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steddieas-shegoes · 2 months

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uh. what?

for @steddielovemonth prompt 'love is healing wounds'

rated m | 1,782 words | cw: injury recovery, mild blood, recreational drug use | tags: post s4, hurt/comfort, getting together, fade to black

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The stitches pulled and he couldn't get comfortable. He almost wished Robin hadn't made him get checked over, but anything that required this many stitches probably would've killed him if he hadn't. At least that's what Nancy said when he complained to her about it.

But now, Steve couldn't sleep, and sleep was apparently very important for healing.

The alarm clock next to his bed said 2:07 am, so calling someone was out. Going somewhere was also out, unless he wanted to go to the 24 hour diner alone.

Fresh air sounded good until he realized he'd have to either go for a walk in the middle of the night alone or sit by the pool alone.

He didn't want to be alone.

His phone started to ring just when he was considering taking a shower out of boredom.

"Harrington residence, this is Steve."

"So formal for two in the morning, Stevie," Eddie's laugh rang through the line and Steve couldn't help smiling. Something about Eddie's energy was contagious, a beacon of light when all he had was the darkness of his room.

"Didn't know if it was an international business partner for my parents. Happens sometimes when they forget time zones." Steve moved to the edge of his bed so the cord didn't have to stretch as far. "What are you doing up?"

"Had a dream about being eaten alive again. This time they managed to eat both of my nipples." Eddie scoffed. "Isn't one enough?"

Steve chuckled. "And you can't go back to sleep because you're scared they'll come take your other nipple?"

"It's a genuine concern, Steve! I have big dreams of piercing this thing and if they take it from me, what do I have left?"

"I think you'd probably just find something else to pierce," Steve shook thoughts of what that might be out of his head before they could take over. "So you can't sleep. You thought you'd call and wake me up to suffer with you?"

Eddie was silent for a moment before responding. "Did I wake you up?"

"No," Steve said quickly, not wanting Eddie to feel bad. "I was awake."

"Nightmare?"

"No, stitches are bothering me."

"You wanna come over? I found my hidden stash. Might help with the stitches," Eddie offered.

Steve probably shouldn't. He was on some pain meds already and if he got too fucked up, he'd probably cry. That's what happened last time he had some of whatever Eddie was selling.

"I'll come over, but probably shouldn't have anything. Robin would kill me if I end up in the hospital," Steve gave a half-truth.

"Yeah, she's terrifying. I'll leave the door unlocked."

Before Steve could tell him that was a bad idea, he hung up.

********

When Steve got to Eddie's, he let out the breath he'd been holding the entire drive. Eddie was sitting on the porch, alone, his guitar by his side.

Maybe he'd been playing already, or maybe he planned to play to help distract Steve from the way his skin felt like it was too much.

He got out of the car and waved when Eddie looked over at him with a smile.

"Didn't think you'd get here so quick," Eddie didn't bother standing up, Steve just knew to go sit by him.

But the steps on the Munson's porch were rickety at best, "temporary" according to the government officials who had stuck them here because they didn't think it was worth putting them in a home across town, and Steve's eyes hadn't quite adjusted to the dull glow of the light by the front door. He missed the top step and immediately fell, barely catching himself on the wood of the porch.

Eddie was helping him up immediately, doing his best not to make his own injuries worse.

"Shit, you okay? Wayne tried fixing it, but it just keeps getting loose."

Steve felt a stinging pain on his side, and when his hand grazed over the worst of his bites, he felt something warm and wet on his fingers.

"Shit," without looking, he knew he'd torn his stitches. "Eddie, I need a towel or something."

"Shit, that's a lot of blood. That's a lot of blood. It shouldn't be that much, right? Like even tearing your stitches, it shouldn't be-"

"Eddie." Steve poked his arm, stayed as calm as he could. He bled easy, so sometimes even small things looked worse than they were. "Towel."

"Right, yeah. Should you come with me?" Eddie shook his head. "I mean can you move? Should you stay here?"

"I'll sit here until I have a towel. Don't wanna get blood on the carpet."

"Got it."

Eddie still seemed unsure about leaving him, but must have noticed how much blood was soaking through Steve's shirt and rushed inside. He was back in less than a minute, a black towel in his hand.

"It's clean. It's the one I usually use for my hair, but I didn't get to fold it from the dryer yet. Um, just put pressure on it."

Steve knew what to do, was used to putting pressure on wounds, but appreciated Eddie trying to triage it anyway.

"You got a needle and thread, right?" Steve asked once he took his shirt off and put pressure on the bite. It was already bleeding much less, a positive sign that maybe it wouldn't be too bad.

"I mean, I do. I don't have medical tools that have been sanitized properly."

"You have water to boil and vodka?"

"Steve. I'm not fucking performing a medical procedure on your stomach," Eddie shook his head. "Do you have a death wish or something?"

"I trust you."

The words hung heavy between them, despite the fact it wasn't exactly news to either of them. They'd been through it all together, why wouldn't he trust him?

"Okay, let's get inside and I'll get everything ready."

Getting inside was easier said than done. The bleeding had mostly stopped, but the pain had really started to set in and every breath felt like knives stabbing into him.

"Deep breath, Stevie," Eddie said as he sat him down on the couch and helped him lay back. "I'll get you something for the pain."

"Something" was an edible, and Eddie seemed hesitant to give it to him, but all reservations Steve previously had went out the window as he felt his hands shaking from the pain.

Eddie prepared everything while the edible kicked in, checking in with Steve every few minutes to make sure he hadn't passed out or started bleeding again.

When the room started to feel blurry and his head felt light, Steve smiled over at Eddie, who looked nervous.

"Ready for your magic hands," Steve wiggled his brows.

Eddie made a strangled sound before leaning over the wound and wiping some of the blood away gently so he could see where to stitch him back up.

He worked as quickly as possible, humming softly to distract himself and Steve from what was happening.

Steve was high.

He was high and he was feeling good despite the needle in his skin.

He drifted for a bit, couldn't be sure how long, but eventually, Eddie was touching his cheek and making him open his eyes.

"Think you should stand up so I can wrap a bandage on it. Then you can try to shower off some of the blood if you want. Wayne got one of those removable showerheads. Feels fancy," Eddie said as he moved the hair off of Steve's face.

"Help?" Steve managed to ask.

"Yeah, I can help you with the wrap and start the shower for you," Eddie nodded.

"In the shower?" Steve asked.

Eddie paused. "I can keep us dressed?"

"But." Steve huffed. "Blood."

Eddie couldn't help but laugh at his confusion, Steve's lips pouting out and his eyes squinting. "Okay, okay. If you're okay with it, I'm okay with it. You're high as shit, man."

"I'm standing right on the ground," Steve waved his arms around him. "Or is the ground standing on me but the other way?"

"God, this is the best. Okay, let's go."

"Wait!" Steve grabbed Eddie's arms. "You should know something."

Eddie raised his brows in question. "Go on."

"I'm very in love with you. And also kinda hard."

Eddie blinked, not processing. Now he felt high.

"Uh. What?"

"I have an erection." Steve made a disgusted face. "Hate that word. Sounds so middle school sex ed."

"It is." Eddie shook his head. "I guess I meant more like, how and why and what the hell do you mean by it."

Steve giggled. "I said you had magic hands and I was right."

"Dude, I was literally giving you stitches. I am failing to see why that would make you hard."

"It's cuz you're so gentle and your tongue sticks out when you're trying to focus. And also I started thinking about what you'd do if I couldn't move," Steve sighed dreamily. "You have handcuffs."

"Okay. Let's pause." Eddie let out a small hysterical laugh. "You want me to help you in the shower because you love me? Do you even need help?"

"Probably. But I also want help. And also you're a helper for me."

"What does that even mean? Where's Robin when you need her to decode what the hell you're talking about?"

"You're a helper for me! Because you help me be better about asking for help! And then you help!"

"Okay, that's. Good. I'm still not sure what's happening."

"You're gonna help me shower. I'm gonna try very hard not to come. We sleep?" Steve looked around Eddie out the window, like he was checking if it was still night time. "And then in the morning I wake up and get yelled at by Robin."

"Why would she-"

"The stitches. And the telling you I love you thing. She's gonna be real mad about that."

"Why?" Eddie felt like he was losing it. What was even happening anymore? How had he completely lost control of the night?

"She wanted to help me do a speech thing."

This was just getting more wild.

Steve needed a shower, and he needed sleep. Eddie needed a minute to gather his own thoughts.

"Shower. Sleep. Talk in the morning." Eddie raised his hand to cup Steve's neck. "Robin murders you after we talk."

"Deal." Steve's face sank, but he quickly perked back up. "But shower?"

"Yes, shower. Go, horndog."

Steve laughed as he half-limped to the bathroom, clearly feeling some pain even with the drugs in his system. Eddie followed and resisted touching Steve as much as possible.

Which ended up being about two minutes.

#steddie #steve harrington #eddie munson #stranger things #steddielovemonth #love is healing wounds #injury recovery #cw: mild blood #post s4 #hurt/comfort #getting to know you #tending to wounds

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annaberunoyume · 3 months

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Monsters engines au imagine (based on @ohjeeztrains au): Imagine stumbling into The Island of Sodor. It's so dark you get spooked by Thomas, who was following you curiously...While trying to run away , you pierce your arm.You sob, begging frantically for mercy, attracting the attention of the other monster engines. Thomas whimpers apologetically, but then Edward purrs him aside...He examines you and looks in empathy at the nasty metal staff stuck in your arm. Soon, he is joined by James and the two wordlessly discuss the matter... Edward is taken over by his paternal instinct...But James takes a few moments longer to warm up to you...As you sniff and hold your arm...He sighs and makes doe eyes at you. You exhale, in relief as Thomas sniffs, nuzzling you as if to apologize. You stroke him slightly. ''It's fine...I don't think you meant to scare me.'' Then, you yelp as Edward picks you up by your sweater much like a pup. You are soon put down in his shed, which he shares with Percy, Thomas and James... Much like a cat, he pushes you until you are lying in his fore leg, proceeding to first pull out the staff...Then licking the wound, before wrapping his tail around it to stop the bleeding...You end up passing out from exhaustion as well as how soft and warm his tail is...And his purring...

#monster engines #monster engines au #edward is a father #thomas the tank engine #thomas and friends #ttte #ttte james #ttte edward #ttte percy #ttte thomas #hurt/comfort #wound #fright #fear #purr #giant/tiny #furr #furry tail #tending to wounds

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iwritestuff-maybe · 7 months

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Please hold still

A/n: hello :) I’m going to put a small tw on this for a mention of an accident that results in some painful cuts. There really isn’t mention of anything gruesome. Thank you enjoy!

“Please. Try to sit still..yes, yes I know it hurts.” You’d just gotten into an accident and were hurt pretty bad. Peter was trying his best to clean and tend to your wounds but you just couldn’t stop squirming and flinching away. “I’m so sorry I have to do this…I really hate hurting you.” You shut your eyes tight and tried to sit still as he gently dabbed your cuts. “You’re doing so well love just a few more. I’m so sorry you got hurt,” and boy did it hurt. You knew he was just helping and being as gentle as he could be..but it was just awful. You tried your best you really did but you couldn’t take it anymore you just start sobbing. Peter lifts his hand immediately and cups your cheek wiping away those crocodile tears. “I know dear I know.” He made hushing and cooing noises that really calmed you down. “I just did the last one sweet thing the stinging will go away I promise” He held your face in his hands while demonstrating deep breaths. As the pain slowly faded you calmed down. “You’re so..perfect” he said after a pause. “You did really good too. Thank you for letting me take care of you.” He ran his fingers up and down your back and very carefully held you close.

#peter parker #peter parker x reader #x reader #spider man #spiderman #spiderman x reader #hurt reader #tending to wounds #comfort #hurt/comfort #marvel #avengers #fanfic #tom holland #gender nuetral reader

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elydition · 2 years

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Stained

After the Vision Hunt Decree ended and the Sakoku Decree was abolished, Heizou had nothing he could arrest Kazuha on. It irked him, but he let it be.

While relaxing in the city one day, Heizou spotted the samurai beaten and bleeding. He couldn't help but assist the extremely attractive samurai.

It seems something could be bubbling between them.

“It bothers you that you couldn’t arrest Kazuha, doesn’t it?” Kuki Shinobu said. The detective near her was sprawled out on the lush grass right outside of Inazuma City. He was soaking in the sun rays, eyes shut like a content cat.

“Of course, He managed to slip away numerous times and just when he was within reach, there was nothing I could charge him with.” Heizou sighed, dragging himself up into a sitting position. “He’s a good man with good intentions, but his actions at one point in time were illegal. It’s only natural, it's like an itch I can never scratch.”

“If it makes you feel any better, I had to get the Arataki Gang out of the slammer a few times already this month.”

“It’s the 8th?” Heizou turns around to face her. Her expression just shows aloofness as always. “How do they manage to do it?”

“I wish I knew, detective. If you’ll excuse me,” Kuki rose, brushing the grass from her shorts and thighs. “I have a meeting with another merchant.”

“Have fun!” Heizou called out teasingly, knowing she would not have fun.

When Heizou was content to lie back on the grass, platinum hair and a man dressed in red came into his vision. He was on the beach below the cliff Heizou was resting on.

Heizou knew Kazuha lingered after the Irodori festival, but had yet to see him since his return. However, something was wrong with the samurai. Heizou could make out a limp and several slashes along his attire. Blood was splattered across his skin and hair.

Without a second thought, Heizou leapt down to assist him. Kazuha whipped around, summoning his blade with an emotionless gaze. Upon recognizing the man before him, Kazuha sheathed his weapon.

His expression did not waiver.

“You’re injured, Kazuha.” Heizou stepped forward, but saw Kazuha stumble backwards. “What happened?”

“Nothing of your concern. I will tend to it.” Kazuha made the move to walk away, but Heizou dashed in front of him.

“At least let me help you clean your wounds. I can’t mend clothing, but I can watch your back.” Heizou’s words cracked through Kazuha’s steely stare. “Were you ambushed?”

“As I said, it is none-“

“It is!” Heizou interjected. “If the situation calls for it there can be legal action taken against them and you know it.”

“It doesn't matter. Kairagi ambushed me while I was sleeping under the assumption I had stolen something from their camp.” Kazuha murmured, swaying gently.

Heizou reached out to bring Kazuha’s arm across his back, shouldering the weight Kazuha could not handle. Kazuha crumpled into Heizou’s side immediately; the aid was welcomed.

“I know there’s a hilichurl camp nearby. I can clear it out quickly and we can station there to tend to you,” Heizou whispered. His ears were burning at Kazuha’s proximity. The man was handsome, Heizou couldn’t deny it. His main priority should be assisting the irresistible samurai, not calming his pounding heart.

“I can still fight, Heizou. I've been in worse condition,” Kazuha said, his voice rumbling deep within his chest. It was unlike the airy tone Heizou was familiar with. The new sound was a result of exhaustion most likely.

“Not on my watch. I can handle myself.”

— — —

Kazuha watched from a rock close to the camp as Heizou effortlessly battled the hiluchurls. Using the water from the sea and flame of the stove to his advantage, he made quick work of the camp.

Heizou reignited the flame he had accidentally extinguished with practiced care. Kazuha had replenished enough energy while sitting so he could make it to the camp on his own.

Kazuha always had a small bag of supplies on hand to tend his injuries with. With his current injuries, however, they were hard to reach without unraveling his clothes.

“Heizou,” Kazuha called out as he sat down. Heizou was startled by the man’s appearance.

“I was going to return-“

“Help me undress,” Kazuha said quietly. His voice wavering was a surprise to himself and Heizou.

“I- Yeah.” Heizou said, jogging over to Kazuha’s side. “You wear quite a few layers.”

“I’m predominantly outside, it's best to wear more and remove layers than freeze during the night.” Heizou chuckled to himself, not at all surprised by the sound reasoning.

In silence thick enough to slice, Heizou assisted Kazuha in undressing. His shorts weren’t in need of mending, nor were any injuries to his legs. Heizou hoped his face was not visibly flushed, it's been quite some time since he was put in a situation like this.

However, when the final white layer of Kazuha’s clothes remained, it had been stained with blood.

“You have lost too much blood, Kazuha,” Heizou immediately panics inwardly. He is not a healer and has no clue how to seriously tend to someone. Kazuha grips Heizou’s wrist within his slender fingers.

“It’s not as bad as it may seem. You’ll most likely have to cut this layer off. It’s meant to be pulled over my head, but I cannot lift my arms.” Heizou immediately found one of the loose seams due to the slash of a katana, and ripped the shirt quickly using that weak point.

“My my. Brazen, aren’t we?” Kazuha teased, laughing weakly at Heizou’s methods. The detective could feel heat rising to his cheeks at his comment. Heizou could see a bag among the layers they had removed. Grabbing it, Kazuha silently nodded in confirmation.

Bandages, alcohol, needles and thread, and more various items were within the bag. A makeshift first aid kit for his travels.

“You know this is going to sting, right?” Heizou used the undershirt he ripped as cloth to clean Kazuha’s wounds with, dousing it in alcohol beforehand.

“Of course. Do what you must,” Kazuha closed his eyes and steadied his breathing. Heizou propped one knee beside Kazuha’s hip, anchoring himself.

Heizou gently cleaned the bloody wounds. He watched Kazuha’s face to make sure he wasn’t being too aggressive with the torn skin. Heizou never would have known he was affected by the alcohol if he couldn’t feel the muscles beneath his hands twitch and spasm.

Scars littered Kazuha’s skin. There were more than Heizou could count. Some were fresh and dark in color, while others had started to fade and be overlapped with new ones.

“Alright,” Heizou sighed. “I’ll bandage you up for now, but I’d recommend asking Miss Shinobu for proper healing treatment.”

“I will entertain it.”

The same silence from earlier draped over them, although more tense than uncomfortable. Heizou quickly bandaged Kazuha’s arms and torso. Before he could remove his hands from Kazuha’s skin, the samurai once again grabbed Heizou’s wrists.

“Thank you for assisting me, detective,” Kazuha said, pressing his lips to the back of Heizou’s hand. The action sent a shiver through his body as he stumbled for what to say.

“I- It’s- There’s nothing-“ Heizou’s free hand was left waving about as Kazuha kept his eyes trained on Heizou. The samurai slowly rose to his feet, mere inches from Heizou’s face.

“To be so bold earlier then have the nerve to be flustered,” Kazuha murmured. “Most entertaining.”

“I will figure out how to arrest you if you keep teasing me,” Heizou shut his eyes, huffing indignantly. One of Kazuha’s hands came to gently rest on Heizou’s waist.

“Only you have been so determined to catch me. The other officials never cared quite as much.” Kazuha leaned in, brushing their noses together. Heizou’s mind quickly tried to come up with a reason for Kazuha’s closeness. However, the press of his lips against the corner of Heizou’s mouth left him reeling.

“Perhaps we can meet again in a different scenario.” Kazuha elicited a silent gasp from Heizou after a quick squeeze to his waist.

“Until next time.”

#kazuhei #shikanoin heizou #kaedehara kazuha #genshin impact #heikazu #cross posted from ao3 #minor injuries #tending to wounds #casual rivals #unresolved tension #almost kiss

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starsarefire824 · 1 year

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Mike stirs awake and the first thing his brain perceives is the excruciating pain in his right shoulder. He sucks a deep breath in through his teeth and re-positions his weight back a little so it’s more comfortable. He blinks, focusing his vision on the far wooden wall where a painting hangs crooked. The bright daylight from the window behind him casts a heavy white glare and he squints. He thinks it’s of some sheep in a field, but he can’t be sure. There’s a tiny tickle at his exposed back and he likes the way the breeze cools the wet heat in between his shoulder blades. He wonders absently what time it is. It seems late.

Blinking again, he takes another deep breath and rubs his hand over his face and in the corner of his left eye.

It wasn’t a dream after all.

Will’s still there, facing away from him. He has thrown the quilt off his upper body in the night leaving his shoulders and back exposed. Mike frowns as he trails his eyes up and down the length of him. There are scratches caked with dried blood scattered from the nape of his neck to where his hips disappear beneath the sheets and the hours have allowed bruises to bloom. They are painted in a deepening purple along one shoulder blade, at the soft spot at his side that dips before the curve of his hip, and a large, angry abrasion, red and black at its edges billows over the entire expanse of the left side of his ribcage like a storm cloud.

Mike’s heart sinks into his stomach as his mind processes what he’s seeing; as he realizes that Will’s injuries are so much worse than they’d originally thought. He wipes his bangs out of his face, roughly wiping the tear from his cheek as he pulls up on his elbow.

When he sits up to stretch, blankets falling towards his waist, he lets out a little gasp when his eyes focus on what Will had been hiding from his vision.

Joyce is perched at the edge of the bed. Her face opens up into a big smile as soon as she sees him. Her eyes are already shining with tears.

“Hey, baby,” she murmurs to him, reaching her hand over Will and gently caressing his arm. “Are you okay?”

Mike is suddenly awake, and he sits up straighter in the bed. He bends his knees and rests his elbows there, motioning to flip the covers off of him and get out of bed before it dawns on him that he’s in his boxers. He blushes and presses his lips together. Sweat pricks at the small of his back and behind his knees.

“Hey, Mrs. Byers,” he greets her sheepishly.

“Are you okay?” she asks a second time, eyebrows going up with concern. “We got back about two hours ago, but you guys were out and I didn’t want to wake you.”

Mike nods earnestly and swallows. “Yeah. We’re okay. Uhm—-there were—demogdogs on our patrol. And Will killed them, but—one got him. He was bleeding–” He sucks in a breath, trying to keep his voice steady. “And—-he was hurt—but I was able to bring him back here, and I cleaned it up as best I could and stitched the one cut up—just like Hop showed us—”

Joyce squeezes his wrist again, her thumb massaging him lovingly. “You did great, Mike. Hop looked at it while Will was sleeping. It looks good—-” her voice breaks as she fights off crying. “You did good,” she whispers.

Chapter 2: The Bath- Come Away With Me- Click me to read the rest!

#byler #byler fanfic #justmyname #writing snippets #tending to wounds #friendship/love #mike wheeler #will byers #apocalypse vibes

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melinoiaagesander · 2 years

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Chapter 9 is up! :)

#geralt of rivia #geraskier #jaskier the bard #jaskier #lily lavender chamomile #my fanfiction #myfic #fanfic #fanfiction #netflix the witcher #the witcher #the witcher season 2 #angst #jealousy #geralt is jealous #tending to wounds

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hansoeii · 9 months

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look at you, you're gorgeous!

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chaoticstray · 6 months

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Day 27: Tending To Wounds.

Prompts: https://www.tumblr.com/lycaniums-room/728967743294128128/my-goretober-list-for-this-year-feel-free-to-use?source=share

#inktober #bandaids #drawing #traditional #2023 #ink #dip pen #chaoticstray #stray #tending to wounds

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moncuries · 1 year

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ouch!

#i think im getting better at beskar #also if u werent following along this is based on achilles tending patroclus wounds #dinluke #my art #fanart #din djarin #luke skywalker #the mandalorian #star wars #its MY mandalorian and i get to decide if he wears a slutty little tanktop underneath

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raepliica · 11 months

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protecting each other

#trigun #cw blood #nicholas d. wolfwood #vash the stampede #vashwood #my art #hurt/comfort #i needed to draw them covered in blood #nothing more romantic than going ape shit when your buddy is injured<3 #and then lovingly tending to his wounds and staying by his side to comfort him<3<3 #they both would blame themselves sm for letting the other be wounded #ww wouldnt try to argue with vash that its no use for him to feel guilty and would just be there until his mood is better #while vash would try to understate his pain to try and reassure ww but he would totally see through his bs #THEY NEED TO COMMUNICATE PROPERLY IT MAKES ME GO CRAZY #vashwood nose nuzzle heals my soul #raepliica_art

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eggo-tistical · 4 months

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i think they might be boy best friends guys.. it’s hard to tell

#biohazard #resident evil #leon kennedy #leon kennedy fanart #luis serra #luis serra fanart #serennedy #fanart #my artwork #wound tending OH MY GODDD #acts of service #i think that typa stuff is right up these goobers’ alleys #i go be crazy now blah blah blah

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hoegender · 5 months

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i need you guys to see the vision re99blr. i think a knight and dikke would be best friends. they'd have friendly sparring sessions and everything. might even sit down and talk about the meaning of life and the state of the justice system. i'm shaking you all by the shoulders

#they swap swords when they feel like being silly #might even tell each other jokes #dikke tending to knight's wounds (if he even gets injured) after battles AURGGHH #they're my most built and used arcanists so i see them in action all the time #and every battle i'm like clapping and going look at them go!!!#reverse 1999 #re99 #a knight #dikke #thihart

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pursuitseternal · 6 months

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“All Vim and Vigor, dearest…” a soft, nsfw Vampire Rogue Astarion update for “Bites in the Night:”

Astarion x F!Reader | E | 4K wound tending sex

Summary: the aftermath of a battle, and one companion is missing. Astarion. You race to find him, pulling him the the grip of death.. true death. Your tender, loving care can restore him. After all, you have to make sure all his vim and vigor is returned to him. Entirely.

CW: Blood, near death experience, healing, wound cleaning, flirtation, awkward Karlach interrupting growing intimacy, blow jobs and mutual hand jobs and fingering, just too be sure everything is… healed.

For @genesis-6666 💌

Read here if you prefer on AO3

Find him, save him…

✨✨✨✨✨✨✨✨✨✨

The dead lay around you. Goblins. An ambush. You bend over, hands on your knees, panting to catch your breath. Your wounds are minimal, and already Shadowheart has run to find the rest of your party, healing… or reviving… when needed. She looks up from over Gale’s body, his chest finally breathing again. But her eyes look worried. You scan the area, seeing everyone staggering between the trees. Almost all, you realize as your thumping heart stills. There is one of you missing. And your stomach twirls in knots as you realize just who.

You spin your head, looking. “Where is he?” you call to her. “Where’s Astarion?”

She shakes her head. “I thought he was with you, on the high ground,” she pants. “He was up there last I saw.” Her lithe hand points into the crags of rock and mountain that line the canyon.

It had been quick, sudden, and brutal. The ambush of Goblins swallowing you up. Last you remember, he had stared at you. Excitement, surprise, the thrill of bloodlust and eagerness in his eyes, as the goblin ranks kept coming and coming down from those ridges. One last fang-flashing smirk before he ran into the shadows, skirting up to their source. Your fearless, reckless, stupid rogue.

You hurry, scrambling up the trail, swerving past the thicker pools of goblin blood, leaping over their bodies. You see them scattered all over, dagger stab wounds and slashes.

Signs that he was here.

It’s carnage that you push past. Climbing higher until you reach a plateau, empty, the end of the trail, where you expect to see your vampire, your rogue, your… your love. But there is… nothing. Not a body. No enemies. No Astarion.

Panic fills you, heart rapping in your chest, breath growing short. But you force yourself forward. You make your eyes scan the ground for any clues. His blood. Or signs of his capture. You make your lungs fill, you shout his name…

Then, you hold your breath.

A faint groan comes from the distance, somewhere near the sheer rock face that pierces the sky, from the dense shrubs that line it. You race after it, feet almost skittering as you stumble in that direction. Your hands pushing into the brambles, catching sight of pale skin. Covered in blood.

You reach for his body. His skin is cold, waxy, and tight. You find one arm and pull. He groans as you tug, you grab his second arm, freeing him from the brambles, even as your lungs ease to see his face again.

But your hope fades to agony, his face is bruised and beaten, black and blue and shadowed more than his undead charisma. His breathing is quick and shallow, his eyes nearly swollen shut from whatever beating he took up here. You finally slide him free, his clothing is torn, almost every inch of the skin you see is darkened with bruises.

His voice shakes as he tries to catch a breath, eyes forcing themselves open to look at you. “You’re here,” he manages to rasp out. “I knew you would find me. You always find me.”

“Shhh,” you run your hand through his hair, his brow damp with sweat, his eyes losing focus as his head begins to loll. “It’s going to be alright.”

“At least I got to see you once more…” his voice grates against his throat, breath growing ragged.

You hand digs into your pocket, pulling out your last vial of healing potion. You pull the cork and press it instantly to his lips. The liquid flows into those pale lips, and you can only kneel and pray it’s enough. His breath begins to ease instead of rattle, his face beginning to heal, his pallor returning, the traces of blue-black death fading.

His mouth twitches trying to talk. But you shush him softly, “I’m here, Astarion, it’s alright.”

“F-far from,” he ekes out as his eyes flutter open slightly, the swelling abating just enough for you to see both crimson eyes again.

“I’ll get you back to the others,” you look around, sizing up his lean body, running a hand through his hair before you brace behind his shoulders to get him to sit upright. He groans, limp in your arm. He can be so strong and swift, but it’s only now you also notice how lithe he is. How lean. But still, he’s too great a weight for you to bear alone.

That’s when the running of heavier feet makes your lungs fill fully and your heart leap in hope. “You found him, good for you, soldier!” Karlach trods right up next to you, barely out of breath. “Shadowheart said you would hopefully have found him, I’m to help you back where we are making camp.” Her thick tiefling arms pick him up, none too gently, and you hiss in worry to see him pulled to his feet so quickly.

“I swear, if you throw me around like that, I would puke on you if I had anything left in me…” he snipes as Karlach takes him by one arm, shaking her fiery head at his sass with a smile and waiting for you to take the other.

You snigger. He must be on the mend if he is throwing those barbs out again. But he falls silent again, head hanging low. You shoulder his body as best you can, bracing one hand on his bare chest, wishing for once he had a living heart that beat so you knew he was alive. “Stay with me,” you grunt, shoving your mouth into his long, pointed ear. “I’ll kill you if you die, you know.”

“I know… my sweet,” he manages to rasp, a slight turn of his head to throw you a feeble smirk. Karlach is definitely bearing most of him, but she doesn’t complain, not as you finally make it down the ridges and back to the main road.

“Not too much further,” Karlach heaves more of him on her shoulder, “Gale should have the tents up by now so he can rest.”

You three round a bend, the flickering of a fire and the spattered sight of tents warms your heart. You made it. Even the rose and burgundy canvas of Astarion’s tent is set to perfection. You’ll have to remember to thank Gale later, once your rogue is through the worst of it.

Into the warm dark you go, setting Astarion out on his bedroll, propping him cautiously on a stack of pillows.

“Water, clothes, and another potion,” Karlach points to the supplies placed tidily within reach. “I’ll be back, just shout if you need anything.”

And then she steps away, taking her warmth and her glowing presence back through the flaps of his tent.

You look after her, another friend you’ll have to thank.

Something hard and cold grips around your hand from where it rests on the ground. He’s clutching you, making sure he’s not alone.

“I’ve got you,” you whisper, giving his hand a gentle squeeze before you rest it on his own stomach. “Let me get you cleaned up,” you look into his face, his eyes still shut, face still and unmoving. “Is that alright?”

“More than alright,” he speaks quietly, “the sooner you get rid of this stinking goblin blood off me, the sooner I can just savor that delicious fragrance of yours…” he hisses in pain before the last word is completely off his tongue. Your hand ghosts over the still-sprawling bruisers that run along his side. He tries so hard to be the usually suave, charismatic charmer, but something still troubles him.

Your hand hovers between the cloth and the potion, unsure what to do first. Then you hear it, a wracking cough, one that shakes his frame, bringing blood to his lips.

His blood.

You quickly uncork the second bottle, fairly shoving it in his mouth. “What did they do to you?” You barely get the question out your mouth as he sighs from swallowing the healing mix down.

“Thrashed me an inch from life… or an inch from undeath I suppose…” He forces a blithe smile, his giggle is slick with his own blood, but at least you can hear his lungs filling. More fully than before. The potion working to heal whatever internal damage he must have had.

You eye the red around his lips, pausing for a second. It was a common sight, his bloodied lips, but… never his own blood.

You wonder, for a moment, how does he taste?

You know the salt of his sweat, the bitter tang of his cum, why not? Why not see what his blood tastes of, for once…

“Gods below,” he throws you a mischievous smirk. “You’re wanting to taste my blood now, aren’t you?” You feel your surprise lifting your face, and he only sucks his teeth, shaking his head in feigned disbelief. “Tch, I don’t need a spell to read your dirty thoughts, darling…”

Your eyes dart to his conceited, smirking mouth. You hold your breath… until you close your hand around the towel and soak it in the soapy water. “Don’t be ridiculous, Astarion…” you huff, starting to bring the cloth to his face.

His hand grips the back of your neck, clutching you against his mouth for a wet and bloodied kiss. It tastes… ancient, refined and heady. Rich in a way that coats your tongue, even as his own delves in to tangle with yours. You swallow, sucking on his lips for more. He laughs, lightly, hiding a groan, “If you’re planning on more rigorous pursuits, I’d say I need bathing and tending first, darling.”

You pull away, shocked at yourself, so aroused with him only moments ago near-death. Your cheeks flush, white hot as you begin to clean him. He closes his eyes, propped up as he is on pillows. Lounging, relishing your full attention.

You wash and rinse, wash and rinse. It’s hard not to stare at his beauty, at the hard edges of his cheeks and jaw, the little lines about his eyes that crinkle when he smirks or laughs. He locks those piercing eyes on you as you dip the rag back and wring it out. He stalks every movement you make, washing his body lower and lower, inspecting his bruises as they slowly fade with the healing magic.

You finish his chest, forcing your breath to steady as you wash that rising and falling belly of his.

“Are you sure I don’t need tending any lower…?” he purrs.

You narrow your eyes at him. “Perhaps you rest first before you insist on everything checked for being in good working order, hmm?”

He rolls his eyes back in his head, a sigh of total emphatic drama. “Doctor’s orders…” he grumbles, lounging back against the throws, but not before he gives a little thrust of his hips, a clench of his belly under your hand where it rests on him still.

“Sleep, you scoundrel,” you chide, reaching to dry off his now clean skin, savoring the fresh scent in the air from the soap. You feel his body, still tense under your touch, wound tight and stiff that isn’t the result of his charming flirtation or dirty, lustful thoughts. You look at him, staring at his face, worry furrowing your brows. “What’s wrong?”

His eyes flicker over you, bright with mischief, half-lidded with flirtation. “Vampires don’t require… sleep. Not much. Not as much as… well… other things…”

You look into that beautiful face. He’s gaunt. Pale, well more than usual. Rings line his eyes, cradling that crimson glare in shadow. His lips twitch, fighting the urge to bare those glistening and pointed fangs.

“Oh, gods, now?” you breathe, heart racing.

He waves a hand dismissively, a sharp edge to his voice. Hungry. Annoyed. “Well, if you don’t want your strong, well-fed vampire to heal completely, then by all means…”

“No,” you almost leap next to his face, those smirking eyes scan over you, dilating in his hunger, fixating on the rapid pulse you know must be just throbbing under your skin for him to salivate over. But his hand grips yours, raising it to his lips. Kissing your fingers so softly, your stomach drops and your throat tightens. Slowly, he turns your hand over in his, raising your tingling inner wrist to his nose. You feel his breath, cold and quick, as he inhales your scent. Probably already savoring the scent of your blood rushing just beneath your skin.

“So then, I may?” his voice almost fails to reach your ears, you hear it more from the little tickles his breath makes across your skin, the gentle flutters of his lips over the nerves of your wrist. Like lighting in the air, his breath ripples in pinpricks on your skin.

“Yes,” you sigh, lungs burning as you hold your breath until he bites thos razor-sharp fangs into your tender flesh. Gasping, you hold your wrist to his mouth, every drop of your blood that leaves you, you can almost feel, almost sense, how it makes him stronger again. Empowered again. Hungry again for more.

It just feels so good, even as he feasts on you, as you savor that strange sensation that follows every time he feeds, that union of your bodies, your blood sating his hunger, beginning to course in his veins. A small, strangled moan escapes your lips, your eyes fixated on the way his mouth sucks on your wrist. You’ve never seen it before, never been able to watch his consuming of you, as he drinks from your neck. The little ways his tongue laps at your skin, the small bobbing of his Adam’s apple as he swallows you down. A different sort of pleasure denied you when he drinks in the middle of the night. Your stomach churns, your thighs burning hot as you can’t look away.

A slight, definitely insufferable smile tugs at the corner of his lip as he sets your wrist back in your lap. “Liked what you saw?” he preens, so proud as he dabs a single finger at the bloodied corner of his mouth. “Or just thankful I’m still here to have my fill of you?”

“Both,” you reply before even a second thought crosses you mind. Your sight lowers to his mouth, you can almost feel those lips on yours, the way the twitch ever so slightly, the little tweaks that lift them to show those pointed fangs you love to have catch your flesh and nip at you when he kisses….

So close, you feel him closing that distance, his breath rushing into you, filling your lungs, your soul, ice cold and tangible.

“Hope you like rabbit, Gale’s got stew nearly done for…” Karlach sticks her flaming, sparking scarlet head into your tent then she strides all the way in. Those glowing eyes go wide. You’re so close, even as you turn your head, you can hear Astarion’s laugh tickle the creases of your ear.

You go flush, and not just because he insists on still giving your cheek a lingering kiss.

“Feeling better, is he?” Karlach laughs, a bit forced. A bit uncomfortable.

“Clearly,” you huff, sliding slightly from his side. But he only leans all the closer.

His eyes rake over you. You can feel it. You can almost see it in the way Karlach sifts from foot to foot. He chuckles, low and slow, “Yes, all vim and vigor, dearest. We were just about to discuss how I was going to make it up to her for all that attentive care and healing I required to pull me back from the brink of death…”

Your eyes flicker to Karlach, who would be blushing beet red now if she weren’t already so scarlet. “Ahem,” she clears her voice and stands quickly, “that’ll be my cue. I’ll leave you two to it..:”

“No it’s okay… the stew...” you begin but she’s already gone and yelling on the other side of the tent.

“Oi, Gale, keep it warm…” a long pause follows, a deep voice muted in the distance. Then Karlach guffaws with gusto. “Yeah, they’ll be fucking for hours most likely… she might not even be hungry once he stuffs her again…” the tiefling’s boisterous laugh fades as she trods away.

Your face goes hotter than an inferno, but that only makes his cold fingers sear all the more as he caresses your cheek. A single finger lifts your chin, turning your face towards that rakish, sultry smirk. “I thought she’d never leave. Now,” he hovers his mouth right over yours, “where were we?”

“We…” you clear your throat, “we were just making sure you were healed…”

“Mmmm, I’m pretty sure you’ve inspected me thoroughly everywhere but one place, darling,” he rasps, catching your lips in a commanding, languorous kiss.

“You almost died, Astarion,” you hiss between his teeth, fighting the way your folds are burning up, the way his other hand begins to slink over the buckskin of your breeches. “Should you really risk so much exertion?” Your body is tensing, your mind remembering the way he rattled as he struggled for air on the mountain, the way his flesh was blackened and sickly. Dead, almost truely dead.

His chuckle, that low-throated giggle, pulls you out of those macabre imaginings. “Well, I'd be more than happy to simply lay back and let you do all the hard work, if that’s what your concern is…”

You give him a mocking smile, “Oh yes, I’m very certain you are only doing this for my sake, love. Making sure I feel good after pulling you back from near death to life… well to undeath…” You give a sheepish grin, relieved that your humor only adds to the mischievous glint in his crimson eyes.

“You know me, the image of selflessness. I’m doing you a favor. If you left now…” his smirk widened, deliciously, wickedly, “…you’d be thinking about it all night.” His hand weaves into the little hairs at the nape of your neck, twirling them in the way he knows drives you crazy.

“Well, I suppose I can be persuaded… just to make sure you’re all vim and vigor.” You laugh as his hand is already loosening the laces of his breeches. “But,” you place one of yours to stay him a moment. Gods, you can already feel his cock, hard and pushing his way out for pleasure. You swallow, making yourself look in his eyes. At how they swirl with his lust, glassy with his need. “But you tell me the moment it’s too much, you promise?”

“If you wanted me to just be more vocal during our couplings, you had only to ask, darling…” he purrs, forcing his fingers loose under your palm to continue unlacing.

You grab them in yours. “I mean it,” you insist, hard in tone, commanding in just three words.

“I promise, I’ll say when, my dear,” he laughs, finally freeing himself from the confines of his breeches. You look down at him, his devious pleasure of just watching you crawling between his thighs.

You give his cock a good, long lick from base to tip, his groan of approval sending shivers between your own thighs. But you force a dispassionate hum as you wrap your lips around his twitching head. “Seems in good working order,” you whisper.

“I think it needs a little more.. attentive care, darling…” he groans, very loudly as you wrap your mouth all the way around him, taking him in deeply over your tongue. You roll your eyes, unsurprised at how he gives a moan with each suck you make, each lap of your tongue running up his length.

More vocal indeed.

You bob up and down, your lover relaxing back against his pillows, fingers toying languorously through your hair. Your own hand pumps over the rest of him that just can’t fit inside your lips. He feels so good, so hard and strong and full of life. And he seems to be getting louder… his moans increasing. “So good for me, darling…” he starts to praise. “Always so attentive and eager… and…”

You pop off him, meeting that insufferable smirk and quirked brows. “You want them to know, don’t you?”

“Me? Wanting to draw some attention to our lustful pursuits?” He casts that look at you that makes every nerve in your body flame with unbridled desire for him. “I just want them to make sure you care of me is certainly thorough,” he grins, “I’m just so… thankful… it’s hard to keep it in. After all you do… so much for me, darling…”

“Be a dear and shut up,” you purr, giving one more swirl around that ridge of his tip.

“Make me,” he growls, flashing that roguish smirk down at you, licking his lips.

You pounce, flooded with relief that he is alive... that he’s filled with all that vim and vigor and irascible, irritating sass. You’re brimming with the need to feel him, for all his taunting and flirtation, all his lust and passion, you’re just… happy he is here. To kiss, to fuck, to banter with. And you do make him shut up, your lips on his, your teeth sinking playfully into his lower lip, sucking it with a tug. You keep one hand on his cock, riding it, pumping it, keeping time with the way his tongue darts in and out of your mouth. Something cold slips under your shirt, his fingers skating into the band of your breeches.

You keep your mouth fixed on his, making certain he’s far too busy for any noises you can’t muffle. But as his fingers slip between your thighs, an unbidden cry rips from your throat.

“Who’s the loud mouth now?” He chides, sucking his teeth at you, even with your lips coupled as they are. He laughs again, his fingers catching on your clit just right as he rides up and down your seam. “Don’t cease your own task at hand on my account,” he sniggers, his cold fingers lacing around his shaft, interweaving with yours.

His breath sucks in yours. His fingers playing in you, teasing so much wetness from your folds, you wish you had just taken your pants off when you had the chance. Now it was too late. Now, you’d be sticky from your own arousal, probably covered in his cum too as you leave his tent.

The thought makes your cheeks burn but not in shame. In a searing wave of desire. Your hand works up and down, catching that thick, blunt tip with your thumb in the way that makes him groan. His kisses deepen, hungry and feral, the same he’s stoked in you with the little ways his fangs catch on the inside of your lips. He’s losing that refined control he keeps. Pushed past the calculating movements as you stroke him in your fist and lick his tongue with your own.

“Gods,” he growls, his cock so hard, his fingers inside you working at a fevered pace. “You’ll come for me too, darling. My recompense for your care.”

“Yes,” you moan, his fingers diving deep into your cunt, crooking on that sweet spot he knows well.

You clench, shaking as he pummels inside you, your own hand struggling to work on his cock with how hard he is. How thick he is. But the instant you drench his fingers and fill his palm as you climax, he follows you into that messy, groaning bliss. Hot cum drips down your arm, spattered on your sleeve, on the belly of your shirt.

He’s gasping into your mouth, his lips pulled back wide in a genuine smile. His forehead presses against yours as he catches his breath, stealing your own from your lips. “Well,” he pants, “am I fully recovered?”

“All vim… and vigor…” you heave, moaning as he slips his fingers from your thighs.

“Hmm,” he hums against your lips, trapping them in his own with a slight nip. “Are you sure you’re satisfied with my performance?”

You laugh, giving a little shove against his chest. “For now,” you tease, “but it seems another round of cleaning is in order.” Your hand reaches for the rag, wiping his juices from your hand, your arm. Only to hear him sucking on his own fingers.

His brow arched wryly as you turn to watch. Those two long fingers that still drip with your cum are shoved far back in his mouth, his tongue swirling over every inch. “What?” he smirks, “why waste something so delicious…”

You shake your head, lovingly irritated at his cheekiness, but already your body is already aching for more. “Perhaps,” you clear your throat, heart pounding as you watch him sliding those already drenched fingers over his tongue. “Perhaps you do need a little more inspection, just to be sure…”

“Thought so,” he sniffs, that insufferable smirk widening to show his teeth. “Best be sure… just in case…”

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