#Gale: did you just punch me again

[tarastabz]

Tara tries to get out of every situation by saying "i'm just a little guy"

[undiscovered-horizon]

(tw for self-harm -> literally hitting a tree with a bare fist)

[Tav has to carry the world on their shoulders. But when they begin to question this responsibility and the unfairness of it, they need someone to make sure their grief doesn't destroy them.]

Enjoying my work? You can leave me a tip on Ko-Fi | Have a request?

Astarion knows that something is very off when you drop your bag and disappear behind the tree line, never even acknowledging his existence. The certain skip in your step, a bravado of "There's no mountain I can't move" is completely gone, nowhere to be seen. Now, something more sinister has taken its place - a darkness looming over your shoulder that makes even him shudder. Like you've switched places with another creature.

He notices Shadowheart and Gale watching your departure, both of them fidgeting in their stillness. Their hesitancy is all too obvious. Then, they exchange a look of both concern and inquiry. In awkward silence, Gale and Shadowheart part ways, simultaneously deciding to let you have your space.

Be it his curiosity or worry for you that he so vehemently denies, Astarion marches off in the direction he has seen you go, only to disappear behind the trees. He passes by Gale, who grabs Astarion's arm. The bruises on the wizard's face look almost black in the twilight of the campsite.

"I wouldn't do that, Tav is a little..." he hangs his voice as his eyes glance towards the dense forest, "beside themself."

The vampire wears his scowl like a crown. He yanks his arm from Gale's grasp and makes a show of straightening the fabric of his decorative shirt. "Wonderful advice. Now, if you'll excuse me, I'm going to happily ignore it."

Without awaiting a rebuttal, Astarion continues his march towards the dense, dark forest where he hopes to find you.

The warm, yellow hue of the campfire quickly disappears as the man ventures into the woods. Low shrubbery keeps nipping at his clothes, almost making him more worried about the state of his pants than your well-being. He is about to call out your name when he hears a loud, muffled thud.

What in Hells is that?

Following the sound, Astarion finally finds you - beaten, bruised. Your clothes look like you haven't washed them since crawling out of the Nautiloid. The blood covering your knuckles glistens in the moonlight as you take another swing at the tree trunk. Another thud resounds in the empty forest. A dent behind to show in the wood where the bark has already been broken off. Just how long have been doing this? More importantly: why are you doing this to yourself?

No matter his confusion and burning worry, Astarion manages to pull himself together. He knows that the last thing you need right now is him blowing up at you, masking his fear for your state of mind with irritation.

"And what did this poor tree ever do to you, darling?" he finally calls out in a light-hearted tone. Truthfully, he couldn't be farther from playful jokes and jabs.

"Just leave me alone," you answer in a harsh tone as you punch the tree trunk once more. A whine escapes your lips as your tender, wounded hand meets the hard wood again.

He's taken aback - you don't normally talk this way. This unforeseen and much unwelcome, sudden change makes him all the more concerned.

Astarion stops close behind you, his arms crossed across his chest. He's unsure what to do. "Not until you tell me what's gotten into you," he states in a firm tone.

You growl in response. "It's so," you hang your voice to hit the tree, "fucking" you punch the trunk again, "unfair!" you scream out.

Your bloodied, trembling hand is about to land another punch but something, someone, stops you. Astarion lunges forward, pressing his chest against your back and grabbing your arms. His firm grasp forces you to keep your hands close to your body.

"Why do I have to decide who lives or dies?!" you continue yelling as you try to ineffectively wiggle out of the man's iron grasp. "I never wanted to be the hero who saves the world! I never asked for any of this!" Suddenly, your defiance disappears. Tired, hopeless and sore, you let yourself lean against his chest. "So why does it have to be me?" you whisper in a weak voice. Then you shudder as tears begin flowing down your cheeks.

The great hero falls and it is only natural that their fall must be of equal grandeur.

Astarion feels your hands shake but he's not sure whether it's because you've scraped their skin down to raw muscle or because you're crying out all the pent-up anger, grief and anxiety. No matter what's the truth, his undead heart breaks all the same.

"My sweet, sweet love," he whispers into your ear. His cold lips brush against the conch before he softly pecks your neck. "Anyone else would do it wrong."

Part of him wants to add 'except for me, of course' but he knows, deep down in his viscera, that even he would falter. So he remains quiet until your sobbing silences and your trembling comes to a stop. Astarion's grip never eases down until you've collected yourself, holding you tight against him as though you're fine porcelain that even a mere gust of wind could shatter into pieces.

__ Guys when I tell you I almost tripped running to my laptop to write this

[whathebeep]

Okay so like the perma death of Tav and how it would affect the party-

Just cause my Tav died during the end boss and it got me thinking (SPOILERS FOR SURE) (definitely romance centric around poly Tav/Astarion/Halsin)

The party definitely doesn't fully comprehend it at first. Oh it's fine, Shadowheart has revivify- no? It won't work? Right okay we have the scrolls- oh. Okay well we can bring them back to Withers- what do you mean you can't?

That's it. That's the end, and Tav is dead and gone, cold to the touch.

Astarion is in shock. He doesn't believe it, won't believe it- he gets angry at Withers. Yells and screams until his voice his hoarse and angry hot tears are running down his face until he drops to his knees and sobs. Tav's body is on a bed or a stone slab, and he just kneels and cries next to Tav. Squeezes their hand, begs, pleads with them for you to come back. Don't take them, take me- let them live, let them stay, I can't do this without them. Halsin stays with him, by your side, the two comforting each other through their tears and the loss of their love. He cries until he's weak and tired and can't bring himself to move- Halsin feeds him and brings him to bed. He cries at the smell of you on his pillow; you were his sun and now you were gone.

Gale is quiet. Gale comforts the others, makes sure everyone else's needs are being met. He makes Tav's favourite meal that night for everyone at camp- probably something like a nice hearty stew with potatoes and beef. After he's sure everyone else is fed and has drank water/blood, he returns to his tent to eat alone. He closes his tent and quietly cries. He doesn't eat.

Wyll? Wyll carries Tav back to camp- perhaps with the help of Lae'zel. He feels how cold your skin is, and he does his best to hold it together. He sees how deep your wounds are, how blue your lips are. He's unsure if you died before you hit the water, or if you succumbed to your injuries before Halsin pulled you out- but he feels the weight in his chest. You were a hero. Baldur's Gate deserved the privilege to know your face, to hear your laughter. You would've been knighted, you would be a hero to the people. They couldn't of done it without you, and now you were gone. He knew it before they even reached Withers. Wyll didn't sleep that night, rather staying up and tending to the fire.

Shadowheart knew it too. When she tries to revivify Tav and there was nothing, she knew there was no hope. She lingered when the party started back to camp with your body. Shadowheart made her way back to the now empty house of grief and picks night orchids. She takes her time coming back. Camp is quiet when she returns. She feels the familiar wisps of sorrow grasping at the edge of her mind- she is reminded of Shar, and the urge to forget. She won't go back- both for herself and for you. She brings you the night orchids and leaves them in your hands.

Halsin pulled you from the water. He was the first to realize you hadn't surfaced and swam down for you. Minsc realized quickly too and helped him bring you back to shore. Upon the return to camp and the cold hard truth from Withers, he's hurting. His heart hurts. Halsin falls into old habits, hard. He comforts Astarion first and foremost, putting his needs second. He did this at the grove, too. He realizes this and finally breaks, crying as he holds Astarion, the two at your bedside. He lets them fall, he hugs Astarion close, he prays to Silvanus- not to bring you back- he of course knows you are gone. He prays to Silvanus to meet you someday again, be it in the afterlife or if your soul comes back to this plane as something else. When Astarion is too weak to move and needs to go to his bed, Halsin carries him back to his tent. He holds Astarion as Astarion feeds on him, before laying him down to sleep. He leaves, returning with wildflowers to weave into your hair, before returning to bed with Astarion.

Karlach rages. She's violent for hours on end- punching trees, her upgraded engine burning so hot that her tears sizzle if they fall on her skin. She spent 10 years in the hells, 10 goddamn years with absolutely no one- you were the first person to give her a chance. You were her friend. You stood up for her time and time again, you saved her from needing to go back- and now you're gone. She punches a tree and scratches at it and yells angry things in infernal. Her rage only simmers when Scratch and your owlbear cub come to her- she collapsed against the tree and holds them both, crying as her engine starts to cool.

Lae'zel is quiet. She helps Wyll carry you back- she might not be the best at reading emotions, at telling what is happening- but she's seen death before. She realized you were gone when Minsc and Halsin pulled you out. You were a hero- you saved her people, you saved her prince, you saved /her/. And now you were gone. She wonders if you felt as scared as she was, when the tadpole was the greatest threat to them back on the Nautiloid. She knows she didn't say it, but she considered you a true friend. She comes to you later in the night to lay your weapon in your hands. She notices the orchids, and leaves them within your hands as well before going to sit at the fire with Wyll. She's quiet.

Minsc? Minsc is optimistic. He's not stupid- he holds out hope you'll be fine, reassuring the others while they walk back to camp. Surely you were fine, Withers would make sure of it! But when Withers tells everyone the truth, Minsc isn't angry. He feels the sadness, Boo does too- they go to the shore and sit to stare at the water. Minsc has been around for awhile- he knows the finality of death. He, in a way, knows Tav will be okay. That you will return as a bird or a baby or maybe you won't, and you'll await them all in the final death- and he and Boo mourn you.

Jaheira is the one to arrange the coffin for Tav. She's familiar with the process- she's done it many times before for Harpers. She's gone all night getting an oak coffin for your burial, and returns with a few men in the early hours of the next morning. They move Tav into the coffin, careful not to disturb the weapon you held and the numerous flowers. Jaheira sheds tears for you- she brings you medicine, laying the plants in your casket around your head. Lilacs and lavender, cedar and sage cradle Tav's head in the coffin. She thanks you for the lives you saved, the ones you've avenged- for doing what you could.

When the funeral happens, the cathedral is full. When the dust settled and word of your deeds, of your battle, of your sacrifice spread across the city, hundreds come to mourn Tav. Tav the great, Tav the hero, Tav the brainslayer. Tav is knighted before the burial, and is buried in a cemetery in the upper city amongst other heroes of Baldur's Gate. Church bells ring, and taverns are filled with people drinking and singing in Tav's honour. Bards have somehow already come up with songs of Tav and the group- and truly, while the party will remain together, their hearts bleed for the leader they lost.

[chaoticbardlady99]

Nobody's Fool Part 3 (Astarion x GN! Reader)

Synopsis: Astarion reflects on his plan and progress thus far. You and Karlach accidentally eat the wrong kind of mushrooms.

Content Warning: Dead Dove (Astarion), accidental drug use (btw, Mushrooms had a very emotional effect on me so that is my current frame of reference)

Part 2 : Part 4 : Master list

 Here’s the thing. 

  Astarion and Shadowheart had sex, but there was absolutely no chemistry between them. It was awkward in a weird way and they both just kinda ended up… lying there. They blamed it on the alcohol initially, but his brain wandered to you that night and how stupid he was to veer from his initial plan. Shadowheart had no loyalty to him, but you followed him around like an adorable pup.

 You are way too good and of course you would give him another chance. Certainly you can still go “walk along the beach” or whatever the hells you had asked. Astarion would give you a night you would never forget and you would forget about his rejection entirely.

 He figured he would use your little crush to get what he wanted- insured safety. Astarion would provide you with good sex and honeyed words for the duration of the journey and it would all be “peaches and crème” as Gale has said in the recent past. 

  Shadowheart and Astarion agreed that they could not attempt that with each other again and agreed to become temporary allies. She keeps Karlach away from you so Astarion can get back in your good graces and Shadowheart can eventually get into Karlach‘s bedroll. Only, how would he convince you that he actually cares for you when he still didn’t at all?

 Shadowheart obviously didn’t know he didn’t care, but he was a convincing enough liar that the queen of “deception” didn’t even notice his emotional fib. 

 So their next solution was to tell a big, fat white lie. 

 “He said their name during sex!” Shadowheart scoffed as Astarion eavesdropped nearby, “I am broken up about it- devastated.” 

 And how well did that fucking go?

 Piss. Fucking. Poor.

 Astarion and Shadowheart found themselves at a loss. You were still exceptionally distant and wouldn’t engage in a conversation at all and Karlach was too busy spending time with you. Fort Tavlach was becoming a very big annoyance to both of them. 

 So they proceeded to do what they had wanted you both to do. Shadowheart has had a bit easier of a time considering Karlach is more forgiving, outgoing, and confident. However, Astarion is unsure of where he stands with you. 

 At first it made him panic because he had had a plan. Astarion needs you on his side for safety reasons. 

 Why couldn’t you be like everyone else and just… not respect him? This is not how this is supposed to work. You are supposed to ignore his boundaries- insist he be with you. 

 Suddenly, he found himself beginning to genuinely miss your company at night. He wished he had invested a bit more time in your conversations together and the less he got to know you the more he wanted to know. 

 There were snippets here and there- any piece of information anyone seemed to have or whatever you were willing to give him. 

 He pushed the unwelcome warm thoughts away and refocused on his plan. Astarion knows he is going to have to really really work to get back in your good graces so he bought that damn necklace at full price (definitely not because he was actually concerned because that would be nonsense and this is all part of his very well thought out plan). 

 You looked so happy and he became caught up in the conversation with you. You were being less guarded like you had before. Astarion became very aware of how beautiful your eyes are and how expressive they are. Hells, he really noticed how beautiful you are and it hit him like you did the night before when he scared you. He honestly didn’t think you were capable of punching anyone in the stomach that hard and you felt so bad, but he was mostly turned on. Exceptionally impressed too. 

 Your laughter washed over him in waves and he truly felt calm for the first time in the last 200 years. He is safe with you without having to give you every piece of him right away. You have never wavered in your loyalty and support to him- merely just drew back to respect his space and to try to move on. 

 Astarion began hanging out with you every chance he could find- continuously convincing himself that this is all a part of his grand masterfully crafted  

 His trance had gripped him and he felt like he was back in Cazador’s palace. It was the night his scars were carved into his back. Astarion could still feel every single moment of Cazador branding him. 

 He was so grateful you let him spend time with you and that you didn’t kick him out. Astarion listened to your pulse the entire night until he was lulled into a trance- a much more peaceful and happy one. It had been one of the first days you were all traveling together and you fought all those disgusting Gnolls together. 

 You were so beautiful that day- covered in blood and adrenaline in your eyes. You were so protective of all of them and you had checked on each of them a million times. He only woke up again because the end of that memory was you passing out from a wound you hadn’t realized you had. It jolted him awake.

 He has spent every night since in your tent- he is too afraid to bring you to his because it’s not the cleanest and it feels like his very private space. Astarion wants to wait for whatever reason. 

 You have never pestered, asked, or forced your way in while he has pushed himself upon you. Astarion had tried to stay in his tent one night after a hunt and he ended up in your tent anyway. 

 You had been too warm and struggling to sleep. He quickly amended that issue. He hasn’t stayed away since. 

 Except for right now while you are busy. Astarion is trying to read this stupid, probably evil, powerful book and it won’t let him. 

  The thoughts are insane and wild- the spells on the pages and the dark magic calls out to him like a harpy’s song. One of the spells rings louder than the others- playing on his jealousy and new found relationships with promises of a powerful new spell that will dampen his hunger.

 He would if it wouldn’t upset you so much and this book is very convincing. It’s terrible, but he does not want to upset you. He rather likes being by your side lately and most importantly- he has a plan to tend to. 

“No… I won’t kill them!”

 Astarion pauses for a moment- the book coaxing a name out of him anyway.

“Well, maybe Wyll.”

 He has felt bitter towards the Warlock since you walked back into camp with him and then when you began talking to Wyll more than Astarion.

 No- it was not fair. He fucked up.

 It didn’t make him any less bitter though.

“Well if I have a say,” your melodic voice flows through his ears, “could you kill someone, I don’t know, maybe a little less useful?”

 Astarion slams the Necromancy of Thay with a start. He wasn’t expecting you to be back for a while- you had been talking to Wyll after you washed off and Astarion had opened a book about Necromancy to take his mind off of what it would be like to join you- A. At the river and B. Interjecting himself into the conversation. 

 It’s probably a good thing you came over when you did, but now his jealousy has decided to rear it’s ugly head. 

“How useful can he be when he won’t seem to stop talking to you every chance he gets?” He scowls, “hardly the quality of work I would expect from the mighty ‘Blade of Frontiers’!”

“A-“

“You know,” he interrupts, far too heated to notice your confused expression, “Wyll’s the sort of prince type I would have once dreamed of marrying. When I was about thirteen.”

 He realizes his tone is sharp and angry. Astarion also realizes this may not be fair, but his impulsivity seems to be outweighing better judgment. 

He crosses his arm, trying to avoid eye contact without making it too obvious (he actually manages to succeed somehow by staring just past your face).

“So will you be dedicating yourself entirely then to your new, true love? Should I be returning to my tent to-“

“Will you shut your blood hole for a minute and let me speak?” 

 Astarion is snapped back to reality and your eyebrows are furrowed- face screwed up as you search his features and he feels exceptionally vulnerable. Are you deciding if he is even worth spending time with? Maybe you are regretting letting him get close to you again.

 The idea makes his stomach turn. He really screwed up this time. Now he’s going to have to watch you with Wyll and probably hear the act of him ‘burying his blade’.

 Your features have softened significantly- whatever you found in Astarion’s features had been what you needed apparently. Again, he feels naked, vulnerable.

 Like being chained and forced to let Cazador carve into his back. Only, he doesn’t know what his punishment will be for speaking out of turn this time.

 Nothing, he thinks, because they would never do that to me. 

“Where is this coming from?” You ask slowly, “Wyll and I have always talked and it’s never bothered you before.”

 Astarion feels… frozen. He can’t tell you why it bothers him now. Well, he could and it would go along exceptionally well with his plan to reel you back in, but that would be crossing the threshold into reality. The feelings would be too real for that kind of connection and it could be what leaves him open to be blindsided or seriously hurt. 

 “I-I suppose I am just making sure I sleep in the right place tonight,” he chuckles awkwardly, “I would hate to stumble across you and Wyll ‘burying his blade’ if you catch my meaning.

“And I do mean sex, to be clear.” 

 You sigh heavily with a chuckle and an adorable roll of your eyes. He knows you can see right through him. You are exceptionally good at that and he doesn’t care for it a whole lot. 

 To his own surprise, you hug him and it’s probably the most gentle touch he has ever received from another in the last 200 years. 

 At first he is reluctant, but when you go to pull away, he unfreezes and returns it. 

 You smell like fresh laundry and a lovely spring evening. It feels right to have you this close to him and in such an intimate capacity. Astarion has to really keep himself from whining like a child when you pull away and begin your journey to your tent for the night.

 “I can assure you that if anyone is going to share my tent with me, I would choose you over everyone everywhere, anytime,” you say promptly, turning around and calling over your shoulder, “so if you are feeling up to it, you are welcome to join me in my tent for our usual chatting sessions and a cuddle. Otherwise, I will be sleeping alone.” 

 And there you go- leaving him absolutely speechless in your wake. You are much much sassier and sure of yourself than he remembers to give you credit for sometimes. He is trying to ignore the giddiness that lights up his nervous system at your words. 

 He used to thrive off of you being his little pup- following him around and waiting for his direction. Now he’s the hopeless fool in the situation and is quickly on your heels- following you to your tent. 

 You turn and seem surprised that he is there before you flash one of your brilliant smiles. 

 Speechless- you leave him speechless. Astarion wants to kiss you and he wants to ask.

 Yet, he can’t get himself to. He doesn’t want your companionship to turn into a sexual connection just yet- maybe before, but he actually has come to really enjoy your company. In spite of his better judgment and his plan, he does not want to jeopardize every last bit of hard work he put into fixing your relationship. 

 So instead you both sit and talk. Astarion finds himself asking you more questions than he had previously and he is filled with thousands of them. 

“I am excited to get out of the Underdark,” you yawn and stretch, “I miss the sun and the moon. Oh and not accidentally walking into some kind of spore that makes me laugh until I wish to keel over and die.” 

 Astarion grimaces in agreement. He had been the unfortunate victim of those stupid things today and he is very lucky he doesn’t need air. You were very very worried, but he gestured for you to stay back- the last thing anyone needed was for you to pass out. None of them would be organized without you and they would probably all fight over who gets to bring you back or who leads everyone back home. It sounded like too much effort and mental exhaustion for his liking. 

 “I really don’t care for it down here,” he sighs, “I want to enjoy my time in the sun for as long as I can and the lack of Minotaurs is a bonus.”

 You shudder, “those things are absolutely terrifying. I am glad we have been able to avoid them for the most part, but I don’t want to have to fight them head on.” 

 “Don’t worry, Darling, I am sure you can outwit them anyday. They are lucky they have been able to avoid you if I am being entirely honest.”

 Your grin is wonderful and you blush. Astarion can hear your heart kickstart and you are definitely smitten with him. His plan is working- he should be thrilled. He should make his move. 

 You may have become more important to him than a stupid plan and he isn’t happy about it (maybe he is a little). 

 You fall asleep shortly- your head is on his chest and his hand plays aimlessly with your hair. Astarion has noticed that this act helps you fall asleep and it also seems to help lull him into a trance too. 

  Sometimes memories blend together in a negative way. Other times, his trances, like his current one, is imagery of you both destroying Cazador and traveling together in the aftermath. 

 These trances may be his favorite guilty pleasure. Both of you are safe, happy, and definitely enamored with one another for eternity. 

**************************************************************

  You and Karlach keep staring at each other from across the fire, but it’s because you both made a truly terrible mistake. 

 You had both been searching for something to use for kindling and you were both giddily talking about your respective crushes. You have both considered that they may be using you to make each other jealous, but the more they compare notes, the less and less it appears to be the case. 

 It was supposed to be a harmless snack- Karlach insisted that the mushrooms were the “safe and non- magic” kind and that they were ‘delicious’.

 You both feel positively fucking insane. You barely made it back to camp and even then, Astarion walked up to you, said something, and you could only focus on how he kept changing color. Oh and he was speaking in a language you are certain isn’t real either. 

 You feel like you are underwater but your mind could not be more clear. Your eyes hurt from how bright everything is, but you feel like you are finally seeing the world. 

 This really, really needs to end soon. 

“What is with you two?!” Gale asks in exasperation, “it is not dinner time yet! Quit trying to bully me into feeding you. You lot are worse than Tara!”

 However- it sounds like botched common and neither one of you can understand a word he is saying. 

 The silly magic man says silly silly words.

 You giggle like a mad man at Karlach’s telepathic message. She begins to giggle too and Gale’s worry comes off of him in great waves.

 Literally- you are watching it ripple from his body.

 Gale says something again and you both begin laughing harder.

“Silly- silly magic man says silly words,” Karlach wipes away her tears, “what is his name again?”

 What… is his name again? It’s something silly right? 

 “GALE!” You scream, “LIKE THE WIND A MIGHTY EAGLE SOARS ON!”

 You gasp, looking at Gale before looking to Karlach, “HIS NAME IS ALSO A SPELL AND HE IS A WIZARD!!!!!” 

 You and Karlach are crying with laughter 

 You don’t remember standing on the log nor do you remember falling, but you feel Astarion’s delicate fingers on your hips and you bite your bottom lip so hard it bleeds. 

 His touch feels electric. You feel like you are really physically melting.

“Darling?” 

 Swimming, swimming, swimming, and yet he is clear as day. You blink up at him adoringly- awaiting his next words with a baited breath. 

Your mushroom addled mind is certain he is looking at you with equal amounts of adoration, but also a lot of concern. 

 Other people join and eventually you are being dragged to your tent- both you and Karlach screaming your “SEE YA LATER!”s as Shadowheart drags her off. 

 You lazily allow Astarion to guide you to your tent and when you collapse onto your bed roll- he quickly follows. You lay on your back and stare at the ceiling- lost in your silly little thoughts while he is looking at you like you have lost your mind. 

 You want to tell him what you are thinking, but instead, you become sad. Astarion is so beautiful in all the ways and you really wish he felt the way you feel about him. You would take him seashell hunting on every beach that exists. He would never know how it felt to be used or disrespected again and you would willingly be with him. In spite of all the baggage and emotional trauma- the things that “scared Shadowheart off” according to Karlach, you would choose him every time. 

 Technically, you already do. You may not be who he wants and one day you will watch him walk away from you forever, but at least he will know how he should be treated. 

 It doesn’t prevent your wistful and hopeless thinking any less. Your chest feels heavy and you feel burdened with your emotions. They hurt.

 You could fall asleep together every night and share goodnight kisses if you were together. You could talk while being entangled in each other’s embrace, bath together because you really love the idea of spoiling him in that way. 

 Hells, you could even envision yourself having sex with him (and you have envisioned it, but you ignore that). 

 You desire to connect with him on every level, but he will never want that with you and it becomes very hard for you to breathe or speak all of a sudden. 

“Darling?” His voice is soft, comforting, and heartbreaking in the same breath, “what’s wrong?” 

 You look back up at the ceiling and just imagine Selune reminding you that there will be others- trying to think of literally anything else. What happened to your happy mood? Why are you having emotional whiplash? 

 Cool fingers wipe away your tears and a whimper leaves your lips before you begin to cry even harder. 

 Why doesn’t he love you? Why can’t the one person you have fallen in love with love you back? It’s not his fault, but Gods it’s not fair that you will watch him be with other people for as long as you live and doomed to die without him, always wishing you could have at least walked on that damn beach together. At least then you would have that memory to hang on to. 

  You feel him hold you- the electricity rippling through you and you can hear him trying to ask you what is wrong. 

 Your head is spinning- you are so confused and emotionally not feeling well, but now you are beginning to feel better. Co-regulation or something like that. It’s common practice in Selunite Culture- it’s meant to help their youngest members get through uncomfortable emotions. You always loved the concept, but you never experienced it yourself until that one night with Wyll. You never anticipated Astarion being here for you like this. 

  His fingers running through your hair pulls you out of your despair and into a happier mood. Your tears begin to fade to mere sniffles and you swear you feel a soft pair of lips press a kiss to your forehead.

 “That’s it, Darling. Come back to me and out of your spiraling.” 

 You giggle, “spiralinggggggg is my specialty. Have you ever tried to watch Shadowheart read a map? No wonder she got kidnapped. If she had to keep me from spiralingggg I fear I would be lost forever.”

 Astarion pauses for a second out of shock alone before he begins to laugh along with you. The sound makes your heart feel so full. How wonderful it is to make someone else happy after they have been so miserable for so long. 

“I am guessing the ‘magic’ of the Underdark has consumed your mind?” 

 You nod enthusiastically and with a big yawn- your sadness was excruciatingly intense. You feel like you could nap for an eternity. 

 “Karlach thought they were the yummy kind, not the funny kind.” 

 He snorts and you swear you feel another kiss being placed on the side of your temple. You hum happily and curl up against him when he lays you both down. 

“I think this is my favorite place to be,” you say absentmindedly, no longer in a state of mind to be aware of your words.

“Your tent?” His voice is laced with confusion. 

 You laugh, in spite of yourself, “no! Laying here with you, silly.” 

 The quietness in the tent would bother you if you weren’t in la la land. 

“I- I think this may be my favorite place to be too.”

“In my tent?” You mimic.

 You can feel him roll his eyes, “very funny, Darling.

“I meant… laying here with you.” 

 Astarion’s voice is so coy and quiet. You prop yourself up and peer at his face. He looks conflicted and unsure about something. 

“What is it? Did I say something wrong?”

“Not at all,” he says with a smile, “in fact, you say all the right things the majority of the time.”

“Why thank you!” You beam, “I may not be a very wise cleric, but I am certainly a charismatic one!” 

“Hmm I would argue against your statement, but you are currently experiencing magic mushrooms and aren’t clerics supposed to know things like that?”

“I am good at the magic piece,” you grumble, “not so much the herbology shit or whatever. Too much to remember and now my HEAD HURTS TRYING TO REMEMBER!”

 Astarion laughs and shakes his head- you are far goofier than anyone else he has ever met and of course you would say that about herbology. You look like you want to commit a war crime anytime Gale begins talking about Alchemy. 

 “I am so sorry that I have caused you so much distress, Darling,” he says dramatically, “whatever can I do to make it up to you?”

 Your brain hits serious mode and you look at him with the most serious expression you can think of.

“Write to me sometimes when this journey ends?” Your voice strains, “don’t forget about me? Please? Or at least don’t forget about me until I’m long gone in the physical sense?”

 You chuckle awkwardly, but your tears betray you. Astarion is quick to wipe away your tears and he grabs your hand on his chest- kissing your knuckle.

“My Dear,” he says softly, “I have no intentions of forgetting about you and well, the details of after our little adventure can be discussed when you are a bit more clear minded. I don’t want you to suggest we go and ‘explore’ the Cloakwood or something insane like that.”

  You understand what he is saying, but you also don’t so you just grin and scoff.

“I would not say we should travel to the- okay, wait. That may actually be a good idea because all of the people getting trapped there by fey-“

 Astarion interrupts you with a finger on your lips and an unamused expression that makes you giggle.

“You are an insufferable hero and while I adore you for it- I must save you from yourself. No visiting the Cloakwoods.”

“Fineeeeeeeeeeeeee,” you lay your head back against his chest, smiling and the urge to sleep filling your body, “I will win eventually.”

 He snorts in response.

“We will see about that, Darling.”

Tag list: @preciouslittlebhaalbae @xxgrimripp3rxx @alice4wonderland2812 @therobishow @m1ster1e @tragicdruid @katsutoria @aristenfromwarsaw @avabjorna36 @frankie-mercury @golden-baby

[iamthemain-character]

Dirty Mind

astarion x fem!reader

CW: Depictions of mental illness, body dysmorphia, self loathing, descriptions of anatomy, nudity without sex, hints at a past of self harm. Please read with caution.

A/N: This fic is dedicated to the most incredible woman I know. Here's to you--and all of you--finding your healing. <3

bg3 masterlist

You knew you were being stupid. 

You had seen villages that suffered under oppressive rule, slain monsters that had shed the blood of countless innocents, fought off gods and demons alike to remain true to yourself. You had seen so much evil, felt it’s burden on your heart, and yet, your greatest battle was waged within yourself. 

It was no dark possession, no cruel and unjust leader that opposed you so vehemently; rather, it was your very own skin you existed within. Or perhaps it was rather your mind, turning within itself to destroy you from the inside. You detested the very body that gave you life, that had carried you through every day of your life. And yet you hated it with a darkness that could put the very nine hells to shame. 

The silvery reflection you gazed upon only furthered your displeasure, the light seeming to glint off the various imperfections that built up the frame you no longer recognized. Your chest, uneven to your scrutinizing eyes, was so lacking that it was a mockery to call them breasts. Where your largeness did come in was from your stomach, as soft and pliable as a baker’s dough, and yet it was considerably less useful. It was duplicated on your thighs, the circumference making you frown the longer you stared. You felt all together uneven, as if some potter had started shaping his clay and had left you out to dry, half finished and altogether defective as a human being. 

It didn’t help that you were covered in marks; your skin looking more like a mis pieced quilt to your eyes than the body of a woman. Scars from various battles stitched the fabric of your flesh, showing off your failures in battle. Worse, however, were the scars from the battle within yourself, where you failed to protect your own skin from your gleaming blade. The shame that each of those marks carried made your body burn coldly, unremorseful yet full of regret. 

You weren’t even sure what your lover saw in you on the rare nights you let him have you wholly. In the occasions where you did not shun the light or keep yourself partially dressed, you let your mind be overpowered by the sensations of his own body,  perfect and glorious as it made love to you in the way only he could. You would forget yourself for a while, until the darkness creeped back in and dragged you from the safety of his arms. Somehow you always came to the conclusion that he must have hated you more than he loved you, and that physicality was a poor excuse for the burden you were upon his life. 

You wanted to punch the mirror where it stood proudly in front of you, mocking your very existence, your futile attempt at being somebody. You envied your lover, cursed to never see the art of his features ever again. It was an undeserving curse, one you wished would be placed upon yourself rather than the beautiful elf. Yet you would not be free from your aesthetic burden until your traitorous eyes were plucked from their sockets. 

“My love, you would not believe what Gale-” The voice of Astarion at the entrance of your tent sent you scrambling, snatching up your cloak to wrap around your body. The pale elf stopped, his crimson eyes reflecting his smile as he looked you up and down. “Forgive me, my darling. I did not realize that this was an art exhibit.” 

His words sunk in your stomach like lead in mud, slowly, yet inevitably gathering at the bottom, unable to ever be useful again. You glanced back at the mirror as he approached from behind you, wishing for once you could see his reflection with you instead of just yours. 

His pale, veiny arms snaked around your waist, pulling you back against his chest. You felt the light sting of his pointed teeth as he dragged them over your neck, inhaling the scent of your freshly washed hair. “Or perhaps you are offering dessert, my love?”  

Perhaps another night, you would have offered yourself, gone through the same ritual of letting him baptize you in pleasure and adoration, praying to his heart that it cleansed you of your offensive form. But tonight the hatred in your heart weighed too heavily; you feared spilling it onto Astarion and staining his affection for you. 

“Have I fallen from your good graces, my dear?” 

Astarion’s voice broke you from your ruminating thoughts, and you realized you had been silent a little too long. Astarion looked at you, face pinched in a little bit of defensive concern. Your own face had betrayed your thoughts, your own features contorted into a look of disgust when he had spoken his teasing proposition. 

“No, no. you are perfect.” You quickly tried to remedy, hoping your tone sounds lighter than your thoughts feel. 

“Then why do you look like you walked past Halsin a little too closely?” Astarion says lightly, resuming his sassy attitude after your reassurance.

You give  a half-hearted laugh, amused at his dig towards your fellow companion, but still too deep within the darkness of your own mind to enjoy the lightness. 

Astarion’s smile softens, and he holds you a little tighter in his arm, his left hand coming up to cup your jaw. You instinctively lean into his touch, your chest becoming feeling more like a cage for your lungs as tears threaten to reveal your weakness. “What is it that troubles you so, my love?” Astarion murmurs, his voice making your body tingle and ache like being close to a fire after a long night in the cold. 

“It is nothing.” You mumble, casting your eyes down, not trusting your emotions to remain in check if you looked into his eyes. 

Astarion’s cool finger presses against the hollow of your jaw, trailing forward to force your chin up. His smile holds a hint of his playful demeanor, but holds so much more love and affection. You briefly wonder if he would still smile that way if he knew just how abominable you were on the inside. 

“It is clearly not nothing if it has stolen the light from your eyes, my dear.” Astarion says gently, his eyes searching yours for your untold burdens. “I am usually so skilled at bringing it back; yet I see that this is an affliction my jovial words cannot ease.” He leans down, pressing his lips to your furrowed forehead. “If my words cannot be of comfort, allow my ears to be.” 

You studied the face of your lover, noting the delicate features and marks that you had come to know and love. “You’re so beautiful.” You whisper, reaching up to lightly trace his cheek. 

Asatrion’s eyes lit up, delighted by your complimentary words. He grasped your wrist, bringing those fingers to his lips, pressing intimate kisses to each one. “As are you, my love.” 

The sour feeling bubbled again in your stomach, and you wondered if you were going to throw up. “Don’t say that.” 

Immediately, Astarion’s features darken, his silvery eyebrows drawing together in a mix of irritation and concern. “Why not? Am I not allowed to return the sentiment?”

You shook your head, feeling very small, and yet taking up too much space. This was it, you were sure, this was going to be the night he walked away from you forever more. He was finally going to see you exactly as you were. “Not when it’s not true.” 

Astarion’s eyebrows rose up from their tightened position, now expressing the astonishment and incredulousness within his chest. “I do not lie to you, my dear.” He says, trying to resist the irritation he feels at being doubted. 

You huff, unconvinced as you pull away from him. “Then you have been blinded. I am not beautiful.” 

Astarion’s fingers curl around your wrist, not allowing you to stray further than his arm’s reach. “No, you are not beautiful. You are gorgeous, a treasure among men, more rare and bewitching than any goddess.” His words are spoken so earnestly, so confident in the truth of them. “You forget, my heart, that I have lived far too long, and seen too many pretty faces. And yet you are more exquisite than any of them.”

“You don’t have to flatter me anymore.” You say bitterly, keeping your face turned away. “You know you have my trust.”

“I’m not–” Astarion starts to snap, but he stops himself, taking a deep breath. He looks at your avoidant face, his heart stinging with doubt. “I thought I made myself perfectly clear about my sentiments.” He says quietly, forcing his voice to remain calm. “I do not continually pursue you because of survival. I do so because I love you. My undead heart is entirely yours, and any affection I express to you is entirely truthful.” 

Guilt gnawed at your already heavy heart, making you feel like an even filthier person than you were before. You knew Astarion was being genuine, you had no reason to blame him. Yet you felt like a caged dog, scared, and biting to find its freedom. “You shouldn’t love me.” You say lowly, unable to keep the disgust at your own behavior out of your voice. “I’m no good for you.” 

 Astarion bristles a little at this, giving a unbelieving scoff. “You are the best thing that has happened to me in my cursed existence. You cannot stop me from loving you any more than you can stop the sun from rising in the morning.” He steps closer to you, his grip on your wrist sliding down to intertwine your fingers with his. “Why are you running from my love?”

His words spoken so gently, without any accusation or judgment, break your fragile heart. Your lips pull into a frown, but you cannot stop as tears rush to ease the burning in your eyes, watering your cheeks in streams. Your breathing becomes choked, every inhale a struggle to get enough air as you stifle sobs. 

Immediately, Astarion comes forward, cocooning you within his embrace, as if the sheer strength of his arms could keep you from breaking. You bury your face into the linen on his chest, your crying violent as it drags up all the self loathing, all the dark thoughts and ideas that had settled into the walls of your body and mind. Your hands cling pathetically to Astarion, trying to ground yourself amongst the sea of your pain. 

He doesn’t let you go, instead holding you to himself, trying to support your trembling body as the tears streamed from your eyes. He didn’t say anything, didn't try to give any meaningless platitudes to smooth over your emotions; all he did was let you cry, pressing his lips lovingly to the top of your head, almost as if he could push out your harrowing thoughts with each kiss. 

Time seemed meaningless and yet all too present as your soul rained down upon Astarion’s shirt. Every time you attempted to calm yourself, to try to regain some grasp of the traitorous emotions, the tears would simply wash over anew, sending you right back into your linen hiding place. 

By the time your body finally wrung itself of its tears, you were left feeling thoroughly spent, tired and melancholy, the embodiment of gray itself. Astarion’s hands left your body, coming up to cup your face, pressing soft kisses to your forehead, down your nose, and across your cheeks before he pressed his head against yours. 

“I don’t like myself.” You whispered, your voice raspy from the strain of your sobs. “I hate the way I look. I hate my body, and I don’t...I don’t know why you can't see it, or when you’re going to realize you could do better, and I…” 

Astarion didn’t let you continue, pressing his lips against yours to silence you. His ruby eyes were shining with unshed tears, pain and worry twisting your empty chest. “You, my love...my treasure, my heart..” He shook his head, overcome with emotion for a moment. “You are utterly perfect to me. There is not a part of you I would change, or that I do not think is the most incredible sight to behold.” 

The twisted feeling in your chest had risen up to your throat as he spoke, threatening to choke you entirely. “There is so much wrong with me.” You insist, unsure of whether you’re speaking of your physicality or your mind, but even further unconvinced of if it really mattered. 

“There is nothing wrong with you.” Astarion’s voice was still loving, but each word was enforced with a firm tone, denying any argument. “Flawed, perhaps, but nothing wrong. And even if you are entirely flawed, that does not make you any less perfect in my eyes.” He paused, bringing his lips to your knuckles as he spoke again. “Or in my heart.” 

Everything inside of you wanted to protest, wanted to fight back; perhaps if you hurt him he would finally understand what you were. But in your heart, there was a tiny flame of hope that craved his words, feasting upon the adoring look in his eyes. It was that hope that shone through your dark mind, a tiny thought blooming that perhaps he was telling the truth. Perhaps you did deserve love. 

“How can you be so sure?”

Astarion’s smile returned, as assured and adoring as ever. “I wish I could show you the way I see you. To open up my heart and give you all my deepest thoughts and sentiments for you.” He gazed at you thoughtfully for a beat of silence, then kissing your hand once again. “Perhaps I cannot give you my mind, but I can still show you how I feel. If you would allow me.”

The instinct to run, to deny either one of you the chance to be open and genuine with one another, burned in your chest. But you loved Astarion, and so badly you craved to just let yourself be convinced that that could be enough. “Okay.” 

Astarion’s eyes were full of love as he closed the distance between you; slowly, he let go of your hand, bringing it to your shoulder. He catches the edge of your robe against his nails, and he brushes it downward, letting the loose fabric slip off. Your body tenses, your heart squeezing, as if trying to tamp down the swell of emotions you feel towards the vampire. 

“Breathe, my love.” Astarion softly whispers, his hand caressing the soft skin of your neck, worshiping the same patches of skin that you despised for their red roughness. “You need only speak your discomfort, and I will stop. But I only wish to show you my affection.” 

The only discomfort you felt was from the fact that you existed as you were, but it was intoxicating to have Astarion so reverently touch you, crimson eyes so intent in their admiration. You could not find it within yourself to pull away. “I want your affection.” You admit softly, wanting only the elf’s long ears to catch your confession. Astarion smiles warmly, looking pleased with the opportunity your words presented him. 

Tenderly, he removed your robe from your body, his actions not unlike how an artist reveals their work. His eyes, usually so hungry when he saw you naked, instead were marveling at your body, taking in every part as if you were a painting that needed to be understood as well as appreciated. “You are so beautiful, my love.” 

Heat rises up your neck, feeling vulnerable and unsure of yourself under his admiring gaze. Yet you still did not want him to stop, your insides fluttering as he placed his cool hands on your waist. His smile unwavering, paralleled by his enraptured eyes, he guided you further into the tent, until he had you lay down on the bed roll. Astarion fussed over you for a moment, making sure your pillow was right, that the blankets were comfortable enough, that you were alright. It was an endearing turn of sweetness amongst the emotionally heavy atmosphere, bringing a hint of a smile to your lips. 

Astarion knelt over you, his hands beside your head; his ruby pools swirling with devotion. “You are truly the light and love of my life. A thousand years attached to your side could never be enough to satiate the desire I feel to have you, body and soul. No matter how you view yourself, you must know that no flower that blooms, no gem set in gold, no god sent divination could ever give my eyes a sight that is more magnificent than you are.” You had only ever heard his voice this raw, this unaffected and meaningful in his words, the first time he told you he loved you. “I adore you. There is nothing that you could ever do to change that, certainly not by being yourself and not even by trying. My heart is entirely bewitched by you and I will not let you go.”  

Your eyes felt misty, your body dried of its tears from your previous bout of crying. Your heart ached, but it almost felt good, to be seen in all your pain and hatred and still be told that you were loved. “Astarion...I love you.” Your voice is trembling, but earnest in its words. 

“And I love you.” Atsarion murmurs back, leaning in to press his cool lips to yours. “More than anything. And I will tell you every moment until there is not a doubt left in your mind that you are my only religion, my goddess.” 

Astarion moves his lips from your own down to your jaw, slowly pressing kisses of amorous devotion over your skin. Like a priest at the altar, he allowed his praises to be felt rather than song, pious in his utter worship to your body. Down your neck, through the valleys of your collarbones, making the pilgrimage to the heights of your breasts. Faithful and unwavering in his piety, he continued down your sternum, making no exception to any mark or hair or scar that came in path. 

You internally cringed as he got to your soft belly, preparing for his disgust; instead, however, you heard his voice murmur against your skin. “Gods, I love you.” His hands splayed over your hips, grasping a little as he pressed his face into your yielding body, sending heat up your core. Your surprise was only furthered as you felt the light scratch of his vampiric teeth catching on your stretch marks, following the rivulets with intent. 

As he moved further, he pressed a light kiss to your pelvis, giving it the affection he certainly knew it was worthy of, but he continued on, wanting his actions to be sensual, but not sexual; you were worth so much more than that. He certainly adored making love to you, but in this moment he wanted to simply convey his love for you through his touches. 

His hands moved to your plush thighs, and he made another sound of contentment as he kissed the skin there, giving equal adoration to the scars you felt so much shame for. You braced yourself for questions, but he asked none, silently accepting that that would be a battle to face another day. For now, he simply kissed over the pocked skin over your cellulite, nibbling any part that seemed particularly alluring to him. Though that proved to only have his fangs bared constantly, every new ripple of your thighs only looking more appetizing as he continued. 

Throughout Astarion’s entire ritualistic worshiping, you had slowly relaxed, melting into the bedroll as you experienced his sheer devotion. Your mind was pulled away from its dark thoughts, not in the way it usually was during passion, but rather feeling like the dark inner person within your mind had been calmed, wrapped in a blanket of warmth. 

Astarion sensed that his efforts had done at least a portion of what he desired, and so he rested his cheek against your thigh, gazing up at you with lazy admiration.  “Shall I continue? Will you be convinced if I should perhaps lick your toes?” He teased, a smirk curling on his lips.

“Ew!” You squealed, instinctively curling the appendages inward. “Astarion!” 

Despite your disgust, Astarion felt content with his words as he heard you finally laugh, light hearted and easy once more. “There she is, my beautiful love.” He murmurs, pressing a kiss behind your ear as he comes up and lays next to you. His arms remain around your own frame, wanting to keep you as close as he could. 

“Thank you.” You whisper, looking into his eyes, your heart warm and full from his adoration. 

“No need for thanks.” Astarion insists, a leg coming over yours to pull you against him. “I love you. And for that, there is nothing I wouldn’t do to prove it to you, for as long as you need me to. You are mine, forevermore, and I will take every part of you and love you for it until the heavens do not rise upon our flesh again.” 

[ticklishraspberries]

Neck Kisses (Katniss/Peeta)

Summary: Peeta gives Katniss kisses over the years. (Week #4 of @august-anon's Tickletober prompts!! I've never written a Hunger Games fic before so let me know if y'all like it and/or want to see more!!)

The lights are blinding, and Katniss is struggling to keep that fake smile on her face. They’ve been standing, taking photos, being gawked at for what has felt like years.

Cinna has dressed her in gold. Peeta’s suit matches perfectly. He does look handsome, but she isn’t sure the color really does him any favors: The shimmer pops on her skin tone, compliments her dark hair and eyes, but Peeta’s pale and blonde and would probably suit silver more, she thinks. Not that she knows anything about fashion, nor does she care about how Peeta dresses. She only cares about how he’ll fight in the arena, and how his hand around her waist right now is really irritating. She wants nothing more than to shrug him off, to roll her eyes right at those cameras, to take all the stupid pins out of her hair.

Instead, she just stands and tries to look pretty.

Peeta’s head moves in her peripheral vision and she shoots him a confused glance, and then twitches when he presses a gentle kiss to her shoulder where the dress has left her skin exposed. No one has ever kissed her there, and goosebumps immediately spread over her skin. It doesn’t feel bad, but she still digs her elbow into his side in retaliation anyway, because he could have at least warned her that he and Haymitch were upping the affection quota.

When they’re finally free from the cameras and lights, and Katniss has shed most of her ridiculous outfit, Peeta comes and sits beside her, away from prying eyes.

“Sorry I kissed your shoulder,” he says, avoiding her eyes. “Haymitch and Effie have been trying to get me to…sell this whole love story thing. I should have asked you if that was okay first, I just had the idea in the moment and went for it.”

Katniss looks him up and down, the shyness in his body language and the genuinity in his tone, and her hard expression softens just a little. “It’s fine. Just…warn me next time.”

He nods, offering her a little smile. Then, after a moment of comfortable silence, he asks: “Did it tickle?”

“What?”

“When I kissed you. It seemed like it tickled.”

Katniss does roll her eyes now, ignoring the way her face feels suddenly warm under his scrutiny. “No, it just felt weird. And I wasn’t expecting it.”

Peeta has this stupid smile on his face that makes Katniss want to punch him. But, there are rules about tributes fighting, and she also doesn’t think she could really hurt him when he looks so innocent, so…She huffs and gets to her feet.

“So, you aren’t ticklish? I just think if we’re going to be allies, I should know your weaknesses, you know?” Peeta says, and he’s fully grinning now.

“Goodnight, Peeta,” she replies, refusing to turn back and let him see the way her lips have started to curl. Watching him try to find the light, the humor in this all, to get to know her even though it’s probable he will have to kill her…Well, those thoughts dampen her mood quite quickly.

The truth is, she is ticklish. Most of her experience with tickling has been her tickling Prim, and sometimes Gale tickling her, but she always fights him tooth and nail when he does it. He’s usually all rough hands squeezing her sides and scribbling behind her knees. What Peeta had done was different, it was gentle and made her stomach flutter…She supposes it would have felt nice, if they had been alone, and she had known he was going to do it, and could have prepared.

She falls asleep trying to ignore the little voice in her mind that wants him to do it again.

***

The sound of birds chirping outside the window is what wakes her.

Katniss blinks against the sunshine seeping into the room, and settles comfortably into Peeta’s arms that are wrapped around her waist. The morning is still, the children still sleeping instead of climbing into their bed with excited babbling as they do most mornings.

Peeta begins to stir beside her, and Katniss finds herself smiling as he nuzzles his face into the crook of her neck. “Morning,” he mumbles.

“Morning,” she replies softly.

Peeta’s lips press a soft kiss to the skin of her shoulder, and then continues to pepper those little kisses up to her jaw and back down again. She’s giggling in seconds, having been unprepared for such antics so early. She’s still stubborn as she was as a scrappy teenager in the Seam, and normally when Peeta tickles her, she holds her laughter in and fights back, turning the tables or running off into the grass. She doesn’t have that chance now, lovingly encased in his arms and still too sleepy to launch an escape plan.

She doesn’t even remember the first time he pressed his lips there, back before the first Games, on that stage with the blinding lights. That feels lifetimes away, has been buried under much worse memories, forgotten. They are making new memories now, better ones.

“Peeta, we’ll wake them,” she says, trying to keep her giggling to a low volume.

Peeta just grins. “They’ll be up soon anyway.”

And with that, he starts tickling her belly with ten fast fingers, and Katniss has no choice but to dissolve into laughter. It isn’t long until the children are roused by the sound, curious as to what their mama could be finding so funny.

Now, she starts her day with genuine smiles, laughter, and love.

[caustinen]

clegan drabble 💞📑⚖️

— secret relationship / lawyer au

Gale is deep in thought, staring at the papers in his hand with a slight frown. He doesn’t look up when someone knocks on his open office door — mainly because he can tell it’s Bucky without having to check. It’s evident by — well, everything, the rhythm of his steps when they approached, the way the air smells of smugness and his favorite cologne, and the firmness in which he knocked.

Fair enough, the footsteps continue further without waiting for invitation. Gale puffs out a breath, gesturing with his occupied hands, still not looking up. ”I know we’re supposed to be having dinner right now but I just got the new evidence on the Hausmann case this afternoon and- Mpfh!”

He’s very rudely interrupted by a pair of insistent lips pressing to his. Bucky isn’t bothered by him not being ready for it in the slightest, just pulls him close by the waist — which is not tiny by the way, no matter what Bucky keeps insisting every time he grabs it in bed — and bites into the lush lips with his own with a passion that suggests it would’ve been quite a while longer than a couple of hours since he last did it.

Gale surrenders to the antics like it was a natural disaster — why fight what is inevitable? — but when John snatches the papers from his hands and throws them carelessly to the table behind himself Gale makes a protesting sound and presses his newly freed hands to his chest in mild protest.

”John,” he whines and the smirk on Bucky’s face makes him want to punch him almost as much as he wants to kiss is again, ”what are you-” ”The damn new copying machine jammed again, and I figured the only way I wouldn’t kick it was if I could jam my tongue to the back of your throat in turn.”

Gale looks at him blankly. ”That’s. Not-” ”I would of course prefer to destroy it by having you over it so hard that they’d have to buy a new one. We could really help the whole office with one easy, selfless act, doll.”

Gale scoffs but he knows Bucky can tell he’s fighting a smile. The second kiss is more gentle but still quite too intense for a work environment. Bucky has one hand around Gale’s waist and the other on his cheek, Gale’s are resting lazily on his hips as they indulge in each other, breathe quietly in their lovers lips and enjoy the forbidden bliss of doing this at work — it feels more meaningful than it is, really, like they’re not only breaking the rules of their office but also the deeper system it is embedded to; pleasure at work fights with the ideals of capitalism themselves, Gale would probably muse if he wasn’t so damn busy not thinking about anything but how lovely it is to kiss someone you love. He pushes John gently towards the table behind him and exhales as he bites his lowelip when John pulls him against his spread legs.

He needs to catch his breath though, and that’s when he realizes they are not even as thinly veiled as he would have hoped. ”You left the door open,” he says, trying to push him farther so the pose wouldn’t be so damning, ”my secretary-” ”I sent him away,” John says, uninterested, and tries to pull Gale closer by his tie. The younger doesn’t budge, though, but rather lifts a hand to his own lips and then looks at the fingers as if he could from there see how swollen, how incriminating, the scene they make looks.

”Anyone could walk in.” John groans and bites the air between them, running his hands down Gale’s sides. ”Don’t get me more excited than I already am, damn, sweetheart.” ”Oh for fuck’s sake-”

Bucky kisses him again to silence him, and despite a weak fight Gale allows it well enough. After, when Bucky pulls away, he takes Gale’s face between his palms and makes him look into his eyes.

”Baby. Everyone else left like an hour ago. It’s 8pm. You work too much. Time to call it a night.”

Gale stares at him, blinking a couple of times before slowly checking his watch and realizing John is not joking. He really has been at the office for more than 13 hours. Oops.

”I…” ”Save it, cowboy,” Bucky says with the easiness that Gale so loves about him as he stands up straight and takes Gale’s jacket from the chair. ”I love how much you care. I also love that I get to be the one who tells you when you’re an idiot workaholic and need to go home for a bit so you can be an idiot workaholic tomorrow too.” Gale sighs dramatically but does put on the coat Bucky is holding up for him.

”Well,” he says sheepishly as Bucky drags him out of the office by the hand and stops to lock the door, ”I can’t cook anything nice to apologize at home but maybe I can think of something else to reward such patience for my crime of attempting to serve justice.”

Bucky chukles, leaning up from the lock and and taking Gale’s hand to his. ”That copying machine gets to live one more day then,” he says and kisses Gale’s knuckles. Gale tries to swat him but he dodges. They’re both giggling and Gale knows he must be too tired when he’s this careless at the office but to be fair it is late and everyone truly is home. He dares one more kiss when they wait for the elevator.

People at their office don’t need to know about his personal life. They don’t need to know he’s fucking his boss. They don’t need to know that it’s been going on for years but it wasn’t until yesterday when Bucky had taken him into a fancy restaurant and told him he loves him and wants to be more than friends who have sex sometimes (quite frequently lately) (and exclusively) but still, he wants to be even more than that. They don’t need to know Gale’s heart had bursted in the moment when his deepest, most hidden dream had come true, and butterflies don’t even begin to explain the sensations those words set in motion. They don’t need to know he and Bucky made love all night, that he fell asleep in Bucky’s bed, and that he plans on doing that again tonight.

He looks at Bucky and feels a fondness that’s almost like pain as it stretches over the places in him that used to be longing and achiching. He looks down shyly before raising his eyes again, kissing Bucky’s knuckles in turn.

”My place or yours?”

[blixabargelds]

12. things you said when you thought I was asleep

pls pls pls

did you think i was going to be sad with this one 😈

- things you said when you thought i was asleep

They agreed upon it days ago. John drunk as all hell, a dead weight at Gale’s side and listing tiredly. He’d turned to Gale and said, wanna fuck you every waking moment. Gale had said, your waking moments are rapidly depleting. John had said, doesn’t matter to me. Gale, dropping to his knees to untie his boots for him, had said, to me neither.

The next morning, pitifully wrung out and wincing into his coffee, John had looked up at Gale open-mouthed, as Gale reiterated, “It don’t gotta be a waking moment.”

It’s not John’s fault that he’s a light sleeper.

Gale wakes groggily, the air still cool and the sky still pitch black as it leaks in through their window, John’s long fingers opening him up from behind. Gale’s breath catches. He’s face down in their bed, and inhales deep and slow the flavour of the cotton sheets, shivering as he tries to regulate the movements of his body. John had wanted this. Gale’s happy to give him the illusion. He keeps himself lax as possible, eyes shut, as John draws out two fingers, then slides three back in. He’s been half-successful; the stretch tingles in the base of Gale’s spine, but does not hurt. He notices, then, that the nape of his neck is damp against his sleep shirt’s collar, as if John’s been lapping at him. Gale is hard between his stomach and the bed. There’s a stickiness already at the tip of his cock, and the idea that John’s been at this for some time makes it suddenly more challenging to stay still.

John hooks his fingers inside him, and Gale swallows around a whine. It’s a poor method on John’s part- if he wanted Gale asleep then he shouldn’t delve like that, soft pads of his fingertips pressing and seeking, slick with Vaseline and scissoring a little. Gale breathes faster, tries to hold back the way his hips want to stutter, as John moans quietly behind him at nothing but his own fingers fucking into Gale.

“Christ, I’d have you like this every night,” he mutters. Gale bites his lip. “God, every morning, too. I just might.”

John pulls his fingers out, and it takes all Gale’s strength not to back up to keep them inside. The silence in the room feels enormous in his head, as John shuffles around in the dark. Gale’s half scared his heartbeat might give him away. His lungs ache with the effort of expanding subtly whilst pressed flat onto the mattress, and then John’s pressing him down further, his wetted cock pushing inside his hole with more restraint than Gale’s ever felt from him.

“Oh, fuck,” John hisses. “Buck, sweetheart.”

There’s drool escaping Gale’s lips from around his clamped teeth. He wonders if there’s any range of movement that won’t give him away, any small shift of his ass back onto John’s cock that won’t alert him to Gale’s wakefulness. He tests a fraction. It’s either well timed with John’s slow thrusts, or John is too gone to notice, because as Gale grinds back against him as minutely as he can John falls further forward, hitting the spot in Gale that would normally have him groaning loud.

“I love you pliant,” John whispers. Gale makes a punched-out noise that could be a dreaming grunt. “Love the way you just take me without tryin’.”

John pulls halfway out. It’s dizzyingly slow, so as not to wake Gale, who’s wide awake and fast losing his grip on pretence. He fucks himself down onto the bed, he can’t help it. The friction against his cock makes him sigh, makes him want to do it again, but he’s already jerking too much to be convincing much longer. John thrusts back into him deep, and Gale almost chokes.

“So tight even like this,” John keeps talking, filthy little whispers for nobody’s benefit but his own, every one making Gale’s eyes roll behind his eyelids.

He starts fucking him in earnest; not his usual, fast rutting, but clipped grinding thrusts, hardly any drag of his cock pulling in and out of Gale’s body, just burrowing himself further in. Gale’s mouth is open against the sheets now, and he thinks he might be wheezing. The bed begins to bounce with John’s movements, allowing Gale a touch more plausibility with which to fuck back onto John. He rolls his hips down, breath coming faster and harder as his cock twitches where it’s trapped, John splaying a big hand over Gale’s spine and pressing him down more. Gale’s aching cock rubs desperately against the sheets. He lets slip a decidedly conscious moan.

“Buck?” John says.

“Don’t stop,” Gale grits out, voice thick, “Bucky-”

“Fuck,” John says. He grabs Gale’s hips, pulls him back by them hard, and Gale finally releases a crushed, noisy breath as his chest leaves the bed. “How long-”

“John,” Gale gasps.

“Okay,” John says. “Alright,” as he reaches around to take Gale’s dripping cock in hand.

It only takes two tugs for Gale to come. He groans into the crook of his elbow, shuddering as John’s fingers slide over the head of his cock, gathering the hot rush of cum and slicking it back up his sensitive length, driving roughly into him until he shouts out his own release.

Gale collapses under their shared weight. John pulls out after a long, panting moment, and yawns.

“You tired or somethin’, Bucky?” Gale says.

“Were you leading me on that whole time?” says John. Gale says nothing, but shakes his head. There’s a small amount of light coming through the window now. In the relief of it, John laughs. “You were. You son of a bitch.”

“Says who?” Gale smiles. “Was just gonna tell you ’bout my nice dream.”

[brotherwtf]

Prompt: “We shouldn’t be doing this.”

Pairing: Clegan

ah a classic, what a good thing to say when you physically can't pull yourself away from the other

-----

Even on their hundredth, thousandth, possibly millionth time meeting in an abandoned shack just off of Thorpe Abbotts, Gale still pushed him away when John's lips grazed his. It always perplexed John how easily Gale came with just a smirk of John's lips or a subtle nod of his head, but protested when they finally got out there.

Now, when John ducked down to press their lips together, Gale turned his head at the last minute so that John's lips pressed against Gale's cheek. He huffed in frustration, pulling from Gale and running a hand down his face.

"Are you going to do this every time? Or do I have to crawl on my knees and beg for it? Because I will, Buck, I fucking will," John says and Gale just sighs.

He shakes his head and turns away, facing the wall that John had pushed him against the very first time they did this.

"We shouldn't be doing this," Gale says and John wants to scream.

He grabs Gale by the shoulder and spins him around, holding him roughly and resisting the urge to shake him.

"So why do you keep coming back? You can just ignore me, then we wouldn't have to go through this game every time," John pleads.

"We're going to get caught. Our boys need us, no need for us to be sent home on a blue card of all things," Gale says, shoving John's hands off of his shoulders.

John's grip finds him again, this time actually giving him a firm jerk and looking him in the eyes.

"Tell me how you really feel about this, Buck. Don't fucking play with me now, because I think I care for you a great deal more than you care for me," John says and there's a creep of a shout crawling into his face.

Gale purses his lips together and avoids John's gaze, looking at the floor or the wall to avoid it.

"I do care for you, Bucky. It's just that this ain't right, between two men. I have a fiance," Gale says.

"Did Marge write you? Tell you this was wrong? Because I guarantee that the love I have for you can't be wrong, it's certainly not wrong to me," John says and there's a swell of heat in his throat that he bites down. He won't cry in front of Gale.

There's a glassiness to Gale's eyes now, and John hopes that maybe he'll come around.

"We can't do this anymore. I'm getting married to Marge when we get back, this was just a thing for us to help us cope," Gale says quietly.

John huffs with force, turning away from Gale and feeling that same heat in his stomach.

"Don't fucking do that. You weren't like this last night, hell you were fucking begging for my cock. Don't just throw this all away," John says and feels a small sense of victory when Gale flushes.

"I'm leaving this, John, I'm not getting caught for this fucking accident," Gale hisses.

John could hit him. Punch him straight in the jaw. But he could never do that, could never do that to Gale.

"Fine. We'll stop this. But you can't stop me from loving you. Because that sure as hell ain't stopping," John says and Gale's eyes soften ever so slightly.

He walks closer, puts a friendly hand on John's shoulder, but leans in to press a gentle kiss on John's lips. Even that feels like a goodbye.

"I'm sorry I did this to you, John. Forgive me?" Gale says and John could almost laugh.

But he'll always forgive Gale. Even if he shoots him or gets him killed, he will never blame Gale for anything.

All he can do is watch Gale leave their abandoned shed as John's heart breaks in half.

I would say I'm sorry but I'm not so...

[swifty-fox]

It's raining so badly in the UK it's become a caricature of itself, but it made me think....how do the Chapel ooys handle bad weather in that car? Do they ever get into fights when they're frustrated, or more just bickering?

they have a couple arguments here! but I miss them so

"I'm tired," Gale sighs, slumping further into his seat, drawing the oversized hoodie of John's down over his eyes to block out the constant patter of rain.

"Blanket's in the backseat," John reminds him, eyes flicking from the unfolded map on his lap to the street and back. He was driving one handed, cigarette pinched between two knuckles and leaking sweet smoke into the belly of the car. The window's cracked but it's ineffective at clearing out the worst of the haze, spitting in more damp rain and humid air than it is snatching away the smoke.

Gale bites back a quiet noise of frustration, "I'm sick of sittin' up here."

"So get in the back seat."

"I want to stop somewhere, Bucky."

"In this?" John asks incredulously, glancing up and over at Gale, "Every Inn from here to Wichita is going to be fully booked."

"In Kansas?" Gale snaps.

John waves a hand around helplessly. At the road, slick with rain. At the angry patter of rain on the windshield.

"Pick a spot. You want the Ritz? The Hilton? How about the Mariott?"

They've been on the road for a whopping seventeen consecutive hours, stopping only for gas and to relieve themselves. And now the rain, slick and insistent and turning the air around them maddeningly heavy with damp. Clinging their clothes to their bodies and their hair to their necks, it did little to cool off the world, just stol their ability to sweat away the worst of the heat.

"Nice, Bucky," Gale mutters, crossing his arms and slumping in the seat.

"Listen, doll, if a fucking Four Seasons popped up right now that'd be one thing, but there ain't shit out here."

"Just forget about it."

John glances down at the map again, squints out at the road. Works his jaw in a quick chewing motion, "You knew what you were getting into. Don't take it out on me."

Gale scoffs lightly, turns to punch the back of the seat soft and adjusts his position again, "You didn't have to take me with you."

"Yeah," John says slowly, "Cos' when a guy says take me with you or I'll give a Lewisnky to the barrel of a gun, it really gives a guy a lotta options.

"I didn't realize I was such a charity case to you, John," Gale answers coldly.

"Oh Jesus, come on, Buck."

"Pull over."

"Are you serious?"

"Pull the fuck over," Gale insists, going for the door handle.

"Fuck, " John swerves the car, braking hard enough to slide Gale forward in his seat a few inches, "You call me a loon, hold on don't jump out."

Gale waits until the car is at little more than a slow roll along the shoulder to leave its dry confines. He's soaked almost immediately by the downpour, plastering his hair to his face in stringy pathetic strands and turning his clothes dark and heavy. He doesn't care, taking several long strides away from the vehicle and out into the dark prairie. He hears the slam of a second car door behind him, John's muffled curse and then an exasperated bellow.

"Don't get out of sight of the car lights, Gale."

He ignores the command, striding out further and tripping over thick clods of soaking grass. John's huffing and puffing behind him, large body as graceful as a bull as he follows after Gale.

"Buck, just stop would you?"

Gale wants to tell him to go fuck himself. He stops.

Stares out over the scenery though there's nothing to see past the obscure of the rain. It slips between his slightly parted lips, cool and sweet; strikes the crown of his head in sharp impacts, the droplets fat and heavy.

"I didn't mean it like that, Gale," John says as he draws up beside him.

Gale wraps his arms around his torso, damp shirt fabric bunching heavily under his touch. He inhales, then scoffs, "How'd you mean it then?"

When he glances over John's got his own hoodie drawn up tight, strings drawn tight so only his nose and chin are visible. It's comedic enough to almost make Gale laugh, if he weren't so committed to being angry.

John purses his lips, then sighs, grinning sideways, "I dunno. Just bein' shitty I guess."

"Yeah," Gale agrees, "Me too."

"So we're both shitty," John concedes, "And now we're wet."

"Yeah," Gale agrees.

Heavy warm arms wrap around Gale's shoulder, draw him in front and close. He can't see John's eyes but doesn't need to, could pick them out in his sleep. John leans forward to kiss him, then pauses as if checking they were on the same page. Gale tilts his chin up slightly, tucks his slick fingers into the front pocket of John's hoodie.

John kisses him, slow and tender and with enough lightness rainwater slips between their lips, filling their mouths between caresses.

"I'm sorry," John says, "'M fuckin' tired too."

"Let me have a turn driving," Gale says, "I'll find us a place to sleep for the night."

they fight! just like any other couple :)

[middlingmay]

“Honey, have you been crying? What is it? What’s wrong?” buck x bucky?

Hello! Do you know you're my very first Anon ask in my inbox? Thrilled to have you!

Anyway, I had fun with this one. Please enjoy this wee Modern Gale/John, with echoes of a past life. I hope you like it, and thanks for being so patient with me :)

“You look just like my friend Buck from Manitowoc.”

The kitchen table was cold, but it barely registered against the chill those dreams left behind

God, John was so damn sick of those dreams. He was so sick of being paralysed by sleep and being force to watch the same reel he’d dreamed of time and time again flicker through his head.

He had no choice but to watch these two men meet over and over again; to watch a friendship roar to life through immediate unbounded affection and unfurling gestures of trust. He watched as smiles helped to alleviate the hardest days of basic training; as quiet moments together gave them a space to sort out their thoughts away from the rest of them; as spirited discussions led to better strategies, better leadership, and endless respect between these two men.

He watched as physical affection grounded the men when they needed it most: arms thrown over shoulders, hands squeezing thighs, gentle chucks to the chin.

“Don’t you die on me before I get over there.”

John had to watch something in Bucky change after that first combat flight.

“I got a nickname for you and it ain’t Buck!”

No. No one was Buck. Why couldn’t he just say that, though? John tried to yell at Bucky as he dreamed - tried to scream at him - just tell him!

“I don’t feel a thing.”

In these strange and awful dreams, John had to watch Bucky lose his men and go out of his way to get himself hurt because it was the only way he could let himself acknowledge the pain without crumbling to dust underneath it.

“We’re gonna get through this. Come on. Don’t you stop believing that.”

John had to watch Bucky package away all his fears, his frustrations, his doubts, and hide it all the way out of Buck’s sight. He’d believe enough for the two of them. He’d get them both out of there if it killed him.

“London. Let’s do it up. Paint the town red.” “Maybe next time.”

John had to watch Bucky watch Buck dance away with Meatball - so utterly ridiculous and endearing and he feels the grief start to flare to life in his chest. Don’t go. Don’t you goddamn leave him again. Go up with him. Fly with him. Don’t let yourselves go alone!

“Did he have a good game?”

John had to watch Bucky lose Buck all over again, and saw the angry, violent grief wash over this man and drag him down, passed the man he used to be; down in the esteem of his men; and down into enemy territory and the horrors he had to feel and flee and flee again.

Until:

“Do any of you know if Buck made it?” “John Egan! Your two o’clock!”

John finally got to see Bucky feel the smallest flash of incandescent joy as he realises Buck is alive and he might be able to keep his promise after all. But soon after, when time starts to pass in the Stalag, he has to watch Bucky spiral, and he sees Buck watching and trying to keep the men and himself together so they can keep Bucky together. But it’s like keeping water in a cracked vase. John had to watch Buck witness Bucky lose himself until he was so unrecognisable that he hurt Buck and Buck punched him -

And John had to watch that awful march in the cold and the dark, and see the terror both Buck and Bucky feel when the other stumbles or slows.

And then it’s the night in the village when Bucky sacrifice the only two things that kept him breathing - Buck and his freedom - without a second thought. So long as Buck got out. John had to watch Bucky throw himself at the German with the gun and knock the rifle away because he couldn’t risk a stray bullet.

“Go! Get out of here!”

And when John finally got to see Bucky and Buck reunite, all they get to share is a handshake, which they clutch to like a lifeline, and later a flask. Then he’s watching Buck and Bucky go their separate ways until Bucky is at Buck’s back as he gets married -

“John? You in here, baby?”

John returns to the present, and his eyes latch onto the sleepy posture, messy hair, and concerned gaze of his husband standing in the kitchen doorway. His Gale. Who pads over on bare feet and John feels the heat of his long, strong hands cupping his cheeks.

John always felt overwhelmed by his love whenever he looked at Gale, but tonight he burns with a love, a desperation, that feels more than his own; more than he could fit into one lifetime. And the edges of the dream still toe the boundaries of his consciousness.

“Honey, have you been crying? What is it? What’s wrong?”

John only feels the tears now, as they roll fat and slow down from the corners of his eyes. His nose stings and his throat feels thick.

He whispers brokenly, “Buck…”

Gale’s face crumples as he recognises the name. John only ever calls him that after those dreams. Those awful, heartbreaking dreams of Buck and Bucky, gifted the joy of knowing each other, loving each other, and torn apart time and time again.

Gale grabs handfuls of John and switches places, so he can sit down and gather and tuck John into his lap, until all of him is curled and curved and protected in his embrace.

Buck might not have been able to do this for Bucky, but Gale can do it for John. And be grateful for the privilege.

He places slow, heavy strokes down John’s side as he shakes.

After a time, he mumbles against Gale’s chest, “Do you think they ever got to be happy?”

See, John is convinced they were real, Buck and Bucky. Gale has even offered to look them up, see if he can find some kind of record in the archives. But something about getting that confirmation, seeing the faces of two men that John sees as echoes of them - it's too much. He doesn't want to know.

“I don’t know,” Gale answers truthfully. “But right here, now, we can be happy enough for both of ‘em.”

[freestyle-crocodile-trashpile]

Rage

[A/n:Mortal kombat brutality style 😈😈😈. I got this idea after seeing the Orin thingy when she takes Gale.]

Summary:Orin was nothing compared to your fists

Type:Scenario:?: Gale X M!Tiefling!Reader

Version:Bg3

~

The anger filled you so quickly as you watched Orin twitch and snap back into her original form. Gale no longer infront if you.

"What did you do to Gale..." A shiver ran down your companions' spines at the tone of your voice.

Orin snickered, a dark look forming on her face. It only made you want to punch her face in.

"Nothing to bad...yet, once I get back I-" She didn't get to finish her sentence as your fist came in contact with her face.

A sickening crunch filled the room as your fist came in contact with her nose, completely shattering it. She didn't have time to react as you punch her again, and again, and again. You didn't stop or slow down, your tail stiff and twitching behind you as your clawed fingers stabbed into both of her eyes, crushing the soft organ instantly. She screamed, yanking your hand away from her face. Blood streamed down her face, covering her skin and the ground below. You didn't waste anytime, headbutting her while she had a grip on your wrist, your horns scrapped against her skin, tearing at her flesh. Another punch to her face and she stumbled against the wall. Another scream left her mouth. Holding her face as she stumbled away from you, tripping over chairs and bumping into the desk. Pure rage was radiating off you, causing your companions to step back.

"God damn, Soldier!" Karlach laughed, finding this disturbing yet amusing.

You didn't even process her words, storming over to Orin. Your hand grabbed her hair, yanking her head back so far her veins started showing on her neck. If you tugged any harder her neck would've snapped, or tore her hair out.

"Where's Gale?!" Orin punched you weakly, attempting to get out of your grip blindly.

"To hells with you! I'll send you there myself!" Orin Wouldn't be better just telling you. She could feel your rage, even blind she felt superior in this moment.

Another scream left her mouth as you tore her hair from her scalp, a patch of her skin tearing with the blood. A deep growl left your throat as she tried to leave again. Rising your hand, claws out, you grabbed at her face, your claws digging into her skin as you tear the skin from her face. Another scream, louder, more pained.

"Tell me!" All you got was a cry and a tremble as she started chanting something.

You grabbed her jaw, crushing it in your hand. Her chanting was silenced quickly, another cry of pain as you punched her again. She fell to the ground, hastily looking for something to use against you, yet with her eyes crushed and oozing from her sockets, it was way more difficult than ever before. She grabbed a letter opener just as you yanked her back up. Swiftly, she stabbed you in the eye, well, tried to, she just barely missed, stabbing your cheekbone instead. A hiss left your throat, letting go of her temporarily. She shoved you to the ground and dashed away from you, raming into a chair then into a wall. She stumbled, turning around and moving her head as if it'd let her see again. You growled, running at her. Fortunately for her, she dodged.

"I'll kill you!" She ran at you, clawing at your face, which only made you grab her wrists and crush her wrist bones under your grip, twisting her hands the wrong way before twisting her around and slamming her against a desk.

"I won't ask again. Where. Is. Gale." Another cry and a hiss.

"Fuck you" Orin hissed out, her broken jaw making her words slurred and disoriented.

She managed to shove you off her, turning to you and summoning a summon to fight you. You charged at her, lowing your hand and aiming your claws straight at her stomach. Before she could react, your hand went through her stomach, tearing the Armour away with your other hand. A sound if gagging was heard from shadowheart and a wheeze from Orin. Your hand twisted in her, gripped her spine before tearing it from her stomach, snapping the bone as you pulled it out from her stomach. You stepped back, spine clenched in your hand, breathing heavily as Orin took a few steps before collapsed on the ground. Everyone was silent, horror on their faces. You reached down and grabbed Orin, tossing her over your shoulder, spine still in hand as you started walking.

When you found where Gale was being kept, all it took was dropping Orins body on the ground and a glare for them to release Gale. You took the body home with you, just in case. Yet your body was stained with her blood, you reeked of blood. It was so strong your companions couldn't be around you, even Astarion.

~

[A/n:Hehe...I might have gone to far with it, but you know what. Orin needs a good ass beating. I hope you enjoyed]

[imagine-shenanigans]

Professor on Professor Violence (Professor Gale Dekarios x Professor Reader)

all you need to know is this is rivals to lovers where reader and gale have deeply sexually charged feelings for each other but they're both fucking idiots

AFAB reader, y/n not used, this has porn in it but it's 8k words of it you can also find it on ao3 right here but i have to go to bed now because i wrote this in a haze for six hours straight like a man possessed

Gale Dekarios.

The man.

The myth.

The legend.

The once lover of Mystra. The man who had survived the netherese orb. The man who had survived being infected by Mind Flayers and, with the help of his companions, had destroyed the Nether Brain.

Gale Dekarios.

The newest Evocation professor at Blackstaff.

Gale. Fucking. Dekarios.

The boy who pulled your hair, and gave you a black eye and who you had scratched and bit so much as a child that the two of you came home looking as though an owlbear had mauled you.

That Gale Dekarios.

That man, who was now teaching across the hall from you.

“And then he rolls his stupid sleeves up-” you rant, stabbing angrily at your lunch. Cheeks burning angrily as you direct the skeleton to continue cleaning the classroom. “And he says what a surprise to see you, Tabby.” 

“No!” Gossamer gasps, her claws twitching in the air. “What did Master do?” 

“I fucking left the room, obviously.” You snort. Scratching behind Gossamer’s quills as you take another bite of food. “Can you believe it? I don’t see the man for years and he still calls me that stupid nickname!” 

“Honestly! How hard is it to say- DON’T TOUCH THAT!” 

Dropping your fork, you immediately scramble up, turning your back on your familiar to stop the skeleton you’d animated from punching a damn hole into a desk.

“Gods above and below what are you- honestly!” You groan, throwing your hands into the air. “Can’t even, Gossamer are you seeing this shit-” 

Turning around, you see… the absence of your familiar.

“Gossamer?”

Oh shit.

There’s a quasit loose in the building.

SHIT.

(LINE BREAK) 

You are. 

So fucked. 

So unbelievably, terribly fucked. 

Of course, you’re currently the only member of staff with a specialty in necromancy. There’s a little job security in that, at least - most necromancers tend to be blowhards trying to reverse engineer their way into immortality, or are so terribly delusional about the blackness of their own hearts that nobody can stand to be around them for more than twenty minutes. And, yeah, okay, you’re also a professional. You get along with most of the faculty, and your small group of necromantic majors are doing well.

But, unfortunately, you’re hardly any more tenured than Gale. 

You’ve got a scant few months on the man, and if you don’t find your damned quasit who, by all means, has a penchant for mayhem, you’re absolutely, totally, irrevocably fucked. 

As discreetly as possible, you wander the halls of Blackstaff between your classes. 

Righting random wrongs that you’re almost certain are just normal wear and tear, but can’t be certain enough to leave well enough alone. Explaining that you were taking a much needed break when in reality you were doing your best to alleviate the damage you’re at least ninety percent sure is your familiar’s fault before someone actually realizes what’s happened. 

Thank the gods for the mending cantrip. 

Regardless, it unfortunately leaves you with a terrible headache, as your  last classes of the night（well, some stereotypes are true, at least.）filter out into the hallway. You roam about again, your… well, probably eighth trip into the hallway going just about as well as the rest. Even as the early morning light filters into the halls through the large windows, you really just can’t find the beauty in it. Not with that terrible headache beginning to grind at your skull. 

Like a nagging, angry voice in the back of your- 

”Can’t believe how immature-” 

”Ignoring me, really?”

Oh. 

Wait, no, that’s actually just Gale. 

Turning around just in marvelous time to peek back around the corner of the corridor, you get to watch Gale go completely off the deep end. Throwing his arms up in frustration, you joyously watch with immense satisfaction as the grown man kicks a gods damned doorstop. 

Amazing. 

”Did the doorstop jump out at you?” You can’t help but smirk. I hear those are prone to do that.

”Oh yes, very funny,” Gale grouses. Watching happily as his face twists in a soured exasperation. ”For the record, I know it was you in my office last night. I don’t know how you got in, considering I have that door locked by both mundane and magical means.”

Actually, it had been really easy. 

A bit of lockpicking you’d picked up could have come in handy if you didn’t just… you know. Have the knock spell prepared. 

…oh shit maybe he found the glitter.

”I have no idea what you’re talking about Dekarios,” you lie. ”I’ve been teaching all night.”

”Really?” Gale deadpans. ”That’s what you’re going with? You’ve been ‘teaching all night’? And I’m supposed to believe that.”

”You can believe what you want Dekarios. I haven’t been in your office.”

”Really, you’re going to play this game?” Gale asks, eyebrow arched. ”Who else in this bloody school enjoys bright colors as much as you? And so help me, don’t you dare blame Tara again. My tressym has more maturity in a single claw than I think you have in your entire body.”

…shit he did find the glitter.

”I love Tara. I would never blame her…more than once. But in my defense, she did help me that one time.”  Huffing softly, you cross your arms, feeling heat rise in your cheeks. ”Anyway, it was just a bit of glitter-”

”Just a -” Gale goes positively red in the face at that. ”Just a bit of glitter? I’d say you did a fair bit more than putting just a little glitter on my lecture notes. The ones I’m to use for my first class in a scant two hours, mind you. A little glitter my behind, look at this and you tell me if you can understand a damned thing on the page.”

…huh?

”Huh?” 

Staring at Gale’s notebook, which is now helpfully shoved in your face, you can see… fuck all. The neat handwriting that you’re intimately familiar with is completely scrawled over with your favorite crayon color. 

Huh. 

“I- okay I do now see how this looks.” You sweat, giving a nervous grin. “But I was… okay I was in your office, but I swear it wasn’t to ruin your lecture notes. I misplaced someo- something, and I was rummaging around to try and find it.”

“You were… rummaging around my office.”

“Yes.”

“For something important. Something that you misplaced.”

“Yes.”

“And it just so happened to be that you lost it in my office.”

“Again, yes.”

You watch Gale’s jaw clench, as he takes a steadying breath. 

“Now, just to be clear. Most people would take locked doors as a sign that certain rooms aren’t meant for them.” Gale drawls, arching an eyebrow. “But as you so eloquently put it, you chose to open the locked door to my office, and rummage around.”

“You’ve got it.”

“And just what, exactly, is it that you lost?”

“It’s ah…” you trail off nervously. “Well it’s not something I think you’d be able to find easily. It’s a bit… tricky like that.”

“Is it… a ring? Or perhaps another piece of jewelry? Something small, you mean?”

“No…” you wince. “I mean, yeah it’s a little small but it’s… the problem is it can move around.“

“It can…“ You watch Gale’s mind begin to whirr, working in overtime to solve the riddle you’ve accidentally just given him. Just when you begin to think you might be able to give him the slip and run for it, you watch Gale’s face contort in horror. “Tabby.“

“Don’t call me that-“

“Tabby.“ Gale begins, voice choked. “Do you mean to tell me. That you let Gossamer run loose in my office?“

“Let her is a strong phrase!“ You hiss, pulling Gale into your classroom. Looking around wildly before you shut the door. “She ran off last night while I was- well one of my skeletons was about to punch a hole in a desk while rearranging, and I was ranting to her, and then I turn around and I see the door open.“

“And you didn’t follow her?!“

“She’s a fucking quasit! She can turn invisible!“

“And -“

Ah. 

“What did you just realize?, Gale asks with a distinct tone of dread.“

Quickly opening and rummaging through the drawers of you desk, you look for your stationary. 

“You didn’t. Tell me. You didn’t.“

After the great ink war at age eight, it had been a requirement that all familiars and summons were to be kept away from stationary. And you had fully left the drawer open. Like a damned test. Taunting your poor, innocent little familiar like a succubus to a greasy teenage boy. 

“So,“ you begin. Holding up the crayon box that is, of course, missing your favorite color. “In my defense, I thought I locked the drawer.“

“You. You’re-“ Gale sputters. “You’re telling me, right now, that your familiar, who can turn invisible was let loose on the building with stationary.“

“…yes.“

“Dear Mystra, Tabby do you know what you’ve done to us?“

You can feel a twinge of something you are definitely not going to examine when he says her name, and push it down. Opting to focus on the anger bubbling in your chest. That you can handle. That is familiar. 

“I said stop calling me tha-“

Oh gods.

“Please tell me there isn’t more.“ Gale whispers, face pale as he sees the thought cross your mind. “Please, for the love of everything that is holy, there is not more.” 

“Well, you wince. I may have been ah… rambling this morning. And now I realize this may have been targeted because you… maybe came up.“

“Rambling. You were… rambling.“ Gale stares at you, as though you’ve just told him he’s become king of the possums that live behind the dorms because of an electoral vote. “To your notoriously spiteful familiar. For, I presume, long enough for her to not only find a way into my office, which was locked. With normal and magical means. And then had enough time after that to find my notebook, which contains my important class notes. Then draw all over them.“

“That is what you’re telling me.“

“Well technically I was - I really only turned around for a minute, but I had no clue she was going to run off to your office.“

“Now, just to be extremely clear. You said I may have come up. And you genuinely, for some reason thought she would not retaliate.“

“I complain about everyone Dekarios, don’t get a big ego.“ You huff, throwing a hand in the air. I’ve complained about you for years, why would I think she’d do anything about it now?!”

“You’ve complained about me for years?” Gale nearly shouts, voice raising at least an octave. “Years?!”

“We’ve known each other since we were four Gale!” You hiss back, throwing your hands in the air. “Is it really so hard to imagine that you may come up from time to time when I’m complaining?” 

“I have never uttered a bad word about you to Tara you should-” 

“Oh that is bullshit I talk to Tara,” you bite back. “And I know that you complain about me even if you don’t realize it.”

“I do not.”

“You do, and I know it for a fact because she brought it up when I talked to her last! In the middle of her complaining about your beard.” 

“Tara did what?” Gale asks, flabbergasted as he looks at you.

“She has some very strong opinions.” 

You did too… even if yours trended far more towards the opposite of the tressym, of course.

“Please,” you snort, misunderstanding Gale’s look of horror. “You can’t tell me that she hasn’t outright said it to you before.” 

“That is…” Gale scowls, looking away from you as he puts a hand on his beard. “Very hurtful. And none of Tara’s business.” 

You open your mouth to speak, and Gale cuts you off with a wave of his hand. 

“That’s not the point. The point is that my notes are ruined. The notes I, may I remind you, need for my next class. And while you may not write lecture notes, I do.” 

You sigh.

Tuning Gale’s ranting out for a moment, you rub at the back of your neck, already feeling a knot forming. Gods above, you do feel guilty. 

Stupid Gale and his stupid attractive beard. 

“I’m sorry,” you grit out. Almost pained. “I… did not ruin your notes, but I do know that it’s my fault since Gossamer did. I’m sorry.” 

Gale is silent for a long moment. 

You can see the surprise on his face, the anger slowly, reluctantly fading. It’s hard to pick apart the emotions on his face, but you like to think you’re slightly better at it than most, but there’s an unreadable emotion you don’t think you’ve seen before.

Strange. 

“I…” Gale sighs. “It wasn’t so much work. I should, in theory, be able to redo most of them before my first class.” 

“Let me help.” 

“Excuse me?”

“I…” you sigh, rubbing your hand on your face and brushing a bit of hair out of your face. “It’s my fault. I know it might disrupt your lesson plan, but I can take over your first class. You can send them to my classroom so they can focus and I’ll do a lesson about some of the overlap between our schools of wizardry.” 

“That is…” Gale nods hesitantly. “That would be most appreciated.” 

You nod again, a bit awkwardly. 

The silence in the room is palpable, and you try to ease the tension a bit. 

“Not like I have many classes,” you laugh. Turning to look through the bookshelf behind your desk. Anything to keep you busy and not focus on the weight in the room. “Necromancy isn’t nearly as popular as Evocation, after all.” 

“Yes well,” Gale laughs, and you see him sit on the corner of your desk. “I imagine some large number of students may be put off by the heart of the curriculum. After all, raising the dead does seem a tad… unsavory.” 

You scowl, rolling your eyes - but fighting back a smile. 

The age old argument between the two of you. 

“Yes well, you can complain all you want about how unsavory raising the dead is. But it’s incredibly useful when you can turn two zombies into a horde of undead and turn the tide for your allies. I mean, the ones that are transformed from your original two aren’t meant to last, but still. More targets to hit, but more firepower that can take a total sweep of your allies to a triumph with no casualties.” 

“Yes but it’s quite… well, the ethics leave something to be desired.” 

“There are ways to ethically source your minions.” You laugh, waving a hand. “Don’t get me wrong, I can understand why someone might find it distasteful but you know not all necromancers rob the graves of innocent townsfolk. If you’ve got a horde of enemies, all you need do is help your allies kill two enemies, and then, well, the process I’ve already explained.” 

“You’re making it sound like you’ve done battle before.” Gale snorts, crossing his arms over his stupid chest, his sleeves rolled up his forearms. “Not that this is all theory.” 

You pause, hand on the spine of a tome. 

Hesitating, you pluck it from the shelf. 

“Because I have,” you deadpan. Not looking at Gale. “I was an adventurer before I joined the faculty here. I’m a professor because of my battle experience and practical application than just my theories, Dekarios.” 

That… makes Gale pause.

You can hear the gears turning wildly in his head, grinding intensely as he processes the words. 

He’s silent for nearly a full minute before he speaks again. 

“You… you’re an adventurer?” 

“Was,” you correct, turning to set the books on your desk. Unable to quite bring yourself to look him in the eye, you pretend that you’re checking the contents of the book. “I was an adventurer. I might do it again in the future, but that depends on how I feel and if any of the parties I’ve run with have need of a spellcaster of my caliber.” 

“You… haven’t told me that before.” 

An ugly, angry part of your heart stirs. 

Deep in your chest, you feel it claw its way up into your throat. The bitter, acrid taste that you’ve come to know so well. 

“Yes well, when have you ever asked?” 

“Don’t…” Gale begins, and you hear him sigh. “I simply… we’ve known each other for years. How was I to know you still had secrets to hide?” 

The black smoke of rage curls back up into your throat. Gnashing teeth and dragging claws. It hurts, snaking its tendrils around your heart in an ugly grip. Maybe if you were a little stronger, a little better, a little less… you… maybe you wouldn’t let it escape. Perhaps you’d just let it sit there and burn in your lungs. Or maybe you’d be honest, vulnerable. 

But you aren’t. 

“It’s not exactly a secret, Gale.” You snort, though the sound isn’t mirthful at all. “It was my primary income source for five bloody years.” 

Silence meets your words.

“Why didn’t you tell me then?” Gale asks, just when you’re about to look up at him and see if he’s still paying attention. “If you spent five years as an adventurer, you’d think I’d have heard about it.” 

“Ah, yes,” you nearly snarl. “Telling you. Would you have preferred I mentioned it between the paragraphs where you talked about your goddess lover like a lovesick puppy? Because I certainly couldn’t have mentioned it during the time you locked yourself in your tower for over a year because she dumped you.” 

You laugh, the sound bitter. 

Turning angrily, you ignore the look on Gale’s face. 

There’s a line you’ve crossed, and you know it. But the anger doesn’t subside. And you… don’t care anymore. 

(That’s not true, you do care. You care too much, you think. Too terribly much.)

“Oh, maybe I should have sent the update letter while you had an ilithid tadpole swimming in your skull. I’m sure Tara would have loved to deliver that letter to you.” 

Gale… flinches.

Huh. 

“You know,” he begins, anger rising in his own voice. Red hot. “It’s not like you’ve ever asked me how I’m doing. I don’t even know how you found out-” 

“Oh don’t you pull that shit with me Dekarios, I’m not the one who stopped responding to your letters. It’s the other way around.” 

“You- you only responded with one sentence half the time!” Gale stands, throwing his arms out as you slam the book in your hands shut. “I was lucky if you even responded for months!” 

You feel like a cornered animal. 

Gods you hate this man. 

Why does he always know how to get under your skin? 

“And what was I supposed to say Gale?” You demand. Knowing you’re crossing the line but needing to get the reaction that you’re looking for out of him. A sick, twisted part of you needs him to hurt like he’s hurting. “Congratulations on getting with the goddess who groomed you?” 

“It’s my life! It has absolutely nothing to do with you!” 

“Oh your life, that’s fucking rich Gale!” You shout, getting a little closer, leaning forward on your desk to point a finger at his chest. “What, you wanted me to sit by and say nothing about the matter? To watch my - to watch you love a goddess who is renowned for dating young boys? A woman who - again no disrespect to Mystra herself she’s a powerful goddess, I just don’t agree with her choices as is my right - dropped you the moment she was done with you?” 

You stare at Gale expectantly, waiting for any expression to twist on his face than the defensive rage you already see. 

“Yeah, I’ll be sure to note that down for next time. Next time, I won’t be supportive of you, I won’t just try and be nice or as nice as I can be. Next time, when you do something stupid I’m not going to even try to bail you out. No more sending loot to feed your orb, no more-” 

“Wait,” Gale interjects, an expression on his face you don’t quite understand. “Are you telling me…” 

You watch Gale’s hands clench into fists at his sides. 

“Are you telling me that you brought me items full of the weave while I was locked in my damn tower?” 

Ah.

Shit.

You… hadn’t meant to say that.

Shit.

Shit shit shit shit shit.

“I-” 

“You’re telling me…” Gale laughs, hands coming to cover his eyes as his head tilts back. “You’re telling me that you snuck items into my tower?!”

That…

Well it sounds… bad when he phrases it like that. 

“It’s not- I just knew you needed the items Gale! I had Tara take them inside and put them in spots to make them look forgotten.” 

“And you didn’t say anything, why?!” 

Because you… 

Fuck.

You can barely think it without hot shame washing down your back. Face warm, eyes hot. 

Like you’re about to cry. 

“It’s not important Gale,” you deflect. “You got the items, why does it matter?” 

“It’s not important?” Gale shouts in response. “Me dying wasn’t bloody important?!” 

“That’s not - that’s not what I meant and you know it!”

“Oh? And what is it that you meant?” 

Gods.

Don’t cry.

“I meant,” you begin. “That I didn’t want credit for it! I wasn’t doing it to curry favor or something, you needed the items and that was all that mattered to me!” 

In fact, you’d exclusively taken your cut of some adventures in magical items. Instead of gold lining your pockets, you’d worked on getting more and more loot, some you’d keep to get better jobs, and the rest you sent back home- back to Gale. He’d even shut out his mother during that time, the only person you could trust to get the items to him had been Tara. Who had promised not to say a word, the damned angel. 

Even more, you’d spent countless hours researching. 

Working yourself to the bone, searching through texts. Any mention of Karsus had immediately gone to the top of your list.

“I don’t care if you didn’t want credit, I was dying!” Gale shouts. “I spent a year in that tower with nobody to talk to. Thinking every day I was losing my mind, damn near insane with the knowledge that if I failed I would take all of Waterdeep with me, and you knew?!” 

Gale laughs again, the sound harsh against your ears. 

“What the hells is wrong with you?” 

Tears do prick your eyes now, and you scrub angrily at them with the back of your hand. 

“What’s wrong with you?!” You snap back, pushing angrily at Gale’s chest. “It’s not like you ever reached out! I had to find out from Tara, who was beside herself with worry!” 

“Of course I wasn’t reaching out! What was I supposed to have said? That I was losing my mind? Should I have just sent a letter saying ‘oh, hello, how’s your life going. I know it’s been awhile, but I’m dying and my life is falling apart’ and then went on to describe the weather?!” 

“Yes!” Gods you feel like every word is a pulled tooth. “Yes! You should have! Anything! Why on Toril didn’t you?” 

“Oh, and why would you have helped me?” Gale spits, letting you push him back a step before getting even closer than before. “Do you really think I’d have thought you’d have done anything but laugh at me and tell me I deserved it? That I was the biggest fool in the history of the Arcane?”

It’s like a bucket of cold water has doused you. 

Ice dripping down your spine, heart turned to stone in your chest, sinking deep into your gut. 

“Is that what you think of me?” You ask, voice low. “You think I’m so cruel, that I’m so heartless, that I’d have laughed in your face while you died?” 

“Of course you could be that cruel.” Gale spits, proverbial venom dripping from his lips. “I’ve seen you be cruel. You’ve made me look a fool a thousand times over for a laugh.” 

You stare at Gale, face turning cold. 

Expression neutral. 

You feel fucking sick. 

“Okay.” 

“I- okay?” Gale says, confusion etched into his face. “What do you mean okay?” 

“I mean, okay.” You say, already building a wall around your heart. “Get out of my classroom. I heard what you have to say, now get out.” 

“Excuse-” 

“No. Get out.” 

“You’re just… kicking me out.” 

“I am.” 

Gale stares at you, expression unreadable. 

Then, you watch his eyes cast over to the windows, and then down at the watch he pulls from his pocket. 

“Fine,” Gale spits, taking a step towards the door. His gaze locked onto you. “But we are not done talking about this.” 

“Sure,” you huff. “Later.” 

With a flick of your wrist, and a muttered incantation, you cast mage hand. Slamming the door behind him before flicking up an Arcane Lock. 

The moment you think you’re alone… Gossamer appears. 

A big smile on her face, a crayon in hand… and you just…

You just.

Sob.

//

You have a good week of peace. 

(It’s not good. It can never be good again.) 

You’re careful, between your days off, and your odd hours for the necromancy classes, to avoid Gale. 

But today is just not your day. 

“Professor Dekarios,” you say evenly in acknowledgement. Watching Gale enter the room while you’re wrapping up your final lesson of the day. “What can I help you with?” 

Gale is silent for a moment, aware of the eyes on him. The students of various ages that are watching with rapt attention. 

“May I have a word?” Gale asks, voice clipped. 

God you want to run. 

You have misty spell prepared. One of the windows is open to let in the afternoon breeze, and you’ve got a clear shot out into the open campus. You could do it, you just know it - 

“Sure,” you say instead, knowing exactly how that’s going to look if you do end up running from your own damned classroom. You’re already on thin ice from letting Gossamer run amok when you could have dismissed her. Which you. Completely forgot about. “My class will be done in just about fifteen minutes if you’d like to come back.” 

“That’s quite alright, actually.” Gale smiles, and gods. You’re fucked. “I’m happy to observe.” 

And he watches.

Waiting. 

You don’t stutter when you go over the homework for the evening - you don’t - and remind your class about the project that’s due two classes from now. Even more than that, you don’t stumble and your hands don’t shake. Certainly, you don’t stall by shutting both the window and the curtains. And, above all you don’t activate the wards in the classroom to make it soundproof and lock the door once all the students are gone. 

Those are all things that just happen to occur for different reasons. 

And still, Gale stands, leaning against the wall by the door. Arms crossed over his chest as you go back to your desk. Silent as the grave (if the pun can be forgiven) as you slowly sift through your mail instead of giving him the time of day. Both of you waiting to see who would break first. 

“So?”

“So what, Professor Dekarios?” You ask neutrally, carefully not reading the source of the letter in your hand before you open it. “You’ll have to be a bit more specific.” 

“You know damn well what I’m talking about.” 

“I really don’t, actually. You will have to be more specific.” 

“Really?” Gale asks, eyebrow arched, voice low. “You don’t think, in the slightest, this might be about something you know?” 

You shrug, continuing to read the letter that’s… what even is it about. Some sort of promotion? No it’s- 

“You kicked me out of your classroom.” Gale hisses. “And you have been avoiding me.” 

“I have not been avoiding you.” Lies. “I’ve been busy. It’s not my fault you always seem to try and speak to me while I’m not here.” 

“You can’t-” 

You don’t watch Gale’s face contort with anger, don’t watch his fingers ball up into fists as his sides. But you know him well enough to imagine it, even as the splotches of ink all blur together on the page you’re holding.

“Fine, you weren’t avoiding me. Then why did you kick me out of your classroom?” 

“We weren’t having a productive conversation,” you answer simply. A week had given you time to re-build up the wall you usually afforded strangers, rather than the man you- “And so it was, in my professional opinion, the best for us to call it there.” 

“A productive- of course we weren’t having a productive conversation, I was trying to understand why you were hiding things behind my back, and you just tried to throw the blame at my feet-” 

“Professor Dekarios if we can’t-” 

“And stop calling me that!” Gale hisses, slamming his hand on your desk. You jolt - when had he gotten so close? “I’ve never been Professor Dekarios to you, don’t start that now.” 

“What’s done is done, Professor.” You continue, digging your hand into the fabric of your top. “I tried to explain myself, and you wouldn’t listen-” 

“Oh that is rich-” 

“And so I thought it best-” 

“You thought it best to stonewall me?” Gale asks incredulously, talking over you. A pang of irritation cuts through you, but you think you hide it fairly well. “Because that’s what you’ve been doing. You’ve been defensive and-” 

Gale stops, and gods.

You hate the face he makes. 

The dawning realization in his eyes.

You know that expression, you’ve seen it thousands of times. For good or ill, you’ve seen that face all your life. 

“That’s what this is about.” 

“What are you talking about?” You drawl, trying to keep some sort of neutral expression on your face. “Lay it out plainly, professor.” 

“You’re trying to shut me out.” 

Ah hells. 

“You- you’re upset.” 

A genius. 

Truly.

“You’re upset.” Gale repeats, arms crossing over his chest as a flat laugh escapes his lips. “You’re upset and you’re trying to make me leave.” 

“Gods I wonder what gave you that idea.” 

“No, no you’re hurt.” Gale cuts through, gripping the edge of your desk so tight that you can see his knuckles go white in the periphery of your vision. “So you’re trying to be some… cruel, heartless person to make me leave.” 

“I’m trying to be professional.” You frown. “Our… conversation last week made me realize I wasn’t. I’ll endeavor to be better in the future.” 

“Oh you’re not fooling me.” Gale’s hand comes down to rip the letter from your hands when you look down at it. “I know you’re not reading some… some school newsletter about what they’re serving in the mess hall in the evenings.” 

“Yes I am,” you huff. 

Oh so that’s what that was. 

Damn you actually should have read that - you really could use the staff meals if it’s something you can stomach. 

“No, you’re not.” Gale asserts. “Now look at me.”

Rolling your eyes, you pull another letter from the pile and begin to look it over, reaching for your letter opener when Gale rips the damned thing from your hand. Ignoring your noise of protest. His hand coming up to - honestly kind of gently - grab your chin. Brows furrowed in anger as you’re stunned into silence.

“Look at me!”

You… holy shit.

You cannot process this.

Blinking dumbly, for the first time in years, Gale has rendered you speechless. 

“There,” he grits out. “Now you have to look me in the face while you lie to me.” 

“I’m not-” 

“You are.” 

“I am not!” You grunt, irrationally choosing to clamber up onto your desk, papers scattering as you try to reach for the letters in Gale’s hands. Hoping it will give you an advantage with a little more height. “I am trying to be professional! You- you horrible man!” 

“Oh yes, I’m so terrible because I-” 

“Because you’re a bastard!” You hiss, snapping your teeth at Gale in warning. The two of you were no longer children, but gods this reminds you of then. And, unfortunately for Gale, you’re still a biter. “Give me my mail!” 

It doesn’t take long for the spat to turn ruthless, Gale yanking the letters from your hand so hard you end up toppling over onto his feet. Ramming straight into his knees, which in turn sends him tumbling to the ground with a matching groan. 

“Ow.” 

“Are you alright?” Gale asks with a soft huff, rubbing at his shoulder when he sits up. “ Didn’t hit your head, did you?” 

“No,” you answer honestly, just like when the two of you were kids and trying to assess the damage before you went home. The anger of the moment briefly fading. “I’m fine.” 

“Good.” 

“And you?”

“I’m fine.” 

“Good.”

Silence reigns for a moment. 

“I don’t know why you-” Gale sighs. “You know you’re being ridiculous, right? Just be honest with me.” 

“I already tried to tell you.” You huff, rubbing at your face with the back of your hand. “It doesn’t matter.” 

“Doesn’t matter?” Gale asks, eyebrow arched. “You’re being a complete ass to me for no reason. Do you just enjoy being cruel?” 

A shard of ice pierces straight through the walls you’ve painstakingly tried to build. But one week isn’t enough time to shut Gale out. Not when he’s had years and years to get under your skin like nobody else could. 

“Yeah,” you answer with a shrug. Standing up and brushing yourself off. “Sure Gale. I do enjoy being cruel. Cruel and twisted and sadistic and all the horrible things you think of me.” 

“You-” 

Gale stops, stunned into silence. 

He opens his mouth and closes it, and you can watch… something build in his eyes. Anger? It must be, you realize, when you see the tips of his ears turn red. 

“You’re trying to make me stay away from you.” 

“No, I’m not.” You lie again, shrugging as you lean back against your desk. “You’ve just made it abundantly clear what you think of me. I’m not trying to change your mind anymore.” 

“That’s not-” 

Gale falls silent, and you watch the emotions play out on his face. 

This time you choose not to think about it.

“It’s fine, Dekarios.” You say flatly. “I’ve heard it before. I know what I am.”

Gale winces. 

“You can’t honestly think you’re-” 

“Heartless? Cruel? A monster?” You ask, arching an eyebrow. “Gale I’m a necromancer. Of course I am those things. I get the job done.” 

Gale stares at you, eyes unreadable, and you can feel the terrible, terrible feelings return. Everything that you’d ever been scared about as a child comes bubbling right back up to the surface. Betrayal burns hot in your chest. And- 

“What the fuck!” You choke out, jolting as Gale pushes you back into the desk. You go toppling on top of it, back pressed flat as he pins his hands by your head. “What has-” 

“You do care what I think about you,” Gale says, and you freeze. His voice is… it’s not quite surprised. Soft, but not- he speaks again before you can finish your thoughts. “You actually do.” 

“No I don’t.” 

“You do,” Gale says, just a bit breathless. God, is that… pity in his voice? That’s just enough- “You actually do.” 

Anger rises up like hot bile in your throat, and you feel tears prick in your eyes. 

“What, do you want a fucking medal?” You ask, eyes watery. “Just laugh at me. Get it over with so we can both move on.” 

“Move-” Gale blinks, and you recognize the anger in his eyes. “Move on?” 

“You think so little of me,” you spit, jabbing a finger into Gale’s chest above you. “Go ahead, laugh. Laugh at the stupid little beast who cared.” 

“Is that what you think?” Gale mirrors your words from days before, and it catches you off guard. “You think I view you as some… some heartless beast.”

“Clearly!” You bite out. “You all but said it outright.” 

“I don’t-” Gale blinks, eyes owlishly wide. “I didn’t mean that.” 

“Didn’t-” 

You choke on your own laughter, and decide to pretend it isn’t sobs. 

“Didn’t mean it? I spend years of my life trying to keep you alive, not telling you because I knew you’d reject the help.” You choke out, hot tears slipping down the sides of your face. “I didn’t want credit. And I try to tell you that, and the takeaway you got really did seem to be that I didn’t care.” 

“I-” 

“And now I know why! You fucking hate me!” 

“I don’t hate you!” Gale shouts, and gods, you do idly think about how glad you are for the soundproofing. “How the hells could I hate you?” 

“You sure sounded like it!”

“I don’t-” Gale begins again, before stopping. Realization dawning on his face again. “Gods. Gods you believe it. You believe I hate you.” 

“No shit!” You choke out, bringing your hand up to angrily scrub at your eyes. “Clearly you hate me! And I think so fucking highly of you. Even now, I-” 

“I’m an idiot.” Gale says plainly, the calm stupor in his voice enough to stop you dead in your tracks. “Gods, I am an idiot.” 

“What?” 

Eyes unreadable, Gale stares at you. 

And then - and then - 

Oh.

His lips are on yours. 

Head twisting, sealing both of your lips together in a heavy, hot kiss. Teeth clacking awkwardly with the force of it, Gale swallowing the sound you make as one of his hands comes up to grip your hair. 

Your eyes flutter shut, your own hand coming up to tangle in the locks at the back of Gale’s head. 

Gods this is…

Everything. 

You never- 

You shiver as your legs wrap around Gale’s waist as he kisses you. Desperate, hungry, like a man deprived of everything and given a meal for the first time in his life. He presses his body into yours like he wants to merge them into the same being. Getting lost in the kiss, you can hardly tell who’s doing what, your own actions, your own need, far outweighing the logical portion of your brain. 

Hands clutching and pulling and grabbing. 

Gale grinds against you and you nearly see stars - by the noise he makes, you’re pretty sure it’s the same for both of you. 

When the two of you finally part for air, your breathing is ragged, heavy gasps that match Gale’s own. Dazed, as your foreheads press together. Sharing the same air in a dizzyingly tender moment. 

“You,” Gale pants against your cheek, eyes half lidded in a way that makes your toes fucking curl. “I- again. Again.” 

You nod, desperately. 

“Please.” 

His mouth is on yours again, too much and not enough all at once. 

You roll your hips up into Gale’s again, groaning at the friction. Your hands are still tangled in Gale’s hair, heat rolling th-

“Oh fuck!” You gasp when Gale yanks your head back and to the side, mouth moving to your neck with a desperate fervor. Intentionally bucking his hips into yours harder. The angle making it easy for him to do so. “Gale-” 

“You-” Gale swallows thickly, nipping at your neck, his free hand coming to clutch your hip. “You drive me insane. Do you know that?” 

“I-” 

“You drive me insane, every damned day,” Gale growls out, body rolling against yours again. Pulling a high, needy whine from you. Gods, you’re rutting like teenagers and Gale is still fucking talking. “The things- the things you’ve made me want.” 

“I thought-” you choke. “I didn’t think you wanted me. I- fuck, you, I’ve wanted you for so long. And I just never, never thought-” 

“Never thought what?” Gale grinds out, voice hoarse as he bites down harder, sucking a hickey into your neck. “That you’d unravel me? Tear me apart at the seams? Make me ache for you, need you?” 

Oh fuck. 

God. 

Why is he so hot. 

“You didn’t-” Gale groans, leaving you breathless with each roll of his clothed hips against yours. “You didn’t know I’ve wanted you for months now, did you? Dreamed about touching you, just like this.” 

“Gods,” you choke out, feeling like you’re going out of your damned mind as your face feels like it’s on fire. Nearly dizzy with desire as you admit the things you’ve thought out loud. “I’ve wanted you for so long. Can’t… gods, Gale.” 

“You have no idea the images you put in my head,” Gale pants, uneven as he begins to struggle for the words. Groaning when you tug at his hair as he kisses your neck. “The things that I’ve wanted to do to you, to do with you.” 

“I think- I think I might have an idea,” you admit softly, legs wrapping tighter around Gale’s waist. “If they’re any- fuck - any similar to my own.” 

Gale groans at that. 

Teeth clamping down hard against your neck. 

“If you did,” he rasps. “I can guarantee they’re much filthier than you think.” 

And fuck, that sends a hot bolt of lightning through your gut. You feel yourself clench around nothing, a high, reedy whine pulling from your throat again. 

“Fuck.” You gasp. “Show me?” 

“You really,” Gale chokes out, moving back from your neck to grab your hips with both hands. Grinding down harshly against your aching core. “You really want to know what I think about, when I look at you?” 

“Yes. Yes, please-” 

Yanking your shirt up, you can hear the pop of stitching even as you try and assist. Bra coming with as Gale takes a handful of your chest into his palm. Fingers tweaking a nipple as you gasp, throwing the damned shirt across the room or something. You aren’t really sure, and it doesn’t matter. 

“Gods,” Gale whispers, almost reverently. Tracing his hands over your skin, leaning down to place kisses wherever he can, speaking between them. “Gods just look at you. So beautiful. So lovely.” 

“You have no idea what you do to me like this.” 

Your hands grip Gale’s forearms tight, as he holds you, giving a soft squeal when he nips at one of your nipples, sucking it into his mouth. A chuckle pulling from his lips while his hand tweaks the other.

“Fuck you can’t-” you choke. Squirming, unable to press your thighs together because Gale godsdamned Dekarios is between them. “Can’t just do that-” 

“Do what?” Gale asks, pressing another soft kiss to your lips. “Say how perfect you look beneath me? Tell you that every whine, every breath, every sound makes me want to ruin you?” 

“Holy shit,” you choke, jolting against Gale. You move, tugging desperately at his shirt. “Nine hells take your fucking shirt off Dekarios.” 

Gale has the audacity to laugh at that, pulling his shirt over his head with the same desperation you had. Tossing it somewhere you didn’t care about in the room, before moving to curl his fingers in your waistband. 

You nod, at the look he gives you. 

When he stays still, you groan. 

“Oh my god,” you huff. “Consent, hot, yes, get my fucking pants off before I soak through them.” 

“Let me appreciate the moment,” Gale smirks, but complies. Yanking off your shoes, pants, and underwear as quickly as possible to join schrodinger's clothing pile somewhere in your classroom. “You make me crazy, gods, you truly do. The thoughts I have…” 

“Show me then,” you taunt, rolling your hips into Gale’s, whining when you realize his pants are still on, the bastard.

“You truly want to know?” Gale grunts, his hand instead coming down to your thighs, holding them open as he presses a thumb, unmoving, right over your clit. “You want to know how badly I’ve daydreamed about you?” 

You choke on your answer, hips jolting as Gale moves his thumb, but Gale just presses your hips down against your desk harder. 

“You want to know how I’ve dreamed of you? Woke up with the taste of you in my mouth? Woke up to my own seed spilled in my underwear in the night?” Gale asks, punctuating his words with sharp movements of his thumb, his clothed cock grinding against your hole. He laughs, breathless, airy. “Like some desperate, hormone ridden teen?”

“F-fuck!” You gasp, every word going straight to your core. “Gods- just- I want you to ruin me.” 

“Don’t-” Gale chokes out, hips grinding against you. Trying to gain some sort of leverage, he slips a finger inside of you, watching your mouth go slack. “Don’t just say that. You’re going to break me, talking like that-” 

“I will say,” you groan, trying to remember words. “Whatever will get you inside of me faster.” 

“Don’t tease,” Gale chokes, slipping another finger inside. “I can’t take it.” 

“If I were teasing,” you choke out after a moment. “I would walk away.” 

A sound you’ve never heard Gale make leaves his lips, and you nearly squeal as Gale’s fingers move faster, his thumb rubbing harder. Watching every expression you make just to be sure. The kind of intensity you’ve seen him give spells - oh god. He’s taking this more seriously than you thought. 

“Don’t even threaten that,” he chokes out, teeth scraping against your neck as he leans down again. “I couldn’t- gods if you walked away-” 

“I wouldn’t,” you assure him, desperately shaking your head. “I wouldn’t- I was just teasing. Trying to- to show how - fuck! - how serious I - a-am.” 

“I would let you but gods would it break me,” Gale breathes, before sucking another hickey into your skin. He pulls his hand back, and you whine, shivering with need and desperation before Gale flips you onto your stomach. “Gods, just-” 

“Fuck,” you breathe, parting your thighs as Gale takes himself out of his pants. Tucking them down just enough before he’s lining himself up, and then slams into you. “Gale!” 

He pulls at your hips, arching you up into his touch. Snaking a hand around while he splays himself across your back. Fingers hot on your clit, Gale’s cock pounding in and out of you. 

You choke, eyes watering as your leg twitches. Pleasure spiking harshly in your lower belly. 

“Say it- say it again. Say my name again.” 

You nod, trying to arch back into Gale’s touch. 

“Gale!” You moan, your knuckles going white as you clutch at the desk. 

Gale continues to rub your clit, harsh, and fast, as he pounds into you, desperate fervor driving his every movement. Suddenly, he arches you back, pulling you up onto your knees so you’re leaned back against him. One arm securely wrapping around your middle, Gale continues to pound up into you. All words muted down to whines and grunts and moans. 

It doesn’t take long, not with how needy you both are, for you to cum around Gale’s cock, seeing stars when he pulls you down harshly against him. 

The two of you are left panting, your head leaned back, resting on Gale’s shoulder. His face coming to rest in the crook of your neck.

“Gods,” Gale breathes first, hands smoothing over your skin. “You look divine.” 

“I can barely think,” you grumble, tilting your head to press against his. “How are you still talking?” 

“You like when I talk.”

“I do.”

“Mn…” 

“I didn’t… think to…” 

“It’s fine.” You say, shaking your head. “I have a contraceptive ward.” 

“Oh thank gods.” Gale breathes. “It’s a bit too early to be talking about children.” 

“You mean after we fucked in my office after a fight?” 

“I do.” 

You laugh softly, relaxing into Gale’s touch a moment longer.

“We should get dressed,” you say softly. One hand coming up to play with Gale’s hair. “Actually… talk later.” 

“I know,” Gale nods pressing another kiss to your neck. “But do we really have to? Get dressed I mean.”

“Don’t do that,” you warn, drawing a groan from Gale when you involuntarily clench around him. “Or we’ll be here a lot longer.” 

“Mmmn… is that such a bad thing?” He asks, and you can practically feel the smile on his lips as he presses another kiss to your shoulder. “I quite like having you… so docile. In comparison.” 

“Don’t get used to it,” you warn softly, a smile on your lips. “But… if we get dressed, we can leave. Go to a real bed.” 

That gets Gale moving, even if it is reluctantly. His hands smoothing over your skin one last time before he pulls out of you, tucking himself back into his pants. You swallow thickly at the feeling, and Gale helps you step into your underwear and pants. Pulling your shirt over your head, and helping you fix your hair so that you don’t look quite so fucked out. 

“You know,” Gale hums softly, pressing a kiss to your ear. “We could always teleport to my tower. It’s a bit of an… irresponsible use of the planeshift spell, I must admit. But… I do have a rather large bed.” 

You hum, as though pretending to think. 

“I could be convinced,” you drawl teasingly. “For another kiss?”

Gale chuckles, and you smirk against his lips that are already on yours. 

“How could I possibly refuse that?” 

[vioartemis]

One last time

(Tara Carpenter x fem! Bridger! reader)

Summary: Amber and Richie planned on framing Sam and you for the 2022 massacre, as you were both daughters of past Ghostfaces. Only thing; the fans never get a happy end. Neither do you. Request is here :)) a/n: This is pretty short I'm sorry I couldn't come up with anything else 😭 Warnings: blood, injuries, death (reader), angst (English isn't my first language, I'm sorry if there are mistakes or if something doesn't make sense TvT)

“Imagine the headlines tomorrow: ‘Billy Loomis’ daughter went mad and killed her friends with the help of her accomplice, Roman Bridger’s daughter! The two wanted to pursue the legacy of their fathers.’ Now that’s what we want to see!” Amber said, holding a knife to your throat

Your little group was gathered in the kitchen of her house after Richie and her tried to kill you and exposed their plan.

“What are you talking about? Roman died in 2000, he doesn’t have a daughter.” Sidney said

“No one here is his daughter!” Tara yelled

Richie turned to you with a smirk on his face.

“Oh, you didn’t tell her did you? I thought you would’ve, when Sam confessed being Billy’s daughter”

All eyes were on you.

“Fuck you.” you spat at him

“Y/n…? He’s wrong right…? You’re not…” you gave Tara a guilty look “Oh my god… why didn’t you tell me…?”

“Because… because I didn’t want to lose you… I was scared you would leave me if you knew…!”

“How am I supposed to trust you…? You lied to me for more than two years! Two fucking years Y/n! How can I know you’re telling the truth? Maybe you’re with them. Maybe-“

“Don’t say that…” you started to tear up “Please don’t say that…”

She looked away from you, like she couldn't bear to see you again. That broke your heart.

Lying to your own girlfriend for two years hurt you too. You wanted to tell her, you tried multiple times. But every time the words got stuck in your throat.

“Ow sorry, I think we messed up your relationship…” Amber smirked at you

You didn’t think about her knife still on your throat and punched her in the face. No one saw it coming.

Sidney took this opportunity to take a kitchen knife and attacked Richie, too focused on you to defend himself.

Everyone started fighting everyone. It was a messy fight; everyone was a little confused by your sudden punch at Amber.

You tried to protect Tara from the fights, pushing her away when Richie tried to stab her. They made her question your relationship? Fine. You would make them pay for that. But the most important thing was keeping her safe.

At one moment, you got thrown against the counter. You got up quickly, but Amber was now ready to shoot you. When she pulled the trigger, Tara screamed.

“Aw come on, I’m like two meters away how can you miss such an easy shot?” you smirked at the killer

“Oh you…”

She was ready to try again, but Sidney slammed the hand sanitizer on her head, making her drop the gun.

Immediately you tried to take it, but Gale looked at you with suspicious eyes.

“Right, you don’t trust me”

You backed up, letting her take the gun.

Amber tried to explain herself and convince Gale not to shoot her, but she did it anyway. The girl fell on the stove and lit up.

“Holly shit…” you let out as she burned and fell on the floor

A scream was heard, coming from the hall. Everyone got out of the kitchen and ran to the hall, ready to help.

On your way there, you grabbed Sidney’s gun that slid into a corner earlier. Just in case.

When you arrived, Sam was standing in front of Richie’s dead body, covered in blood. She didn’t need help after all.

“Careful, they always come back” Gale said

Sam took the gun from her and shot Richie in the head.

You all sighed in relief, until you heard a scream behind you. Amber was still alive and was running toward you knife in hand.

Your body reacted before your brain could process what was happening. You shot her in the head before she could hurt anyone else.

“Y/n…” Tara said, next to you

“I know, I took the gun. I’m sorry, here” you drop it “I’m not with them I-“

“No you’re bleeding!”

“Hm?” you looked down. There was blood on your jeans. “Oh… yeah… I forgot about that…”

You were too focused on Tara’s well being you completely forgot about your own wounds. Multiple wounds.

You placed a hand on your stomach. It came back stained with blood. Your black shirt made it difficult to see you were bleeding.

All of a sudden, you collapsed on the floor, all your strength leaving you.

“Shit…” you groaned as the pain grew

Tara knelt beside you, concern written on her face. She lifted your shirt up to see where your were hurt. Three stab wounds and one bullet hole.

“When did you-“

The fight flashed before her eyes. When Richie was about to stab her you protected her. Three times. Then Amber tired to shoot you.

“You said she missed…!”

“Maybe I lied…”

You started coughing, blood coming out of your chest and mouth. Your girlfriend tried to stop the bleeding, applying pressure on your wounds.

"Sam call an ambulance!" she yelled at her sister before turning back to you "Y/n I'm sorry I told you that earlier... I didn't mean it I swear..."

"I know, I know..." you smiled weakly, putting a hand on her cheek and wiping her tears gently "It's okay my love... please don't cry... I want to see your smile one last time..."

"W-what do you mean 'one last time'...?"

"You can't save me Tara..."

"No no no no no..."

"C'mon... smile for me, my pretty girl..."

She held back her tears and cracked a weak smile.

"I love you so much..." you whispered, still smilling

"I love you too..."

You closed your eyes for a second, the light hurting you.

"Y/n...?" your arm fell slowly "Hey..." she shook you slightly "Baby please... Y/n...! Please wake up...! Don't leave me..."

She wanted to scream. You couldn't die. Not like that. Not now. You still had so many things to do...

"What about these holidays we talked about...? The amusement park...? The dates on the beach...? The sunsets you said we'd see together...? Y/n please..."

She couldn't admit it. Even months after. She still hoped you would come at her door one day, hug her, kiss her, take her hand and take her with you to some cool place you promised her to go.

But you never came.

Sometimes she dreamt about you. Waking up without you next to her was always heartbreaking. She kept the clothes you forgot in her closet. At first they still smelt like you. Not anymore.

It was like you really disappeared. Every trace of your presence slowly vanished.

Not the pictures though. Oh how much she cried looking at your selfies together, holding your favorite necklace tight in her hand. The one she gave you on your first anniversary. The one you never took off.

Everyone told her to move on, to see someone if she needed help. But she didn't need help. She needed you.

[bitethedevil]

Living with The Devil You Know (Raphael x Tav): Chapter 6

Chapter: one, two, three, four, five, six, seven, eight, nine, ten, eleven, twelve, thirteen, fourteen, fifteen, sixteen

Read this fic on AO3 (Link)

Fic Summary: Tav broke their agreement by handing the Crown of Karsus to Mystra instead of Raphael. Not only that, but she also robbed his house and killed his incubus. Raphael is patient and he is determined to get his revenge.

…Tav isn't too bothered. She will figure something out eventually. Until then she just has to find a way to live peacefully with a devil.

Chapter Summary: Raphael learns that Tav has been up to something. Tav is reminded of the reality of the situation she finds herself in and of who Raphael really is. She also learns that she is beginning to develop a bit of Stockholm Syndrome.

(AN: I can't believe we're already at Chapter 6. I think I started writing this fic early this month. I literally haven't thought of anything else since. I should really try touching some grass...)

TW: Mentions of Violence, Mentions of Blood.

Hope you are still alive and well. What is it that Raphael wants from us and what should we expect if he contacts us?

That was the message that she had received in the morning from Gale. She had to get a message back to her friends, though it would prove difficult as Cassius was watching her with the intensity of a predator waiting for its prey to move before it pounces.

She could take him easily. That was not the problem at all. The problem was that Cassius would not fall for the same trick and he would definitely tattle on her this time if she tried anything. She would have to be very discreet.

She got up from her chair and started slowly walking back and forth in the large main area of the house. Cassius narrowed his eyes at her.

“What are you doing?” he asked.

“Getting some exercise. It’s not like I can go out for a stroll, is it?” Tav answered and stretched her limbs.

“Sit down,” Cassius ordered.

“Free roam of the house~” Tav said, repeating what Raphael had promised her on her first day there. “You are supposed to follow me, not the other way around.”

“I can’t watch you if you keep pacing,” he said with a sneer. “Sit. Down.”

“No,” Tav said and kept walking at a leisurely pace.

There was a quiet growl of frustration from Cassius, but he did not get up from his chair, although he kept watching her intently.

She kept walking around the room, testing if he would get up from his chair if she turned her back on him. She could sense that he tensed up when she did, but he did not move. All she needed was a moment.

She turned her back on him once again. She quickly and quietly mumbled the message she had rehearsed in her mind for Gale.

Unfortunately, Cassius were on her before she could even say the incantation for the sending spell.

“You insolent little bitch,” he hissed.

He grabbed her hair and pulled her backwards, making her land on her back. She opened her mouth to say an incantation, but Cassius was fast. He punched her square in the face, and it took her by surprise. It was clear that he had just been waiting for an excuse to hurt her.

He held her arms down and muffled her with his hand.

“I can’t wait till he sees your true colors,” Cassius said and pressed down the hand that was over her mouth and nose, making it hard for her to breathe.

Tav bit his hand hard and then she worked fast: Thunderwave, Sleep spell.

Cassius flew back and slumped to the floor.

Tav was breathing hard. She closed her eyes for a moment to try and calm her pulse down a bit. She rubbed her face and when she withdrew it, she saw that there was a good amount of blood on it.

She got up from the floor and walked over to Cassius, before casting another spell that would ensure that he would keep sleeping for quite a while before getting up again.

Tav closed her eyes and said the message she would send to Gale:

The Orphic Hammer. I’m in chains. He is trying to lure you here to try and free me. Don’t come here under any circumstances.

She sent the message and then glanced at Cassius on the floor before sending another as well:

I’m safe and well. I’ll probably not be able to contact you any time soon. Too risky. Don’t worry about me. I’ll figure it out.

Tav sighed. She threw herself down in an armchair and called on one of the servants. The poor halfling woman who entered looked at Cassius’s unconscious body and then at Tav’s bloodied face with widened eyes. Tav smiled politely at her.

“Can you call Raphael here?” Tav asked.

“Yes, miss,” the halfling servant mumbled and nodded.

“Thank you.”

Tav waited and expected the worst when Raphael would come home.

Raphael was in his devil form when he returned home. He looked furious when he entered and saw his warlock unconscious on the floor. He looked even more pissed when his eyes went to Tav.

“Please…” Tav said and held her hands up in defense. “Let me explain…”

“Oh, you will,” Raphael said in a low voice and walked closer to her. “Talk.”

“The day after I got here, I incapacitated Cassius to cast a sending spell to my friends,” she explained hurriedly. “I convinced him not to tell you. Today I did it again. I am being upfront with you, because it’s not my intention to piss you off or to hide anything.”

The latter being a bit of a lie. She would not have told Raphael if she had not been caught in the act by Cassius, and he probably knew that she was only trying to come clean in order to get ahead of Cassius’s allegations.

Raphael’s eyes narrowed at her as he studied her bloodied face. He was quiet for a moment. It was tense and uncomfortable.  

“What did he do to you?” Raphael asked. He said it with eerie calmness, but she could hear the anger hiding right under the surface.

That was…not the question she had anticipated. She had been so busy saving her own ass, that she had not really considered the fact that Cassius might be in danger from getting punished as well. It was not that she had a lot of sympathy for the warlock, but she knew what Raphael was capable of doing to people, and she did not like the thought of being responsible for it.

“Oh this?” Tav asked and gestured to her face. Her nose was still slightly bleeding, and she felt that her cheek was starting to swell up slightly. “He only tried to hinder me from attacking him.”

Raphael's eyes narrowed even more.

“Mm…And why are you protecting him, Tav?” Raphael asked in a dangerous tone.

“I’m not,” she said with quietly. “It’s just…he was just doing his job.”

“I am well aware of his incompetence. His job was to call upon me should anything happen. Which he has failed to do twice, if what you are saying is correct,” Raphael said darkly and came closer. He grabbed her chin gently and turned her face to study her injuries. “I did not give him permission to harm you like this, so I will ask you again…Why are you protecting him?”

The intensity of Raphael’s stare and the tone of his voice made her nervous. She swallowed hard and her eyes flicked away from his gaze.  

For once, she actually felt like a little mouse, shaking under the paw of the cat, knowing that one wrong move could mean that its claws would sink into her.

“Do you care for him, is that it?” Raphael asked pointedly.

Her eyes went back to his and her brow furrowed at the odd question. Was that…jealousy she saw on his face?

“No,” she answered as if it was obvious. “I don’t. I’ve told you what I think of him before…it’s just…”

“Just what?” Raphael asked, his fiery eyes still boring into hers.

“I just…don’t want to be responsible for what you are going to do to him…” she answered in a quiet voice.

A sadistic smile flickered across his face for a brief moment.

“Do not worry yourself with such matters,” Raphael said in a slightly lighter tone and ran his thumb over her chin before his tone turned dark again. “Cassius, is responsible for what I am going to do to him.”

He let go of her chin and used the same hand to snap his fingers. Korrilla appeared in a flash of smoke and embers. It looked like she had been in the middle of something when she was whisked away. She looked at Tav and Raphael with slight confusion.

“Take her to the boudoir,” Raphael said to Korrilla and then looked at Tav to address her. “You and I will talk later.”

That little sentence and the tone of his voice made her hair stand on end.

Tav was pacing the room with an empty look in her eyes. She was not easy to scare, but now she was terrified of what Raphael might to do her. She had heard the sounds of when he sometimes punished the servants for disobeying his orders.

Whatever he would do to her, it would be personal. She had told Raphael too much. There was way too much for him to use against her and she felt anxiety bubbling in her stomach. She had not felt fear like that for years. She felt like a scared little girl again and she hated it.

“Sit down, Tav,” Korrilla said calmly. “You are going to make a hole in the floor with all that walking back and forth.”

“I think I really fucked up…” Tav mumbled and kept pacing. “What do you think he’ll do? Do you think he’d go after my friends?”

Tav had not even considered that before she said it. He probably would not. It seemed below him, but her anxiety was telling her that he might.

“Sit down, Tav,” Korrilla sighed. ”And calm down.”

“How am I supposed to be calm?” Tav asked and flinched slightly as she heard the muffled sounds of Raphael’s shouting at Cassius through the barrier to the boudoir.

“Tav,” Korrilla said slowly. “Sit down and tell me what happened.”

Tav sighed. She sat down and explained everything to Korrilla. She noticed that Korrilla was suppressing a smile as she explained, which annoyed her to no end.

“What is it that is so fucking funny about this situation?” Tav suddenly snapped at her.

Korrilla chuckled. She put her elbows on the table between them and leaned closer to Tav.

“You’re a smart girl,” Korrilla said in a lowered voice. “Use that brain of yours. You’ve seen his other debtors roaming the halls, haven’t you?”

“What are you talking about?” Tav said with an annoyed expression. “Yes, obviously. So what?”

“Do you see any of them getting treated as well as you? Are any of them dressed in silks, sleeping in their master’s bed?” Korrilla asked.

“No but that’s just because he needs me alive and in one piece to lure my friends here. He said that himself,” Tav said. She was getting frustrated with Korrilla’s calmness.

“Why?” Korrilla asked and then pointed to Tav’s chains around her wrists. “You’re wearing those. You can’t leave the house anyhow, so how would they know that you are 'alive and in one piece'? Wouldn’t it be more motivating for your friends to come and save you if they were told that you are suffering in a dungeon somewhere in the Hells?”

Tav was looking at her with a mix of annoyance and confusion.

“What are you saying?” Tav asked.

“I am saying that had you been any other person who had defied him, you would be in there watching as he made an example of Cassius. Instead, I was ordered to herd you into the only room that is somewhat soundproof in this house,” Korrilla said. “He favors you, Tav. You are not in any danger of getting hurt. Not yet anyhow.”

Tav rubbed her face trying to make sense of it. Of course, she knew that she was being treated surprisingly well for what she had expected when she got there, she was not blind. It just did not make sense, when she was the one who robbed him of his precious Crown of Karsus that he had been hunting for years. It must be some cruel joke and at some point, the hammer would fall.

“But why?” Tav asked.

“Who knows,” Korrilla said with a shrug. “I’ve worked for him for a long time, and I still won’t bother to try to figure out his motivations when it comes to certain matters. It’s a lost cause. Raphael does what Raphael wants. Which is what Cassius is learning for the first time as we speak.”

As if on cue, she heard the muffled sound of a scream from the other side of the barrier.

Tav hid her face in her hands.

“I feel terrible…” Tav said. “I hate the fucker, but he doesn’t deserve that.”

“Do you want me to make it worse?” Korrilla asked.

“No,” Tav mumbled into her hands.

“In the beginning we were given permission to hurt you if it was necessary to stop you, you know?” Korrilla explained anyway. “It sounds like Cassius overreacted, but technically he was not completely out of line. Aside from the fact that he failed to report it when you did it the first time, of course.”

Tav looked up from her hands and her brow furrowed.

“Then why is he even getting punished?” Tav asked in disbelief.

“Half of the job is figuring out Raphael’s whims and fancies…” Korrilla said. “I suppose he changed his mind along the way.”

Tav was quiet for a moment. She was trying to make sense out of it, but with little luck.  

“But you haven’t heard any of this from me. Understood?” Korrilla said, as she always did when she had said too much. 

Tav nodded. Gods, she loved Korrilla for her tendency to gossip.

“Thank you, Korrilla,” Tav said.

“For what?” she asked. “I didn’t say anything that wasn’t common sense…”

Tav flinched as she heard another muffled gut-wrenching scream.

“What should I expect from him when he’s done?” Tav asked.

“My guess? He might yell at you. Perhaps a few threats of what would happen if you do it again,” Korrilla said. “I really can’t imagine that he would hurt you over something like a few sending spells.”

Tav nodded. That helped her calm down somewhat.

Tav and Korrilla went quiet when Raphael entered the boudoir. Korrilla left immediately, leaving Tav alone with him.

He was drying his hands from blood with a handkerchief. He looked Tav up and down. She looked him up and down in return. Her anxiousness was bubbling up in her stomach again. The fact that Raphael’s facial expression revealed nothing, did not help. He was eerily calm. He started walking towards her at a leisurely pace and sat down where Korrilla had sat a moment before.

Tav’s nerves made her break the silence.

“Am I in trouble?” she asked with a tinge of nervousness in her voice.

He looked at her with a slight smile and those same intense eyes he had looked at her earlier.

“Is that fear I hear in your voice, mouse?” he asked. “How delightful it is to see that you do have some sense of self-preservation after all…”

He snapped his fingers and the bloodied handkerchief disappeared.

“Tell me, what did you say to your companions in those messages?” he asked calmly.

Tav hesitated with her answer for a moment. He would most likely know if she was lying, so she decided to tell him the truth.

“Where I was. That I was safe for now…That they should not deal with you no matter what,” she explained.

“Mm…” He hummed in thought. “And this was the day after you arrived, correct?”

“Yes.”

“Good,” Raphael said. “And the second message? There were just those two, yes?”

“Well, I sent two today right after each other,” she explained. “I received a message asking what you wanted from them. I explained and once again emphasized that they should not come. Then I told them that it might be my last message, because I anticipated that I would have to come clean to you.”

“I’m glad you did,” he answered calmly. “Cassius will not be guarding you anymore. He won’t even see you if it can be avoided.”

Tav’s brow furrowed in confusion. Surely, Korrilla would not be able to do anything else if she was constantly watching her.

“Who will be then?” she asked.

“No one,” Raphael answered. “You will be granted that privacy you’ve been yearning for. I see no reason why you should not. You haven’t proven to be destructive or shown even the faintest interest in escaping. Not that you would have any luck even if you tried, of course.”

…What?! Tav could not believe it. This had to be a trap, or she was seriously missing something. She was dumbfounded.

“I hurt your warlock twice, I send messages to my friends to discourage them for falling into your trap, and I’m getting rewarded for it?” Tav said in disbelief. “What am I missing here, Raphael?”

“I had expected you to do as much. In fact, I had expected you would do much worse…” Raphael said calmly. “I am rewarding your honesty, not your actions. Besides, I am using a lot of resources on keeping an eye on you and I now find it unnecessary. It is as simple as that.”

Tav was still dumbfounded. She was honestly a bit more nervous about this reaction than she would have been if he had simply punished her or yelled at her. He was up to something. He must be, or it did not make sense.

“Though I need you to understand this…” he said and leaned closer to her. “If I catch you trying anything, I will not let you escape punishment again. I will not let you abuse the trust I am giving you by loosening my grip on your leash. Do you understand?”

She into those fiery eyes of his and nodded.

“Good,” he purred and smiled at her. He studied the injuries on her face from Cassius punching her. “You should get that cleaned up, dear.”

Tav wanted to ask him something, but she hesitated for a moment.

“What did you do to him?” she asked quietly.

There it was again. That look on his face that she could not quite place. Anger? Jealousy? Possessiveness? He quickly replaced it with a smirk.

“I still have a few things to see to before I will return,” Raphael said, ignoring her question and getting up from the chair. “Enjoy your first little taste of privacy, my dear.”

He left her and as promised, no one came to watch her. She was alone for the first time in over a week. There was complete silence. She found herself unable to figure out what to do with herself.

She was left to her thoughts, and it quickly became uncomfortable. She had acted like a good little pet for Raphael, and she was starting to realize that she had almost forgotten that she was there against her will, robbed of her freedom.

She had cowered before him and admitted everything. She had been reminded of what he was capable of and who he really was…and yet…throughout the day she found that she missed him and longed for when he would come home again. And yet, she found herself thinking about what Korrilla had said to her: He favors you, Tav.

Why did that thought excite her? Why did she care that he favored her? She was nothing more than her captor’s favored prisoner, but she found herself feeling warm inside at the thought.

It disgusted her to think of who she was becoming and yet, the feelings were still there...

[firstknightvulion]

Funny little what if. So, on one side Dame Aylin and Isobel, a tall, angry Aasimar Paladin and her Selunite Wife. On the other side, my Tav, a tall, angry Tiefling Paladin and his (newly-again) Selunite Wife.

They get around the discussing their wives…

Wyll: What is going on?!

Tav flys past will, crashing into a wall back first. A half second later Aylin smashes into Tav, sending both him and her through the wall. Blow after blow is heard inside the shadows of the hole in the wall before Aylin comes flying out and lands in the dirt.

Tav steps out, bloodied but with a fire in his glowing eyes. Spitting blood on the floor, he charges Aylin who rises to meet the attack.

Astarion: *sitting on makeshift bleachers with a “Go Tav!” Ball cap on* They are having a most riveting debate.

Wyll: They’re trying to kill each other. *watches as Aylin drop kicks Tav in the stomach only for the Tiefling to grab both her legs and spin her around several times before sending her flying quite a distance*

Karlach: *standing next to Astarion, cheering with two foam hands marked with “Tav #1” on them* GO TAV!!!

Wyll: What are they even debating?!

Gale: *wearing a “I Hope Everyone Has Fun” shirt* I do believe it was whoever has the best wife.

Wyll looks further down the bleachers and cringes as he sees an Isobel and Shadowheart sitting in a blackened aura of what could only be embarrassment.

Lae’zel: You! Go for the wings! You! Go for the tail! GRIND THEM UNDER YOUR HEEL!!!

Wyll: Who is she cheering for?

Astarion: Ahhhh, death.

Wyll: Of course. And why is she here?! *points at Orin*

Orin waves and smiles.

Astarion: She sensed a good time and came over.

Wyll: WHY DID YOU LET HER?!

Astarion: She brought drinks, darling.

Wyll: …*watching Tav put Aylin in a full armbar only to then get bit in the leg* How long have they been at this?

Gale: Three hours, I think?

Wyll: *gives up and takes a seat next to Astarion* Three gold on Tav.

The Battle of The Two Angry Paladins with Outsider Ancestry Debating who had the best Magic Moon Wife ended in the most anime bullshit way possible. By the mutual final punch double KO. It was said the battle ravaged their bodies. The Magic Moon wives did nothing to ease their pain and in fact left them in the dirt for the next day.

Scratch thought they were hanging so he just laid down next to them.

A bit long but thank you for indulging me. Just realized the parallels between my main Tav and Dame Aylin. So this little what if happened.