#and Gale looking over them after 7

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A Legacies Secret |15 - Final|

Pairing: Tara Carpenter x Reader

Summary: You just wanted a happy life with your girlfriend but then Ghostface attacks, revealing long thought to be buried family secrets.

Warnings: None?

Word Count: 2.6k+

Main Masterlist | Series Masterlist

Part 1 | Part 2 | Part 3 | Part 4 | Part 5 | Part 6 | Part 7 | Part 8 | Part 9 | Part 10 | Part 11 | Part 12 | Part 13 | Part 14 | Part 15

Everything happened so fast, first she was getting her inhaler, then next thing she knew Amber was shooting Liv in the head. Tara didn’t think when she grabbed Amber’s arm, she just was trying to save Sam and then you. Tara had spent most of her time duck taped in the closet until Sam rescued her. She had wanted to go find you, but Sam wouldn’t let her, she said they needed a plan. Their plan worked, after Richie and Amber’s little monologue Amber came to get her again, finally separating the two and allowing Tara and Sam to make their move.

While Sam took out Richie, Tara handled Amber. She shot her best friend in the head. She didn’t even hesitate to do it. She did it partly because Amber was running at her sister, Gale, and Sidney with a knife, but another part of her just wanted her dead. She hadn’t fully processed it yet, but she knew Richie was with Sam the night she was attacked, the night that started all this, that meant Amber attacked her. She also wasn’t stupid, she knew Amber didn’t like you, she didn’t think Amber’s hatred was also murderous but now she knew, Amber was the one that had hurt you, Amber was the one who killed Dewey.

She couldn’t get the image of what happened out of her head. When she didn’t see you with the others she ran into the kitchen, seeing you lying in a pool of your own blood. Your shirt was soaked in blood, it seemed Amber stabbed you over a dozen times. Your right pant leg was also soaked in blood where Amber had shot you.

Despite all the blood Tara didn’t hesitate to drop to your side, ignoring the pain of her own injuries. You were still conscious, looking directly up at her but it didn’t seem as if you were really seeing her. Tara kept whispering to you but there was no reaction, you just kept staring at her with love then confusion. She tried to get you to stay awake, but you couldn’t keep your eyes open.

Tara waited impatiently as the paramedics came. She had to be held back by Sam as they loaded you onto a backboard, into the ambulance, and then took off. Tara wanted to ride with you, but the medics refused and made her get in her own ambulance. She was vaguely aware of Chad and Mindy being loaded up as well, but her mind was only on you.

She couldn’t lose you; she didn’t know what she would do without you. You were the only one who was always there for her, the one person who loved her unconditionally, she couldn’t handle losing you. You were too good for her, she always knew that, but now it was clear. Her best friend tried to kill you and wanted to make you suffer just because Tara loved you and not her. You didn’t deserve any of the pain Amber and Richie inflicted on you, you deserved so much better than all of them, you’d didn’t deserve to die because of them.

Tara was sitting in the waiting room; she had been there ever since she was discharged. You were still in surgery, and they wouldn’t let her see you. She couldn’t help but wonder if this is what it was like for you, you were at her side the second she woke up, you had to wait around for hours not knowing if she’d live or die. The only difference between you waiting and her waiting was that she had Sam by her side, you had been all alone.

“Ms. Weathers?” a doctor asked, snapping Tara out of her thoughts.

She instantly sat up, Gale sat across from them, she had been there since getting herself looked at as well. Tara nor Sam hadn’t said a word to Gale, they barely acknowledged them when Sidney came up to sit with Gale. She knew you wanted nothing to do with Gale but the one good thing about having Gale there was that they could get answers. Gale was your birth mother, she was family, the doctor had no problem informing Gale of your condition, he had refused to do so when Tara asked for an update on you.

“Yes?” Gales said, standing up on shaking legs.

“It was touch and go for a while,” the doctor began. “But she’ll make it.” Tara released a breath; you were going to be okay. “Her previous stitches were ripped open, she was stabbed fifteen times,” Gale tried to hold back a sob. Tara couldn’t help but bring a hand to her mouth, you had lost so much blood. “She was shot in the knee, luckily the bullet was a through and through. It will take a lot of physical therapy but I’m hopeful she’ll be able to walk without much issue or assistance.”

“Can we see her?”

“Yes,” the doctor nodded. “But I’d like to keep it to only one or two people.”

“Thank you.”

Tara’s eyes fell to the floor when the doctor left. You were stabbed so many times, even more than she was. You were shot, you were actually shot, Amber shot you in the fucking knee. Tara couldn’t even imagine the kind of physical therapy you’d need, even if the doctor thought you’d be okay.

“You should go,” Gale said, snapping her out of her thoughts. Tara looked up at her, furrowing her brow. “She’s definitely not going to want to see me,” Gale gave a sad smile. “You should be there when she wakes up.”

Tara nodded, not able to find her voice. She looked back at Sam to make sure it was okay. Sam nodded and offered her a soft smile. “I’ll be right here,” she whispered.

Tara nodded and hesitantly made her way down the hall. She knew it was over, but she was at ease knowing Sam would be just in the waiting room if she needed anything. She didn’t intend to leave your side though, not until you woke up, probably not even then. You were by her side the entire time and she would do the same for you.

Tara let out a shaky breath as she rested her hand on the door handle to your room. She finally pushed the handle down, struggling as she tried to squeeze through the door with her crutches. The doors were heavy, she was regretting not asking Sam to walk her to your room. When she finally managed to get into the room without falling, she was instantly met with the sight of you unconscious in the hospital bed.

She made her way to your bedside, looking down at your broken body. You were in a hospital gown; she could see the bandage around your arm from when you had first been slashed with the knife. She could make out the bandaging around your shoulder where you were stabbed peaking out from the gown by your neck. Your leg was wrapped up, propped up with something hanging from the ceiling to elevate your leg but also prevent you from moving it. Based on how you looked at the moment it would be a while before you could properly bend your knee again. The one thing she couldn’t see was all the stab wounds under your gown, she knew they were there though.

She gently plopped herself down in the chair by your bed side, scooting it as close to you as best as she could. Then she just stared at you, you didn’t look in pain at least, you were unconscious and were probably being pumped full of all kinds of meds, but it brought her comfort knowing you didn’t seem to be in pain at the moment.

She wondered what went through your head as you sat at her bedside waiting for her to wake up just a few days ago. She couldn’t imagine what was going through your head because her mind was spiraling. All Tara wanted to do was get up and pace around, she wanted you to open your eyes so she could see that you were okay. She wanted nothing more than to sleep, the exhaustion from the past few days catching up to her but she didn’t want to sleep knowing you might wake up.

You had a TV in the room, but she didn’t bother turning it on, she didn’t even want to try flipping through channels to put something on in the background. She slouched down in the chair, resting her head on the back cushion as she kept her broken leg stretched out. She kept her gaze on you, the light rise and fall of your chest being the only thing she could focus on, she could hear the steady beep of your heartrate monitor as her eyes got too heavy for her to keep open anymore.

Tara’s eyes snapped open, she winced as she jumped awake, jostling her leg a little too much. She looked around trying to figure out what startled her until her eyes landed on you. She furrowed her brow until her eyes widened at seeing you looking back at her.

“You’re awake!” she sat up in her chair. She was sure she would have jumped to her feet if she could. “How long have you been awake?” She was mentally kicking herself; she should have been awake and alert when you woke up, what if you had needed something.

“Just a minute,” you whispered. Your eyelids still seemed heavy with sleep; Tara wouldn’t be surprised if you passed out again a minutes later. “Are you okay?”

Tara let out a small chuckle, but it quickly turned into a sob. You got stabbed and shot, you were literally on the brink of death, and yet you were asking if she was okay. You frowned and tried to sit up once she started sobbing, as if you wanted to comfort her. She was quick to wipe her tears when she saw you drop your head back down onto the pillow, pinching your eyes shut as you gritted your teeth, trying to hold in your scream. She didn’t want you straining yourself just to try and comfort her.

“Take it easy,” she ordered. A few more tears fell but she ignored them, it was her turn to make sure you were okay. You opened your mouth to argue with her. “I’m fine. You’re the only one I’m worried about.”

“I’m okay,” you whispered.

“I thought I lost you,” her voice cracked. “There was so much blood, it just kept coming, there was nothing I could do,” she shook her head. The image of you bleeding out on the kitchen floor was forever burned in her head. “They didn’t know if you were going to make it.”

“Hey,” you whispered. You moved your hand across the bed like you were trying to reach out to her, but you winced at the slight movement.

Tara didn’t hesitate to reach over and grab your hand with her good hand. She closed her eyes and let out another sob, your grip was weak, but she could feel you. “I’m right here,” you said again. “I’m okay.” Tara nodded, taking in your words, you were right there, she was touching you, she could feel you, you were okay.

“Now, is it over?” Tara looked up, she didn’t miss the fear in your eyes, you were trying to be strong and comfort her, but you had been bleeding out, you had no idea what happened, you had no idea if Ghostface was still out there.

“It’s over,” Tara nodded. “I’m okay, Sam’s okay, Gale and Sidney.” Your jaw clenched slightly when she said Gale’s name, but she decided not to comment on it, you had enough to deal with.

“Chad and Mindy?”

“They’re going to make it.” Tara’s full focus had been on you, but she managed to get updates on Chad and Mindy while at the hospital, their mom had been kind enough to inform her. She had yet to visit them, but they were sharing a hospital room, awake, and already arguing with each other.

“Richie and…” you swallowed, wincing before you could say her name, Tara wasn’t sure if it was because of the pain or because Amber was the one who had done this to you.

“Dead,” Tara said, some lingering anger dripping into her tone. Your eyes widened at that. “Sam took care of Richie, and I shot Amber.”

You remained quiet for a few minutes. She knew you weren’t friends with Amber, and you never seemed to trust Richie, but it was still a lot for someone to process. “Are you okay?”

Tara looked down, thinking to herself, she really didn’t want to go down that rabbit hole. She knew she shouldn’t be okay, there was no reason she should be okay, no one would be okay after what they just went through. “Yeah,” she tried to sound convincing.

“Tar-”

“Can we talk about something else?” she rubbed the back of your hand, giving you a sad smile. The last few days had been filled with nothing but darkness and pain, she just wanted something good.

You stared into her eyes for a moment, clearly searching for something. She was hoping you’d just let it be for now and let her change the subject. “Where do you want to go?” you finally asked.

Tara furrowed her brow until a genuine smile broke out on her face. “New York,” she said easily. She wanted to get the hell out of the small town and as far away from Woodsboro as possible.

“Sounds perfect.”

 Tara got up from her chair only to sit on the edge of your bed. She ran her fingers through your hair as she looked down into your eyes. “I still want to graduate first.”

You let out an exaggerated groan, but it quickly turned into a chuckle. “Then we can finally live out our dream,” she whispered as she leaned down until her lips were barely brushing against yours.

“I’m pretty sure your sister will be living with us,” you whispered back.

“Don’t ruin it,” Tara sighed. She smiled as she finally connected her lips to yours, giving you a long, yet gentle kiss.

She knew you were right. Even if the two of you moved to New York she was sure her sister would follow. Just as she knew that Sam would never settle for letting her live on her own with you. It wasn’t exactly like the two of you always talked about but having her sister back and getting to have a life with you still seemed pretty perfect.

“I love you,” Tara whispered when she pulled away.

“Love you too,” you whispered back.

“Now, get some sleep.”

She continued to run her fingers through your hair, gently scratching your scalp as your eyes slowly closed. “Lay with me,” you whispered.

Tara looked around until deciding to grab the chair she had been sitting in and dragged it until it was pressed up against your bed. She slipped off the bed and back into the chair. As much as she wanted to lie with you the two of you each had an injured leg, and you couldn’t move without your various stab wounds causing you pain. Tara settled for resting her head on the mattress at an awkward angle and holding your hand.

She rubbed comforting circles on the back of your hand, listening to your steady breathing as she closed her eyes. It didn’t take long for you to fall asleep, and she was right behind you. This was the first time since she was attacked that she closed her eyes and wasn’t worried about what new horror she might wake up to.

Taglist: @r-3-becca

[tumbleweed-run]

Want

(18+, Explicit) Kinktober 2023 Day 7: virginity

“There you are, I was wondering if you’d changed your mind,” Gale tried to make sound light, a little joke between the two of you but you could hear the undercurrent of tension in his words. 

“I’m sorry,” you said earnestly, letting your hand rest on his shoulder as you sat. “I got caught up asking Wyll something.”

That was a lie, and one you felt a little guilty telling him, but the real reason you were delayed was a bit more embarrassing. You’d been sitting by the fire going over conversations in your head. Or rather, how to have a very specific conversation. One you still weren’t exactly sure how to approach. 

The truth of the matter was, physically you were a virgin. Even though you’d had mind-blowing, life-changing, astral sex with Gale just before fighting Ketheric your body was still very much the virgin it had been before that night. 

Gale, of course, didn’t know that fact. It wasn’t something you advertised to potential suitors. 

It wasn’t that you were some prudish untouchable. You’d had your fair share of odd groping as a teen (and adult) and were intimately familiar with your own body. You’d just never had actual sex using your body. 

That was an odd distinction to have to make.

You weren’t ashamed of it, it was just something that didn’t happen. Some people never had the opportunity to try certain foods or go certain places, you’d never had the opportunity to have sex. Or rather, you had the chance a few times, but the partners were decidedly less than ideal. 

You realized that keeping this fact from Gale was becoming increasingly like keeping a secret. You needed to tell him, and you needed to do it before he decided to take advantage of the relative quiet of the journey from the Shadowlands to Baldur’s Gate. 

“You seem quiet,” Gale prodded, bumping his shoulder into yours. 

“A lot on my mind,” you admitted vaguely. You bumped your shoulder into his but stayed there, leaning into his warmth. 

Gale hummed in agreement. “It’s odd this calm before the proverbial storm.” 

You felt him press a kiss into your hair. 

“I need to tell you something, but you can’t make a big deal about it,” you said eventually after allowing yourself to sink into the comfort of the moment. 

You felt Gale’s body stiffen, no doubt anticipating the worst kind of confession. Though at this point you weren’t sure what Gale would consider the the worst.

“Alright, I’m intrigued,” He said very neutrally. 

You took a deep breath and sat up right, giving yourself the space for this. “Just to be clear, that night, our bodies weren’t actually… involved.” You were hopeful maybe you were wrong and you’d just missed all the awkwardness because you’re mind was literally somewhere else. 

Out of the corner of your eye, you saw Gale’s head cock to the side. “Ah no, they weren’t,” he agreed, unknowingly dashing your hopes, “it looks a bit strange to an outsider, I admit, but alas our corporeal selves were exactly where we left them.”

“Why?” He tacked on after a pause. 

“Well, that would mean that I’m still technically a virgin.” You made your admission rather quickly, words bumping into one another as you spat it out, hoping to get this odd conversation out of the way. 

Gale was unusually quiet and when you finally turned your head to look at him you saw about a thousand emotions cross his face. 

“You’re a…” he trailed off.

You waited.

“Virgin?” his voice had risen almost comically. 

“Yes,” you confirmed.

“But you’re-”

“Yes, I know how old I am,” you interrupted rolling your eyes at him. 

“You mean you’ve never…?” Another incomplete sentence from your usually verbose wizard. 

“That would be what that means, yes,” you confirmed… again. 

You sighed and turned your body so you could look at Gale easily. “It’s not that I’m some innocent. I’ve had the odd kissing session in a dark room, its just never gone any farther. Not to mention I’m concerningly familiar with my own hand and also that one odd pillow in my…”

You trailed off as you watched Gale’s eyes darken. He cleared his throat and shifted. Idly you wondered which of those revelations had affected him so.

“Why didn’t you tell me?” He sounded almost hurt. 

“It never came up,” you admitted, “first, you were at risk of blowing us all up and then we ended up having sex astrally. I would have told you if we’d been… physically involved,” you assured him, fighting with yourself as to how exactly word things. 

Gale seemed to absorb this information with acceptance. “Well I guess that means my plans for tonight are off the table.”

“What? Why?” You sounded genuinely alarmed, surprising even yourself. 

Gale smiled a small, exasperated thing. “My love, I can’t have you bedded properly for the first time in some wood in the middle of nowhere.”

“You absolutely can,” you insisted.

He chuckled and took your hand. Normally you would have seen a similar move as patronizing but there was nothing but love and adoration shining from Gale’s eyes. “We can be together astrally, again.”

“No,” you huffed pulling your hand away, growing frustrated. This wasn’t why you’d told him. “I want you,” you insisted, “I want you, for real. Here.”

Gale shook his head again, “but you deserve-”

“Gale,” you moved up onto your knees so you could hold his face between your hands, “this is about what I want. And what I want is your actual physical cock inside of me, here in this clearing. Tonight, preferably.”

Whatever Gale had been expecting, that confession wasn’t it. His mouth dropped open. 

“Are you sure?” He asked eventually. 

You nodded, vigorously, “yes.”

“Then I will give you what you want.”

You leaned forward and kissed him. Gale gathered an arm around your waist and laid backward, pulling you with him. You laid across his chest, eagerly allowing yourself to get lost in kissing him. 

You shifted, slotting your body between his legs. Gale groaned when your thighs brushed against his cock, already half-hard. Taking advantage, you pressed your tongue between his lips. His hands slid down your back to your ass, cupping it he pulled you up and closer. 

“How many young lads did you lead into dark corners, only to leave them with their hopes dashed?” Gale teased when you two finally separated for air. 

You laughed. “I never said I left them unfulfilled.”

Gale shook his head with an amused smile. “I assure you every lad who left without bedding you was unfulfilled in some regard.”

“I think,” you smoothed a hand against his chest, “you think too highly of me.”

“Not possible,” Gale reassured. His expression changed as you watched, from playful to something more sincere. 

“What have you done with others?” He asked all of a sudden. 

Now, you felt you might be a little offended. “Gale, I wasn’t saying that-”

“No, no,” he shook his head, “I don’t care if you’ve had a thousand cocks in your mouth. Confused, perhaps, but I want to know specifically what has been done to you that hasn’t come from your own hand… or pillow I suppose.”

“Oh,” you felt a little sheepish now.

With out warning his hands slid to your thighs and he lifted you, pulling your legs apart, forcing you to straddle him. You could feel his cock pressing against your core. You fought down the urge to grind against it. 

“Has anyone ever made you come with their mouth?” Gale asked then.

You shook your head, a warmth crawling down your neck at the thought. 

“Their fingers?” He continued. 

Again, you shook your head. “Twice I've had someone’s hand down my pants,” you admitted, “but it was awkward and they never really did much.”

“Maybe you’re lucky,” Gale mused, “boys tend not to think beyond their own needs.”

“And men are any different?” You challenged. 

Gale’s eyes darkened as he looked at you now. “Not all, but this one, yes. Your needs are mine.” He rolled his hips up then, grinding his cock against you. 

“Oh,” the sound felt like it was punched out of you. Happily, you rocked your hips back down against him. 

Gale’s hands went to your hips, holding you from doing anything further. You tried to roll them again and frowned when he wouldn’t let you. 

“I promise I will pay as much attention to your pretty cunt as you can stand,” he started, “but I need you to promise you’ll stop me if anything makes you uncomfortable.”

There was an edge to his final words, and you knew anything less than an agreement that he’d leave you untouched. 

“I promise,” you repeated. 

“Good girl,” He rewarded, his words shooting straight to your core. You absolutely did not look at him in an attempt to hide that knowledge from him. His chuckle let you know it had been unsuccessful. 

He released your hips and you ground down on him once more. 

In a testament to Gale’s self-control, or perhaps his determination, his hands moved to the ties of your trousers. When he’d finished opening them, he rolled you both so he was above you. He sat back on his legs and slid backward before working to shimmy your bottoms off before discarding them in a pile nearby.

He gently pushed your legs and you laid back, allowing him to bend your knees. He gently pushed at them so they dropped to the side. You shivered both from the complete exposure of the position he’d put you in and also from missing his warmth on you. 

“Fingers or mouth?” Gale asked, hands sliding down your thighs, ever closer to where you truly wanted them. 

“I believe I said cock,” you retorted. 

A light pinch was delivered to your thigh and you jumped, startled but not actually in pain. “Soon,” Gale promised, “for now, though, those are your options.”

“Mouth,” you answered with almost no hesitation.

Above you, Gale smiled, apparently pleased with your answer. “Do you want anything? A pillow,” he asked rather than doing what you’d asked for. 

“I want,” you answered a bit snappier than you’d meant, “for you to touch me.”

“Some day, I will have you without risk of interruption.” Gale wasn’t really talking to you it seemed. Still, you wondered what he meant by that. You hoped something wicked. 

All thoughts left your mind when you felt his fingers spread you open even further. You were about to remind him you’d said mouth, unable to resist the urge to push against whatever side of him you were seeing, when you felt his breath hot against you. That urge fled, just as quickly as your thoughts. 

You cried out when he swiped his tongue between your folds. Quickly you pulled your arm across your mouth, aware the camp wasn’t too far off. Gale didn’t seem at all concerned though as he began tracing maddening paths with the tip of his tongue. 

Somehow he was touching you where you wanted and yet seeming to avoid it all together. A growl ripped out of you in frustration and you tried to slide down closer to his mouth. An arm flew across your hips quickly, preventing you from moving anywhere. You were about to say something, beg even, when his tongue finally found your clit. You cried out, free hand threading itself in Gale’s hair. If you couldn’t move closer to him, you could at least pin him to you. He didn’t seem too bothered by this thought, tracing his tongue down you again, this time pressing it inside of you. 

“Shit,” you cursed hips ineffectively trying to grind down again. 

Gale, in some act of benevolence or maybe because he was enjoying your reactions, move his arm from across your hips. He instead pushed his hand under your ass forcing you to tilt your hips up towards him. He moved his attention back to your clit. You felt the walls of your pussy begin pulsing around nothing and you whimpered.

“Fingers,” you gasped, pulling your arm from your face. 

Gale either didn’t hear you or was ignoring you. A few more seconds of attention to your clit and then his teeth gently nipped against it. 

“Fuck,” you cried out as your orgasm hit, once again pulling Gale against you. You couldn’t help but shamelessly grind against his face as you came. 

He stayed there, tongue licking broad stripes up and down your center until you stilled. Only then did he gently disentangle your hands from his hair and sit up.

He knelt between your still-spread legs, a hand gently cupping your cunt. He was watching you closely, pleased with whatever he saw he gently began kneading against you. 

“Will you fuck me now?” You asked unable to help the way your hips chase up at the contact. 

He shook his head. Briefly, you were mesmerized by the way his beard, glistening with your wetness, reflected the light. 

“Why not?” You whined, which wasn’t exactly how you’d meant to say that. 

Gale chuckled before leaning over you to press a kiss on your lips. You could smell yourself on him, taste it even when he pulled away. Far from being turned off by that fact you found yourself wanting to kiss him again. 

“Fingers, first,” he said and demonstratively slipped a finger beneath your folds to press against your entrance. 

He easily pressed the finger into you, finding no resistance when he did. Gently he began pressing it in and out, every time he ground the heel of his palm against your clit until your hips were rolling with his movement. 

His eyes never left your face when he began pressing a second finger into you. You nodded, trying to pull them deeper but he only continued pressing the new digit into at a slow pace. 

“Gods,” you moaned when his fingers were pressed into you completely. 

“Not quite,” he answered with a wry smile. 

You were quickly distracted when you realized he was refusing to move his fingers in you. He was just grinding his hand to your clit, and while it felt amazing it wasn’t what you wanted. 

“Gale,” you whined rolling your hips in an effort to get some movement inside of you. 

That was his aim, apparently. Gale held his hand still and allowed you to fuck yourself on his fingers. You grew brazen, chasing after the grinding sensation as well with a roll of your hips. He watched you with a scrutiny that had your body flushing. Gradually you realized he had begun gently scissoring his fingers inside of you, pressing you open wider each time you pulled away from them. 

His fingers were thick and you felt yourself clench around them at the thought of what he’d (hopefully) be replacing them with. You realized, in a passing thought, that you’d struggle to watch his spell casting in a normal way ever again. 

You felt another orgasm building and with great effort stilled your own hips. 

“Please,” you groaned out, “I want you inside me. Please, I’m ready,” you were shamelessly begging. 

“Yes,” Gale agreed before finally thrust his fingers in and out of you a few times and then with drawing them entirely. 

He was quick about removing his own trousers. His cock sprung free and slapped against his stomach, in the moonlight you could make out a bead of precum on the tip.

Your mouth watered. 

Gale didn’t allow your thought to wander any further before settling between your legs. One hand hooked around the back of a thigh and hiked up your leg against him. 

“Tell me if this hurts, despite what you’ve heard it doesn’t have to,” he said leaning over you, bracing himself with his free arm. 

You would rather die, you realized as you nodded a lie to him. 

The head of his cock pressed against your entrance, but he didn’t move any further. It appeared he’d also put you in a position where he could keep you from pushing down on it. You wondered if it was forethought or simply a coincidence. 

When he pressed inside your head collapsed fully against the ground. He was certainly bigger than anything that had been inside you before, his thick fingers included. Painstakingly Gale began pressing into you. His movements were slow and controlled, making sure to keep you immobile. The sensation was uncomfortable but not painful as he stretched you even further. 

You couldn’t help but be grateful, now, for his refusal to fuck you immediately.

When he bottomed out, hips pinned against yours, he groaned head dropping forward. You felt the muscle of his thigh tremble against yours. You were secretly pleased as he struggled to maintain his composure. 

You tried to wait him out, trust him as he had only thought of you so far, but your patience only extended so far. Experimentally you clenched around his cock. 

“Shit,” he groaned, hips stuttering as he restrained a thrust. 

“Please,” you whispered once again fluttering around him, “please.”

Gale pulled out only a little before slowly thrusting into you. It wasn’t much but your eyes rolled back. 

He kept it that way, small shallow thrusts until there was almost no resistance when he did. Then, he began working back further before thrusting into you. He was grunting with each thrust, head hanging low so his forehead was resting against your chest. 

“Gale,” you whined unable to take the coddling much longer. 

It seemed his restraint was hanging on by a thread because his hips snapped up against yours, much harder than any previous movement. 

“Yes,” you cried out in response. 

Gale began truly fucking you then. He was mumbling something against you but the sound of your skin slapping against one another was drowning him out. Your own hips were moving now, too, the hand on your thigh had loosed so he was not longer holding you still. 

“Touch yourself,” he said, voice strained, finally loud enough for you to hear. 

You were able to slide a hand between the two of you. Instead of touching yourself right away you pushed your finger further down enjoying the sensation of the slide of his cock in and out of you. 

Abruptly Gale pushed up so he was sitting back on his knees. Both hands sliding under your hips in order to tilt you up so he never slid fully from inside of you. 

“Now, please,” he groaned out and you realized he was holding back his own orgasm. 

Hurriedly you found your clit with your fingers, this new position making it easier. You rubbed quickly and efficiently in a way you’d long learned would bring you off. 

“Beautiful, you’re so beautiful,” Gale babbled above you. “Come for me, I want to see your face this time.”

It was his words more than your fingers that pushed you over the edge. You whimpered and he began thrusting harder as you squeezed around him. 

Gale came with a shout, eyes screwing shut. He pinned your hips together once more as he spilled inside of you. He rode out his own orgasm like that, hips rolling slightly with each pulse. Once he was done, Gale gently lowered your hips back to the ground, allowing himself to slip out of you.

You extended your hand up to him and when he took it you pulled him down against your chest.

“Next time I think I want to ride you,” you told him after a moment of quiet. 

Gale laughed before tilting his head up to capture your lips in a kiss. 

[sankttealeaf]

unlocked

pairing ; astarion x (rogue) gender neutral!reader

summary ; a few failed attempts at picking a lock causes you more than enough embarrassment for you, yet Astarion finds it highly amusing.

other info ; based on a true story where my Tav failed 4 times to unlock a door and after switching to Astarion, he does it first try >:( Tav even had a guaranteed 7~11 bonus too. set in act one just as you get into the Underdark. first time writing for him be gentle please :')

warnings ; swearing, a kiss, and suggestive themes in this but nothing too wild!

word count ; 4.1k

The journey down into the Underdark had been tiresome. A few goblins remained at the camp that were hungry for a fight and after spending way too long trying to solve the puzzle in the temple, you were ready to rest. The outpost you found yourself at seemed to be a safe place to set up camp - tall stone walls, a portcullis with a lever on the inside, and whatever those beams of light were that incinerated an angry looking minotaur moments ago. Yes, it would be safer inside here. Everyone else seemed to think so, too.

Gale, Wyll and Karlach began the very important task of searching through the old crates and boxes to check for any edible food, while Shadowheart and Lae'zel took opposite ends to look for anything important that could aid you in your journey - notes, books, signs of life nearby. You decided to check for traps, not entirely trusting that this outpost was as safe as it seemed. It made sense to ask Astarion to join you, the ongoing joke about the two rogues being tasked to scout out everywhere before settling down repeating in your mind, but when you turned to ask for him you found that he was no longer standing behind you. No matter, you thought. You had enough trap disarming kits and lockpicks to keep you company.

The room to your left was bare, with only a few rotted crates and furniture that had seen better days. Lots of moon iconography too, though that was to be expected considering this was an outpost for Selûne. Part of you wanted to go check on Shadowheart and get her opinion on this place - for no reason other than pure curiosity. 

You stuck your head out of the room to check to make sure no one had gotten injured or found anything of note down in the main room. Karlach had moved on from checking boxes and was now assessing a few weapons she had found, calling over Lae'zel to check them out as well. Shadowheart stood in front of the large statue, a frown on her face. You couldn't work out what she was thinking and the gentle pressure of your tadpole behind your eye reminded you that you weren't going to know. Not until you asked her in person. 

You then spotted Astarion, ever helpful when it came to readying the new spot for camp. He perched on an old granite bench, lazily flipping through a book he had found. You were slightly irked that his attention was elsewhere but it meant that if you found anything interesting around you had first dibs. Darting across the walkway you approach the other gate. This one was locked, rusted and old. 

A locked door couldn't keep you out.

You crouched to eye level with the lock, hands instinctively finding where you kept your lockpicks. It should be simple enough - you could pick locks in your sleep. The appearance of the lock was what concerned you, though. Rust had built up over the long years of abandonment and it could prove deadly for your picks if you weren’t careful. 

Slowly as to not jam the lock, you began the intricate process of inserting in a pin, moving, waiting, listening for a click. The sound of the pins grinding against iron made you frown, pausing in your attempt to make sure nothing was breaking. With your picks intact, you continued turning.

A loud gasp caused you to flinch, breaking your steady grasp on your picks and hearing the dreaded 'snap' of metal. Shit.

You turned to see what the commotion was - Gale and Wyll stood around an old, rotted burlap sack, a handful of mouldy vegetables laying at their feet. Shadowheart approached them and you heard Gale explaining how an infestation of bugs were eating at an old carrot and it spooked them. 

You rolled your eyes at the situation, trying to get back into the groove of it. Breaking a lockpick was bound to happen, it wasn’t that big of a deal. You pull out another pick, ready to try again. Sometimes locks were easy. Sometimes they were bastards to crack. This one was proving to be a pain in your ass as you heard the familiar sound of metal snapping again.

“Shit.” The tip of the pick had broken off and you were now down another. Best of three, you told yourself as you took out another lockpick and hoped to anything that was watching you that this would be the final attempt. 

There was an uncomfortable wriggling sensation behind your eye for a moment as you lost focus, the sudden shift in movement from your tadpole causing your guard to go up. And for another one of your lockpicks to break. You’re blaming the tadpole for that one.

"I thought you said you were good at this?" Astarion's voice carried as you turned to look at him, not appreciating how now everyone knew you were failing at the one thing you were around for. It was just a bad streak of luck! The next attempt will be it, you could feel it.

You looked back at the lock. "I am." The scattered remains of old lockpicks said otherwise.

"That's the third lockpick you've broken. I'm starting to wonder if you even know what you're doing." He crouched beside you, a grin on his face. "Perhaps you should leave it to the professionals in future."

You grit your teeth at his comment, pulling out another pick for your fourth attempt. Growing up with dexterous hands and a knack for getting into places you weren't supposed to had prepared you for moments like this. Yet the one time you wanted a quick break the universe cursed you. Maybe it was Selûne looking down and preventing you from entering this room. Had you not wished to be smited by the God in a place dedicated to her you would show her a rather rude gesture right now. If your hands weren't full you would show it to Astarion, too.

The tension wrench felt heavy in your hand as you removed it from the lock, rolling your shoulders in an attempt to loosen up. Astarion hadn't moved, instead taking great joy at seeing you mess up a task you had bragged about being so good at many times before. This wasn't like you. You were quick to blame it on how tired you were feeling. That was it - you were tired. Tiredness, tadpoles, bugs. All excuses no one would believe. And now with Astarion looming over your shoulder watching you as you gently twisted the pick to position, you were determined to not mess this one up.

Your heart pounded in your chest, soon the only thing you could hear as you tried to keep focused on listening for the click of the lock unlocking. 

“Are you actually moving it? Or are you hoping it will do the work for you?” Astarion asked, breaking your concentration.

"Be quiet." You shifted in your position and very slowly tilted your hand to the left. Nothing. No click of it opening and no snapping of the pick breaking. It was slow progress, but good progress. The pick was still intact - that’s all you cared about.

You could hear the smug smile as Astarion spoke up again, "All I’m saying is that it’s certainly a choice you're making."

"Hush." You twist it to the right. Still nothing. Maybe it wasn’t you, maybe the lock was the problem? It had to be, you were doing everything right!

“Have you tried--”

Snap. 

You took in a deep breath, eyes closed to hold in your frustration at this stupid lock and its stupid inability to open. Was this how Karlach felt before she raged? Maybe you should ask her about it. Once you were calmer, of course. Right now you just wanted to get into this room and find something good and then go to sleep. Gods, you needed some sleep.

“What a shame. Bested by a rusty lock.” Astarion shook his head in feign sorrow, hand over his heart. “How ever are we to move on from this? Whatever shall we do?”

“I don’t see you making an attempt at it,” you mumbled, standing upright and giving the lock a glare as if that would shatter it.

He smiled, head tilted and arms folded. “But it’s already in such capable hands.”

“Do you want to try?” You gestured to the lock, knowing you only had one set of lockpicks left and that he most definitely had a few tucked away in his own bag somewhere. There was a time where you had a slight disagreement over who would be the designated lockpicker but it was decided you would alternate. Or it would be down to whoever found the lock - whichever was first.

“Are you asking for help?” he asked. 

"No, I'm offering for you to have a go."

“So you are asking for help.” 

You clenched your teeth, avoiding eye contact with him as you willed everything inside of you to utter the words he so desperately wanted to hear. “Will you help me with this lock?”

He held a hand up to his ear and you shook your head, refusing to indulge in this ridiculous game he was attempting to play. “Did you say something, my dear?” he asked, grinning as you crossed your arms over your chest and sighed deeply.

“Astarion, my dear, dear friend. Would you please do me the honours of helping me with this lock, for I simply cannot open it without you,” you deadpanned, though it seemed to be enough for him.

“Of course I’ll help. You only had to ask,” he replied with a gentle applause. “We’ll make an actor out of you yet!” He waved for you to step aside from the door, lockpicks in hand as he stood where you once were and assessed the situation. “I hope you’re taking notes.”

You watched as he got to work, crouching beside him like he did with you as he repeated the actions you were doing moments ago. He wasn’t doing anything different, in fact you noticed he was copying what he saw you doing on your third attempt. You waited for the snapping of metal, but it never came. He furrowed his brows as he leaned closer to the lock, and with one final twist you heard the sound of it unlocking. The lock hung loosely on the gate.

"Was that meant to be difficult?" He stood as the lock then fell to the floor, tucking his lockpicks away in a quick motion. “Honestly, if you wanted me to help you from the start you should’ve said something.” 

You stood quickly, bewildered at how easy he made it look. The gate groaned loudly as he pushed it open, giving a grand gesture for you to enter first followed by a wink. If it weren't for the smug look on his face you would have thanked him for it; instead you sulked past him, irritated that he now had something to hang over your head for the next few hours. It was something you noticed he did early on, whether it was because you both had roguish tendencies and there was an unspoken competition between you both, or perhaps he enjoyed being better at something you wanted to do. Either way, you were not about to live this down anytime soon.

The room, now that you were inside, lacked  anything interesting in it. A locked door always meant something good was behind it but the more you searched the less you found. Rotten food, old clothes, an old book with pages lost to time. The failed attempts at getting here hardly seemed worth it now. You lit the candles as you went, the warmth from the light putting you at ease. Everything felt a little safer now that you could see. Astarion lingered by the doorway, peering to his right to see what was inside an old crate.

“All that effort for some rotten food…” He nudged a piece of rubble with his foot and you turned, giving him a look.

“At least I was looking around for things,” you said. It was no secret that Astarion found setting up and taking down camp a tedious task - it was no one's preferred job to do but everyone had their role. You had found him on several occasions sweet talking Wyll or Karlach into doing all his heavy lifting, and there was one time you were swept up under his charm and ended up doing his washing up for him. There was one theory that was stuck in your head that he did it because he knew it got under your skin. He had made many comments about how amusing it was to see you irritated at something. 

“And you found a room with nothing in it.” He huffed quietly and you turned your back to him to continue your search. There had to be something, why else would this room be locked?

You were about to give up and accept your loss when something caught your eye. Sitting atop a small alcove in the far end of the room was an ornate chest with delicate gold details engraved onto a dark wood. You noticed a keyhole but no key nearby. Of course it's most likely locked. Selûne must be having a field day watching you fail to rob her acolytes of anything worthy.

You caught Astarion's gaze as you moved with a speed only reserved for combat, heading towards the chest. When the lid of the chest didn't move when you tried to lift it up, you grinned. Now was your time to prove yourself. Not that you needed to prove yourself to anyone, especially Astarion, but the irritation of failure was eating away inside of you and you needed to show him you could do the one thing you thought you were good at. 

No. You knew you were good at this. 

"Are you sure you have it in you, darling?" His voice was low as he approached behind you, looking at the chest. “I would hate for you to break another set of picks.”

You had one set left that was intact. Who knew when you would be able to find another? The odds weren’t stacked in your favour. It was painful for you to do this. You picked up your pride and turned to face Astarion, the smile on his face only added fuel to the fire but you refused to stoop to his level. With a forced politeness you stepped aside, allowing him direct access to the chest.

"By all means, be my guest." You gestured to the lock as he approached, lockpicks in hand again.

"I'm always around for private lessons if you ever need a refresher on how to do this. You'll find I am very good with my hands," he said, repeating a similar motion to what he did at the gate. Your cheeks flushed at the comment and you forced away any images of what a private lesson on lockpicking would look like. For some reason you didn't think there would be much lockpicking involved.

“It’s just a bad streak. I’ll be back on my game in no time,” you mumbled as he hummed in response, pausing to look up at you. “And then you can go back to looking pretty while I do all the hard work.”

“Looking pretty is hard work. Someone has to do it.” He gave you a grin, going back to twisting the picks in different directions to see which would work. You watched him work, eyes darting from his hands to his face and then settling on staring directly at the keyhole. It felt rather intimate to watch him so closely, the way his brows creased in focus or how his head tilted to hear better. Nimble fingers made quick work of the lock, the satisfying click being music to both of your ears.

You were quick to lift open the lid before he could, having been the one to find this after all. Inside was a coin pouch, a few spell scrolls and a couple of gems that looked like they could be worth a lot. Was it worth all the effort? You were hoping for something incredible, but it was better than nothing. Reaching for the coin pouch your hand collided with Astarion’s, who had a similar idea to you.

“Now then, it’s only fair that I take a higher cut. After all I did most of the work here,” he said, taking a hold of your wrist to push your hand away. The cold touch caught you off guard, and though there wasn’t any hostility behind it you wondered what lengths he would go to to get a bigger share of the loot.

You frowned at him, twisting your arm out of his grip in a quick motion. “I found the godsdamn thing! It’s not my fault I had issues with the lock.” Glancing quickly back at the coin pouch, you decided to make another grab for it. Astarion had the same idea - rogues always seemed to think alike, you thought - as you both lunged for the leather pouch. Hands pushed hands away and shoulders tried to push each other away from the chest. A rather strong shove from you caused the chest to fall to the floor with a large clatter, the contents of it spilling out onto the floor in front of you. The shove had also caused Astarion to lose his balance, grabbing onto you as he tumbled backwards to the ground bringing you with him. 

You landed on top of him, hitting your head against his shoulder with an uncomfortable groan. The coin pouch had fallen behind where Astarion laid and the spell scrolls fell out and landed elsewhere. There was a moment of silence as you sat up, the positioning of you both causing your cheeks to warm up in embarrassment. 

"If this was your plan all along it would have been easier for you to simply say so," he said, leaning on his elbows once you had moved.

"You think I fucked up picking a lock just to try and get us into a compromising position?" you laughed, though it certainly looked that way to an outsider. Astarion sat upright, the both of you now almost flush with each other. You felt his hands rest gently on your hips, fingers digging in ever so slightly. 

"Are you certain you don't want me to refresh your memory on the art of lockpicking?" he asked, a hand running up your side. "I'm a very good teacher."

You tried to keep your thoughts from wandering. It was proving difficult as you kept Astarion's gaze, his eyes moving from your own to your lips and back. "I think I'll pass for now. I'm normally good at it, you know this."

"Yet here I am, saving the day," he said with a grin, the annoyed look on your face only adding to his enjoyment at this moment. His hand brushed against your cheek, moving down to lift your chin up slightly. There was something different about all this yet you couldn't place your finger on what it was.

"My hero. However can I repay you?" you asked, not sounding at all interested in repaying him for helping. His eyes looked over your neck, and if you were going to repay him, at least it could be something you had done before. "Did you want to…?" You exposed your neck to him. It came as a shock to you when he shook his head.

"Later, perhaps. I would hate to use up all our fun here and now," he replied, running a finger down the main vein in your neck, the touch barely there. His hand continued downward, stopping at your chest. In another strange shock he laid it atop of your heart as you felt it quicken. It made sense why he would want to feel it, you supposed, but given the circumstances it did throw you off guard.

You placed your hand atop his, feeling the coolness of his skin against yours. The sounds of the others melted away until it felt like it was just you both in the room, hands on top of each other, listening to the rhythm of your heart beat. You wondered what he was thinking as you studied his face, trying to get a hint of his thoughts. His eyes were focused on your hand, and only when you shifted slightly did he blink and look up at you. 

"Alright?" you asked softly, giving his hand a very gentle squeeze.

"Perfect," he muttered in response, pulling at the top of your shirt to bring you closer to him. 

"This isn't going to give you a bigger cut, you know," you mumbled when you felt your nose bump against his. How quickly things changed between you, you thought. Somehow you always found yourself here, like this, with him. It was like some force was pulling you towards him constantly.

He smiled at you. "Ah, a shame. You foiled my plan." In one quick move, he closed the gap between you both. The kiss was unexpectedly soft, especially given the circumstances. Your hands rested on his chest and you felt one of his arms loop around your lower back, pulling you closer towards him. It was nothing like the hunger and desire you felt all those nights ago after the party. This was gentle. Delicate. Like one wrong move could break you both, the same way you had broken many lockpicks moments before. It was everything you didn't expect to feel when kissing Astarion, and you wondered why. He pulled you flush against him, your hands tangled in his hair and savouring the moment. He removed his right hand from you to prop himself upright, the other staying at the small of your back, keeping you in place. The moment was perfect; nothing could break it.

"Food is ready!" Gale's voice appeared in your mind, arcane echoes lingering behind as you recognized the use of the message spell. At least he didn't yell it out loud and gave away your location, you thought. You pulled away from Astarion, his face contorting into a look of annoyance as you assumed he got a similar message in his mind as well.

"I'd prefer it if we didn't hear the others in our heads when we do this," he complained as you climbed off of him quickly, not wanting anyone to catch you like this.

"Could've been worse. Could've used the tadpoles to tell us," you said, pushing yourself up to your feet and holding a hand out for Astarion to take.

"He would have been met with some rather…" he paused to look you up and down with a grin, "interesting images then." He took hold of your hand as you helped him up and didn't let go for a little longer than normal. You shot him a playful glare, letting go of his hand as you began to collect up the loot that had fallen on the floor.

As you picked up the final spell scroll, you noticed a lack of coin pouch. With a frown you turned to Astarion to ask him if he had seen it. He held it in his hand, counting out coins in the other. That bastard.

"How did you…" You approached him slowly.

He paused in the counting and grinned. "You're easily distracted." 

"You know what? Take it. You deserve it at this point, with all the picking locks and distracting me," you said, waving him off. It was annoying but there wasn't much you could do at this point. You'd take the gems and hoped they would sell well. Once you had gathered everything up, you gave Astarion one last look. He held out the pouch for you. 

"Your cut."

"Thanks…?" You blinked, and when he didn't elaborate you took it from him slowly, waiting for there to be a hidden meaning behind it. Your fingers brushed against his as you pocketed the money quickly, ignoring the feeling of warmth in your chest at the touch. There was a moment where neither of you moved, unspoken words left lingering in the air as you thought through what to say. After everything that happened between you both you could never find the right words to speak after a moment like this. Instead, you gave him a nod and left the room, heading back downstairs to the others.

Camp was slowly being set up. Most people had their tents sorted and Gale was serving up food, explaining in depth to Wyll what he had done with the supplies that were given to him. You placed the loot on one of the granite benches for the others to sort through later, spotting Astarion joining the group when you turned back.

He gave you a soft smile, and you smiled back. 

[athanasius-symposium-of-writings]

If you could write a little thing with fem!tav and astarion where tav brings up the topic of having children? Just would love to see what you do with it and how Astarion would react, etc!

@dexpairs-blog asked: Could i request Astarion reacting to tav babying the owlbear cub and Scratch 24/7? Like baby talk, holding them like babies, playing with them and showering them with all their attention as soon as they set foot in the camp

pspsps what if i made it painful lol

Rated: M

He has no particular interest in children. They are bothersome needy creatures that he has no intention of entertaining. Astarion never understood why you like them so much, brats all of them. The time you give such caring words to the tieflings children, helped Mol out of her contact, to let some kid stay at the camp because the kid's mommy was missing.

Astarion didn't see the point but did see how you interacted with children, this gentle side of you with the bright smile he enviously wants only for him.

The Vampire Ascendant does not need to be. He already owns your body and mind.

You currently are watching Scratch run around playing with the kids in the park, your sweet giggles as the two children pretend to be heroes fighting imaginary villains with their fearsome battle dog! The owlbear is in the Crimson Palace enjoying his afternoon nap after being fed. Astarion is usually with him, you notice he has grown closer to it in recent years.

"Little love," You jump when he wraps his arms around you, "Enjoying your toys?" It… Bothered you long ago by what he calls everyone you have a harmless interest in (or interact with) toys, which is a step up from being cattle (not by much). You long ago stopped trying to convince him otherwise.

"The children are enjoying themselves. Scratch is going to sleep well tonight." You speak as kisses are placed on your exposed back, his arms pulling you closer, "Astarion," It is hard not to squirm as he hums with minor acknowledgment and seeks you out physically. Luckily you are hidden under a shaded tree while the children are pretty far from your secluded spot. "Not here." Denying him is impossible, both because he won't be denied and because you need him.

"I promised you a decade in each other's arms," resting his chin on your shoulder with eyes closed, "Yet, here you are outside without me." Hurt. Astarion seeks you out like a shark to blood, he fiends for you in a way you never thought possible.

The ascension changed him, you remind yourself.

"Soon," Tilting your head against his, "Allow me to stay a little longer."

One might think he wants time away from him.

When you pull away, your warmth leaving him, your hand catches his, "Come." You tug for him to follow.

When darkness falls, when the streets fall silent, the taverns are full; he has you close to him. Normally, he would go hunting to bring prey to feed you however tonight he does not leave your side. Laying next to one another in the bed, your eyes looking into his.

The conversation comes up over a petty argument and you still feel the tears on your cheeks.

"A child?"

"Yes, our own." You place his hand on your stomach, "We can make one. Father," The title spoken with some defeat, "Granted me that ability."

Astarion is aware, Kanchelsis gave his blessing for his beast child to be the consort of the Ascendant.

"Now why would you want a little bugger running around here? Isn't babying that dog and owlbear of yours enough?

The day you found that dog, Gods above, you refused to leave the camp until Lae'zel dragged you out. Then the owlbear! Halsin was not a damn help as he also pet the creature too.

Strange, he misses those chaotic days at times… Especially Gale.

"Mine," With a raised eyebrow, "Says the vampire who cuddles with said owlbear when it is having a nightmare." The indignant look he gives you makes you chuckle, "I only brought it up because…" His hand on your stomach slides up your chest until it reaches your face, a sad face. "Family with you… I dream of it. Of us."

He can see them, though the tadpole is long gone, the vampire can peer into your mind. Share thoughts and feelings between the bond of master and spawn— Lovers. The dreams are vivid, he can hear and picture the child that looks like him but shares parts of you too.

A family.

Your mind feels him sneer, the dislike, the fear. The fear of being a terrible father, be like how Cazador was with his family—turning and enslaving them.

"Astarion," Staring up as he moves to pin you down, "Ah!" Biting your neck and drinking from you.

"Ask me for anything and it will be yours," His lips bloodied, "This however I can't."

You are disappointed but you understand Astarion may never be in the right mindset to have a family. Too much trauma that though you tried helping him, it festers in him never to truly heal.

His forehead rests on yours, his fingers intertwined with yours keeping your hands pinned down above your head.

Sex is different this time. Of course, it feels good– Great, but this time he entertained something you hadn't expected him to do. "You... Don't have… Astarion, you don't need to." The way he fucks you is as if he was going to breed a child into you. As if every round is driven with the intention of seeing your stomach swell with his child.

It is a fantasy he entertains, speaking the filthiest words as you cry out for him. Maybe he is trying to make up to you for his rejection, you don't know. You do know after, in the silence of the aftermath, as you play with his messy white curls, his hand rubs your stomach.

A longing that he cannot ever give you this one desire.

[medra-gonbites]

Roll Initiative

A one shot chapter multi-chapter fic for @bloodweaveweek 2024

Day 7 | Alternate Universe

Word Count: 2,529

NSFW - Gambling, Teasing, Heavy Smut

“Roll a perception check!” Gale said.

“Come on!” Protested Astarion, “Can’t you just tell me what’s in the room? Do I really have to roll the bloody die every time I want to do something?”

“That’s how the game works Astarion,” Wyll sighed, “Please, listen to the Dungeon Master and roll the perception check!”

Astarion begrudgingly seized the die twenty. He shuffled it in his hand a few times before dropping it on the wooden surface of the table below him. It tumbled sporadically before landing in one of its triangular faces. One.

“You see nothing, hear nothing and smell nothing. As far as you are concerned there isn’t even a room there.” Gale declared, leaning back on his chair, his arms crossed and an impassable look on his face.

“Oh come the fuck on!” Astarion snarled, punching the table with one fist.

Wyll burst out laughing, his character sheet flying away with the power of his breath.

Astarion glared at Gale. If he didn’t know any better he would suspect that the die was loaded. 

It was his first time playing a Dungeon and Dragon campaign after Wyll had successfully worn him down to the idea. He felt absolutely ridiculous.

This type of game was not really his cup of tea, but Wyll was a really good friend and he had practically begged him to join. Apparently their party missed a player or some lame excuse like this. It didn’t make sense because when he had arrived at Gale’s, only Wyll had shown up. Apparently the three other participants had canceled at the last minute. 

Lucky Bastards. 

Before he was able to escape from this nerdish hell, Gale, the king of nerds it seemed, had proposed to do a quick and easy campaign to ease up Astarion in this new world. Not at all eased up right now it actually felt like he was being hazed like a newbie.

Gale was looking at him above his DM screen, squinting, an amused glint in his eyes and a cheeky smile etched on his face. The tip of his tongue darted out to lick his bottom lip. For a moment Astarion wondered if he had seen something there. A slight flash of lust in his gaze as it trailed up and down his body. But he was probably projecting. 

He was not sure if it was the commanding tone, the intelligent eyes or the fleshy pink lip budding from his lush beard, but he could not help but find him fascinatingly handsome… For a nerd. 

----------------------------------------------------------

Wyll left shortly after the campaign ended. They had defeated a hobgoblin sorcerer and rescued the nobleman whom a mysterious dwarf had asked them to find. Their characters had won a few gold coins, and they themselves had drunk a few cold beers.

Astarion was surprised and a bit ashamed to admit he did like the game after all. It was stupid and random but very creative and fun. Although he had strong suspicion that  Gale and Wyll had thoroughly enjoyed making him the fall guy of the evening. 

Stabbing himself in the rib while trying to attack, tripping over a stick, failing to read a parchment resulting in his character scorching his face… etc. Frankly he had almost felt bullied.

Gale was clearing the table as Astarion was finishing his drink and slowly packing his own things. His lips around the throat of the bottle, Astarion paused mid sip, mesmerized by the game master’s hand for a moment: neatly stacking the lore books and gathering the dice in a miniature wooden chest his slander fingers were fluttering about. Astarion suddenly had the intrusive urge to lick them.

“So. Did you like it?” 

Gale's voice snatched him out of his lewd reverie. He felt his cheeks start to burn. He cleared his throat, downed his beer, and looked up to meet the brown gaze of the game master on him. He wondered if Gale could see that he was blushing. He was smiling at him. The same mischievous smile as earlier.

“It was alright.” Astarion admitted casually, making sure to hide his enthusiasm, “You could have dialed the persecution down though…”

“Apologies” Gale chuckled, “I assure you it was not personal.” 

Astarion could feel the tension between them. Now that Wyll was gone it was evident. Tangible almost. Thick enough to be cut with a knife. He caught Gale’s eyes lingering on his neck and collarbone. The latter diverted his stare immediately when he realized he had been caught. 

Astarion walked up to him. He waved a hand through his hair, caressing along the nap of his neck and landing on his sternum, subtly inviting the other man’s eyes there.  Standing mere inches from Gale he planted his eyes in his.

“Is it true? Or were you trying to teach me a lesson?” He inquired.

“What… What kind of lesson?” Gale stuttered.

“Putting me in my place… so to speak?”

Gale smirked. Astarion had placed it. There was some kind of power play at hand. As the man stroked his chin Astarion had to refrain from lunging at him and rub his face in the scruff of his cheeks.

“Come now,” Gale said softly, “You are not an hardcore player I figured, but all are welcome in this game. That’s the beauty of it.”

He took a step closer, holding Astarion’s gaze, a hint of defiance animating his big brown eyes.

“However, If you roll a critical failure, I am going to play it out.” He added, “That’s the rule. Your dice rolls were simply terrible tonight…”

“I see.”

Astarion opened the little box and seized the die-twenty. He brought it up, and held it in between the two of them.

“Let’s verify that shall we?” He whispered.

Gale’s face initially betrayed his annoyance at Astarion’s manhandling of his stuff. But when Astarion began rolling the icosahedron suggestively between his middle finger and thumb, Gale's breath itched. His jaw slacked, his pupil blew out and a pearly tooth came to bite down on his plump lip. 

Bringing the fateful object to his lips, Astarion gave it a soft kiss.

“I want to kiss you now.”

Gale swallowed. Lip parted, half hooded lids, he was hazy with want. 

“Roll for it…”

Astarion let the die fall on the table. It tumbled for what seemed to be an eternity as it bounced roughly on its angles and apexes, its sharp corners clicking against the wood of the table. The two men were holding their breath. The roll finally came to a halt, landing steady on the hard surface. 15.

With urgency and passion, Gale and Astarion collided into each other's arms and their mouths crashed together in a heated kiss.  Astarion nipped at Gale bottom lip, the one he had teased him with earlier, eliciting a moan from the other man, that he felt vibrate in his mouth. 

Astarion’s hand grabbed Gale’s cheeks and neck and languidly made its way into the strands of his hair. He grabbed a fistfull and yanked his head back, revealing the blue roads that trailed down his jaw to his chest. 

His mouth slowly moved down grazing Gale’s bearded chin, descending and licking alongside the pulsing veins mapping his neck. He buried his face in the crook of his collarbone and sucked at the tanned flesh. Gale let out an outrageous whine that ignited a potent desire in Astarion's core. He could feel his hunger pooling in his abdomen as blood inflowed down south.

He tucked at Gale’s shirt and the latter took the hint, slipping the cotton garment off, exposing the hairy plains of his chest. Astarion brought a hand upwards and laid it out on Gale’s heart, feeling the soft fuzz under his palm, squeezing his breast. He was toned and firm. Quite an impressive form for a dork. This night had certainly taught Astarion a few lessons. One being the classical “thou shalt not judge a book by its cover”. The other, that DnD was way more fun than he had anticipated.

Gale claimed his mouth once more. He sneaked a hand under Astarion’s shirt, who understood the unspoken request, and in turn, removed it and sent it flying, discarded, on the floor. Gale’s thumbs flicker over the peak of Astarion’s nipple, causing a groan in response that only coaxed Gale on.

One hand still on Gale’s chest, Astarion began to caress downwards, fondling his belly, sliding lower and lower all the way down further to his mid center. He tentatively pinched at the hem of his trousers, brushing against the skin of his pelvis. He could feel a slickness had dampened the area.

Astarion stopped their kiss and reached out for the die once more.

“I want you to go down on me.” He said.

Gale looked at him hungrily and began to lower himself down, but Astarion’s other hand on his hair held him firmly in place. He brought the dice to Gale's lips. As his partner had done before, he kissed the die with lechery, eyes blown out and dark. 

“Roll for it…”

With a flick of the wrist Astarion threw the die. The pallet of triangles rolled across the table with speed, almost falling over its edge. Luckily it stopped its course just before it could plummet off and stilled within eyesight of the two impatient men. 18.

Gale dropped to his knee without hesitation. He vehemently undid the belt and fastening of Astarion’s jeans and worked him out of his underwear. Astarion’s erection sprung free, his cock hard and bobbing, already leaking at the tip, as evidenced by the telltale stain on his boxer shorts. 

Gale smiled at this lovely and appetizing sight. He grazed the warm and soft skin of his lips, leaving wet kisses along Astarion’s shaft and sending a shiver of excitement down his spine. Breath was knocked out Astarion’s lungs when Gale’s mouth closed on his member and slid across its length, taking him in full until the base, with an obscene gurgling noise. 

As he pulled away, Gale ran the flat of his tongue on the underside of Astarion cock before curling around his tip. He began to bob his head in and out in a steady cadence, at times disrupting it to plunge the whole damn thing down his throat.

Grasping Astarion’s wrist, Gale guided his hand back to his head, encouraging the man to take the lead and steer him to his own preferred rhythm. Wrapping his fist in the brown mane, Astarion set out to push decisively as well as thrusting his hips forward, hitting deeper and deeper in the tight pipe of Gale’s throat.

As he heard coughing below, Astarion slowed down an instant. He looked down at Gale. Drool was running down his chin, tears streaming in the corner of his eyes, hungry eyes that begged for more. What a magnificent sight he was. Greedy little thing. Not only a game master, but a headmaster as well. 

With every bob of his head, every swirl of his tongue, Astarion could feel himself approaching the edge. But he could not allow that. There were way too many things he still wanted to do. He delicately cupped Gale's jaw and guided him back up. He welcomed him with a kiss, tasting himself on the other man’s lips.  

Astarion then grabbed Gale by the hips, turned him around and pressed his upper body against the table. He trailed a path of kisses down the man’s back as he was undoing and pulling his pants down. With a teasing finger Astarion probed delicately between his firm cheeks down below. 

He felt the hole, warm against the pad of his finger and slowly drew circles around the area, massaging tenderly, attentive to the pretty music of Gale’s gasps and moans. Astarion spit in his hand and coated the soft entrance with the slick of his saliva. He tentatively pressed a knuckle inside. Gale hissed in pleasure, pulsing around the digit, threatening to swallow it whole. 

Astarion progressively pushed deeper, burying himself inside, exploring the sensual cavern, and prodding the sensitive gland that sent waves of pleasure in the pit of Gale’s stomach. After a few minutes of careful kneading, Gale was already falling apart. Twitching and whimpering with every curl of Astarion’s finger, so keen on being touched. Astarion decided to take it up a notch and inserted a second finger, scissoring inside with ease, Gale’s hip bucked erratically against his wrist.

Soon it became apparent that Gale was close to coming undone, while Astarion could feel his aching cock request his attention. As he took his hard self in hand, he started lavishly rubbing it up and down between Gale’s fleshy cheeks. Gale was rolling his hips in unisson, grinding his own member between himself and the table. His tip was leaking on the wood, and the pressure was close to hurtful against the hard surface of the table. 

Astarion pressed his leaking tip on the warm entrance of Gale’s body; he spit another long filament of drool which he spread generously around the area using his cock. Bending forward over Gale’s back, he nipped at his earlobe and let out a subtle moan into his ear, sending a jolt of electricity down the other man’s spine. 

“Do you want it?” He asked, pinning him down under his body, ready to penetrate Gale and Gale oh so ready to receive him.

“Please… Yes…” Gale’s voice came ragged and strained.

“Roll for it…” He ordered, squeezing Gale’s ass, spreading it wider.

Gale let out a disapproving groan. He crawled to reach for the die all the way across the table. He weakly shook the die a few times before dropping it next to him. Astarion laughed as he saw the fateful face of the die taunting him yet again. 1.

With a resigned sigh, Astarion pulled away from Gale, tucking his cock back in his briefs, the fabric tenting from the pressure of his erected sex. He pulled his pants up and picked up his shirt on the floor. Gale remained splayed on the table, dumbstruck for a moment. Eventually he propped himself on his elbows and turned around to face Astarion, incredulous.

“Really?!” He exclaimed.

Astarion shrugged, now fully dressed, throwing the strap of his bag over his shoulder, before approaching the other man once more. He planted a gentle peck on his forehead, then lower on his cheek, before claiming his lips with a sultry yet tender kiss. Breaking away he laid his forehead upon Gale’s.

“That’s the rule…” He said, before adding with a naughty smirk, “Your dice rolls were simply terrible tonight…” 

Before Gale could voice his protest, Astarion stifled his rants with his tongue. 

Pulling away from the kiss, leaving Gale dazed and disoriented, half naked on the dining room table, Astarion headed for the exit. As he seized the knob on the front door, he turned around to face the confused Dungeon Master he was about to leave, wanton, panting and ruined.

“Same time next week?” He purred, “I’ll get my own dice.” 

It promised to be an interesting campaign.

Read the rest in chapter 2!

[roguishcat]

Augustarion Day 2 – Pool Party 🌊

This was supposed to be 500 words. It isn't. Also, it was supposed to be a fun, light-hearted drabble. I have no clue how it turned into angst/comfort. Nevertheless, I enjoyed writing it and hope you will enjoy reading it! ❤️

Day 1 - Strawberries, Day 4 - Mythologies, Day 6 - Cream, Day 7 - Underwear, Day 14 - Protective, Day 15 - Shirt that goes hard

Pairing: the reader (You) x Astarion

Tags: Insecurities, mild angst/comfort, implied nudity

It was yet another boiling hot day and the group was suffering. Having to wear heavy leather armour and full supply packs whilst encountering a veritable cornucopia of monsters certainly did not help their mood.

When you saw the glittering blue thread of the river on the horizon, you felt like falling on your knees and weeping tears of joy. The rest seemed to be just as excited as you at the prospect of washing the grime and dirt off their sweat slicked bodies. Even Lae’zel for once did not complain when Gale tentatively suggested that they continue on in that direction.

Your steps quickened and after another hour you finally felt a cool breeze caress your cheeks. You looked over at your rogue walking a little behind you, the gentle wind teasing his silver curls. Astarion was the least affected by the weather but even he seemed to visibly relax when he realised that they would be stopping shortly.

“Phew, soldier. It is hotter than the hells today. Can’t wait to go for a dip. In fact,” Karlach grinned, “can our leader be persuaded to stay here till tomorrow?”

“Well, it would certainly be good for the morale,” Shadowheart agreed, letting her pack drop with a thud. “I, for one, am not moving anywhere until I wash the viscera out of my hair.”

“Tsk, vanity is a vice, dear,” Astarion teased, moving to set up his tent.

“Says the vainest person in Faerûn and beyond,” Shadowheart shot back, flipping her hair over her shoulder.

“Most certainly! But you see, it would be a sin against all creatures to deny them the opportunity to gaze in admiration upon my beauty. You agree my sweet, don’t you?” he grinned, looking at you fondly.

“Perhaps, although when it comes to looks, I’m afraid this lot certainly could dethrone you, Astarion. You are an attractive bunch,” you smile at your friends as they prepared to finally, finally enjoy the weather rather than suffer in the heat.

“Well, I don’t know about the rest, but I am just happy that we aren’t getting attacked for once. I am half-expecting something to jump out the bushes at any moment. We need to stay vigilant,” Wyll reminded everyone.

“Argh, monster hunters,” Astarion scoffed, “so paranoid.”

You didn’t hear Wyll’s reply, choosing to step into your tent and begin to shed the layers upon layers that you had on.

As you undressed, you scowled as you uncovered yet another scar. Spells healed cuts and wounds well enough, but unfortunately your body was covered in reminders of battles fought.

You tried not to think about. You had bigger, more urgent matters to attend do. But, as you thought of Astarion’s beautiful, unmarked face, you felt an ugly feeling rise as you thought of how a creature as perfect as your elf would think of you when the adventure would come to its inevitable end.

You knew he was fond of you. Knew that he was grateful for what you did for him. And maybe that would be enough for a while still. But you also were under no illusion about what would happen once it was no longer necessary for your merry little band to stay together. The end of the Absolute would probably mean the end of this alliance. They would all carry on their personal quests, fighting their battles, living their lives. And you would let them go. Let Astarion go too. Because you loved him and realised that there would be nothing worse than deny him the freedom that he so desperately fought for.

You heard splashing and laughter from outside the tent, making you smile. You didn’t feel like joining in, but perhaps you could go for a little swim once everyone settled in for the night. Yes, a midnight dip sounded heavenly.

Hours trickled by and finally everyone bid each other goodnight and soon all was still. You gathered your supplies and put on a thin cotton slip. It was not something that you would usually dare to venture out in, but everyone was clearly resting, so what was the harm?

Quietly, you slipped out and walked barefoot along the shore, careful to avoid the sharper rocks, and made your way away from camp.

As you were about put your things down, you felt the fine hairs on the back of your neck rise. Someone or something was watching you.

“Astarion, if you want to catch me unawares, then you shouldn’t have doused yourself in your signature scent. I could smell you before I could hear you,” you turned, your eyes locking with ruby ones.

“Oh, please! I was hardly being subtle,” he took a step towards you, “in fact, I was all but stomping my feet not to startle you.”

“Sure you were,” your lips quirked into a smile and you shivered, suddenly feeling very exposed as he levelled you with an intense, hungry look.

“Any particular reason for you waiting until now to go down to the river, hm? I thought you just couldn’t wait to cool down.”

You gripped the towel tighter, not wanting to talk about your insecurities. As far as everyone was concerned, you were the confident, daring leader. The one who threw yourself headfirst into the epicentre of any battle. And you would rather walk on red-hot coals than admit that you were self-conscious about your body to Astarion, out of all people. Being in a situationship with an impossibly gorgeous vampire did not mean that you felt worthy of being in a relationship with the said mind-numbingly beautiful vampire.

This wasn’t the most exposed you were, you all but shared a tent and were intimate on several occasions. But sex was about being lost in the moment, there was hopefully little opportunity for him to see the full extent of the damage done to your body over the years.

“Darling?”

Your eyes snapped to his fingers as he reached out to cradle your wet face in his hands.

Shit.

Were you crying? You so were not standing near naked in the middle of nowhere with your intoxicatingly beautiful lover and pathetically crying because you felt that you could never, ever hold a candle to him even on your best day. Except apparently, you were.

“I- I’m sorry. I guess the heat got to me. You should go back to camp.”

“I’m staying.”

“No,” you wanted to sound firm, but it came out far less certain than intended.

“Why?”

You pulled on the hem of your slip down subconsciously and looked away. Astarion was quick to catch on. His eyes softened and his hands fell to your shoulders.

“Darling, how many times do I have to tell you how beautiful you are for you to believe it? I can hardly keep away from you.”

“I know. But that’s hardly attraction. I am just, kind of, there. And you are grateful and, I suppose, maybe you-”

He scoffed. “Don’t insult me by insinuating that I have been forcing myself to come to your tent every night for the past several months. You were the first to tell me that I don’t have to do anything I don’t want to do. And now, I very much want to do this.”

You saw a flash of a blade in your peripheral and then felt the fabric slide down as it fell to the ground. You dropped the folded towel you were still holding in a futile attempt to keep what was left of your clothes on you.

“Perhaps a more hands on demonstration of how I feel about you is in order. Time to be a man of deeds, rather than of words, so to speak.”

His lips found your neck as he threw the dagger on the ground and gripped your waist tight, pulling you closer to his body.

“But my scars-”

“Love, I don’t want to hear a single word out of your mouth unless it is my name, are we clear?”

“But-”

“You told me that my scars don’t define me. That I am more than just my past. It is baffling that you would show endless kindness to anyone but yourself. So let us not waste another moment. No more words.”

You nodded and your eyes fluttered closed, submitting to his eager hands.

“This is what happens when we have no opportunity for taking some time to ourselves. Yet another drawback of staying within earshot of everyone. We are overdue for a little private pool party, hm?” he said, lifting you up and carrying you to the river.

And then Astarion descended onto you, mapping your body with his lips, committing your sighs and moans to memory.

💖 Tag list 💖:

@ninty900, @ayselluna, @dajeong, @ravenswritingroom,

@misscrissfemmefatale,

@clazberryk, @anukulee,

@preciouslittlebhaalbae,

@sh3rl0ck, @mellowenthusiast2299,

@fleetstreet78, @starlight-rogue,

@obsessedwhyyes, @arzen9

[astarionbraiinrot]

Last Call

Chapter 1: Astarion

Sequel to One for the Road

Read on AO3

It’s a few hours after dawn, and Astarion sits in the rocking chair near the bedroom window, just out of reach of the morning sun, contemplating the child in his arms. A tiny thing. Pudgy cheeks turned rosy after a successful first feed, courtesy of its mother. Pointed ears just slightly too big for its head. A mop of curly white hair in wild disarray. Pale green eyes squinting back at him with the slightly-disgruntled turnip-esque look inherent to newborns. A perfectly healthy baby boy, weighing in at just over seven pounds, and born at roughly 7-ish that morning, the first cries of this brand-new life coinciding with the dawning sun’s feeble attempts at projecting warmth into the midwinter chill of the frosty Nightal morning.

Looking back, the number seven had played a not-insignificant role in many of the major events of Astarion’s life. According to the records he and Tav had managed to dig up, he had been born near the end of Flamerule, the seventh month of the year, and he had died in that same month just a tenday shy of his fortieth birthday. He had been one of seven spawn, then one of seven thousand and seven. When he’d been kidnapped and tadpoled by Mindflayers, he’d quickly found himself part of a group of seven strangers traveling together to find a cure for the ticking timebombs in their brains. Then, almost as quickly, that group of strangers had become a party of seven friends-turned-adventurers on a quest to save the world. He’d stabbed Cazador fourteen times the night he'd taken back his life and regained his freedom, seven to kill him and seven more just because he deserved it. Their journey to defeat the Netherbrain and the Dead Three’s Chosen, from nautiloid to giant brain sinking into the Chionthar, took seven harrowing months. And he’d found out he was going to be a father for the first time just seven days before helping to crash that giant brain into the river. Now here he sat, making some rather embarrassing cooing noises he’d never admit to and gently rocking his seventh child.

Gods, his seventh child. He’d had months to wrap his head around the concept, and still, here he was, absolutely baffled as to how they’d gotten here. Even he could admit, privately, in his own mind, that seven was maybe a slightly unreasonable number of children to have. Especially for two Elves. Hells, most Elven couples barely managed two or three children over as many centuries, yet somehow, he and Tav had exceeded half a dozen in less than two decades. And while Elven children were uncommon, Dhampir were rarer still, with all sources firmly insisting that only True Vampires could sire them and that spawn were entirely sterile.

Shows what they know.

Even now, seven(!) children and almost twenty years later, they still truly had no idea why they were the exception to either rule. With their eldest, they had assumed it was a fluke of the tadpole (once he’d stopped hyperventilating long enough to have a conversation anyway). That, along with allowing him to walk in the sun, touch running water, and enter homes uninvited, it had temporarily knocked some part of his biology back close enough to “living” and whoops now they’re going to be parents. A once-in-an-unlifetime opportunity that had subsequently disappeared again along with all the tadpole’s other gifts.

It was a very sound theory too, if he did say so himself. Or at least it had been, right up until the moment Tav had informed him they’d managed the supposedly-impossible a second time. Or, more accurately, a second and third time, because clearly they were incapable of doing anything by halves. That time had coincided with some magical experimentation he’d undergone courtesy of Gale which, while not fully having the desired results, had given him an entire glorious month of being near-mortal enough to eat real food and walk in the sun. And so, once again, they’d made the (very reasonable in his opinion) decision to attribute this one to magic and unusual circumstances affecting biology in strange ways, blamed Gale this time, and got on with their lives as a happy family of five, confident in the knowledge that there was no chance of this happening again.

Of course, just over a year later when it did in fact very much happen again, they were forced to consider alternative causes to what was rapidly looking like the beginnings of a small army of children. Their friends’ theories had ranged from “killing Cazador could have made Astarion a True Vampire on a technicality,” to “the large number of lives lost in the Mindflayer invasion might have created a surplus of Elven souls waiting to reincarnate,” to the much more pragmatic “you are incapable of keeping your hands off one another and this is the expected result of such lack of willpower,” which to Lae’zel’s credit, was at the very least a contributing factor.

When the fifth one had happened a couple years later, followed rather quickly by the sixth not long after, he and Tav had decided that maybe it was time they sought out help with preventative measures. They’d paid Shadowheart a visit as soon as Tav was well enough to travel, hoping that her Clerical training and knowledge of medicine and potions would be up to the task. It was, and that had worked quite well for the next ten years, which turned out to be just long enough for them to get complacent, and now here they were again.

It wasn’t that they hadn’t wanted children, per se, moreso that they just hadn’t considered it could be an option since it wasn’t supposed to be possible, so they’d never really thought about whether they wanted to be preventing it or not until they’d already had four toddlers running around. But, unplanned as they were (and he never was good at plans anyway), he’d been relieved to find that loving them was not the arduous task he’d feared it might be. Quite the opposite, actually. He had not been prepared for just how much he could love them, these amazing little creatures that were somehow, miraculously, part him. But he did, with all the deepest parts of the heart he’d been sure he didn’t possess. Each one was a gift he’d never expected to receive, or even known he’d wanted, but gods was he so glad that they were here.

Even now, when he finds himself more and more wondering where the time has gone, one child just barely grown and most of the rest nearly there, all navigating life with grace and confidence and a drive for independence he knows they are ready for but he isn’t, happiness is the emotion he encounters the most these days. And, oh, wasn’t that just a kick to the chest? No one had told him that all the parts you prepare for, the crying, sleepless nights, toilet training, homework, sibling rivalries, puberty, broken hearts, dating, sleepless nights again, all the parts you expect to be hard, that those were actually the easy parts. No one had warned him that the hard part was having to put down the reins, letting them grow and navigate the world, seeing them try and fail and try again, fall and shake off the bruises and get back up. Spending the first half of their childhood hyper focused on keeping them safe, only for them to spend the second half excitedly forging a path out of that safety and into adventure as quickly as they can. He hadn’t known that watching his children experience life would feel like breaking his soul into pieces and setting them loose to run around outside his body discovering who they’ll be. Hadn’t prepared for an existence spent with his heart in his throat as he can only watch from the sidelines while they begin the journey of creating their own lives separate from him.

He absolutely does not get misty-eyed at that thought, and he’s only wiping his eyes because they itch, actually, and probably he’s suddenly developed a dust allergy just now because he definitely hasn’t shed even one tear over the idea of how quiet the house will be once they’re all grown and gone and he’s no longer spending his evenings pretending he can't hear the whispered giggles and gossip from their bedrooms as they utterly fail to hide the fact that they’re awake far too late for people who have school in the morning.

Gods, it must be terribly dusty in here.

Sitting here, holding his son and thinking about this family he’s built, it feels… strangely peaceful. A peace he knows will be shattered the moment the child in his arms turns his attention from scowling at his father to demanding another meal, but peaceful nonetheless. There wasn’t anything else that needed his attention at the moment. The midwife had attended to the cleanup before departing, making sure that the soiled bed linens were disposed of and replaced while he’d helped Tav to the bath and set about preparing her some breakfast. He’d sent a message to the neighbors asking them to inform the girls that their mother and new sibling were doing well and they could meet the baby when they got home from school and yes you still have to go to school today, yes really, yes I know I’m awful and mean and cruel and entirely unreasonable I love you anyway now go to school. Then he’d used their Sending Stone to ask Gale to please inform his eldest of the news and that he’d be sending funds for a teleportation circle to bring her home in a few days once her classes at Blackstaff were over for winter break, after which they’d had a brief discussion to adjust their holiday plans so that Gale’s family would now be coming to them for this year’s Winter Solstice Simril festival instead.

And so, with his to-do list cleared, he’d turned his mind to the task he’d been given by his darling wife, who was currently taking a well-earned rest in the bed nearby.

After both Tav and the baby had received a thorough bathing and a hearty meal, she’d placed their swaddled son in Astarion’s arms with instructions that their child needed a name, and since he was the one who’d insisted that they did not need to prepare a boy’s name, that meant he could do the work of coming up with one now while she would be taking a nap. And, if she awoke to find their son still nameless, she’d make the executive decision to name him after Gale. A very motivating threat, considering the man had already managed to lure away one of Astarion’s children into academia and wizardry of all things, a fact that he was not at all still minorly irritated over thank you very much, and he’d be damned if he’d let the wizard’s ego get any bigger by giving him a namesake on top of it. Absolutely not.

Thus, he’d spent the better part of the last hour considering this tiny new life and what moniker might fit him. A daunting task, really. Despite neither he nor Tav really being ones for tradition or holding to any particular religion, they knew that, for Elves, the choosing of a name was not something to be taken lightly, especially a child’s name. When they’d discovered they were expecting their eldest, finding out that they’d somehow accidentally done the supposedly-impossible and made an entire person at quite frankly the worst possible time had left them understandably quite anxious and a little terrified, so they had turned to Halsin for advice. In an effort to soothe their nerves, the druid had told them that, in Elven communities, a child’s birth was a momentous occasion, often drawing the entire neighborhood to gather and wait with eager anticipation for word of the new arrival. Once born, the child would be brought out by the new parents and presented to an elder relative, who would officially welcome them to the community by announcing the name chosen for them to those gathered. The name would usually reflect something unique about the child, or maybe convey what their presence meant to their parents, or might simply be a heartfelt wish for the child’s future. With rare exception, Elves would retain faint memories of these moments throughout their lives, even as other memories of childhood faded.

While hearing that had actually helped Tav to calm a little, it had done the exact opposite for Astarion, mostly just adding a layer of sadness to the fear coloring his already racing thoughts. The feeling that, by mere virtue of having no known family, they’d be denying their child what was apparently a core memory and treasured experience for their people, had broken some tiny little thing inside him, like a sliver off the edge of a pane of glass that leaves a weak point capable of shattering the rest. The whole thing just sounded so… nice. The thought of so many people eagerly awaiting your arrival, purely because your mere existence was a gift. The idea of being so wanted, so loved, before any of those gathered had even met you yet. He had wondered, briefly, if anyone had done that for him? Gathering around and celebrating simply because he was him and he was here. He had no memories of his mortal life, no family history to pass down or stories from his own youth that he could share with this child. Hells, he still had his childhood name, had died before he’d had the chance to even begin putting any thought into what name he might choose for himself when he came of age, what would represent who he had wanted to be.

Jaheira had told him at some point that his name meant “little star.” He’d had no idea. Had had no cause or opportunity to know it, and no one to ask even if he had. Was that how his parents had thought of him, a shining point of light, all bright and dazzling? He’d wanted to believe that there had been thought put into it. That someone had cared enough about his existence that they’d taken the time to find just the right name, one that would convey what they’d felt, hoped, dreamed for him. Though, whatever the intentions behind his name were, he was confident that he hadn’t lived up to them. He certainly hoped that none of what had occurred in the last two hundred years of his life and been on their wish list, anyway.

But, he’d thought, if he couldn’t provide this child with the ancestral welcome they deserved, then maybe the weird little family they’d somehow built out of a disparate group of traumatized worm-filled strangers could be enough. Maybe he could do for his own child what he’d decided to believe had been done for him and give them a name that was built on something good, something warm and positive, even if he was scared shitless at this whole situation.

And so, with that in mind, each of their children’s names had been chosen with the utmost care and reverence for the little life they’d made, with the hope that they would grow up feeling a connection and sense of belonging that neither he nor Tav had known, something to provide a root in the soil of the extended family they’d defied gods to build. A desperate wish that their children would always feel, no matter what, that they were loved, wholly and unconditionally, and know that home was always waiting for them.

The baby lets out a soft grunt and shifts in his blanket, at some point having chosen sleep over continuing to stare at his father while he’d been lost in thought. As Astarion takes in this tiny brand-new being, not even a half-day old, a surprise but welcome epilogue to a story they’d thought finished years ago, he tries to focus his tired mind on this important task laid at his feet. But it’s been over a day since he last tranced. The adrenaline of this whole event had kept him going for a while, but that had worn off hours ago, and while he’d pushed through the exhaustion to make sure that Tav and the baby were taken care of, he can feel himself losing the battle now that things have settled down. His eyes close without his permission. He leans back in the chair, cradling his son securely to his chest as muscle memory from the countless times he’s done this before slides over him like a well-worn glove. He inhales deeply, taking in that new baby smell he loves so much, and promises to himself that he’ll just rest his eyes for ten minutes.

Fifteen at most.

Definitely no more than twenty.

As he slips into Reverie, his mind drifts back to every time he’d been in this position over the years, and all the events that had led up to those moments, searching for inspiration. The initial fear that had reared its head less and less each time. The cautious excitement every time he first heard the faint double-time beat of a tiny heart. The wonder of feeling first kicks from a little creature so eager to make its presence known. The anxiety and thrill when there had been two. The pain and grief and terror when it had once gone so wrong. The adrenaline and panic and relief when it had once gone too right. The bone-deep exhaustion and elation and happy tears and pure joy that always came at the end when hearing that first cry. Each time, a small bundle gently placed in his arms. For each one, renewed awe that he could ever get to have something this unequivocally good. Always, a whispered introduction.

Hello, darling. It’s so nice to finally meet you.

[nebulablakemurphy]

Moves & Countermoves (Part 21)

Summary: No one ever wins the games, even fourteen years later, Y/N is still playing.

Prologue | 1 | 2 | 3 | 4 | 5 | 6 | 7 | 8 | 9 | 10 | 11 | 12 | 13 | 14 | 15 | 16 | 17 | 18 | 19 | 20

They try something new, in the form of Prim visiting Peeta with Y/N. Katniss and Haymitch watching from the viewing window. Things are going well…until they’re not. The news of Peeta’s family sends him spiraling. Yelling and cursing Katniss, saying it’s her fault that Snow bombed twelve. That she’s a threat. Telling Prim to kill her.

“Peeta, what you’re saying isn’t real.” Prim says, in a whisper. Withdrawing from the edge of his bed.

“She’s a monster, Prim!” Peeta insists, the angry vein pulsing in his neck.

“Peeta,” Y/N calls his attention back to her. “You’re safe. No one is going to hurt you, I’m here.”

“She’ll kill you too. She’ll kill all of us. She’s a mutt, the Capitol created to destroy us!”

Nothing settles him after that. The doctor has to use a tranquilizer for the first time in days.

Y/N excuses herself to the opposite side of the viewing glass. Catching Katniss’ gaze, holding it as she moves closer. “It’s good to see you up and about. How are you feeling?”

Katniss says nothing, catapulting herself into her mentor’s arms.

“I’m here,” Y/N assures her. “I’ll be here.”

————————————————————————

Haymitch escorts Katniss’ to the Nut in District Two. Y/N hangs back in Thirteen, with the kids and Peeta. Cashmere is sent to stand in for her best friend, which Katniss seems to appreciate, allowing her to weigh in on dialogue for the propo to sway the loyalists.

“Plutarch wrote a speech for you.” Haymitch tells Katniss, as they get into place near the tunnel left for civilians to escape, after the bombs were launched to bury the Nut and all the weapons inside.

The suggestion was Gale’s.

“Killing isn’t personal, Katniss. I figured you of all people would understand that.”

That’s what he told her the night before. Only she doesn’t agree, “killing is always personal.”

Cashmere takes the paper from his hands, reading it thoroughly. “She’s not saying this, they’ll tear her apart.”

“I never said it was a good speech,” Haymitch fires back. “Look, Katniss, you have to remember that you’re talking to everyone. Not just the people in the districts, but the Capitol, survivors from Two. You want them to lay their weapons down, so you might want to experiment with a little sensitivity.”

Katniss nods, though it isn’t her strong suit. “This is Katniss Everdeen, speaking to all the loyalists, from the heart of District Two-”

She is cut short by the train behind her, screeching to a halt.

Boggs wants to get her back, away from the tracks and the people who will soon emerge. But Katniss will hear none of it, especially after shots are fired. Ending up with a bullet in her own gear and unconscious all the way back to Thirteen.

Y/N finds them upon return. “What happened?” She asks Haymitch.

“Bruised ribs, bruised lung.” Haymitch runs a hand over his face. “It’s my fault. Shouldn’t have let her go.”

“Haymitch, you know there’s no way we could’ve stopped her.” Y/N sighs.

“No, but she’s more likely to listen to you than me.”

“I don’t think that’s true.” Y/N swallows.

“How are things? How are the kids?”

“They’re good, they missed you though.” I missed you.

“And Peeta?”

“They showed him the propo, he has real memories of Katniss.” The one’s the Capitol couldn’t taint because they didn’t own them. “He wants to see her.”

“You think that’s a good idea?” Haymitch wonders, feeling his wife reach for his hand.

“I know he’s in there. We can’t give up, there has to be a way.”

“No one’s giving up,” Haymitch assures her. “When Katniss is cleared to leave medical, we’ll ask her to see him. Tell her that he wants to see her. I think that’s progress in itself.”

“Yeah,” Y/N nods.

“Come ‘ere.” Haymitch pulls her against his chest, pressing his lips to the crown of her head. “We didn’t come this far, just to come this far.”

Again she nods, fisting the fabric of his uniform in her hands. Somehow he makes it hurt less.

No one could carry this burden alone, instead they learned to shoulder it together. To trade off when the other was weak, they learned to be two halves of a whole. Trying to pull away from that now seems impossible; excruciating at the very least.

Only when she is there, resting safely against his beating heart, Haymitch can breathe again. “I love you, Y/N.” More than you will ever know.

“I love you too.”

————————————————————————

Days pass, Finnick and Annie get married. It’s beautiful, everything they deserve. They’re glowing; so in love.

Daisy squeals her distaste during the ceremony, until Y/N manages to quiet her with milk.

“I hear ya, kid.” Johanna adds, under her breath.

At the reception everyone dances. Not Johanna. She doesn’t understand how these people can prance around while the world is going to shit. Brooding until little hands pull her to the dance floor. Everest and Arista Abernathy always do get the best of her. Just like everyone else, she was begrudgingly wrapped around their fingers from the day they met..

“Let me go.” Johanna finally demands, with a smile.

Cashmere is their next victim, any and all bystanders are fair game.

Katniss narrowly escapes; finding Johanna among the crowd.

“You saw Peeta, didn’t you?” The victor of District Seven asks. “Did you tell him hi for me? We’re old friends, you know. We had adjoining cells in the Capitol, we’re very familiar with each other’s screams.”

“I’m going to kill Snow.” Katniss says; her tone is cool, calculated. Watching Prim take Daisy from Y/N, so she too can join the crowd. She knows that if she dies, to end all of this, it will be worth it. Prim will have her mother and her former mentors to get her through. She would be taken care of. “Nothing good is safe while he’s alive, and I can’t make another speech about it. No more cameras, no more propos, no more games. He needs to see my eyes when I kill him.”

Johanna’s scowl tips up into a grin, “now you’re talking.”

“I need to find a way to the Capitol while everyone is looking the other way.”

“I hear the medics talking, they’re shipping supplies to the front lines from hanger two, around midnight tonight. Medicine, painkillers, I was gonna go steal some for myself, but I guess I could just stay here and cover for you.” Johanna turns to looks at her dead in the eyes. “Anyone can kill anyone, Katniss. Even a president. You just have to be willing to sacrifice yourself.”

————————————————————————

When Katniss disappears that night and crops up later with troops in the Capitol, Haymitch wishes he could say he’s surprised. But Katniss is who she is and he expects nothing less.

Coin can’t bring her back now. Instead she shoots for plan B, deploying the ‘star squad’ to join her. “It’ll be perfectly safe, you’ll be days behind the main troops. This is just to rally continued support and to document our journey to victory, spearheaded by familiar faces. I’d greatly appreciate if one or both of you could be there. Peeta is being deployed soon as well.”

“Peeta?” Y/N stammers, “Peeta can’t be anywhere near Katniss, let alone a war zone. There are too many triggers.”

“Dr. Aurelius has assured me that you’ve made leaps and bounds together, aiding in Peeta’s recovery. I’m sure that he would benefit from having you there.” President Coin gives Y/N a pointed look.

“I need to discuss this with Haymitch, in private.” Y/N insists, before her husband has a chance to wring the other woman’s necklace.

“Of course.” Alma nods, “I hate to spring this on you, but we are pressed for time. I’ll need your answer by tonight.”

Part 22

Series Taglist: @praline357 @flowercrowns-goodvibes @justheretoparty420 @avocadotoastwithegg @treehouse-mouse @emo-markie @spilled-mi1k @magical-spit @greaser9902 @jessicamellarky @yourebuckingkiddingme @smuha2004 @sendhelplease @ninimackbrews @wittiestrain184 @r1dd1kulus @erenluvr69 @helpimhyperfixating @jackierose902109 @jellybear455 @dreammgc @dadbodfanatic-x @ftdtcmlovr @inky-sun @ms-brek-ker @undercover55655 @mischiefmanaged21 @avoxrising @koiphisch @drwho-ess @daisydaisybilly @misfits1a @nj01 @eruannaaa-blog

[simpcityy]

My Little Spawn Pt.7 (Dadstarion X Child!Reader)

Summary: Astarion was finally free from Cazador after being kidnapped by a mindflayer but he was stuck with one annoying task, you.

Disclaimer: I do not own Baldur's Gate 3 or any of its characters.

Word Count: 1.4K

Warnings: Use of (Y/N), Cazador, language, violence, spoilers for those who haven't gone far in the game, mentions of blood, animal death...Uhhh...I think that is all. MAJOR SPOILERS IF YOU AREN'T IN ACT 2 YET.

Author Notes: (PLEASE READ) I hope all of you are excited for this chapter, I know some of you have been waiting for an update. I will be updating more chapters less, I got a new job, so I've been trying to focus on that. Thank you for understanding my lack being online. So, these next chapters will just be mostly fillers to move faster on act 3 so we can get some father battle. So, this chapter and the next might feel empty or rushed because we are on part 7 and we haven't reach act 3 and Cazador hasn't made an appearance yet. I want this series to have at least a maximum of 12 chapters. As always, Thank you so much for the support! I should be updating the master list with all the links of each chapter soon. Remember to Reblog and like if you enjoy this series. I am happy to start a taglist for this series since this week I will be working on a story well two.

Every time they settle down for the night, Astarion would be pacing and complaining how they are wasting time, you could be in danger. “Astation, we need rest for any enemies up ahead” Gale began only to be yelled at by the pale elf. Everyone was on edge with Astarions foul mood keeping their distance from him, even Tav. Tav mostly kept to themselves as Astarion only glared the meanest eyes at them, spewing over and over it’s their fault. “We could've found them already but here you are all lazing around.” He crossed his arms sitting at his tent. “Alright fangs, we get it.” Karlach looks over, carrying over wood on her shoulder. “You are always welcome to go on your own and find them. We are all worried for the little soldier, but we need to be smart about this and not endanger them more” Astarion only looks away and sits alone in his tent missing his little spawn. 

You were running trying to avoid the shadow curse taking over you. You somehow escaped that cell, but it cost the life of a guard. All you could see is their life drained. You felt so bad but yet they tasted so sweet. You vowed yourself not a single word of this to Astarion. You were scared he was going to get mad. You ran over to a fire staying close to it whimpering. Hearing footsteps near you, you quickly crouch behind a large rock and peaked. Hoping whatever is coming near is friendly. “Halt! Who goes there!” A feminine voice calls out. “Come out or arrows would be fired” They threaten. You slowly walk out of your hiding spot. Gasps were heard, “It’s just a child” the woman walks over and smiles “Are you okay? We won’t hurt you.” She kneels down holding a touch. “I escaped from a big castle…” You whisper, staying close to your rock. “Castle? Moonrise towers.” One of them whispers to their leader. “Come, we have a safe place called the Last Light Inn, you will be safe there. There are children of your age as well.  “She gently took your hand and kept you close. “Harpers lets go before the Shadow Curse gets us.” She commands and walks down a path. 

You felt lost inside this inn. You watched as those same Tieflings from the Grove were playing a quiet game. You slowly walked over “Hi…can I play?” You placed your arms behind your back. They only look at you before going back to their game. You turned around ready to walk back to the chair you were in, but a hand grabbed your arm and spun you back to the Tiefling children. “Hey now, is that how we treat a hero? If I remember correctly, they helped us out back at the Grove.” Mol grins looking back at the children “So I reckon you reconsider their offer.” Once they see Mol, they quickly move over offering you a spot. You smile “Thank you!” You quickly sat on the open spot playing with them. 

Hours passed and you met many people, you caught up with Alfira but you noticed she seemed sad. You also noticed there are a couple of Tieflings missing but didn’t question it. You met Jaheira and Isobel along with many more. You stayed by Mol’s side befriending her. You munched on a piece of bread given by Jaheria when you looked overhearing a commotion. “Stay inside, could be dangerous” Alfira told you two before walking outside. You didn’t mind as you kept eating but hearing a voice you’ve missed so much; you dropped your bread. 

“Astarion!” You yelled running outside tearing up. “Stay back little one!” Jaheira warns as you go outside and slip past her. Astarion looks overhearing his name and swore his dead heart had a heartbeat again when he saw you alive and unharmed. He picked you up quickly and held you close, placing your head into the neck of his shoulder “Oh thank god your alive little spawn” He didn’t care who saw him, he was feeling many emotions. He kissed the top of your head. Mol walks over “They are the ones who saved us, and that is their daddy.” Astarion looks up hearing Mol “I’m just a caretaker” He rolls his eyes. The group can see their spawn companion is back to his normal self. 

After the group minus you, take some herbal medicine that makes you say the truth, you stay near Astarions side. “What have you been up to little Spawn.” He brushes your hair as you sit between the space of his legs. “I was locked up in a castle when I woke up. There were these people and they called me beautiful artwork.” You look up at him. He frowns “So they know about your situation. “He sighs “They aren’t wrong, your kind is an artwork to those who have bad intentions. Usually…you would…” He tries to find the right words “Not be breathing, not even a second you were born. Which explains why there isn’t a high population of little spawns like you, well Dhampirs. “He explains though he knew you weren’t paying attention as you were busy watching a weed flow by the wind. He chuckles to himself as you were easy to get distracted. You got up from your spot and walked over greeting everyone you missed, getting hugs from left to right. You even got a pat on the head from Lae’zel. Nighttime came and you pouted at Astarion “But I don’t want to!” You wiggle around in his arms. You didn’t want to stay in the camp again. “It’s for your own good, it’s too dangerous out there.” He sighs “Tav say something” He motions his eyes over to you. Tav only looks over before looking over to you, “(Y/N) it’s safer for you to stay at camp. You don’t want Astarion to be worried sick again.” They pat your head. You only pout before huffing “Fine” You finally relax in his arm. “And you are never going to leave my side anymore” Astarion placed you over his hip walking to his tent. 

Over the couple of days, you were learning many things about nature thanks to Halsin. You giggle as he shifts out of his bear form. “Again! Again!” You cheered. “Alright alright.” He chuckles trying his best to keep up with your energy. More days went by, and a new temporary companion joined the group, Arabella. It took some time for you to warm up and approach her after Astarion told you to not question anything about her parents. You stood near her and kept silent before she broke the silence “You can talk to me you know; I am nothing like those children from the Grove.” She looks at you. Sitting down next to her, you look at the ground before looking up to Gale who was at his tent giving you the thumbs up. You took a deep breath and looked at Arabella. “Would you like to be my friend?” The Tiefling smiles “Of course. I think I need a friend at this point in my life. “ 

Hours rolled by and Astarion sighs walking back to the camp after successfully being able to get inside moonrise towers and become part of the group for their plan. “You know I can’t wait for when we stab them in the back” He smirks before looking over to see you and Arabella playing catch with Scratch. Scratch gets the ball whenever you fail to catch it and rolls away from you. “Were they able to play with other children over at Cazador’s palace?” Tav walks over to Astarion. The pale elf lets out a small smile seeing how happy you look. “No…Cazador never lets them out of the palace, never thought of it since I thought they were a spawn. Sunlight is our number one enemy after all, but I think this…this is making them feel more connected to their…human side you can say…I haven’t heard them complain about blood hunger. Maybe this distracts them” He hums before walking over “(Y/N), time a bath and do not fight me on this” He began before seeing you dart off. “Come back here!” He yells Tav only chuckles crossing their arms and lean back a bit watching you slip past Astarions legs and escape every time from his grasp. Everything was slowly going back to where it should, minus the tadpole and mind flayer situation.

[son1c]

What happens to all your sonic prime ocs at the end?

i feel like i've answered this before... but when i looked, i couldn't find the ask i was thinking of... so maybe i just made that up. oh, well.

prism dies. you knew this already. android prism does not die. though, nine really wants to kill him for awhile there. but he finds he can't--or, more accurately, won't--do it. :)

bullet is freed from his full-time-no-benefits-basically-just-imprisonment "job" working for the chaos council. the flickies are ok. he succeeded in protecting them. now he gets to enjoy their company and his life without the threat of imminent destruction weighing over him 24/7.

halcyon joins the megaflora hive. by choice. they come to understand each other, and their endless cycle of violence comes to an end. no one needs to die. the plants, scavengers, and refugee citizens of the space colony ARK can all live together in harmony, because the megaflora and halcyon are greater than their original purposes, and they can forge their own paths. together. it's quite beautiful imo...

windthrow has to say goodbye to his father figure, ""eggman,"" but he has the scavengers and halcyon now. he'll be alright.

bermuda gives up his grudge against the surface dwellers... for the most part. he's no longer actively trying to kill them at every moment, at least. so, what's left for him? he isolates himself for a while after the events of the show, sad in spite of himself that the first person who managed to gain his trust since the ARK incident--prime sonic--is gone, but there's always unfinished business in the sonic universe, and the final hazard looms for the world of No Place, necessitating the teamwork of him and his... bitter?... enemy, gale.

gale suffers for awhileee due to losing the chaos emeralds. after being fused with them for his whole life, their sudden absence makes him feel weak and disoriented. to make matters worse, bermuda's siren song--which he had previously been immune to thanks to the emeralds' protection--suddenly compels him. but bermuda is just as shocked as gale when he appears before him one stormy night, and quickly deems it an unfair advantage. though, it was certainly tempting to drag him under... bermuda just lets gale go, much to gale's confusion. what can i say? maybe there's some of lancelot's honor in bermuda after all.

regardless, gale continues adventuring like he always has.

[persevereforahappyending]

No Man's Land |6|

Pairing: Sam Carpenter x Reader

Summary: Sam can’t help but be drawn to the cute stranger from her gym, even if everything about them makes them the perfect suspect, just when Ghostface has returned.

Warnings: Talks of Killing and Death

Word Count: 4k+

Main Masterlist | Series Masterlist

Part 1 | Part 2 | Part 3 | Part 4 | Part 5 | Part 6 | Part 7 | Part 8 | Part 9 | Part 10

Almost as soon as Sam stepped outside, she was bombarded with reporters. She was thankful that she didn’t see Tara around, that meant Kirby got her out of there without getting hounded by the media. Sam tried ignoring the cameras and microphones being shoved in her face as she pushed through the crowd. Everyone was screaming questions at her, asking if Ghostface was back, if she was a suspect, who this new Ghostface was, if the killings were connected to her, if this was all because of her father.

Sam kept her head down, focusing on the concrete and not on the dozens of people crowding her. She was about to crack when she felt a strong-arm wrap around her, the grip tightened as they pushed through the crowd. She turned to see you, staring straight ahead, your arm that wasn’t around her was stretched out, keeping the reporters at bay. Sam couldn’t help but let out a relieved breath when the two of you finally broke free of the crowd and she could see the road and a taxi already sitting there.

She nearly sprinted to the taxi and opened the door without bothering to look back at the reporters, she learned quickly it was best to ignore them. “Gale Weathers,” Sam heard a voice say. She didn’t bother holding in her groan as she gripped the door to the cab tighter. “Channel Four.”

“Don’t you have anything better to do?” Sam asked, whipping around and glaring at Gale.

Gale just laughed at her making Sam frown and only glare at her harder. “Do you think Ghostface is going to go after others since he failed to get you?” Gale held the mic out to Sam.

Sam scoffed, shaking her head, Gale sure had a lot of nerve. Gale knew better than anyone that Ghostface didn’t go attacking random people, not unless they were in the way, every victim was intentional. “No comment,” Sam said harshly.

“What about you, hero,” Gale redirected her attention to you. “Do you think saving Samantha Carpenter’s life has made you a target now?”

You just stared at Gale, it didn’t look like you had been phased at all by her questioning or by anything that was going on at the moment. “She said no comment,” you said. You stared Gale down then flicked a glare at her camera man before turning back to Sam.

Sam didn’t realize she was still staring at you in awe until you pushed the car door open a little more and gave her a nod. Sam looked down, trying to cover the blush she was sure was on her face before quickly jumping in the cab. You were right behind her, slamming the door shut and giving one final glare to Gale and the rest of the reporters.

You gave the taxi driver your address and then the two of you sat in silence. There were a million things going through Sam’s head, she had so many things she wanted to say to you, and she didn’t know where to start. She needed to apologize, she needed to thank you, she needed to explain herself, then on top of all that, she had all these questions that she had no right to ask. You had seemed completely comfortable with jumping into fight Ghostface, you didn’t hesitate in any of your movements, and every time you slashed the knife it was with the intent to kill, even after getting stabbed you still swiped the knife at Ghostface. On top of all that, you didn’t seem too affected by being stabbed, you had other scarring all over your body, and Kirby had called you sergeant. Sam wasn’t sure if you were in the military or law enforcement or what, but it was clear you had training.

“Sorry about the cab,” you said, breaking the silence and Sam’s thoughts about what to say to you. “My Jeep is still at my house.”

“It’s-It’s fine,” Sam brushed it off, looking at you. “And if anything, you shouldn’t be apologizing, when I should be thanking you.” You turned your head, finally meeting Sam’s eyes for the first time since leaving the station. “So, thank you.”

You gave a little shrug. “It was nothing, really.”

“But it was, odds are you’re now a target all because you saved me.” Sam ignored the glance from the cab driver in his rearview mirror.

“And I would do it again.” There was no hesitation in your voice. Sam couldn’t decide if this really was nothing for you, if you truly weren’t concerned about any of it, or if you didn’t know anything. “I don’t run from danger.”

“So, you just run to it?” Sam raised an eyebrow.

You silently chuckled and Sam couldn’t help but give a little smile, she had never seen you smile, let alone laugh, even if it was a small one. “It’s kind of my job.”

“Which is? Kirby called you sergeant.”

You nodded. “Army, special forces.”

Sam let out a whistle. “Well, seems Ghostface is the one who doesn’t know what they’re getting into.”

“That’s for sure,” you smirked.

Sam’s head whipped back up to you. “Do you know something?” she watched you closely, there was still no visible reaction.

Kirby might not have trusted you, but she had enough doubts about you being Ghostface that she didn’t try and hold you longer at the police station and she didn’t put up much of a fight when Sam said she’d go with you to your house. It didn’t stop the thoughts of if Bailey was right from piercing her mind. She wanted to trust you, you were strong and clearly had skills, you saved her life, plus she liked you, but all of that could mean you were Ghostface. Every thought in her mind suddenly stopped, she was being paranoid, if you were Ghostface that meant you set up the whole gym attack, which just seemed crazy. Though crazy and seemingly illogical plans seemed to be Ghostface’s thing, maybe she made a mistake getting into the cab with you and inviting you back to the apartment where the others would be, where her sister would be.

“Having regrets about tagging along?” you asked, snapping her out of her thoughts. Yes, she was, it was like you were reading her mind. She wasn’t sure if that should put her at ease or make her more on edge.

“Have you ever killed anyone?” she blurted out. She tried not to pay any mind to the cab driver whose eyebrows rose, and how his eyes kept going from staring at the road in front of them to the rearview mirror.

You glanced at her out of the side of your eye, though you didn’t seem offended by the question. “You’re not supposed to ask that.” Sam frowned; it was a rather rude thing to ask. If you were special forces, it was a fair assumption that you probably had, but normal people didn’t tend to like to talk about that type of stuff. She opened her mouth to apologize when you continued, “But yes.” Sam could see the way the cab driver’s eyes widened slightly, and his eyes instantly dropped from the rearview mirror to stare straight ahead again.

Usually learning someone has killed before would make a person more nervous but it oddly eased Sam’s worries. The fact that you didn’t try and lie or didn’t brush her off, that you answered and didn’t elaborate or try and defend anything was what eased Sam’s worries about you. If you were Ghostface or the mastermind behind these knew attacks she figured you’d try and justify your actions, saying it was part of the job, they were the enemy, or something, anything to get Sam to understand and let her guard down, but you didn’t do any of that.

“You never answered my first question,” Sam said. She couldn’t let her guard down yet, you knew something, and until she knew what that was you were a potential threat. “Do you know something?”

“We’re here,” is all you said.

Sam rolled her eyes; you were being incredibly difficult with your short responses. She didn’t understand how she could have a conversation with you and learn more about you in a cab ride than she had in the last few months at the gym, but you still somehow came off as even more mysterious. You were somehow a lot simpler and easier to understand when you were just the cute stranger from her gym who liked to box.

You paid the cab driver and opened the door, stepping aside so Sam could slide out and close it behind her. Sam looked around; it definitely wasn’t the nicest neighborhood, but it certainly didn’t seem like the worst. Sam followed you through the metal gate in front of a single level white house. It was tucked between two other houses, leaving hardly any room on the side of the house but you had a front yard with a small patch of grass that was fenced in.

You didn’t have much else though, the grass wasn’t dead, so it was clearly taken care of, but you didn’t have any plants or a garden of any kind. The only thing in the driveway was your Jeep, which she wouldn’t know for sure until she saw the inside of your house, but it seemed like the nicest thing you owned, it had large wheels clearly meant for off roading, if the dried mud splattered on the side was anything to go by and it was a four door, giving you ample room for stuff or people, but Sam had a feeling it was used more for stuff. Even your porch was bare, not even a chair to sit on. If Sam were just walking past the house the only thing that would indicate there was someone possibly living there was the fact that the grass wasn’t overgrown.

She followed you up the concrete steps and waited as you put the key in the door. Your house wasn’t run down by any means, it was taken care of, there was no paint peeling or siding falling off, it just seemed empty. You pushed open the door, giving it a good shove when it got stuck. Sam moved to follow you but froze when she heard a deep growl.

Her head snapped up and past you and deeper in the room was a snarling German shepherd. Sam clenched her fists that were shoved in her pockets, she didn’t dare move, the dog continued to growl and bare its teeth, making sure they were on full display.

“No,” you commanded. You held up your hand in a stop motion and the dog instantly snapped its mouth shut and sat down as if it hadn’t just been ready to attack.

You walked over to the dog and gave it a good pat, scratching behind its ears. It looked up at you and Sam could see the tail wagging, but the dog continued to sit. Sam also stayed where she was, she had no desire to step into your home and be mauled by your dog. As much as Sam wanted to back out and just stay outside, she was afraid to move, she was pretty sure she always heard you weren’t supposed to run from a dog because then they’d chase you.

You glanced back at Sam, and she could swear there was a slight smirk on your lips. “You can come in,” you said. Sam started to move her hands out of her pockets but when the dog’s head snapped to her, she froze again. You fully turned around but still kept a hand on the dog, never stopping running your finger through her coat and behind her ears. “She won’t hurt you.”

“I’m inclined to disagree,” Sam said, looking at the dog warily. She had never been afraid of dogs before, but she wasn’t stupid, if that dog charged at her it definitely wouldn’t be pretty.

You chuckled and crouched down to rub your hands up and down the dog’s neck and under her chin. She was a mostly black German shepherd with bits of brown on her legs, neck, and belly. “She’s harmless.” Sam raised an eyebrow, giving you a disbelieving look, there was no way you could convince her that dog was harmless. “Unless you attack me. So, just,” you nodded your head back and forth as you stood back up. “Don’t do that.”

Sam nodded unsurely but crossed the threshold, stepping into your home fully. She closed the door behind her without turning around, just because you said the dog was friendly didn’t mean she was taking her eyes off it. Sam opted to stay near the door, not wanting to do anything to trigger the dog. The dog also stayed put, it was just Sam and the dog, staying in place and staring each other down, though at least she wasn’t growling at Sam anymore.

You moved away from the dog and into the kitchen which was just past the living room. Sam heard you shuffling around and when you turned around, she saw you scooping some dog food into a bowl. After you set the food bowl down on the floor you came back up with another one, dumping the old water out before giving it a quick rinse and filling it with fresh water.

“How long should this whole thing take?” you asked. Sam finally took her eyes away from the dog to look up at you. “I just need to know if I need my buddy to take her,” you glanced at your dog. “Or he just needs to stop by and let her out.”

Sam shoved her hands in her pockets again and gave a little shrug. “Usually, these psycho’s only make this go over the course of a few days,” she answered. “But you might not want her to be here,” she nodded at the dog, who just tilted her head curiously at Sam. “Ghostface might come here looking for you.”

You chuckled as you put the fresh bowl of water down. “Then I feel sorry for him. Artemis there,” you pointed to the dog. “Is a military dog. She was trained for combat, to take down bad guys with guns, and people shooting all around her.”

“Artemis?” Sam couldn’t help but smile at the name. She looked down when she saw the dog’s ear twitch at hearing her name.

You shrugged as if it was an obvious choice. “Goddess of the hunt.”

“I didn’t think dogs usually came home with soldiers. Aren’t there rules for that?”

“Normally, but she isn’t active duty.” You walked back to the living room and leaned against the doorframe as you looked at your dog with nothing but love. “Got injured and had to retire.” Sam frowned at that, even though she’d never admit that she was slightly scared of the dog she couldn’t imagine what kind of injury she had to suffer to be retired. “That doesn’t mean she can’t still take someone down.”

Sam let out a hum. Based on the greeting she got she wasn’t surprised by that statement. “Let me change and we can go,” you said. Sam nodded and watched as you turned around, walking through the kitchen and into the bedroom in the back.

She bounced on her feet as she waited for you to return. She glanced around your place, the walls were bare, there was a couch, a coffee table, a TV, and a video game console plugged in. It really didn’t seem like someone actually lived in the house, she figured she should count herself lucky that it seemed like you had an actual bed and not just a mattress on the floor. Sam jumped back when she felt a wet nose brush against her. She looked down to see Artemis had moved and was now standing directly in front of her, sniffing her.

“Hello,” Sam said awkwardly. She slowly removed her hand from her pocket and hesitantly held it out for the dog to sniff. Artemis gave her hand a few sniffs before beginning to lick it. Sam couldn’t help but smile, when she wasn’t growling and showing her teeth Artemis was rather adorable.

“You still never answered my question,” Sam called out. “What do you know about Ghostface?” she knelt down to get on eye level with Artemis to pet her better.

You popped your head through the doorway of your bedroom just as you finished pulling your fresh shirt down. “I don’t know anything about Ghostface,” you said.

“Are you kidding me?” Sam looked up. There was no way you didn’t know who Ghostface was, it was too famous of a story, there were so many books and movies about the attacks. “You expect me to believe you don’t know the story?”

“Of course, I know the story,” you continued shuffling around your room. “I’ve never seen any of the movies, I’ve only seen a couple articles or whenever there’s a new attack, of course I’ve heard people talk about it.”

Sam sucked in a breath and nodded. She could believe that. Horror wasn’t really her thing, that was always Tara, she probably never would have seen the movies or known as much as she does if she hadn’t grown up in Woodsboro, and of course if Billy Loomis wasn’t her father. “So, do you know who I am?”

You crouched down at the nightstand beside your bed before looking back at Sam. “I’ve heard whispers,” you admitted. “But I wasn’t in the country last year so no offense, but I had other priorities when whatever was happening to you and your friends.”

“You didn’t look me up just from the rumors? Someone like you,” you raised an eyebrow as if daring her to finish that sentence. “You don’t want to know who’s coming into your gym?”

You let out a sigh and rested a hand on the edge of the nightstand. “Everyone is entitled to their privacy. I also know how the media can be spun; I prefer to form my own opinions.” Sam nodded, she never thought about what you might have seen or done and how the military and media might have spun things for the general public or covered things up.

You looked back to your nightstand, opening the drawer before doing something that looked like pressing buttons, though Sam couldn’t see inside the drawer from where she was. A second later you flipped open the door to whatever was in the drawer and reached down to grab something. When your hand came back it was holding a gun. Sam sucked in a breath but didn’t say anything or move from where she was still petting your dog. You glanced at her as you checked the gun before putting the magazine in and sticking the gun in a holster at your back. You fixed your shirt and if Sam hadn’t literally just seen you put the gun where you did, she wouldn’t have been able to tell you had one on you.

 Sam didn’t know you. You were a complete and total stranger to her; it didn’t matter if you had saved her life. There was no reason for Sam to trust you, to not say anything about the gun and still allow you to come back to the apartment with her. But she didn’t, she kept her mouth shut, she couldn’t explain it but a part of her felt like she could trust you, she wanted to trust you. She also knew all too well how handy a gun could be in these situations and if Ghostface didn’t know you had one then it would only be a plus.

“You asked what I know,” you said as you came back through the kitchen and leaned against the doorframe to the living room again. “I know whoever I fought in that gym is untrained. They had absolutely no experience handling a knife, if it wasn’t for the other one catching me off guard they didn’t stand a chance.”

Sam pulled herself back to her feet, smiling as she watched Artemis walk back over to you. “Most of them don’t have training,” Sam said, nodding along. “In every previous attack they’ve always been seemingly normal people, high school or college kids.”

“They were disorganized. The only reason the one caught up to you was because you tripped. The gym seemed like unknown territory to them.”

“I wasn’t supposed to be there,” Sam ran a hand through her hair. “It was an impulsive decision.”

“Meaning they’re watching you.”

Sam’s eyes snapped wide open. “I shouldn’t be surprised,” she crossed her arms over her chest. “After all, my last relationship was all a lie to try and set me up.” You raised an eyebrow at that. “Long story.”

“Well, it’s hard to make a plan of action without all the information.” You crossed the room until you were standing only a few feet from Sam, Artemis falling alongside you. “If I’m going with you then I need to know what I’m getting into.”

Sam’s grip tightened around her jacket, but she nodded, it was only fair. It wouldn’t be right to literally drag you into her mess and basically expect you to help protect the others and not tell you why any of this was happening. “It will be easier when we get to my apartment, with the others.”

You nodded and grabbed your sweatshirt before leading Sam out the door. “Also,” she said, turning back to face you. “Expect a lot of questions from my sister and her friends, we’re not exactly a trusting bunch.”

You only lightly chuckled at that. “Great, another interrogation,” you said but there was a small smile on your lips. You scratched the top of Artemis’s head and behind her ears before telling her to go eat. Sam could hear the sound of claws clacking against the wood floor as you closed the door. “Are we allowed to take my Jeep?” you asked.

Sam opened her mouth, about to deny it, but ended up nodding. She had already ridden in a cab alone with you and came to your house, also alone, getting in your car hardly seemed like that big of a deal. She also couldn’t argue that not having to pay for a cab back to the apartment would be nice, she didn’t think you were too far from her place but with everything going on she didn’t need the cab fee on top of it all.

Sam slipped into the passenger seat and looked at you as you pulled out onto the street. “Why are you doing this?” she asked. You were a stranger and were literally getting involved in something you had nothing to do with. Anyone else would have told Sam to piss off and would have gone back to their life, never to think about her again.

You eased on the break as you came to the stop sign at the end of your street. “Because you need help,” you said like it was simple. “I can’t just walk away when I know someone is actively trying to hurt you.”

“But I’m no one, I’m hardly worth all this.” You turned out onto the main road.

“I told you, it’s not in my nature to just turn my back on someone who needs help. And it’s clear the authorities can’t be relied on.” Sam scrunched her brow at that. “I don’t know about agent Reed, but I don’t trust Bailey.” You spared her a quick glance. Sam had never questioned Bailey until this new Ghostface, specifically his clear distrust of you. “I might not know you very well, but no one deserves all this,” you gestured with one hand. “You don’t deserve to be hunted down by some psycho.”

“Thank you,” Sam whispered. She really didn’t know what else to say. She knew she was the one to ask you to join them, but you didn’t owe them anything. You were going above and beyond for some random girl at your gym. Sam couldn’t help the small smile that appeared on her face as she looked at you, your eyes glued to the road. Maybe you were one of the good ones after all, maybe Sam wasn’t completely cursed to only attract darkness.

Taglist: @thatshyboy1998 @artrizzler19 @btay3115 @acutenobody @godamnityess

[galeorderbride]

Hiii!!

I discovered your account recently, and I'm a fan! This strengthens my love for Gale even more! I have a request, is it possible to use the following prompts :

3)Touching foreheads

7) Kissing scars

11)Sharing secrets

41)Washing each other hairs

52)Crying into their shoulder

60) sitting in their lap

i will probably ask for others prompt later ahah!

thanks you so much 🖤

Thank you for the request!! I’m stoked to know I’ve helped strengthen your love for everyone’s favourite rizzard lol. And send as many prompts as you like!

Your prompt awaits:

Rated: M (Gale and Tav sharing a bath, non descriptive nudity).

Gale x F!tav

Words: 1652

...

Wash my Troubles Away

Baths were always the way Tav chose to unwind after a stressful day. Before the nautiloid, and after, although she’d been seriously lacking in access. In all honesty, she was surprised it took this long for her to break down. Months on the road, toiling through endless swaths of blood, shit and tears with the onus on them to solve everyone’s problems. At first, Tav enjoyed helping, seeing new friends suffer a little bit less in such a difficult society. Once they reached Rivington, however, her patience ran drier than a dead fountain. 

Thankfully, they found the Elfsong, where a private bathroom awaited. As soon as the fee was paid, Tav thought about taking a bath—craved it. A space to calm her muscles and cry out her troubles without drawing attention. 

Hot water flowed against her naked back, bubbling with lavender oil and sudsy soap, emanating the scent of vanilla and oat. Tav tucked her legs to her chest, curling into a ball of frustration and embarrassment as she couldn’t stop crying. Tav needed more resilience than this. Facing the end of the world required stalwart bravery, and she was having a meltdown over finding gold for a bank manager. How in the hells was she supposed to take down a giant brain? 

Meanwhile, everyone else had no problem being selfish. A toy maker set explosives in his own products, totally willing to kill children to save his own skin. Idiots tying up Volo just because he was talking about the things they wanted to ignore. Ironhand gnomes masking abusive bigotry with a shining cause. Tav was tired of everyone’s bullshit, making excuses for themselves, taking zero responsibility when she had no other option but to face problems head on. 

Her self pity was interrupted by a knock at the bathroom door. The sound of a lilted, erudite voice coming through the wood: 

“Mind if I come in, love?” 

Gale appeared in the doorway after Tav agreed he could enter. Holding fresh towels and a wicker basket of different bath products, looking brand new as if he’d just returned from an apothecary. Tav splashed water in her face to mask the puffiness of her eyes, as if her detail oriented wizard would ever let a thing like that get past him. 

“You seem like you could use some company. And so far, I’ve been very skilled and…calming you down, so to speak. I fetched some products from Bonecloak’s, all your favourite scents. Jasmine, pomegranate, aloe vera. If you’d prefer to be alone, know you won’t offend me. I just wanted to give you these so you know someone is thinking about you,” he said. 

Tav turned her head, grinning as best she could, easier because of his presence. Since their romance had begun, he was the only one virtually incapable of annoying her. He always knew what to say, always understood the right words or actions to keep her grounded. No one had been such a positive force in her life, and every morning, no matter how terrible, she thanked the stars for finding that unstable portal. 

“I’m not enviable company at the moment, but yours, would surely heal my weary heart,” Tav replied. 

Gale smiled, “No matter how you’re feeling, there is no one in the realms I’d rather spend my time with.” 

Times like this were when Tav didn’t believe she deserved his sweetness. Doting on her out of an adoration she couldn’t figure out. He placed the bottles on a tiny stool beside the tub, undressing so he could join her in a warm, sudsy water, snapping his fingers with a little magic to heat it back to ideal temperature. He made use of the large, circular space as he sunk in behind her, enveloping her in a comforting embrace as she rested her back onto his chest. Little hairs tickled her skin, causing her to chuckle for the first time all day. 

Careful movements of his fingertips massaging her scalp sent shivers down Tav’s spine. Scents of pomegranate and jasmine soothed her sinuses, letting the hot water pour down her head, through strands of clean hair. Tension from her muscles seemed to dissolve with each considerate touch, Gale’s hands created to caress her skin. When he finished, he wrapped his arms around her, rocking her back and forth as they both watched the window ahead. A clear night gifted them glimmering stars, a cool breeze whistling out of a crack in the insulation. Tav leaned back, resting her head in the crux of Gale’s shoulder as she closed her eyes. A few, stray tears fell from her eyes, overwhelmed by the sudden comfort of her magical lover lifting her through the ache of evening. 

Gale didn’t press her for reasons, didn’t rush to solve the problem when he noticed her tears. He just held her, waited in solidarity until she was ready, happy to let her sink into his life force to refresh her own. 

“I’m sorry,” she finally said with a tearful chuckle, “You must think I’m ridiculous. Crying for no reason like this.” 

“Well, my love, your mind may be telling you that there is no reason, but that doesn’t mean it’s true. With all our travels, all the weight on your shoulders, you have every reason to cry. You’re more resilient than you think, I’d have crumbled long ago,” he said. 

Tav looked up at him, in utter admiration for his thoughtfulness, his beauty, everything. If she could, she’d sing his praises for a thousand years, to make up for all the times Mystra never did. Or anyone else who didn’t care to see the magnificence of him. 

Her fingers traced up his collarbone, around the mark the orb left that paved a path to his wonderful neck. A forced tattoo sunk into the surface of his skin, binding him to his well intentioned folly. Their foreheads touched as Gale lowered his head, wishing desperately that he could hold every

 part of her at the same time. Mage hands and mirror images weren’t enough, it had to be him. 

“Can I tell you something I’ve never told anyone before?” He asked, words hanging on between their breaths, lips hovering over each other but never quite meeting. 

“Hmm, you’ve already told me about Mystra. And that you haven't spoken to anyone in over a year until me. Oh, and that you get excited when you see me bloody after a fight. What else could there possibly be?” She asked, flirtatiously smiling at him with her eyelids batting just the way he liked. The smirk he made when he saw it was irresistible. 

Gale chuckled, “This one is far less serious, but might be what you need to hear in this moment.” 

They adjusted slightly, Gale sitting up as he pulled his arm out of the water. Just above his elbow was a superficial scar, raised tissue blending in with the rest of his skin. An uneven line travelling up his arm, about three inches long. Wherever he got it from, it had to be years ago. 

“People don’t notice this scar much anymore, not with the giant black circle on my chest. But people used to. I’d tell them it was from a kitchen knife,” he said, “But…really I accidentally set fire to my neighbour’s rose bushes when I was a child. I was trying to conjure, and the fire got away from me. Singed my arm in the process.” 

Tav turned, scooching further onto his lap as she examined his arm. She couldn’t help but laugh, “That’s your secret? Ruining a bush?” 

“Not just any bush. A rose bush. One of the most beautiful I’d ever seen. I’d pass by those roses every day, stare at them for a minute or two. Just to see something be so effortlessly perfect in its imperfection. They simply grew that way, and then I destroyed them. All I could do was cry, sob over how I tarnished something so innocent and pretty for my own sake. I don’t talk about it because…well, it’s silly, but it’s the worst thing I’ve ever felt. It’s stayed with me my entire life, and the burn scar only serves as a beacon for it,” he explained. 

“Even worse than what happened with Mystra?” She asked, grazing her fingertips across the uneven line of the scar. Eyes stuck to the mark as if it was the last thing she’d ever see. 

Gale hesitated, taking a heart wrenching pause. Tav noticed his eyes staring ahead, fixated on the window. A heavy, unsaid energy hung over him.  

“It was the catalyst. For everything. Had I not set fire to that bush, Elminster never would’ve found me. And then I’d never have attracted Mystra’s attention. A boring existence…but maybe a better one,” he said, voice trailing along the waves of his melancholic thoughts. 

Instead of responding, giving him a treatise on how he didn’t need to feel guilty anymore and burning a flower bush wasn’t a definer of his total character, she pressed her lips against the burn scar. Counting her kisses for every year of remorse he felt since setting that fire ball. Ever since their first night together, he slowly began to shed that overconfident veneer, more comfortable to show her the parts of him that hurt, the deep cuts that both of them wished they could bury. 

“Seems we both have a guilt problem,” Tav said. “Come here.” 

Tav moved to straddle his lap, taking the ceramic bowl and filling it with the warm, soapy water. Gale rested on her shoulder, as if on impulse, while she poured the liquid down the long strands of chestnut hair. Running her shampooed hands across his scalp, satisfied every time she heard his happy moans against the scratch of her nails. After rinsing, she kissed the top of his head. 

“Thank you for telling me a secret,” she said, “I’ll tell you one of mine tomorrow.”

[tobbotobbs]

Twinkle Little Star

Astarion Ancunin x Masc/Male presenting Tav/Reader (Reader referred to as Tav) 

TW: sad, angst, no happy ending, mcd, slight gore ig, sad astarion, he needs a hug

It was supposed to be an easy quest. Get into the brothel, find one of his siblings, take them gently or with force and then talk to them about Cazador and what he was up to. He was suppposed to get informations and then let his brother or sister go, hopefully with having convinced them into helping him with their plan to destroy the abomination of a man that was once their only hope and tortured them their entire life. After that they should have gone to the Szarr palace and easily killed him with maybe a few dead servants and a little blood over their clothes. This? No, this was not how it was supposed to go. Yes he talked to Leon, his brother, and found out that Cazador was not letting anyone into the ballroom. He also found out that he now seemed to be keeping guard dogs, Gnolls and Hobgoblins. Cazador never had much approval left for anything close to dogs. So why now? He wanted everyone to be locked out of his ritual of course, but how big the ritual was really going to be, Astarion would have never imagined. They underestimated the Vampire Lord and that was where they all failed. The second Astarion, Tav, Karlach and Gale stood at the end of the stairs in that creepy looking dungeon, Cazador had control over the situation thanks to the Spawn. Astarion was leaped from his feet by a powerful magic and taken to the top of that pyramid looking cyrcle his other siblings formed, who were also flowing in the air thanks to that blood red powerful magic that came from Cazador. He was the last piece that was missing for Cazador to fullfill his ritual, his deal with Mephistopheles and he went right into the trap, for the Vampire to finish his work to get even more powerful by killing 7000 Vampire Spawns and his 7 chosen Spawns, the ones wearing that lovely 'poem' on their back. To think he wanted to take over the ritual, once he had killed Cazador, was making him feel like he could throw up all the wine and the blood from Tav he drank today. Tav. Oh, his handsome, pretty and shy Tav. Always thinking too much, worrying- caring too much. Espacially about Astarion. He didn’t deserve any of this to happen to him and yet there he stood, a scared scream of Astarions name left his lips before he was dashing forwards to run over to him, to help him, to save his world. But he couldn’t do such thing. Karlach took a hold of his waist, holding his lover back so he wouldn’t do something stupid now. The Tiefling looked just as hurt by what just happened, but she tried to not let it get to her head just as Gale did, too. Who was now coming forward to stand next to them and faced Cazador. They all stood there, looking at the monsters face. It was ugly and disgustingly smiling at them. He laughed at them. Laughed at Tav for really falling for Astarions pathetic and weak character. Falling for the act and the seduction, just so Astarion would have protection and a save place to stay. For thinking they could stop him. For what he was about to do. 

If it weren’t for Tav’s ability to use misty step freely as he pleased, everything might have turned out differently. He teleported in the blink of an eye, right next to Cazador and his dagger already lifted to strike and cut through the Vampires throat. If he only had seen it coming. The hand that held 5 sword like sharp claws instead of soft fingertips. He tore right through Tavs chest. Thanks to the power that comes with being a Vampire Lord, it looked as if he had just punched through water, without any resistence. A weird and awful eery wet and cracking sound was flying through the silent dungeon. If Astarion and the others wouldn’t have had their eyes on Tav, it could have been also mistaken with the sound of wet fresh salary being crunched into pieces or like an apple, that was ripped apart by some Barbarian just like Karlach was. The time stood still as Cazador proudfully and with no shame held their groups leader with his bare hand and kept him from falling down to the floor. It must be hurting so much, Karlach thought as she watched Tav struggle to breath and keep the pained sounds at bay. He does not deserve this, was what Gale wanted to say out loud. Not him, anyone but him please. That is what was going through Astarions mind as he watched the love of his life slowly die at the hands of the monster he thought once saved him. What a fool he was. The Vampire Spawn was trying to move, tryied to do something just anything to get to his dear Darling. But he couldn’t. He was still restricted by the magic coming from Cazador, who was now laughing at Tav’s pathetic and stupid attempt to kill him. Tav was, even in his last minutes, looking with pure hatred and disgust at Cazador Szarr, who now lifted his body from the floor which caused him to let out a gut wrenching scream. He could feel every part in him moving and straining against the hand in his chest, could feel the sharp claws that punctured through his lungs and left him breathing in his own blood. Karlach was the first to move. She immediatly summoned Scratch and send their dog companion Astarions way to help free him from his restrictions while she herself came at Cazador with her battleaxe. Gale was fast to followe her lead and started casting spells at the guard dogs that were in their way, killing many at once with his large area and his favourite necromancy spells. Like that they came easily through to Cazador, who looked a little spooked now. The Vampire Lord already had dropped Tav a few feet away from him, no longer interested in his dying form. Now ready to have an actual fight and a little fun killing some people, the Vampire gripped his magical staff and aslo started throwing spells at Gale, to take the wizard out first. He wasn’t dumb, after all wizards are hard to kill with their ability to attack from distance and counter spell other spells thrown at them or magically protect themself and others. The barbarian, Cazador was smiling to himself, he would deal with later. He had the feeling she and his little pet had a deeper connection so it would be fun hurting her in front of Astarion right before the ritual to torture him one last time, even if their connection wasn’t as deep as the one between his chosen Spawn and that pathetic boy trying to kill him with a mere little dagger. Oh how he wished he could’ve saved that ones death for later. To terrorize his Spawn really good one last time. 

That was not the important thing going on right now though, no. It was the fight that Cazador began to loose. Gale was a talented wizard, perhaps the most talented Astarion has ever met and he was surely not backing down or getting tired from this fight. Gale stood his ground and counter spelled every curse and element the Vampire Lord sent his and Karlachs way, meanwhile he also threw various powerful magic at their opponent. His spells hit and Cazador started to get tired and get more risky with his steps and his focus on both the barbarian and the wizard. He did not notice nor did he looked when Karlach suddenly vanished from his peripheral vision and appeared just a few seconds later behind him with her battleaxe raised high above her head and her mouth leaving a loud battlecry that was full of rage, sorrow, pain and grief. Karlach brought down the heavy axe and hit the Vampire right on the head which split open into two parts so easily, it was rather eery. Her eyes were full of tears of rage and sadness. Her breathing was hard and shallow and without a single care about anything she swung her weapon again and hit the now dead Vampire Lord under her again and again and again. Until she felt soft smaller hands frap around her wrist and tugged her into a warm welcoming embrace full of empathy. Gale was crying himself, he had just lost his best friend and they hadn’t even had time to really mourn. Just head straight into a fight to not die themself. While Gale and Karlach held eachother close they heard the quiet taps of paws on the cold stone floor, getting closer to them but then stopping a few feet away. A high pitched whine was all they heard and they knew it was Scratch who has found Tav’s dead, lifeless body on the floor laying in his own still warm blood with his eyes looking empty and into the nothingness. Scratch sat next to Tav and tried to wake him up with nudging his arm with his wet nose, but Tav didn’t move at all. Another whine left Scratches mouth. Karlach and Gale looked at eachother before they took another look at Tav and then at their other friend.  

Astarion was feeling like he was drowning, even though he didn’t even need to breath as Vampire Spawn. But it still felt like he was underwater, being dragged under the surface by some invisible monster. He knew he could move and all, Scratch had helped him after all and Cazador was dead now too, so the magic was gone and he could move and wasn’t dragged underwater by any monster. His eyes felt weirdly wet and his cheeks too, he was crying. Astarion had not cried in so long. He never found himself caring, loving someone so much in the last 200 years. He never cried but now here he was, his legs carrying him to his long passed lover and breaking down next to Tav. Hid eyes never stopped the salty tears and he could care less when he started whimpering and moaning in complete misery and pain. His hands shook as he tried to hold Tav’s hand in his and give it a soft, gentle kiss like he does so often when they spent the night together in his tennt, reading books or just talking. It felt unreal to him, seeing the strongest person he knew lie there, cold and without any life in them. His other hand creeped up Tav’s face to gently cup his cheek and caress it with his fingers. He cried and mumbled how it wasn’t fair this had happened. Whispered little nothings into the silence of the dungeon about how he was going to spent his eternity with Tav somehow. It was devestating to watch, even more so to hear and listen to Astarion talk to Tav as if he was still alive and could answer him.  

And the worst part was the little star necklace he had given Tav that he now held in his trembling hands. A little star pendant was on the silvery chain. It should remind Tav of him and make him feel like a part of Astarion is always with him. It was a joke first, after Tav found out his anme meant little star and hestarted nicknaming him Star instead of Astarion. It turned into something so much more and meaningful to both of them amd here they were. The twinkle of his star was gone. 

[azukiel]

Nightfall Heir Chapter 9

🔞 MDNI 🔞 NSFW

Warnings (as a whole): Explicit sexual content, Graphic descriptions of violence, PTSD, Angst, Blood kink, Kidnapping, Pregnancy and Childbirth

Chapter 1 | Chapter 2 | Chapter 3 | Chapter 4 | Chapter 5 | Chapter 6 | Chapter 7 | Chapter 8 | Chapter 9 | Chapter 10 | Chapter 11

⭐Here is the story on Archive of Our Own ⭐

Summary: Two years have passed since the events surrounding the destruction of the Absolute. Baldur's Gate is slowly rebuilding itself from the rubble, and you and your companions have established yourselves within the city to help in its restoration.

You and your vampiric lover, Astarion, had been nigh inseparable since coming back together. Yet a certain turn of events saw to your kidnapping and then... to your unexpected pregnancy.

🔥Comments and reblogs are much appreciated! 🔥

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It was almost dawn by the time Astarion and the others returned to the house. Of which day, though, you were not to know. You had been still slipping in and out of consciousness. Halsin put you into a deeper, more restful slumber so that your dreams would not torment you and you could heal better.

Astarion and the others were visibly exhausted as they stumbled in through the front door, their armour dripping with sweat and copious amounts of sanguine fluids. The others in the group, however, looked paler than the vampiric-elf himself.

“What happened? Are you all ok?” Shadowheart’s voice was full of worry.

Gale nodded, his hands were still trembling. “Our bodies are unscathed, mostly. But... it is going to take a while longer to erase what happened from our minds.”

Shadowheart and Halsin looked at them, confused. Astarion’s gaze was austere and brooding.

“Carnage. Pure, bloody fucking carnage!” Karlach piped up then, her voice rather one of excitement, as she was still giddy from the event.

“Honestly, Astarion,” Lae’zel continued, a somewhat proud look on her face, “I knew all had reason to fear you, but this night truly emphasized that fact.”

“They had it coming.” Was all Astarion replied as he looked over at you, his eyes drooping with a deep anguish.

“How is she?” His voice came out small, almost meek.

Halsin looked sympathetically back at him. He put his hand on his younger counterpart’s shoulder and squeezed gently, trying to calm his nerves. “As well as could be expected. She should recover.”

Astarion’s breath escaped him, and tears began to cascade down his pale features, streaking rivulets through the caked blood and grime on his face. The others looked at each other knowingly before looking back at Astarion, their eyes full of sympathy and understanding.

“We will go to barracks and clean up there.” Wyll spoke once more. “We will return later, after we’ve all had some rest and recuperation.”

Halsin nodded in agreement to Wyll’s suggestion, and as they all filed back out the door, they either patted Astarion on the back or shoulder in reassurance, showing their understanding.

“We already bathed here. I hope you do not mind.” Shadowheart spoke up after a few moments when Wyll, Karlach, Gale, and Lae’zel had left.

“No..no, of course not.” Astarion smiled faintly, attempting some form of decorum. Yet, he could not help but sob within his attempts to remain composed.

“It is alright to weep, my friend.” Halsin patted him on the shoulder again. “It’s healthier to let it out than to keep it all pent up inside.”

“I know...” Astarion seemed more frustrated by himself than anything. “We could not find her...” His teeth gritted as flashes of what had occurred that night flooded his mind.

“Who, Astarion?”

“Faceless.” His tone was bitter, angered and frustrated as he balled his hands at his sides. “She escaped... that fucking murderous bitch escaped... left the remnants of her coven to meet my blades. And meet my blades, they did. I gorged on their blood and left their innards sprawled along the walls and their limbs strewn along the floors. Faceless will have nothing but the entrails of her comrades to return to. And when she returns, I will hunt her. I will hunt her to the ends of Faerûn and rip her fucking throat out.”

With each spoken word, his anger only intensified. Shadowheart put her hand upon his arm to calm his ever-growing ire. The tears only cascaded faster down his cheeks then, creating muddy paths from their mingling with the crimson life force of the fallen.

“She will pay, my friend,” she tried to soothe him, yet even her voice shook with rage. “But now you must clean yourself up and get some rest. I am sure Tav will recover quicker with you close to her.”

Astarion wiped his wet face roughly, not bothering to address his utter shame at his outbursts. In a way, he found it almost relieving that his companions saw his weaknesses and felt them as he did. After all, they had been through countless trials together. He knew their allegiance would never wane. That thought alone caused his sobs to abate and gave way to some semblance of peace.

“Indeed,” Halsin concurred. “Rest yourself for now. Shadowheart and I shall rest soon after.”

Astarion nodded. “The guest rooms are at your disposal. And thank you. Thank you both for everything you have done for her. I don’t know how to repay you.”

“Repayment is not needed. It’s what friends are for.” Halsin responded with a kind smile.

“Exactly.” Shadowheart reiterated. “You both would not hesitate to do the same for any of us.”

Astarion flushed through the blood and grime that streaked his porcelain features. “Indeed, we would. Now please, go rest. I will wash up and take vigil over her.”

Halsin nodded in agreement as he stifled a yawn. Looking out the doors of your balcony, he could see the hint of sun coming over the horizon.

“Lathander is bringing upon a new day, Astarion. Did you happen to find her ring?”

Astarion’s tired eyes shot open in remembrance. Shoving his hand in under his leather Drow armour, he bought out the ring... still attached to a rather pointed finger. Halsin and Shadowheart’s mouths dropped agape.

Astarion pulled the ring off the finger and stared at the finger with disgust.

“I was able to cut it off the bitch’s hand before she escaped,” he explained. Taking a deep waft of the finger’s scent, he promptly threw it out the open door with such force it flew far enough to fall into the river, which flowed at the far end of the garden.

“Now I will remember the cunt’s scent. I will hunt her down and destroy her if it is the last thing I do.” His face once more filled with rage and resolve, causing Halsin to look at Shadowheart with a concerned expression. They knew Astarion would keep to his word. He was resolute and stubborn like that. Alas, Astarion now, of all times, needed to be re-centered, especially now that you, his beloved, were with child.

“Astarion,” Halsin began calmly, “go and clean yourself up. When you’re done, you and I need to have a talk.”

Astarion’s expression turned to one of confusion then, but he did not question the Archdruid’s command, and went to do what he was told.

When he returned after a while, Shadowheart was now downstairs in one of the guestrooms asleep, and Halsin was sitting on the chair he had brought into the main bedroom, watching you as you slept. Upon entering the room, Halsin looked up at him with a tired but warm smile.

“Take a seat,” he motioned to the side of the bed. Astarion did so, looking down at you for a moment before he refocussed his attention on the much bigger elf.

Halsin leaned forward and gently placed the palm of his hand on your stomach, and this time, Astarion noted his action.

He squinted slightly as he spoke, “What... what are you doing?” Astarion asked, confused.

Halsin smiled broadly this time, making Astarion suddenly grow uneasy at his obvious joy.

“My hand is not merely upon her stomach...” the druid began, smiling calmly.

Astarion blinked hard, still very befuddled. “Speak plainly, Halsin,” he demanded, a slight frown knotting his brow.

Halsin tilted his head for a moment before answering. “There is something you need to know about Tav, something she was not aware of, or too shocked and afraid to tell you.”

Astarion’s mind had churned rapidly, all of Halsin’s words spinning into a chaotic clutter in his head.

“Is she dying, Halsin?! Is that what you are telling me?”

Halsin could not help but chuckle softly at Astarion’s conclusion.

“No, my dear friend,” he reassured. “She is quite the contrary.”

Astarion blinked hard again. “What, Halsin?! What in the Nine Hells is it?”

“She is with child.”

Astarion just stared at Halsin in pure and utter disbelief, and Halsin kept a level and sympathetic gaze with him as the news settled upon Astarion’s fraying senses.

“How is that... that possible? I’m technically... dead!”

“Undead.” Halsin corrected with a grin. “But undead can procreate when coupled with life.”

“Wh... what?” Astarion stuttered, his eyes wide and still clouded with confusion.

“Dhampir.” Halsin stated.

Astarion’s lip drooped as he continued to look blankly, the words not yet settling in his tired mind.

Halsin cupped Astarion’s shaking hand with his large palm and guided his hand to the very tiny bump of your abdomen, leaving Astarion’s cold fingers resting gently there.

“Close your eyes, my friend. Let me guide you.”

Astarion complied with Halsin’s request. As instructed, his eyelids fluttered closed.

“Focus all of your senses on her. Feel every sensation within reach. Close yours around your little babe here inside; let nothing else distract from their presence.”

It was barely perceptible, but to a vampire’s keen wits and the help of Halsin’s magic, the ever-so-faint essence of a new soul graced Astarion’s senses. His eyes shot open, his mouth fell slightly agape. How had he not sensed this before? Had he been so wrapped up with his carnal pleasures with you for him to have noticed? Then why had he not noticed during normal times? Surely he had not been that distracted?

“Now the real work begins, my friend.” Halsin grinned.

Astarion snapped back to reality, the daze within him beginning to lift. His face still looked stunned, like an anvil had slammed into his forehead. Were those tears he could feel stinging the corner of his eyes?

“What exactly are you insinuating?” Astarion queried hesitantly, afraid of what Halsin may reply, feeling nervous about whatever news the Archdruid was about to relay to him. Astarion knew almost nothing of children, childbirth, or even child-rearing. Whatever little he had learnt was from all your previous interactions with them back in camp and at the new orphanage Halsin had established in what were the old Shadowlands - now Lightlands - as Halsin had nicknamed it. But babies? No. Absolutely nothing. Though contemplating, or perhaps lamenting at the inability to have children with you had crossed his mind on more than one occasion.

“Besides hunting down and destroying that woman that haunts us all... you will have to be the spearhead that guides and supports Tavrin through the emotional and bodily changes she will experience with her pregnancy and then the pains of childbirth, for her sake, and the safety of the babe’s.”

Halsin’s words came down like a sledgehammer. Astarion’s jaw clenched immediately. He suddenly found himself dumbfounded, his speech almost robbed by the notion of becoming a parent. Him, a parent?

He looked between your sleeping form and Halsin, who was now eyeing him inquisitively.

“Is...is this real? There’s absolutely no mistake?”

Halsin sighed and his jaw tensed. “Of course, this is no mistake, Astarion. You are going to be a father.”

“Me?” Astarion’s voice quivered coarsely.

Halsin chuckled. “Of course, you. Who else?”

Astarion then eyed the Archdruid, causing the bear of an elf to blush and clear his throat.

“My friend, the three of us have not continued our secret tryst in quite some time. Of course you are the father. Tav would have it no other way.”

“I...am going to be a father...” The words rolled out of Astarion’s lips as easily as the salt of his tears that now rolled down his cheeks. He broke into a bright and joyful smile as the tears kept flowing. Leaning over, Astarion embraced Halsin tightly, making the larger man blush furiously. But he did not repel from the embrace, but rather relished in it. He cared deeply for the both of you, and perhaps missed the naughty nights the three of you spent with each other on the odd occasion. Halsin hoped, truly, that you would find yourselves living in peace with this child and that Faceless would no longer hound you and continue to threaten the happiness you two had built together. But the threat she still posed lingered darkly in all your minds.

Both pulling away gently, Astarion wiped his dampened eyes with his sleeve. “I’m still having a hard time believing it. I mean, I do now but... everything I had learnt about vampirism and my kind, which was very little, came from Cazador. He ensured the shroud was kept pulled well over our eyes. Being undead and all, I thought it would be impossible for us to conceive children. I now stand corrected.”

Halsin nodded, relieved that he was gradually opening up about it.

“There is one thing I know, though.” Halsin began. “Only true vampires are able to conceive with other humanoid creatures, and now that Cazador is out of the picture, well, technically, you are now a true vampire.”

Astarion pondered on Halsin’s words for a moment. “You are right...”

“Have you and Tavrin discussed offspring at all before, by any chance?” Halsin smiled softly. “Even briefly?”

“No...” Astarion paused for a moment, gazing tenderly at the smooth features of your bruised and battered face, “But honestly... it has crossed my mind on more than one occasion.”

“This can only mean one thing,” Halsin deduced as he shifted to take hold of Astarion’s chin, forcing him to avert his loving gaze away from your body to meet his. “The gods have spoken.” Halsin let go of him, a mischievous grin slipping across his broad chin.

Astarion could not help but chuckle. “I did not take you for being the teasing type, Halsin.”

“I guess the children’s humour has rubbed off on me,” he laughed as he referred to the many children that were keeping Thaniel and Oliver company back at the orphanage. “And soon there will be the pitter-patter of a little Astarion and Tavrin running around! Gods be willing, perhaps many pitter-patters of tiny feet to fill your new home!”

Astarion sat back and blinked. “Multiple offspring?”

“If you both remain busy.” Halsin teased further.

Astarion gulped. “Ah.. well, then I hope I shall live to see these ‘pitter-pattering of feet’, as you put it.”

Halsin laughed and clapped Astarion across the back jovially. “Don’t be so forlorn, my friend. All will be well with us watching over each other.”

“I know. It’s just that... I’m still reeling from all that has happened and now with this bombshell... I don’t know what to think. But I have to thank you again, Halsin, for everything. I have to thank all of you, to be honest, but you especially. I never would have thought I would have bonded with a bear of a druid so well.” He laughed at the motion, causing Halsin himself to chuckle.

“And me being a disciple of the Oak-father, never would have thought I would have coupled with an undead and a drow from the Underdark, for that matter, but here we are!”

Astarion went silent and looked thoughtfully towards his love. “Speaking of couplings...” Astarion trailed off. “Would you endure one more favour for me?”

Halsin blinked. “Oh?” He looked at Astarion curiously, his own heart beginning to pound in his chest. “A-another threesome?”

Astarion chuckled cheekily, shaking his head in amusement. “Well, I would not say no to that, but we must wait to see what our beloved Tav has to say.” His eyes narrowed on Halsin, and his grin turned salacious. “Though I am sure she would not abhor the thought. The nights the three of us have spent fucking till the morning birds sang sure were deliciously fun.”

Halsin felt his cheeks heat at the memories. They had been, indeed.

“But that is a favour for perhaps another time,” Astarion continued, his tone becoming more serious once again.

“All this cultist blood I gorged on has made me feel somewhat sick to the stomach. My palette needs cleansing and well,” he looked back down at you. “With Tav in such a state, obviously I cannot feed from her...”

“You want to feed from me?” Halsin raised a thick eyebrow.

“Only for a few moments. Just enough to get this foul blood flushed through my system and to curb the worst of my hunger. And well, with our history of the three of us... I thought perhaps you might be willing to share just a little of your healing with me?”

Halsin’s smile then took Astarion aback. He was not expecting the Archdruid to actually agree.

“As a druid, it is my duty to regenerate life. If I can give you life anew, then I will do so by whatever means necessary, my friend.”

“I never would have imagined the Oak-father to endorse such decadence between us...” Astarion started, unable to hide his amusement, yet his voice turned grave. “That is, if he actually does, of course. Not like I care, but you…”

Halsin drew Astarion in close then, much to the vampiric-elf’s shock. He pulled away just far enough to stare Astarion in his faint crimson eyes.

“Life is life, Astarion,” he murmured, a low growl entering his voice. “To celebrate giving life in whatever form one might encounter should be reason enough to bring a smile to anyone’s lips.”

The fire in Halsin’s voice stirred both fear and lust in Astarion. Yes, the three of you had some... heated interactions in the past, but this time... something felt different. Was it perhaps the emotions stirred from discovering about the unborn child, or was it merely because Halsin and his power were both desirable and dangerous and incredibly alluring, or a bit of everything, really? Either way, his cock was starting to feel tight.

Halsin placed his finger firmly beneath Astarion’s chin. “Tavrin is fast asleep and well,” his finger left his chin then and traced a trail along your elegant jaw.

His voice dropped to a seductive whisper. “As the Oak-father made me a protector and a healer of the woodlands, it would be an absolute sin not to bless your carnal thirst with my own essence of life.”

Astarion squirmed in his spot and gripped his thighs tightly. That sentence alone was enough to make him grow fully hard beneath his leather trousers. Halsin, knowingly, grinned.

“That will have to wait until Tav gives us all permission, if she has the will or needs to do so,” he added as he looked at Astarion’s growing arousal.

Halsin looked away then, pushing down his own growing lust that he felt towards you both. He could not help but reminisce on the beauty of you taking hold of him, and the desire to embrace you again as he had the past times the three of you were in bed together. He could not help but shiver at the desire to have Astarion covet him with affections once more. The three of you in a sweaty, tangled mess, riding each other into oblivion, moaning and crying your praises of each other. How his mind wanted him to believe it could happen then, but with your safety a constant priority, and you currently teetering between the Abyss and the divine, Halsin would not break his promise to the Woodland Whisperer to look after you and the child within your womb first.

Astarion nodded, and a sudden guilt gripped him. “I won’t feed from you without her permission, despite my own predicament right now.” He looked down at his hardened member as it pressed against its trappings, and his brow furrowed. “I do not want to betray her. I would never...”

“I understand your sentiments,” Halsin reassured gently.

“Though I must remind you rather amusingly that it was her who initiated our little... understanding.”

Astarion could not help but chuckle then. He could remember it well. “Oh trust me, I know. And I’ll have you know, that of all of you that had tried to woo her and get into her panties at one point or another, which is all of you to be honest, you are the only one I was willing to accept aside from myself, of course.”

Halsin laughed jovially. “And I am honoured, my friend.” He glanced down again at Astarion’s tented crotch pressing up painfully under those tight leather pants. He fought his continued urges to ease the Elven vampire out of his troubles.

“Now, I think we all need to sleep,” he began, once more pushing such lurid thoughts from his mind. “Put the Eclipsed Radiance back on her finger lest you lose it and then get some rest. We can all talk again after we’ve rested enough.”

“Yes, of course.” Astarion cleared his throat as he took the ring from his clean shirt pocket and slipped it back onto your ring finger. As he did so, Halsin had stood to close the doors and curtains.

“Sleep well, Astarion.” The bear of a druid squeezed his shoulder reassuringly. “And remember, all will be well.”

Astarion nodded. “Thank you again, Halsin, for everything. I owe you all a great debt.”

Halsin smiled gently. “You owe us nothing, my friend.” And with those words, he left your bedroom, closing the door behind him gently.

Sighing, Astarion slipped under the blankets and curled up beside you, watching your plump chest rise and fall from your breathing. Though your breath was still somewhat laboured, Halsin and Shadowheart’s healing was repairing you slowly. And for that, Astarion was eternally grateful.

Gently, he reached his arm over you to place his hand once more upon your stomach, focussing his senses and energy as Halsin had shown him.

After a few minutes of silence, you inhaled deeply and groaned, but remained in slumber.

Astarion stiffened as your breath rattled against his ears, and his senses focused back on your breathing.

“Just sleep, my dear. Sleep.” His words came out like a gentle plea.

With your steady and comforting breathing resuming, he felt assured that everything was finally calm. As he pressed his chest up against your sleeping form, his face rested gently against yours. Again, he focussed his senses to where his hand rested upon your belly, and a great warmth filled his entire being. He could feel them; the life that grew in you. He could now smell them, too, and tears welled up in his eyes again at the notion that all this was possible. Even though he had considered offspring before, he had never thought to bring it up to you, as he had always thought it impossible. You yourself had never mentioned children, either. Perhaps the both of you were too afraid or embarrassed to discuss it.

But it was real now, and his happiness swelled in his chest and he smiled at you sleeping beside him. If you would let him, he would love nothing more than to father more children with you one day. How he would manage running around with a gaggle of mini versions of you and himself he could not quite comprehend yet, but if it was with you, then he would manage. And with that thought lingering on his drowsy mind, he would strive to be the best father and partner that he could be.

[pastshadows]

Shadows of the Past

Chapter 24: Can You Turn Back to the Light?

Summary: After a year of blissful cohabitation, Astarion disappears without a trace, leaving behind a heartfelt letter explaining his departure. Determined to find him, you traverse Faerûn in search of your lost love, only to realize that some absences are meant to be permanent.

Returning to Waterdeep, you find solace in the company of Gale as you come to terms with Astarion's absence. But just as you begin to heal, Astarion reappears, begging for a second chance at love.

The question looms: can you forgive his abandonment and trust him once more? As you grapple with your emotions and trauma, a sinister force lurks in the shadows, targeting you for unknown reasons.

With danger closing in, you must navigate the treacherous waters of trust, love, and betrayal to uncover the truth behind the mysterious entity's motives. Will you be able to reunite with Astarion while facing the demons of your past? Can you unravel the secrets that threaten your very existence?

Setting: Post End-Game. Mostly canon compliant.

Word Count: 5.5K

Content: Explicit 18+ - intended for mature audiences.

Warnings: [Additional tags will be added, but expect mature content / read at your own risk.]

Spoilers. Mentions of in-game missable content. Violence. Sexual Assault [Implied/attempted sexual assault: Chapter 7]. Past Trauma. Murder. Death. Longing. Sexual themes. Smut. Blood drinking. Angst. Innuendos. High use of sarcasm. Completely fabricated camp interactions. Panic attacks. Anxiety.

As you and Astarion descend the winding stone staircase, the smell of fresh bread draws you toward the kitchen, but the moment you step through the doorway, it’s not breakfast but three pairs of very amused eyes that greet you. Shadowheart snickers into her tea, but Hecat rises from her chair, a dramatic grin spreading over her face as she starts clapping, the sound loud in the quiet of the room.

“Well, well,” she smirks, drawing out each word with exaggerated admiration. “Bravo, Kamena. You’ve clearly raised the bar for evening entertainment.”

Gale averts his gaze, face flushed, before he looks up at you with an apologetic yet amused smile. “I must say,” he begins, tilting his head thoughtfully, “I’ve never felt so assured that someone arrived home safely. An inspired way to announce your presence.”

You meet Gale’s grin with one of your own and bow with a theatrical sweep of your arm. “Always a pleasure, Gale. We wouldn’t want you lying awake wondering if we got lost in the night.”

Astarion quirks an eyebrow and adds with a smirk, “We do try to be considerate, don’t we, my dear? Nothing says ‘safe and sound’ like an overture of pure passion.”

You slide into the seat next to Shadowheart. Before you can pick up your fork, Shadowheart's hand darts out, her fingers brushing over the marks dotting your neck. She leans in, squinting as if examining a rare relic, her eyes sparkling with mirth.

“Oh dear.” Her lips twitching into a grin as she nudges one of the bruises. “Astarion, honestly—have you no restraint? Careless of you to leave such a mess,” she jeers.

Astarion feigns an indignant gasp, pressing a hand to his chest. “Careless? Shadowheart, my dear, I was merely caught in a... whirlwind of enthusiasm.” He glances sideways at you, a grin breaking across his face. “Besides, you were hardly innocent in all this,” he accuses. “Tell them, darling, who truly started all that… enthusiasm?”

You stifle a laugh, lifting an eyebrow. “Oh, I seem to remember someone initiating this particular ‘whirlwind’,” you quip, leaning back in your chair. “But if you’d like to blame me for your lack of control, go right ahead.”

Hecat claps her hands together, clearly delighted. “Listen to you two—like an old married couple, bickering over breakfast!” She gives you both a look that’s part amusement, part genuine affection.

You settle into your chair, grabbing a piece of bread with a flourish, as if this is the most natural thing in the world. A few months ago, the thought of this conversation would have had you squirming, but now you’re a different person—or maybe you’re simply shedding the skin of the person you once were. There’s a freedom here, a sense of comfort among friends who know every sharp edge and flaw.

Shadowheart raises her teacup. “Here’s to a memorable morning.”

Gale sips his tea, watching the two of you with that knowing glint in his eye. “So, I take it you managed to get Astarion’s siblings to your house safely?”

You nod, keeping your voice even. “We did. Though,” you glance at Astarion, who narrows his eyes with a grumble, “someone has his doubts about how they’ll leave the place in one piece.”

Astarion sniffs, crossing his arms. “Wreck my furniture, and I’ll have them crafting replacements with their godsdamned fangs,” he mutters.

Shadowheart leans forward, her tone suddenly sobering. “The vampire lord—whoever they are—is out there. We need to find them, and fast.”

You nod, already feeling the tension coil in your chest. “I know. We’ve been working through what we know, but we need to dive deeper, turn over every stone. Whatever they’re planning, we’re running out of time to figure it out.”

Astarion’s hand rests lightly on yours, a silent reminder he’s in this with you, for better or worse. You look at him, then back at the others, determination steeling in your voice. “Most vampire lords have their followers, don’t they? Thralls, like those lackeys Cazador kept in his mansion—if they’re planning something big, they’ll need help.”

Astarion nods slowly, his expression turning serious. “That’s true. A vampire lord needs hands to handle daylight tasks and find... rarer supplies. If this one is as powerful as we suspect, they’re bound to have loyal thralls by the dozen.” His gaze sharpens, and a dark edge seeps into his tone. “They always flock to the shadows, like vermin.”

“Then it’s time we start wading into the underbelly of Waterdeep,” you say. “The black markets, the taverns for sell-swords and shadowy types.”

Gale leans back in his chair, fingers drumming thoughtfully on the table. “Hecat and I can take one end of the city—check in with my contacts, feel out anything... unusual.” He glances over at Hecat, who nods, her sharp eyes already gleaming with the thrill of the hunt.

You exchange a look with Astarion and Shadowheart, feeling the silent agreement ripple between you. “We’ll sweep through the darker quarters, places you wouldn’t find on a map.”

Shadowheart’s gaze sharpens as she leans forward. “It’s a start. We will need to take care and remain vigilant. If Aldous crosses our path again, we’ll need to be ready.”

Her words settle like stones in your chest, and a surge of anger blazes up, fierce and unrestrained. Memories sear through your mind, visions that refuse to dull: Aldous’s blade stabbing into Astarion’s shoulder, the vicious gleam in his eye as he twisted the knife. You remember the jarring scrape of Astarion’s boots as Aldous wrenched him backward, their bodies entangled as they tumbled over the edge of the Arcane Tower.

Your heart hammers, almost painful in its urgency. In your mind’s eye, you see it as vividly as if you were reliving it. Astarion, sprawled and deathly still, his body battered and unmoving. For a moment, he had looked like a corpse. No movement, no breath, only the shock of blood staining his ivory skin. Aldous’s laughter echoed mockingly, knowing he had stolen something precious from you.

That could have been it, you think, a horrid twist of fear lancing through your stomach. He could have been gone. It’s a feeling that’s haunted you since, curling into your chest and anchoring there, clawing at the edges of your every moment with him. The idea of losing him, of holding his lifeless body—no, I can’t let that happen.

I won’t.

Your fingers curl around the edge of the table, knuckles white. “The next time Aldous shows his face, I’m going to fucking incinerate him until not even a wisp remains.”

Astarion’s gaze flickers over you, a subtle gleam of approval and shared ire, but also a hint of worry you weren’t expecting to find in the depths of his crimson eyes.

Hecat stands. “Let’s hope the bastard makes it easy. A vampire lord, a murderous spawn—this city’s certainly growing on me.”

You take a breath. “Astarion, Shadowheart, and I will start tonight. We can meet here in the mornings to discuss anything we’ve found.”

You sit by Astarion, your mind half-focused on the page in front of you, though every few moments your gaze drifts to him. Shadowheart approaches and leans casually over your shoulder.

“Fancy a trip into town?” She asks as if reluctant to disturb the cozy silence. “I need to gather a few supplies while we have some daylight to keep the leeches at bay, and I could use some company.”

Astarion gives Shadowheart a mockingly offended look, his lips curling into a grin that’s equal parts teasing and indignant. "Leeches?" he repeats, drawing out the word as though it's the most scandalous accusation he’s ever heard. "Honestly, Shadowheart, I prefer the term ‘elegantly cursed connoisseur of blood,’ but I suppose leeches have their charm if you enjoy something slimy and without a shred of sophistication."

Shadowheart rolls her eyes, but a smirk tugs at the corner of her mouth. "Fine, I’ll remember to use your preferred title next time, Your Grace.”

You can't help the small smile that sneaks onto your face, the tension in your chest loosening just a fraction. The sun is high, and you know she’s right—it’s as safe as Waterdeep gets. Still, the thought of leaving Astarion’s side leaves a knot in your stomach. After everything that happened, you can hardly bear the thought of not being near him, like a noose pulling tighter each time you think of that horrible fall.

Astarion catches your hesitation and laughs softly, a velvet sound that pulls your attention back to him. “Go on, darling,” he says, brushing his fingers over your arm.

His touch lingers a moment longer, a silent reassurance before he releases you, leaving your skin feeling oddly cool where his fingers once were. You let out a reluctant sigh, but you stand, giving him one last look before following Shadowheart.

The manor looms behind you as you step into the bright sunlight, and Shadowheart stifles a laugh. Her magic whispers through the air, brushing over your neck and shoulders like an invisible veil. You give her a quizzical look.

“Hardly proper to go into town like that,” she teases, eyeing the marks on your skin with an arched brow. She reaches to sweep a stray lock of hair over a particularly stubborn bite mark on your neck, her eyes glinting with amusement. “You’ll scare the merchants half to death.”

You snort, smoothing the folds of your coat, and step beside her onto the cobblestone streets of Waterdeep. The sounds of the city pulse around you, lively and familiar, a strange contrast to the tumult inside your chest.

As you walk, Shadowheart watches you out of the corner of her eye. “You’ve been… different. Not in a bad way, just… quieter.”

The market hums with vendors and patrons alike, oblivious to the turmoil in your chest. Shadowheart gives you a searching look, her gaze unwavering even as the lively crowd flows around you both.

"Astarion told me that I’m hurting him. I know I’ve kept him at arm’s length, and he’s seen through it. I just—" you pause, weaving between a pair of boisterous children, "I don’t know how to stop."

“It’s understandable, you know,” she says finally, her voice carrying a softness that surprises you. “After all he’s put you through—leaving like that, disappearing without a word... Trust is fragile, especially with something so delicate.” Her words are careful, measured, as though she’s testing the boundaries of how far she can go. “I don’t think it’s wrong to protect yourself, Kamena.” She pauses, choosing her words with care. “I think you have to ask yourself if this self-preservation is costing you more than the risk of trusting him again.”

A pit forms in your stomach as her words sink in. You glance away, watching a group of children dart past, laughing as they chase each other. “What if I can’t handle it?” you say, almost to yourself. “What if he does it again? I keep telling myself it’s better to hold back, to not give everything. To keep something for myself, so he can’t… break me.”

Shadowheart’s face softens, and she places a hand on your shoulder, grounding you with her steady presence. “Kamena, sometimes strength isn’t in holding back. Sometimes,” she says, a flicker of her own past hurts surfacing in her expression, “it’s in allowing yourself to be vulnerable. Trusting again, even when you’re afraid.”

You swallow, her words piercing through the armour you've built so carefully around your heart. “But it feels safer this way. Like, if I keep him at a distance, then whatever happens, I’ll be prepared.”

A small, sad smile tugs at her lips. “Safer, maybe, but is it what you want? I don’t think Astarion wants perfection, Kamena. I think he wants you—all of you.”

You shake your head slightly, feeling the weight of your own doubts. “And what if he leaves again? What if one day he decides I’m not worth it?”

“That’s the risk with love, isn’t it?” Shadowheart says gently. She reaches out, pulling a stray lock of your hair back, her eyes brimming with understanding. “But that’s the thing about trust. You can’t just keep the parts that feel safe. You either take the whole risk, the rawness, the unknown, or you’ll be haunted by what it could have been.”

The streets of Waterdeep are humming with life as you and Shadowheart make your rounds and pick up scrolls and potions and browse through a couple of shops for anything that might assist you in your endeavours. The conversation takes on a lighter tone for some time and flows easily, though Shadowheart never misses the chance to tease you about waking the entire manor up with your late-night carnal pursuits.

Sunlight glints off cobblestones, casting fractured reflections that dance across the shadows of the alleyways. People move past in a blur of conversation and laughter, but your mind is miles away.

You pause, something heavy settling in your chest. “Shadowheart,” you begin, your voice quieter now, careful.

She slows beside you, sensing the shift in the air, and glances over. “What is it?”

You take a breath, words tumbling in your mind but refusing to come out. Finally, you just let it spill. “Astarion said something before... before he fell off the tower,” you murmur, the words more fragile than you want them to be. “He said he would have liked to marry me in this life.”

Shadowheart’s eyes flick to you, her expression unreadable for a moment. Then, her lips quirk into a knowing smile, a touch of sympathy behind the edges. She doesn’t say anything right away, letting the silence stretch just long enough to feel like an eternity.

You feel your heartbeat quicken, your gaze turning to the side, looking anywhere but at her. “I’ve been thinking about it ever since, but... I haven’t brought it up. He hasn’t said anything about it again, and part of me wonders if he even meant it.”

There’s a pang in your chest, the same one that’s been nagging at you for days now. You’re scared—scared of what that admission means, scared of how much you want it, how much you need him to want it, too. But every time you try to voice it, the words catch in your throat, tangled up in the fear of being wrong, of opening a door that doesn’t lead to what you’re hoping for.

Shadowheart watches you closely, her gaze softening. “You’ve been afraid to ask him about it, haven’t you?”

You nod, your throat tight. "Yeah... afraid it might have been a passing remark when he thought his demise was all but assured, one he didn’t mean, or that he might regret it.”

She steps a little closer, her hand taking yours in a rare moment of warmth. “Astarion is many things, but he’s not one to say things he doesn’t mean. At least not to you.”

“You really think so?”

Shadowheart smiles. “You’ve seen it, haven’t you? How he looks at you when he thinks no one’s watching. How his words always seem to soften when they’re meant for you.”

It replays in your mind, “I would have liked to marry you in this life, but I will find you in the next, thiramin.”

The words are like shards of broken glass lodged under your skin, too deep to remove but impossible to ignore. It scares you—how much you want to hear him say something about it, anything at all. Even a flippant joke, some casual dismissal, would be better than nothing.

But what if what he says isn’t what you hope for? What if he didn’t mean it, or worse, what if he did and now he’s changed his mind because you can’t let him close? The uncertainty makes your heart ache with a longing you’ve never known how to handle.

A few words shouldn’t hold this kind of power over me.

And yet, they do. Because the truth is, you’ve spent so long keeping Astarion at arm’s length, afraid of what might happen if you let yourself need him. Afraid of how completely he could ruin you if he ever left for good. You wrap yourself in that familiar armour of detachment, hoping it will keep you safe even though you know deep down it won’t. Because, Gods, you want more, and the yearning is a wound that never quite heals.

“Thanks,” you say quietly, your voice barely above a whisper, too lost in your own desolate thoughts. You shake your head and try to bring your attention back to the present. “Please don’t mention this to him, or anyone else for that matter. Not until I know what it all means.”

Shadowheart nods, miming a zipper across her lips and a slight flick of her fingers like she’s throwing away an imaginary key. “Anytime. You don’t have to carry all of this by yourself, Kamena.”

You hate that you don’t know how to close the distance, how to let him past the barriers you’ve built so carefully. It’s a sad, quiet kind of fear that makes you restless. For now, you pretend it doesn’t hurt, because pretending is easier than facing the chance that you might never hear those words from him again.

Astarion sits on the edge of the bed, mending his armour with quick, nimble fingers. Each stitch is precise, a testament to centuries of needing to fix his own gear. He hums under his breath, pausing only when Kamena walks into the room.

She carries herself with a lightness he’s missed seeing in her, a trace of laughter still lingering in her eyes. He can’t help but smile, setting down his work and leaning back on his hands. “Well, well,” he drawls, a teasing edge colouring his voice, “someone looks positively radiant. Should I be jealous of your shopping adventure?”

Kamena rolls her eyes, pulling off her cloak and tossing it over a chair. “We got everything we needed, but Shadowheart wouldn’t stop teasing me. I’m quite sure she’s made it her life’s mission to try and make me blush at every possible opportunity.”

Astarion arches a perfectly sculpted eyebrow. “I’d wager she has enough ammunition to keep you on your toes for weeks after our performance.” He stands up, moving closer to her, delight swirling in his crimson eyes. “Though I’m almost disappointed, I missed the spectacle. There’s nothing quite as endearing as seeing you flustered. Honestly, I’m starting to feel like I deserve some compensation for missing all this amusement.”

Kamena laughs, the sound rolling through the room like warm, ringing bells. “I’ll make it up to you somehow, I promise.”

He chuckles, his mood buoyed by her good humour. It’s moments like these, fleeting but precious, that make the madness of their world feel distant. “Oh, I’ll hold you to that. In the meantime,” he gestures at his half-mended armour, “I’ll just have to endure this torturous task alone. Unless you’re feeling particularly charitable?”

Kamena surprises him by stepping forward, grabbing the needle with an exaggerated flourish. “Fine,” she declares, the playful mischief in her eyes matching his own. “If you need charity so desperately, I’ll help. How hard can mending clothes be?”

Astarion stares at her in mock horror, his lips parting as if she’d just suggested something catastrophic. “Oh no!” he exclaims, lifting his hands as if to ward off an impending disaster. “Put that needle down, my love, before we both regret it.”

She narrows her eyes, fully aware of her lack of skill but leaning into the joke. “What’s the worst that could happen? Maybe a few crooked stitches? A bit of charm added to your otherwise perfect attire?”

He holds up his hands, palms out, as if coaxing someone to back away from a ledge. “Now, now,” he says in a calming tone, though his voice brims with mirth. “Let’s think this through, shall we? That’s precious leather you’re holding, and it’s been through enough trauma already. Imagine the tragedy, the uneven stitches, the frayed threads, the affront to fashion everywhere.”

Kamena bites back a laugh, attempting to appear indignant. “I think I could manage a simple mend,” she insists, though her smile gives her away. She knows she’s terrible at it.

Astarion takes a slow step forward, as if approaching a wild animal he must handle with care. “Easy now,” he teases, eyes gleaming. “Hand over the needle, sweetheart. No one has to get hurt.”

“You’re hopeless,” she giggles affectionately, but she doesn’t relinquish the needle, still holding it like a threat.

“And you,” he replies, “are a godsdamned menace.”

He winks at her, his heart feeling unexpectedly light. It’s absurd, really, how a moment like this—frivolous and small—can feel like an anchor in the storm of everything else they face.

Kamena raises an eyebrow, her smirk growing more devilish by the second. She angles the needle dangerously close to the fine leather. Her eyes hold a wicked gleam, as if the flames of her ancestors are dancing just below the surface.

“Oh, you wouldn’t dare,” he warns, his voice smooth and rich with faux horror.

“Are you sure about that?” She taunts, her voice like velvet laced with mirth. “I mean, I’m rather unpredictable, as you know.”

“I think I know exactly how unpredictable you are,” he counters, his voice dropping to a conspiratorial whisper. “But I’m also faster than you think.”

He shifts his weight, ready to act. For a moment, time stretches taut, like the string of a bow pulled back to its limit. Kamena holds the needle poised over his armour. Astarion feels his phantom pulse quicken, not out of fear for his clothes—well, maybe a bit for his clothes—but because of the thrill of the game they’re playing.

“You think you’re fast enough?” Kamena goads. The needle’s point barely hovers over the supple leather, and her grin is wide, daring.

Astarion’s lips curve into a knowing smile. “Fast enough to stop you and make you regret ever threatening this poor, innocent garment.” He moves, swift as a shadow, fingers darting out to gently but firmly wrap around her wrist before she can poke the armour.

Kamena lets out a gasp, mock outrage spilling from her lips. “Cheater,” she accuses, but her laughter betrays her.

“Hardly,” he retorts, loosening his grip. “I’m merely protecting my one true love: impeccable fashion.”

Kamena’s giggle bubbles up like a spring as she allows him to wrest the needle from her grip. He expertly rescues his armour from her playful grasp, setting it aside as though he’s saving a small, fragile creature from certain doom. He turns back to her, eyes gleaming, and with one swift motion, he tugs her into his embrace.

“Now this,” he murmurs, a smirk curving his lips, “is the sort of behaviour I would expect from a very naughty girl.” His voice drips with honeyed mischief, teasingly accusatory, but his touch is gentle, arms wrapping around her.

He draws her close, so close that he can feel the beat of her heart against his chest, steady and wild, like the thrumming wings of a moth drawn to a flame.

Kamena tilts her head up, her eyes bright with mirth, and her lips part in a playful pout. “Me? Naughty?” she protests, her tone full of feigned innocence. “I was only trying to help, you know. You could use some assistance now and then.”

Astarion lets out a low laugh, his breath ghosting over her skin. “Help? Darling, if that’s what you call help, I fear for the well-being of my entire wardrobe.” He presses a soft kiss to her temple, lingering for a moment before pulling back just enough to look into her eyes.

“But,” he adds, his voice dipping into a tender, almost reverent tone, “I do appreciate your very dangerous brand of assistance. It keeps me on my toes—and I do enjoy the challenge.”

His thumb brushes gently across her cheek, a touch so light it feels like starlight gliding over the water’s surface.

“Naughty girls get spanked, don’t they?” She quips in a honeyed, a blend of teasing confidence and something more—something dangerously inviting.

Astarion feels his own smirk widen, utterly captivated by the change in her. He’s noticed this shift, this semi-new boldness that has crept into her lately. She’s always had a fire, never truly timid, but this is different. It feels like a resurgence of the woman she was before he shattered her heart. The guilt still settles into his bones like ice, but seeing her like this, thaws it, if just a little.

He tightens his grip on her waist, leaning in close, his voice a silky murmur. “Indeed they do,” he whispers, savouring each word. “Though I’d argue that punishment should fit the crime.” His lips curve, and he lets the idea hang between them, savouring the tension that blossoms there. “And you, my dear, are racking up quite the list of misdeeds.”

His gaze slips down to her mouth, lingering there, a predator relishing the nearness of his prey. “From endangering my precious armour to distracting me so deliciously… I think it’s only fair you receive the full measure of your consequence.” He trails his fingers slowly down her back, each touch leaving a shiver in its wake.

Kamena’s grin only grows, her eyes sparking with the challenge. He delights in this game, in the push and pull of their flirtation. It’s intoxicating, the way she dances on the edge of boldness, and he has no intention of letting her slip away from this dance.

“Tell me,” he purrs, tilting his head with feigned innocence, “just how many spankings do you think a girl as naughty as you deserves?” His thumb brushes across her lower lip, and the gesture is both gentle and possessive—a lover’s caress and a warning wrapped into one.

Kamena arches a brow, meeting his gaze unflinchingly, and Astarion feels his hunger for her flare, a fire he can’t contain. Her defiance, her allure, the way she teases and tempts—it pulls him in, like a sailor drawn to the song of a siren, knowing the danger but too entranced to care.

Astarion’s breath catches, his chest rising with a sudden, greedy inhale as Kamena drifts toward the bed. The soft, summery fabric of her dress dances around her thighs, shifting like a wisp of cloud caught in a golden sunset, and he can’t help but follow the hypnotic sway of her hips. She pauses, bending over the edge of the bed with a deliberate casualness. Her gaze finds his over her shoulder, eyes glinting with a wicked spark, a dare that ignites the heat between them.

“How many do you think I deserve?” she asks, her voice smooth as silk yet tinged with a simmering edge. Her smile is pure devilry, the kind that beckons trouble.

Her question, that taunting glint in her eyes, sends a thrill coursing through his veins. Astarion swallows, his throat suddenly dry. It’s exhilarating the way she plays with him, each gesture calculated yet achingly natural. He steps toward her, each footfall a whisper against the floor. His eyes roam appreciatively over her form, lingering on the elegant curve of her back. The air is thick, like the moments before a storm, and he relishes the way it makes his skin prickle, the way anticipation coils tightly in his gut.

“Oh, my love,” he murmurs, his voice a dark caress. “You’re asking me to measure your sins? Why, that could take all night.” He plants his hands on the bed beside her, leaning over until his lips hover just above her ear. “But if I must choose… I would say you deserve enough to remember just how tempting you are.”

He lets his words hang, knowing full well the effect they’ll have. His fingers brush the bare skin of her arms, light as drifting snowflakes, and he savours the way her body tenses and then relaxes, yielding to his touch. Kamena shifts slightly, pressing back against him with a sultry challenge. The smile she gives him is pure fire, and he feels himself slipping further into that blaze, willingly burning up in her heat.

“You’re quite confident, aren’t you?” She teases, her voice a melody wrapped in temptation, sweet and lethal. “But are you quick enough to follow through?”

Astarion’s gaze darkens, and his smile curves with a kind of predatory delight. He trails his fingers over Kamena’s back, tracing the curve of her spine through the thin fabric of her dress. “Careful, darling,” he purrs. “You’re tempting a monster.”

Kamena looks over her shoulder, eyes gleaming, utterly unafraid, and smirks. “That’s the idea.”

Astarion’s laugh is low and sinful as he places a cool hand on her lower back, letting the anticipation hang between them like the last moments before lightning strikes. His other hand comes down in a swift, playful slap, the sound echoing through the room, mingling with Kamena’s delighted gasp.

“Was that to your liking?” he teases. He brushes a strand of hair from her neck, trailing his fingers along the sensitive spot there, his fangs glinting in the light. “Or should I try again?”

Kamena laughs, low and inviting, and he swears he can feel the room spin with her audacity. Her laughter is a melody he wants to sink into, a song that fills the empty, cold places he doesn’t like to think about. For now, he’s content to let the moment stretch, to revel in the way she’s chosen to be here, with him, even with everything between them.

“Is that really all you've got?” she taunts. Her lips curl into a devious smile, goading him further, daring him to up the ante. “I've felt gusts of wind with more bite. Honestly, you hit with the strength of a child.”

He can’t help but laugh, rich and dripping with challenge. “Oh, is that how it is?” he drawls, his voice smooth as dark velvet, curling around the edges of her taunt. “Careful, love. You’re playing a dangerous game, and I’ve been known to be terribly competitive.”

Kamena shifts, glancing over her shoulder with eyes sparkling like jewels under moonlight. The defiance there is dazzling, tempting him like the edge of a blade whispering for blood. “I’ve yet to see any evidence of that.”

Astarion hums, his gaze raking over her, tracing the way her dress clings to her curves. “If it’s a demonstration you desire, I would be delighted to oblige.”

Without warning, his hand comes down again, this time harder. Kamena jolts, a shiver running up her spine, but she only laughs breathlessly. He marvels at her—his unbeating heart feels like it might thrum to life just for her.

“Better?” he asks in a seductive timbre.

His fingers trace slow, lazy circles against the small of her back, and he waits, poised and hungry, for whatever challenge she might throw back his way.

"Is that the best you’ve got?" she taunts. “Come on, Aerasumé, try again. Harder this time—make it fucking count.”

Astarion’s lips curl into a slow, devilish grin, a predator’s delight sparking in his crimson eyes. “Oh, you’re just begging for it now, aren’t you?”

Kamena’s challenge lingers—an open invitation he’s more than willing to accept. With renewed vigour, he raises his hand, delivering a sharp smack. A low moan of his name escapes her, and he trails his fingers over the spot he struck. The warmth of her skin blooms beneath his cool hand, like fire spreading over marble.

"Look at you, precious thing. So eager to challenge me. You should know by now—I always rise to the occasion."

He leans in, lips brushing against the nape of her neck, tasting the desire radiating from her. Her breath comes out in short, heated bursts, and he relishes every second of it, every whisper of his name and plea that stirs his own longing.

Her head falls forward when his fingers course over the fabric of her panties, already saturated with her desire. A drawn-out groan of appreciation hums in his throat as he deftly pulls the material aside and glides his fingers up and down her slick lips, parting her torturously slowly.

A knock on the door cuts through his enthralment, and Shadowheart’s voice follows, dry and impatient. “It’s time to go. Stop rolling around like lovesick teenagers and get moving.”

Kamena curses under her breath, the kind of low, sultry expletive that’s more alluring than frustrated. Astarion can’t help the chuckle that escapes him, even if the timing is infuriatingly inconvenient. “Well," he drawls, "it seems your punishment will have to be... postponed."

She calls out to Shadowheart, "We’ll be right down!" before turning back to him. Her kiss is swift but fierce, a promise wrapped in passion, leaving his lips tingling. “I’ll hold you to that. Until later then?”

With that, she slips away and starts changing into something more suitable for the gritty, shadow-choked underbelly of the city.

Astarion watches Kamena from the corner of his eye as she moves around the room. What will I do if she never truly trusts me? The thought slithers into his mind like poison he can’t quite shake. He knows her reasons, knows the way he broke her heart before, how he left her with wounds she might never fully heal from. The uncertainty digs into him, a sharp ache he carries quietly. It feels like a cruel joke, really: to finally be free and yet still feel tethered, unable to be the anchor she can cling to without reservation.

She is trying, but he wonders if he’s strong enough to accept it if she cannot find her way back to trust, to live with this half-trust if it means she’ll stay by his side for centuries to come. After all, he endured centuries of horror under Cazador. Compared to that, shouldn’t he be able to tolerate this? If I survived being his favourite puppet, he thinks bitterly, surely I can survive not being wholly trusted.

But it’s not the same, and he knows it. This isn’t about mere survival. It’s about yearning—yearning to be the one she confides in without hesitation, the one who holds her heart as securely as she’s managed to grip his. He hides the pain behind a charming smile, a facade he’s perfected over centuries. But inside, it hurts. It hurts to wonder if she will ever see him as more than a shadow of the man who broke her heart, and it terrifies him to think that maybe, no matter how much he loves her, no matter how much he tries, he’ll never be enough to cross the chasm of his own making.

Still, he tries. Gods, he tries, and he’ll keep trying, even if it means pretending the pain doesn’t matter, because for now, having her close, even with the space between them, is better than the alternative.

Thank you to all those who read/like/comment/follow/reblog/etc. I'm forever thankful for the support. I love reading your comments ❤️

Chapters Master List - Shadows of the Past

AO3: Crossposted

If you're interested, I also write fanfic for Ascended Astarion x Spawn Tav - Fangs and Fractured Hearts

Small Notes: - I promise we are going to progress the plot soon, but I got side tracked.

[alpydk]

Unhinged Gale HCs go!

🫂🫶💜

<3 Thank you!

1. Gale likes pineapple pizza. The poll many months ago confirmed this. This was fanbase decided so no complaints.

2. Gale would collect magic the gathering cards but not play it. Hed be the type to say "but the rules say if..."

3. He would also collect minis and never paint them, or would paint a few over the course of an evening before forgetting to paint more. He would still keep buying them though.

4. As much as the idea of having sex in a library would sound fun to him, he would also be mindful of what section they were in and the amount of noise being made. He wouldn't want to disturb others. There would be a lot of sorrys if shushed.

5. He looks like a young Mel Gibson without his beard and short hair.

6. Gale only learnt to cook once he got stuck in his tower. Until then he was an eat out every night type of guy. He probably had enchanted self cleaning cutlery. (Which had to be absorbed.) Now it's normal cutlery.

7. He speaks more languages than he claims and often eavesdrops on conversations. In my head he speaks elvish and some ancient spell weaving dialect.

8. He only wears purple because of Mystra. He doesn't like purple but after he wore it once people just assumed it was his favourite and started buying him stuff in that colour. His robes he wears are from his mum and he was too polite to say he would prefer them in blue or grey.

9. He plays the harp. (See kill the grove dialogue)

10. He has a favourite word or words, that he likes to try and slip into conversation every now and again. "Well, I would say I'm feeling rather discombobulated."