to his lips, smearing some of the precome before leaning in to suck it off.

You’re not prepared for his moan or for the way he attacks your mouth, and definitely not for him to snap your underwear using his flesh hand. Not even his vibranium one!

You moan into his mouth. He makes you feel like you’re floating and you need to fuck him right then.

“You’re not just whorish, you’re a whore!” You pause when you feel his fingers close to your entrance. “No wonder why you didn’t belong in the 40s.” Then you move, allowing him to touch you. You don’t realize what you said, and when you do, in the middle of dragging his shorts down, you curse yourself in your mind. It sounds like the most disrespectful thing ever. This man’s fate was changed by monsters who cryogenically freezing him and brainwashing him, and you are selfishly talking as if he belonged to you. “I’m sorry that was awful of-” But he interrupts you before you can get a chance to properly apologize.

“You like that, don’t you?”

A wave of shame surges through your body. Your cheeks are burning.

“I’m really sorry,” you take your hands off his shorts and look away, not even peaking at his cock. You ruined it, didn’t you? “I will just go.”

Bucky shakes his head, puffing. “For such an amazing agent, you’re not a good room reader, are you?”

Your eyes finally drop to his cock, which you’ve been trying to avoid in the last minute out of shame, but there’s no need anymore since he’s teasing you. He’s just a bit longer than average, and he’s really thick, and the veins do not make it ugly at all. You are curious how it’d feel in your hand, how much it’d twitch, how Bucky would moan.

“You aren’t a good room reader, either then, Barnes, since I’m not getting dicked down and my hair pulled, am I?”

Something snaps in him, and it’s visible in his eyes. You don’t know what to expect so you just watch him. But you can’t. He is so quick that, despite your crazy training, you don’t anticipate his move. His hand wraps around the hair from your nape and fists it hard enough for you to move along with him.

“Wanna be dicked down? Fine by me, get on your hands and knees.”

You’re surprised, of course you are, but his tone is firm and you find yourself nodding and doing what he told you. You know you can say no; there is nothing in Bucky’s energy that makes you feel unsafe or as if you have no choice.

At the same time, he lets go of your hair just so he can take off his shorts completely.

“Are you not gonna make sure I’m wet enough for you?” You ask when you see him getting closer to you again, even though you are very wet. You just want to push his buttons.

“I can smell you if I focus on it, let me remind you.” He smiles. “I know you’re soaked, and you wanna be dicked down. Or are you backing off?”

Challenging prick!

You roll your eyes. “I’m not scared of your dick.”

“Good, because he wants to be friends with you.”

You close your eyes, cringing. “God, you were this close to turning me off.” You raise your hand in the air, putting your weight on the left one as you bring your thumb and index finger close to each other to show him exactly what a thin line this was.

Bucky laughs, shaking his head. “Don’t worry, I’m gonna make you forget it in a second.”

Your first instinct is to want to tease him about the second remark, to ask him if this is how long he can last, but you’re too horny now. And you also need rest for the mission tomorrow.

“How, uh…” You pause not knowing how to ask this properly. “Can you, uh, make babies?” You cringe at your words. “I mean, widows can’t… and I just wanted to know if we need a condom to be extra careful since you might be extra fertile because I am on the pill and I have no idea how sex with a super sold-”

Bucky’s lips press against yours suddenly, making you stop talking.

“Breathe.”

“I’m breathing,” you whisper and he cups your face.

“Not enough. We can use a condom if you want, but I’ll need to check where I can find one. Or we can go bare if you trust me… I can pull out and you are already protected, so there shouldn’t be a problem, I think.” He pauses to kiss your lips again. “But we can still use a condom anyway to be extra careful as you said.”

You frown at that, suddenly more desperate to feel him bare than ever before.

“No, I trust you. I have never done it without a condom before, and I assume you didn’t have much time to uh… have sex.”

Bucky snorts amused. “Now why do you assume that?”

“You look like you haven’t been fucked since 1945.”

The fact he doesn’t even deny it makes you feel even bolder, so you reach for his cock and place your thumb on his wet head while wrapping the rest of your hand around the length. “Are you gonna even last for a second once you’re inside me, Sergeant Barnes?” You snort when you see him trying to hold back his moan by biting his lip. It makes you feel happy. “Or do you even manage to get inside me before- ahh!” He is predictable this time as he pulls your hair, so you laugh.

“Are you familiar with this whole red, yellow, green color code?”

You gasp. “Yes, read about it, never needed it. But how do you know that?”

“I read about it, too.” His grin is so wide and beautiful that you melt again.

“Quite naughty of you, Serge. Reading dirty books. Needed some ideas?”

Bucky smirks, kissing you again and again. “Gonna need a review after I finish with you.”

“You finishing with me?” You smile. “Big words, Barnes, but no action.”

He knows you challenge him, and you don’t try to hide it. Do you have to beg for his cock for him to finally fuck you? He is edging you on purpose at this point.

You let out a whimper in anticipation when he moves behind you.

“Are you sure you’re fine with no condom?”

“Ihm, I’m not ovulating anyway,” you whisper, trying not to sound too eager. But you are. You want to get dicked down, indeed. And you wanted it for months.

His silence makes you a bit nervous, but the sounds of him dropping to his knees behind you, followed by his hand grabbing his cock and positioning it at your entrance while squeezing your hip with the metal arm.

You love the sensation of the coldness, but you love even more when he leans in to kiss your back before he pushes inside you.

It takes two tries, though, for him to be able to push halfway inside you because you kept pushing his dick out of you instantly. You managed to take him only when he brought his fingers to your clit and rubbed a bit.

You still laughed though because the sounds were too funny and his little frustrated whimpers were hilarious. The amusement turns quickly into more horniness when you feel him stretching you without even being fully inside you. You dreamed and daydreamed about it… fantasized about it, but it still wasn’t even close to how it actually feels. How full it feels. It’s like you cannot even think, your body is weak.

“Fuck,” your voice is cracking. “Deeper.”

“You’re so fucking tight,” he whispers.

“So?” You bring your hand to his ass, trying to show him you really need it deeper. “Why do you make it sound like a bad thing? Or are you trying not to come, Mr. Super Soldier?”

“You have quite a mouth on you, I think you need it-”

“You talk way too much. Are you nervous or-” It’s his turn to interrupt you with a thrust. Such a deep thrust your head is spinning. He’s not fully inside you, you realize, but he doesn’t try to, instead, he starts to fuck you, taking your breath away. His fingers leave your clit, grabbing your hips with both hands.

There is no question anymore, just fucking as you wanted.

And it feels like heaven. You try to keep your eyes open just so you look at him over your shoulder, but it’s impossible.

“Cat got your tongue?”

You groan. “No, you did, n-now fuck me harder.”

“Well, well,” he slows down and you almost wanna die. “This is not how you talk to your Sergeant, is it?”

He can’t do this!

“Fuck you!”

“What does my baby want?” His thrusts are too slow and teasing, just like his voice. “Use your words, beg for it.”

You’re not turned off, surprisingly. Not at all, on the contrary, the firm tone he uses, the words… you’re getting hornier, if that is even possible.

“I love your cock, Sergeant, so please give it to me. Fuck me harder and faster. Need you to pull my hair, and choke me, and… be rough.” You would be embarrassed if you weren’t so desperate. You know he wouldn’t make fun of you for this, so you trust him.

“Only mine.” You take a deep breath relieved when you feel his right hand wrap around your hair. “Do you hear me? Answer me.”

You nod, unable to say anything because he starts to thrust hard and fast, just like he did before he stopped. Your tits are jumping at the impact, and you have to dig your toes into the floor.

“Use your words. If you want my,” he moans. “If you want my cock and my hand wrapped around your neck, you have to use your big girl words. Tell me you’re only mine.”

You can’t hold back your tears this time. You love it so much, you can’t believe you waited so long to have him.

“Only yours.”

“No Steve.”

He lets go of your hair, wrapping his hand around your neck. No pressure, not moving it, he’s just holding it there.

“There’s n-no Steve, Sergeant. Only you. My pussy belongs to you. I o-only want to get filled by you.”

You know he’s smiling without needing to look at him.

“You love your Sergeant’s cock, don’t you?” You have no idea how he’s able to speak while thrusting so hard. He’s a fucking robot, indeed. “No one else could give you this, no matter how much they tried.”

You feel the building in your core. You’re so, so close already, so you try to place your weight on only one hand and bring the other to cover his, and before he can say something, you encourage him to choke you by pressing his fingers on the sides of your neck.

You moan so loudly you surprise even yourself. You sound like a cat.

“Please, sergeant, please, choke me.” You repeat your move and you close your eyes. “Please, daddy, I’m so c-close.”

He pauses for a second, and you don’t know why.

Before you can ask what’s wrong, he doesn’t just start to thrust inside you again, he dicks you down just the way you wanted. It’s as if he fucks the air out of your lungs every time you exhale. You’re crying and screaming at this point, so loud the whole floor must hear you. But you’re not ashamed. You feel so close you can almost taste it.

You barely hear his whimpers, but they’re there and they’re so beautiful.

You get no warning when he decides to squeeze the sides of your neck: gently at first, but then? Perfect. So perfect you come without warning, not being able to even say his name. You just scream some nonsense, your hand dropping from his to the floor so you can ground yourself properly. Your whole body is burning, and burning, and burning, coming alive for what feels like an eternity.

He doesn’t wait even for a second after you come down from your orgasm. Instead, he gets his dick out of you, grabbing you by your ass and raising you in his arms. Still weak, you barely have the strength to wrap your legs around his waist and your hands around his neck. He’s sweaty but not that hot. His metal arm is making you cool down.

“Daddy’s gonna take good care of you.” His lips find your forehead and you fight the urge to kiss his neck. You feel so small in his arms… and as if no one can hurt you.

You’re smiling like a fool when your back hits his bed, and so is he. Such a beautiful, blinding smile.

You let him spread your legs before you drag his face down so you can kiss him. You bite his lip hard until he opens his mouth, moaning when you feel him entering you again. This time, you’re relaxed so he thrusts inside you so much easier.

“Gonna make you come again around your daddy’s cock..”

His hands wrap your legs around his ass when he starts to thrust again.

“You’re quite… into it, Sergeant Barnes. So dirty!”

He gently grabs your jaw. “Tongue out.”

You do it, opening your mouth and waiting, and waiting until you finally understand what he’s about to do.

Instead of being grossed out, as you expected, you eagerly swallow the saliva that he lets drip from his mouth, which lands on your tongue.

You bat your eyes as you start to move your hips to meet his thrusts halfway, and that sends him into a frenzy.

“Fucking hell, you don’t want to sleep tonight, do you?” He asks sarcastically, but you don’t have enough air to tease him with a stamina comment. “You want me to make you scream and swallow my spit and come till we have to go to that fucking mission. Till your beloved Steve needs to come to us himself and hear us covered in come but still fucking.” You moan at the idea of your teammates finding out about this. You get awful comments anyway; at least you can get him for real and rub it in their faces. “You would like that, wouldn’t ya? Having all my undivided attention on you, not caring that my best friend is mad…” The thrusts are so deep that your head falls on the pillow instantly. You cannot keep your eyes open for even a second and you’re crying again. “Not caring my pal wanted you so badly he even tried to take you out tonight.”

“Sergeant-”

Thrust after thrust. You grab his forearm as tightly as you can so you can have something to hold onto.

“He thought he could have you, that you’d choose him. Come on, love. Come on, scream my name, let them hear. Let them all hear whose cock you cry for. Who is the one you belong to.” His balls slap against your skin so hard they tickle you. But not even that can distract you from almost reaching your orgasm. His words, his cock, his possessiveness…

“Sergeant, please. No one but you, can I… c-can I touch my clit? I’m so, so close.”

You don’t have to, though, because he is quick enough to bring his flesh hand between your bodies and rub your clit just the way you need it.

“F-fuck, coming,” you manage to warn him before the pleasure hits you. It’s so overwhelming you see white, digging your nails into his forearm.

You don’t know what you call him… daddy, Bucky or sergeant, but it doesn’t matter. You hear his praise, how you’re his good girl, and his words encouraging you to come for him.

When you can focus again, you kiss him with everything you have.

“Need you to come for me, Sergeant Barnes,” you whisper between kisses. “Need you to come inside me, need you to fill me up with your come, sir.”

He hisses loudly, his eyes being more grey than blue.

“Don’t tease me.”

“I mean it,” you make eye contact, wrapping your legs tighter around him. “Not the heat of the moment. I need your come, daddy. I’m on birth-”

He kisses you so hard your teeth end up hitting, but you don’t care. This is everything.

“Gonna come, gonna give you what you want. Gonna make you my come s-slut. Is that what you needed?”

“Yes, yes.” You’re so excited to watch him finish you don’t even realize how much you like being called his come slut until he says it again. “Come on, Sergeant, come for me.”

After you say that, it only takes him two more thrusts to finish, moaning your name.

His eyes close, and you notice how pretty his eyelashes are. And the little moles on his face… his mouth semi-open and his hair in all directions.

You want to witness this every day.

Before you can stop yourself, you lean in to kiss his nose and cheeks, letting your hips move at the same time.

“C-can’t… doesn’t stop,” he manages to groan, and you bring your hand to his nape, caressing his hair as he rides out his orgasm.

When he finally finishes, though, his head falls on top of your breasts, his mouth finding your nipple and playing with it before sucking it fully into his mouth.

“Easy, Bucky,” you moan, but he keeps going, though.

You have to pull his hair, to make him stop.

“Don’t get me wrong, I love it, but I need to uh… I’m tired.”

You’re back to your shy self. But his smile still makes you feel so relaxed.

“Got you tired, huh?” He winks, giving your breasts a kiss before pressing his lips against yours. “Fuck, I’ve never been so aroused in my entire life. Won’t even mention how happy I am.”

“Me neither,” you whisper.

“Well, we need to get used to it.”

You laugh so happily that you think your chest will explode. It’s surreal.

“You owe me that dinner after all.”

“A million dinners.”

You roll your eyes playfully. “Trying to charm me?”

He pecks you one more time before getting out of you with a whimper.

“I’ve already done it.”

It’s weird to be empty like this again, but seeing your come and wetness on his pubic hair or dripping out of your pussy just to soak the sheets beneath you distracts you. You made a mess.

“We need to clean this.”

“Don’t worry about it,” he says distractedly as he uses his index finger to push some come back inside you. Jesus! “This is the hottest thing I’ve ever seen.”

You smile. “You’re a whore.”

“Your whore.” He slowly gets out of bed, grabbing his shorts from the floor.

“Want me to go?” You ask all of a sudden, gaining a confused look from him.

“Why would I want that? Unless you do, of course…” He runs a hand through his hair, trying to fix it a little. “But I want you to stay.”

“Saw you dressing.” You bring your knees up just to put your chin on top of them. You feel extra shy.

He smiles. “Just gonna get you some water. I don’t want you dehydrated.”

*

Bucky knew Steve was in the kitchen as soon as he went down the stairs. He smiles casually, not giving him a second look as he goes straight to the fridge. It’s not like he hasn’t seen him in shorts or shirtless before, and Bucky knows he knew exactly what happened upstairs.

“Can’t sleep?” Steve’s tone is so obvious Bucky almost laughs.

“Not sleepy yet. What about you? You’re alright, punk?”

“Yeah,” he says, taking a sip from his own glass of water; his hands tightly wrapped around the glass.

“Still mad about earlier? You know I’m right.”

Steve shakes his head. “No, it’s all good.”

Bucky sighs dramatically. He loves Steve, he is his brother, but sometimes he is so annoying.

“Well, try to get some sleep. I suggest you wear some earplugs or something, though,” Bucky suggests casually, taking a whole bottle of water. “We wouldn’t want you too sleepy tomorrow. And the night is young.” He even winks at Steve, making him clear his throat.

“Buck…”

“Not a super soldier perk, I know, but you understand, right?” The smirk he suddenly gives Steve is almost sinister. “She chose me after all, and I gotta let her test-drive me. Have a good night!”

Even though he turns around, Bucky doesn’t miss the way Steve’s hold gets so tight that his glass almost breaks.

Bucky doesn’t regret it. He had it coming when he thought you’d choose him.

[tellafairy]

︎ ︎ ︎ ︎ ︎ ︎ ︎ ︎ ︎ everything you've been wondering about LOA + information about my journey ♡

so if you've been following my page for a while then you know i've changed the entirety of my life simply using loa. in this post, i want to go over things i've spoke about on here, loa terminology, how i manifest, what i've manifested, and everything else i want you to know. i ask that you read this before ever asking me a question, because it is likely i have answered it here and will not respond to your question if it's already been answered. i will seperate this into sections so it's easier to read. you are entitled to disagree with my pov on things but please keep your responses kind and respectful. with that being said ; i hope this helps ♡

— PART 1 : what have i manifested?

My exact desired girlfriend

University acceptance

Revision of bad grades

University financial aid / grants

My desired face and features; such as bigger eyes, a mole under my eye, smaller nose, different facial structure, facial symmetry, etc.

A change in my weight distribution

Weightloss without effort

Altering my speaking & singing voice

Free food & drinks

Being gifted desired items often

Multiple old friends reaching out

People who did me dirty apologizing & asking for forgiveness

Health and safety for my family, friends and pets

Financial stability for myself, a close friend and my mother

Becoming friends with multiple people i saw on netflix, youtube, or tiktok

Multiple job opportunities

Progression in my music career + music based job offers

Natural dental repair

Dual citizenship

Longer hair + different curl pattern

Getting invited out 24/7 and constantly having people who want to hang out with me

PR packages from my favourite brands

Viral videos / posts

p.s this is absolutely not everything, just the primary things i want to mention.

— PART 2: HOW?

the simple answer is affirmations. the long answer, is also affirmations.

no matter what method you use, you're always going to be affirming somehow. saturation tends to be my choice of affirming and i used it quite often when manifesting things that seemed "major" as it always helps me remind myself that nothing is truly out of reach or to big to manifest, even if it seems that way at first. the type of affirmations i use tended to switch based on what felt most natural to me in the moment. of course there were some affirmations that came up again and again for certain desires, but overall when affirming — especially during saturation sessions, i honestly find it fun to just go on and on about your desire in a way where you're speaking like you already have it. because you do, you're simply just reminding yourself and overpowering the thoughts that state otherwise. i believe your affirmations should always be what feels best to you. in short; choose whatever affirmations you want, because it doesn't matter really. as long as your affirmation aligns with your desire.

put it this way; if i want a tesla for my birthday which affirmation should i use? "i already have a tesla" or "i got a tesla for my birthday!" ?? the answer is either one! both align with the desire (a tesla) and you already know in the back of your head when you want it (for your birthday) so it really doesn't matter how the affirmation is formatted because either way you're telling yourself it's already yours. there isn't a cheat code of affirmations that are going to make your desires yours. whatever you believe works, works. sure — some affirmations may feel more powerful. but the truth is, you give them power. you choose what works and what doesn't. that is how my manifestations are mine. i simply decided that whatever affirmations i said in the moment, worked. and filling my mind with these affirmations only made me believe it even more.

here is a specific post i made about grade revision & uni acceptance for another in depth and real life example; grade revision

— PART 3: SPECIFIC TERMS

there are alot of terms within the loa community that i tend to see people get confused by or not fully understand. so i want to go a bit in depth about the terms and how they are used within loa.

3D VS 4D: opinions on this always vary, in some way but the general understanding tends to be the same. the 3D is your outer world while your 4D is your inner world aka your imagination. the 3D is a mirror of the 4D with persistence. the 4D is truly the only thing that matters as anything within the 3D can change or occur according to your persistence in tbe 4D. still confused? see the post i've linked, it explains a bit more in a way i think most will be able to understand. https://www.tumblr.com/cutiescute/694055506946424832/3d-4d-and-what-happens-when-you-manifest

Revision : revision really is just another form of loa but it's usually separated when spoken about, based on the grounds that it proposes the idea of manifesting a change in a specific event or situation that has already occurred in the 3d. for example, i used revision for my grades. despite already being showed my "bad grades" by my guidence counsiler, i altered the memory of my grades being bad and erased whatever ideas my counsiler tried to put into my head — souly by assuming and repeating that my grades were perfectly fine. another example i can give you is one i've seen a lot recently but also ive used myself — revision for pets. basically, in my own experience, when my dog got sick the vet had told me she would die very soon and there wasn't necessarily any beneficial treatment we could give her. all i did, was assume the opposite and repeat to myself affirmations that firmed the belief that my dog was perfectly fine. this reflected the idea that the vet had told me that my dog was sick — rather, that the vet told me my dog was perfectly healthy and would live a long healthy life. to conclude, this all happened last year and my dog is very much still alive and healthy to this day. revision isn't that complicated and it is just another form of loa.

saturation: saturation is another popular loa method. the name kind of speaks for itself, it's basically where you spend time saturating yourself in the knowing of your desires, reminding yourself they're yours. you can do this multiple ways — affirming, scripting, visualizing, etc. do whatever feels best for you.

persisting: persisting by definition means maintaining a unwavering belief in your desired outcome regardless of external circumstances or delays. to expand, despite the circumstances in your physical reality or the fact you may start to think your desire is "taking to long" or "not here yet". this tends to be the hardest part for some people as they find trouble in not letting circumstances define your entire reality and sometimes let the thoughts of their desire taking to long, not coming or not being able to manifest due to circumstances, overpower the actual desire. this is why some choose to manifest a better self concept and utilize mental discipline to get their thoughts in check and prevent wavering. this usually helps them fully come to terms and comprehend the fact that they are the creator of their reality and absolutely limitless. Persistence is key and your outer reality will always reflect whatever desires your inner reality persists in. the more you persist in the belief that your desired is already fulfilled the more it is solidifies! persisting is truly the only thing you need when manifesting, methods like the void state, saturation and stats do give people a piece of mind, help alter their thoughts and feelings revolving around manifestation — but throughout everhthing persisting is the number one thing that makes loa, loa.

SATS: sats is another manifestation method, please read my in depth explanation if you'd like to learn more! here https://www.tumblr.com/tellafairy/761668338100338688/get-anything-you-desire-overnight-what-is-sats

the void state: the void state is a state of pure consciousness where there is no thoughts, emotions, or physical sense — only awareness. the void state in another way for instant manifestation and most like to use it when manifesting multiple things at once or when shifting their self concept. but it is not necessary what so ever considering manifestation is also instant without the void state. the void state can be entered through affirmations, relaxation techniques such as meditation and of course — persistence.

— PART 4: COMMON QUESTIONS + CONCERNS

"can i manifest __"

yes, you are limitless. it does not matter what other people have manifested or what others think it "impossible" you create your reality. please be your own proof. don't worry about whether there are sucess stories that reflect your desires, you should be the sucess story.

"i want to manifest someone but they are a celebrity or already in a relationship, what if someone else is manifesting my desires person?"

celebrities are people to, nobody has free will in your reality and a status doesn't matter. you can meet people in the most random way possible, that includes celebrities. this also applies for 3p. (3p = 3rd person, anyone outside of you and your SP). 3p doesn't matter nor exist in your desired relationship, so why worry? you don't need to take action or try and do anything to remove 3p, all you need is the understanding that 3p does not place any limits on you and your sp's relationship. lastly — your reality is your reality and another persons is another persons. if you manifest someone, then they're yours and you won't see them with another person. and vice versa. it may be hard to understand, but reality is limitless and your reality is your reality, so don't worry about others manifestations.

"is it wrong to manifest and shift realities? can i do both? how or why is it possible to do both?"

please see this post: https://www.tumblr.com/tellafairy/768871751262306305/why-do-so-many-manifesters-shift-to-different

"is it wrong to manifest __"

morals are different for everyone. if you feel something is wrong to manifest, that is your pov and shouldn't define others realities. if you feel guilty about manifesting something, think of an alternative solution. for example, if you dislike someone but feel guilty about manifesting them out of your reality, an alternative solution may be manifesting a change in their personality. always remember to stick to your own views and what will make you truly happy.

"how will my manifestation happen?"

you can either decide or just let it happen. the how doesn't necessarily matter unless you want it to matter. you can manifest something happening in a specific way or just manifest that something and let it happen however it happens. i've gotten things in absolutely random ways and i've gotten things exactly how i've imagined getting them. it's your decision, just know in the end it is yours and the way it plays out doesn't change that.

"i'm worried i'm running out of time to get my desires"

your desires are already yours. time doesn't matter when manifestation is instant. age revision (revising the age you are or the year you were born) may also be a good tool for those of you who worry about time.

"i can't stop obsessing over my desires? is it bad?"

obsessing over your desires isn't necessarily bad. a while ago i read a quote that stated "you want it so bad, because future you already has it", and i think that's the best way to put things. it's normal to feel an overwhelming sensation when thinking about your desires, it's normal to be obsessed with the idea of them... because they're already yours — you just need to understand that. obsession doesnt have to be negative. you can easily make your obsession positive. for example; when i first decided i wanted a change in my appearance, my obsession with it was somewhat negative. i kept telling myself; "these subliminals aren't working!!" "ugh nothings changed". i was very obsessed with the idea of my appearance becoming how i desired but not actually changing - therefore, my outer world reflected these constant thoughts. but overtime, i learned how to change my obsession into something more positive. instead of being obsessed with the idea of my appearance changing, i became obsessed with the end results. my thoughts changed from the ones i stated above, to things like "i am so in love with my appearance" and "wow my eyes look even bigger today than they did yesterday... they just get bigger every day" even if i occasionally thought nothing actually changed, i quickly remembered to switch back to the positives and remind myself it has changed no matter what. i didn't completely ignore my thoughts, or erase the obsession with my desires. instead, i simply switched from being obsessed with the idea - to being obsessed with the results.

"do subliminals work? how should i listen to them"

subliminals, like any other manifestation method, work if you believe they work. you can listen to them over night, while working or doing homework, while working out... literally however you want!

— PART 5: END MESSAGE

Despite how long this is, i want you to know manifesting really isn't complicated. some of you may read this and leave with the exact same information you came in with — and if that's the case, i am begging you to GET OFF TUMBLR in the nicest way possible. you know everything and there's nothing else you need. just apply, and it will occur. stop overcomplicating things for yourself, it seems simple because it is simple. i want you to read this and know that no matter what your circumstances are, you have the power to change anything and everything and create anything and everything you want. i have said this countless times on here but my past before loa was horrible and i often used shifting as an escape from the reality i so desperately held onto. but with only loa, without any effort what so ever outside of my mind, i changed the entire path of my life and gained the beautiful simple life i didn't want to shift for. please never give up on yourself or loa. you are the creator, take notice of your power, understand it and utilize it.

p.s again : i apologize for any spelling or grammar mistakes ♡

[genderkoolaid]

The transandrophobia brainrot has hit tiktok hard. There's a sound going around right now that uses the T slur in a reclamatory way, but whenever a transmasc person uses the sound people lose their minds saying it's transmisogynistic for them to use that word. But when cis male drag queens use the audio it's a slay.

My answer to those people is Get Kate Bornstein'd:

Tranny. Many people don’t know the history of the word, they assume it was an assigned hate term or slur along the lines of the “n” word. That’s not how it happened. Tranny was invented by us in Sydney, Australia in the 1970s where drag was a big deal, and still the best drag shows ever are in Sydney, Australia – they’re amazing. So a lot of trans-identified women who were assigned male at birth did drag, that’s how you made your living. And so they were transsexuals, transvestites, drag queens, and they were all doing drag to make money. They all bickered amongst each other who is better than who, “Well the drag queens are better,” “No, the transsexuals are better.” “You are all freaks, we’re better.” And on and on and on. But they worked together and they were family together, so they came up with a word that would say family and that was tranny. In Australia they do the diminutive, that’s how they come up with words. So tranny. I learned the word in the mid-1980s, late 1980s from my drag mom in San Francisco, Doris Fish, who was the city’s preeminent drag queen and she’d come from Sydney. And she schooled me in this word tranny, she said, “This way it means we’re family, darling.” “Thank you mama.” [...] So we used it and we were trannies together. And F to M was just beginning to start, the trans men were just beginning to become visible, Lou Sullivan was a neighbor of mine around the corner, and he was the first big out trans man, wrote his book. So trans men and cross dressers . . . cross dressers were also family. Transsexuals, we were all trannies and that felt good. That got into the sex industry and became a genre – there was tranny porn, there were tranny sex workers – chicks with dicks, she-males. [...] And, my only guess is that people who . . . because the only way they would have found out about the word is if they were watching tranny porn or having been with a tranny sex worker and then hated themselves so much that they turned it into a curse word. So it’s not really technically correct to say we’re reclaiming a word – it was always ours. So, many people mistake the word for the hatred behind the word and, in my generation, and I’m sure in future generations of trans people, tranny is going to be a radicalized, sexualized identity of trans in the same way that faggot is a prideful identity in the gay male community – not all gay men are faggots, but those who are are proudly fags and those who are dykes are proudly dykes within the lesbian community, trannies are proudly tranny within the transgender community. Does that mean we can’t call ourselves that because some trans woman does not want to be called a tranny? No. I’m going to keep calling myself a tranny. To the trans woman who gets called tranny, I’m sorry – as soon as . . . you’ve got to look at why you’re getting called tranny and if you don’t pass, you’re going to be read as a transgender person and then you fall back on the cultural view of trans folk which is freak, disgusting, not worth living, we can hurt you. It has nothing to do with the word, it has everything to do with the cultural attitude. So the word has stirred up a shit storm, but it’s not the word.

^ From this interview

Four weeks ago, Bear posted a call for submissions on his blog. In the interests of keeping the call as open as possible, we agreed to include as many trans-identities as we knew, so we used the word "tranny." And that's where the activist shit hit the postmodern fan base. People have been pissed. Here's their argument: FTMs are co-opting a word that belongs to MTFs. The word "tranny" belongs to MTFs, reason those who were hurt by our use of the word, because it was a denigrating term reclaimed by MTFs—ergo, only MTFs could be known as trannies. I spoke with Bear, and we agree that’s wrong on several counts:

Tranny began as a uniting term amongst ourselves. Of course it’s going to be picked up and used as a denigrating term by mean people in the world. But even if we manage to get them to stop saying tranny like a thrown rock, mean people will come up with another word to wound us with. So, let’s get back to using tranny as a uniting term amongst ourselves. That would make Doris Fish very happy.

It's our first own language word for ourselves that has no medical-legacy. 

Even if (like gay) hate-filled people try to make tranny into a bad word, our most positive response is to own the word (a word invented by the queerest of the queer of their day). We have the opportunity to re-create tranny as a positive in the world.

Saying that FTMs can’t call themselves trannies eerily echoes the 1980s lesbians who said I couldn’t use the word woman to identify myself, and the 1990s lesbians who said I couldn’t use the word dyke. 

At one phase in the evolution of transpeople-as-tribe, it was the male-to-females who were visible and representative of trans to the rest of the world. They were the trannies. Today? Ironically true to the binary we’re in the process of shattering, the pendulum has swung so that it's now female-to-males who are the archetypal trannies of the day. The generation coming up beyond the next generation, i.e. my tribal grandchildren are the young boys who transition to young girls at the age of five or six. They’re the next trannies. None of us can own the word. We can only be grateful that our tribe is so much larger than we had thought it would be. How to come together—now that’s the job of the next generation of gender outlaws.

^ From Who You Calling A Tranny?

We've been having this debate forever and its been stupid forever.

And its an increasingly outdated debate. More people know about trans men&mascs than ever and there are plenty of TM&Ms who have been called tranny by transphobes who don't give a shit about this distinction. And not just people who have been mistaken for transfems, either, but men like Andrew Jonathan Blake-Newton and Saye Skye who were attacked by people who knew them. Do they have more or less of a right to say tranny than a trans girl whose never been called it by a transphobe? (Neither. Because no one owns this word.)

[hikarry]

For the longest time, I thought I was cis. Not necessarily because I felt it deep down, but because I was forced to present as feminine as possible. My father, trying to counterbalance the whole "being gay" thing, made sure of it. I was supposed to look a certain way to fit into the "norm" he wanted to project.

Fast forward to 2020, when the world stood still, and so did my sense of self. Like many, I had a sexual crisis during lockdown, and a gender crisis hit right after. I went hyper-feminine, leaning into the only identity I knew. But suddenly, it became unbearable. I felt itchy, uncomfortable in my own skin. I found myself stealing my brother's clothes, hiding my long hair under a beanie. Some days, I loved being feminine. Other days, I relished the comfort of masculinity. And sometimes, I just didn’t care.

I didn't have a name for what I was feeling. I knew about being cis—it was the default, the norm. I had trans friends, and I knew about being non-binary from TikTok. But none of these labels seemed to fit me. I wasn't just one thing. I was everything. Then, a TikTok video introduced me to the term "genderfluid." It resonated. I liked the idea, but something still felt off. The only people I saw using this label were behind screens, with a seemingly magical ability to transform their appearance effortlessly. They could switch genders with such fluidity and grace—powers I didn't possess. I felt like I was on the outside, looking in.

Then, in 2021, everything changed when I watched Good Omens for the first time. And that’s when I met Crowley.

At first, I didn’t quite grasp his whole gender vibe. But on a rewatch, it hit me like a brick. Crowley was like me. His fluidity, his complete disregard for sticking to one gender—it was exactly what I had been searching for. He didn’t fit into a box. He just existed, gloriously and unapologetically, as whoever he wanted to be in any given moment. And that was me.

Crowley was the first genderfluid "person" I met, even if he was just a character. Seeing him on screen was incredibly validating. Up until then, I felt like a freak, confused and lost. But Crowley showed me I wasn’t alone or abnormal. He made me feel seen, understood, and normal. It was a revelation.

Crowley helped me embrace my identity without overthinking it. Just, you know, fuck it. Female, male—who cares? It was liberating. I owe that sense of freedom to him.

To anyone struggling with their gender identity, feeling like they don’t fit into a neat category, I hope you find your Crowley. That moment of realization where you see yourself reflected somewhere and know you��re not alone. Because you’re not. We’re out here, existing and thriving, just like Crowley.

[chthonic-sorcery]

🚩🚩"Witch/Pagan" community PSA 🚩🚩

Goêteia is not evil, you dipshits.

I'm so sick of these neo-pagans getting all their information from Tumblr, Pinterest and TikTok.

Goêteia is literally just the Greek term for magic, for sorcery, which were one and the same.

Ancient Greece didn't have the word "witchcraft" it had Goêteia, and then later mageia, where we get our modern term magic from, although mageia was a misappropriated term from Zoroastrian priests or Magi.

It's so funny seeing baby witches claim Goêteia to be evil on one hand, then on the other worshipping Hekate, literally the goddess of Goêteia. The goddess of sorcerers and necromancy.

It screams puritanical morality policing. It's such a christian-centered way of looking at ancient religion.

Y'all need to open a damn book.

Goêteia was described as a "lesser" form of magic (mainly in the later Medieval period, roughly starting around the 8th century,) not meaning any less powerful, just simply the easiest or "closest" thus "lower" magic to achieve. This ability to more easily achieve success in magic was later taken and used by christian theologians to paint goêteia and Goêtes as "lesser practitioners."

There does seem to be little difference between Theurgy and goêteia as well,

Surprise!

Both Goêteia and Theurgy sharing the same goddamn workings through evocations of gods, the animation of statues, mediumship or what could be considered "divine possession" having a god or spirit speak through you, the use of iynx wheels / iynges, and mystery rites.

The only 'real' difference Theurgists claim, is that they "don't practice secularly/for selfish reasons" but supposedly rather to become closer to the divine. It's a nice sentiment, but total bullshit, because even in the Theurgic doctrine the Chaldean Oracles they bind the goddess Hekate to do their will.

Additionally, Theurgists had a more Neoplatonic belief, they essentially viewed a singular Oneness as supreme, the emanation from which all things return, a concept which was picked up by early christian theologians and is likely why while Goêtes were demonized in the later centuries mainly by early christians and christian philosophers, Theurgists on the other hand were seen as "pure" and "holier" despite Theurgical and Goêteic practices being pretty much exactly the same down to the tools and incantations.

(Agustine of Hippo for an example of these theologians, who wrote in "De civitate Dei contra Paganos", or "On the City of God Against the Pagans" how all "pagan" (non christian) gods and beliefs were secretly agents of Satan and evil, here to trick humanity into sin and that paganism, essentially any non christian faith, must be stopped–

He also wrote about how sorcerers/magicians (Goêtes) were charlatans, tricksters, that magic and sorcery were merely tricks of an invisible opposition to the divine and how only god could hold such supreme power. These ideas still seem to be deeply embedded into christian faith, particularly Orthodox and Evangelical, today.)

Practitioners of goêteia, the Goēs, was also understood to have the ability to initiate souls into mystery religions, or, in other words, to ensure through his superior knowledge of the Underworld and its workings that the souls under his care would receive preferential treatment after death, an easier way to paradise, such as the Orphic Hymns.

This likely also helped "other" the Goēs, as most practitioners of magic, of goêteia, of these mystery cults were made up of societies "unwanted" or marginalized people, such as women, foreigners, immigrants, the poor, the disabled, and the elderly. Early goêtes were described as being Thessalian (primarily women, particularly described as "old or decrepid") or. ethnically, not considered "fully Greek" to many of the era. Many critiques and fears of goêteia come from this "otherness," the fear the ruling classes of Greece had of groups they continued to harm, they feared the power they held within these mystery rites and practices.

With reliable accuracy from these critics, goêtes were (perceived to be) moral transgressors, who operated from the fringe of society in a private mago-mystical setting, offering their service for coin.

Or, in simpler terms, the Greeks were just really fucking racist

which is nothing new.

In fact, because goêteia itself is a synchronization of mainly Egyptian and Jewish magic, the Greeks and later christians went extra-hard into villifying it because they saw these people as lesser, as barbaric.

We have to understand where the fears and judgements of these critics were coming from, and continue to remain impartial. The ruling elite feared these practices because they feared losing their power, especially rich Greek men, and those early christian philosophers who saw everything outside their own faith as lies, manipulations, or tricks from "the Opposition" as well as the extremely racist and ethnocentric beliefs they held.

[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.

[vinylmango]

On our own terms

Nicholas Alexander Chavez x famous!black!reader

Description: (y/n) is booked and busy, meanwhile fans and gossip pages alike are desperate for any information…or a continuation of part one.

Warnings: none

Part one TWO three four five

masterlist

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nicholasalexanderchavez posted on their story!

(Y/n) posted on their story!

nicholasalexanderchavez

Liked by no1nacsupporter, (y/n), and 1,134,543 others

nicholasalexanderchavez hello New York 😮🤯🤩

user1 so deserved

user2 it’s such a flex that I can say I’ve been a fan since he was first on GH and none of you other fans can say that

> user3 i can say that

> user4 same…you aren’t that special

> user2 why can’t you just let me have this 😭

celebwatch that’s definitely (y/n)

> user5 she’s not even in that part of New York today. Her show is uptown.

nicholasgalitzine it’s the size of his ego 🥺

> nicholasalexanderchavez aww you’ve got jokes 🥺

> (y/n) i literally saw you on one that was bigger than that

> mrsgalitzine lol not (y/n) swooping in and eating you up

(y/n)andnicholas I’m keeping my page whether the rumors are true or not. Maybe I can manifest this relationship

> user6 where’s the relationship probability girl from tiktok when you need her

user7 where’s that delulu account lexiloo6? Kinda miss them lowkey

> lexiloo6 don’t worry I’m here and I’m just getting started😃 you thought there’d be a post he made without me commenting on it?

> user2 I respect your dedication

user8 every day I thank my grandmother for telling me to shut up and watch GH with her 🙂‍↕️

View more comments…

(y/n) post on their story!

celebritiesexposed

Tagged: nicholasalexanderchavez & (y/n)

Liked by nicchavezismine, user2, and 10,235 others

celebritiesexposed Actress/model (y/n) and her new mystery man were seen outside of an NYC restaurant last night. (Y/n) will be walking in multiple shows this NYFW. This comes just a couple of weeks after she revealed via her Instagram that she is in a relationship. Fans have begun speculating as to who could be with her. The running theory is actor Nicholas Chavez as both were recently in Italy at the same time. However, Nicholas Chavez has also revealed that he is in a relationship. Special thanks to our eagle-eyes fans! Keep sending in more spottings and pics. Leave your guess in the comments below of who you think the beautiful model is dating!

ilovenickchavez ooo they are not beating the allegations

celebriteagossip interesting…👀

user1 🍝🦞

> user2 LMAOOO

user2 good for her. they’d be really cute together

nicchavezismine it’s so obviously not (y/n). You guys are seriously grasping at straws. There’s no way he’d lower his standards that much

> (y/n)ismother I’m sure you would know about lowering standards since that’s the only way someone would ever take you out

> user3 🤭🤭💀

> user4 silent or silenced 💀

goddess(y/n) I hope this is real. He’s so much better than the other people (y/n) has dated in the past.

View more comments…

(Y/n)fashion

Liked by (y/n), (y/n)loml, (y/n)ismother, and 12,000 others

(Y/n)fashion New pics of (y/n) from her first two shows at this year’s NYFW. She’s absolutely killing it 😍

user1 OMG SHE LIKED

user2 the things I would do if I looked like that

(Y/n) Thank you 😊🫶 I had so much fun

> (y/n)fashion OMG HIIII

(Y/n)loml literally almost forgot how to breathe

> liked by (y/n)

(Y/n)loml someone call an ambulance and it’s for me

(y/n)loml what’s it like to wake up and just be perfect?

user3 she’s booked and busy fr as she should be 💁‍♀️✨

user4 the fact that this is both the year of (y/n) and the year of Nicholas Chavez cannot be a coincidence. Thank you universe 🧎‍♀️‍➡️

View more comments…

anon_gossip

Tagged: (y/n) and nicholasalexanderchavez

Liked by deuxmoi, dailyceleb, and 36,422 others

anon_gossip After walking in two shows today, (y/n) was seen out and about in New York tonight with her mystery man. Both pics were snapped in different locations by two separate fans. Keep looking out guys! Can’t wait to see what else you’ll submit 🤭

user1 that definitely has to be Nicholas Chavez because who else could it be??

user2 where’s the body analysis guy from tiktok when you need him. Is the guy in the pics the same height?

user3 Nicholas is way broader than that guy in the pics. No way it’s him.

user4 idk maybe he didn’t get a pump in today?

> user5 I think it looks like him. The guy in the pics is muscular too

user6 (y/n) pleaseeeee can’t you speak on this yet?

> itswes lol

> user6 omg not (y/n)’s brother in the comments

View more comments…

———

Taglist: [Dm me or comment if you want to be added!]

@hockeyboysarehot

[animentality]

Dude I'm so confused

Why are the redditors refugees here-

Whats up with the tag 196

AND WHY IS EVERYONE BEING SO NICE WITH THE TWITTER REFUGEES CAME WE GAVE THEM HELL (almost)

The Reddit refugees are here because several subreddits have gone private in protest of reddit's new policy of charging third party developers for access to its API.

Hence the term reddit blackout.

196 specifically was a very queer friendly subreddit that had one rule: that you post before you leave. 196 is trending because those Redditors have come here and they're basically sharing their memery here instead as they protest reddit's greed.

As for why we're welcoming them when Twitter refugees were seen with a little more irritation, well.

Think of the culture similarities.

Tumblr and reddit have far more in common than Tumblr and Twitter.

Twitter is about clout and manipulating algorithms and discourse in 280 characters or less. It's about bad takes that reach the right people and it forces you to see things you don't want to see and it's crawling with the worst people imaginable and you're forced to see them, all the time. They also brought bad tagging and 2016 Tumblr discourse with them, because Twitter culture really involves starting fights for clout and braindead opinions that no one really wants to come back to Tumblr culture.

There was a time when Tumblr did the same thing, but worse, with more words...but nowadays, it's really calmed down.

The worst people...went to Twitter after the porn ban. Ironically, it made the site less toxic and hostile.

But then they came back.

And it was like...hm. no thanks. Stay back where you came from.

But Tumblr and Reddit have much more in common.

Both have a more streamlined way of customizing your online feed. You can choose what subreddits you see on your home screen, just like Tumblr only shows you the content of your followers, on your dashboard, and in chronological order rather than what's trending. You can join a very specific weird niche group of freaks with a shared obsession, and not care about the rest of the site at all. You also don't have a character limit on either site, which lets you ramble more and share weird detailed stories.

Reddit might have karma, but like Tumblr, the majority of people are lurkers and not posters. It also allows you to downvote bad opinions, and moderators who have to adhere to certain guidelines of behavior, which means a lot of banning disruptive people.

Granted, sometimes their mods are power hungry, but. You know.

It does more to control its users than Tumblr do, and that's a good thing in terms of keeping toxicity and illegal shit off its subs.

Reddit also has a way more leftwing attitude than you would think.

It has a reputation for being full of incels but I honestly think that's outdated.

It's cleaned up its act quite a bit since the old days.

I see way more vile shit from Twitter and TikTok. Like seriously.

Twitter is crawling with conservative bots and propaganda machines and just outright inflammatory lies. TikTok literally has the worst comment sections I've ever seen, like edgy teenagers cracking racist and misogynistic humor and acting like it makes them different and special. Its algorithm also spoon feeds you garbage and is designed to be as addicting as possible.

At least reddit's culture, while chauvinistic and regressive in certain subcultures, is mostly on the tech positive, atheist libertarian side.

It can be a little pretentious and caustic about certain subjects, and a little full of itself. Some reddits are also very male leaning and disregard female concerns in favor of moaning about how men have it worse than anyone else on earth.

But for the most part?

...well.

I welcome them here, because if they left reddit in protest, then we always support protests. But 196 specifically is also a queer subreddit, and we support that even more.

Plus they're funny as fuck.

What's not to like, really?

You should welcome them with open arms too.

[secretmellowblog]

Les Mis Hidden Name Meanings: “Fantine” (posting here because it got popular on TikTok)

Every character in Les Mis has a name with a deeper symbolic meaning— here’s a video I made for the official @barricadescon TikTok about the meaning behind “Fantine!”

Transcript and Digressions I left out of the video, under the cut:

Every charcater’s name in Les Mis is either a pun, a reference to a historical/mythological figure, or had some deep symbolic meaning — and sometimes it’s all of them at on.

The name “Fantine” comes from the french word “enfantine” or “childike, infant-like.” Her name basically means “Baby.” And obviously this speaks to her innocence and niavetee. But also “baby” is kind of,.,, well it sounds more like an informal term of endearment than an actual legal name?

And that’s because– Plot twist– Fantine isn’t her legal name! What is her legal name? She doesn’t have one.

And the reason she doesn’t have one is directly tied to political turmoil of the era she was born into.

Fantine grew up an orphan living on the streets, without a family without parents. Hugo tells us the origin of her name:

“she bore on her brow the sign of the anonymous and the unknown. (...)She was called Fantine. Why Fantine? She had never borne any other name. At the epoch of her birth the Directory still existed. She had no family name; she had no family; no baptismal name; the Church no longer existed. She bore the name which pleased the first random passer-by, who had encountered her, when a very small child, running bare-legged in the street. She received the name as she received the water from the clouds upon her brow when it rained.”

This moment is adapted beautifully in the Manga adaptation by Takahiro Arai, which I recommend to anyone who loves Les mis, manga, or any combination of those things.

But now let’s talk about the Directory.

To wildly oversimplifly a lot of complex history: Before the French Revolution, the Catholic Church’s records of baptismal ceremonies were often used as a registry of people’s legal names. During the French Revolution, the Revolutionary government– including the Directory– put in place a series of policies we now call “dechristianization,” where they attempted to dismantle the power of Catholic church.

Fantine was born during the age of these dechristianization policies. So she was never baptised, her baptismal name was never recorded, so she has no recorded legal or family name. She’s slipped through the cracks of the legal system, and ended up completely anonymous.

It sets Fantine up as this anonymous child of the Revolution– a stand in for everyone who was left behind when the Revolution was left behind, and kings were restored to the throne.

Fantine’s namelessness is meant to show atomized . How she has NO support system. She has nothing to connect her to other people, nothing to connect her to a support system.

Finally, the way Fantine tends to “slip through the cracks” is something that follows her throughout her life. When she’s fired from her job at a factory, Maroy Madeleine never learns of it– Fantine has this tendency to overlooked and forgotten. She is born anonymous and she dies anonymous. At the end of the story, she is buried in an unmarked grave, with not even the name “Fantine” on her headstone.

It ties into novel’s questions about which people we consider worth remembering, whose lives are worth being records.

And obviously Fantine is not the only character in Les Mis whose name has a deeper symbolic meaning. If you have any other Les Mis character names you’d like to explain, leave their name in the comments below.

Thank you for watching!

From the description of the original tiktok, here are some things that were left out of the video for time:

How this all relates to Cosette’s name(s)

Fantine’s nickname “The Blonde,” and how this relates to the way she’s dehumanized by Tholomyes

How the 2018 Bbc series fundamentally misunderstands Fantine’s character, and how one sign of this is that they give her a full legal first and last name

How Fantine’s name shows up/is revealed is significant parts of the story (like when Valjean reveals her signature on a letter to Thenardier, allowing him to take Cosette away)

How Fantine’s inability to write ties into the way it’s difficult for her to record her own story

How some of Valjean’s last words are revealing Fantine’s name to Cosette

Thanks again for reading!

[morganbritton132]

I absolutely love every time other people find something out about Steve and are just like ???

I wonder if any of his student’s parents are fans of Eddie’s but have no idea their kid’s teacher is married to him (perhaps finding out at career day 👀)

I love the thought of some rock n roll dad (aka: the guy in the minivan blaring Rage Against the Machine during morning drop off (aka: aka: my dad)) meeting his kid’s teacher during open house and seeing a picture on his desk of him and guitar legend, Eddie Munson.

Steve’s in the middle of explaining the curriculum for the year when Rock N Roll Dad points to a picture of him and Eddie backstage at the Rock N Roll Hall of Fame last year when Eddie presented like, “You like that guy?”

Steve looks from Rock N Roll Dad to the picture and then back, “Yeah, you could say that.”

Then he goes back to talking about what they should expect in terms of homework and that was that until parent/teacher conferences.

The first thing Rock N Roll Dad clocks in the new picture on Steve’s desk. It replaced the Eddie Munson one with a new one of the two of them in the parking lot after a local show. Steve’s got his arm thrown around Eddie’s neck, both of them smiling wide, and Gareth is in the background giving them bunny ears.

Rock N Roll Dad points to the framed picture like, “Pretty cool to have met ‘em.”  

“Yeah,” Steve nods. “It’s one of the best things that’s ever happened to me.”

Rock N Roll Dad is not gay himself but he is not one of those ultra straight Corroded Coffin fans that liked to pretend that half the band isn’t queer. He was actually watching the MTV Music Awards show that Eddie publicly came out at by declaring his love for some guy named Steve, and actually.

Rock N Roll Dad thought it made a lot of sense that Eddie Munson was gay because well. A lot of his songs were… phallic.

So, he knows.

He knows that Eddie Munson is gay and that he’s married to some guy whose name isn’t even listed on his Wikipedia page, and he knows that he lives in Chicago, but what he doesn’t know is why he never put two and two together and got Steve Harrington.

There’s a different picture of Eddie Munson on Mr. Harrington’s desk when Rock N Roll Dad goes to talk to him after his kid gets detention for being a little shithead. There is framed original concept art for CC’s first album on the wall behind Steve when Rock N Roll Dad checks in on his kid during a zoom study session.

Hell, Rock N Roll Dad follows Eddie on Tiktok.

He has seen the ass shots that Eddie has posted of his husband in his running shorts, and he did think, yeah, that’s a great ass. He didn’t know he was thinking that about his kid’s math teacher!!

It’s not even Career Day when he discovers it. It’s the day before when they can set up their booths in the gym because Rock N Roll Dad may be a heavy metal fan always, but he’s also an accountant from 8:30 to 4:30 Monday thru Friday.

 He’s struggling to keep his poster board up when in walks guitar legend, Eddie Munson. He’s carrying a box, following behind a guy carrying an iguana.

Rock N Roll Dad abandons everything and walks over to the booth across the way. He can hear the two bickering with each other but before he can say anything, Steve Harrington is there and he is distressed, “Why do you have that?!”

“Her name is Leia, Steve,” Dustin says, “and she has separation anxiety.”

Steve opens his mouth like he wants to complain but doesn’t even know where to begin so he just accepts it, “Is she going to eat somebody?”

“That happened one time!”

Eddie Munson, infamous guitarist that lived on Rock N Roll Dad’s walls as a teenager, uses the opportunity to slide up next to Mr. Harrington and wrap an arm around him. He kisses his cheek, “Baby, we’re here to help.”

“You’re here to guilt me into letting you be a part of Career Day.”

“I can multitask, babe,” Eddie grinned, still so close to Steve that his smile touches his cheek. Steve just sags against him and Rock N Roll Dad thinks, oh. He thinks, oh, shit.

“You have a fan,” Steve mumbles, pulling away a little. It takes Rock N Roll Dad a second to realize that they’re talking about him and then he thinks, fuck.

“Hey – Hi. Uh.” He stops, thinks about lying and saying he needs tape or something, but settles on, “I didn’t know my kid’s teacher married you.”

“Technically, I married him.”

“Technically, I married both of you,” Dustin pointed out. “I officiated the wedding.”

“Ah,” Rock N Roll Dad says because what else is there to say. “Big fan.”

“Yeah, I can tell.”

[82mitsu]

Previously translated pair names that had been posted to Twitter. However corrections had to be made (misinterpretations & an instance of mistranslation), so this is version 2.

Note: This is the only translated thing I will be posting, I am not off hiatus. I had been meaning to archive this before my hiatus, but I also had to fix some things, which is why there was a delay.

Please consult to this post only regarding pair name translations done by me (82mitsu), any other posts or reposts you might see of this chart is the older version. (Previous version has been deleted, but I'm unaware how far the information had spread.)

If any other corrections need to be made, feel free to contact me and I'll make them as soon as possible.

Below follows an extreme lengthy TL note breaking down some pair names, it's a lot of text, so be warned once you unfold the read more.

A lot of research went into these due to 18TRIPs tendency to mix up words, use Gen-Z slang that hasn’t been picked up by everyone yet (or limited to TikTok) and make up their own words (“Omotenashisto” -> “Hospitalister”). I used dictionaries, searched forum results, looked up how people use these words on social media, went TikTok digging, etc.

I tried my best to localize in a way that should make sense even without added context. I only explained the ones that I thought might needed some more back-up in a cultural sense or because it was a specific JPN thing. Thus, not everything has been explained. However, I hope things are clearer compared to the first version that was posted. For Renga & Yukikaze: For ぽゆぽゆ (poyupoyu) there is no definition or anything for this word, but from context clues and digging through how people used it, I deduced that it means something soft and squishy like a plushie or cheeks, so to say. For Renga & Liguang: かりそめの宿縁 (karisome no shukuen) is a Japanese saying about a fated connection of bond that only lasts for a brief moment, but leaves a deep impact on your life. For Renga & Raito: Party is mispelled in the katakana as “paachii” and not the usual “paatii”. Renga has a tendecy to say English words wrong. While “friends” is spelled the correct way, both words have been “mispelled” to drive the point home. For Renga & Kinari: なぁぜなぁぜ (naaze, naaze) is JPN Gen-Z slang from Tiktok. It’s a statement made as an act for complaining, with a bit of sarcasm and irony thrown in at times. Like, “I said I wanna diet but I ate a big meal anyway! なぁぜなぁぜ” or “I’m an idol but I get more anxious doing improv than performances! なぁぜなぁぜ”. Best way I can describe the usage in this context is Renga is throwing a bit of a self-aware tantrum as to why Kinari would correct him. (As mentioned earlier, he isn’t good at English). I guessed a close equivalent would be “nuh-uh”, since that is a dismissal of someone else’s opinion without actual good reason, even if the other person has a point. For Renga & Netaro: まんまん (manman) means “a lot” but I also believe it’s a reference to meatbuns (nikuman). For Kafka & Yodaka: Hanbei is Takenaka Shigeharu, a Japanese samurai from the Sengoku era. He was known for being Toyotomi Hideyoshi’s strategist. For Liguang & Yodaka: 闘牌伝 (touhaiden) is related to Mahjong stuff. 闘牌伝 seems to be an old timey Mahjong video game with RPG elements. Rekka is a fighting game term, and I will quote the website The Fighting Game Glossary by Infil on this: “A type of special move that has multiple stages, as long as you input more commands to continue the sequence. Not all multi-part specials can be called rekkas though; a rekka tends to have exactly three distinct parts and will move your character forward along the ground with each new input.”  For Akuta & Nanaki: They went to the same kindergarten and were grouped together in the “Oden Class”. Japanese kindergartens, from my understanding from researching, tend to have a name for their class, rather than a number. To give an idea what such names could be, in 2019 the website hyenasclubs hosted a poll of most commonly used names for classes, and the top 3 were “baby chick” (hiyoko), “peach” (momo) and “dandelion” (tanpopo). For Akuta & Muneuji: My take on はっけよい輝矢部屋 (hakkeyoi kaguya heya) is a bit of an elaborate bit joking with Princess Kaguya of the Moon (from Tale of the Bamboo Cutter) because I was wondering why they suddenly opted for Muneuji’s last name instead of first. (I might’ve also just overestimated Kaguya Heya being some joke on Kaguya Hime). Hakkeyoi is what a referee shouts at the start of a sumo wrestling match. For Akuta & Ushio: I think ポジティブに腕押し (positive ni ude oshi) is a take on 暖簾に腕押し (noren ni ude oshi) that means something has no effect or is pointless. Lit. it means “pushing a curtain with one's arm”.    For Akuta & Tao: Akuta Nine is a joke on the baseball movie Gyakkyo Nine which is an adaptation of the manga of the same series, I believe. The movie is referred to as GK9, hence I made it AKT9.  For Akuta & Ryui: The original is OYAxKOBU which comes from 親分子分 (oyabunkobun) meaning “boss and his underlings”. Akuta also calls Ryui by “Oyabun”.

For Kiroku & Nanaki: Weebs who watch highschool anime should be familiar with this, but emergency staircase refers to the hallway stairs in a JPN highschool that are sometimes used as chilling out spots by students. For Kiroku & Chihiro: TuRyStA is the clothing brand they wear. 18TRIP has a various selection of clothing brands, which each character having a preference for one or another. For Kiroku & Yodaka: Zhao Yun, as quoted by Wikipedia, “was a military general who lived during the late Eastern Han dynasty and early Three Kingdoms period of China.” For Ushio & Raito: Some heavy freedom was taken with バスボムしゅわリスト (basubamu shuwaristo). After considering how to approach it in the most sensical way, I decided to translate it as “bubblist” due the other options being “hand sign list” or “bubble list”. I thought リスト might function as in -ist, like dentist, artist, guitarist. しゅわ comes from しゅわしゅわ which means bubbly. Although bubblist isn’t not that common, it is sometimes referred to entertainers that do bubble performances (in English). And I think it made more sense than “hand sign list” or “bubble list” to say the least. This was also taking in consideration how 18TRIP, as explained in the intro, gets very creative with its language usage. For Raito & Nagi: Mandarin ducks symbolize “soulmates” of some kind in China. In other words, Mandarin Duck Touring is more along the lines of “Motorcycle touring soulmates”. However, I find the mandarin duck reference and interesting pull compared to just “soulmates”, so it was kept as is. For Kinari & Ryui: “Super Darling Gap Inspection” is more along the original lines. “Gap” in Japanese is usually used in the context of when someone acts one way, but unexpectedly, can act a different way. Ex. A very shy person shows they can be super vulgar, that can be considered a “gap” of some kind. In English, people are more familiar with “gap moe”, thus gap moe was used. For Tao & Nagi: Might be a reference to Yokohama’s Zo-no-hana (Elephant Nose) Park. For Toi & Yodaka: The original is more along the lines of, in the most literal sense, “going around raisins circle (of friends).” Toi likes raisins, but Yodaka doesn’t, so Yodaka passes them onto Toi. I’ve turned into on a play on “sharing is caring” since that’s a common concept in English.