#gale sees them and immediately passes out | Explore Tumblr posts and blogs

moonselune · 6 months ago

Note

You're dark bg3 stuff is amazing, what do you think about the reader getting sick and them ever over reacting or not reacting

Separate idea: Them dressing up with reader like a doll not a person showing how they think about them.

Okay okay, so I did a mix of injured reader and ill reader, feel free to send in the separate idea as an additional request !

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Dark!BG3 | Help (Please don't) !

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

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CW: Controlling, manipulation, murder, arson, coercion, forced memory loss, illness, injury,

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Whether out of defiance or out of poor luck, you are in need of healing, how do they react to this?

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Conqueror Minthara:

The injury happened quickly, too quickly for you to react. In the chaos of the skirmish, a blade had sliced across your side, leaving a deep, ragged gash. You had snuck out of the House and landed yourself in some trouble. You knew Minthara would be furious if she found out, so you did the only thing you could think of: you hid it.

Back in your quarters, you bandaged the wound as best as you could, gritting your teeth against the searing pain. You knew it wasn't enough, but you hoped it would hold until the bleeding stopped. You went about your restricted duties, ignoring the throbbing pain in your side. As the day went on, however, the wound worsened, the edges growing inflamed and hot to the touch. You moved stiffly, every step a reminder of the injury you were concealing.

Minthara was perceptive, always watching, always aware. So it was only a matter of time before she noticed.

As you were preparing for bed, she entered your shared room. Her eyes immediately zeroed in on the blood seeping through your bandages and staining your clothes. Her expression turned from curiosity to fury in an instant.

“What is this?” she demanded, her voice sharp. “Why did you not tell me?”

You tried to straighten up, to look composed, but the pain was too much. “It’s nothing. I can handle it.”

Minthara crossed the room in a flash, her eyes blazing with anger and something else—something that looked dangerously like panic. She grabbed your arm, forcing you to sit on the edge of the bed.

“Clearly, you cannot,” she hissed, tearing the bandage away with a swift, angry motion. The sight of the infected wound made her pale. “Why did you hide this from me?”

“I didn’t want your help,” you admitted, your voice barely above a whisper.

Minthara’s eyes softened for a brief moment, a flicker of something almost tender passing through them. She barked orders to the servants to bring hot water and clean cloths, her hands never leaving your arm.

“Minthara, I’m fine,” you tried again, but she silenced you with a glare that could have melted stone.

“Do not speak,” she commanded, her voice cold and unyielding. “You will only make it worse.”

The servants arrived quickly, setting down the supplies before hastily retreating from the room. Minthara’s fingers were surprisingly gentle as she cleaned the wound, her touch precise despite the anger simmering in her eyes. She applied a healing salve, the warmth of the magic easing the pain slightly.

“Y/N, really, why did you not tell me?” she asked again, her voice quieter now but no less insistent.

“I didn’t want to be a burden,” you repeated, your voice trembling slightly. “I didn’t want you to see me as weak.”

“You are mine,” she said quietly, her eyes locking onto yours. “Your pain, your wounds—they are my concern. Do not hide anything from me again.”

“I can take care of myself,” you insisted, a weak attempt at retaining some form of independence. “I don’t need you to—”

“Enough,” she interrupted, her voice brooking no argument. “You are not in a position to argue.”

She helped you lie down, her hands lingering on your skin as she pulled the covers over you. You tried to resist, to show that you were still strong, still independent, but the pain and exhaustion were too much. You sank back into the pillows, your body trembling with the effort.

“Rest now,” she murmured, her fingers brushing against your cheek. “You need to heal, and I will ensure that you do.”

She sat by your side, her hand resting lightly on your arm. Her presence was both a comfort and a reminder of the power she held over you. You couldn’t help but feel a strange sense of safety in her presence. Minthara’s fierce protectiveness was a double-edged sword, but for now, it was a comfort you were willing to accept.

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Mother Superior Shadowheart:

Falling ill in the shadowy sanctum of Shadowheart's temple was an unexpected and grueling ordeal. The illness had come on suddenly, a vicious fever that left you weak and disoriented. Shadowheart, usually composed and stoic, transformed into a flurry of anxious care and vigilant oversight, treating you as if you were a fragile, precious doll.

Her concern was overwhelming. She scarcely left your side, tending to your every need with meticulous care, administering potions and checking your temperature frequently. Her eyes, usually cold and calculating, were filled with a mixture of fear and determination.

One evening, feeling a fleeting burst of strength, you decided to leave your bed. The air in the room felt stifling, and you yearned for the cool breeze of the temple gardens. You managed to slip out of bed, your legs trembling with the effort, and slowly made your way towards the door.

You had barely reached the threshold when you heard Shadowheart's voice, sharp and filled with a mixture of relief and anger. "What do you think you are doing out of bed?"

Before you could respond, she was at your side, her grip firm but not painful as she took your arm and began to guide you back to your quarters.

"You need to rest," she scolded, her voice low and intense. "You are far too weak to be wandering around."

As she practically dragged you back to your bed, she continued her lecture. "Do you have any idea how worried I’ve been? You could have collapsed, or worse! The fever could have spiked again, and I might not have been there in time to help you."

You tried to protest, to explain that you just needed a bit of fresh air, but she cut you off, her eyes blazing with a fierce protectiveness. "No. You are to stay in bed until you are fully recovered. I cannot lose you. Do you understand?"

Her words were both a command and a plea. You nodded, feeling the weight of her worry and care pressing down on you. As she helped you back into bed, her touch was gentle, but her eyes were filled with a steely resolve. Shadowheart sat beside you, her hand resting on your forehead to check for any signs of fever.

"I am doing this for your own good," she said softly, her voice a mixture of exasperation and tenderness. "You mean too much to me to take any risks with your health."

You sighed, realizing that any resistance would be futile. "I understand," you murmured, your voice barely above a whisper.

Satisfied, she nodded, brushing a stray lock of hair from your forehead. "Good. Now rest. I'll be right here if you need anything."

As you lay back, exhaustion overtaking you once more, you couldn't help but feel a strange mix of emotions. Shadowheart's protectiveness was suffocating, yet her care was undeniable. Despite her strictness, there was a deep affection in her actions, a need to keep you safe at all costs.

Closing your eyes, you allowed yourself to relax, the comfort of her presence soothing the lingering anxiety. Shadowheart remained by your side, her vigilant watch never faltering, determined to see you through this illness and ensure your recovery.

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God of Ambition Gale:

Gale's realm, an ethereal expanse of arcane wonders and mystical beauty, had become a gilded cage. After days of being chained to his godly throne, you were finally released, left to wander the opulent halls while he attended to some mortal matters. Boredom gnawed at you as you meandered through the labyrinthine corridors, the silence broken only by the distant hum of magical energies.

Your exploration led you to a dimly lit chamber filled with ancient artifacts and relics. Curious, you began to examine them, marveling at the power and history they held. One object, in particular, caught your eye—a small, intricately designed amulet pulsating with a faint, eerie glow. Drawn to its strange allure, you picked it up, feeling a sudden jolt of energy course through you.

Almost immediately, you knew something was wrong. The amulet's energy began to leech into you, draining your power and leaving you feeling weak and disoriented. Panic set in as your vision blurred, your legs giving way beneath you. You collapsed to the floor, the amulet still clutched in your hand, its malevolent power sapping your strength.

As darkness closed in, you heard Gale’s voice, a mixture of shock and fury, echoing through the chamber. You tried to call out to him, but the words died in your throat as unconsciousness claimed you.

When you finally woke, you found yourself in your ethereal bed, the soft, shimmering sheets cool against your skin. Gale was beside you, his expression one of intense concentration and worry as he tended to you with meticulous care. His hands moved with practiced precision, channeling restorative magic into your weakened body.

"You scared me," Gale admitted, his voice a low murmur. "Although you couldn't die, you would have been imprisoned in that cursed object. I couldn't bear the thought of losing you."

You managed a weak smile, the familiar tenderness in his eyes reminding you of the mortal Gale you had once known. It made him more bearable, a fleeting glimpse of the man he used to be.

"Thank you," you whispered, your voice still shaky. "It’s good to see you care."

He looked at you, a faint smile playing on his lips. "You are precious to me, more than you know. Losing you would have been unbearable."

For a moment, the godly arrogance faded, replaced by genuine concern and affection. But then, as if a switch had been flipped, his expression hardened once more.

"I never should have let you out of the chains," he said, his tone now cold and commanding. "Clearly, you cannot be trusted on your own."

The warmth you had seen in his eyes vanished, replaced by the cold, calculating gaze of a god. The fleeting moment of vulnerability was gone, and you realized that the Gale you had once known was buried deep beneath layers of power and control.

You nodded, feeling a pang of sadness. These glimpses of the man he used to be were all you had left, and you would have to savor them whenever they appeared.

As he continued to tend to you, you closed your eyes, letting the warmth of his magic wash over you. For now, you would accept his care, knowing that the moments of tenderness, however rare, were a precious reminder of the love that had once existed between you.

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Ascended Astarion:

Finding yourself alone for the first time in weeks, you eagerly seized the opportunity to venture into the city. The palace, with its grandiose rooms and oppressive atmosphere, had begun to feel like a gilded cage. You longed for a taste of freedom, a moment to reconnect with the world outside Astarion's watchful gaze. Disguised in a cloak and moving through the busy streets, you enjoyed the anonymity that the city offered, if only for a short while.

However, the city held dangers you hadn't anticipated. You had barely turned down a quiet alley when a figure emerged from the shadows. A member of the Gur, a survivor of the massacre Astarion had orchestrated, stood before you. His eyes were filled with a burning hatred, and before you could react, he lunged, driving a wooden stake towards you. It was intended for your heart but in your surprise you had managed to twist away, but the stake drove into your leg instead. The pain was immediate and excruciating, and you collapsed to the ground, gasping for breath.

"You'll pay for what he did," the Gur spat, his voice trembling with rage. "All of you will."

Summoning every ounce of strength, you managed to fend him off just enough to escape. Bleeding and limping, you made your way back to the palace, each step a searing agony. When you finally stumbled through the grand doors, you were barely conscious, the loss of blood and pain clouding your vision.

Astarion was immediately at your side, his usual composed demeanor shattered by the sight of you.

"What happened?" he demanded, his voice a mix of fury and panic.

You could barely speak, each breath a struggle. "Gur… attacked me," you managed to gasp.

Astarion face contorted in fury and quickly scooped you up in his arms and carried you to a nearby chaise. He crouched and inspected the wooden stake.

" Y'know...this wouldn't… be a problem if… if you made me a true vampire… like you promised." You managed to get out, your leg throbbing in agony. Astarion's eyes flashed with anger, and he let out a low, frustrated growl.

"Not this again," he snapped. "I don't have time for your petty complaints."

Before you could argue further, Astarion raised his hand and snapped his fingers. Instantly, darkness engulfed you as you lost consciousness.

When you awoke, you were back in the opulent bedroom you shared with Astarion, lying on the soft bed. The stake was gone, and the wound in your leg had been meticulously cleaned and bandaged. Astarion sat beside you, his expression unreadable as he watched you stir.

"You're awake," he said quietly, his tone lacking its usual sharpness. "Good. I was beginning to worry."

You tried to sit up, but Astarion gently pushed you back down. "Don't move. The wound is still healing."

"You knocked me out," you said, the accusation clear in your voice.

Astarion sighed, a flicker of regret crossing his features. "I had to. You were manic, and I needed to get the stake out without causing more damage."

"Maybe I wouldn't be so 'manic' if you kept your promises," you retorted, your voice weak but defiant.

Astarion's eyes darkened, and he looked away. "I will make you a true vampire, but you must trust me. Everything in its time."

You wanted to argue, to demand more, but the exhaustion and pain were overwhelming. Instead, you closed your eyes, letting out a frustrated sigh. Astarion's hand rested on yours, a rare gesture of genuine comfort.

"Rest now," he said softly. "You're safe here. I'll ensure nothing like this happens again."

Despite your anger and frustration, you couldn't deny the relief of being back in the palace, away from the dangers of the city. As you drifted back into a fitful sleep, you wondered if you would ever truly be free of Astarion's control or if you were forever destined to be his dark consort, caught in a web of promises and power.

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Naturist Halsin:

The allure of the forbidden part of the forest was too strong to resist. Despite Halsin’s stern warnings about the dangers lurking within, you couldn't help but venture into its depths, driven by curiosity and a need to prove your independence. The trees grew denser, their branches interwoven like a living labyrinth, and an eerie silence pervaded the air.

You were careful at first, stepping lightly and avoiding any obvious dangers. But your caution wasn't enough. As you pushed past a particularly dense thicket, you felt a sharp sting on your hand. Looking down, you saw a deep scratch from a thorn-covered vine, the flesh around the wound already starting to swell and turn an angry red. Panic set in as the pain intensified, and you knew immediately that the thorn was poisonous.

Reluctant to face Halsin's inevitable scolding, you stumbled back to the grove, clutching your throbbing hand. Desperation drove you to his work area, where you began to tear through his meticulously organized supplies, searching for an antidote or anti-toxin. Herbs and vials clattered to the ground, your movements growing more frantic with each passing second.

"What do you think you're doing?" Halsin's voice, calm but laced with amusement, startled you. He stood in the doorway, arms crossed and an eyebrow raised in a mixture of curiosity and mild irritation.

You quickly hid your injured hand behind your back, trying to compose yourself. "Nothing, just… looking for something."

Halsin's eyes narrowed as he took in the mess you'd made. "Is that so? Show me your hand."

You shook your head, backing away slightly. "It's nothing, really."

He sighed, his patience clearly wearing thin. "You can't fool me. Show me your hand, now."

You tried to make a break for it, but Halsin was quicker. With a firm grip, he pulled your hand from behind your back, his eyes widening slightly at the sight of the inflamed wound.

"I warned you about that part of the forest," he scolded, his tone a blend of frustration and concern. "Why must you always ignore my advice?"

You winced, both from the pain and his reprimand. "I just… I wanted to see for myself."

Halsin shook his head, muttering something under his breath as he examined the wound. "You're fortunate it wasn't something more deadly."

With practiced ease, he began to mix herbs and apply a salve to your hand, his touch gentle despite his stern expression. The relief was almost immediate, the burning pain subsiding as the antidote took effect.

"You need to be more careful," Halsin lectured, his voice softer now. "I may be able to heal you, but there are some things even I can't fix if you continue to be reckless."

You nodded, feeling a mix of embarrassment and gratitude. "I'm sorry. I should have listened to you."

He finished bandaging your hand and looked at you, his eyes softening. "Just promise me you'll be more cautious in the future. I don't want to see you hurt."

"I promise," you said, genuinely contrite.

Halsin gave a small nod, satisfied for the moment, he brought up your injured hand to hiss lips and pressed a kiss to them. "Good. Now, return to our bed, you need rest."

"But I- Halsin!" Halsin, fed up of your combatance carried you over his shoulder, leaving the mess of his work area behind him as he carried you to your bed.

You tried to protest, to wriggle out of his grip but his hold on you was strong. He placed you down on the array of furs and pillows and before you could realise what he was doing he had already wildshaped into his bear form. He pinned your chest with a large paw and quickly settled, not excactly on top of you, but there was no way you would be able to leave. Sleep soon took you ,and you didn't put it past Halsin to have put something in the salve he used to treat your wound to have caused it.

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This series has been going so well and thank you so much everyone for your continued support! - Seluney xox

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dancingbirdie · 1 year ago

Note

I saw you did a new submission for Astarion. Is it okay if I ask for another thing for Astarion who’s very submissive and whiny for your touch?

Hi anon! I hope I did your request justice. I was feeling a little angsty today and this is what came out. Feel free to submit another request if this didn't scratch your itch, so to speak.

As always, comments and reactions are appreciated.

xoxoxo

Bring Me Back

Rating: Mature

Pairing: Astarion x gn!Reader

Word Count: 1.3K

Warnings/Tags: Oral sex (Astarion receiving), slight hand/finger kink, body worship, mentions of blood & gore, trauma/trauma response, disassociation, fluff and angst and smut, p0rn with a little plot.

Summary: Astarion just needs some love and comfort from you after a particularly brutal fight.

*****

There was blood on his hands. Too much. Dried and crusted, saturating the wrinkles around his knuckles. He sat on the edge of the bed you were sharing, hands limp in his lap.

He’d killed so many today. You all had, but he more so than anyone else. It had been a vicious battle, the reality of which seemed to be sinking into his bones now.

“Astarion?” you ventured carefully. You were carrying in a water pitcher and basin you had pilfered from the cook’s quarters downstairs.

He didn’t seem to register your voice. You tried again, moving cautiously to kneel on the floor before him.

“Astarion?”

“Hmm?” he responded, his glassy eyes finally sharpening enough to take you in. “Oh, apologies, darling. My mind… it must’ve wandered.”

“Are you feeling all right?” you probed in a low murmur.

“I feel…,” he trailed off, his head shifting to stare vacantly out the dingy window near the bedside. “Numb.”

“Numb?” you echoed.

“Mm. Disconnected, more like,” he amended distractedly.

“Hm, I see,” you replied, unsure of what more there was to say.

Certainly you could understand the feeling. And certainly it was justified, after the carnage you all had wrought today. No matter how noble the cause, things had still ended in a tide of blood and viscera.

You were at a loss for how to comfort him. But the rational part of your brain settled on addressing the most immediate problem before you. Namely, the blood on his hands.

“Astarion,” you soothed, waiting until he turned back to look down at you again. “I’d like to clean up your hands before we rest.”

He stared at you blankly. Then slowly, his gaze drifted down to his hands. He turned them over, palms up, studying them absently.

“Is that okay? Can I touch you?” you pressed.

You knew his displeasure in being touched without warning. You’d seen his reactions frequently enough, on the road with your other companions. Each clap on the shoulder from Gale. Each good-natured shove from Karlach. His response was subtle, but not lost on you. He would grimace and shrink away. Every time.

“Touch me?” he repeated now, brows upturned.

“Yes,” you nodded. “To clean your hands of the blood, love.”

He shuddered. You watched as his fingertips twitched. His bottom lip trembled.

“Please,” he uttered in a broken plea.

You nodded again and set to work. Gingerly, you lifted each hand, cradling it with reverence. You passed the rag soaked in tepid, rose-scented water over each digit, in between them. You swiped under each nail, over each knuckle, clearing his fingers of blood, one by one. You soothed over his palms, over the patchwork of calluses on the pads of fingers, over the delicate skin of the backside of his palms. He watched you in silence as you carried out your cleaning, mesmerized.

The basin was colored deep crimson by the time you finished. Grabbing a dry cloth, you patted his hands dry. You squeezed them both gently before moving to release them. You prepared to stand and get yourself ready for rest.

But Astarion stopped you. His hands, once limp while you were caring for him, suddenly clutched yours desperately. Your eyes whipped up to meet his in surprise. They were limned in tears that had yet to fall.

“Please,” he whispered in a desperate sort of voice. A whine, almost. “Don’t stop. Don’t stop touching me.”

You swallowed thickly, unsure of what to make of his plea.

He plunged ahead at your reticence. “I can’t… I want to be here. In this moment. But I can’t find my way back,” he croaked.

His voice, so broken, so desolate, was rending your heart in two. It was more than you could bear.

“Touch me,” he begged. “Bring me back. Please.”

You nodded, never breaking eye contact, as you rose from your crouched position on the floor before him. Tears streamed silently down both of your faces. Neither of you made a move to wipe them away.

Slowly, carefully, you urged him to shift back on the bed as your legs parted to straddle him. Perched atop his lap, you threaded your fingers through his silvery locks. Pulled on them slightly. Tugged at them until he groaned.

His hands grasped your hip bones, hard enough that you were sure there would be finger-shaped bruises there tomorrow. You didn’t mind. You would cherish them, those marks from your lover.

“Come back to me, love. Come back to me,” you whispered in between hot, open-mouthed kisses. Your tongues danced together, like old friends.

You nipped at the hollow place near his clavicle. You sucked on the skin where his neck met his shoulder. His needy, breathy whines only goaded you further. You hoped the fire that was igniting in your veins would transfer to his. If the way his hips were canting into you was any indication, you were both tinderboxes itching to be set ablaze.

“Be here. Be here, in this moment with me,” you crooned in his ear, rolling your hips into his. You were both still fully dressed, but your bodies crested and fell together in perfect timing. A practice performance for what was to come.

“Yes, yes,” Astarion keened, as you slipped a hand to brazenly rub the flat of your palm against his erection. The fabric of his breeches was strained to the point of stretching.

“I’m here,” he panted. “I’m here.”

“Good, stay with me, I want to taste you,” you whispered. “Come back to me, let me taste you.”

“Fuck, please,” he moaned, his head drooping onto your shoulder. He was so pliant in this moment, like putty in your hands.

“Lie back,” you ordered, nudging him backwards with your body. “Untie your breeches.”

“Yes,” he agreed, all too eager to follow your command. Chest heaving, he reclined further back onto the bed. His fingers quickly set to work on freeing himself from his leathers.

“That’s it, darling, yes,” you cooed, watching him bare himself before you. “Stay here with me. Watch me. Watch me keep you here.”

“Gods, yes, yes,” Astarion whined, lifting his head to witness you take him fully in your mouth.

“Fuck,” you heard him bark wantonly above you. Felt his hips cant himself deeper into your mouth, until your lips were meeting the base of him.

His dulcet whimpers and moans were music to your ears. As you worshiped him with your mouth. As you caressed him lovingly back into his body, back into this moment, back into this bed with you.

You could sense he was close to climax as his hands gripped your hair tighter and tighter. You swirled your tongue around him with greater fervor, teasing him closer and closer to the edge.

“Let me come in your mouth, please, darling, please,” he keened, hips bucking erratically against you.

Refusing to bring him down from this high with words, you met his eyes and nodded your assent, gripping his thighs tighter as if to say go on then, love.

And he did. He spilled himself down your throat in delicious pulses. You swallowed every bit, relishing his release as if it were your own.

With a soft pop of your lips, you released him. Licked him clean, before stretching out to lie on the bed beside him.

His chest was heaving as he recovered. You delicately traced the muscles of his abdomen as he came to. After a few moments, he lifted a hand to clasp your fingers. Stilled them with his own as they interlaced on his chest.

“Did you find your way back?” you whispered.

He turned his head to look at you. His lips upturned in a quiet, muted sort of smile.

“Thanks to you,” he returned quietly. “I’m here again. Here with you.”

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nrvcntr · 11 months ago

Text

My Lover is Like

hey remember how i said i'd write that fic about tav coming from a noble background and having a riddle that someone has to answer to date her and no one ever gets it right and then years later she tells gale and he knows immediately? anyway here it is

There are certain scents that bring back memories - warm grass on a summer’s day, fresh linens placed on a bed, and of course, the sickly sticky burn of a bottle of plum fizz, shared among friends. Astarion recoiled after he sniffed the open bottle, his nose scrunched in horror.

“You can’t be serious,” He said.

“You’re being dramatic. It isn’t that bad,” You replied.

You had found a crate full of bottles on your last trek and dragged it back to the campsite, anticipating a heroic welcome at your generous haul. It was nearing sunset and it seemed as good of a time as any to see what the contents of the crate were. Upon cracking the crate open, your eyes lit up at the sight of bottles on bottles of plum fizz. This had been the drink that defined your adolescence as a noble in Baldur’s Gate. It immediately brought back memories of revelry, singing songs next to bonfires, and a young Wyll Ravengard throwing up in the street. You pulled out a bottle and handed it to Astarion, who had reacted like a man who never knew the joys of noble debauchery.

“It smells like it could raise something from the dead and then kill it again,” He said, handing the bottle back to you.

“Look, we used to drink this all the time when we were kids. It’s like a rite of passage among children of nobility in Baldur’s Gate.”

Wyll, overhearing the conversation, came over to see what you were so impassioned about. At the sight of the bottle in your hand, he recoiled like someone had just smacked him upside the head.

“No. Get that thing away!” He shouted, shaking his hands.

“Oh, stop it. I remember you used to beg to play fizzy hands when we were younger,” You said.

“Fizzy hands.” Astarion said flatly, “What sort of braindead activity is fizzy hands?”

You raised your brow to Wyll, who explained that “fizzy hands” was the beloved drinking game of your youth, where a small magical seal was applied to two bottles of plum fizz, which an individual would hold. The seal wouldn’t break until both bottles were consumed.

“Fizzy hands leads to fizzy guts, which leads to…a fizzy mess, in the street. You couldn’t pay me to take a sip of that now.” Wyll said.

You looked around the campsite and gestured to Gale, who had been beginning the preparations for dinner so intently that he hadn’t noticed the failing case you were trying to make in favor of plum fizz.

“It’s nice to know that your taste in wine is nearly as bad as your taste in men,” Astarion mused, causing you to shoot him a farcefully menacing look. Your affections for Gale were no secret, and the two of you had shared an intimate moment in the Weave, but you were unsure of your current status, or even whether he really returned your feelings. You had begun to write it off as a passing fancy, something to daydream about during long days of traveling. Though, there was no hiding how much you enjoyed being around the man, your conversations often dragging well into the night after everyone else had fallen asleep. You had never met anyone else who seemed to understand you the way that Gale did, or whose company you enjoyed nearly half as much.

“You’re a man of taste, and you’re knowledgeable about wine. Can you settle a debate for us?” You asked Gale when he walked over.

“A glass of wine sounds delightful this evening. What’s the topic of debate?” He asked.

“Astarion and Wyll may not be as cultured as you and I. Just tell them about the fine properties of this blend,” You said, trying to communicate ‘please, say this tastes good’ in your expression as you poured a glass and handed it over.

Gale swirled the glass and his eyes widened at the scent. To his credit, he took an honest sip and racked his brain for something kind to say about it. “It has notes of…berry. And cinnamon. And…” He couldn’t do it. “Acid. It tastes like it would eat a hole through a table if you spilled some on it. Do the youth of Baldur’s Gate really ingest this willingly?” He asked.

You threw your hands up.

“Poor taste, the lot of you. It cannot be helped.”

After dinner, Astarion sauntered over to you, two glasses of plum fizz in hand.

“A drink together. Sort of a truce,” He said.

You were suspicious, but took the glass in hand. The spicy, bitter, sweet, and confusing concoction ran down your throat and made your stomach feel hot. Astarion’s glass was already empty, and he poured you both another. By the time you realized that Astarion had been pouring his drinks out to get you to continue drinking, you were drunk enough to begin telling stories of your youth in Baldur’s Gate.

“So, after Wyll threw up in the street -”

“Can you please stop talking about that. I have plenty of embarrassing stories I could tell at your expense, you know. Lock.” Wyll said pointedly.

“Lock?” Shadowheart asked.

You covered your face, feeling a burning sensation creep up your cheeks.

“What none of you realize is that our beloved companion here was once the most eligible bachelorette in Baldur’s Gate nobility. Her family was wealthy and she was beautiful, intelligent, and charming…”

“Whatever happened?” You asked, making yourself laugh.

“However, she never took a partner. Singles of all creeds, genders, and races tried, but no one could get through to her. So, she began to be known as ‘the lock of Baldur’s Gate’. And, what opens a lock but a key? And the key to her heart was to answer a riddle,” Wyll explained with a dramatic flourish.

“A riddle? How droll. That’s a little…presumptuous, don’t you think?” Astarion asked. You shrugged.

“Why a riddle?” Karlach asked.

“I didn’t want to end up with someone who was a complete dunce,” You joked. It was a half-truth, since the whole truth would have disrupted the mood of revelry among your companions.

“Well, do we get to hear it?” Shadowheart asked.

You leaned back and looked at the faces of your companions. Wyll shook his head, having heard this question lamented among the singles of Baldur’s Gate throughout his youth.

“What is loving Taglath like?” You asked, the question rolling off of your tongue like a well-rehearsed line.

“What a stupid question!” Astarion huffed, rolling his eyes. He had no idea what the answer could be.

“Oh, do you know the answer, then? Since it’s so stupid,” You said, unable to wipe the smirk off of your face. It always delighted you to stump someone with the riddle, and it delighted you even more to watch them struggle with it.

“What is loving like?” You repeated, prodding Astarion for the answer.

“Darling, loving you is like poison seeping through my veins,” Astarion said, pretending to be a romantic poet, his hand gripping his chest, “- and it kills me to be parted from you,” He added, taking your hand in his icy cold grasp.

“Very sweet, but no,” You responded.

Everyone laughed, getting a little chuckle out of Astarion’s foolishness.

“Oh come on, it’s not like any of you geniuses know the answer,” Astarion said, raising a brow to the group. He looked around at their curious faces and wonders aloud, “Do you?”

“Uh, I don’t remember my childhood. Much less silly poems,” Shadowheart said, but thought about it for a moment. “Is it like a rose? Something beautiful out of the dirt?”

You shook your head.

“Chk. This is a waste of time,” Lae’zel said..

“C’mon, Lae’zel, what do you think loving is like?” Wyll probed, the githyanki rolling her eyes at him.

Lae’zel replied, “Like a well-won battle, your enemies dead at your feet.” There is a pause before she asked, “Did I answer correctly?”

“No,” You replied.

Karlach wiped her hands on her pants, not waiting to be asked. “You’re barking up the wrong tree if you ask me, solider,” She said, “But I’ll give it a try. Is it like a cool drink of water on a hot night?”

“That’s sweet, Karlach. It’s own little poem, even. But no,” You said.

“Well what’s the answer?” Astarion huffed, getting frustrated at this little display of ignorance.

“Salamander!” Wyll interjected, snapping his fingers like he cracked the code. This made everyone crack up, to his dismay. “No, because - I mean, uh - well, it’s better than corpses!” He insisted. This only made everyone laugh more.

In this revelry, no one even thought to glance at Gale, who had been watching the scene with a bemused little smile on his face.

There was a lull when the laughter died down, the silence of everyone taking a breath after a hearty laugh.

Through the silence, two words cut through the air like a knife directly to your heart.

“The Sun.”

You gasped (a reaction that, in retrospect, embarrassed you with how dramatic it was). You stared at the speaker, Gale’s dark eyes glinting in the firelight. You felt you must have looked ridiculous, your jaw agape.

In all of the years of telling the riddle, no one had ever known the answer. The key to your heart, you joked. But it had been more serious than you ever let on. As each suitor fumbled through wrong answers, it had only solidified your belief that true love would never be yours. That you would eventually have to settle for someone who couldn’t really understand you.

It was like time stopped, the visions of your companions becoming a blur as Gale came into focus.

Gale, meanwhile, appeared to be blissfully unaware that he had just broken your brain (what was left of it, at least).

“That’s…right. How did you know?” You choked out, hardly above a whisper.

“It’s a very clever riddle. See, most would probably assume that the riddle is about the works of Taglath, whom is renowned as an iconic romantic poet. His works adorn his lover with brilliant metaphors that have captured readers since their inception,” Gale explained to the group, lecturing his never-be students.

“That’s probably why Gef Deldus spent one summer immersed in Taglath’s works,” Wyll recalled, chuckling, “He told everyone that he had solved the riddle. He was convinced you would be his bride by the end of the season. What was his answer?” He asked.

“Love is like a poem,” You replied, still dumbfounded by Gale’s answer.

“The education in Baldur’s Gate leaves much to be desired,” Gale snarked, then continued, “What most people don’t know is that Taglath’s most prominent muse was another poet named Alanis. Unfortunately, most of her work has been lost to history. Almost no complete works remain, and only fragments have been collected for publication. But in her most complete work, she compares her lover to the Sun. It’s a gorgeous poem about loving someone who burns brightly and the fears associated with taking a lover of prominence. Loving despite fear,” He said.

You wondered how it was possible that your body felt like it was on fire but also like someone had thrown a bucket of ice water on you. Did none of your companions notice that you were going insane? The realization rocked you like an earthquake.

Gale Dekarios was not a passing fancy, someone to think about kissing when the option presented itself. He was neither a daydream nor a wet dream to pass the time at different hours. He was not the greatest friend you had ever had, the person who you most looked forward to speaking to each morning after you woke and each night before you went to bed. The person who you spoke about nothing and everything with, played games with, or just enjoyed a comfortable silence with. He was not your traveling companion, nor even an ally who had risked his life for you as you had done for him. It was impossible for Gale to be any one of those things because he was all of them all at once and so much more.

Oh, fuck, you realized, your knees ready to give way.

You were in love with him.

The sound of your companions laughing and chattering together mixed together and sounded like ocean waves. If anyone turned to ask you anything you probably would have just stared at them blankly. You attempted to take a step toward Gale and the drinks you had earlier in the night went to your head, sending you tumbling forward and onto the ground.

“Looks like the plum fizz kicked in. ‘Key’, maybe you should take the ‘lock’ to bed,” Shadowheart said to Gale.

You thought that if you closed your eyes, maybe the ground would swallow you up and you would never have to look at Gale again. Instead, you felt him help you to your feet, allowing you to lean against him as he walked you to your tent. You were desperate to know what was going through his mind - did he realize the gravity that he answer had?

“Easy now,” Gale said, helping you down onto your bedroll. He treated you gently, helping you to unlace your boots and get settled in under the blanket. You were sick to your stomach at being doted on by him and kept quiet, trying to focus on anything but the way he looked at you. He left for a moment and came back to bring you some water.

“Is there anything you need?” He asked.

You were quiet for a moment, then spoke.

“Gale?”

“Yes?”

“After we had that moment in the Weave…you mentioned that we shouldn’t talk about it then, with the orb being unstable and everything going on,” You said, then allowed yourself to lean into your own intoxication, asking what was truly on your mind. “Was that really the reason? Because if you don’t see me that way, you can tell me. It won’t hurt my feelings.” The words poured out of you too quickly for you to worry about sounding insecure. It was a lie, of course, that it wouldn’t hurt your feelings. Being rejected by Gale would be devastating.

Gale looked thoughtful, then recited the end of Alanis’s fragments of her poem about her lover.

“My lover is like the Sun, Brilliant and bright He eclipses me And yet I yearn

My lover is like the Sun Blinding and unyielding When he touches me I burn”

He placed his hand on your cheek, his gaze looking through you and into your soul. The two of you could say so much without a single word.

“Am I the Sun, or are you?” You asked.

Gale had loved the poem when he read it as a boy, and later thought of it often when he was with Mystra, trying to make sense of the reality of having a goddess for a lover. He had often wondered if he would ever have an identity outside of being Mystra’s chosen, or whether he would forever be tied to the Goddess. And if that was the case, why did the idea of it make him burn with jealousy?

However, the poem had taken on new meaning since he met you. He felt like the Sun, a ball of fire ready to explode in his chest at any moment. As badly as he wanted to hold you close, he knew that doing so would destroy you. Still, he wondered, might it be worth it to burn if he could have one moment of knowing what it was like to be yours entirely?

Or rather, were you the Sun? He was certainly transfixed by you, drawn to your brilliance. You, a mortal who dared to be more brilliant and enticing than his Goddess. Would following you lead him down the path to certain doom - or worse, would getting close to you lead you to your own demise? It was that thought that kept him up at night, wondering if he should escape in the night. To save you from himself, or at least get you as far away from the danger as possible.

Gale contemplated your question.

“I’m not sure,” He finally replied.

“I don’t know, either.”

You placed your hand on Gale’s, your gaze fixed on each other, searching for an answer in each other’s eyes. Neither of you could find it.

However, there was one thing that was clear to both of you: whether through flames of salvation or damnation, you would burn for each other.

#gale dekarios #gale x tav #gale x reader #gale of waterdeep #bg3 #bg3 gale #bg3 brainrot #gale brainrot

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blackkatmagic · 5 months ago

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Commander Fox! =D

“Please stop throwing yourself off buildings,” Thorn says, ragged in a way that makes Fox hide a smirk behind his pad. “We’re not all airbenders, and some of us have more self-preservation than a concussed tooka—”

“You mean you're cowards,” Fox says disdainfully, and scrawls his CC number on the bottom of the form, sends it, then closes the pad and clips it to his belt. The wind is strong here, Coruscant's wild weather pockets spitting out hurricane gales and stinging rain despite the fact that Fox knows the weather system is set for balmy sunshine. It’s making the rappel lines flap and swing alarmingly, not that Fox cares about that. Thorn seems like the type to, though.

“Affected by gravity, Fox, not cowards—”

Fox rolls his eyes, pulling his helmet on and checking the comm. They haven't gotten a go signal yet, and Stone’s generally good about not karking up, but Fox is feeling antsy. Their thief has been breaking into the Senate every single night, like a taunt, and only leaving signs on their way out, like they're daring the Guard to catch them.

Maybe it’s a personality flaw, but Fox has never met a dare he didn’t immediately latch onto with teeth, and he sees no reason why this should be any different.

And besides, this wind makes Fox want to throw himself right into the slipstream, see how far he can ride it before he has to start catching himself. If he aims right, he might be able to make it all the way down to the second level of the undercity; there’s a good access point near here, and the wind is temptingly strong.

“You're not even pretending to listen to me, are you?” Thorn asks on a sigh, martyred, like he’s the only reasonable one here.

“I only start pretending to listen when you stop bitching,” Fox says without sympathy, and checks the time again, shifting impatiently. It’s getting towards morning, and he’s run out of paperwork to kill time with. If the thief wants to move, they should do it now while Fox is in a relatively good mood, and not cranky from boredom.

He’s also curious. Whatever the hell kind of bender they are, no one’s been able to work it out.

“Fox—”

A shadow, quick, darting. Fox almost misses it, because it blends in with all the hundreds of other shadows shifting in the light from passing speeders. Something about this is different, though, more fluid, more noticeable. He jerks his head up, and in that same moment a speeder’s lights wash across a window at just the right angle, illuminating a figure in dark clothes, headed at a run down a corridor that should have been locked down when that wing of the Senate was evacuated.

There's no pausing, no moment to think. Fox is moving before he can even register the motion, and he twists, hands up, will behind the motion. Leaps—

The wind catches him like wings, like vast hands, and he hurtles down off the side of the building, arrowing straight for the line of windows across the way.

Like every time, bending is instinct and an adrenaline rush and a burst of vicious, knife’s-blade joy that ricochets through Fox’s whole body, rises to flood him entirely, and he twists, foot leading, and feels the whirl of air that cracks glass like it’s a piece of himself. There's shouting from behind him, troopers scrambling to follow, but Fox doesn’t care.

He’s a howling wind, he’s a hurricane, and when he explodes into the hallway, a gale rising to a scream around him, it feels like he’s the most powerful thing in the whole galaxy. Like he’s invincible, untouchable, free.

No one’s ever going to take that away from him. Fox won't let them.

#my writing #bender au #commander fox #commander thorn

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dekariosclan · 7 months ago

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so bear with me for a second. gale with an elf. the elf is aware humans don't live too long, but isn't that great when it comes to understand the passing of time. one day gale find them crying, is all worried, just to hear that his lover is worried about his death being near. "aren't you fifty or something? humans don't live that much. how many months do you think you can take?" the deal is because gale is a wizard he got to somehow learn to live long enough (i'm looking at you elminster, gandalf, radagast). so he's like: "dear heart, we have been together for the last three centuries. are you aware of that? is very important for me that you are." in this essay i will-

LOL This made my day and gave me a laugh! I could absolutely see this happening.

First of all, I am fully confident Gale would find a way to extend his lifespan to match his love’s. No question. The man is capable of figuring out how to achieve godhood, so the small matter of finding out how to add centuries to his mortal life would be no problem at all.

Second, I think he would be amused at his love’s complete lack of awareness at how long they had been together. He’d enjoy teasing them at every opportunity: “It’s gratifying to know that even after 300 years you haven’t tired of my company yet, my love.” “Perhaps in another few centuries we will run out of things to say to one another? I shall start researching new topics of conversation immediately.”

I mean this is the man who tells a romanced Tav in the epilogue that he ‘could spend an eternity in your company.’ So the 750 years that elves live on average would be no problem at all; Gale would cherish every second with his love, and he would never grow restless or bored.

And hey, with seven centuries to live, he might actually be able to finish reading all those books in his tower, too!

#Thanks for the ask OP sorry for the delay in answering!#answered ask #gale x tav #gale dekarios #gale of waterdeep #bg3 #baldur's gate 3

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randoimago · 1 year ago

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May we have your take on Astarion, Gale, and Halsin falling for/interacting with an SO who is rather self conscious about having to use glasses (maybe they are near sighted or need them only to read?)?

S/O Self Conscious About Glasses

Fandom: Baldur's Gate 3

Character(s): Astarion, Gale, Halsin

Type of Request: Headcanons

Note(s): I would love some glasses or goggle equipment in the game. Idk if there are any in like Act 3 or smth, but getting a steampunk aesthetic (or hot librarian) would be amazing in bg3

Astarion

Oh you poor thing, being self conscious about some lens over your eyes that can be removed. While Astarion lightly taunts you about your insecurities (there are more important things to be insecure about - like a tadpole in your head), he does tell you that your glasses are adorable.

If your insecurity is really that bad and he's really hurt your feelings with his taunts then Astarion does immediately feel bad. He apologizes deeply and would tell you that he used to have glasses too, if that makes you feel better. He was a magistrate and was stuck looking at papers and letters all day most of the time.

As penance for him making you upset, how about he compliments you whenever he sees you with glasses. Astarion is shameless in his compliments too. You might have to ask him to stop before you pass out from the blood rushing to your head.

Gale

You're self conscious of your glasses? But he finds them quite lovely! They give you a bit of an academic look to you. Sexy librarians are rather popular, you know!

Gale also has a pair of reading glasses somewhere that he can put on if you'd like. That way you both can be matching. Cute, non-problematic couples match, right?

With how much of a rarity glasses seem to be, he thinks they make you look unique and charming. Gale could go on and on about how he thinks your glasses look and why they're something to be proud of instead of having self conscious thoughts about. His reassurance just becomes a lecture that you probably end up falling asleep during.

Halsin

The first time Halsin sees the glasses, he has the most adoring look in his eyes as he sees you. He definitely thinks you look very cute with the glasses. He does notice that you don't seem to think the same.

And that's alright. He'll give you compliments and gladly let you know what your appearance with glasses does to him. You thought Astarion is shameless with his compliments? He doesn't even compete with the things Halsin says.

That said, he doesn't want to start making you too uncomfortable or flustered with his compliments. Just know that he does think you look amazing with or without glasses. They won't change a thing about how he feels.

Taglists: @reo-the-leo @unhelpfulnpc

#Anonymous #bg3 x reader #baldurs gate 3 x reader #baldurs gate x reader #halsin x reader #gale x reader #astarion x reader

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herdarkestnightelegance · 9 months ago

Text

Nocturnal eyes

Pairing: Astarion/ g/n Tav

Tags: vulnerable Astarion, angst, friendship, a bit of fluff

Length: 2.4k words

Summary: Astarion notices something is off with his eyes …

A/N: @nyx-knox out here once again, being the ✨best✨ beta-reader I could hope for!

Also: ARE Y'ALL FOR REAL?! Over 750 reactions on my Bedhead fic?? Thank you so much 🥹!!!

Taglist: @wilteddreamsofbaldursgate , @littlelovelore, @onlyancunin @chaoticbardlady99

::::::::::::::::::

Astarion sits in the soft green grass, enjoying the warmth of the setting sun.

Today had been exhausting. The party had finally left the wilderness behind and set up camp on the Mountain Pass. Tomorrow they will head to the Githyanki Crèche, but for now … he’s just relaxing, listening to the soft rustle of the trees above him with his eyes closed.

Because they are hurting again - his damned eyes - causing his head to ache in that awful stinging way. This has been happening semi-regularly since they crashed on that beach. By the end of every day, his eyes feel exhausted. Sometimes he even welcomed the night, the dark bringing relief to his vision, much as he hated to admit that he found any solace in the darkness after having been trapped in it for so long.

It’s not that he wants to be in the dark again - on the contrary! Oh, words could never express how much he enjoys the feeling of the warmth on his skin, the smell of sun-baked earth beneath him, filling him with life, making his undead heart swell with secret joy. It’s just …

“Truly, a sight to behold,” Gale had said, when they first stepped through the gate onto the Pass and were greeted by a magnificent view of the surrounding valley … Or at least Astarion assumed that’s what it was.

Because he can’t tell. Not really. In fact, all he sees are blurry, rugged shapes and a haze of earthy colors far off in the distance.

When Astarion had first opened his eyes after the crash, all he could do was gasp audibly. The sun seared his eyes, the light brighter than anything he had seen in centuries. Immediately, he had shielded his face from the merciless rays, curled into a ball, panic taking over. “No!” he yelped. It’s daytime! I can’t be out! Oh Gods, do I smell smoke? Am I burning up?? Am I disintegrating???

But a few heartbeats passed and to his surprise - and great relief - it was not a burning pain he started to feel. Rather, it was a sensation he thought he had forgotten but that he immediately recalled, having felt it lifetimes ago: The warmth of the midday sun.

Cautiously, he had uncoiled himself and tried opening his eyes again. Gods! It hurts. Of course, Vampire eyes are sensitive to the light, in order to see better at night. An essential trait for nocturnal creatures, predators, such as himself. His eyes hadn’t had to process so much brightness in … forever. So, being blasted with daylight for the first time in roughly 200 years - it hurt like all Hells!

It took a few moments, but eventually Astarion managed to pry open his crimson eyes. And he began to see. To look. And he saw colors he hadn’t seen in too long. He saw the bright blue sky, the deep purples of the Nautiloid shipwreck, the turquoise water covered with the most beautiful shimmering reflections. Everything was bright. Everything was so vibrant! Everything was so … full of life. He looked up, squinting at the trees and their slightly blurred leaves. Those luscious, green leaves. Gods … I had forgotten how beautiful that particular color is …

But there had been no time for him to enjoy all those new sights for long. He heard them before he saw them. The others. Friends? Enemies? He couldn’t tell. They were just indiscernible shapes in the distance - but as soon as he had lured one of them close enough to put a knife to their throat, he was back in survival mode, forgetting about the colors he had just reveled in.

That’s what he knew how to do, after all. Hitting his close target. And really, that’s all he should care about, that’s really all he actually needs to see. He’s a master at close-up melee combat, a rogue who sneaks up to his victims, dangerous with his blade. He’s skilled at picking locks and picking pockets. And he’s an amazing lover, always able to read every detail of his victims' expressions to make sure he hits that target just as well. All he needs to see clearly is what’s right in front of him, isn’t it?

But if he was being really honest … it’s not like his usual tricks have actually worked out for him so far, now have they? His first melee attack had earned him a headbutt to the face. He had woken his first victim while sneaking up on them. And he felt his nice little seduction plan for Tav slowly and steadily backfiring on him - but that was a problem for another time. So why not top it all off with embarrassingly inadequate vampiric eyesight to really emphasize it all, he figured?

Astarion opens his eyes again and looks at the hazy, blurred valley below, the wind tousling his white locks, and he scoffs. Ironic, isn’t it? Here he is, finally free from his captor. But of course, even out in the open, he’s not able to look beyond the confines of his own metaphorical cell. As if his eyes are still keeping him prisoner.

A sound behind him snaps him out of his thoughts. Again, he hears them before he sees them coming. Only this time he knows it is a friend. “Astarion?” Tav, he thinks with a knowing smile. He knows their voice anywhere.

“Yes, Darling?” he asks as their leader emerges from the shade of the trees.

Astarion grew to enjoy Tav‘s company quite a bit, if he was being honest. Not only during their passionate encounters, but also just sitting with them, talking about their journey, about the others in their party, sometimes even about his past, which he never thought possible when he had been pressing his knife to their throat just a short time ago.

“Enjoying the view?” they ask as they sit down next to him in the soft grass.

“Oh of course,” Astarion answers as he leans back onto his elbows.

“Especially the Crèche,” Tav continues, pointing into the valley, making casual conversation.

“Why, I agree. Who would have thought the Gith were such marvelous architects,” the pale Elf replies without missing a beat.

It’s now that Tav turns to look at him. “... Except the Crèche is in the opposite direction?” they say cautiously.

Shit. Astarion tenses.

He hates this. They know. Immediately he is prepared to snap, to throw a sarcastic comment back at them, telling them to mind their own damn business. Feeling exposed, he keeps his gaze fixed forward, part of him expecting to see mockery, or malice even, should he meet Tav’s eyes. But when he eventually looks up … all he sees is a knowing smile. Their face is so very clear next to him, and so is the genuine fondness that greets him in their expression. The same fondness he is secretly happy to see on Tav’s face every time they look at him.

Astarion takes a deep breath. He doesn’t want this, he doesn’t want his walls to go up. Not for Tav. He resists it, that stupid defensive mechanism and to his surprise, he actually relaxes a bit. “You noticed,” he says quietly.

Tav nods. “On our first day, actually.” His eyebrows go up in surprise.

“Did you now?” the vampire asks.

“We climbed that platform next to the crash site, remember? You were first up. And you said there’s nothing to see.” Their tone is neither condescending nor reproachful. “But there was... A lot, actually. You know, like, the village? Or the goblin camp. Or, well, this mountain pass. So yeah, I noticed.”

Astarion scoffs. They were right, of course. And back then, he didn’t even realize there was something wrong with his vision. He had still been so overwhelmed with all the light and color, all this blue and green…

For a moment, both sit in silence before Astarion speaks up. “It’s all rather blurry, you know?” he finally admits aloud. “I never noticed it back in Baldur’s Gate.”

Tav listens and nods. “I thought vampirism cures all mortal ailments, even eye problems.”

“Well, maybe there are exceptions? Or maybe I’m just a sorry excuse for a vampire spawn. Honestly, I don’t know. It’s not like any vampire is able to look at vast illuminated landscapes during the day to notice if something is off.” he says in a slightly frustrated, even embarrassed tone, gesturing towards the sunset.

“Your eyes have been adjusted to the night for 200 years. So … maybe they just need a bit to adjust to the daylight now? Give it some time.” The optimism and sweetness in Tav’s voice makes the corner of Astarion’s mouth twitch up into a half-smile.

“Wouldn’t that be something,” he says. Maybe they are right. Maybe.

This is when Tav clears their throat. “But uhm, until then …” Astarion’s pointy ears twitch slightly as he hears Tav rummaging in their pocket. When they procure something wrapped in a folded leather cloth, he sits up.

“What’s this?” he asked, and they hand him the flat parcel. Curiously, Astarion opens the wrapping.

In his hand lies the most hideous pair of mismatched spectacles he has ever seen.

Before he can say anything, Tav begins to talk. “I came across this half broken pair of looking glasses while looting some time ago, and I thought, well, while there is no way we would ever find the perfect pair, we might just try making a custom one, right? I mean, it’s obvious you’re straining your eyes. You might not say anything to us about it, and you don’t have to, but I can tell that you often have a headache by the end of the day, and I, well, wanted to help.” Astarion still says nothing, inspecting the wonky looking thing in his hands.

Quickly, Tav continues, compelled to explain. “But you have no idea how hard it is to find undamaged spectacles! I mean, it makes sense, right? Who would leave their eyes behind? So anyway, I started collecting all the glasses I could find, hoping for an intact pair, but well … eventually I ended up with … this.”

The pair of spectacles in Astarion’s hand was clearly made of two halves from different glasses, held together in the middle by a thin leather cord, wrapped around it several times and in several other places. “Both glasses seemed to be made for looking at things further away. Of course, I can’t say for certain. They are not for me, I mean, if anything, I should be looking into finding a pair for me, so I can finally read that book Gale won’t shut up about. But … anyway, I thought maybe they might be of use to you.”

It’s not often that Astarion is stunned into silence. Tav did this? For him? It takes him a moment to process this … act of kindness. But when he does, he leans over to Tav, turning their face to him with a finger beneath their chin, and softly kisses them. “They … are hideous, my dear,” he says against their lips, with a chuckle and a genuine, soft smile on his face.

“Yeah, I know,” Tav agrees, kissing him back, mirroring his smile, before pulling away. “Well go on then, put them on.”

And he does. Astarion puts on the mismatched, wonky pair of improvised spectacles, the right temple barely fitting over his ear.

“Well?”, Tav asks hopefully.

With the awkward thing perched in his elegant face, the vampire looks down into the valley and takes in an almost inaudible breath. It’s … much better than he could have hoped for. Yes, it’s far from perfect. The glasses are sitting on his aquiline nose lopsided and the left glass is not even close to what he probably needs, yet he feels that nagging strain on his eyes eases immediately.

But that’s not what stuns the pale Elf.

Just as the sun begins to disappear behind the mountains, casting long shadows and a warm orange glow on everything around them, Astarion sees. And all of it this time! For the first time in 200 years, he sees the crisp outline of the setting sun. He sees the mountain tops and ridges. He sees the glowing clouds. By the Gods…

“Astarion?” Tav asks timidly, but he does not react. They sit with him in silence then, watching him watch the sunset in wonder, those red ruby eyes they love so much squinting intently, unmoving, until the glowing disk disappears behind the horizon and the sky slowly begins to turn a lovely shade of purple.

It takes a moment for Astarion to stir again. Carefully, he takes the spectacles off his face as if it’s the most precious thing he has ever owned, before looking at Tav. A lot of things are going through his head at that moment, and - much to his ever-growing confusion - through his undead heart as well. This is not a thing you just do for a travel-companion. Why are you so nice to me? I do not deserve your kindness. “Thank you.”, he eventually settles on, and he knows to Tav those simple words convey everything.

Tav smiles. “Don’t mention it,” obviously delighted their little gift has been accepted. Why in the hells his favorite travel companion, no, his lover, went out of their way to help him like this, he couldn’t even begin to comprehend. Sure, they agreed to help him kill Cazador, but this is not the same! This is special. This is … caring. It is the kindest thing anyone has ever done for him. And he is truly, deeply grateful.

This gift would do wonders for his vision, at least until his nocturnal eyes fully embrace looking into the far distance during the day. He knows he will look so foolish with this contraption on his nose and he would probably have to kill Gale should the wizard ever see him with them on, but somehow he didn’t mind wearing these, looking silly, unsightly even, in front of Tav. They wouldn’t judge him, they wouldn’t laugh at him. Because he feels that they care.

After a moment, Astarion puts the spectacles back on, turning his head up to the tree branches above them, that stunning green of the individual, defined leaves still visible in the dim dusk light.

“You know, Darling …”, he says, “I really do love that color.”

#ohoh herdarkestnightelegance wrote something #astarion fanfiction #astarion x tav #astarion headcanons #baldurs gate 3 #astarion ancunin #astarion fanfic

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alienoresimagines · 7 months ago

Text

What if John was never shot down ? (John edition)

I've been thinking a lot lately about what would've happened if John hadn't been shot down over Münster so here are some HCs 😊 Warning : Lots of angst lol (Gale HCs here)

Let's imagine for a second that, after meeting with Bucky, clearly grieving, a bit drunk and all in all not fit for being on a mission, Harding decides not to have him on the Münster mission

Instead, he sends him to the flak house which was a decision he'd already thought about after Dye's party but Gale had convinced him to send John on a weekend pass instead

So Bucky is ordered to the flak house despite his best efforts to convince Chick he can be on the mission

He's so angry at everything and everyone : Buck for having left and being shot down, the 100th for acting as if Buck was dead (he's not, Bucky'd know), Chick for sending him to the flak house instead of giving him a chance to let him join Buck, either down below or even higher in the skies, the world for having taken his Gale from him

Most of all he's mad at himself because he left Buck, he wasn't there with him, instead he was spending the night with Paulina and while he was doing that Buck had already been shot down and he didn't know

He's in a strange place of grieving Buck but also convinced he's not dead because if he is, then there is nothing more for Bucky to do in this world

He lashes out at pretty much everyone but is somewhat grateful the doctor doesn't try to make him talk, and lets him be morose and quiet in his corner

He doesn't try to socialise with anyone and tries to drink as much as he can but there's only so much alcohol to be found in the flak house

He barely sleeps because all he can see when he closes his eyes are images of Gale bleeding, Gale unconscious as his plane goes down, Gale exploding with his plane, Gale pierced by flak, Gale terrified and alone

He'd be sitting somewhere and feel a ghost of warmth where Buck would usually be seated, close enough for Bucky to sling an arm around his shoulders except the space is empty

The Münster mission goes as it does in the show : only Rosie's crew make it back and that's the last straw for Bucky

Not only Buck's gone but now almost all the men he flew from the US with, Brady, Murph, Crank, his boys

Chick hasn't put a time limit to his stay at the flak house because even if he needs a Major now more than ever, he knows Bucky can't do that right now

Bucky can't bring himself to talk to Rosie's crew when they arrive at the flak house, too busy with his own grief and anger (a bit like he was at the Stalag except there's no Buck to check on him and pull him out of his own head)

He can't even look at them because why couldn't it be Buck who came back unscathed ? He immediately hates himself even more at the thought because it's unfair to Rosie and his men but also because Buck would never in a million years want that

He'd rather be the only one to go down if it means all his boys make it back rather than the other way around and Bucky knows that

More and more he can hear Buck's voice in his head, which isn't a good sign so he doesn't mention that to anyone, but he clings onto it like a lifeline. He refuses to forget what Buck's voice sounds like, not when he's already starting to forget the exact shade of blue of his eyes no matter how long and hard he stares at the picture he has of him and Buck from flight school or how long he stays awake at night picturing Buck's face not to forget it

Still Buck's features become blurry and John hates himself even more because can he even say he loves Gale if a few days were enough for him not to remember the exact shape of his jaw, the curve of his nose ?

Except that Buck's voice doesn't just sound like his voice, it says things like Buck would say

Encouraging Bucky to drink a bit less, to go to sleep even if he can only close his eyes without falling in Morpheus' arms, to eat more, not to give up on himself and not to give up on Buck

Voice!Buck encourages him to go talk to Rosie and his crew, not even to be Major Egan but just someone who knows what they've been through, someone they can talk to

And Bucky knows that's what Buck would want him to do. Knows that from wherever Buck is, he'd be worrying about his men and about Bucky

So he does the only thing that he can do for Buck at the moment and tries to pull himself in a semblance of a man

How ironic is it that even though he's not there, even though he's been shot down while Bucky was enjoying a woman's touch, Gale's still the one to save him ?

So Bucky starts to pull himself together and is eventually sent back to Thorpe Abbotts

He's not even 75% alright but he can do his job even though he still drinks more than what's healthy

Chick was never scared Bucky would pull a suicide mission because he knows that no matter how deep in gried, Bucky'd never endanger his men like that, but he feels a tad bit more serene when sending him on missions

Bucky is absolutely burning with his want for revenge and justice

In December, he learns that Gale's alive and that changes things

It's like a weight was lifted from his shoulders and he can finally look up from the ground to look at the stars and hope

Which is strange because he's always known Gale was alive, too stubborn to die, but now nobody looks at him with pity anymore

And the thought that Buck is down there in a POW camp makes him even more determined

He sends Buck's letters even though he has no idea if the Germans will let it get to him but he still does (girl worth writing too and all)

In the meantime he kicks up a friendship with Rosie

He flies his 25 missions but he re-enlists because there is no way in hell he'll be going home while Buck is still a POW

No, he'll drop bombs until Germany's unconditional surrender and the liberation of the POWs

He gets a letter back from Buck and he has to go hide himself in the cockpit of B-17 to read it because he knows he'll lose control of his emotions

He absolutely cries in relief and because of course Gale would ask him if he's alright and hope he's holding up okay

Not so gently threaten Buck into taking care of himself and not be the sacrificial idiot John knows him to be in his next letter, even though he has little hope Buck will do it

But if Voice!Buck was enough to pull him out of his hole, maybe knowing Bucky is waiting for him will be enough to give Buck something something to stay alive for

Bucky you idiot Buck was fighting and staying alive for you all along

As D-Day gets nearer he's more determined than ever to really deal a blow and bring Gale closer to home

He doesn't fly as many missions as Rosie but that's okay with him. Even if he'd rather be the one flying with his boys as many times as he can, he knows the work he does is helpful to the cause.

He still doesn't take his lucky deuce back from Buck's footlocker though. The bunk stays empty, no one daring to even sit on it. Bucky dusts Buck's stuff often, makes sure everything's in top condition for when Gale comes back

As the Russians grow nearer to the POW camp, Buck stops answering his letters and while Bucky tries to rationalize, he's still going mad with worry

Especially when he sees how's the winter is treating Germany

The nightmares, which haven't ever fully left, come back in full force as all the different scenarios for POWs haunt him

He absolutely refuses to imagine he could lose Buck so close to the end

And then April 1945 comes around

Bucky was on a mercy mission of his own when he comes back to be greeted with Blakely and Kidd, smiling wider than he's seen them do in years

Immediately, hope swells in his chest, echoes of POW camps being liberated in his ears

He welcomes back Gale like in the show, guiding him to land the plane with tears in his voice then immediately steals Jack's jeep to welcome him on the runway

Absolutely gives him the tightest, fiercest hug ever seen

He doesn't let Gale out of his sight for even one second, devastated to see the effects of being a POW for so long had on his Gale but so damn relieved to finally have him back

Is a bit embarrassed to show Gale how he's been taking care of his footlocker but tries to make light of it

"I knew you'd be back. Told any loony trying to take your bunk that you were just MIA."

And "I've been expecting you back for more than a year, what took you so long ?" though he's choking on his tears by the end of it and Gale's eyes glisten too

They hug for a long time after that

More in the reblogs because I've somehow hit the characters limit lol

#john egan #bucky egan #john bucky egan #clegan #buck x bucky #buck squared #mota #masters of the air #mota hc #gale cleven #buck cleven

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anjelicawrites · 9 months ago

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It's not me if I am not writing a poly; with Gale and John being so joined at the hip, I couldn't help myself.

NSFW and 18+only please.

Warnings: kissing, oral (f receiving), biting, public sex (they are in a warehouse and someone pops in), a bit of overstimulation.

Join the war effort, they said. You’ll see the world and help our boys fight the Nazis! You had imagined yourself in many different situations, never huddled in one of the most hidden warehouses, your back to John’s front and Gale’s head hidden under your Army issued skirt.

John’s mustache tickles your neck when he sucks kisses and hickeys on the side of your neck, his left hand splayed between your breasts to keep you upright when your legs start quivering too much, the harsh sucking on your abused clit makes standing up all the more difficult.

You want to call their names, beg for mercy, for relief, for something you can’t even name, lost in the pleasure Gale’s soft mouth is giving you.

You should have known this was in the cards, those two are joined at the hip and look forlorn when separated, what did you think could happen?

Gale’s hands grab your hips to plaster his face tighter to your core, his tongue licks the rim of your hole teasingly, making you keen with the way he teases you.

“Shh.” John’s big hand flies to your mouth when he hears the door opening.

You’re too lost in pleasure to immediately realize and try to dislodge the roughened palm from your lips; when you hear the footsteps you panic, you three will be in huge troubles if someone finds you three in such a compromising position!

Gale’s ruffled head of hair pops out from under your skirt, in the dim light you can see the wetness on his beautiful lips; his blue eyes fixate on yours, now as big as saucers, and on his friend’s. A silent dialogue passes between the two of them and you tremble when you see the way Gale’s lips turn upwards.

“Keep quiet, sweetheart.” John’s voice is low in your ear.

You can see Gale brunch your skirt up your hips, his hands silently gliding up your legs to move your panties aside again; before you can say anything, John turns your head and kisses you, his hand cupping your nape to keep your lips on his, as Gale starts licking your cunt again with slow, precise swipes.

If you still had your marbles, you’d marvel at how unafraid the two of them are, even with people rummaging around, but you are busy kissing John, desperate to smother your moans when Gale’s tongue starts fucking you with intent. The hand you don’t have in John’s hair finds home on Gale’s head, his fingers like iron on your hips as he pushes his face impossibly close to your center, teasing your clenching muscles, his nose tight against your clit, the pleasure so overwhelming you can feel your body shake in their embrace.

An almost snarl dies between your lips and John’s, his tongue busy playing with yours, his hand a manacle that keeps your face plastered on his, and your body from falling on the floor.

You can feel tears falling down your cheeks when Gale’s lips find your clit again and he sucks, harsh, with intent, wanting you to come all over his face; you want to scream your pleasure, but John’s hand is unforgiving on your nape and all your can do is follow Gale’s face with your hips and kiss John savagely, almost biting his lower lip in your passion.

You’re deaf to the sounds around you, the pleasure robbing you of all the senses that are not focusing on their lips on yours. The waves of pleasure crest and crest with every suck and kiss on your body, both men forcing you to fly higher and higher, until you crash, with a desperate scream drowned by John’s lips.

Your body folds on the floor, Gale’s arms ready to welcome you in warm embrace and you kiss your own essence from his face; it takes you a moment to hear silence again: whomever was here has left, without hearing a single lewd sound.

You nuzzle Gale’s neck and he lets you with a soft smile on his lips; you squeak, surprised, when you feel John’s long fingers moving your panties aside, reaching your still clenching hole.

Before you can say a single world, you hear Gale’s deep voice in your ear.

“Are you ready for round two? Because we are.”

Yes, of all the situations you’ve imagined to be, being loved by those two courageous men has exceeded all your expectations.

#gale cleven x reader x john egan #gale cleven x y/n x john egan #gale cleven x reader #gale cleven x y/n #john egan x reader #john egan x y/n #john egan #gale cleven

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sky-scribbles · 1 year ago

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Today I decided to take out the Bhaalist cultists on the top floor of Felogyr's Fireworks. I'd attempted this a couple of times only to be thwarted by game crashes, so I wasn't about to beat around the bush. I detach Astarion from the party and cast Greater Invisibility and Pass Without Trace on him. Then, like any responsible vampire spawn owner, I send him upstairs to his most enriching environment: a room full of oblivious cultists whom he can murderise with impunity.

As the bodies begin hitting the floor, the various guards and staff decide that the three adventurers loitering suspiciously on their landing are the source of the problem, and engage them in combat. As long as I remain focused on Astarion, however, who is upstairs gleefully stabbing cultists, the guards can do nothing but glower at my party, weapons drawn, in Faerun's most awkward staring contest.

At last, one of the cultists rolls high enough to see through Astarion's invisibility, and Astarion gets shunted into the initiative order with everyone else. At this point, Avery the fireworks boss comes running upstairs, sees his staff brawling with us, and decides the only way to save his business is Explosions.

He casts Fireball. Gale fails to Counterspell. My screen fills with fire and 'Object took 74 fire damage!' notifications. Grimly, I look to the party portraits to see who needs healing, and... no one has lost a single hit point. Bewildered, I swap to Astarion to see what's happening on the top floor, and everything begins to make sense.

BG3, I have noticed, gets a little confused if anyone casts an AOE spell in an area that has two overlapping elevations. Such as the landing and top floor of a fireworks shop. Sometimes, it will ignore the conveniently clustered trio of adventurers that were clearly Mr Fireworks' target and sail impossibly over their heads to strike the upper floor of his shop.

The only PC up there is Astarion. Astarion, the rogue with Evasion, who can negate all damage from explosions by succeeding a Dex save.

The upper floor is the fireworks laboratory.

As the camera focuses and the smoke clears from the chain reaction of detonating firework crates, Astarion stands untouched and triumphant amid a pile of smouldering corpses. The remaining cultists burn feebly at his feet. So do the few unlucky guards who had made it upstairs. Avery, understandably stricken at the realisation that he has murdered his own staff and is winning worst boss of the year, runs into the corner and stands facing the wall.

We take out the few remaining employees, and I instruct Astarion to begin looting bodies. Immediately, a Flaming Fist guard sprints through the door to the shop, dashes past the multiple lightning-struck, radiant-flame-scorched, elemental-fist-pulverised corpses now lining the stairs, past the blood-covered adventurers on the landing, and attempts to arrest Astarion for theft.

Astarion, with a dozen bodies crumbling to cinders behind him, insists that the vial of deadly poison he's clutching was his to begin with, and that he wouldn't have had to steal it back if the guard would just get better at her job. He rolls a natural 20 on deception. Chastened, the guard relents.

We exit the firework shop. Not a single hit point has been lost.

#bg3 #baldur's gate 3 #this might be my favourite series of events so far.#sky plays bg3 #astarion #bg3 spoilers

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avocado-writing · 1 year ago

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Could I request headcanons for Astarion, Gale, Wyll, Halsin, Dammon, Rolan, and Zevlor react to his gn crush who is so oblivious that they told him with confidence that no one would be interested in them romantically?

yes of course lovely, it’s always a pleasure writing your prompt lists 😊💕

Astarion

definitely thinks you’re joking at first.

laughs, then sees the defeated lag of your shoulders, the way you can’t tear your gaze from the ground.

wants to do his usual blasé retort, but is torn because well. he really cares for you.

I think, after a moment of silence, he reaches out and takes your hand. threads his fingers through yours.

“darling… there is so much of you to love, it’s mesmerising.”

he can’t look at you while he admits this of course, but he feels the way you squeeze his hand in yours and his dead heart skips a beat. 💕

Gale

utterly baffled.

of course someone would love you romantically?

from a practical point of view he just starts listing things off: you’re kind, a good leader, big-hearted, have a strong moral compass…

and then he just lapses into the things he likes about you.

that you’re so lovely. so good-looking. that your hair is nice and your eyes are spellbinding.

only realises he’s gone off on a tangent when he sees you grinning at him, then gets a little embarrassed…

gives you the confidence to press a kiss to his cheek though, and after that he’s beaming for the whole day 🥰

Wyll

shocked. shocked and appalled that you think that way about yourself.

takes you out for a stroll, just the two of you, and ends up waxing lyrical about all the things you have going for you.

he tries not to turn it into a confession but my man is a romantic, and soon he ends up spilling everything.

the way every time you smile at him his heart speeds up and his cheeks get hot. how you deserve someone who’ll be by your side through everything, and he’s not afraid to be that someone despite everything you’ve faced on the road.

he’d keep going if you didn’t muster up your courage and pull him into a long kiss 💕

Halsin

is old enough to understand self-doubt doesn’t just go away in one day. he’s admired you for a while so he tries to start actively courting you.

little gifts appear for you. carvings of your favourite animals, flowers you’ve mentioned liking the perfume of.

he finds a reason to be by your side every day. always tries to make you smile and laugh.

and eventually you realise… oh, what you believed before? about nobody ever feeling romantic love towards you? that was totally wrong. because there is your Druid and you’ve just realised his heart is totally devoted to you.

when you have this moment you immediately run to find him and throw yourself into his arms rom-com style lmfao ❤️

Dammon

“that’s… that’s not true! there would be plenty of people who’d love you.”

you look up into his eyes. they’re soft and sweet, and there’s a desperation behind them as the words come tumbling out of his mouth, too late to stop them.

“I’d love you. I do love you.”

a moment passes. he’s worried he’s messed up.

then you stride across the room to bring him into a kiss and his face gets hot enough to rival his forge… 🔥

Rolan

”don’t be so foolish.”

you’re utterly gobsmacked, because you were being so vulnerable, admitting your worry. “excuse me?!”

he tries to backtrack and make it look like he didn’t just insult you, lol

”there’s nothing wrong with you. you’re… wonderful. anyone would be lucky to have you.”

cheeks a bright crimson, and he’s so bad at hiding his emotions that you clock what this is instantly. it’s a confession.

“oh…” “don’t worry, forget it, I didn’t say anything—!” “rolan, would you like to get a drink tonight?”

he might combust. but he squeaks out a “yes.” because honestly? he was worried about the exact same thing you came to him to confide…

Zevlor

is firm in how silly you’re being, but kind.

holds your face in your hands to get you to look at him.

swears how lovely you are, his words like a pledge. like a prayer.

and when this paladin tells you all this? how could you believe him to be wrong.

maybe someone would love you romantically. gazing into his warm eyes, maybe someone does.

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moonselune · 7 months ago

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Even a crumb more of the Dark!BG3 Found You, me lord, if it pleases you?

It does please me, it pleases me very much

─── ⋅ ∙ ∘ ☽ ༓ ☾ ∘ ⋅ ⋅ ───

Dark!BG3 | Found you ! (Only Just)

─── ⋅ ∙ ∘ ☽ ༓ ☾ ∘ ⋅ ⋅ ───

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

─── ⋅ ∙ ∘ ☽ ༓ ☾ ∘ ⋅ ⋅ ───

CW: Controlling, manipulation, murder, arson, coercion

─── ⋅ ∙ ∘ ☽ ༓ ☾ ∘ ⋅ ⋅ ───

Your lover has you cornered, let them relish in these moments

Prequel to this

─── ⋅ ∙ ∘ ☽ ༓ ☾ ∘ ⋅ ⋅ ───

Conqueror Minthara:

Minthara stood in the shadows of the forest, hidden from view, her eyes locked on the small, secluded village that had become your refuge. She had spent months searching for you, her rage simmering just beneath the surface. The news of your location had come from a reliable source, and she had wasted no time in assembling her soldiers and setting out to reclaim what was hers.

The village lay before her like a tranquil painting, a stark contrast to the chaos and bloodshed of the Underdark that she was accustomed to. The sight of you, kneeling in the garden, your hands deep in the earth, made her blood boil with a mix of fury and dark satisfaction. You were blissfully unaware, completely absorbed in the simple act of tending to the plants, a stark reminder of the life you had abandoned.

Minthara's grip tightened around the hilt of her sword as she watched you. You looked different, softer somehow, as if the months spent away from her had dulled the edges of the person you once were. She hated and relished it at the same time. You had no right to this peace, to this semblance of a normal life, not after everything you had shared and everything she had given you.

"Foolish," she murmured to herself, her voice barely a whisper. "Did you really think you could escape me?"

She took a step forward, her presence as silent and deadly as a shadow. The soldiers behind her remained still, awaiting her command. She was in no rush; the moment was too perfect, too filled with delicious anticipation. She wanted to savor this, to relish the look of shock and fear that would undoubtedly cross your face when you realized you were trapped.

Minthara watched as you paused in your work, wiping the sweat from your brow, your gaze lifting to take in the serenity of the village around you. A small smile played on your lips, a smile that made her stomach churn with a dark, possessive rage. That smile should be for her, should be shared in the moments of conquest and power, not in this pathetic, mundane existence.

She could see the villagers in the distance, going about their lives, completely oblivious to the storm that was about to descend upon them. It was almost too easy, the way they had accepted you into their fold, taken you in, and allowed you to forget who you truly were. Minthara's fingers twitched with the desire to lash out, to make them pay for their naivety and for the comfort they had provided you.

Her eyes returned to you, and she felt a surge of dark satisfaction. You would see soon enough. You would remember. She would make sure of it.

With a final, decisive nod to her soldiers, Minthara stepped out of the shadows, her eyes never leaving you. The screams started almost immediately as her soldiers spread through the village, ruthless and efficient in their destruction. Houses were set ablaze, and those who resisted were cut down without mercy.

─── ⋅ ∙ ∘ ☽ ༓ ☾ ∘ ⋅ ⋅ ───

Mother Superior Shadowheart:

Shadowheart moved silently through the dense forest, her senses honed and her steps light, barely disturbing the underbrush. The wretched moon hung high in the sky, casting an eerie glow over the landscape, illuminating her path just enough to keep her quarry in sight.

She had been tracking you for months, her anger and possessiveness growing with each passing day. The betrayal she felt was a sharp blade that twisted in her heart, and she was determined to bring you back, no matter the cost.

She stopped at the edge of a small clearing, her eyes narrowing as she spotted the hidden cave where you had taken refuge. The entrance was barely visible, obscured by a curtain of vines and shadows. A twisted smile curved her lips as she realized how close she was to reclaiming what was hers. You had been a fool to think you could hide from her.

Stepping back into the cover of the trees, she knelt on the forest floor, her hands coming together in a gesture of prayer. Her eyes closed, and she began to murmur an incantation, her voice a soft whisper that carried through the still night air.

"Dark Lady, Mistress of Loss, I offer you my gratitude and my devotion. You have guided me to this moment, to the place where my wayward love hides. Grant me your strength and your power, so that I may reclaim what is mine and teach them the folly of their defiance."

As she prayed, she felt the familiar surge of Shar's power flowing through her, a cold, dark energy that filled her with purpose and resolve. The shadows around her seemed to deepen, and the moonlight grew dim, as if Shar herself was answering her plea.

"Thank you, Mistress," Shadowheart whispered, her eyes snapping open, now glowing with an unnatural light. "I will not fail you."

Rising to her feet, she moved with renewed determination, her steps guided by the dark energy that pulsed within her. She approached the cave entrance, her presence a silent, oppressive force that seemed to make the very air grow colder.

Inside the cave, you were sound asleep, unaware of the danger that loomed so close. Shadowheart paused for a moment, her eyes drinking in the sight of you, peaceful and vulnerable. The sight stirred something within her, a twisted blend of love and rage. How dare you leave her? How dare you think you could find peace without her?

She moved forward, her movements as silent as a shadow, until she was standing over you. Her cold hand reached out, covering your mouth before you could scream, her grip firm and unyielding.

─── ⋅ ∙ ∘ ☽ ༓ ☾ ∘ ⋅ ⋅ ───

God of Ambition Gale:

Gale stood in his divine realm, high above the mortal plane, his eyes fixed on a single point far below. From this vantage, he could see everything—every movement, every flicker of light and shadow. His gaze was locked onto you, hidden in the sanctity of your quarters, blissfully unaware of the doom that had been set into motion. The celestial surroundings of his domain shimmered with an ethereal light, but his focus was unwavering.

A smile curved his lips, a blend of satisfaction and anticipation. He had achieved what few could even dream of—bending the will of a goddess. Selûne, the Moonmaiden, had been reluctant at first, her affection for her chosen followers evident in every word, every gesture. But Gale's threat had been clear, his resolve unshakable. The lives of her beloved daughters, the Selûnite priestesses, hung in the balance. In the end, even a goddess could be coerced when the stakes were high enough.

The memory of their confrontation played out in his mind, a triumph that fueled his ambition. He had approached Selûne in her celestial domain, his power radiating like a dark star. Her refusal had been strong, her protection over you absolute. But Gale had known how to break her resolve.

"Release them," he had said, his voice a commanding echo that reverberated through the heavens. "Or I will ensure that every one of your little Aasimars perishes in agony. Their screams will be the hymn of your failure."

Selûne's eyes had flashed with anger and sorrow, but in the end, she had yielded. She may have been an old god of great power, but she was a wise one. The pact she had made with you, granting you sanctuary and protection, was severed with a single, reluctant nod. The divine shield that had kept you safe from Gale's grasp dissolved, leaving you vulnerable once more.

Now, as he looked down upon you, his heart swelled with a dark, possessive joy. You were so close, so tantalizingly within his reach. The thought of reclaiming you, of binding you once more to his side, sent a thrill through him that even his godly power couldn't match.

"You think you can hide," he murmured to the silence, his voice a deep, resonant whisper. "You think you can find peace without me. But you belong to me, and there is no place you can go that I cannot find."

With a wave of his hand, he summoned a vision of you, an illusion that hung in the air before him, granting him more detail of yourself that looking down upon you could not. You were tending to your quarters, the mundane act filled with an innocent grace that made his heart ache with longing. How unaware you were of the storm that was about to descend upon you.

Gale reached out, his fingers brushing the illusionary image of your face. The vision shimmered and dissolved at his touch, and he felt a surge of possessive need. He couldn't wait any longer. The time had come to bring you back to where you belonged.

A portal opened before him, a swirling vortex of dark energy that connected his realm to the mortal plane. He stepped through, his godly form shrinking and adapting to the confines of the human world. As he emerged into the night, the air around him crackled with residual power, the very ground seeming to tremble in anticipation of his arrival.

As he approached your quarters, he could feel the last remnants of Selûne's protection fading, the final barriers crumbling under the weight of his will. He stood outside, his eyes glowing with the intensity of his divine power, his smile widening as he sensed your presence just beyond the door.

"You think you're safe," he whispered, his voice a dark promise. "But you are mine, and I will have you."

With a single, decisive movement, he stepped into your quarters, the moonlight casting a silvery glow over the room. The chill in the air, the sense of foreboding—it all made perfect sense now. The predator had found his prey, and there was no escape.

─── ⋅ ∙ ∘ ☽ ༓ ☾ ∘ ⋅ ⋅ ───

Ascended Astarion:

The night was thick with the scent of rain-soaked earth and distant wood smoke as Astarion approached the tavern. His steps were deliberate, his eyes glowing faintly with the predatory hunger that had come to define him. The tavern door swung open with a creak, and the cacophony of revelry hit him like a wave. The noise, the heat, the press of bodies—it all would have overwhelmed a lesser being, but Astarion was not so easily deterred.

He glided through the room with a grace that belied his purpose, his gaze sweeping the crowd until it landed on the bartender, a burly man with a grizzled beard and a worn apron. Astarion approached the bar, leaning in with a charming smile that revealed the slightest hint of his elongated canines.

"Good evening," Astarion said, his voice smooth as silk. "I was hoping you could help me with a small matter."

The bartender looked up, his eyes narrowing slightly as he took in Astarion's immaculate appearance and the aura of otherworldly confidence that surrounded him.

"What can I do for you?" he asked, wiping his hands on a rag.

Astarion leaned closer, lowering his voice to a conspiratorial whisper. "I'm looking for someone. A woman. She frequents this place. She has a certain... presence about her. Have you seen her?"

The bartender's expression shifted to one of curiosity and wariness. "I might have. What's she to you?"

Astarion's smile widened, his eyes flashing with dark amusement. "Let's just say I'm a concerned party. She's been running from something, or someone, and I need to find her."

The bartender's eyes flickered with recognition. "Aye, I know who you mean. Comes in when we're packed to the rafters. Keeps to herself mostly, but I've seen her. She's running away from some deranged lover, or so she says."

Astarion laughed, a rich, velvety sound that sent a shiver through the bartender. "Is that what she told you? How amusing."

The bartender's brow furrowed. "You know her, then?"

Astarion's expression shifted, the laughter fading to a cold, predatory intensity. "Intimately," he replied. "You see, that deranged lover she speaks of would be me."

The bartender's eyes widened in horror, but before he could react, Astarion's hand shot out, gripping the man's wrist with an ironclad hold. "Now tell me everything you know about her."

Under the compulsion of Astarion's dark power, the bartender's resistance crumbled. His voice was a strained whisper as he revealed the details he knew—the times you frequented the tavern, the way you seemed to blend into the crowd, the fragments of conversation he had managed to glean from you.

"Thank you," Astarion said, his voice a dangerous purr. "You've been most helpful. Now, be a good lad and drown yourself in that keg."

With a flick of his wrist, Astarion compelled the bartender to drown himself in the nearest keg. The man's eyes glazed over, and he turned mechanically, walking towards the large barrel of ale at the end of the bar. As he began to submerge himself, Astarion turned away, his focus now entirely on you.

─── ⋅ ∙ ∘ ☽ ༓ ☾ ∘ ⋅ ⋅ ───

Naturist Halsin:

The forest was alive with whispers, the gentle rustle of leaves, and the soft calls of nocturnal creatures. Halsin sat cross-legged in a secluded glade, deep in meditation. The moonlight filtering through the canopy cast an ethereal glow around him, enhancing his already imposing presence. He had become a figure of legend and fear, his crusade to restore the natural world to its primal state leaving a trail of destruction in its wake.

A sudden flutter of wings broke the stillness. Halsin opened his eyes, their deep green hue glinting in the moonlight. A small bird, a nightingale, landed gracefully on his outstretched hand, its tiny eyes filled with urgency. Halsin listened intently as the bird chirped and sang, conveying its message in the language of the wild.

"You've seen her," Halsin murmured, a note of hope breaking through his usually stern demeanor. "She's on the outskirts of the forest."

The bird chirped affirmatively, and Halsin's brooding expression melted into something softer, something resembling bliss. He gently stroked the bird's feathers. "Thank you, little friend. You've done well."

As the bird flew away, Halsin rose to his feet, a determined look replacing the softness. He moved through the forest with the fluid grace of a predator, his senses attuned to the sounds and scents around him. The trees seemed to bend and part in his wake, acknowledging their master.

He reached the edge of the forest, his keen eyes spotting the caravan in the distance. Halsin crouched in the underbrush, watching intently as the wagon bumbled along the uneven path. He could see the small figure of the old attendant sitting at the reins, oblivious to the danger lurking nearby. His gaze shifted to the back of the wagon, where he knew you would be hiding.

A faint smile tugged at Halsin's lips as he murmured to himself, "I knew you would come back to me eventually. The city was never your true home. You belong here, with me."

His heart swelled with a twisted sense of joy. The thought of you returning to his side, of reclaiming what he believed was rightfully his, filled him with a dark satisfaction. He moved silently through the shadows, positioning himself just ahead of the caravan's path.

As the wagon drew nearer, Halsin's anticipation grew. He watched the attendant slow the horses, likely puzzled by the sudden stillness in the air. The old man dismounted and began to walk towards the front of the wagon, his steps cautious but unhurried.

Halsin stepped out from the trees, his massive form emerging from the darkness like a vengeful spirit. The attendant froze, his eyes widening in terror as he took in the sight of the druid-turned-extremist.

"Who are you?" the old man stammered, his voice trembling.

Halsin's smile was cold and predatory. "You don't need to know my name. Your part in this story ends here, but you have played your role beautifully."

With a swift, brutal motion, Halsin grabbed the attendant by the throat, lifting him off the ground effortlessly. The old man's scream was cut short by a sickening crunch as Halsin's grip tightened, snapping his neck. He dropped the lifeless body to the ground, his attention now fully focused on the wagon.

He approached the back of the wagon, his heart pounding with a mix of anticipation and longing. The door creaked open under his touch, and he peered inside, his eyes finding you instantly. You were huddled in the corner, your face a mask of fear and exhaustion.

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samiswifey · 1 year ago

Text

Unlovable

Parings: Sam Carpenter x Fem!Reader

Warning: negative thoughts, low self worth, sad Sam

Summary: since Sam was a child she's always felt unlovable, like she was never worthy of anyone's love. It's always been something that has stuck with her.

It's been a couple of months since Tara told Sam to let her go and Sam has done just that. She slowly left the core four and began hanging out with them less and less, until she wasn't hanging around at all. She was taking Tara's words to heart and was letting her go. She was backing off and letting Tara live her life. Her life.

So Sam backed away and began doing her own thing. She still sees Tara but she's not always around her like she was before that conversation. She's giving Tara her space and trying to find things that she likes, find her own hobbies. Live her own life instead of her sister's.

For the last few weeks Sam has found herself in a nightclub just sitting alone watching the people dance, drink and have a good time. She unfortunately couldn't relate because she wasn't having a good time. She was alone, in a bar, getting drunk by herself. How much more pathetic can you get? She thought to herself, taking a small sip of her drink.

"Hello."

The voice caught Sam's attention over the loud music and she turned to find the person they voice belongs to. She soon found the voice when she locked with a pair of kind eyes.

"Hi," her voice wavered as she spoke and she quickly straightened herself out. "Can I help you?" She asked.

You smiled as you sat next to her. "I have seen you sitting alone for a week now and I finally decided to come over and talk to you." You said. "I'm Y/N."

Sam looks at you with on expression on her face as her grip on her cup gets tighter. Her body Tensed as she straightens out a bit more. "That's nice of you but I would really like to be alone right now." She said. You immediately got the hint and stood up. "I'll leave but I really hope to see you tomorrow." You said kindly. "Bye."

Hours after the encounter Sam couldn't stop thinking about you. She felt shitty for pushing you away, but she was protecting herself. Due to recent events she couldn't trust anyone, so in order to protect herself she began pushing everyone away because she couldn't risk getting herself or anyone she cares about hurt. She just had to br safe and think smart.

Getting up Sam ran her fingers through her hair and stretched slightly before leaving the bar. It was well passed three and she knew that Tara and Gale would be fast asleep so she could sneak in without being bombarded with questioned from the two of them. She could sneak in and sleep before she had to wake up at six and leave for work. She's avoiding her problems.

Walking inside slowly Sam breathed a sigh of relief when she noticed that it was dark in the apartment. Nobody was up. It was safe for her to go to bed and then repeat this same thing tomorrow. And the day after. And the say after that until it becomes routine.

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As the weeks passed Sam's routine continued. She was barely around anymore and when she was she sat back and let everyone else talk around her. She was withdrawn and deep in her dark thoughts that she didn't hear what was being said to her. She was completely gone.

Back in the bar Sam was sipping on her one drink as she sat by herself and just let her thoughts consume her. She was back to feeling numb like when she was thirteen and she found out about her biological father. She didn't care about much these days but she still tried to come off fairly normal during the day. She kept her problems to herself so she wouldn't come off weird to anyone. Nobody had to know what she was feeling or going through.

"Hello again."

The voice made her look up and lock with familiar eyes. "Y/N what are you doing here again?" Her voice was void of any emotion when Sam spoke. You smiled as you took your seat next to her. "Just wanted to say hi. I hate seeing you sit alone." You said. Sam kept her guard up as she faced you. "You can stay this once because I'm sick of drinking alone." She says. You smiled "cool." You said as you put your drink down.

"It's Sam, you know."

You looked at her. "Pardon?" Sam sits up a little but still kept her arms around herself. "Sam. My name is Sam." She said. You smiled "yeah, I know. You still have your name badge on." You said with a small chuckle. Sam rolled her eyes at herself because she actually forgot about that.

"If you knew why didn't you say anything?" She asked.

You shrugged as you sat back. "I didn't think you wanted me to know, so I kept my mouth shut until you decided to tell me." You said. "So you just sit with a stranger who's name you do not know and you think that's safe?" Sam asked. "Are you some kind of killer?"

You laughed at that and turned to face her. "Not a killer, but, I am very optimistic that we can be friends." You said happily. Sam wanted nothing more than to hate your optimism but she couldn't. She felt oddly comfortable with your friendly disposition. It was nice.

As the time became three o'clock Sam slowly stood up and grabbed her bag. She turns to you. "Maybe I'll see you the next time I'm here." She said. You smiled at her. "You definitely will."

As Sam walks home she keeps her hands in her pocket as she enjoyed the short walk through the city. It was a nice night out and this walk had her thinking about you. It was strange feeling happy (or at least relaxed) by another person's presence. Your kindness was something that Sam really needs right now, even it she doesn't know that she does.

Walking inside quietly Sam placed her bag down and slowly headed towards her room. Tonight had been a lot more eventful then previous nights at the bar. She actually had fun just drinking and talking to you that she forgot about everything she felt before you showed up. Tonight had her thinking about a lot of things that she wanted to change.

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Two months had passed and things with Sam took a nose dive. She tried hanging out with Chad, Mindy and Tara again but was immediately shut down by her younger sister. Tara had basically told her that she didn't want Sam hanging around them and the last few months without her was great. She could live her life without having Sam hover over her.

So, Sam backs off again and steps away from the group. She tried to right her wrongs but got horribly burned in the process. She started keeping to herself more and even when she got her promotion at her job she didn't tell anyone. She doesn't think anyone would care anyway, so why tell them anything about her life.

Tonight was a bit different from her usual nights spent at the bar. Tonight she was invited out to a nice restaurant and she didn't know why. All you said was dress nice and be there by nine. She did all of that but was still feeling very anxious about what you had in mind for tonight. She wanted to be optimistic like you but her over thinking kept her from doing that.

"Hello Sam."

Sam looks up and was met with flowers in her face. She smiled as she gently takes them from you. "Thank you? But what is this for?" She asked curiously. "I heard about your promotion from Kirby and wanted to do something nice for you to celebrate. So I decided to take you out to dinner and buy you flowers." You said. "Just wanted to do something nice for you."

Sam couldn't stop the small grin the forms on her lips as she looks at you. If Sam didn't keep her emotions in a locked box in the deepest part of her heart, she would have cried right now. This was one of the nicest things anyone has ever done for her. It was sweet and made her day way better because she wasn't expecting this. Especially not from someone she met only two months ago. This was nice.

Dinner was the most fun Sam has had in months now. This was the first time she was actually able to relax, breathe and just have fun. She didn't want to put all her eggs in your basket, but it felt like the only logical thing to do considering you were the first person to make her relax. You made her comfortable and she wasn't willing to give that up just yet.

"How do you feel about getting ice cream after this?" You asked.

Sam smiles a little, reaching to tuck her hair behind her ear. "I - that sounds like a great idea." She said softly, voice barley above a whisper. Your smile grew wider as you paid for the dinner. "Tonight is about to get a whole lot more fun."

Walking into the ice cream shop you held Sam's hand as you guys decided what you wanted. Sam got lost in her thoughts as she looks over each flavor and remembered how her mom took ice cream away from her because Christina deemed that ice cream was for good kids only and she was a bad kid. A very bad kid.

"Sam did you know what you wanted?"

Sam blinks twice and looks over at you as she nodded. "Yeah, I'll just take a vanilla cone." She muttered softly. You could tell that something was wrong because of how withdrawn Sam became. You noticed that when she's like this her hands immediately go into her pockets and she lowers her gaze to the floor and refuses to make eye contact with anyone. Sam had a real easy tell when she was upset about something.

Once the ice cream was ordered things went back to being fun. You smiled at the fact that Sam would laugh at your lame jokes. Sam's eyes sparkled as she looks at you, a gentle smile gracing her lips. "I've had a lot of fun tonight Y/N." She said softly. You relaxed when she said that and smiled. "Me too Sam. Me too."

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The next few months passed by quickly and Sam started introducing you to her friend group. Her family. They were all nice but you could feel that Tara didn't care for you. That she was very cold and distant towards you so you kept your distance as well. Never rude and always polite you kept your distance in hopes that she would eventually warm up to you. It might take a while but you were willing to wait. She was Sam's world after all.

Sam sat next to you on the couch and watched as you engaged with Mindy about horror movies. She found it endearing how easily you could talk to people and engage in conversation. She knew you were smart but it really spoke volumes about how easily you could go with the flow of a conversation and how people absolutely loved talking to you because conversations with you were fun. However you messed up with one simple sentence.

"Sammy come join us."

Tara was red hot in seconds as she turns and glares at you. "Do not call her that ever! That's my nickname for her!" She screamed with such anger as she stood up to tower over you. "Mine!"

Sam was confused and gently pushed herself between you and Tara with her hands up. "Tara, relax. She didn't know." She says. Tara was blinded by angry and lashed out. "So that makes it ok!? You ignore me for five years and now you think it's ok to let some random stranger use my nickname for you! How could you be so heartless Samantha?" She screamed. "You are doing this to hurt me!"

Sam flinched back at the use of her full name. She hasn't been called that name since she left home five years ago and hearing it now made her think of Christina and everything she said to her after she found the diary. The name was a trigger and Sam's wall immediately went up as she backed away from Tara.

"I'm not doing this to hurt you Tara. I just thought you wouldn't care." Sam paused for a moment. "You haven't called me that since before I left. I didn't know it meant so much to you." She said honestly. "I didn't know it mattered."

Tara looked at her with flashes of anger and disappointment and hurt in her eyes. "Of course you didn't think, you never do Samantha. I mean you left with such ease before that when you do leave this time I won't be surprised. I mean that's what you do, you leave without any regards for anyone's feelings," she hissed. "So leave Sam. I really don't care anymore."

Sam quickly put her hands in her pockets as she tried to keep herself from falling apart in front of everyone. She stood straight up and looked Tara in the eyes. "I'm not leaving again Tara. I know I didn't handle things perfectly before but I promise you I'm not leaving." She said. Tara looks her in the eyes with nothing but coldness and spoke. "Your promises mean nothing anymore."

For the last two hours you have spent looking for Sam. After what Tara said Sam ran out of the apartment and you immediately went after her. Unfortunately she was very fast on her feet and you lost her before you even got the chance to calm her down and talk with her.

So you searched all over the city looking for Sam. It took you another thirty minutes to find her at the bar you first met. You said nothing as you sat next to her and looked at her. She had her arms wrapped tightly around herself and she was once again hiding her hands. She had tears falling from her eyes and her nose was slightly red. You felt heartbroken over how hurt Sam really was after her fight with Tara.

"Sam."

She slowly looks at you but made no effort to move closer to you. She kept her distance this time and that's when you knew that her walls were back up again. "You shouldn't be here Y/N. You should go home and be around people who aren't going to hurt you." She says. "I'm just going to hurt you."

As badly as you wanted to hug and hold her you kept your distance but turned to face her. "You're not going to hurt me Sam. I trust you and can see that you would never hurt me." You said.

"But how do you know," Sam deadpans quickly. "How are you so sure that I won't hurt you. I've hurt everyone I have ever known and it's only a matter of time before I hurt you." She said with defeat evident in her voice. "You shouldn't cut your losses now and leave me. Save yourself."

A sixty inch thick wall was hard to break through but you were determined to make Sam understand that you're not leaving her and she isn't going to hurt you. So you sat up straight and looked at Sam, although she wasn't looking at you, you knew she was still listening to you.

"Sam, I am here to stay. I'm your friend and friends don't leave their friends when we're needed the most. And you need me right now." You tell her. "I'm here for you."

Sam had tears just falling from her eyes as she hung her head low and you knew that she actually heard you. Placing a kind hand on her shoulder you moved closer when she didn't reject your touch. You let your arms wrap around her shoulders and hug her gently as she continued letting the tears fall. You could tell that she really needs this right now.

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Sam was sat next to you listening as you went on about your day and how tired you were of your job at the paper. She listened as you told her that you loved writing but felt as if you weren't being taken seriously. She heard you say that you wanted to do more but wasn't sure where to start. So she made a suggestion.

"I think maybe it's time to level up in your career." She said quietly. 'Only if you're ready for that," she adds quickly.

You immediately tackled her in a bear hug. "That's an amazing idea! Thank you Sam." You said happily, with over enthusiasm. Sam smiled a little as she hugs you back. "Ok."

Sitting next to Sam you smiled at her. She wasn't doing anything particularly interesting but you liked how calm she was right now. This was the most relaxed she has been in weeks and you liked seeing this side of her. So you decided to take your chance and ask her something you've been wanting to ask since you met Sam.

"Will you go out with me?" You asked. "Like on a date," you added shyly.

Sam looks at you with blank eyes. Her mind was running a mile a minute as she tried hard to process what you just said. This wasn't the first time she's been asked out but it was the one time that she really wanted it. She likes you, but she still doesn't believe that she's capable of giving you the love you deserve. She's scared.

"Sam?"

She blinks twice before focusing on you and taking immediate notice of the look in your eyes. She relaxed a bit and decided to be honest with you. "I like you and I would like to go on a date with you, but I'm scared. I'm scared that I'm going to hurt you and I don't want that." She says softly. "I really don't want that."

You took her hands in yours as you looked her in the eyes. "I think you need to give yourself a break and stop thinking the worst of you. Sam, you are amazing! You're a wonderful person and I will tell you everyday for the rest of my life if I have to because you are amazing Sam." You said. "A lot more than you think."

Sam took you up on your offer and went on a date with you. She had fun but she was still very fearful of herself. You were special to her but she still feared that she might hurt you. Even though you told her she wouldn't Sam just couldn't believe it. She hurt someone she really loved before and it terrifies her that she could do it again. Never intentional, but the fears there.

"I'm having a really good time Sam." You said.

Sam smiles as she looks at you. "I really like you Y/N, I do. However I'm not ready for the next step, yet." She tells you. You nodded as you take her hand and gently rub her knuckles. "Sam, after my last relationship I'm not ready to jump right into another one but I am willing to take things slow with you and see where it takes us." You said. Sam agreed with that. "Me too."

Even though the date ended early you two were still hanging out together. You got Sam to show you places she goes when she just needs alone time when things become too much for her. She explains the reason why she goes there and you completely understood her.

"Why do you run away when things get rough?" You asked.

Sam looks at you for a second before looking forward. "When Christina would get mad at me it was easier to run and hide then to stay and fight an already losing battle," she sighs as she shakes her head. "Talking never worked so I learned to just leave because then it would all stop. At least for a moment." She explains. You understand where she was coming from and locked your fingers with her. She smiled at you before looking forward again and sitting in a peaceful silence together.

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Your new job had you tied with Gale and meeting her was very interesting. She was very professional, kind of sassy, but still nice. She tested your knowledge on things and seemed very impressed by your work at the newspaper. She could tell that you had talent and was definitely willing to give you the job. However what she said next caught you off guard.

"She's a great girl you know." She said.

You looked at the older women. "Pardon?" You asked. Gale smiles "Sam. She's rough around the edges but she's a real great person." She tells you. You nodded at that because you already knew that. "I know. I just wish she knew that." You said. Gale agreed with that. "Me too. You start on Monday." She said easily. You wanted to hug Gale but held back and stayed professional. "Thank you Ms Weathers."

After your interview you ran straight to Sam to tell her the good news. However you slowed down when you remembered that she was still at work for the next few hours. So instead you decided to treat yourself to a coffee and a cupcake for getting your dream job. You couldn't wait to tell Sam.

Time ticked away slowly until it was time to finally leave. Sam was pretty exhausted after today but she ignored it because she was excited to know how your interview went and if you got the job. So on her way home she got a coffee and texted you to meet at her apartment because she wants to know about your day.

Meeting at the apartment you smiled wide when you saw Sam walking towards you. You could tell that she was tired but you knew that she wanted to hear about your day which is why she has a coffee in her hand.

"So how did everything go?" She asked.

You couldn't hold your excitement in any more and just blurts it out. "Gale gave me the job!" You practically screamed as you walked inside. Sam was proud of you. "See I knew you would get it. Your work is good Y/N." She said. You melted at her compliment as a heartwarming smile forms on your lips. "Thank you so much."

The rest of the gang came home so it was no longer just you and Sam. It was you, Sam, Mindy, Chad and Tara all sitting in the living room. Tara still didn't like you after the nickname debacle and basically ignored you the whole time. Chad and Mindy, however, treated you like one of the group and that made you feel a little less on edge the rest of the night.

Sam sat a little off to the side and watched as you interacted with her family. These were people she loved and seeing how you got along with them was something that she took note of. It seemed so easy for you to just entwine yourself into her group without really having to do much. People just liked you (with the exception of Tara) and she likes that because it shows how good of a person you are. Then things became tense.

"What do you think of the stab movies?" Tara asked coldly.

Sam, Chad and Mindy immediately tensed up as you looked over at the younger girl. You tilted your head with a confused expression on your face. "I don't know? I've never seen them or heard of them." You said softly. Tara laughs as she sits up and turns to face you head on.

"Are you actually kidding me right now? You have never heard of Stab before? Everyone has heard of Stab!" She screams. "It's based off true event involving Sam's father Billy Loomis."

You took note of how the room changed and how Sam froze with wide eyes and her jaw dropped at what Tara just said. Chad and Mindy communicated with only their eyes and you could tell that something wasn't right. Something was being kept from you. And you just had to ask.

"Who's Billy Loomis?"

Sam lowers her eyes as she puts her hands in her pockets. "He was one of the killers from the Woodsboro massacre. Gale wrote about it." She said quietly. "Who is my biological father," she added in a scared voice. You were still confused and didn't really understand what was being said to you, but this didn't push you away.

"I don't understand what's going on or what Stab even means but I'm not mad Sam. I don't blame you for what this Billy guys did." You said. "It's not your fault."

Things had calmed down and went back to being easy going but you took notice of how Sam kept her hands hidden. You could tell that she wasn't completely relaxed so you gently placed a hand on her arm to let her know that everything was fine. You were still here for her no matter what. Nothing was said but you could tell that she appreciates it.

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As weeks passed by you and Sam went on a few more dates. Two were romantic dinners and one was a spontaneous day out together because you both had a day off and wanted to spend time together. Feelings were growing between you two but things were still taken slowly. Sam very obviously liked you and the same could be said about you with Sam. People took notice but didn't push because they wanted Sam to figure it out and tell you on her own. However you couldn't wait any longer.

"Sam can I please say something?" You asked.

Sam looks at you. "Of course Y/N." She said. "Is everything ok?" You nodded as you take her hand. "I know we agreed to go slow and I'm all for that but I can't hold back my feelings anymore," you paused for a second. "I like you Sam, I really do. I think you're great, you're smart and one of the most caring people I have ever met. I just can't keep this in anymore." You said. "I like you Sam."

The words didn't scare her off. Sam was completely relaxed as she listened to what you said to her and it gave her courage to tell you her feelings. "I like you too Y/N. I still want us to go slow but I'm way more comfortable telling you how I feel now." She said. "I like you Y/N."

With feelings out in the open things became serious between you two. You guys no longer hid your affection touches and you guys became more comfortable holding hands in front of the group. Everyone could see that you two obviously liked each other and they were actually all rooting for you two. They all liked your relationship together.

For a while now Sam has been thinking a lot about your relationship together. Nothing was officially but she was getting closer and closer to wanting to make it official with you. However she was still very insecure when it came to love. She's rarely ever felt it growing on. Yes Tara loved her, that never changed, but her parents didn't. Her dad left like it was the easiest thing to do and her mother was emotional abusive towards her. She still remembers every word ever said when her mother was drunk.

She still remembers being told at fifteen that she would never grow up to find love. How nobody could love someone like Sam ever. Everyone she ever meets will hate her the minute they find out her dark secret. How her presence alone will push people away from her, that she gives warning signs about staying away from her. But that was light work compared to what Christina said when she was sixteen.

"Sam, you are nothing but an unlovable mistake. Your presence alone will have people hating you with a firey passion. You are nothing but a worthless, good for nothing brat who nobody can love."

The sentence changed her whole life and made Sam feel so horrible that she became a shell of herself and began pushing everyone away until she could leave. She thought it would be better to leave then to feel everyone around her eventually stop loving her as time went on. She left to protect herself because she would have fallen apart if she watched people stop loving her. It was selfish but it was her only way.

"Sam."

The voice of her sister made Sam look over at her. Things were still tense with them that she wasn't sure what to expect from Tara. She gulps "yes Tara." She spoke softly. "Everything ok?" Tara steps forward with her eyes drawn down. "What is it about Y/N that has you wrapped around her finger? Why do you like her?" She asked harshly.

Sam smiled a little. "She's a very good person. She also really understands me, even when I don't understand myself. She's a great person with a beautiful soul." She said.

"Are you using her to replace me? Am I no longer good enough for you?" Tara asked tearfully.

Sam's wall came crumbling down when she saw the tears in Tara's eyes. "No. God, no Tara I'm not replacing you. I could never replace you. You're my sister and nothing is ever going to change that." She said. "I love you."

That caught Tara off guard because that was never said to her. Christina stopped caring when she was eight and her father left without even caring about how it would affect her. Sam was there but knowing that she pulled away made her feel like Sam too didn't like her. She's never felt love before.

"How do I even know if that's true? How can I trust you?" She asked.

Sam holds her hand. "Because I'm never going to leave you. No matter where life takes us I'm always going to be here for you even when I'm not here." She said. Tara heard her words loud and clear for the first time since she's been back, and only now does she believe her. "Thank you."

Meeting you at the bar where you guys first met Sam was nervous because she was about to lay it all out on the table. She no longer wanted to go slow, she wanted a label. She wanted to move forward in the relationship and she really hopes that's what you wanted as well.

"You wanted to talk." You said when you arrived.

Sam nodded as she straightens herself out. "Yes. I was hoping that we could talk about the next step in our relationship because I ready to move forward." She said. You looked at her with soft eyes. "Are you saying that you are ready to be my girlfriend?" She asked. Sam nodded with a smile. "I'm more than ready." She said. You smiled back as you took her hand. "Then let's make this official. Girlfriend." You said. Sam's smile grow at that. "Girlfriend."

#sam carpenter #sam carpenter x reader #tara carpenter #mindy meeks martin #chad meeks martin

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