@demonzriti commissioned me to write this little silly fic for @sametrapeni the other day. it’s really just 1,065 words of crack mpreg!sam/paulie.
i’ve never written anything like it, but with the week i’ve been having, it was so refreshing & fun to write! i hope i did the idea justice for you & i hope it can bring a smile to @sametrapeni’s face! they’re lucky for a partner like you!! <33
read & enjoy if that’s your thing! and if it’s not but you have a self-indulgent thing (no matter how silly you think it is!) you’d like for me to write for you, check out my kofi! & my ao3 for writing refs & commission rules! but know there’s really very little i wouldn’t write & can/will do other fandoms!
Paulie walks his fingers over Sam’s tummy, and Sam won’t ever admit it, but it’s the number one thing he’ll miss the most about the pregnancy.
Though lucky for Sam, he doesn’t have to, because Paulie does it for him. “I’ll miss this.” Paulie mutters, flattening his hand to rub over the hard lump where the baby’s resting. “Feelin’ ‘em in here like this. Knownin’ you’re really carryin’ ‘em. Our baby.”
Sam rolls his eyes, fighting the smile tugging at his lips. “I won’t. This shit is for th’ birds.”
Paulie laughs, loud and full, and at this Sam does smile. It’s impossible not to.
“Sam, I—“
Sam cuts Paulie’s words off with a groan, loud and long. He tilts his head back against the headboard and cradles his stomach. He sighs through his teeth, he can almost feel his eye twitching as the pain radiates through his lower back.
“Sam? Sammy? Hey, what’s wr—“
“Shut up, Paulie.” Sam grits out, like every word takes incredible effort.
Paulie’s alarm only grows as he sits up. He looks down at Sam and Sam contemplates punching Paulie right upside the head. Sam has begun to sweat just a little, his thick eyebrows furrowed in concentration. His breathing is labored and concentrated.
“It’s. I think.” Sam takes a deep breath, groaning through the pain again, “Christ. Christ, Paulie. I think it’s time.”
“Time? For what? Sammy, time for what?” Paulie asks, his voice raising in alarm with each question.
Sam looks at him with a flat affect. And again, he considers hitting Paulie.
“Oh, I don’t know, Paulie. Time for some fuckin’ tea and cakes, maybe? Maybe time to go for a light stroll? Maybe time for a shower? Jesus Christ. I think the baby’s coming you fuckin’ dunce!” Sam yells, his eyes slipping back closed, his breathing laboring even more with every breath.
The panic shows on Paulie’s face as he throws the blanket off of them. “What?”
“Paulie. Don’t piss me off.” Sam answers, his voice still on edge.
Another contraction hits Sam and this time he groans loudly, bringing his knees up. He nearly screams, his hand slipping under his shirt to rub at the skin of his taunt stomach. The baby is much lower than it had been previously. And Sam doesn’t know anything about birth or babies and really isn’t sure how they ended up in this predicament in the first place but Jesus Christ this hurts. How did Tommy ever convince Sarah to do this twice?
“Sam. Sammy. You have to breathe. What did Sarah say? Like HEE-HAHH-HEEE-HOO—“
“Paulie. I’m going to fuckin’ shoot you. I swear to God, I will. I swear to fuckin’ God.”
“Sam. That’s not breathin’. Maybe you need to stand? Walk around, right?” Paulie jumps out of bed and puts his hands on his lower back, and starts pacing around, “Like this, right? Sarah did a lot of walkin’ when she had her baby girl. Oh Christ, should we call Sarah? I’m gonna call Sarah.”
“Paulie.” Sam grits again, then groans, another near scream. “Sam!” Paulie rushes to Sam’s side, places his hand on Sam’s shoulder. “Baby? What is it?”
“Sit.” Sam takes another deep breath, “Down.”
Paulie nods, and sits on the edge of the bed, snaking his arm around Sam’s shoulders. He stays still for about another minute, before Sam feels another wave of pain, similar to the first, hit him like a ton of bricks.
He tries not to let on how badly it hurts, but honestly? Getting shot hurt less.
Paulie notices Sam tense and he jumps out of bed again, “I’m callin’ Sarah.” he mutters, mostly to himself, as he nearly sprints out of the room.
Sam had known, realistically, that Sarah would be his midwife. There’s no one he’d trust more. Sarah had two children, and had had them at home, more or less by herself. But the idea of Sarah seeing him like this, in pain, writhing, the idea is mortifying.
However, he doesn’t have time to deal with that, as the pain takes over again.
“Paulie!” Sam shouts, followed by another groan, “Get. In. Here. With. Me.” He forces every word out and in the silence in between words, he can hear Paulie talking, muttering, the scratch of a pen, like he’s taking notes.
“Just a minute, baby. Hold on!” Paulie calls back, then Sam can hear him mutter, “And what else, Sarah? Hurry. What else? Are you sure you can’t be here no sooner?”
Sam is feeling homicidal actually. He thinks it’s time to give into it. He might just kill Paulie before he ever gets to see his big-headed baby.
Sam has just about settled on the fact he’ll be a single father when Paulie comes back with a cup of ice and a small hand towel from the kitchen.
“I’m here, Sammy. I’m here.” he mutters, rushing to the bed.
“Sarah said this will help. Here.” Paulie leans over and puts a damp towel on Sam’s head. It’s ice cold and oddly, supplies immediate relief. Sam hadn’t realized he was so hot.
“She said you can chew on this ice. Don’t know what it’s supposed to do but she swears by it.” Paulie pushes the cup into his hands. “And to take your pants off. Which you know I have no problem with. Heh.” Paulie chuckles and reaches for Sam’s pants.
And the homicidal urge fills Sam again. He grabs Paulie’s wrist, almost spilling his cup of ice, “Don’t. Fuckin’. Touch. Me.” Sam grits, through crunches of the ice.
Paulie laughs, has the audacity to laugh. This causes Sam’s eye to actually twitch.
“Well, had you been sayin’ that 9 months ago, maybe we wouldn’t be in this, huh?”
Sam stares at him. He feels the rage fill in every pore of his body, and he realizes he has to speak, because if left alone with his thoughts for a moment longer, he’d kill Paulie. Truly and honestly.
“Paulie. Get. The. Fuck. Out. Get out!”
“Now c’mon Sammy—“
“OUT!”
“Okay, okay!” Paulie laughs, and that beautiful crooked smile doesn’t leave his lips, and Sam is in limbo between wanting to shoot Paulie and to kiss him until they’re both breathless. Which of course makes Sam more upset.
Sam waits for Paulie to be turned around before he starts to strip out of his pants. He loves Paulie. More than life itself, and God, anyone knows that. But Christ.. he hopes their baby doesn’t get his sense of humor.
20 notes
·
View notes
Care
CW: Almost-Character Death | Violence | Refrenced Astarion Trauma
Featuring: Soren (OC) & Astarion & Gale
Relationship: Implied Tav/Asatrion/Gale (and vice versa)
Word Count: 2,940
Other Tags: Physcial Hurt/Comfort | Minor Whump | Astarion Is Bad At Feelings | Mild Angst | Fluff | Jealous Astarion (but of both Gale & Tav because he wants in on it) | Gale Is Crushing Like A Dweeb | Protective Tav
Synopsis:
During the fight with the duergar on the beach, Astarion nearly dies: but Gale and Soren come to his rescue.
And he simply can't wrap his head around why.
Ao3 Link!
Another arrow sliced through his torso like butter, it seemed that Astarion had underestimated the duergar’s aim. It didn't help that they were taking on what, ten of them? The entire beach has become a battlefield, and it was already coated with bodies. He can't believe he was doing this for some strange mushroom creatures. Why did he let himself be dragged along on some heroic side quest again? It wasn't his style at all. This time it seemed he was going to pay the price for it. He grits his teeth and clutches at his side, blood is pouring from the wound rapidly. Plenty of arrows had grazed him during the fight but this one stuck. The world blurred.
No! Was his first thought as he felt himself drop to his knees, desperately clinging to his bow. Astarion attempts to stand, unaware of how much blood is coming out of him, yet, it is such a familiar sensation. To be bleeding out. He had felt this two hundred years ago as Cazador had sunk his fangs into his throat. This time, however, there was no sweeping numbness as he was already dead. Instead there was nothing but spikes of pain pacing back and forth in his nerves.
Then he heard it, “Astarion! Shit!”
It was Soren, screaming out his name from a few meters away. The vampire fell to the ground the dark-sunless sky of the Underdark staring down at him. He can see pretty well still as the edges of his vision flicker with black spots. He feels blood leak from his mouth, and his instinct is to wipe it away. Have to look perfect. He can't move though - too weak. He watches the bard fire off three arrows out of his crossbow, each one striking at the dwarves with a vengeance. A strange shock rolls through the rouge. It is vengeance. There is a rage etched into the elf’s face that startles him.
He had only seen it a few times before. It's practically a snarl, as the bard's long ears pin down and he bares his teeth. His eyes aglow with his magic as he strikes his lute with ferocity. Astarion watches as duergar goes flying away from him as sound crashes into them shattering bones. Then, the bard is rushing towards him. Turning his back to the enemy, and the vampire wants to hiss out about him being an idiot.
But then, he realizes something.
Soren came to his aid. But why? He has to wonder. This entire journey so far he has been nothing but, well, an asshole. His attempts to seduce the man before him - to manipulate him with sex and fake admiration have all failed. Soren would flirt back and play along, but, never was Astarion able to get any further than banter. The bard was infatuated with Gale. He had spent the night with him after they saved the grove, and honestly: Astarion would be lying if he said it hadn't been driving him mad.
What did Gale offer that he couldn't? Wasn't he gorgeous? Wasn't he sexy? Everything you could want for a roll in the hay! It had dawned on him recently, that, maybe Soren wanted something deeper. That's why he was drawn to the helpless romantic wizard. But that meant he didn't have control of the elf. Couldn't bend him to his will. Sure! The man didn't stake him for being a vampire. He allows him to feed on him whenever he needs or even wishes. But that's because he is useful in a fight. He knows that.
So, why, is he feeling a health potion being pressed to his lips. Why is a hand carding through his hair, and forcing him to swallow it? He had just proven that he wasn't good enough for the battles ahead. That he wasn't ready for them. Soren was risking himself!
“Ignis!” Astarion heard Gale's voice shout out, and he saw a dwarf that was trying to get to them erupt into flames. Karlach is somewhere down below them on the beach, cutting through the enemies with a vicious roar. The wizard was now running over to his side. Warmth spreads through his body from the potion.
The vampire whelps as Soren rips the arrow from his body, “Fuck!”
Soren winces, “Sorry!”
Another health potion is forced onto him, he thinks this time, from Gale. The world comes back into full view. His body aches though, and Astarion feels as if he was hit by a carriage. Might as well have been. The pair of men are kneeling in front of him, both of them wearing an almost comically similar expression. Worry. Concern. Relief. Astarion stares at them for a moment, processing. Soren helping he understands, a bit. The bard is making amends for something he has done, that the vampire was sure of: for what he can't tell you. But his whole hero thing is about redemption for him. Reclaiming old childhood dreams.
But Gale? Astarion has been nothing but, honestly, an asshole to him. The wizard has certainly taken it in full stride, however. Tossing back insults and banter. Yet, despite that the human always tries and talk to him. Especially at camp, lord, Gale loves to talk. Yet. It's nice to listen to him. Astarion feels like he can also, just, talk when the wizard gets into one of his rambling moods. They have had strangely long conversations as of late. When Soren is away the wizard for some reason drifts to him and his tent to seek company. Astarion has been trying his damndest not to let his puppy-dog eyes and wonderful smile melt him. But. It's been working.
Just like Soren's gorgeous wavy hair and the way he smirks before telling a terrible joke. Or the way his sword is soaked with blood at his hip right now. The blood he shed for Astarion. The vampire begins to sit up, feeling pinned by the two men before him. The strange warmth blossoming inside of his chest made him reel. It's a foreign sensation. Not like the heated flames of lust he is used to. The fires of passion. No. It's soft and soothing. He hates it. He doesn't want to think about what it means.
“Astarion take it easy!” Gale says unhelpfully, as he reaches for the vampire who nearly falls trying to stand. Astarion flinches as he feels the warmth of the human's hand on his arm. It takes everything in him not to reel away. This doesn't make sense. Gale should hate him. Soren shouldn't care for him. He hasn't given nor managed to give either of them anything. No sex. No kind words. No grand acts of heroism. Not even stupid silly gifts. He has seen Soren present magical scrolls to Gale like he was bringing home gold.
“C’mon sit down, man. You just almost died.” Soren grabs the vampire by the shoulder softly, his grip is loose. It grounds him, and slowly, he allows the bard to lead him to the wooden floorboards beneath them. One yellow eye and the other a brilliant icy-blue stare at him searching his face and body. Brows are furrowed and the elf curses underneath his breath. “Fuck! I should've not let any of them see you!”
Astarion is puzzled at the sound of guilt in his voice. He doesn't let it show, he waves a hand through the air allowing his body to stop shaking. Focusing on doing - something. Anything to ignore this buzzing inside of his chest. The lump in his throat. “Darling, I'm fine.”
“You were not though,” Gale pipes up and the vampire wonders not for the first time, if the man ever has a filter. “That's the problem. We had agreed to cover you and we failed -”
Soren cuts the wizard off, his intense gaze flicking to the human. Astarion is grateful for it. He felt trapped beneath it. Caught in the waves of color as if they were raging oceans. “No, I failed. I should have fucking killed the bastards faster. If I - if we lost you Astarion…”
His voice trails off, and his gaze looks off into the distance for a moment. The vampire feels that warmth again. Stronger than before. Gale has a similar look of devastation that is sweeping in. The pair are so oddly in sync it is almost comical. They must have been spending a lot of time together. Why does that make his stomach twist into knots? Not quite in a jealous way. More like - loneliness. Being left out way. It makes him want to puke.
“Let's not think about that.” Gale breaks the heavy silence, “He's alive, that's what matters. We got to him in time.”
A strange anger enters his voice, and he points at Astarion, “If you ever scare me like that again, I will make your hair purple!”
“What?” the rouge manages eloquently, confusion flooding his features. Soren laughs as Gale flushes a bit realizing that his threat was well, odd. The wizard shoves at him, and it seems to only make Soren giggle more. The world seems to freeze for a split second, as Astarion stares at the pair. A perfect image, as they are bathed in the soft glows of the mushrooms and crystals around them.
They look so happy. That's when the vampire recognizes the blood on them, not from the enemy. Both of them seemed to have taken some heavy blows themselves from the battle. Gale has a large slash across his arm, it having torn his sleeve right off. Soren has about a dozen cuts and scraps from arrows plinking off his armor. Barely missing. Not to mention, the gash across his leg from where a dwarf stabbed him. They were both mostly long-ranged fighters like Astarion, so how -
It dawned on him.
It was when they ran over to him. When they turned their backs to the enemy.
“You fucking idiots.” He hisses out and he grabs healing potions from his pack, tossing them to the men. Gale doesn't catch him and Soren has to save it from falling to the ground. “You two took hits running over here to save me! You could have gotten yourselves killed and that would be, well, bad!”
Soren blinks, and it seems he just realizes he is injured. None of them have even noticed the battle is over, as the beach has gone silent. Karlach had cut through the last of them. “It was worth it to make sure you were okay.”
The words cut into Astarion. Sharp. Strange. Foreign. He watched as the bard downed the potion, wounds closing and bruises fading. Gale followed his lead, though, he fumbled shakily with the cork on it. He seemed worse for wear than the bard beside him, exhausted. He had used a lot of mana during the battle.
“Losing a little bit of blood is nothing compared to your potential death.” Gale comments, as if it is a matter of fact. That Astarion dying was worth the pain. Was worth their own lives, potentially.
The vampire shakes his head, and he looks away swallowing hard. “Whatever. Never pull a stunt like that again for me, got it?” The unsaid words rang in his head. You two are worth more than I could ever be.
“Can't make any promises.” Soren quips, and he grins at the man. “Give it up, Astarion. We care about you, and you can't stop us.”
“Why?” It falls out from his lips in a whisper, before he can stop it. Astarion regrets it the moment the words leave his mouth. He doesn't look at either man, as silence falls between them. He wishes he could run, but, his legs still feel so weak. He is pathetic. Can't even escape his problems properly. If he had his way with Soren - ugh! None of this would be happening. Then he wouldn't be questioning everything the man did for him, because he knows what he wanted from him. But, he doesn't - and Gale? Even bigger of a mystery.
Gale speaks first, clearing his throat. The sound has the vampire looking up at him. “I for one, believe it to be rude to let your comrades lay on the ground and bleed out. Also! I would greatly miss our late-night readings! I have never met someone with the same taste as me before in literature, and passion. Plus, when I can't sleep because of this retched orb-” he taps his chest. “You -”
There is a break in his words, a flood of emotion entering the wizard's eyes. He glances away from Astarion and the rouge's thoughts reel. “You keep me company, and I know you don't like me much. It's nice though. To just talk to you and it would be a shame if I lost that. You're also funny - and - well, I think Soren it's your turn to explain!”
Soren shakes his head a bit, as Gale cuts himself off from his rambling, and there is a pink color in his face. The bard looks at him, his gaze is just as intense as before.
“I care for you, simple as that. If you need reasons why, well,” he clears his throat, and he counts off on his fingers as he speaks. “You're funny, as Gale stated. You have wonderful fashion taste and keep this party well dressed. You have brilliant taste in wine and books, oh! And you are just the niftiest little lockpick! Also, you're endearing. I like your laugh, too. And -” his eyes shine. “You'd do the same for me. I know it.”
Astarion scowls, his skin is crawling. “Do you, now?”
“I do.” It was said with such trust, and assurance that the vampire knew he meant it. He thinks about how many nights the bard has let him feed upon him. Allowing himself to be held in the predator's claws and not once, has he been afraid. Even that first time: Soren hadn't shown a hint of fear. Astarion groans.
“I think this just proves to me you two are insane.” He states simply and stands up, dusting himself off. Gale follows his movements and it looks like he wants to say something, but he stops. He doesn't want to push. It feels like they already stepped on a minefield. Maybe tonight, at camp when the weariness of the battle has faded. He already knows Soren will question Astarion about this. About his need to prove that their care is fake. He can see it in his features.
Determined and stubborn as always.
Astarion crosses his arms over his chest, “That was quite enough mushy talk for me. Shall we start looting bodies?”
Soren grins wickedly, “Already on it!”
The bard runs like a giddy child over to the nearest corpse and begins to rummage through their pockets.
“Gale! This one has a scroll of Thunderwave!” He declares and tosses it to the wizard who lights up as if they don't have five of them already. Astarion stares at them for too long, just watching as they talk and loot. Tossing each other items. A perfect picture. He feels as if his heart flutters, but it's impossible. He turns away only to be hit in the back of the head with something metal.
“Hey!” He shouts and spins around, Gale is staring at him sheepishly.
“Sorry! I thought you'd catch it! It's for you.” the rouge shakes his head before he plucks the ring that was thrown at him off the ground. He pauses. There is nothing magical about it from what he can see, it's just a simple golden band with red gemstones all around. He raised an eyebrow.
“Gale, this is useless.”
The wizard shrugs, “It matches your eyes. I thought you'd appreciate it-”
“Catch!” Soren called out and Astarion had no time to react before a pouch was thrown at his face, the bard was grinning with mischief as it hit him square in the nose. The vampire shakes his head.
“You did that on purpose!” He half-whines out, but he is beginning to feel lighter. Catching onto the playfulness in the bard's gaze.
Soren's voice is sing-song, “You can't prove it. Also! Maybe just don't be so slow.”
Astarion grins wickedly, thinking that he shall get sweet revenge. He walks up to a dwarf whose body is charred, he snags gold coins off of them. Perfect. With precision, he throws each one of them at Soren, who catches them all without looking. The vampire gaped.
The bard merely smirks at him, “You're gonna have to try harder than that!”
“Why you little…”
“I'm not little anywhere, sweetheart.” The bard winks. Astarion and Gale flush at the sudden comment. The rouge can shake it off easily and he ignores the flutter inside of his chest. Gale on the other hand seems to be steaming a bit, too caught up in the imagery his mind conjured up.
Then he gets hit in the face with a coin. “Ow! Soren, you asshole!”
The bard is cackling now before he dips into the shadows vanishing from sight. Astarion cracks his neck, and he snatches the coin that fell in front of Gale.
“Oh, it's a war now.” He flips the coin. “What do you say, wizard? Wanna help me get revenge?”
Gale pauses and he nods, taking a coin offered to him by the vampire. A smile spreads across his features, his eyes lighting up with an oddly, malicious look. Astarion can't help but, appreciate it.
“Gladly.”
Astarion could get used to this.
16 notes
·
View notes
Okay, you know what?
The bastard is almost, on an aesthetic level, not terrible to look at while he’s like this.
Asleep, he can’t be a fucking sociopath or an asshole. Those too-clever eyes of his aren’t judging and dissecting, they’re closed.
The absence of that bright blue gaze makes him seem surprisingly vulnerable.
So does the way Daz has, in the short while he’s been asleep, already snuggled up to him and is being clingy.
After the last few hours of running around looking for him, it’s a relief to know that he’s been mostly fine all along.
Naturally, when Daz didn’t come home, Raine got worried. The Council, aside from Lee who had been kept out of it, have been searching his known hidey-holes for hours now.
Obviously the HQ was one of the first places they checked, but the wall that leads into the hidden room was sealed off. They assumed that meant he wasn’t there, so they ignored it.
It wasn’t until Aster, in a last-ditch attempt, decided to open it up and check that the bastard was found.
He’d been fine, thankfully. Just having hyper fixated on the code and shut out everything else.
Aster carefully takes his com out and taps out a message to the others.
ShiningAster: bastard located. fine but asleep. focused on coding body for Innit, forgot he has a human body.
RaineStorm: seriously?? uhg, at least it’s normal shit this time
RaineStorm: as opposed to soul crushing despair and existential terror
Khons: need help moving him?
ShiningAster: staying here. fell asleep on me, he has nightmares. also touched starved. might be less bastard if he gets good sleep
It’s only a little bit of a lie. Technically, none of that was wrong, but the implication was that Daz wasn’t strongarmed into accepting.
RaineStorm: yeah his nightmares are BAD and music only kinda helps.
ShiningAster: I think I can fix it. saying more will make him pissy
Khons: well if he’s not in trouble and staying there we’re going to bed
ShiningAster: night
RaineStorm: gn
RaineStorm: it’s gonna be really funny seeing him fall for you ngl
ShiningAster: its gonna be weird as fuck for me
After a moment, he switches to DMs.
ShiningAster: at some point we have a kid. Not adopted I think. looks just like him. her name is Azira. means rising star.
RaineStorm: WHAT THE FUCK??????
ShiningAster: also he made a deal to help with Innits body for seeing the same shit I do. but for me obviously
RaineStorm: oh my god that stupid asshole
RaineStorm: maybe he’ll learn his lesson. bc you’re def good to him, I know you.
ShiningAster: hes capable of being good to me back. too busy being petty for now though
RaineStorm: yeahhhhhh. he’s def an acquired taste. but he really is a great guy when you get past his him-ness
ShiningAster: lol
RaineStorm: he figured out I’d want a heated tub, art studio, and a porch. it’s freaky tbh but it’s nice.
ShiningAster: sounds fake but ok
RaineStorm: you’ve never seen him be like that so it’s hard to picture but it’s true!
That’s not quite right; Aster has seen Daz be kind and generous to others…he’s just never been the target.
No, maybe that’s not fair. He’s dragged Aster to a place of being better in a way he never would have done on his own. Despite his attitude, it did still benefit Aster.
Granted, he’s also been an asshole on purpose for literal years, so. That kind of events out.
ShiningAster: honestly just want to eat his damn food without being drugged
RaineStorm: something something the way to a man’s heart is through his stomach
ShiningAster: it sucks so bad to play chicken on if Ill suffer when I touch his cooking
ShiningAster: usually its worth it. at least until whatever he put in it hits
RaineStorm: and now we know why
ShiningAster: maybe therapy will fix him
RaineStorm: ngl I think not thinking he’ll kill anyone he loves will do wonders on its own
RaineStorm: but therapy will help too probably
ShiningAster: cant say much for obvious reasons but hes fundamentally broken. has been for most of his life.
ShiningAster: but Id never have a kid if he didnt seem in a good place. so whatever he does works
RaineStorm: have you considered it might be the power of love
ShiningAster: fuck you
RaineStorm: I’m serious!! think about it, he’s spent like 4 years thinking being loved will get that person killed
RaineStorm: he might have divine confirmation but he’s stubborn. might not feel real
RaineStorm: soooo someone who loves him despite his bullshit might be the thing that makes him be less…yknow
Ah, another reminder of how deeply fucked up Daz actually is.
ShiningAster: could be having someone who knows his secrets or even just Innit being out
RaineStorm: remind it that it needs a new name btw. too close to existing ones
RaineStorm: but yeah that probably helps too
RaineStorm: I feel awful I never noticed he was so…unwell
ShiningAster: hes good at hiding what he wants to hide. cant blame yourself when hes a master manipulator.
Said master manipulator mumbles into Aster’s chest, voice small, “I missed you.”
And, fuck, something in his chest feels like it cracks when Aster realizes what and who Daz must be dreaming about.
There’s nobody it could be but his former mentor. The person who gave him everything he ever wanted…and then committed an unspeakable sin against him.
Clearly, Daz still misses him. Despite what Dream had done to him, a part of him still misses the person who crushed him infinitely worse than anyone before him.
Despite only getting brief glimpses of that time, Aster gets the impression that Dream had been someone whose preciousness went beyond words.
Yet Daz couldn’t stomach letting him have his way after what he did. He rejected a place as a near-god beside someone who, despite the sickness in his soul, was devoted to him to a disturbing degree.
That…takes a strength of will that Aster isn’t completely sure he could match.
Fuck, nor does the decision to use the lethally broken enchantment as a backup plan.
If the rest of the server had failed to kill him, Daz would have chosen a death so agonizing that it chills Aster to his core.
It’s not hard to see why Daz is so…himself, honestly. Aster might not be able to think like him, nor agree with his actions, but in a fucked up way he can follow most of the logic now that he has the pieces.
He swallows as Daz’s voice wavers and cracks. “You said you’d protect me, so why…”
Aster adjusts his arms to a more comfortable positon, and messes with his hair more. “I’m not him, Daz. You’re not Tommy any more. Dream was sick– you know that.”
Horrifyingly, Daz starts shaking as he cries.
He rushes to add, “But– but you can have something new. Fuck, if you can be even halfway decent, I’d fall for you pretty damn quick. You can be charming, you know? And– and pretty romantic. It was– maybe it wouldn’t be awful. If you just stopped being such a bastard–”
At a loss for what else to do, he cuts himself off and starts humming.
Eventually, Daz slips back into deeper sleep.
But the memory of this unsettlingly fragile side of him will remain in the back of Aster’s head. Even when Daz is being the biggest bastard he can be…Aster knows he’ll remember this.
2 notes
·
View notes