#gale never understood her

[persevereforahappyending]

A Legacies Secret |12|

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: Language, Crime Scene, Talks of Murder

Word Count: 2.9k+

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

Sam sighed, running a hand through her hair as she stepped back into the hall. She understood where her sister was coming from, hell, she couldn’t even blame Tara. Sam would probably tell herself she was a danger and to stay away as well. She knew it wasn’t completely rational, but there was an officer right outside Tara’s room, another down the hall, and another in the lobby. There was no reason to think Tara would be in danger unless she was with Sam herself or with you.

Ghostface attacked Tara to draw Sam back to town and it worked. He then attacked you when he knew you’d be away from everyone else. So far, Ghostface’s plan has worked perfectly. This Ghostface knew who Sam’s father was, it took her reading her mom’s old diary to learn that and yet, this monster somehow found out. Then there was you, you were the daughter of Gale Weathers and Dewey Riley, Ghostface learned that before even you did. Ghostface somehow learned Gale had a child, and that child grew up to be you.

Sam knew every previous Ghostface was a part of the friend group, and the killings always went back to the very beginning. This all seemed like a lot for one of Tara's friends to plan though. Whoever did this would have had to do their research; they would have had to have connections. Gale did everything in secret with you, she even left you outside the hospital to remain anonymous, Sam couldn’t even begin to imagine how Ghostface learned that information, if they specifically went searching for some reason or they got lucky and dug from there.

You might not believe it, considering you were at the top of everyone’s suspect list, but you weren’t even on Sam’s list, not anymore. After watching you and Tara together she saw how much you loved her sister, you would literally die before you let anything happen to her, there was no way you’d ever hurt her. What really sold her was your reaction to hearing the truth, like she told Tara, you’d have to be one hell of an actor to sell that. You looked exactly how Sam felt all those years ago, your world shattering before your eyes.

Sam felt for you, she truly did. Learning her dad wasn’t her dad and her real dad was in fact a serial killer definitely sucked, it was something she’d be dealing with in therapy probably for the rest of her life. Despite all that though for the first half of her life she had a loving family, everything was perfect. You never had any of that though, you grew up knowing your family didn’t want you, you grew up alone. The only person you seemed to truly have in your life was Tara. Sam sighed; she asked you to stay away from Tara.

“You, okay?” Richie asked. Sam didn’t have time to stew in her guilt for long as she came back to reality, seeing Richie in front of her, watching her with concern all over his face.

Sam nodded, she looked around, the same officer was still outside Tara’s room, typing away on his phone. Judy was down the hall talking to another officer and pointing to your room. All of Tara’s friends had left though, just as she asked. Part of Sam wondered if she should do the same and just come back in the morning, so far, every time she visited Tara, she seemed to be making things worse.

“Want to go back to the motel?” Richie asked, giving her an awkward smile. “You need to rest, today was a lot,” he reached up and gave her arm a comforting rub.

Sam gave him a sad smile and nodded. “Yeah,” she whispered. Maybe she just needed a break, she just needed to go and sleep in an actual bed, her mind might be more at ease staying at the hospital, but she didn’t think she’d get much sleep in the waiting room chairs.

She followed Richie out of the hospital. “I’ll grab the car,” he whispered before running off across the parking lot.

Sam bounced up and down on her feet outside the hospital. She tried to ignore the fact that Dewey and Gale were clearly arguing a few feet away from her.

“You kept our daughter from me!” Dewey tried to shout but his voice ended up cracking. “Our daughter.”

“I know, I know,” Gale said. She reached out for Dewey, but he stepped away. Sam really was trying not to eavesdrop; she just couldn’t help it. “I’m sorry, I know that’s not enough. I don’t know what else to say.”

“There’s nothing to say!” Dewey gestured widely. “I knew your career was important to you but why didn’t you say something? Out of all the ways…” he shook his head. “Why didn’t you just leave her with me?”

Gale opened and closed her mouth a few times. “I was scared.” Dewey shook his head, clearly not wanting to hear this excuse. “We had just broken up; I was in New York.”

“But you came back to town, you left her here, you-you-,” he gripped at his hair. “We could have figured something out.”

“Let me make this right,” Gale whispered, stepping closer.

Dewey looked at Gale long and hard for a moment before slowly shaking his head. “I’m not sure you can.” With that he walked off, leaving Gale to stand there crying alone.

Sam let out a relieved breath when she saw Richie pull up. She ran to the car as quickly as she could. She had enough going on at the moment, the last thing she wanted was to get caught up in your apparent family drama. She couldn’t blame you or Dewey though, Sam couldn’t even forgive her own mother for keeping her birth father a secret, she didn’t see how you or Dewey could ever forgive Gale.

Sam rested her arm on the door and her head in her hand, she stared out the window as Richie drove them to the motel. Sam had picked out the motel, it was one of the only ones in town, and she had yet to even enter the room.

“And we’ve arrived,” Richie said, breaking Sam out of her trance.

She got out of the car and followed Richie to the door. Richie opened the door, doing a little wave with his hand as he gestured inside the room. Sam smiled at his theatrics but as soon as she got to the doorway she stopped. “What’s wrong?” Richie asked.

“You know, I think I need to clear my head,” Sam said, stepping back. “I’m going to go for a drive.”

“Want me to come?”

Sam shook her head. “I think I just need some time alone.”

“You sure?”

“Yeah,” Sam nodded. “I won’t be too long.” She leaned forward, giving Richie a quick kiss before plucking the keys from his hands.

“Okay,” Richie said before entering the room.

Sam got in the driver’s seat of the car. She stared at the motel building in front of her, her body was absolutely exhausted, the only thing calling her name was the crappy bed she knew was inside. Her mind was going a mile a minute though, she knew she’d never be able to rest like this, she just needed to clear her head. She started the car and slowly began to back out of the parking space and turn back onto the main road.

Sam drove around aimlessly, despite growing up in the town she didn’t have a destination in mind, she just kept turning at a stop sign. She furrowed her brow when she saw blue lights flashing up ahead. She looked around, her heart picking up slightly when she realized what street she was on exactly. She pulled over on the side of the road, away from the emergency vehicles. She rushed across the street, her eyes frantically searching for a familiar face, specifically one she was desperate to see safe and sound.

There were already several police cruisers and an ambulance at the house, officers had even already taped up the scene. It hadn’t been too long since everyone left the hospital, when Sam left Judy was still there. Whatever happened had to have just occurred, the quick response of the authorities did nothing to ease Sam’s anxieties.

Sam began to go under the police tape when an officer appeared in front of her. “Sorry ma’am, this is an active crime scene,” he said, holding up his hand.

“What happened?” Sam asked, trying to see around the officer.

Sam’s eyes landed on a yellow tarp being placed over a body on the front porch. “The sheriff.”

Sam’s eyed widened, she had just been with the sheriff, Mindy said the sequel characters, as she liked to call them, didn’t matter, there was no reason for anyone to think Judy would be attacked, besides, she was the sheriff, that wasn’t an easy person to go after.

“What about her son? Sam asked, her eyes instantly scanning for him. “Wes, please, I’m a friend.” Wes only had his mom; she couldn’t imagine him witnessing this or discovering her body.

When Sam looked up, meeting the cops' eyes for the first time, she saw it on his face, she knew what his next words would be. “I’m sorry,” he whispered. He turned to walk back across the lawn, back to the crime scene.

Sam ran a hand through her hair. She was just with Wes, he wasn’t supposed to be a target, there was no reason for him to be a target. Mindy was naïve enough to believe this Ghostface was only going after those connected to the first set of killings and Sam was stupid enough to believe it. Judy might not have liked Sam but without her around, the investigation would slow down even more, everyone would be more concerned with the sheriff's death than actually stopping Ghostface.

“I can’t believe you,” Sam heard a man say. She turned to see Gale Weathers walking across the sidewalk, speedily in her heels away from a news van. Dewey was trailing after her, clearly unhappy with whatever Gale was doing or about to do.

“This was the only way to come,” Gale snapped, spinning around to glare at Dewey.

“Oh, was our secret daughter being in danger not enough for you?” Dewey whispered harshly.

“I didn’t report at the hospital. I would never do that to her,” her voice cracked.

Dewey let out a humorless chuckle. “Gale Weathers putting someone else before her career? Guess that makes you mother of the year.” Dewey brushed past her, not waiting for her to say anything.

While Dewey began to talk to one of the officers close by, Sam watched as Gale ran her hands down her blazer, smoothing out any wrinkles. When Gale turned around Sam couldn’t even tell Dewey’s words had affected her, she kept her face completely neutral as she walked to a spot in front of the police tape. The only indication that Dewey’s words hit her was the way she gripped the microphone in her hands. When her camera man popped up, propping the camera on his shoulder as he pointed at her to begin, she fell right into reporter mode. She smiled at the camera and began to recount the recent Ghostface killings, effortlessly leading into the latest attack on Judy and Wes.

“Hey!” Sam shouted when she caught sight of a familiar officer. “Hey, what are you doing here?” She shouted again, finally getting officer Vincent to look at her.

“I heard the call about the sheriff,” he said, as if that explained everything.

“Who’s guarding my sister?”

“All hands-on deck,” he shrugged and made his way over to the sheriff's body and the other officers.

Sam let out a frustrated groan, she knew the murder of the sheriff was top priority, but she couldn’t believe that cop left his position. Deputy Vincent had orders to protect Tara, he clearly wasn’t doing that, Sam highly doubted he could bring something new to the table that the other officers couldn’t. Sam’s eyes widened when she realized the cop who had been guarding her sister’s door was now standing across the lawn, nowhere near the hospital.

Sam didn’t hesitate to take off back towards her car. “Where are you going?” Dewey shouted after her.

“My sister is in danger!” Sam shouted back; she didn’t have time to waste. She told you to stay away from Tara, she herself left the hospital, now the one person ordered to protect Tara was also gone, there was literally no one standing between Tara and Ghostface coming after her.

Sam didn’t know shit about the movies, she didn’t know how any of this was actually supposed to work. What she did know though was that whoever was doing this was trying to hurt Sam for some reason and now that her sister was defenseless the easiest way to hurt Sam would be to go after Tara again. Ghostface let Tara live the first time, that was just to draw Sam back to town though, there was no way he’d let her live the second time.

“What are you doing?” Sam asked when she saw Dewey running after her.

“Figured you could use backup,” Dewey sighed, though he didn’t seem thrilled about most likely running straight into the line of fire.

“You don’t need to stay?” Sam flicked a glance across the way where Gale stood, talking to her camera man as she gestured behind her, talking about the crime scene.

“This isn’t where I’m needed,” is all Dewey said.

Sam didn’t waste anymore time before she jumped in the car, quickly starting it, she barely checked her mirrors as she whipped back out onto the road. She ignored the way Dewey groaned, his hands flailing to grasp the handle on the door as he was flung back against the seat.

With one hand Sam whipped out her phone, quickly tapping on Richie’s contact. “Hey,” Richie greeted after a few rings.

“Get to the hospital,” Sam said quickly.

“What? Why? What’s going on?”

“I think Tara’s in danger.”

There was a long pause, Sam wondered if she somehow had lost him. “You want me to go to the hospital where a psycho killer might be?” She could hear the hesitation in his voice.

“Richie, please,” Sam begged.

“Okay, okay, I’m going.”

“We’ll meet you there.” Sam made an abrupt right turn, letting her phone fly out of her hand and into Dewey’s lap.

Dewey let out a groan and held out the phone to Sam. “Sorry,” she whispered. She quickly took the phone back, scrolling through the contacts until she found the one she wanted.

“Now, who are you calling?” Dewey asked.

“Y/N,” Sam answered instantly. Dewey furrowed his brow; he opened his mouth to say something else but before he could Sam heard the little click indicating someone had picked up. “Y/N,” she practically screamed into the phone.

“Too what do I owe the displeasure Samantha?” you asked, clearly still pissed at her.

Sam couldn’t blame you; she couldn’t even be bothered to care you called her Samantha, there were more important matters at hand. “Ghostface is going after Tara.”

“What?” You instantly got serious. “How do you know?” It sounded like you were shuffling around.

“Judy’s dead.” There was silence on the other end, Sam couldn’t even hear you moving around anymore. “Wes too.”

“Fuck,” you whispered.

“He’s going after Tara.” Sam let out a shaky breath, she knew how hypocritical she was, she told you to stay away from Tara because you were going to put her in danger and now, she was calling you, her only hope at protecting Tara. “Look I’m-”

“He’s not laying a fucking hand on her,” you cut her off. Sam couldn’t help but glance at her phone, your voice had gotten much darker, she really wouldn’t want to be Ghostface at the moment.

“Thank you,” she whispered.

“Whatever,” with that you hung up.

Sam blinked away a few tears, you were there, Tara would be fine. She didn’t miss the way Dewey was glancing at her. “I told her to stay away from Tara,” Sam whispered.

“And yet she was the one you called,” he said.

“I knew she’d ignore me,” Sam let out a humorless chuckle.

“She really loves her,” Dewey whispered more to himself.

Sam spared a quick glance at Dewey. He was slumped in the seat, staring out the windshield but at nothing in particular. Sam couldn’t imagine what he must be going through, his wife, ex-wife, love of his life, never told him they had a daughter together. Sam might not have known Dewey all too well, but she knew he was a good man. He and you were robbed of getting to be a family. He was robbed of getting to be a father and you were robbed of getting a loving father.

Sam nodded. “She’s very protective,” Sam said quietly. “She won’t let anyone, no matter who they are,” She smiled to herself, remembering how you got with her when it came to Tara, you didn’t care she was Tara’s older sister, your only priority was making sure Tara was okay, “hurt someone she loves.”

Sam caught the small, yet sad, smile on Dewey’s face. Sam whipped the wheel, making another sharp turn. Everything was going to be fine, you were with Tara, you would protect her, and she and Dewey were on the way, no one else was going to die today.

[moonselune]

Seluneyyyy I can’t get over the dark bg3 content!!!! I am absolutely devouring it and am ravenous for more!! 🥵 Especially for Gale, Astarion, and Halsin! SO enchanted with your writing style and everyone is so IC down to the last detail!

Just an idea for a future one—you could base it off of “Just where do you think you’re going?” like an escape attempt or something

Xxx

mwhahahahahha yes yes yes I love this series icl

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Dark!BG3 | Escape Attempt

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For: Conqueror!Minthara, MotherSuperior!Shadowheart, God!Gale, Ascended!Astarion, Naturist!Halsin

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CW: Controlling, manipulation, murder, gore, coercion, forced memory loss, entrapment

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Conqueror Minthara:

After weeks of confinement and illness, Minthara's tender care brought you back from the brink (a brink she had pushed you towards but you tried not to dwell on that). Though you were far from fully recovered. One morning, restless and craving some semblance of freedom, you decided to take a walk around the gardens. It was a rare privilege, and one Minthara had permitted as a gesture of goodwill.

The gardens were eerily beautiful, filled with lush, vibrant plants and flowers that contrasted sharply with the gruesome displays of traitors’ corpses hanging from gnarled trees and spikes. Each corpse was a grim reminder of Minthara’s ruthlessness, a warning to any who might consider betrayal. As you walked among them, the air thick with the scent of decay, a rising panic began to claw at your insides.

Your breath quickened, heart pounding in your chest. You could almost see yourself among the corpses, your life snuffed out as easily as theirs had been. The terror grew, feeding on itself, until you were consumed by the overwhelming need to escape.

Without thinking, you turned and began to run, your steps frantic and uneven. You stumbled through the gardens, desperate to put as much distance between yourself and the macabre displays as possible. But in your panic, you collided with a solid figure, the impact jarring you back to reality.

Minthara stood before you, her eyes narrowing with a mix of surprise and amusement.

"Where do you think you are going?" she asked, her voice a soft, dangerous purr.

You couldn’t find the words to respond, your mouth dry and your mind blank. You could only think of escape, of getting away from this house, this place, this woman who held your life in her hands. You tried to push past her, but Minthara’s grip was firm and unyielding. She encircled your waist with her arms, pulling you close with an ease that belied her strength.

"Clearly, you are still unwell," she murmured, her breath warm against your ear. "Come, let’s get you back to the garden."

The suggestion was a trigger, and your panic surged again. You struggled against her hold, but she was unmovable. In your desperation, you found yourself nestling closer to her, throwing your face into her shoulder and clinging to her, desperately trying to hide from the sight of the corpses that haunted your vision.

Minthara’s eyes lit up with realization and satisfaction. She understood the source of your panic, and it pleased her. She placed her palm on the back of your head and held you dear to her.

"Oh, my dearest," she whispered, her voice dripping with dark delight. "Are you frightened? You should be. This is what happens to those who defy me."

She held you tighter, her arms a cage you couldn’t escape. Her fingers brushed through your hair soothingly, a stark contrast to the horror around you.

"But you are not like them, are you?" She cooed to you, "You are mine, and I take care of what is mine."

Minthara began to lead you back towards the house, her grip never loosening. You clung to her, your panic attack rendering you helpless, your body trembling against hers. She guided you with a twisted sense of gentleness, her satisfaction evident in the way she held you, in the tone of her voice as she whispered reassurances.

"Shh, shh," she hushed, her lips brushing against your temple. "You are safe with me. As long as you obey, you will never end up like them. Do you understand?"

You nodded weakly, the fight drained from you by your terror and her unyielding presence. Minthara smiled, a cruel, victorious smile, and continued to lead you back into the safety of the house. As you crossed the threshold, the grisly sights of the garden faded from view, but the memory of them remained, a chilling reminder of your place in Minthara’s world.

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Mother Superior Shadowheart:

The dim light of the temple flickered as you slipped from Shadowheart's grasp, your heart pounding in your chest. The shadows that usually comforted you felt suffocating now, and an inexplicable urge to escape overwhelmed you. You didn't know why you needed to run, but the pull was irresistible, like a siren song luring you to freedom.

The more distance you put between yourself and the temple, the lighter you felt. The oppressive weight on your shoulders began to lift, and a clarity you hadn't known in months started to seep into your mind. You moved through the darkened hallways, past ancient statues and altars, each step bringing a sense of liberation.

Finally, you reached the edge of the temple, the threshold to the outside world just a few steps away. The moonlight bathed the entrance in a silvery glow, and you felt a wave of relief wash over you. Freedom was within your grasp. But as you lifted your foot to take that final step, a voice shattered the serene silence.

"Where do you think you're going?" Shadowheart's voice was panicked, her eyes wide with fear and confusion as she appeared before you, seemingly out of nowhere.

"I… I don't know," you stammered, the urge to run still strong within you. "It just felt right."

Shadowheart's expression softened, but her eyes remained filled with worry. "Please, come back to me," she pleaded, reaching out a hand. "You don't understand what's happening. You need to stay with me."

You hesitated, torn between the instinct to flee and the bond you shared with Shadowheart. You eyed her with confused caution as she stepped closer, her presence commanding yet desperate.

"We belong together," she insisted, her voice a mixture of urgency and affection.

The seconds stretched into an eternity as you stood on the brink of freedom, your mind waging a war with itself. Shadowheart's eyes bored into yours, her desperation palpable. She couldn't afford to lose you—not now, not ever.

Growing impatient, Shadowheart's demeanor shifted. She muttered an incantation under her breath, her fingers weaving a quick, intricate pattern in the air. You felt a wave of magic wash over you, and your vision blurred. Your legs gave out, and darkness claimed you before you could react.

When you regained consciousness, you found yourself back in your shared quarters, the familiar surroundings a stark contrast to the freedom you had nearly tasted. Shadowheart sat beside you, her face a mask of concern and relief. She had carried you back, her determination to keep you by her side evident in every action.

"You can't leave," she whispered, her voice breaking. "You belong with me. You belong to me."

You tried to sit up, but the remnants of the spell still weighed heavily on you. Shadowheart gently pushed you back down, her touch both tender and firm.

"Rest now," she urged. "You need to regain your strength."

As you lay there, exhaustion pulling you back into unconsciousness, you couldn't shake the feeling that something vital had been taken from you. The pull to escape still lingered, but for now, there was no running away. You were hers, bound by a connection that you would never understand.

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God of Ambition Gale:

The desire to reconnect with the mortal world had been growing within you for weeks, an insistent whisper in your mind that became impossible to ignore. The material plane called to you, a siren song of simpler times and fleeting pleasures. The idea of feeling the sun on your skin, of walking among ordinary people, filled you with a yearning that bordered on desperation.

You waited for a moment when Gale was deeply engrossed in his divine affairs, a rare instance when his attention was not focused on you. Slipping away from his grand palace, you moved quickly and silently, your heart pounding with both fear and excitement. The portal to the material plane shimmered ahead of you, a gateway to the world you once knew.

Just as you reached the portal, ready to step through and taste freedom once more, a voice, rich and resonant, stopped you in your tracks.

"Where do you think you are going?" Gale's tone was smooth, but there was an undercurrent of displeasure that sent a shiver down your spine. You turned slowly to face him, trying to muster a semblance of calm.

"I just wanted to see the mortal world again, to reconnect with the life I had before," you explained, your voice trembling slightly.

Gale's eyes darkened, a dangerous glint appearing in them. "Mortal life? Those lesser beings are beneath you now. You belong by my side, not mingling with them."

Frustration surged within you, a rebellion against the gilded cage you were trapped in. "I'm going, whether you like it or not," you declared, turning back towards the portal.

A dark chuckle echoed through the air, and Gale's presence seemed to fill the entire space. "Are you really trying to test my powers?" he asked, amusement and a hint of malice lacing his words.

Before you could take another step, the world around you shifted. In a blink, you found yourself back in Gale's throne room, chained to his godly throne. The chains were ornate and shimmering with an unearthly light, but they were unyielding. You pulled and twisted, trying to break free, but the more you struggled, the tighter they became, drawing you closer to Gale.

He sat on the throne, his gaze fixed on you with a mix of possessiveness and irritation.

"You cannot leave me," he said softly, his voice a velvet caress. "You are mine, bound to me in ways you cannot comprehend."

You continued to fight against the chains, your breath coming in ragged gasps, but it was futile. The chains tightened further, the metal biting into your skin, making escape impossible. Gale watched your struggle with a mixture of pity and amusement.

"Why do you resist?" he asked, leaning forward. "I have given you everything—power, immortality, a place by my side. Why do you long for the mundane, the ephemeral?"

"Because it's real," you whispered, tears of frustration and helplessness streaming down your face. "Because it's life."

Gale's expression softened slightly, but his resolve remained unyielding. He stood, his hand reaching out to gently lift your chin, forcing you to meet his gaze.

"Your life is here now," he said firmly. "With me. Embrace it, or you will only find yourself in more pain."

The chains pulled you even closer to him, until you were practically in his lap, your body pressed against his. He held you there, his arms wrapping around you with a possessive tenderness that made your heart ache.

"You are mine," he murmured, his lips brushing against your ear. "Forever."

The reality of your situation settled over you like a suffocating blanket. No matter how much you longed for the mortal world, for the freedom to live as you once had, you were bound to Gale, his power and will inescapable. And as he held you close, whispering words of possession and eternity, you realized that your struggle was not just against the chains that bound you, but against the very essence of your existence by his side.

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Ascended Astarion:

The grand hall of Astarion's palace was bathed in opulence, the glittering chandeliers casting a warm, inviting glow over the sea of influential nobles and highborn guests. The air was thick with the heady scent of fine wines and exotic perfumes, mingling with the sound of laughter and music. Astarion, now an ascended vampire lord, moved gracefully through the crowd, his every gesture a blend of charm and predatory grace. By his side, you played the role of his dark consort, your heart pounding with a mix of fear and determination.

Astarion's intention for the evening was clear: to ply his guests with drink and charm, loosening their tongues to reveal their most guarded secrets. His smile was disarming, his laughter infectious, and soon the nobles were clinking glasses, sharing confidences they would never dare speak in the light of day.

"Stay close," Astarion murmured in your ear as he stepped away to engage a prominent lord in conversation. You nodded, your mind racing. This was the moment you had been waiting for, the moment you had meticulously planned for weeks.

You slipped onto the lively dance floor, the music and swirling bodies providing the perfect cover. Your eyes scanned the crowd, seeking out the person you had chosen—a mortal who bore a striking resemblance to you. With a quick, practiced motion, you swapped overcoats, draping your ornate garment over their shoulders and taking their simpler attire.

Blending in with the guests, you made your way towards the exit, your heart pounding with each step. The freedom of the material plane called to you like a siren song, and the thought of finally escaping Astarion's gilded cage filled you with a desperate hope. As you approached the noble's carriage, you slipped inside, your breath catching in your throat.

But your relief was short-lived. Sitting opposite you, his eyes gleaming with amusement, was Astarion.

"And where do you think you are going?" he asked, his voice a silken purr.Panic surged through you, and you lunged for the door, but his hand shot out, grabbing your wrist with an unbreakable grip.

"Let me go!" you cried, but Astarion only chuckled, pulling you back into the carriage.

"I must admit, I'm impressed," he said, his tone one of mock admiration. "Such a clever little scheme. But did you truly think I would ever mistake that wretch for you?" His eyes bore into yours, his amusement fading to reveal a flicker of hurt. "You are mine. My dark consort."

"Spawn," you spat, the word filled with venom. "An imitation of your power, forever forced at your feet."

Astarion sighed, his interest in the conversation waning. "You will be a true vampire one day, once you learn to behave." His grip tightened on your wrist. "Clearly, you are in need of more discipline."

With a swift motion, he pulled you from the carriage, leading you back into the palace. The revelry continued, the guests oblivious to your plight as Astarion guided you to his throne. He sat down, pulling you onto his lap with a possessive grip. His lips brushed against your neck, sending a shiver down your spine.

You blushed, flustered by the intimacy of his touch. You hated being put on display like this, a taste of your punishment later, you assumed. Though as his lips trailed up your neck, leaving a burning sensation in their wake, your resolve began to waver. The room seemed to close in around you, the sounds of the party fading into a distant hum.

"You belong to me," Astarion murmured against your skin, his breath warm and tantalizing. "And you will learn to accept it."

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Naturist Halsin:

You had been planning your escape from Halsin’s grove for a few weeks now. You could not deny the serene beauty of the druid’s sanctuary had been a temporary refuge, but you knew you couldn't stay. The dense forest that surrounded the grove seemed to close in on you, a reminder that this was not your home. You longed for freedom, for the open road and the chance to leave the past behind.

Tonight, the moonlight cast an ethereal glow over the grove, illuminating the path you intended to take. You moved silently through the shadows, careful not to disturb the sleeping druids and the wildlife. Your heart pounded in your chest, a mixture of fear and excitement as you neared the edge of the grove.

But as you stepped beyond the protective circle of ancient trees, a deep voice cut through the night air, freezing you in your tracks.

"And where do you think you are going?"

You turned slowly, dread pooling in your stomach as you faced Halsin. The druid stood tall and imposing, his eyes glinting with a mixture of amusement and disappointment.

"I—I was just going for a walk," you stammered, trying to sound casual.

Halsin chuckled softly, the sound rich and deep. "A walk, you say? At this hour, and with all your belongings packed? Interesting choice."

You swallowed hard, realizing how transparent your lie had been. Halsin's presence was overwhelming, a force of nature unto itself. He stepped closer, his gaze never leaving yours.

"Do you truly think you can deceive me, my heart?" he asked, his tone gentle but firm. "I have watched over you since you arrived here. I know every thought, every plan that crosses your mind."

You tried to back away, but Halsin moved with surprising swiftness, his large hands gently but firmly grasping your wrists. His touch was warm, almost soothing, but the strength behind it was undeniable.

"You cannot run from what binds you here," he murmured, his voice a soothing lull. "Let me show you."

Before you could protest, Halsin began to chant in a language you did not understand. His voice was low and melodic, each word resonating with ancient power. You felt a strange heat building where his fingers gripped your wrists, the warmth intensifying into a searing pain.

You cried out, but Halsin's grip was unyielding. The pain grew, spreading up your arms, as if fire were coursing through your veins. You struggled, attempting to yank your wrists away but it was futile. Halsin was unyielding. The incantation reached its climax, and the burning sensation became unbearable.

Then, just as suddenly as it had begun, the pain ceased. Halsin released your wrists, and you staggered back, gasping for breath. You looked down and saw intricate floral patterns etched into your skin, glowing faintly in the moonlight.

"What have you done?" you demanded, your voice trembling with fear and anger. Halsin smiled, a serene and knowing smile.

"I have bound you to me," he said simply. "These markings are a part of you now. They will keep you safe, and they will ensure you do not stray far from the protection of the grove, from me,"

You took another step back, turning to run from him but with a mere motion of Halsin’s finger, you felt an invisible force pull you forward. An unseen chain bound to your wrists. You stumbled, falling to your knees before him. The realization hit you like a physical blow—you were bound to him, unable to leave his side.

"Why?" you whispered, tears of frustration and helplessness welling in your eyes. "Why are you doing this?"

Halsin knelt before you, his hand gently cupping your cheek. A thumb brushing a wayward tear from your cheek.

"Because you are important to me, and to the balance of this grove," he said softly. "I cannot let you go, not when you are still in need of guidance and protection."

His touch was tender, and despite your anger and fear, a part of you found comfort in it.

"Stay," he murmured, his voice like a warm blanket enveloping you. "Let me show you the beauty of this world, the peace that can be found in nature’s embrace."

You had no choice but to obey. Bound by his magic, you were a prisoner of his will. Yet as you looked into his eyes, you saw a deep well of kindness and a genuine desire to protect. Perhaps, in time, you would come to understand his reasons - he hoped.

─── ⋅ ∙ ∘ ☽ ༓ ☾ ∘ ⋅ ⋅ ───

Hehehehehehehe hope you all enjoyed it ! - Seluney xox

[the-astral-sea]

Morning Wood (Gale x fem!Tav) (smut)

18+ I decided to write something vulgar and smutty and I’ve never written anything like this before so I hope it’s good. It’s a bit filthy and not a long read, but I enjoyed testing my writing abilities with something new :)

Set after the defeat of Ketheric, it’s Gales turn to collect the fire wood before hitting the road. Tav wakes him up, and things progress from there. Like, really progress.

The air was thick with anticipation. After destroying Ketheric and claiming his stone, the Shadow Cursed Lands could finally begin to heal. The birds could finally return, flowers and trees could finally grow, life could flourish once again and the shell of Moonrise could finally be restored to it’s former glory, standing as a beacon of hope and serving as a place of healing and worship to Selune.

The battle last night was long, strenuous and surprising, but well fought and well won nonetheless. Tav was covered in cuts and bruises, as was everyone else in the party - but it didn’t matter. Ketheric’s defeat and the promise of a better future was worth every drop of blood, every aching muscle and every tear shed.

As morning came around, the camp slowly came to life. Each individual a mixture of happy, exhausted and anxious about the road ahead to Baldurs Gate. “I can’t wait to see this place once Thaniel has healed the land” Karlach sighed longingly, looking over to Tav who had just stumbled out of her tent with a smile. “It’s going to be beautiful. I can’t wait until we no longer need to light fires in the morning, it’s so strange how the darkness tricks us into thinking it’s constantly night time here” she replied, “speaking of which, it’s Gale’s turn to collect the morning wood. Is he up yet?” her voice was groggy and she rubbed her eyes, trying hard to wake herself up and plan for the day ahead. “Not yet Solider, it might be worth giving him a nudge. There’s no time for a lie-in unfortunately”. Tav obliged and yawned as she plodded over to Gales tent, still in her nightgown, her hair wild and makeup smeared after failing to remove it the night before. Her hands carefully untied one of the bonds keeping his tent closed as she made her way inside, revealing a peacefully sleeping wizard with one hand on his chest, the other still grasping at a half opened book. She smiled down at the sight. He looked so at peace it was almost a shame to disturb him, but things needed to be done no matter how cute he looked tangled in his sheets. So focused on his face and the way he smiled as he slept, Tav didn’t even notice the distinct bulge lower down in his blanket. Had she payed attention, she may have worded her next sentence a bit more mindfully.

“Gale? Wake up, you need to sort out morning wood” her voice was soft and calm, so she didn’t understand why he awoke with such a shocked expression and immediately turned bright red. The usually chatty Gale stared up at her with wide eyes and no words, shuffling slightly in his bedroll. “What? It’s your turn, get up” she chuckled, ruffling his hair and sitting cross legged next to him, still completely oblivious to the hard situation between his legs. “Oh! Right, yes. I will do that shortly, I just need a moment” he finally stuttered, adjusting himself in a poor attempt to conceal the awkward truth. Tav, however, still had no idea why he was acting so strangely and rolled her eyes before continuing, “There’s no time for a lie-in, you should really get up now sir” she jested, noticing him turn red again at the nickname ‘sir’.

“Tav… I’m already up, if you know what I mean. I could really use a few minutes” Gale sighed with a defeated tone, not knowing how else to approach the situation to the clearly confused woman sat next to him. It was only then that she let her eyes wander to the rest of his body and finally understood why he seemed so flustered. The large lump in his sheets was a dead giveaway to his behaviour; it was now Tav’s turn to have her cheeks shift to a rosey hue. “Oh my, I’m sorry. I’m still half asleep myself, I didn’t even think” she chuckled awkwardly, still glancing down at the twitching shape lurking beneath the covers. She should’ve looked away but her eyes refused to move, they were transfixed, curious and eager. Her mind had often wondered what Gale looked like in all his glory, she’d desired him for quite some time now and their close, flirty bond had been building up to a more intimate understanding of one another for weeks. “You definitely have nothing to feel awkward about, I’ll tell you that much” she blushed, ripping her gaze away from his cock to meet his eyes. His eyes that were now darkened with desire and glimmer of danger. He chuckled in response then repeated himself again, not wanting to assume anything or cross any boundaries, “why thank you, I just need a few minutes to calm down and I’ll be right out” there was a hint of hope in his tone that Tav couldn’t quite ignore. Looking at him in this state was causing quite the stir, and it was clear that his embarrassment had shifted to lustful confidence at her reaction. “You know, I could help you out with that” she could hardly believe herself, the words slipped out of her mouth without a thought, it was as if she’d completely forgotten how to filter herself. Who could blame her? There was an undeniable charm to Gale, not to mention an undeniable attraction between the two. The way he tried to hide his desires only made him more alluring, and Tav wanted nothing more than to unleash him. At her words, he smiled coyly and motioned for Tav to come closer, holding eye contact as she floated towards him like a ghost. He rested his hand on the back of her head, brushing over her tousled hair before holding her cheek as he moved in for a kiss. It was slow and passionate, filled with weeks worth of longing. Tav’s hand moved down his body under the sheets and her mind was set alight with the feeling of his warm, soft skin under her fingers. His body was toned and hairier than she’d imagined, and it drove her wild realising that her fantasies were about to come true as she continued to work her way down him.

“Are you sure? We can talk about this more before we dive into anything if you’d li-“ his words were cut short by Tav leaning in for another kiss, her movements intentional, tailored for his pleasure.

Gale let out a soft grunt as her fingers wrapped around his rock hard shaft, it’d been well over a year since he’d felt the touch of a woman and he could barely keep himself together as her hand began to slowly pump up and down. “Fuck” he moaned, pulling the sheets aside to reveal his entire body, smiling up at Tav who let out a delighted gasp at the sight. “I want you, Tav. I want to see you, touch you, feel you. I have done for weeks” he stifled between breaths, toying with the tied straps of her nightgown to expose her nude form. His cock tensed at the sight of her, the way her body curved in all the right places and the revelation that she wasn’t wearing any underwear. She moved her hand away from his body slowly, but instead of climbing on top of it, she put his cock into her mouth and circled the tip with her tongue, lapping up the precum like nectar. Through soft moans, he pleaded for her to fuck him; it was music to her ears. But she wasn’t done yet. She wanted to watch him struggle to hold himself together for a while longer. After all, she was nothing if not a perfectionist and the way her mouth moved around him had him struggling for air, eyes rolling back, hands grasping at the sheets next to him. Just when she thought he was reaching his limit, she licked up his length and stopped.

“What’s that? You want to lose yourself inside of me?” She enquired innocently, looking up at him doe eyed. “Yes. Please, fucking hells, yes” he grunted, grabbing her by the throat and pulling her in for a desperate, sloppy kiss as she lowered herself onto his member, straddling him with ease, resulting in sounds of pure ecstasy as she slowly worked her hips to take more and more of him in. The feeling was unparalleled, the way he twitched and thrusted into her was nothing short of flawless. Their bodies moved together in perfect synchronicity, creating a harmony of moans and muttered “fuck”s. They didn’t even think about where they were or who could hear them at this point, this had been building up for so long now and they could no longer deny themselves the pleasures the flesh and soul combining. The way they fucked was an art - no painter or sculptor could ever compete.

Gale, who was usually so composed, had transformed into a wild animal on the hunt. His body was glistening with sweat and his big brown eyes had shifted from their usual warm gaze to something much darker and sinful. He flipped Tav onto her back effortlessly and pinned her legs over her head as he thrusted deep inside of her, causing her to whine in pained bliss. She was wet, hot and shaking at this point, moaning freely without a care in the world as she took every inch with a smile on her face. Gale couldn’t remember the last time he’d experienced anything like this; perhaps he never had. He had never fucked anyone so recklessly or felt anything near as intensely. He had slept with a goddess before, but Tav made him feel like a God.

Tav never expected him to be like this in bed, so primal and hungry. Miles away from the perfect gentleman she’d pinned him as. For a moment, she was worried he would rip her in half with the sheer size of his cock, it was thick and much larger than she’d dreamt, and hurt like hell but was balanced with bliss. Suddenly the enchanted briefs made a lot of sense. He thrusted into her with skill and rhythm, whilst his hand circled softly over her clit as the other pinned her into position. It was transcendent. She let out a final moan before the pleasure pushed her over the edge, her walls clenching around him tightly. She looked like an angel, eyes flittering back, body jerking, sweat shining on her breasts. Feeling and seeing her finish on his cock was enough to make Gale release, pulsating a heavy warm load inside of her, feeling lightheaded in response to his overwhelming orgasm. Immediately, he leaned in for a kiss and pulled her into a cuddle, heart pounding and head racing at the realisation that they’d finally slept together after so much yearning.

A few moments passed in silence, both of them too stunned to speak until Gale finally broke “you have no idea how long I’ve wanted to do that”. Tav giggled in response before finding her words, “trust me, I understand”. They laid together for a while longer before getting dressed and deciding to face the rest of the camp, hoping to god that nobody overheard their activities.

However, they weren’t exactly careful or quiet, and Karlach refused to make eye contact when the pair left the tent. Shadowheart was the colour of red wine, “I, uh, sent Astarion to get the wood instead.”

“Thanks…” Gale stuttered.

[featherwurm]

I'm going to get a lot more personal on here than I usually do:

Baulder's Gate 3, and especially Karlach, make me feel seen in a way no price of media I've ever engaged with before has. It's a big reason why I love it and why it's sticking with me like it is. I too am a big, loud, enthusiastic woman who says out of pocket shit. I have a heavy internal dialogue with myself. I have a temper, I'm bisexual, I love cute shit. I endured years of being utterly touch starved. I love sex and food and being alive...

I also have cancer; it's Follicular B-Cell Lymphoma. I was diagnosed in 2020 when it had reached stage 3A. It's currently under control after chemo* and I'm living my life normally. But while it's a very treatable kind of cancer, it's not fully curable**. There's nothing in me they can remove (it's my whole lymphatic system that's broken) and no drug currently that can wholly knock it out. It's cause is not known (genetically or environmentally), and its unusual for this type of cancer to affect someone as young as I am (I was diagnosed at 35 - it's much more common 65+***). So every three months I go into oncology and they check my blood and symptoms and see if I'm doing ok. I get imaging and biopsies occasionally too. This will go on until I'm not ok (hopefully a long time yet). I'll have to have still manageable but more invasive treatment the next time around. It's a well researched kind of cancer, and my oncologist hopes that in the next decade there may be some more permanent cure for it.

So you can see where I'm going with this. When you hit Karlach's monologue after killing Gortash, I've never felt better understood. I have no one to blame for my condition, no revenge arc of course, but the very same fear, frustration, grief, and anger are all things my husband has heard from me. I've never seen a more beautiful and moving and real exploration of the topic that resonates with me so meaningfully out of a piece of fiction that I love. Béart's performance is amazing - capturing a whole spectrum of emotion.

Karlach's story is absolutely not incomplete as written, confirmed by both the devs and Sam Béart - a terminal condition is just that. You don't get to fix or save her, you get to go with her through tremendous trial and difficulty. If you want to continue that story in your mind that's great (I know I'm eager to do so, for my own personal encouragement if nothing else) but on it's own it's a whole story about coming to terms with something that doesn't have a quick and easy little fetch-quest resolution.

So - every time I see another whinging post/essay/bitchfest about how her story feels "unfinished" or "incomplete" or "has too much cut content" you can see why I might take it a bit personally - knowing that the life I have, the easy solutions I don't get, and the frustration and grief I live with is seen as incorrect and wrong and bad writing makes me a little pissed off. If you think the story is incomplete as told and think a 'third engine upgrade' is missing you completely missed the point.

Karlach doesn't get a simple easy ending because people like me**** don't get that either. And like my husband and the others who love me you can choose to follow that story anyway. And that's fucking beautiful.

*Yeah dealing with cancer and undergoing chemo during a pandemic was really a peach.

**XKCD hits the nail on the head here and here.

***Current treatments have good decade long prognoses... but saying 'you'll probably be fine for the next 10 years' is a lot different at 35 than it is at 65.

****And believe me I've heard from a lot of chronic/terminally ill folks who love the game for the way it represents these things and feel the same, with her Gale, and Shadowheart too.

[normal-thoughts-official]

Another interesting parallel between Wyll and Gale is that they have both lived quite some time without any fucking privacy.

I don't need to elaborate on Wyll because, you know, Mizora. But also, at the Stormshore Tabernacle, Gale says that Mystra is omniscient. This implies that throughout their entire relationship, she always knew what Gale was thinking - what he thought and felt about her, every time he lied to her, whenever he was upset with her, every less-than-amenable-to-her-wishes thought he ever had. It's enough to drive someone mad, when you think about it. How much did Gale fruitlessly police himself when it came to how he thought of Mystra, afraid that he would disappoint or anger her? How much did he beat himself up over his own thoughts and feelings, knowing he couldn't hide it from her? Did he ever fear that she would use any of his thoughts to hurt him, the way Mizora obviously does with Wyll? Do they bond over that?

And in turn, how would this affect their relationship? Wyll has never been in one before and has been quite starved for any intimacy for the longest time; all he had was Mizora fucking with him 24/7. This means that, functionally, he hasn't had any lasting ties to anyone who wasn't capable of reading his thoughts and knowing where he was at all times in the last 7 years. And god knows how long Gale's been with Mystra, as well

Do they subconsciously expect the other to know what they're thinking? If the other ever asks, do they automatically tense up, assuming it's some sort of test or that a punishment (for Wyll) or disappointment (for Gale) is coming? If the other says what they're feeling, do they register that as an order? Is it hard for them to remember to tell each other certain things, because they cannot in fact read minds, at least not after they lose the tadpoles? (That's another thing too, they HAVE been able to read each other's minds from the moment they first met).

I've always felt like communication issues would be the #1 problem in their relationship, because, as much as they're both quite direct and open about their feelings, they also feel the need to constantly put up a front and prove themself to their lover. But this adds a new layer to it - unintentionally keeping each other in the dark about certain things, really basic things, because they're unused to having to say them out loud. And potentially being upset that they have to say difficult things out loud, as if it's some exercise in humiliation, which it likely was with Mizora/Mystra. Potentially assuming the other did something they weren't okay with knowingly, because that was always the case before. Almost guaranteed to being so out of practice having to voice their feelings to be understood that they don't know where to begin, or what to say, and feel stupid over it.

Of course, it helps that the other is going through the exact same thing. I'm sure they can figure that one out, as soon as they can express everything I mentioned above.

But it does make for an interesting dynamic in their early days, and one of the many facets of their communication issues. Also one of the many ways in which they can heal together from their respective traumas, so different in nature yet so similar in effects over their psyches.

[hrpayo01]

Katniss' love for Peeta has taught her to understand and forgive her mother for emotionally abandoning them when her father died.

Katniss has always resented her mother for disappearing, leaving them to starve in her grief. And she has all the right to think, and feel that. She was eleven and selling baby clothes in the rain, about die of starvation. She was signing up for tessarae the minute she was qualified. She was hunting in the woods as a child. She was pushed into immense responsibility because her mother no longer had the will to live--despite her and Prim still being alive. She believed that relationship was severed and she saw her mom as weak, incompetent, and unloving.

But she became her mother when she was separated from Peeta. She, point blank, said she lost the will to live. Even if Prim was still there, and her mother, and Gale, and the country was relying on her to get them through a revolution.

She talked about how she never understood why people stay and watch their loved ones die on the table instead of going away...she did that with Peeta at the end of the first games.

She said that if she know for sure that Peeta was dead, she would just disappear in the woods and never look back. She was also willing to abandon them.

It's slowly sinking in but it was such and important detail how, after she saw Peeta return to district 12 in the last chapter, one of the first things she did was call her mother. Process her grief with someone else, made sure she wasn't alone. Because that's probably when it all clicked for her: Peeta came back, her father could not. She suffered like her mother, but not cometely like her mother.

She said the reason why she hasn't taken her own life back at 12 was because she was waiting for something. Peeta, like he always has, was giving her hope. Her mother did not have that. Nor did she have anyone to share that grief with. No family, no friends, and her children were too young.

When Peeta came back, Katniss realized that she just went through what her mom went through but with a better ending. She understood and felt what it was like to paralyzed with grief despite people relying on you... When Peeta came back, Katniss was ready to heal. Katniss was ready to forgive, not just her mother, but also herself.

[freaky-deaky-cookies]

Hi can I make a request I totally understand if you don’t want to write about this. I wasn’t sure if you take angst request like this so im sorry if I’ve sent this and you dont take requests like this. My request is for bg3 companions with a tav who is kind of a shell of a person. Like a demon could take their soul and they would fine with because they see no use for it. They just sort of go through life and are just waiting for their death. This is due to their tragic backstory that I won’t go into detail about but there is themes of repeated sa involved (you don’t have to mention this if you don’t feel comfortable) this request is based off of my oc which I hold very close to my heart and really just looking for some comfort right now. Like I said tho if this isn’t something you are comfortable with I completely understand.

BG3 Companions x Tav who is an empty shell (Comfort HCs)

Gale

Gale is a lot more perceptive than he appears to be

He notices the void of sadness behind Tav’s eyes

If Gale felt a genuine concern for Tav, he would ask to speak to them in private

When he approached them, he would not demand attention. Instead, he’d sit quietly beside them, offering only the weight of his presence. He wouldn’t try to fix them, but simply be there, sharing the silent knowledge that sometimes, just being was enough.

Wyll

Wyll would approach the situation quietly and calmly

He wants to ensure Tav knows that he – and the others – are a safe place for them to feel whatever they need to 

Offers a listening ear and only comments if asked

“I know what it feels like to think you’ve lost it all,” he’d begin, his gaze gentle. “But I want you to know something. You don’t have to carry this alone. You have people here who care. And that’s worth something, even when it feels like it isn’t.”

Astarion

He understands, he really and truly does

He himself has been there hell, he is still trying to dig his own way out of the void

Astarion was not a man accustomed to offering comfort. He was far more at ease with sharp words and cynical humor than with gentle reassurances. But with Tav, it was different. When he saw the emptiness in their eyes, he felt an instinct he couldn’t ignore—a tenderness that surprised him, even though he would never admit it aloud.

“You know," he’d start, his voice unusually soft, "you’re not as invisible as you think. I see you. I know what it feels like to be hollow—nothing left but the shell of a person. But you’re still here. Still standing. And that counts for something."

Lae’zel

Comfort is not her strong suit, like at all

While she may not take the most gentle approach, she respect Tav like no other and does not with to bring them any unwanted harm

She didn’t have the words to soothe the soul, but she had something she could give: strength. Her voice would be sharp, but it was clear she was trying to reach through to them, to remind them of the warrior they had the potential to be.

She wouldn’t coddle Tav, but her presence would be one of unwavering support.

Halsin

(I believe he would be the best to go to when faced with anything troubling)

His own heart breaks at the sight of someone he holds dear in so much pain

While Tav does not show it, he knows them well enough to see through that facade

“You are not beyond healing, Tav,” he’d say, his voice like the rustle of leaves in the wind. “It may not be quick, and it may not be easy, but you can grow from this. And I’ll be here to help you, however long it takes.”

Shadowheart

Shadowheart understood loss in a way that few could. Having sacrificed so much in the name of her faith, she had learned the deep ache of feeling lost and broken, even as she clung to hope. When she saw Tav, something in her recognized the emptiness—the hollow look in their eyes that mirrored the darkness she had once lived in.

Shadowheart would not push Tav to speak, but she would stay close.

Jaheira

Jaheira wouldn’t offer empty platitudes or tell them to ‘snap out of it.’ Instead, her words would be measured, rooted in the kind of wisdom that comes only with age and experience.

Jaheira wouldn’t rush toward Tav or overwhelm them with too many words. Instead, she’d give them space but remain near enough to show she was there, a steady presence in the quiet of the camp. Her approach would be measured, as she always was, and her tone would be gentle, but there would be no hiding the firmness of her resolve.

Mithara

When she saw Tav—someone who had already resigned themselves to the idea of being worthless, someone who had already given up on their own soul—it hit Minthara harder than she would admit. It was a reminder of the darkness she had lived in and the toll it took.

“I won’t pretend I have the answers. And I won’t ask you to simply believe in something when you don’t,” Minthara would say, her voice tinged with the knowledge of her own mistakes. “But I can tell you this: You don’t have to walk through it alone. If you want me to stay, I will. If you want silence, I can give you that too. I am here.”

She would stay by their side, offering her presence more than anything. It wasn’t a grand gesture, and it wasn’t about trying to force Tav to snap out of it or seek some grand redemption.

Karlach

"Hey," she’d say, sitting down beside Tav and offering her broad, calloused hand. "You’re not in this alone, alright? I’ve been to places where I didn’t think I’d make it through. But I did. And I don’t care how long it takes. You’re going to make it too. You don’t have to be alone in this. Not while I’m around."

Her words would be warm, her fire like a shield around them. She’d hold Tav’s hand and, even if they didn’t respond, she wouldn’t leave. Her presence was a quiet promise that they didn’t need to do this by themselves.

[amica-aenigmata-naboo]

Endlessly

Astarion x plus size! Y/N - drabble - 1.3K WC NSFW 18+

Masterlist

Warnings: insecurities, yelling, self deprecation, fluff on fluff on fluff, Astarion being a big sap, loveeeeee

Part 2

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

You and Astarion had been together for 8 bliss filled months. You knew you were in love with him the day he asked you to be his. Yet you never said it. He hadn’t said it either. Honestly, you were still amazed he was with you. You knew your size wasn’t perceived as conventionally attractive or desirable. It used to bother you, but you were quite comfortable in yourself now. Until it came to Astarion. It was like you were trying to hide any and all fat on your body when he was around. He had never made any negative remarks, quite the opposite actually. You just knew one day he would wake up and see through the honeyed fog of lust and find somebody who matched him. Somebody perfect, just like him. 

You watched as Karlach played in the stream, she had such a child-like wonder about her. It made you happy to just be in her presence. Shadowheart sat on the shore with you, meditating. Everyone else was back at camp. 

“Come on Y/N! Come play!” Karlach yelled, splashing a bit of water at you. 

You got up wading into the water up to your knees. Thankfully you wore shorts and a massively oversized top. You felt comfortable enough around everyone to be seen like this. You and Karlach flicked water at each other, finding rocks and shells to take back to camp. You talked about nothing and everything. Gale and Wyll made their way down, even Lae’zel. The weather was just too good to not enjoy your little beach. You didn’t see Astarion make his way down the hill. He walked up behind you, wrapping his arms around your waist. You lurched forwards, not used to touching as you were still nervous about it - especially when he touches your waist/stomach. Your foot slipped on the soft mud beneath you, you fell forwards. You caught yourself, avoiding any injury but you were soaked. Your clothes clung to you, your body on full display. You scrambled up, crossing your arms over your torso. You pushed past Astarion as he held a hand out to you. You rushed up the hill and to your tent, stripping your clothes off. 

“Darling? May I come in?” Astarion said from the front of your tent.

“Not right now Star.” You tried hard to hide the waiver in your voice, or the subtle sniffles you were letting out. You layered on clothes, wanting to hide within yourself somehow. 

“Love…” he said, barely peeking inside.

“I said not now! Please just go away…” you yelled, sounding harsher than you intended. You laid on your bedroll, curling into yourself. You cried until you fell asleep, the moment earlier exhausting and overwhelming you. 

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

Astarion backed away from your tent. He had never heard you yell before, much less at him. He racked his brain, not exactly sure what he did wrong. It clicked after a moment, he touched you. You two had never established boundaries verbally but you knew he was ok with touching. You, however, were only ok with light touches that didn’t really invade your person. Holding hands, a kiss, caressing your face - all things he had done before that you seemed to be happy with. But today, perhaps he had overstepped. When he saw you and your radiant smile, so full of joy to just exist in the moment looking for shells and splashing about with Karlach. He acted on instinct, without even properly thinking it through. He felt positively wretched. Out of everyone he understood most how awful it is to have physical boundaries crossed, and he crossed yours. He walked to his tent glumly. He would seek you out later, right now he wanted to give you the space you deserved. 

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

You woke up later. The crickets outside chirped and you could hear the campfire crackling. You rubbed your eyes. A blanket had been thrown over you, a note was folded up on your table. You got up and snatched it. “Find me when you wake - A” You sighed, closing your eyes. The way you yelled at him echoed in your mind. You were flustered, you hadn’t meant for it to sound so mean. You peeled off your coat, feeling hot and constricted in all the layers you had piled on. You left your tent in a sweater and pants. You felt less anxious than you had earlier, knowing your campmates didn’t care what you looked like. All you cared about was that Astarion had touched your stomach, the spot you were most insecure about. You couldn’t act like it wasn’t there anymore, you had to face him. You willed back your misty eyes, preparing for the worst. You softly called his name outside of his tent, waiting for him to call you in. He did, and he looked just as nervous as you felt. Your stomach dropped but you tried not to show it.

You sat rather far from him, wanting to have space between you both. “I’m sorry I yelled at you.” you spoke first.

“I’m not worried about that darling… I am worried about the fact that I hurt you.” he spoke softly but you could hear the guilt in his tone.

You looked at him, confusion dripping from your face. “I wasn’t thinking… and I know that isn’t an excuse, but I’m sorry I crossed your boundary. It won't happen again… that being said, we need to have a talk.”

Your blood ran cold, a cold sweat covering your back. This was it. You nodded stoically, convincing yourself not to cry. 

“I would like to know where you are comfortable with me touching you. I, personally, am comfortable with you touching me wherever, whenever.” he smiled at you gently, a simple twitch up the corners of his mouth.

Well… this is not where you thought the conversation was going. “I…” you tried to collect your thoughts, “I do like your touch. I want you to know that. I love it, in fact. What happened earlier wasn’t anything to do with you, I just…” you paused, unsure if you should even tell him. 

He looked at you with his big pleading eyes, you had to tell him or this wall would intrude upon your relationship.

“I am insecure about my… size… my weight. I know you have had many diviner conquests, and you yourself are a vision… I just… I don’t know… I don’t want to disappoint y-” you were cut off by his lips melding into yours. They were soft but you could feel a fire behind them. 

“Respectfully, darling, shut up.” he kissed you again, deeply. As if trying to convey a multitude of feelings at once. “You are perfect. And you are not a conquest, you are the one I…” he paused, his eyes flicking between yours before he spoke again. “You are the one I love. And I love all of you.”

You were shocked, you were sure you felt everything about your relationship deeper than he did. And yet, here he was saying he loves you. “I love you… I’m so sorry about this whole thing.” you scooted closer to him, reaching for his hand. 

“Don’t be sorry. I understand insecurities, nasty little thoughts that cannibalize you from within.” he cupped your cheek, “You have nothing to worry about. You are perfect, I love everything about you.” 

He sounded so sincere you couldn’t help but tear up. “Can we… work on expanding my boundaries? I want to touch you, and have you touch me… I just need some time to get comfortable. Get out of my head, ya know?” you asked, picking at your nails. You hadn’t talked about intimacy with anyone else before, not like this. 

“Of course little love… we’ll go at your pace. Honestly, I’m excited to do this with you.” he smiled, his fangs making an appearance. “I love you, endlessly.” he said as he kissed your cheeks before landing on your lips. The kiss was sweet, almost like it was sealing a promise.

“I love you, endlessly.” you spoke on his lips before connecting your mouths once again.

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

Naboo's Note:

Hello! I hope everyone enjoys, I haven't seen too many plus size reader inserts with Astarion so here is my shot at it. As a plus size person I think this kind of representation is important and very validating. Post again soon, love you guys!! Thanks for all the likes, comments, reblogs, and requests!! XOXOXOXO

[trappedinafantasy37]

I have never understood this whole notion that the companions don't take Durge seriously when they talk about their urges. it's not that they don't take Durge seriously, I just don't think they comprehend just how bad it is for Durge.

Shadowheart acknowledges that everyone has these thoughts and everyone seems to indulge in them. But you and the others have a conscious. She truly believes that you have the ability to fight them because she has faith that you do have a conscious.

Gale interprets it as if it just ordinary anger, something that everyone has from time to time. But, he also stresses that thoughts like that should remain only as thoughts because he knows that they should not be acted on.

Lae'zel says that there is nothing wrong with enjoying a little bit of murder, as long as there is a purpose to it and isn't done too often and without restraint.

Wyll also sees it as anger, but feels that that anger is justified considering what everyone has been through the past few days. However, he sees no issue with the problem, as long as it is directed to those who deserve it (like your enemies).

Karlach immediately applauds you for admitting your problem and suggests that you can either change, or also direct your urges out on those who deserve t.

Halsin perceives your situation as any other illness, but one that you may not be able to rid yourself from. He advises you to engage in mindfullness and self control.

None of these come off as people who aren't taking Durge seriously, but merely people who do not comprehend that the urge is pathological. Astarion, Minthara, and Jaheira are the only ones that truly know and understand just how bad it is for Durge from the get go.

Astarion will actually approach Durge if he notices the symptoms as he himself knows what it's like to be feral and driven by impulses he cannot control. All the companions (except Minthara) will tell Durge to resist the urges but Astarion is by far the most convincing because he has literally been in Durges place. He truly and fully understands what it means to have another force compel you to do things you don't want to do.

Minthara has personally witnessed people driven by darker urges both in Menzoberranzan and by being the plaything of Orin. When Durge confesses to her, she will admit that she fears that Durge is like those that even Lolth would destroy for the greater good (and Lolth has no concept of greater good, that's how serious it is). She admires the power of the slayer, but she believes it to be a power that should be controlled. If the slayer cannot control themselves, then she will destroy it.

Jaheira clocks Durge as Bhaalspawn not too long after joining camp. Considering that she has personally traveled with Bhaalspawn in her past, she literally does know better than anyone how deep things go for Durge. She has witnessed it herself, many times.

When Durge reveals to everyone about being Bhaalspawn, they are all surprised (except Minthara and Jaheira) because they are forced to recognize that these aren't fleeting thoughts, but the core nature of Durge. They are forced to recognize for the first time that these are persistent thoughts that Durge has to resist every single damn day. They are forced to acknowledge that if not for the incredible restrain, Durge would have killed them all.

[brotherwtf]

I'm thinking about Paulina. How the casting director thought to get an actress who has similar features to Gale. I'm 100% Bucky was thinking about Gale the whole time they were having sex. Probably cried out his name when he came and Paulina just silently took it because she was also just looking for some solence and company for the night. She didn't judge him just understood him and tried to make him understand why he needs to fight the war. And then the next morning he finds a reason to, Buck got shot down just like Paulina's husband so now he understands her too

nah that whole like 20 minutes is such fucking crazy work because WHAT THE FUCK IS WRONG WITH EVERYONE

the cuts are just insane because they're like "who's gonna tell Egan" and then they cut to him in a bed ALONE, reaching out for someone who isn't there after he just slept with a girl who looked exactly like his best friend, asking for her to stay and she just says "I know you'll understand" when she talks about her husband who was a pilot, WHAT THE FUCK DO YOU MEAN HE'LL UNDERSTAND MY BROTHER IN CHRIST DOES HE HAVE A PILOT HES DESPERATELY MISSING RN???

but oh man anon I think you're a genius, he saw Paulina and couldn't help but compare her to a man he could never have, drank with her and danced with her and thought it was someone else in his arms instead, someone he wishes he could kiss and touch but he's so out of reach, both physically and metaphysically, and he's so down bad desperate that he has to fuck someone who looks like him just so he can get his kicks

but I definitely love the idea of him closing his eyes, gritting his teeth and imagining it's Gale beneath him, moaning quietly and holding onto his arms and back with strong arms, lips against his ear as he fucks into him, but it's not quite enough, Paulina is soft and beautiful curves while John knows Gale is sharp lines with a perfectly toned body, tries to imagine what it would be like to hold his waist and bite his neck, but even when Paulina urges John to open his eyes and look at her all he can see is Gale, both of their faces flitting in and out of focus like he's not sure who he's sleeping with

he catches glimpses of blond hair and blue eyes and soft pink lips and all he can think of is Gale, Gale, his best friend who he had fallen stupidly in love with, and he wonders if Paulina sees someone else too, because he certainly doesn't see her

and when he comes he cries on Gale's name, "fuck... Gale..." because that's all he can think about, wishes it was him below him instead of Paulina, and then he feels so instantly horrible because he probably ruined what was supposed to be a distraction for Paulina, but she only gives him a knowing smile, kisses his cheek and calls him a sweet man, tells him she misses someone too, we all have our vices in life and Johns left thinking about what he's going to tell Gale when he gets back to base, maybe he'll finally man up and tell him how he feels before one of them inevitably goes down, and he's worked up the courage to march right up to Gale and tell him before it's too late

but what John doesn't realize is that it's already too late, "He went down swinging" and John can feel his stomach violently turn, his throat close and his eyes water because it's too late... it was too late and he'll never see Gale again, he only has the faint fantasy of taking Gale to bed with him when it was really some dame, and now he's gone and John will never be able to tell Gale how he really feels, oh man oh dear

yeah but I wanna sit the fucking casting directors down because what the fuck they said "hmmm, let's make the girl Major Egan sleeps with a carbon copy of his boy best friend that he can't seem to get off of his mind" shaking my fist in the air mota writers one day you will pay of all of my anguish

[tee-dohrnii]

Hey!! I’d love to see Thalia and Gale being domestic, if you don’t mind!! Your art is GORGEOUS.

I’d also love to learn more about Thalia’s backstory or any Gale headcannons you had!

I hope this counts as being domestic I just can't resist a good nap time moment :') and I also wanted to just do doodles but I got carried away and started coloring 😭 coloring has never been my strong suit so I hope this is fine

And uaaa thank you for thinking my art is gorgeous!!! I'm honestly really glad to see people are enjoying my silly doodles here thank you!!

--- vv Thalia backstory blurb vv ---

In terms of backstory, honestly I haven't been able to flesh it out much yet! I also don't know much about dnd lore (I really wish I did) so anything I say here may not be consistent with lore :'D

However, what I have so far is Thalia used to be Thalia Adkrana, daughter of a noble family from a powerful bloodline of storm sorcerers. Despite being the 4th born child out of 5 children, since birth she's shown to be more blessed with magic than anyone in her family, powerful storms raging around her constantly when she was younger and destroying anything around her, causing trouble for her family. As she grew older, she may have logically understood how it is to keep her lightning under control, but whenever she gets very emotional her magic tends to lash out in response to her reactions. Growing up privileged and powerful, she also developed a bit of a superiority complex and an awful temper when things don't go her way, so not really a good combo when her magic gets unstable when she's upset.

Because of this, her family preferred keeping her within their property as much as possible to avoid dealing with her and to avoid troubling others, especially when one wrong outburst from her could ruin their family reputation. Growing up isolated from world didn't really help her grow and mature properly either, and her temper tantrums got worse and worse the longer she was kept in there and the more her family seemed to just give up on her. The only one she could really confide in and find comfort in was her younger brother.

Everything really changed when one day she decided to speak up against her family and demanding they let her leave the house, let her come with them to one of their social gatherings. Hells, she's been trapped in their property for so many years at this point she wants to engage with people, even peasants at this point because she'd rather deal with them than look at the same suffocating decor for even another second. Voices and tempers rising, she grew more and more frustrated as her parents kept shutting down every argument she could come up with, and the more the storms around her grew the more she proved that her parents were right for keeping her in. Angry at them, angry at herself, thunder roared and the lightning sparks dancing around her gathered into huge bolts of lightning, surging out of her in rage as if her magic itself was screaming out for her if her words and her voice couldn't reach her family. She knew they had every good reason to not let her out, knowing her own lack of control over her own emotions - but maybe if they trusted her just once, guided her, saw her as someone in desperate need of help instead of a stain on their family name, maybe things could've been different.

But that's not how we got to this point. A loud thud of a body falling flat on the ground snapped her out of her state and right beside them lay one of their servants, dead at her feet, and as if the panic she was feeling couldn't get any worse, just close by she saw her younger brother lying on the floor, badly hurt and crying out from pain. Immediately her parents, older siblings, and anyone who heard them nearby rushed to her little brother and the poor servant, doing their best to take care of the situation and Thalia stood there silent, watching her world fall apart in front of her eyes.

The order to banish her from their home came soon after, no longer Thalia Adkrana but simply Thalia, removing her status and all the benefits that name gave. Since she so desperately wanted to go out and see the world, now the world is all she'll have and no home to return to.

Kinda really awful timing when shortly after she started her new unwanted life as an adventurer, she got picked up by a nautiloid and had a tadpole squirming its way behind her eye.

And also shortly after meeting poor souls who shared the same unfortunate tadpole situation she was facing, it's no wonder Thalia fell so hard for a certain wizard who showed her in one night how beautiful, intimate, and warm magic could be as it enveloped her whole being like a gentle embrace - that her power and her emotions were something she could learn to channel and not be afraid of, a perspective her family failed to teach her for years. And even if at times she still found herself electrocuting the waters they stood on in her anger or excitement and hurting them, or maybe her temper would get the best of her again and she would unconsciously lash out at them before she could even realize she was yelling, after every argument or petty insults thrown at each other, they would still watch out for one another and care for each other and soon after they'd be sitting around a campfire laughing and enjoying each other's company.

It's no wonder once she's found a family she truly belonged in and felt safe in that her true nature finally bloomed after being suppressed for so long - a kind, lonely girl who loved being around people and helping them in all the ways she wished she could've helped her younger self ages ago, never letting anyone get left behind and given up on like she was back then.

Although being out of touch from reality for many years did create a lot of very awkward moments when interacting with people during the beginning of their journey, she did learn very fast how best to compose herself in public - best she could when the ones teaching her are also a couple of social outcasts but hey it's fine.

---

Whew! That's a lot actually. Idek if any of that makes sense I'm not going to proofread all that :') I also don't really have any Gale headcanons I do really enjoy reading other people's headcanons about him though!

I hope this answer is sufficient ^_^

[shan-yee]

✰𝗖𝗹𝗮𝗻𝗱𝗲𝘀𝘁𝗶𝗻𝗲 𝗿𝗲𝗹𝗮𝘁𝗶𝗼𝗻𝘀𝗵𝗶𝗽✰

Benny Cross x fem!reader ๏𝚆𝚘𝚛𝚍𝚜 = 1815 ๏𝚆𝚊𝚛𝚗𝚒𝚗𝚐𝚜 = Alussion to cheating, reader being the other woman, reader wears perfume. ๏𝚂𝚞𝚖𝚖𝚊𝚛𝚢 = Sometimes it’s better not to know everything, Kathy is sure of it. ๏𝙰/𝙽 = I had to finish a Gale x reader but Benny stole my heart 😔 Careful, the summary can be tricky. Ho and English’s not my first language so i don’t know how to do a Midwest accent- if you see a mistake don’t hesitate to tell me !

—Kathy, can you tell me about Benny and [Y/N] ? Danny asked the young woman, his microphone extended towards her.

—Well, she stopped for a moment, ya know, I immediately understood that something was happening between them.

A summer friday evening in 1964

It had been two days since Benny and Kathy had meet and, after some talking, the blond had finally decided to take her with him to a meeting where she would meet everyone officially. Uncomfortable at first, the brunette ended up accepting, never being able to resist the captivating gaze of her “boyfriend” ? for long.

Kathy wasn't really sure about what they were to each other, Benny had shown interest in her but hadn't made much effort to give any real meaning to their relationship. They had known each other for two days but she was already crazy about him.

Their arrival in the bar immediately made heads turn and glasses were raised with enthusiasm, Benny received pats on the back while some bikers decided to whistle at Kathy who seemed more than uncomfortable, It was, after all, only the second time that she had found herself in such an environment, so it was quite understandable, as she had been raised in a straight and square mold.

She let herself be led by the blond beside her to a round table where several people were seated, including two women. Seeing them arrive, the one who appeared to be the youngest looked up with a big smile, and for a moment, Kathy had the impression of disappearing in the eyes of this stranger, she did not seem to have noticed her at all, her gaze fixated on the biker.

—Benny-Ben ! She exclaimed, leaning back against the back of her chair.

Then, her bubble, where only Benny seemed to have a place, burst and she finally noticed the brunette on his arm. Her eyes widened before an amused smile took its place again on her lips, Kathy would never admit it but a wave of pride overwhelmed her, this expression of surprise meant that Benny was not used to bring girls, right ?

—And...? [Y/N] finally asked.

The blond didn't even give the young woman a chance to respond, saying her first name in a quick sentence that introduced her as a close friend. A friend ? Was that really all she was ?

—Kathy? The [H/C] haired woman seemed to test her name before nodding, satisfied. I like it, welcome to the club Kat’ !

Kathy had turned a questioning look towards Benny, they had just met and were already using nicknames ? Surely Benny would notice the young woman's discomfort right ? But no, the biker had simply sat down next to the young stranger before motioning her to sit down too.

The rest of the evening was bitter for Kathy. Benny didn't really seem to be particularly interested in her, preferring to listen to his friends and adding a comment or two here and there. But at the same time, she didn't really know what she expected, she wasn't part of the same universe as him and his companions....

The only moment of the evening when he deigned smiling at her was when he brought back two beers and a soda. He placed the glass of soda in front of her before uncapping the two beers and handing one to—she had learned her name during a conversation between her and Johnny—[Y/N]. Their eyes had met and, while taking a sip of their drinks, they continued to stare at each other, as if there was no one around them, as if Kathy wasn’t there.

Later, after they got home, Kathy didn't hesitate to get it off of her chest, telling him about what she hadn’t like and Benny ended up apologizing although the young woman had the impression that he wasn't particularly sorry but anyway, she could never understand what he was thinking.

It took several days for the non-biker to agree to return to a meeting after this evening, which was instructive to say the least.

—And two weeks later, we were married ! The storyteller chuckled, showing her ring with a slight movement of her hand.

Danny looked perplexed and narrowed his eyes, for him, this little story was much too short and insignificant for Kathy to suspect that something had happened between Benny and [Y/N], right ? Then, in a teasing tone he asked.

—That’s not all that happened ?

Kathy chuckled before shaking her head from side to side, while putting away the tableware in the stove drawers.

—Of course not ! A ring on your finger is nothing to these people, and I don’t mean that meanly, in fact I quite liked [Y/N] even though it was clear that my relationship with Benny didn't make her happy, she never showed "her claws". Most of these women are always like “my man”, “my man” but not her and Betty, and Gail.

She leaned her hip against the counter, arms crossed under her chest as she looked at Danny.

—Well, she would surely have been like the others if she wasn’t fucking some men here and there.

Danny blinked before crossing his arms as well and letting out a little cry of surprise—he had definitely missed a lot of things—stepping out of his role as a journalist.

—Really !?

—Yeah, oh, i have a story ‘bout that.

The student grabbed his microphone again and held it out towards the matriarch of the house, suddenly very interested.

Early fall 1964

—I have a date tonight ! [Y/N] whispered to Kathy, one arm over her shoulders as she made sure no one could hear them.

Kathy raised her eyebrows interestedly before looking around them, a good part of the Vendals had gathered in the club of the first meeting of Kathy and Benny to celebrate their first month of marriage, well it was mostly an excuse to drink.

There was several other wives and girlfriends of the members but she still came to talk to her about it, even though they weren't particularly close.

—Sorry, but, why are you tellin’ me ‘bout that ?

—‘Cause I can’t trust the other girls. Every time I tell them I have a date they end up telling Brucie who will tell Johnny who will tell Benny and I end up getting an hour long lesson on what I have the right or not to do and blablabla. But I need to talk to someone about it ! So you’re my last resort.

—Ah. Well i hadn’t seen that coming.

[Y/N] chuckled happily, bringing her beer to the tip of her lips before taking a generous gulp. Then, she patted the brunette on the back before giving her her drink.

—Now that I've emptied my bag, I'm going to go, enjoy your evening !!

And just like that, the young woman was gone. Kathy quickly joined Benny and the others at the pool table, having already put aside the discussion she had just had with her not-so-friend.

The rest of the evening was happy and full of good humor, but Benny and Kathy decided to spend some time together and went out to sit on a bench at the back of the bar, a soda for Kathy and a beer for the blond.

With the tip of his thumb he caressed the young woman's right thigh over her high-waisted black pants while staring into space.

—So, what did you talk about with the others ? He ended up asking curiously, having seen most of the women gathering at the bar to chat discreetly.

—Women stuff. Amanda told us about a young girl in her neighborhood getting pregnant, Gail about her little arguments with Brucie and Betty about the girls' exploits.

—I see, and [Y/N] ?

Kathy seemed to think for a moment, then opened her mouth and closed it before finally sighing a « nothing important », which perplexed Benny. The young woman was far from being tongue-tied and at the end of the evening she had the habit of telling all the gossip she had gathered to her husband who listened in silence.

But right now, she seemed to hesitate and had not elaborated, which directly alerted the blond. He knew very well that [Y/N] was the type to do things in secret because she knew that Benny disapproved, but she always ended up telling him to see his reaction.

—Kathy.

It only took the hoarse growl of the young man's voice to dissuade the young bride from lying.

—She…had a date.

Benny didn't say anything else, just took a sip of his beer before getting up and walking back into the bar towards the motorcycles parked near the entrance. Kathy didn't understand anything, calling his name as she followed him, dodging the drunken bodies of the other bikers. He didn't look angry, his face calm, but at the same time, something seemed different compared to his usual posture.

He didn't even take the time to take one last look at the brunette before starting his Harley and speeding off under Kathy's wide gaze, had he really just left her alone with no way to get back to their house ?

She remained stunned for a moment, before Gail came out of the bar having heard the motorcycle start and saw Kathy chasing Benny. After hearing the young woman's explanations Gail did not even seem surprised, however, Kathy was his wife, how could she be the only one stunned by his gesture when she was his one and only !?

Cal had ended up dropping the brunette off at her place, taken pity by Kathy's eyes filled with confusion, she had not cried, yet the desire had taken hold of her, but, by entering this path of life she promised herself not to regret this decision, so she was going to keep her promise.

She never knew what happened that night but the next day Benny came home with bruised fists and a scratched cheek, as if a wild animal had scratched him with its paw, he hadn't even apologized, just placed a affectionate kiss on her cheek. And that's when she smelled it.

This very familiar perfume, this subtle scent of orange blossoms and neroli followed by a honeyed nuance obtained by the essence of orange blossoms. The smell filled her throat and nose, she would recognize this smell anywhere, at the same time, how could you not recognize a perfume at 220 dollars for 50ml, « Narcisse Noir », known to be a sensual marvel.

The first thing she did after getting dressed was to wash the blond's clothes, until that unbearable smell disappeared for good.

Kathy and [Y/N] never spoke of it again, a silent pact made in a single look, and perhaps, deep down, it was for the best, Kathy’s best.

[blixabargelds]

snowing already- a superstar christmas

set one year into superstar's main story timeline.

tags: rimming, anal fingering, blowjobs, substance abuse/ addiction, fluff (?!), mild angst.

word count: 4.3k

The first time Gale remembers seeing snow he was seven. 

His mom had taken him on a road trip. She had called it a road trip. She’d told Gale they were going to stay with a friend for a little while. It had struck him as strange- that he’d never met this friend before, and now he was sleeping on her couch, wearing her son’s winter clothes, but he hadn’t asked about it. She was easy to be friends with, his mom. She was Gale’s best friend. 

He’d understood, later, that his mom’s friend was a friend of a friend. That his dad didn’t know about their road trip. But his dad wasn’t around, and Gale’s mom was happy, so he was happy, too. They’d woken up some day near his birthday, both of them on this huge, worn couch, in a part of the city he’d never been to, and snow was stacked thick against the outside of the windows. Nobody knew where they were. They had their own, entirely blank universe. He’d run outside in his socks and soaked them straight through. Had hurdled back into the house with sopping feet, jostling his mom awake, and begged her to come make a snow angel with him. She’d told him to take the socks off, voice hushed and clipped and angry in a way she rarely got, telling Gale they didn’t have any spare clothes, that he was getting the carpet wet and cold, that they needed to make a good impression because they didn’t want to cut their road trip short. His lip bled from biting down against its wobbling. 

She’d smiled at him guiltily that afternoon. Kissing the top of his head, she took off her combat boots and put them on him, and took him to the garden to make a snowman. Her hand steady near his shoulders to keep him from toppling over; her hair dyed blue that month, bare toes the same colour in minutes. 

Gale doesn’t like Christmas. He knows John doesn’t much like it, either. But where John’s kept his thoughts on planning Gale’s ‘surprise’ birthday party, Gale’s been growing steadily frozen. The heater in their apartment is on the fritz again. He’s finding it harder and harder to feel the effects of the coke. He wakes up chilly, pulling the drawstring of his sweats tighter again, and the threat of festivities looms over him. More often than not, these days, he’s on the edge of a comedown. He leans over, squinting at the alarm clock. It’s 10am. He hasn’t been awake this early for weeks, save for nights he hasn’t slept at all, and he almost thinks twice before picking up the little bag on his nightstand. There’s just about enough coke left in it to rack up a few substantial lines. He fumbles for the waiting bill, re-rolls it, snorts one chalky trail in practiced silence. 

The motions of his morning routine wake John all the same. His hand snakes across Gale’s waist and pulls him back under the covers, tugging him on his side to face him. Sleepy, pink-cheeked, curls in disarray, a furrow pulling his brows as he blinks himself aware. He brushes the space between Gale’s nose and lips with his thumb. Puts that thumb between his own teeth and licks it.

“Snowin’ already?” he says, with an uneasy kind of smile. Gale sniffs, hiding his face in the pillows, but John just coaxes him back out, tucking his long hair behind his accessible ear. “’S’it early?”

Gale hesitates. “’Bout ten.”

John looks pensive for a moment, frown deepening. “Think we oughtta keep this shit ’til after midday?”

Gale gnaws on his dry lips. They’re already tingling, his head buzzing and fingers restless, and he doesn’t feel particularly happy. “Think it’s Christmas,” he says. 

John glances at his phone with a grimace. “Shit. Sure is.”

Gale swallows. John watches him, like he’s trying to predict the day on the way Gale’s mouth twitches, twists on a sentence and stalls.

“At Marge’s,” he starts to say, for no real reason at all, “they- we used to do the whole thing. Turkey an’ a tree. Had a fireplace goin’ all day.”

John nods slowly. Gale can see his expression tearing, knit together by patience, and an effort to fight some great uninvited feeling. “You wanna do the- whole thing?” 

Gale knows the answer he’s hoping for. Luckily, it’s the one he’s got. He shakes his head. “No. I didn’t know what to do. Sounds damn ungrateful, but I didn’t want a- a mini DVD player or a pair of boots. Said thank you and smiled, and all, of course. But why would I need new boots if mine ain’t got holes in yet. Were my boots- were they offensive? Or-” he clears his throat. The cocaine’s agitating him more than lifting him, like it has been lately. John’s right. It’s a little too early. “Just wanted the day to be over.”  

John nods again. Gale can tell he’s making him tense. Knows without asking that he is being ungrateful. That no matter how bad his holidays have been, John’s had worse. John’s never been gifted a mini DVD player. 

“Shit, Bucky, ’m sorry. Complaining ’bout nothing like some- think my teeth are too fast.” 

“Hey, Buck, no,” John says. When Gale looks at him, he’s looking back with nothing but understanding, eyes bright and kind, and Gale feels vaguely nauseous at his hasty assumption; that John would be comparing hurts at all. “Was just gonna ask what you would’ve wanted, is all.”

Gale’s cheeks warm with some unpinnable flush of shame. He says quietly, “books, I guess. Never asked for anythin’, though.”

John’s twirling Gale’s hair around his finger, now. Gale’s playing with the hem of his t-shirt, needing to touch something solid before his heart beats out of his palms. “And have some old perv come up your chimney? Better off without, really.”

Gale laughs. It bursts out of him feather-light, a shock to his system. He hadn’t noticed his chest growing so heavy. “Didn’t have a chimney, Bucky. ’N I’m pretty sure he’s meant to come down it.”

“Tomayto, tomahto,” John shrugs. 

Gale smiles, but it’s forced. He’s hollow. Hungry for something he can’t figure out; itching for more sleep, or more blow. He slides further down in the bed, pulling the covers up to his ears, hoping to stay there for the rest of the day. John shuffles down with him. He drags the sheets over their heads entirely, caging them in with a cotton shield, and Gale knows he’s telling him that he can stay there, if he wants. That he’ll stay with him, too. He moves into Gale’s space with a series of rustles, close enough their noses touch. 

“If it helps,” John whispers against his mouth, “I didn’t get you anythin’.” 

Gale huffs out a short laugh. “Didn’t get you anything, either.” 

John closes the minuscule gap between them, kissing Gale soft and deep. His fingers slide under Gale’s shirt, tracing the peaks and divots of his ribs and spine, tickling gently until he’s truly smiling at John’s teeth. 

“Can give you a present, if you want one,” John says, pulling back just enough to press his lips to Gale’s jaw.

“Mm.” John’s touch is falling lower, pushing Gale’s sweatpants down to his knees. Gale kicks them the rest of the way off. “Maybe.”

“Just one thing,” John carries on, his breath warm, tongue flicking out to lick lightly at Gale’s throat. 

Gale hums. Grabs John’s ass, drags him so their hips are flush, sighing at the contact, tugging at John’s boxers. “Yeah, Bucky?”

“You gotta sit on my lap and tell me what a good kid you’ve been.”

Gale can’t stop the snort that happens before he can turn it into a groan. He shoves at John’s chest. “Jesus, Bucky.”

“Don’t say the birthday boy’s name in vain,” John chastises. He crowds back in, sets his lips to Gale’s overworked pulse point, whispers there, “or you’ll be on my naughty list.”

“Christ,” Gale laughs, swatting at John’s chest. 

“There you go again,” John says. “Askin’ for a proper lesson, now.”

“Thought this was a present?” 

Gale’s hair is sticking static to the sheets as John tents them with his body, expanding their private world by leaning up and over him. Hands either side of Gale’s shoulders, he digs his fingers underneath. Rolls him onto his front and rucks up his shirt, exposing his back for kissing down. He sinks his teeth into the soft flesh at Gale’s side. Gale groans.

“S’pose you can decide that.”

John makes his way back up, pressing his lips to the squirming line of Gale’s spine, and for the first time in a while the attention doesn’t make him cringe. He knows he looks a little wan. That he’s getting a little thin. He’s told himself he’ll get back into shape. Back into regular sleep and regular meals; after this bag, after the next. 

John licks at his lower back, and Gale settles face-down. He thinks John’s about to spit on his fingers, open him up and fuck him from behind, but John spits directly onto his tailbone instead. Gale feels it slide down, and John spreads Gale open with both hands, tonguing his own spit inside his hole. Gale’s brain misfires. He jolts in surprise. Gasps, as John licks around the tight seal of muscle. Lapping at him with gentle pressure, not quite slipping inside, breath warm on sensitive skin. John’s hands are kneading his asscheeks absently, gentle thumbs pulling him apart.

“Bucky,” Gale says, head still catching up, the strained plea of John’s name muffled by sheets and wet with drool. “What-”

John just hums against him. Gale keeps expecting him to sit back at any moment, to slick himself up and slide his cock into him like so many mornings, only he doesn’t. John stays there. He licks a long stripe all the way from Gale’s taint to the last notch of his spine. Hovers there, breath a tickle, a tease, a quiet little laugh, before moving back down to tongue messily at Gale’s hole. Gale moans stupidly loud. John’s hands are still prying him open, baring each inch of wetted skin and making him feel exposed in a way he hasn’t since John first tied his wrists behind his back. Gale grinds his hips down into the sheets. His shirt’s sticking to him with sweat. His cock’s sticking to the bed with precum, every part of him hot and dizzy. He’s gasping in unsure little chirrups, each swipe of John’s tongue a new experience, each damp flick at the rim of him sending a chain reaction up his spinal cord. He’s still barely taunting him. Gale’s watched John’s tongue dart out between his lips on stage, spit clinging in clear thread from his teeth to the microphone. Seen the way he presses the flat of it to the grill, throws a wink at Gale, unaware, or perhaps only conceptually aware, of people in the crowd fawning, too. John’s a menace with his tongue. Gale makes a shocked, strangled noise as he proves this- fucking into him fully. 

“God- hell, Bucky,” Gale groans, fingers tight in the sheets beside him.

John doesn’t relent. He lets go of one of Gale’s asscheeks, using his hand instead to curl around his hip bone, pulling him further down onto his mouth. Gale’s cock is so wet at the tip he half thinks he’s come already, until John shifts his other hand, presses a fingertip to Gale’s rim alongside his tongue, and Gale bites down on the pillow so hard he tastes polyester foam. He makes a feral sort of sound into the cotton. Thrusts onto the mattress and back down onto John’s tongue, stuck between the two, rutting like a dog, panting like one. John withdraws just enough to lap at Gale’s relaxed, spasming hole as he slips his finger inside him. The sensation of John eating him out, licking at his insides, was fresh and overwhelming, but Gale’s near convulsing immediately with the length and precision of his movements, now. He gets another finger inside him with ease, lips never moving from the ring of muscle, and Gale thinks he might be sobbing. He can barely breathe. Ragged, wet gasps eaten by the sheets, and he realises, in only vague horror, that the reason he hasn’t hurtled over the edge already is because of his chemical fucking breakfast. John brushes his prostate with the pad of his pointer finger, and Gale laughs in sheer delirium. Sweat’s pooling at the base of his spine. John smiles, Gale feels it against him, and lifts his head just to lick at the perspiration. Gale wishes he could turn around only to see how wet John’s moustache is. He can’t move an inch beyond his trembling. 

“You okay?” John says at the small of his back, soft and somewhat smug. He punctuates his question with a crook of his fingers. Gale’s cock leaks more precum into the bed.

“’M close,” he manages to gasp.

“Uh-huh,” John says, and Gale groans at the toying tone of his voice.

John dips his head again, but doesn’t move any closer. Gale spreads his legs wider without thinking. His breath catches in his throat as John fucks his fingers in and out. Slowly, each drag out and press back in felt down to the nerve, no lube but John’s drying spit making it sting just enough to ground him. John’s still just there. Just far enough away from his own fingers, from where they’re disappearing into Gale, that Gale realises he’s watching intently. Creating a show for himself: Gale’s shaking back, spit slick between his cheeks, John’s fingers dipping, pulling, crooking, being swallowed. The scrutiny makes him whine. Makes his face flush as he presses it hot into the crook of his elbow. John angles his next press just so, and Gale jumps, fucking himself down onto the bed with a pitiful whimper. John does it again, and Gale’s just about to strike up a fuss when he sets his mouth back to him. He doesn’t pull his fingers out, but pulls them apart, spreading Gale’s hole as far as it will comfortably go and then some, spitting then slipping his tongue between them. Gale moans again, choked-off, and his next sound is closer to something begging. His face is wet. John takes one finger out just so he can fully fit his tongue back inside him, and his head is white noise as John finds his prostate. Circles it, rubbing and pressing, tongue aimless and nothing but further wet heat stuffing him full. Gale’s humping the bed desperately, not entirely sure which way is up, the drag of the sheets against his dripping cock no mercy as he pushes himself away from John’s ministrations and back down. John makes a moan of his own against Gale’s body, and Gale comes rocking back onto John and forward onto the bed like he’s wild, hardly a sound scraping from his throat with the last of his desperate lung capacity. John’s fingers and mouth stay at his hole until he’s shedding fresh tears.

Gale goes boneless and brainless when John’s touch leaves. He’s stroking his spine when Gale comes back to himself, fingertips tacky with sweat, catching on each vertebrae. There must be a bruise on the hill of one, because John settles there, pressing down on something tender just slightly, the rise and fall of each breath drawing that aching touch closer, bringing the ringing in Gale’s ears down to a low throb. John bends and brushes his hair out of the way, kissing the nape of his neck. 

“You good?” he says. His lips are at Gale’s ear, wet. 

Gale makes a contented sound into the sheets. Clears his throat and shifts slowly, curling his legs up to his chest and tugging his loose shirt back down around himself. He rolls onto his side and looks up at John. Smiles, half-buzzed and on the cusp of laughing again. John’s face is open and pale in the light. Gale reaches up to touch the glistening spit on his chin, hand shaking a little. 

“Liked my present,” he says.

John’s the one who laughs, then. Grabs Gale’s wrist and kisses his pulse, flips him onto his back and kisses the underside of his jaw, nipping at the lobe of his ear. Says, words shredded by his beaming, “You loved it. You fuckin’ loved it, you noisy fuckin’ treasure.”

“John-” Gale tries to bat him away, futile under the strength of John’s precious joy. 

“I fuckin’ love you,” John says. 

“I love you, Jesus, Bucky, get off I’m disgusting,” Gale’s breathless, wrestling John far enough away to peel himself from the damp sheets. 

He leans down and kisses John’s face. His lips, slips his tongue into the overworked heat of his mouth and smiles into it. With a lingering grin and shaking legs, Gale stumbles into their bathroom to change. He fucks around with the heater some more. It’s still flashing some awful pressure warning, so he groans, strips, towels off the worst of the cum from his stomach, tugs on yesterday’s sweatpants left on the bathroom floor. He grabs a clean enough t-shirt from the edge of the bath and turns back into their bedroom.

An idea occurs to him as he’s looking for a matching sock. Something’s buried in their chest of drawers. Something that shouldn’t have been buried at all. He roots around until he finds it; the small, angular shape tucked inside an old glove. He grabs it, tipping the contents into his hand. 

“Bucky,” he says. John’s tugging on his own shirt and pants, pushing damp hair back from his forehead, glowing. Gale bites the inside of his cheek. “Y’can have this. I mean, I want you to. I want you to have it. For Christmas.”

John frowns at him. He hesitates, stretching out his hand, and into his open palm Gale drops the necklace. It’s a star. Silver, a little smaller than a dime, one of its points shorter than the others. John blinks down at it, turning it over slowly. 

“Chain’s a bit delicate,” Gale says. His chest feels tight, throat dry. “Was Mom’s. But I’m sure you can get another, it’ll- it’ll fit another.”

John looks up at him with wide eyes. “Buck.”

Gale yearns, suddenly, for another line. He’s not sure why. “She wore it nearly every day. Gave it to me to hold onto when she thought- when Dad had sold everythin’ else. Never really knew what to do with it. Felt wrong to just wear it, but it should be worn by someone. Someone who-” he takes a breath in through his nose. Making a meal out it; chewing on his words, he concludes, “it’s special. Y’know?” 

“Buck,” John says again quietly. His eyes are still fixed on the pendant, brows drawn tight. He shakes his head slightly. He looks almost pained, and Gale wonders, for a moment, if he’s stepped on some hidden land-mine he had no prior knowledge of. John takes a breath. “It should be on someone special.”

Gale exhales roughly. Torn somewhere between relief and an aching sadness. He shrugs, like it’s easy, like it’s simple. “It is. Here-”

He crosses the distance from the doorway to their bed, climbing up onto it and situating himself behind John. There’s a faint pull to his shoulders. Maybe the tiniest tremble. Gale takes the necklace gently from his hands, fastening it around John’s neck before pressing a kiss to the clasp. 

“Suits you,” he says lightly, without turning John around to face him. 

Gale stays like that for a minute. He can feel John’s heart beat steadily through his back, Gale’s running a faster rhythm still. He’s waiting for the tension to leave through John’s lungs. For him to sag a little under his touch, let him lean into the line of his body and drape himself over him like a shroud, not like something boneless over glass. He wants to tell John that a gift is not a weight; it isn’t something to be earned or something he has to fulfil, but Gale knows that would only strengthen that wall. Eventually John just rolls his shoulders, letting out a shaky breath. He leans back awkwardly, dislodging Gale in the process of kissing his temple.

“Goin’ for a smoke,” he says. A tight smile.

Gale nods and falls back to the mattress. There’s a flash of white as John twitches their blinds open, just enough to climb out onto the fire escape. Smoke begins to drift in with the cold air. Gale curses under his breath, flopping over to his side of the bed and doing another line. 10:40am isn’t so bad. He feels it buzz beneath his eyelids as he counts the racing beats of his heart. 

“You comin’?” John calls from outside. It startles him. Gale sits, rubbing a hand over his face. He pulls on his boots, the closest hoodie, tugging the hood up and zipping it to his throat. “You’re really gonna want a smoke, Buck.”

“Alright, ’m comin’,” Gale says. He snatches a cigarette from John’s pack and dips out onto the fire escape.

It’s snowing. 

John’s backed up against the railings, grinning around his cigarette, as fat white flakes of snow fall fast into his hair, sticking to his clothes and his lashes in a thick, glittering film. “Merry fuckin’ Christmas, huh?”

“Jesus,” Gale breathes. “There’s so much of it.”

“Most of a blizzard,” John says, shaking his head hard enough to send snowflakes spiralling off his hair, drifting into Gale’s face until he’s blinded. 

Gale splutters, wiping snow from his eyes, tilting his head up to the sky. The whiteness of it is all-encompassing. He can’t see the tops of buildings, the clouds, the middle distance. There’s a sprig of holly hanging loose and dead from the fire escape above. Ice creeping off the end of it in suspended free-fall . He closes his eyes. Feels his cheeks rapidly freeze, moisture sticking to his lashes and landing on his parted lips. Without thinking, childish and impulsive, he sticks his tongue out and catches the snowflakes to taste. When he looks back at John he’s looking at him, thoughtful, the tip of his nose red, smiling a small kind of private smile. His fingers, a gentle shiver to them, are playing absently with the pendant around his neck. 

“It’s beautiful, Gale,” he says seriously. “I mean it. It’s the most beautiful thing.” 

Gale’s heart thuds. He looks out at the snowfall around them. “Yeah. Merry Christmas, Bucky.”

John’s chewing on his lip, the way he does in those rare moments Gale knows he wants to say something, but can’t quite reach the right words. He looks a little unsteady. Gale takes the front of his sweater in his hands, wet cigarettes knocked loose and forgotten, fast buried in fresh snow. He pulls John close and casts his eyes up above them. To that rotting, discarded sprig of holly. 

“Close enough, right?” he says. 

John quirks an eyebrow. Smirking, pulling on that thread of raw softness inside Gale that takes an age, or a kiss, to unspool. “To what, hm, Buck?”

Gale rolls his eyes and presses their lips together. It’s wet and cold, running noses and smoke, and when Gale’s had enough of John’s tongue against his he drops to his knees. His sweats soak straight through. He thinks, with some level of amusement, that numb knees might help here. His lips are losing sensation, too; ice cold and humming with cocaine. He tests that sensation, dragging his mouth against the metal zip of John’s fly, flattening his tongue at the denim already stiffening in the air, against the shape of John’s cock. 

John’s hands are in his hair already, when he says, “Get up, baby, you’ll freeze.” Gale shakes his head, slipping his fingers into John’s waistband, eliciting a small gasp and a breathless giggle. “Buck, I’m not tryin’ to lose my dick out here.” 

Gale looks up at him, and the laughter is shimmering on the breeze as it goes. “You won’t.”

“When d’you get so- Jesus-” John chokes off as Gale gets his chilly fingers around his cock, pulling him out of his pants and directly into his warm mouth. “Out in the fuckin’ open-”

Gale swallows his response. No one is seeing them through the drift, tucked inside their apartments, warm and sensible. Gale’s half-brave streak of bold exhibitionism is blanketed in white. John’s hot on his tongue; hard already, as Gale takes him down deep. He keeps him there, using his hands to work what won’t fit, preventing John from exposure to the frigid air as much as possible. Gale finds his slit and licks at it. Finds the full vein on the underside of John’s cock and runs his tongue along it. Takes him further down his throat, gently aching and relaxed, until his eyes are watering, tears cooling on his cheeks and wind-whipped sleet chapping his stretched lips in record time. John’s fingers dig into the back of Gale’s head. Gale moans around the size of him. 

“Buck,” John says. Gale can hardly hear him. “Jesus, Buck-” John groans loud into the open air. 

Gale keeps his pace, pulling back far enough to taste John’s arousal; falling forward to take him so deep he can’t taste much of anything at all. John’s clenching fingers pull at his dampened hair. He’s begun to move his hips a little, and Gale makes no move to steady him as John bullies further down his throat, taking it and flexing his muscles around him. The sounds John’s making grow louder, bolder, bordering on a dare for the world to hear them. The world won’t. Each gasping hitch of breath, each honeyed deep moan; they’re muffled by the dense, steady fall of snow. 

[aboxofcereales]

Currently trying to collect all the information about our companies’ life before the events of Baldur’s Gate 3. Mainly, about their family and age. Any suggestions/editing will be very much welcome.

Huge thanks to everyone who aiding the cause in comments and reblogs.

Last update - 10 April 2024.

Wyll Ravengard: is about 24, has left the city when he was 17, in origin introduction states that he’s been exiled for 7 years. According to Idle Champions of the Forgotten Realms, he's in fact 24 & Neutral Good. Apparently his dad, Grand Duke Ulder Ravengard, raised him by himself, Wyll’s mother, Francesca, passed away in childbirth, when Wyll was born, as stated by Ulder’s longsword description, Wyll mentions her during a romance scene in Act 3, also calls himself “a single son to a single father”. According to Murder in Baldur's Gate: Ravenguard has never married and has no interest in domestic matters, moreover the said sword description calls Wyll's mother Ulder's love, not wife, which makes me think that Wyll was born out of wedlock. Supposed to have 3 uncles. I’ve seen a note about Wyll diving to see a mermaid as kid, written by his dad, in the high security vault. Florrick seen him grow up, had a crush on Stelmane as a kid, also during his childhood enjoined fishing with his dad, but sucked at it. Also, Ravengard's Scourger states that "Duke Ravengard's father was the sort of man who works with his hands, and communicates in grunts. In his heart his son vowed to do better. But when Wyll was born, Ravengard felt a strange gravity that drew him away from his son.", that strange gravity might be Francesca's death in childbirth(?). Generally, I strongly advise to take him around the city in act 3, as he tells plenty stories of his boyhood.

Gale Dekarios: still not sure if there any information about how old he might be, but I estimated around mid-to-late 30s, though it doesn’t really sit well with him meeting Mystra as a kid (btw there’s an absolutely wonderful post on this topic by @lairofsentinel, check it out), still I’d like Gale to be on the older side, alternatively, he may be around 28-30 due Mystra's return year. Personal headcanon - he's 37. According to Idle Champions of the Forgotten Realms, he's 35 & True Neutral. He casted his first spell as a babe - a score of rabbits in the panty. Apparently lives separately from his parents in his tower, at least as kid had them both (mentioned when he first tells about his friend-tressym, Tara), thou in his origin (at least as much as heard and played myself but @vitanithepure confirmed it) only his mother gets mentions, the state of the other parent is unknown. Has a very tender relationship with her, but didn’t inform her about the orbe for her own safety, her name may be Morena (godsblessdataminers), Mrs Dekarios really wants him to find someone to settle down with. Also, Tara hates his beard.

Shadowheart (Jenevelle Hallowleaf): is about 50, comments that Viconia documented about 40 years worth of her life at the hands of Shar, in the same note she writes that Shadowheart was able to keep her heart true to her child self, and was hard learning Shar lessons. As I understood when she was kidnapped, she was about 10-13, kidnapping was directly by the Shar command.According to Idle Champions of the Forgotten Realms, she' 48 & Lawful Neutral. Personal headcanon - she's 51. After her abduction made friends with tiefling named Nocturne (they might have be more than friends?), had a pet mouse for sometime called Nibbles. There’s a grafiti somewhere behind Jaheira house which she has drawn. Shares a questionable taste of romance literature with Wyll and his father. Her parents’ fate, Emmeline and Arnell Hallowleaf: is up to you decisions. Her mother mentions that they wanted Jen to have siblings.

Karlach Cliffgate: early 30s I think, the way she speaks about Gortash makes me thinks she was practically a teenager when she started working for him and spend 10 year serving Zariel. Personal headcanon - she's 29. According to Idle Champions of the Forgotten Realms, she's 30 & Chaotic Good. Her parents, Pluck and Caerlack, she moved them from Outer City to a nicer place. Her mom died due to fewer when she was a teen, dad a couple years later due to road accident. Both died before she met Gortash. Her mom seems to be behind her love for Minsc, Jaheira etc. You can meet her friend near Baldur’s statue.

Lae’zel of K’liir: seems to be barely 20. Githianky reach adulthood in their late teen, and as Lae’zel was yet to present a mindlflaer’s head, I think she’s the youngest in the party. According to Idle Champions of the Forgotten Realms, she's exactly 22 & Lawful Evil. Personal headcanon - she's in fact 20. She hates owls due to their necks, Karlach agrees.

Astarion Ancunin: according to translation of his grave he only lived for 40 years before becoming spawn, spend 200 year as such. Safe guess - there's definitely smt wrong with his grave stone or/and translation as it messes the current year - from 220 to 250. According to Idle Champions of the Forgotten Realms, he's 263, which doesnt seem right, & Neutral Evil. According the artbook he was a corrupted magistrate, which seem to be true atleast to pre-release version.

Halsin is 350, his family is from the High Forest, thou they are all gone. Spend 3 years captured by drow, loves honey and curving ducks. Jahiera is about 150-160, as she was a child in 1347. Has atleat five foster children: half-elf Rion, half-orc druid Jord, three humans - Jhessem, Fig, and Tate. Minsc was a statue from 1409 to 1480s.

[ipostdumbthings]

Romantic Headcanons for Bard Reader with BG3 Companions

Astarion

Well, won’t you be the easy target? What could be easier to seduce than a bard? Honestly, he probably could just wait for you to try to seduce him first. Too easy. At least that’s how he thinks about it at first.

It’s not hard to choose you to seduce, of course, not only are you capable and competent, you also provide a little taste of civilization and creature comforts in the way of making camping more pleasant. Your music and aesthetic skills are the sort of luxuries Astarion loves to indulge in whenever he can.

In some ways he’s a little more guarded with his feelings around you, at least to start with. Bards have a reputation, and he finds your company just so pleasurable, that he realizes how easy it may be for him to slip. So until he is forced to confide in you, you’ll find he defaults to flowery praise of your talents as a tactic to avoid having any meaningful discussions.

When he does have to actually let you in, the thing he feared, being connected meaningfully with you proves to be almost immediate. After all, he just enjoys you so much. You’re fun. When you accept him for all the struggles, he finds himself vulnerable in a way that he may actually enjoy. He quickly becomes more willing to have these conversations with you.

While playing your music in camp, you’ll often spot him just watching you with the most lovely smile on his face.

Shadowheart

Shadowheart distrusts you, well, she trusts you initially because she has no choice, but she’s aware you have expert skills in deception. Something she herself trades heavily in, and that being the case, she knows she has to be careful taking you at your word. She does respect you for it though, she respects a well executed lie more than anyone.

Actions help her trust you, but honestly what really does it is being on the same side of the deceptions. She often finds herself fancying you as a partner in crime of sorts, you two having the same interests and needs has made you someone she can count on.

She doesn’t seem interested in your music at first, in fact, she’s often hanging in her tent while you are playing for everyone else. She can hear it from there, and does very much enjoy it. Just privately.

Once you two are on the path to romance together, though, you’ll find she’s the first to ask you to start playing. It’s one of the rare things that gets her happily interacting with the rest of the team.

She’ll tease you for it, but she does genuinely love the songs you write for her. Especially if they’re dark and mysterious sounding, it makes her feel understood and flattered. But to reiterate, she won’t actually tell you that. You’ll just have to realize it from the look on her face as you perform for her.

Gale

Gale finds himself smitten by you quite quickly, as a matter of fact. He’s a verbose man, and there’s few skills outside of magic that he respects as much as verbal cleverness.

So he quickly seeks you out during the evenings at camp for stimulating dialogue. You’ll likely have to endure quite a bit of him prattling endlessly about his passions, but if you engage with him on those subjects enthusiastically, he falls hard.

He may come off condescending about your magic at first, he kind of is, but the more he hears of your experiences the more impressed he is with what it is to you. For you magic is your art, it’s an expression of passion, skill, and freedom. He finds that so very charming.

He’s a bit shy at first sharing his poetry with you, more so than he’d be with others. Afterall, you’re sort of an expert on such matters. In the same breath, your approval of his work carries so much more weight. You’ll never see his chest puff out with so much pride as you do when you tell him you like one of his poems.

The next several he writes are all about you.

Lae’zel

Lae’zel finds you frivolous at first, and why would she not? She’s carving through the enemy with blades while you play an instrument.

It doesn’t take her long to figure out just how talented and useful in fights you are though. Be you casting a quick spell to patch up an ally, or rendering your opponents weak with a well delivered insult.

In fact your devastating burns are the thing she may find most appealing about you. You can do with a few well chosen words what others have to do with weapons. That’s a skill she doesn’t take lightly.

It’s this that causes her to reassess all your talents she’d deemed worthless to begin with. The way your fingers pluck at a lute speak to a dexterity and an expert level of skill. While she may not appreciate music the way others do, she often finds herself watching you play with admiration for your well honed craft.

She’ll tell you as much when she’s trying to entice you into sex, she’s always quick to highlight your talents as proof of your worthiness.

Wyll

Before there’s even the hint of feelings caught on either side, Wyll makes it known he’s very much a fan of your work. And that means the music, the magic, the skills, all of it. You’re a person that has a solution to almost every problem, and that’s something truly special about you. You’ll get no bard jokes from him.

He finds himself quickly picturing adventures with you. Imagine the tales of a bard and the Blade of the Frontiers! It’s just so easy to see a future with you where the two of you ride off into the sunset, righting wrongs and saving the day.

He actually finds himself nervous of your response when Mizora turns him, wondering if that could jeopardize that wonderful future with you. Your acceptance of his new form means more than anyone else’s. 

In fact he feels similarly about the dancing, a bard's disapproval of his skills would cut so much deeper than anyone else’s. You are worth the risk though.

Karlach

Finally, someone to actually perform the music for her dances. She adores you the second you first catch her dancing and immediately pull out your instrument for her. It even encourages her to test out new dances to see what songs you supply in response to them.

You are her fun, you are the lightness and the joy that she so desperately thrives on while dealing with such horrific circumstances. In that way, you’re her safety from the misery. 

Whenever you two are connecting and discussing those horrific things, she always asks you to play a nice song when she’s ready to move on from the subject. When you do, the softness in her eyes make her affection for you all the more obvious.

She’s very defensive of your instruments, she won’t let anyone in camp touch them when you aren’t around. She’s sweet about it. But firm.

Her favorite moments in camp are when everyone’s around the campfire while you play your music and laughs are easy. Those will be the moments she turns to when she handles her most trying moments.

Halsin

Halsin makes it clear very quickly how highly he thinks of your musical abilities, especially since it’s something he lacks. He’s quick to thank you for songs you play, and he always stops what he’s doing to listen and enjoy your music.

In fact, he finds the most beautiful and romantic moments between the two of you to be when you take your instrument for nature walks. He loves to find a place to sit and enjoy nature, as well as your talents. He could honestly do that for hours, especially if you’re cuddled up beside him while playing.

He’s just as impressed by your charm and magical talents. He loves watching your games of verbal chess in situations, and is honestly just so impressed with how much you can accomplish with your wit alone.

He’s probably the one that first most respects and values what bards are truly capable of, and he considers you a fine tribute to the profession. He has fewer preconceived notions about bards and their antics, and as such you find it easy to simply be yourself around him.

[ghost-proofbaby]

DO YOU WANNA BE FRIENDS? (a barista!eddie x barista!reader au)

summary: eddie really hates being on bar. Especially during morning rush. When you not only notice his impending breakdown, but do something about it, he realizes that the two of you might be capable of being more than just coworkers.

warnings: ONE use of "y/n", fem!reader (use of she/her pronouns), description of being overstimulated/extremely anxious

wc: 4.5k

a/n: shoutout to all the friends that let me make them fellow victims of the siren <3 also thank you to everyone who showed love the first one shot! i didn't expect that at all so it means the world. hopefully with this part, it makes more sense what i meant by little slices of life! the masterlist will always have the individual one shots listed chronologically.

the full menu

Bar was Eddie’s own personal Hell when he first started. It was chaotic, it was fast paced, and it was simply too much to deal with first thing in the morning (especially on the sparse few hours of sleep he functioned off of). 

He was much better put to use on DTO. Taking orders, stalling perfectly so that whoever was on food could get a jump start, cracking plenty of jokes all while still always perfectly reciting back the customer’s drinks. He thrived on DTO. Even when he would be assigned to “one-manning” drive, which simply meant he handled both taking orders and handing them out the window, he was clearly one of the best.

Nicole knew this. Meg knew this. All the shifts knew this — except the newest shift, Gale, apparently.

Because this morning, a major fuck up had occurred. 

Gale was going over his floor plan for the peak rush, explaining who would be in which position, and Eddie knew something was up the moment you shot him a concerned look from across the room. Initially, it was actually funny, the way your eyes so quickly found his and your nose scrunched microscopically. But by the time Gale had made his rounds to Eddie, he understood that the reaction you’d given him the privilege to witness had not been just something cute – it had been a siren going off from across the store, your attempt to forewarn him of the impending chaos and doom. 

Since that first opening, Eddie has been lucky. Just as he had hoped for, that morning wasn’t the last time he saw you. In fact, he sees so much of you on a weekly basis, he’s sure the Universe is playing a sick joke. It was bound to happen; there’s only so many people who are willingly to be openers (for obvious reasons), and you were one of those brave soldiers. He took Nicole’s advice to heart, he decided to let you slip into pace beside him on the front lines, and he’d been reaping the benefits. 

You’re kind, you’re funny, you make the time pass. You make Eddie feel like the two of you might be friends, or at least could be. And it wasn’t the fake kind of niceties that some of the other baristas would extend only from the moment they clocked in to the moment they clocked out. Your sweetness towards him lasted long past being on the clock. In the parking lot in the early mornings, in the lobby after your shift as the two of you solicited just to get a few more jokes in with Nicole. You’d wait for him and walk out to his car with him. You learned how he likes his coffee, and sometimes made him his preferred drink amidst your opening tasks, only handing it over with a smile and charming, “Drink up, Munson. You’re gonna need it to keep up with me today.” 

God, he fucking liked you. 

A month of openings all tallied up to this moment now, in which you’d just opened him up to the possibility of private, silent conversations in a crowded room. He’d never been on the receiving end of that before. Usually, he was the outsider as glances in a secret language were exchanged. 

Not anymore. Not now that you had your sights set on him. 

“Hey, Eddie,” Gale approaches him slowly, a friendly enough smile on his face. He’d transferred here from another store a few weeks ago, “So, game plan for today’s peak.”

The words lay it on me are on the tip of Eddie’s tongue, but they stick to the roof of his mouth instead. He wasn’t that quick on his toes with most people at work. Half the time, he’s lucky he’s managed any banter with you. 

Blandly, Gale explains how Marissa will be on cafe bar. “And then, I’m going to put myself over on front and warming, try to keep myself flexible for you guys. I’ll have you, Y/N, and Ash run drive today.” 

Eddie pales a little, and just as your eyes had immediately sought out his, he’s looking right over Gale’s shoulder to find you peeking out from around the corner, already in position. “Yeah?” 

“Yeah!” Gale is oblivious to Eddie’s nerves, “I’ll have you bar, she’ll be your DTO. It’ll be great, you guys are going to kill it.” 

The only thing dying will be our drive times. 

Gale leaves with a quick, encouraging smack to Eddie’s shoulder, telling him to go ahead and head over to the small nook that’s designated for the drive thru as he ‘splits the bars’ – changing the system so that tickets for cafe and mobile orders will expel out from the printer that sits atop the bar facing the front of the store, while any drive thru orders print on the bar hidden there. 

Eddie is in his own personal Hell. Actually, he’s in his own worst conundrum. 

On one hand, he’s thrilled to be able to spend the day in this corner with you. Plenty of times, Nicole will assign you to bar and Eddie to take orders or greet customers on the window, and it’s wonderful. Forced proximity due to the set up of the store, easy conversation during lulls, and abundance of inside jokes shouted between customers. He loves it. But he only loves it because he’s not the one busting out those drinks, already starting on the next iced caramel macchiato as the customer at the speaker box has hardly finished announcing it as their drink of choice. He loves seeing you in your element; you’re quick, fast and always on your own rhythm that keeps those damn drive times that corporate care about so much under a minute. Eddie could never do that – he could never average thirty second wait times, especially when so many customers order so many drinks. 

Today is not his ideal situation. He will be the one trying to juggle all those drinks, trying to find a pace that works for both him and the customers and fucking corporate. 

“You good?” you whisper the moment he steps up around the corner and up to the bar, turning and facing you. Your mirror images of one another – both of you have your lower backs pressed to sticky counters, leaning with arms crossed and already looking defeated before the rush has even begun. 

“I’m gonna fuck it all up,” he blurts out quietly, the girl who will be on window - Ashleigh, Ash for short – not quite joining you two in the corner yet. “Our times are going to suck so badly.” 

If it were anyone else, he would have just shrugged the question off. He would have smiled politely. But it’s you, still bleeding sunshine even after being back from vacation for a full month, and still offering him a reassuring smile even as his pessimism hangs around the space like a dark cloud. 

“Fuck the times,” you immediately say, and he laughs a little, eyes widening in shock at how serious you look right now, “You know what? I think our store has been doing a little too good. I’ve always wanted to see if we could get it up to a five minute window time. Are you down to test my theory today?” 

He can’t help but fully throw his head back at that, smile wide, no laughter audibly escaping him but he can feel it fizzing in his chest. He used to hate that, especially during his first shift with you – the way you could seemingly make him feel so much better about this entire situation. Now he’s just grateful. If he has to stand on the deck of a sinking ship on this terrible Tuesday morning, he’s so glad he’s going down with you. 

It’s the worst moment for Ash to appear between the two of you, looking wildly confused as she asks, “Did you just say five minute window times?” 

You throw your head back, and the laugh that leaves you is the prettiest sound Eddie has ever heard. The fizzling chuckles in his chest burst, and Ash only looks at the two of you as if you were certifiably insane. 

Oh, yeah. He’s very glad that this is the ship he will go down in. 

—

Famous last words. Not even an hour into peak, Eddie is biting down on every positive thought you had fooled him into entertaining. His jaw aches with both stress and regret as his knuckles sting from burning himself again with the steam wand. Honestly, he thinks he burnt himself less his first time on warming, and he still has a scar on his pinky from those damned ovens. 

“We’re just waiting on a-” Ash starts to say to him when she turns and lets the window close, effectively sealing them off from the customer. 

“A grande hot americano, I know,” Eddie cuts her off. He didn’t mean to snap, but his irritation is getting the better of him. An impending meltdown is already crawling beneath his skin due to overstimulation and stress. 

Yeah, he really hates bar. 

When the newest green bean meekly adds on, “With cream and two sugar,” Eddie prepares himself to scream into oblivion. 

Until you interfere. 

He’s just taken his first breath, shallow and vapid as he glares at Ash, when one of your hands comes down on his shoulder, the other carefully slipping the cup that only needs to have hot water added to it from  his grasp and into yours. 

“I can finish this off for you,” you sweetly insist, leaning forward so that your face fills the minimal space between him and Ash, “That okay?”

Something flashes in your eyes. It isn’t the same look any of your other coworkers send him when he’s falling behind, when he feels like he’s drowning in this position. It doesn’t feel as though you’re insisting on finishing the drink out of impatience, a desperate last call to speed Eddie along like some sort of machine, but instead as though you’re genuinely trying to help him. 

And your hand. It’s still on his shoulder, curling carefully as he finally can feel the way your thumb is sweeping back and forth over his shoulder blade. Such a soothing motion, it nearly makes him cry. Between your thumb and hand, your gentle eyes, your sweet perfume that cuts through the nauseating smell of coffee – all of it makes him just want to throw in the towel, step off the bar, and let you hug him while he’s a giant crybaby. He knows you’re the only one here who wouldn’t judge him. He’s witnessed first hand several other coworkers do almost exactly that, as a matter of fact. 

He was still secretly jealous of your coworker Sam and the day that she’d been on the verge of her own breakdown, still had the image of the way you’d softened when you caught sight of her genuine tears and just pulled her into your arms. 

He swears he isn’t down bad as some of the kids would call it. He wasn’t special – everyone wanted hugs from you. 

“That’s fine,” he answers after far too many precious seconds have slipped away between you two, the customer at the window momentarily forgotten. His voice is thick with emotion and he has to blink several times just to eat away at that impending breakdown once more. 

Just make it another few hours. Another few hours, and you can scream and cry all you want in the van. You can lose your damn mind if you so please, if you make it another few hours.

He has to remind himself of this over and over as he lets you finish off that fucking americano, and he takes a few consecutive stickers of nothing but frappucinos. He doesn’t even know the time, but it might be better that way. 

He doesn’t even realize the way you’re still watching him so carefully, and so full of concern. 

Suddenly, though, your voice sounds over the headsets — this time, without a car at the speaker box. You’ve clicked for the private channel, meant just for communication between any of the baristas wearing a headset.

“Hey, Gale?” you sweetly say. 

Eddie finishes the drink he’s working on with shaking hands.

Gale takes several seconds until he finally answers you from where he is in the back, “What’s up?”

“Can we switch up the floor a little bit?” Eddie’s stomach twists immediately, the burn of betrayal causing his shoulders to tense without facing you. Cool. Great. She noticed. She’s doing something about it. She’s about to throw me under the bus. Whatever. “I’m getting tired of DTO, starting to kind of stutter and I can’t hear the customers clearly anymore because my brain is melted.” 

That he didn’t expect. It’s subtle, and a little white lie. You hadn’t been stuttering. Any mishearings were laughed off easily. You were constantly buying Eddie more time to get a head start on the drinks.

You weren’t requesting a switch for your sake.

Gale sighs over the channel, mumbling your name before saying, “It’s the middle of peak, we can’t-“

“What if me and Eddie just switch?” he finally turns to face you at your suggestion. You’re not quite looking at him with pity, but understanding. You’d been there before — overwhelmed and panicked on bar, left out to sea without anyone to throw you an anchor. And you could recognize an anxiety attack from a mile away. “The customers always like him better anyways. And he has better suggestions for drinks-“ 

You’re blatantly lying. You knew Eddie was more comfortable on DTO. You knew he could handle that, even on his bad days. He almost gives in to his urge to hug you out of sheer relief.

“I- Fine. Yeah, that’s fine.” 

Once Gale agrees, you’re instantly logging out of your partner number and sweeping your arm out dramatically for Eddie to take your place at the order screen with a small smile. He moves forward slowly, finally feeling like he can breathe as you walk up to the bar. 

You didn’t need a break from DTO. You’d thrown yourself under the bus to offer him some relief. 

Wordlessly, the two of you transition into your new positions, and it immediately becomes obvious that it was more ideal. You barrel through drinks all while wearing a smile, and although Eddie stays a bit reserved in his interactions with customers as his anxiety settles, he still shows off all his strong suits. Stalling customers with idle chat, lying about checking to see if something was in stock so you could pull extra shots, repeating back drinks multiple times to make sure you heard it correctly. 

It’s seamless. The times that corporate cares about dwindle down to better match the day’s goal, and Eddie’s chest finally loosens. 

You didn’t have to do that. Anyone else wouldn’t have done that.

When the rush has finally passed, both you and Eddie finally in the final stretch of an hour until your shifts end, he finds the nerve to bring it up.

You’re wiping down counters, humming under your breath, when he clears his throat awkwardly, “Uh, thank you. For earlier.” 

“Why are you thanking me?” you ask nonchalantly, shrugging as you stop pretending to be busy, “I really was tired of DTO-“ 

“No, you weren’t,” he stops you from defending your lie, “You… you’re amazing at DTO. Better than me by a landslide.” 

Your entire expression softens from that constant joy and constant reassurance. But the glow of your kindness doesn’t erase with the relaxing of your cheeks. If anything, it simmers and only reaches Eddie even more potently.

You relay your next words with careful consideration, “I’m really not, Eddie. It’s not a competition. I.. do enjoy DTO, but you were stressed. And Gale wasn’t about to change his floor without someone saying something.” 

“If it had been anyone else, they would have told me to suck it up,” he points out.

“But it wasn’t anyone else. It was me, and I don’t think any of us should have to spend our shifts suffering.” 

You leave off a very important detail that you aren’t quite ready for Eddie to be privy to yet — if it had been anyone else, you wouldn’t have caved so quickly. You actually probably also would have told anyone else to suck it up, albeit still in a light-hearted and encouraging tone. You would have offered extra help, you would have tried to make jokes to ease the anxiety, but you wouldn’t have just thrown yourself under the bus. 

And yet, when it comes to him, you find yourself going soft. Any affirmativeness that you use during your training, that you usually persist with having with new hires, has melted. 

You hated seeing him so stressed. 

“You know,” Eddie’s nervous to say his next words, but they’re true, “You’re probably my favorite coworker.” 

Your smile is back, radiant and comforting. Eddie’s pride swells that it was his hand that ignited that bit of flame back into you. 

“Yeah?”

“Yeah.” 

You’re like a child, looking down bashfully and fiddling with the edges of your apron. He’s sure that any second now, you might start swaying side to side, that your pupils might form into absolute hearts. You visualize exactly how it feels every time he sees that yellow Jeep parked in the lot. 

You bite your lip to break from your shy spell, leaning towards him with a summer glint to your eyes, “Don’t tell anyone, but I’m starting to think you’re my favorite too, Munson.” 

A conglomeration of the past month – it feels as though it all comes to a rise in this moment, hitting an unimaginable peak, and he isn’t scared of a sudden drop. There will be no veering or falling down from these heights, no sudden lack of friendliness. He knows it surely the longer he stares into your eyes. If anything, maybe this is actually just a beginning. 

“Yeah, sure,” he snorts, unable to contain himself, “I doubt that, Sunshine.” 

The nickname slips out without much thought, but he doesn’t even have time to panic – your grin is painfully wide as you lift a brow. “Wanna bet?”

“Never took you as a gambler.”

“John rubbed off on me.” 

He twists his face, holding back any sexual innuendos, and that’s when it happens. Your mouth falls open, realizing the dirty joke he’s biting down on, and you gasp dramatically. Your hand flies out without second thought, smacking him on his shoulder. 

A smack. That’s what breaks the seal between the two of you. A joking smack on the shoulder at a crude innuendo, and suddenly the unspoken and terribly awkward boundary that should always exist between coworkers is shattered. 

“I lied,” you try to deadpan, but you can’t stop smiling at Eddie’s withheld laughter, “Oh my God, fuck you. That’s gross! You’re officially my least favorite coworker.”

“Yeah, but I bet John’s your favorite customer, right?” 

He’s able to block your second attempt at a slap this time, now close enough that he smells your perfume and sweet shampoo. Smells whatever lotion you use, that lingering and stubborn fragrant chai syrup that’s dried on your arms. You’re giggling shamelessly as you wrestle your wrist out of his grip. He swears, if you’d let him, his fingertips would stay pressed there on your pulse until the two of you conjoined in some twisted way. Like overgrown roots taking back control of abandoned buildings, you’d wrap around him and his ridiculous insinuations. He’d die a happy man. He’s already about to die a happy man as he feels your heart racing, and he almost convinces himself that you feel it too. 

God, Eddie really liked you. He doesn’t care anymore, he’s willing to admit it to himself at the very least. He fucking likes you. He’d be a fool not to. 

His fingers are still wrapped around soft skin when suddenly, Gale rounds the corner, and clears his throat. 

“I, um-” his eyes zero in on the space left behind as Eddie drops your wrist, and you’re quick to tuck it behind your back. It’s as if the two of you are children who have been caught doing something you shouldn’t have been. Eddie shoves his own burning fingertips into the pocket of his apron, “I just wanted to say you guys did good today. It’s- uh, you’re both off. So… yeah. Um, good job today.” 

Eddie gets second hand embarrassment from Gale’s stuttering, but you look like you might burst into laughter at any moment. Not teasing chuckles or cruel mockery, but the kind of laughter that occurs when two friends are in trouble, and they avoid each other’s gazes during their scolding in the fear of laughing at an inopportune moment. 

You won’t look his way. It’s exactly that. 

“Thanks,” Eddie forces out, seemingly satisfying Gale as he just nods and scurries off. 

Once you two are left alone in the corner again, you finally look at him and burst into that building laughter. 

Sunshine is fitting for you, he decides, as your laughter fills his lungs with the sun and more. 

—

“So, you don’t live near the store?” you ask, scrunching up your nose cutely as you walk side by side with Eddie across the parking lot towards your cars. Both of you had been eager to get out of the store after Gale’s fiddly dismissal. 

Eddie shakes his head, pulling the straw of his free drink from his mouth, “Nah, twenty minutes out.” 

He’d gotten a caramel frappuccino, emphasis on a blasphemous amount of drizzle, and Ash had nearly castrated him with a glare as she had bustled away on bar. You’d only snorted under your breath and asked for a water. 

“Really?” you stop dead in your tracks, in the center of the parking lot. Eddie can’t lie – it makes him nervous. If any of the usual asshole drivers that usually speed through here decided to arrive, they’d hit you. He has half the mind to reach out and grab your hand, to tug you over to the safe space between the two of your cars, “No way – I live twenty minutes away.” 

He swears his stomach falls to the pavement below, “You live in Hawkins?” 

No. It can’t be possible. He refuses to believe that you could live so close, that you would have been residing so near him this entire time and it took a miserable opening job at some out-of-the-way coffeeshop for him to meet you. You cannot be in Hawkins. Not fucking possible.

“Oh, no,” you shake your head, finally walking over to that space Eddie had deemed safe. The shade from your Jeep stretches only about half way to his van as the sun gets closer to settling into the center of the sky, “Opposite direction.”

“Damn.” 

He can’t help the disappointment; yes, his stomach had dropped at the prospect of having spent years already circling around meeting you, but it’s his heart that sinks as you reveal the actual distance between the two of you. 

At least this means you don’t know anything about his reputation in his hometown. 

“That would’ve been cool, though, right?” you stop and turn to him, kicking as a few of the pebbles on the ground, “If I just so happened to live, like, next door to you or something.”

It would have been Eddie’s innocent crush’s dream come true. To find out his sunny coworker was also his goddamn neighbor.

“Yeah,” he tries to hide his disappointment, continuing on with a shrug, “But if we’re gonna be neighbors, it’s probably better that I live next door to you.” 

You look up at him questioning, “Can I… ask why?” 

“I live in a trailer park.” 

He shouldn’t be handing this information over so easily. He’s one step away from dumping all his childhood traumas onto you. 

And he knows that the others joke that it’s normal, and that there've been many heartfelt conversations on the floor between rushes. But something about this feels more personal – it doesn’t feel like two coworkers just comparing old wounds or exchanging living situations. It feels like two friends just getting to know each other. 

He never would have admitted that to anyone else that works with the two of you. 

You don’t even react, just shrugging as he had to brush off his disappointment. There’s no pity, no disgust. No judgment. It’s just a new piece of the puzzle that is Eddie. 

“Fair enough,” you settle on replying before it looks as if you’ve had a sudden revelation. Eddie swears he sees the lightbulb go off over your head, “You know, no one else knows where I live.”

He finds that hard to believe. They all adore you too much, surely your coworkers would be fumbling over themselves to find out as much about you as they can.

“Really?”

“Really. No one’s ever asked me. And it’s… never really come up.” 

Something about holding this rare piece of information about you makes Eddie want to jump for joy. He wants to hold it close to his chest, tuck it away for safe keepings. He doesn’t really know why. 

But he’s on his way to figuring it out as he says, “I guess it’s not something coworkers really talk about, huh? Probably more friends territory.” 

A slight fib, because plenty of the other baristas have overshared that type of information. The ones that talk too much, that never seem to take a breath or leave a space for people like yourself or Eddie to really insert yourselves into the conversations.

He’d noticed that. You talk quite a bit too, but never about yourself. Always encouraging information out of other people, remembering the little details they share, but it’s never an even exchange. He used to think it was a choice you made, but he’s suddenly wondering if it’s because no one ever cared to listen. 

“I guess so,” you hum. You two should part ways. You climb into your Jeep, Eddie hop into his van. And maybe you’d sit in your respective idle vehicles for a second, even look at each other through tinted windows and make silly faces. But this should be the beginning of the end of your day together. Someone has to leave; one of you should leave. Instead, you just tilt your head curiously at Eddie, and he knows why now he wants to hold you so near and dear and safely as you ask him, “Well, in that case, do you wanna be friends?” 

And – yeah. Eddie does want to be friends. As a matter of fact, he might want to even be more than friends eventually. But for now, this offering is enough. 

He thinks you’ve rubbed off a little on him, because he must be bleeding a little bit of sunshine as he says, “Absolutely.”

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