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footprintsinthesxnd · 3 months

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hey girly! Idk if your requests are open but we neeeeeed something for bucky from mota. maybe something like enemies to lovers with a war nurse? thxxxx

A Second Chance

Thank you so much for your request anon. I’m so sorry it took so long. I feel that I may not have the skill set to write John Egan as well as other writers but I’m hoping that I can do him justice. Also two posts this weekend because why not.

John Egan was insufferable. Y/n had decided that from the moment she’d first met him, with his cocky smile, his stupid moustache, his bright eyes and… no he was just insufferable. She’d never met a man so full of himself that he gave his best friend the same nickname, and yet Gale Cleven seemed like the sweetest man on earth.

“You’re staring again,” Rosie chuckled, looking up from his battered book ‘Of Mice and Men’ with a cheeky smile.

“Yes with utter disgust, I mean look at him,” Y/n pointed, watching as Rosie glanced over at the Major who was currently leaning against the bar, flirting with the poor barmaid who seemed besotted with him. “He’d flirt with anything that moved.”

“Including you apparently,” Rosie chuckled, “Just admit that you aren’t a tiny bit jealous. I just want to hear you admit it.”

Y/n glared daggers at the pilot who was using his book to shield his smiling face. She lurched forward trying to smack him but he shoved the book at her.

“No, no, not the moustache again,” he shielded his hand over his mouth, eyes wide as he glared at her. She may have accidentally pulled his moustache once when they were arguing about the same Major and Rosie’s moustache had taken the hit.

“You know that was an accident.”

“Yes, but it’s never grown the same since,” he protested, stroking his facial hair thoughtfully. “You’re always moaning about Major Egan's moustache, I thought mine was a goner.”

Y/n sighed dramatically, slouching in her chair. She wondered if she should tell Rosie the real reason why she held such a grudge towards John Egan. That, however, would involve her confessing that she was madly in love with John.

Rosie’s eyes remained trained on his book and Y/n fought the urge to interrupt him again. Instead, she remained silent, thinking back to that night in June when the air in London had been close and hot, sticking to the sweat on her skin, the pale evening light casting shadows over the hotel room, the white sheets soft and comfortable, his embrace loving, his words kind and… all completely false.

Y/n hadn’t believed in love at first sight but seeing John Egan in his uniform, smirking at her across the crowded pub, something inside her had changed. He’d been effortlessly charming and she was eating out of his palm before the night was through.

John Egan had promised to visit her, promised he’d write, but several months passed and no letters came Y/n gave up, putting John behind her. That was until she had to report to Thorpe Abbott RAF base and ran into a particular Major.

John, however, seemed oblivious to their previous encounter, barely sending her a smile as he strolled passed with several other pilots by his side. From that day forward Y/n held a grudge against John Egan.

“Here we go…” Rosie mumbled under his breath, but before Y/n could ask what he meant a low hum came from behind her.

“Evening Rosie, Y/n,” John nodded to both of them, Gale Cleven by his side doing the same.

“Majors,” Rosie greeted them, placing his book down on the table.

“Major Cleven,” Y/n greeted Gale, her eyes avoiding the other Major. Gale glanced quizzically between the pair, before looking to Rosie for answers, but he only shrugged.

“Have I done something to offend you, Darling?” John smirked at her, leaning across the table, his moustache twitching at the corners. He had the same cocky air about him that he always wore but the added nickname just added fuel to the fire that was already burning.

Y/n snorted, “Do not think your presence has such an effect on me, Major. I’m afraid not every woman falls at your feet.”

Gale let a low whistle slip from his lips, but John just grinned, “Alright, I see someone’s a little jealous, didn’t realise I had an admirer.”

Y/n stood swiftly from her chair, rounding the table and jabbing her finger into John’s chest, “I am not jealous and why would I be? Why would I lower my standards to such an arrogant, self-centered man.” She removed her finger from his chest, turning on her heels and exiting the pub as fast as her legs would allow her.

Gale looked between Rosie and John, “Will someone please explain what just happened?”

Rosie shrugged, picking up his book and fumbling through the pages until he found his spot. John chuckled, “I think I may have offended her in some way, though I know not how.”

“You really think you offended her, huh?” Gale replied sarcastically, avoiding his friend's light shove with an amused laugh.

John truly did wonder what he’d done so wrong to offend her. He’d only known her a few months when she turned up on base dressed in her dress blues declaring she was newly assigned to Thorpe Abbott infirmary. He greeted her with a smile and she glared at him in response. From that day forward it had been an all-out war between the two of them.

Y/n had just finished tidying up the examination room when there was a light tap at the door, she called out ‘enter’, her back still turned to whoever it was.

“This is quite a nice place you’ve got here, Darling,” John declared, leaning against the doorframe, smiling devilishly.

Y/n sighed, instantly on the defensive, “What do you want, Major,” she emphasised his rank disdainfully, rolling her eyes as she continued to pack up the crate of dressings.

John hummed behind her, moving around the room until he was in front of her once more, “So…” he paused, craning his neck to try and catch her eye. “How are you finding life on base?”

That’s it, John, a nice simple question. She can’t get too offended by that, right?

Y/n all but tutted, shaking her head, “Life would be just fine, except a certain Major keeps ruining my day.” She shoved passed him, carrying the crate out of the room and down the corridor, her heels clicking against the tiled floor followed by a larger heavier footfall.

“Hey Darling, wait up. I hadn’t finished talking to you,” John protested, moving swiftly in front of her and stopping her movements.

“What?” She snapped this time, her patience wearing thin and the long list of jobs she had still playing on her mind.

John sighed, rubbing his hand down his face, “I just want to know what I did. I’ve barely said two words to you since you got here and somehow I’ve offended you. Whatever I’ve done I’m sorry, okay?” He didn’t mean to sound so exasperated but he wasn’t sure what more he could say.

Y/n watched him, her face faltering ever so slightly before the stoic expression returned. “The fact that you don’t remember makes all of this worse. I didn’t realise our night was so awful you pushed it from your mind. So much for ‘I’ll keep in touch’,” she spat, pushing the crate into him and moving on passed without a backward glance. She’d said her piece, he could do with that what he will.

John sat on the wing of Mugwump, his legs swinging in mid-air as he took a long swig from his hit flask. His mind still reeling from the afternoon's events as the guilt ate away at him.

He’d fished the letter out from his belongings, tracing over the return address. He should have realised her name was familiar, but then again he should have written her back.

John was still trying to piece together how he hadn’t realised it was her, but with the amount they’d both consumed he was surprised Y/n even remembered him. That still didn’t help clear his conscience.

“Bucky, you up there,” Gale called, glancing around the plane until he noticed the pair of legs hanging from the wing. “What are you doing?”

“I messed up Gale,” John mumbled, taking another drink. He was always impressed by how much whiskey his hot flask could hold and he was starting to feel a nice warm sensation as it flowed around his body.

“What have you done?” Gale asked, hoisting himself up the ladder and onto the wing beside John. He offered Gale his hit flask but the other pilot shook his head, waiting for his friend’s explanation.

“Do you remember that night I had in London a few months ago? When I said I met this amazing woman and we had a wonderful night together, she wanted me to write to her and she wrote me a letter and I never replied,” John rambled, his tongue becoming looser as the alcohol flowed. “Well, that’s Y/n, the nurse on base. It’s the same woman, Gale.”

Gale nodded, processing his friend's confession, “Well at least now we know why she’s so angry at you all the time, you were a total ass.”

John rolled his eyes glaring at Gale, “Thanks Buck, that’s really helpful.” Groaning, John pushed himself up, balancing precariously on Mugwump’s wing. “I’ve gotta make it up to her, Buck. Women like grand gestures, don't they?”

Buck shuffled further away from the edge of the wing before standing, grasping his friend's hands, “I don’t think she wants a grand gesture, Bucky. I think she just wants you to apologise.”

Passing back and forth down the infirmary corridor, John found himself fighting the urge to make a run for it. He could easily head down the corridor and back out onto the hardstand before anyone noticed he was there in the first place.

Movement from within the infirmary caught his eye. He watched curiously as Y/n moved along the beds, sitting down beside a wounded airman, his head clad in bandages, covering the burns he’d sustained on the last mission. She was speaking quietly to him, too quietly for John to hear, but he saw the young man instantly relax in her presence. She was a good nurse and John had taken her kindness for granted. He had to make things right.

He wrapped his knuckles against the door, waiting for the mumbled reply, before pushing it open. Y/n was smoothing down some fresh bedding, tucking the sheets tightly into the bed.

“Excuse me, ma’am,” he interrupted, watching as her movements still and her whole body stiffened. He hated that he had this effect on her.

“What can I do for you, Major?” Her voice was plain, emotionless and her eyes seemed hollow, as though she stared right through him.

John felt his palms sweating as he spoke, “I need to talk to you, to apologise for my behaviour.” Y/n seemed uninterested in what he had to say, continuing with the task at hand, but John wasn’t about to give up on her again.

“My behaviour has been unacceptable and I know that I can probably never make it up to you but I want to try. I was not in my best form the night that we met, I was drunk and uncaring and I’m sorry I never wrote back. I intended to but I just never did, and I have no excuse, I’m just sorry I never did. You’re a great girl and any man would be lucky to have you write to them, I only wish that I hadn’t messed things up.”

John had never outed his heart out before, he’d never even revealed this kind of vulnerability to Gale, so he was a little shocked. Had he said too much? Would she hate him even more now?

Y/n had stopped her movements, still bent over the bed, her hand clutching the sheet. John watched her shoulders sag, and a long, drawn-out sigh slipped from her lips.

“It’s okay, John,” she murmured, defeat evident in her appearance. “I knew the kind of man you were when we met, I was just excited that a man such as yourself wanted to give someone like me any kind of attention.

She stood up, a few tears trickling down her cheeks, “You know the worst thing was I really did think you’d write back. That’s what hurt the most. Then when I got my orders to move to Thorpe Abbott I thought maybe we had a chance, but you didn’t even recognise me and I knew I never stood a chance.”

The pair stood in silence, the clock on the wall ticking louder than ever as time passed. John spoke up first, unable to stand the tension any longer.

“I’m so sorry, Y/n, for all of it. I understand now why you hate me so much, and I wouldn’t blame you. Is there any way I can make it up to you? Any way at all?”

Y/n’s forehead creased as she thought, her nose wrinkling as it had the same night they’d met when he’d asked her about her family. He could see it now, all the small details that he’d appreciated when he met her, if only he’d taken the time to study her when she came to base he’d have known.

Y/n shook her head, “What’s done is done. Let’s just move on and forget about it all.” She turned away, returning to the bed she’d been making, but John grabbed her arm.

“I don’t want to forget it, any of it. That night with you was one of the best nights of my life. I was free from judgment when I was with you. You never once called me Major or treated me like I was better than you, you treated me like a normal person,” John admitted, scratching the back of his neck awkwardly. “And I’d really like another shot if you’d let me.”

“Alright,” Y/n replied, “But if you break my heart again, Major then I won’t be so forgiving.”

John chuckled, saluting her, “Anything you say, Ma’am.”

Y/n rolled her eyes turning back to her job, but John spun her back around to face him, “I have some leave coming up to go to London. What do you say to come with me?”

Y/n smiled softly, “I’d love to, but I don’t know whether I can get the leave.”

“All sorted, it’s already been approved.”

Y/n raised an eyebrow, “Well that’s pretty cocky of you, Major. What were you planning on doing if I said no?”

John grinned, “I would have just asked Buck to come with me, although he’s not nearly as beautiful and I don’t think I’d want to share a bed with him, he snores you know.”

Y/n laughed, moving her arms so they rested behind his neck, fumbling with the soft hair at the base of his neck. “Alright Major, you’ve got yourself a deal.”

John grinned, cupping her cheek softly in his palm, he pressed his lips down to her, his moustache tickling her lips but that was the least of her concerns. His hands moved to her hips, resting firmly and pulling her closer. He smiled into the kiss, it felt so right, bringing back all the memories from London all those months ago. He wished he’d written her back now, he could have been kissing her all this time, but at least he could make up for lost time now and he intended to.

Tags: @georgieluz @docroesmorphine @major-mads @violetdaze25 @bcofl0ve @precious-little-scoundrel @blurredcolour @artlover8992 @b00ks1ut @xxluckystrike @hockeyboysarehot @groovin2beats @kmc1989 @ginabaker1666 @hesbuckcompton-baby @blueberry-ovaries

#masters of the air #john egan #john egan x reader #masters of the air fic #hbo war #gale cleven #rosie rosenthal #John Egan x y/n

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wifeofsnowbaird · 5 months

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[guys its the prologue, i did it so fast! also if you don't know what a bard is, they're poets from medieval times who sang for the king and/or queen]

You Can't, You Can't Catch me Now I'm coming like storm into your town

Part I/Part 2/Part 3/

Masterlist

[ mentor!coriolanus snow x time-traveled hg-era, district 9 tribute!reader x toxic! finnick odair(in the peacekeeper era)]

Warning: violence, serious injury, death, physical assult, gun and knife violence, possibly non-con...maybe.

Summary: You are a rebel, the last chance of the rebellion against President Snow. You're told to go on one last mission to kill the man who massacred Panem. It took you years to understand your mission when you became [name] Lily Baird, starting from the age of five till before the reaping day of the 10th Hunger Games.

The day you began your plan to destroy President Snow before he became the villain he was meant to become.

'Both sisters, Lucy Gray and [Name] Lily Baird are a part of the Covey, and though they have been chosen as tribute for both District 12 and 9 because of our own mistakes, we hope they will stay safe.'

You knew about [Name] Lily Baird, named after her because your mother was inspired by her fiery personality and strength, but now you realize that you were transported to a time before the Baird sisters died, one of sickness and one because of Coriolanus Snow himself.

'I will kill you, President Coriolanus Snow.'

‘Remember what he has done to your family, [Name]. Snow is nothing but a manipulator.’

You laughed before grinning over to Haymitch as he sent you a worried glance.

‘Well, I better remember this. The only time Haymitch Abernathy is serious and not seriously drunk.’

He grinned, a wide smile covering his face.

‘Take a video! Then you could see it and I could prove that I can be serious!’

You both laughed before sighing as Haymitch glanced at you sadly.

‘Believe in me, [Name], I’ve heard about women who were sadly obsessed with him. I just don’t want you to get hurt. Kill him, fall in love with a man you’re destined for, and live a happy life with no Snow in your way.’

You shook your head, Snow couldn’t be that handsome and since you know what he will do, you’re strong enough to fight that feeling.

‘I promise.’

They led you to the table, letting you bask in the warmth of the heater in front of you since you had been outside in the cold.

Katniss, Peeta, hell even Gale had said goodbye to you.

It made you feel…like…people cared…for you…

But the person you actually wanted there...refused to talk before you-the last hope-left.

Before the Covey had left for District 12, a woman named [Name] Lily Baird had gained a deadly virus. In the life where you had lived, she died the week of the reaping day and wasn’t chosen as tribute for District 9, but this time, you will be alive and manage to kill the man who ruined your life.

You will die, President Coriolanus Snow.

*cough* covid *cough*

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oops-all-concrete · 6 months

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I'm back with more BG3 COMPANION REACTIONS!

This time; Companions see Tav (yours/you) getting flirted with and being too shy/stunned to turn the person down and step in for them. As usual, the romance is only as implied as you would like! These can be read as platonic (but I'm happy to write romance specific posts if you lovelies would like)

Lae'zel -

The concept of flirting tires her. Why make eyes and small touches and idle chatter that eludes to a 'something else' if you can just get to the 'something else- immediately? Assuming both parties are interested of course. Unlike now, where Tav is failing miserably at saying no- because they weren't asked "May I taste your flesh and you taste mine in return?" With a roll of the eyes and a calculated stalk, Lae'zel makes her way over to Tav and takes them by the wrist, dragging them away. If she's stopped, she glares and speaks sharp: "Keep your filth to yourself. If they wanted what your company could achieve, they'd roll around in the mud with an actual pig."

Shadowheart -

Wyll -

She watches from afar with some amusement for a time. But- watching them stay seated several times when the "newfound company" kept getting up and seeming eager to leave- she was happy to put her wine down for such an occasion. "Pardon me, but myself and that one have somewhere to be tonight." She says, hooking her arm in Tavs. If pressed, she'll elaborate. "Well, we travel with a Githyanki warrior, the Blade Of Frontiers, a chosen of Mystra, and a cleric of Shar who's had to put down her wine to come over here and apparently repeat herself." She smiles innocently, though her voice is piercing enough to send the stranger walking backwards with their hands up.

He waits with stepping in, giving Tav the agency to say yes or no on their own accord, but as the stranger starts getting a little too familiar, he can't sit still. "Excuse me, I'm afraid my friend here isn't available this evening" He says, friendly but firm. Of course he's challenged- too nice about it- so he stops being nice. "I should have been more clear-" he starts, placing a hand on their shoulder- watching them become more afraid with the distinct crackle and glow of eldritch energy. "You're either leaving alone- or with me. In a bag." He says again, voice darker than usual. The stranger gets the message and Wyll watches them like a hawk out of the building. "Apologies Tav, I shouldn't have been so harsh. I just have a special distaste for people like that."

Karlach -

This woman jumps in the second Tav shakes their head. "Woah, woah, woah!?" She yells from the distance she is, a lot of the tavern pausing their conversations and looking her way. "Yeah, that's enough of that. If they wanted you as bad as you think, they'd have left with you already, yeah? Hands and unfortunate looking face to yourself" She says, cheeky smile on her face, but her hands itching to swing. Of course the person is embarrassed, especially when some giggles start coming in from the crowd, possibly Tav too, but Karlach knows they're safe with the entire tavern as witness. "Let's get outta here, Tav. There's more drinks and less weirdos down the street" She smiles smugly.

Gale -

He's quite socially eloquent when he wants to be, but knows how to be tactically rude as well. The minute Tav starts shuffling subtly closer to him to get away from this other person, he's inserting himself in the conversation. "Oh, you've got art at your home? I've been meaning to talk to another art fanatic, I've quite a few pieces I'd love to discuss back in my tower in waterdeep filled with wonderful architecture, sculpture, Baroque- Oh! Are you familiar with Oskar Fevras? I commissioned him personally a while ago-" he knows he's hard to talk over, and he takes full advantage. The minute the person tries to talk to Tav- Gale immediately gives them an out. "Oh! I just remembered- Tav my good friend! I believe I've left a ring in the bathroom on the sink while washing my hands" Gale talks fast, allowing Tav all the time needed to leave.

Astarion -

Oh this man is an actor. A few times he catches eyes with Tav- notably uncomfortable, and he rolls his red eyes. He disappears for a moment, but before Tav can think, he's throwing himself between Tav and the stranger. "Darling- This is where you've been??" He says, and you can hear the offence in his voice. Several heads turn. Bar staff is concerned. Oh boy. "I thought you said you'd quit drinking?? And here you are while I'm at home waiting! Look how late it is!" It's like, 4PM, and it makes the stranger frown, but Astarion is yelling again before he can be stopped. "And who are you?? Stealing my lover away like a bandit!" He throws his arms around and sounds on the verge of (fake) tears. Of course the stranger is out of there asap, Astarion taking their seat and drink, making himself at home. He smirks at them like a little shit

Halsin -

As polite and friendly as Halsin is, he can look rather intimidating when he wants. He's huge and he knows it, and while he doesn't like doing it, he will use it to his advantage. The minute he picks up on Tavs discomfort, he's a shadow over the pair. The stranger just has a look up at the druid and that has all the effect needed. "Apologies, I'm afraid you're in my seat. My friend was waiting for me" He smiles, arms crossed in front of him, a mountainous man. If they don't move immediately, he leans down to the strangers height, because of course he's much taller. "Don't worry about paying for your drink, I'd much rather pay for that myself than a bloody floor." He says, voice even and friendly, but a vein bulging out of his forehead.

Hope you've you've enjoyed! Who are you looking to for help in this situation? (I take requests, feel free to ask!♡)

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myheartismadeofstars · 3 months

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Dadstarion fic where Astarion adopts a dhampir baby that he found abandoned after she was believed stillborn.

He impulse rescues her and brings her back to camp hoping one of the others would help with her.

He has no parental instincts. He can figure out that he needs to feed her blood from time to time, but he knows nothing else. Other party members need to be the one to teach him.

Also all the other party members also adopt her lol

Astarion learns to be a dad by watching the others bond with her.

Wyll hums and dances with her, Gale straps her to his back and reads to her and cooks with her, Halsin makes her toys she's too young for and sleeps with her on his chest. Pretty much everyone takes turns feeding her blood too (Astarion is baffled by the fact that Gale's blood doesn't make her sick)

Astarion has unique parental struggles as well, not just referring to his trauma and the issues that causes, but he tries to copy Halsin by letting her sleep on his chest...and she screams because he doesn't have a heartbeat and so she feels abandoned. He can't keep her warm the way everyone else can, either.

But just the same his heart melts when she smiles at him for the first time. He talks to her in Elvish and in Common and she mimics him as best she can, the first time she says an actual word he can't contain his joy and kisses her face.

I think the only one who has as hard a time adjusting to having a baby at camp is Lae'zel. The Githyanki don't really have families the way many other races do. And this is a tiny half vampire half elf baby who can't do anything and depends entirely on others. It's really not in her nature to care for a baby.

Also yes Astarion's little one is determined to be a half elf. Certain party members tease him about actually being her father (but it's not possible for Spawn to father dhampir, and even if it were, they have to be well fed and Astarion wasn't. Also what's the likelihood of Astarion sleeping with a human woman within the last year who escaped and got pregnant? Pretty freaking slim especially how rare dhampir are)

#bg3 #baldur's gate 3 #astarion #astarion ancunin #bg3 astarion #dadstarion #when she grows up #she's a wild magic sorcerer #Astarion openly blames Gale feeding her his cursed blood for this development #i think she's just tough and that's why Gale didn't almost kill her

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chaoticbardlady99 · 3 months

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I Wondered If I Could Come Home? (Astarion x F! pregnant reader) Part 4

Synopsis: The Hag learns not to underestimate an angry mother and Eowyn decides to make an early appearance.

CW: Mentions of gore, mentions of torture, labor, breast feeding

Author note: thank you for your patience! I’ve had a lot of big life changes lately and have been struggling with my mental health. I have a couple other fics I’m working on that I’m super excited about!

This will also have more parts in the future! I have lots more ideas!

Pic is mine!

You know you need to stay in bed, but you will be damned if you are going to let Astarion face that terrible Hag alone. You knew he’d never agree to let you go with him considering your current condition, but you had always fought side by side together and not being there to protect him feels wrong to you.

They have been gone far longer than they should have been and there is a sick pit in your gut that tells you something is wrong. You don’t know what, when, why, or how, but you have a feeling Astarion’s life is in danger.

Jaheira had caught you sneaking out right away and even though Shadowheart was skeptical about the safety of the situation, she also agreed that something felt off and that they probably should have been back a few hours ago.

So you squeezed yourself into something that you can move in- settling on an oversized Wizard’s robe you had accidentally bought right before you found out you were pregnant. It’s like the retailers knew before you did.

Shadowheart and Jaheira are right behind you as you follow Scratch to Astarion’s location. The hag must not be very social considering the trail has led to a remote part of the beach. You feel even more uneasy the further you go and then you hear it.

Minsc is screaming at someone to stop and then there is a scream of pain from Astarion. Your entire body feels on fire and your rage is bigger than your own body. You can feel Eowyn’s fury too- no one is allowed to hurt her dad.

You storm in and you blast an ice shard straight through Hag's chest and send her away from Astarion. Based on the cuts along his chest- she was slowly, painfully torturing him with some type of weapon. Minsc, Halsin, and Gale are in equally bad shape and are hanging up shackled to the wall.

Astarion is blinded by some kind of spell because when you race over to him- he flinches away from you. His skin is torn up in nonsensical designs and your chest hurts looking at him. Tears are pooling in your eyes, but you have to contain yourself- he needs you to be strong right now.

“It’s just me, Star,” you say softly, “I’m getting you out of here.”

The fear and horror in his eyes intensifies, “you need to leave now!”

“Oh I’m afraid that ship has sailed little spawn,” the Hag cackles, “I didn’t even have to do any of the work- you came straight to me!”

You put yourself between the Hag and Astarion. You stare daggers into the Hag and she looks taken aback. She was a fool to believe you are just a blubbering pregnant woman who enjoys an apple cupcake.

“The only thing I will be giving you is a very painful death,” you snarl.

Shadowheart and Jaheira attack her first and you silence the Hag- preventing her from using any spells. In between Shadowheart and Jaheira’s melee attacks, you throw cantrip and spell hand over hand at the monster.

When the Hag finally goes down, you feel absolutely victorious! You untie Astarion and Shadowheart casts restoration and healing before moving onto the others. Astarion immediately pulls you into him and places lots of kisses on your face while chastising you for taking such a massive risk, but you can also see the shining pride in his eyes.

Then your water decides to break.

“Oh are you fucking serious!?” You shout in alarm.

“What’s-“ Astarion looks at you in confusion and then stops when he sees the puddles on the ground.

“Shit!” Shadowheart is racing over to check on you and puts her hand on the lower part of your stomach, “she’s ready to come at any minute- we need to get you h-“

She doesn’t even finish her sentence before Astarion picks you up and begins rushing back to the house. Everyone is hot on your trail, but you are too afraid to even be worried about that right now.

“My love, it’s going to be okay,” Astarion whispers, “you’ll be okay. Eowyn will be okay.”

“But she’s early,” you sob, “and Isobel and Dame Aylin aren’t here and what if I di-“

“No- don’t even begin to think that,” Astarion scolds you, his pace picking up, “you are going to live through this and we are going to be a family. There is no other outcome.”

You don’t argue with him because you don’t want to scare him. You’ve read a lot about Dhampir babies and their birth. Your understanding is that it’s up to the child whether you live or not- they can either make the labor excruciatingly easy or they can claw their way out of you until you bleed out. You hope that Eowyn loves you and wants you in her life. You really don’t want to die.

Everything moves in slow motion as everyone frantically moves around you. Your contractions came on much faster than Shadowheart anticipated and thank the Gods that Halsin was there because he’s delivered several children before. He was equally as surprised- this is a process that could take hours, days even, but it’s been mere minutes. Astarion asks if that’s a good thing, but neither Halsin or Shadowheart know.

Jaheira and Shadowheart push your legs as you fight through the pain and push as hard as you can. The pain is searing, but you don’t feel like you are being ripped apart more than necessary so that’s a good thing.

“You’re doing such a good job, my Love,” Astarion whispers as he wipes the sweat from your forehead, “you are so so strong.”

Yes, you are. You just fought a hag and then immediately went into labor, but that doesn’t settle the fear in your heart when you are told to push again. The pain just continues to increase but nothing feels scary, if anything, the more the pain increases, the more relief you feel. Not your own, but Eowyn’s and for some reason, you feel like she’s excited to meet you.

So you push a few more times over the next two hours until a high pitched cry echoes through the room. Halsin asks Astarion if he wants to cut the cord and he agrees, but looks like he’s going to throw up the whole time. Halsin is laughing as he shows Astarion how to bathe Eowyn- your poor partner looks like he’s about to have a conniption.

“Congratulations,” Halsin says while handing Eowyn over to you, “you are the proud parents of a very healthy little girl.”

Eowyn stops crying the minute she’s in your arms and she opens her eyes- she has topaz, sun elf eyes with red flecks and you smile widely- she has your eye color!

“Well hello my sweet girl,” you coo, “thank you for not killing me.”

Eowyn is the most precious baby in the world as she squeals happily at you. You giggle and hold her tighter. Your heart feels so so full when you look at her. It was just the two of you for so long and you are so happy to be here to know her.

Wispy, blonde silver curls adorn her head and her ears are adorably pointed. Her skin is the same color as Astarion’s but with more life in her cheeks. Her lips are in a happy little pout and she is inquisitive while taking in your features. Oh and her rolls! She is a chunky little gal!

You understand now what all those parenting books were saying. You would destroy the world for Eowyn.

“And!” Shadowheart pops up from in between your legs, “you’re totally okay! Besides the expected, that is.”

A relieved laugh leaves your lips and Eowyn happily squeals again in unison. Eowyn’s eyes then seem to wander around the room, her head turning ever so slightly. You read that Dhampirs are stronger than normal infants, but you are still weary of her moving without your support.

She doesn’t stop looking around until she meets Astarion’s eyes. You follow her gaze and you smile softly at Astarion who looks so happy, scared, and relieved at the same time. Eowyn offers a chubby hand to him and you watch as Astarion walks towards both of you as if hypnotized. He hesitantly lets her take his finger and Eowyn smiles before closing her eyes and relaxing against you.

“She’s beautiful,” Astarion says in awe, “but she’s also too smart for her own good.”

“I told you so,” you say with a huff, “but noooo no one listens to mom.”

Astarion smiles brightly at you and kisses your chapped lips slowly and lovingly. He sits next to the two of you, his finger never leaving Eowyn’s hand.

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

The Hag had overtaken them. Astarion still isn’t quite sure how- he just remembers a big flash and something in the room taking him down to his knees. When he woke up being tortured- he felt as helpless and pathetic as he had under Cazador.

Astarion was certain he would die there or just be there for eternity. The hag blinded him and carved into his skin as much as she pleased.

Hearing your voice had felt like a balm for his shattered spirit, but that feeling was quickly overtaken with fear for you and Eowyn. You were not supposed to be here trying to protect him. He’s supposed to be protecting you.

Today was humbling. You killed the hag and saved him. You then proceeded to give birth not even three hours later and you still had asked him if it would be okay for you to take a nap.

In spite of today’s lack of success, Astarion can’t help but feel nothing but pride towards you as you snore softly next to him in the bed. Your arm is absentmindedly thrown over his torso and Eowyn is napping in his arms. You are truly a miracle walking and it’s in these moments that he still can’t believe you took him back. You’re incredible and you could easily have done this on your own.

Astarion is extremely nervous. He knows he has absolutely no paternal instinct, but he does know he loves Eowyn and you. At the end of the day that’s the important part, right? He can figure out the rest as he goes- he’s smart and quick enough on his feet.

Eowyn begins crying and suddenly that process of thought is completely gone. You stir and begin to sit up with a yawn.

“She’s-“ another yawn cuts you off, “probably hungry.”

Astarion passes Eowyn to you- once again feeling entirely unhelpful. Sure enough, she immediately begins to suckle and her crying ceases. You smile at her and then look to Astarion- your features quickly changing to a look of concern. You use your other hand to wipe his tears.

“Star, what’s wrong?”

He struggles to fight the lump in his throat and to stop the tears in his eyes. You continue to look at him lovingly, providing him with comfort and assurance. Astarion can tell you what he’s feeling- maybe you can even help him get a new perspective.

“I feel so useless and well, worthless,” he chokes out, “I didn’t kill the hag, I couldn’t do anything but watch you be in pain, and I can’t even feed Eowyn.”

Your hand pauses on his cheek for a second before you shake your head.

“Astarion, you saved me from that horrid creature earlier this morning. If you hadn’t been there, I would be chopped up somewhere and Eowyn would be turned into a hag,” you say tearfully, “and I could not have gone into labor without you here. That was one of my biggest fears before you arrived at my door- I just wanted you here with us.

“And you are certainly welcome to try and feed Eowyn,” you tease, “but last time I checked you aren’t producing milk and besides, it’s not your fault. She’s mere hours old and I haven’t even begun to try to fill up a bottle or two for you to use. Just please don't beat yourself up, my Star. You mean the whole world to me and I couldn’t have done any of this without you. Not to mention- Eowyn adores you so you have to stick around.”

Astarion’s heart glows and cracks at the same time. He would never leave you- he may raise Eowyn with questionable morals, but he has no intentions of not being a part of her life until both of you are long gone and his own time comes.

Everything else you said though? It did help to throw the worst of his negative feelings out.

“I never intended on leaving,” he says quickly, not thinking about how his feelings may have sounded, “but thank you, my Love. I needed to hear that.”

“Of course, anytime.”

The two of you talk and obsess over how adorable she is, what features she seems to have from who, etc. You eventually fall asleep leaning against Astarion while feeding Eowyn.

When she’s done, Astarion gently takes her from your arms and burps her like every parenting book says to do. It’s not a ridiculously hard process, but the spit up on his shirt is definitely not his favorite.

“Really? This is my nice shirt!” He whispers at Eowyn who just smiles at him, “okay fine, you can spit up on my shirts.”

Eowyn yawns and goes back to sleep- it takes everything in Astarion not to melt into a puddle. He didn’t think a yawn could be so adorable in his whole life.

You begin to snore softly again and Eowyn is right behind you. Astarion chuckles to himself and places a soft kiss on Eowyn’s forehead.

He’s excited to introduce her to everyone- Dal has been sending letters non-stop asking when she can visit. Astarion has been procrastinating because he knows she’ll bring Petras too and if you hadn’t made it… well it would not have been a happy union.

Dal is already referring to herself as Eowyn’s aunt which made Astarion slightly uncomfortable at first because he and his siblings had never truly been close, but then she visited with Petras, Aurelia, and even Violet during your 7th month of pregnancy and you all had hit it off very well and, without Cazador, Astarion found he actually enjoys his siblings’ company. They are actually decent people now that they aren’t all being horribly abused. Well, Violet may be the exception, she’s still a shit who loves to play pranks, but at least they aren’t painful or out of vengeance.

Then there are his traveling companions- his chosen family as you refer to them as. Every single one of them is going to want to meet Eowyn and smother her in love. He’s most excited to see Lae’zel’s reaction- she’s going to be horrified by how squishy human children are, but Eowyn will win her over.

Astarion decides to talk to you about having them visit once you are awake and if you seem to be feeling much stronger. He knows one thing for sure though- Eowyn is going to have the biggest and most loving family anyone could ever have.

#astarion #baldurs gate 3 #astarion x reader #astarion x tav #baldurs gate astarion #bg3 spoilers #astarion romance #astarion x you #bg3 #karlach #astarion acunin #astarion x pregnant reader #astarion x f!reader #astarion x f!tav #astarion baldurs gate #astarion fanfiction #astarion fic #astarion ancunin

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vagabond-umlaut · 3 months

Text

synchronise 1.0

On one end of the line, you've sunny days, mild breezes and not one thing to worry over. On the other end, there are only moonless nights, foul gales and one too many decisions– made and unmade– to repent for. And in the middle of this line segment, is you—

The only means by which the scales can be re-balanced. The equilibrium lost can be re-discovered. The wheels of life thrown off-kilter can be re-synchronised.

[Long story short: Time can be a funny little bitch— Good thing, you know how to be funnier than time itself!]

gojo satoru x fem!reader; canon divergence; time travel fix-it; tw: death, grief, gloomy themes [yk wtv u feel after watching gege butcher yet another chapter...]; might have inaccuracies regarding japanese funeral ceremonies [i'm so sorry in advance!]; this is the only chapter to be written from 3rd person pov

synchronise masterlist // THE masterlist

chapter one: 26/12/2018

Everyone is dead.

She wishes there was a better way to tell this, but there isn't any. So, yeah. Everyone– nearly everyone close to her is dead— and the very few who aren't... She thinks– no, she believes– they would be much better off being dead.

Survivor's guilt is no silly joke, ya know?

The door behind her opens then closes, way too soft but she hears it anyway. Much like how she feels everything nowadays. No matter how faint they've been. No matter how vague. A pair of something pointed– perhaps, heels– hit the tiled floor, before halting right behind her.

She screws her eyes shut.

"Go away, Shoko. Leave me alone."

"Oh, I'm not Ieiri-san," A cheery voice replies. Barely resisting the urge to retch at the sunny tenor, she repeats, "Go away then, not-Ieiri-san. Leave me the fuck alone."

"Wow, rude," Is the only response she gets before a weight drops into the other end of the sofa. She resolutely keeps her eyes closed, harshly digging her knuckles into them— only to open her eyes when something warm squeezes her arm.

The touch is frighteningly familiar to someone she knew, someone she knew far too well... She flinches away; a shaky exhale crawling up her wind pipe, rattling when her gaze falls on the person across—

It's a woman.

Or, she thinks she is; yet she feels she isn't. More like, they cannot be. Or maybe they can, and this is merely the form they've chosen to visit her in... Wrapping the coat tighter round herself, she sinks into the familiar texture of the sofa.

And snarls, "Why are you here?"

"Rude and direct, I like it," The lady smirks, one leg crossed over the other. She doesn't know why but something pungent, something horrid claws at the back of her eyes. "But shouldn't you ask me who I am? That's how the ice is broken, isn't it?"

Damn it.

Damn it, damn it, damn it, damn this woman to the hell and back!

She lets her nails– the frustration; perhaps, the grief too– dig deep crescents into her palm, letting their sharp edges break skin and draw blood. Blood she's all too ready to spill if she has to keep watching this smirk, or worse, if she has to bear just one more syllable—

<"Ah, my sweetness– I really missed seeing you so feral."

Anger pools in her belly, still not quelled by the fight resulting in the crumpled bodies before— yet it lulls in less than a heartbeat when two familiar arms wrap round her midsection, pulling her into the firmness of a familiar chest.

She peers up, tsking yet not really [she never really can], at the man behind. "I'm not a beast which's turned feral, idiot— Think before you speak."

He returns a knowing smile, before cold fingers claim her chin lightly, tilting her face backwards. Her eyes flutter shut, the moment she feels his cool breath teasing her lips. Caressing her lips. Always the soothing winter to her sweltering summer.

"How can I think when my mind's always on you, sweet—">

Pins and needles prick and stab her skin, wrenching her away from the memory? daydream? illusion?— She isn't too sure anymore. She doesn't care anymore. The lady keeps regarding her keenly. A stare that worsens the heat behind her eyes, that hastens the surge of bile and sobs rushing up her throat.

She asks– louder, shakier– "Why are you here? What do you want from me?"

"Nothing," The woman hums, their tone laced with humor. But it doesn't stay long, soon twisting into something knowing, something akin pity, when they say, "Loneliness is a heavy burden to shoulder, isn't it?"

It is. It very much is.

But what does this stranger know about it?

They are not the one who lost everyone in her life. They are not the one who had to watch everyone losing their life. Their hands are not the ones bleeding from dried pools of blood. Their hands are not the ones freezing from frigid claws of death. They are not the one who has to walk past corridors once teeming with life, now filled with the silence of survivors. They are not the one whose table is covered with urns of ashes, waiting to interred in the family graves—

"I wonder if you'll be this mad if you know what I've to offer you."

"Speak then, instead of wondering," Rudely interrupted, she snaps back, inhaling then exhaling in an effort to stabilise herself, "I'm giving you two minutes— waste them, I'll exorcise you."

The woman's eyes widen for a beat, before crinkling in a hearty chuckle. "Of course, you'll know to exorcise me, not kill me. Of course! Of course!" Then sighs and shakes their head on the glare sent, fingers soon moving into a flurry of signs and symbols.

"Fine, fine," They mutter, "I'm calling the thing over; you're so freakin' impatient..."

The lady's fingers suddenly still.

The air too stills— until it is bathed in a blinding beam of light, and there it is on the table.

Right next to the vase of wilted flowers. Right next to the envelopes of condolence money. Right next to the group photograph she had taken with everyone, before everything went south, before everything went to hell—

There it is on the table: An antique pocket watch, golden and green, sitting innocuously on the wooden surface. As if it didn't just jump out of moronic myths, into her reality. As if it doesn't just hold the solution to all her problems, the only tool that can right her reality.

She stares at it for few beats longer, then frowns. "Is this the real deal?"

"You'll never know if you never try."

"Any side-effects I must know of, before I use it?"

"You'll never know–"

"– if I never try: Yes, thanks, I know," She cuts them off, stare tapering down into a narrow glare as she tears her focus away, "But I want to know if there'll be any side-effects or not. I cannot afford to lose anymore than I've already lost."

"Do you even have anything left to lose?" The woman retorts, soft and gentle yet it hurts no less than a poison-tipped arrow. They take a beat before leaning forwards to pluck the watch off the table and drop it into her lap.

"Ten chances," They state, tone final, brooking no room for disagreements or interruptions, "Ten chances is all I could manage to get for you— Use them well, girl. Don't let my efforts go down the drain— And," They add, the same instant she opens her mouth, "Please don't ask why I'm helping you. That's my only other request, please."

Maybe, it is the pleading glint in the lady's eyes. Maybe, it is the hopeful bubble in her chest.

Whatever it is, she doesn't find it too difficult to return a curt nod. And ask, totally ignoring the grateful smile shot her way, "How does this work, though? Any key or any incantation–"

"Hey, no. Nothing of the sort," They brush her question away with a giggle, "Think of the time and place you wish to travel to— and just wind the watch. It'll send you to your destination, bringing you back to the present only after one hour is over." Then adds after a short silence, "You can re-use it after three whole days have passed, though— Also, don't tell anyone about this! This must stay a secret only between us both... Okay?"

"Yeah, okay." This time, the assent is much easier to grant. There's no one left anyway, she is comfortable enough to share such stuff with...

"And how long will it be before the changes made in my past reflect on my present?"

"Not before you've reverted all those decisions which led to today," The woman answers, smile dimming to a subtle twitch of lips, "It might take you only one trip. Might take you more than that. But remember, all you've got is ten trips— try and make every second count."

Her gaze falls on the black-and-white envelopes. On the wide beams gleaming in the frame. And finally, onto the antidote to all the venom that tainted and ruined her life, lying in her lap.

She picks the watch up. And noting the quiet movements of its hands, allows a slow, reluctant, small smile form on her face.

"Don't worry, not-Ieiri-san. Make them count, I will."

next chapter

i wish i cld justify text on tumblr like i can do in my word doc or ao3... the formatting here looks hideous– 😭😭 [if anyone knows how to justify text here, can u pls teach me? 🥺🙏🙏]

header from pinterest; dividers by @benkeibear; jjk isn't mine

#gojo x reader #gojo x you #gojo satoru x reader #gojo satoru x you #satoru x reader #satoru x you #jjk x reader #jjk x you #gojo fluff #jjk fluff #gojo angst #jjk angst #kit posts 📝

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bhaalsdeepbat · 5 months

Text

Hellspawn idea that hit me like a religious vision

Astarion can't stop thinking of the color of this flower Karlach found during one of the more idyllic moments of traveling to Baldur's Gate, and it should have been such an inconsequential moment. It was just a flower. But the delight burning in the embers of her mirthful eyes just sticks with him. And it's mostly annoying how happy she is about everything, but he also can't hold it against her when she, too, is adjusting to sudden, newfound freedom, and hers is much more limited than his.

And it isn't even a romantic moment or anything, right? Karlach just sees it on the edge of where the last bit of life was able to grow between the Shadow Curse and the land beyond it. She's STOKED. Bellowing in that way she does about this flower. She just takes a moment to enjoy it, then moves on. Doesn't pick it. Doesn't touch it. Just moves on with her day.

but this moment sticks with him and he thinks about it when they're curled together under the stars that night, his body fitting against the curve of hers, his cold weight soaking up every bit of warmth her overheated body will give him, and her arms are SO strong, but so gentle in the way she holds him.

The immortal forced to reckon with mortality bc this woman, who truly believe deserves a much better lot in life, only has a finite amount of time to appreciate the flowers and the sunrise and just. everything.

He'll still be able to live his life from the shadows and find beauty in the darkness, but Karlach?

He can see her death coming on the horizon and there's so much he actually wants to do, now that they're trying to make things real. and he just. is feeling the pressure bc he did waste time trying to get Karlach into a position to protect him and he'll forever feel bad about it (but not say anything bc that's his burden to carry).

So the immortal keeps thinking about this flower and what Karlach would look like adorned in beautifully crafted items accented in blue: gilded chains and cuffs adorning her hair and horns, sturdy leather dyed and stamped, fine silk embroidered with expensive floss, of all the nice things he wishes she could experience - because he promised her new experiences once they returned - and just.

When everyone's sleeping, he just spends that time sneakily embroidering this doublet he stole from a vendor the moment they entered the city. He's working against time, too, cus this is a gift he HAS to give her before her time is up. So, his skilled fingers move quickly, embroidering this black doublet with the most beautiful embroidery done mostly in blue, but accented with red, orange, and yellow.

He's almost done when Karlach tells him one night that she thinks she doesn't have much longer. Her heart is in overdrive and she can feel her body beginning to give out, to fail her when freedom was so close she could taste it. and it isn't fair. Astarion is SO angry at the world and at the Gods because he FINALLY has someone and. Time is running out. he feels even more powerless here because it really is just up to Karlach and whether she wants to keep going or not. He tries to talk to her about it, but usually they just end up fighting because they're both stubborn.

So, he avoids the conversation, mostly. Just tries to pretend the end isn't peeking over the horizon.

He doesn't give her the doublet right away. He doesn't want that finality, to give it to her and to know this may very well be the last time he gets to give her something he put his time into for her like this. and he has other gifts for her. a new owlbear to go with clive (even if he thinks that's juvenile, but he's not going to judge....well. he will, but not as much as if it were Gale who still had his stuffies). but he just. cannot bring himself give her this doublet bc he knows it's the first and last time she'll be adorned in something that he put together for her. the embroidered doublet is his labor of love, and the man does NOT like to labor.

embroidering isn't even necessarily his favorite thing to do, it's just one of his skills he actually has. he lacks self-confidence when it comes to what qualities he thinks he has that make him worthy of a relationship, but he can make sure his partners' clothes are mended and presentable.

When he finally gives it to her, it's after they take down Gortash. Karlach spends that very night alone, and Astarion cannot take it. He hasn't spent a single night away from Karlach since before they arrived at the Shadow-Cursed Lands, and now they're literally counting the days until they're taken from one another. He's big mad, seething, but very respectful to her bc he understands. he's not mat at HER, he's mad at everyone that took everything they could from her.

That's the first night he actually sits down and starts coming up with a plan. And it's a genuinely good one, but it's the first good one he's had in almost two-centuries. This is when he comes up with how he wants to convince Karlach to let him go to Avernus with her. He's not ready to let go and he is willing to murder his way through the Hells with her if he gets to see her smile about inconsequential things again.

He gives her the doublet the night before they plan to head for the Morphic Pool. They know it may be their last night together, so after a group meal, when everyone is winding down to turn in for the night, they make their way up to the roof of the tavern. They sit beneath the stars, side by side, but they're just sitting and refusing to look at one another.

Karlach is unusually still and silent. She's exhausted. Astarion swears she had his undead heart beating again, but seeing her like that had it stop cold in his chest. He tries to break the silence, to cut off his own thoughts so he doesn't spiral into despair thinking of the unknown, but just ends up reaching out to take her hand.

She's hot to the touch. He can feel that her temperature IS increasing and just. imagining what she's feeling and how she's been pent up this entire trip. like no fucking release from the pressure of this shitty heart that only does its job in the right environment.

She's the one who breaks it first. to thank him for his company. to tell him that he was a little fucking SHIT when she first met him, but she always could see something good behind the veneer of mischief hiding the fear in his piercing eyes. but she loves him and she's so, so happy to have been given a chance to love someone, to touch them freely, to feel loved in return. it was something she was missing in the last 10 years of the loneliness of being simple cannon fodder in an endless war.

and she doesn't want to talk abt this. she had been avoiding it, took him on their date to pretend like he wasn't doomed to be left alone in his eternity. And neither of them even MENTION the elephant in the room. like they're both talking circles around what's going to happen, but they're being honest about the feelings they have for one another. like the only thing they even voice concern for is not being able to take out the Absolute.

Under the stars, accompanied by declarations of love spilling from their lips, Astarion produces the doublet. Karlach is just ecstatic that she received a gift, but when she realizes HE embroidered it, she's just kinda like.

This is. the most beautiful gift i've ever received, fangs.

and her calloused fingers, fingers that had seen more war and death than anyone her age should have to, gently touch the floss, follow the design, and she realizes the particular shades of orange, red, and yellow are in her eyes, in her body, in her chest, all complimented by the blue thread he used as the main color of the design.

It's a design made of the sun, moon, and stars, trailing up the front, across the broad shoulders, and down the back yoke.

she's his sun. She's the gentle warmth of the sun's rays comforting him when he would rather recede to the shadows and fall back on old habits. she's his moon and his stars, his guiding light when everything seems like it may crash down and suffocate him. She's everything good in this world if you look for it. She's proof that you can be put through shit and still come out a decent person.

Karlach does cry, but it's nothing dramatic. It's a few tears, her own stomach and chest twisting with an overwhelming sense of loss and yearning; the loss of time when her light inevitably extinguishes and a deep yearning to stay. it's in direct opposition to her desire to die in the place she loves simply so she can keep living this life with the man she loves.

She puts the doublet on, wearing it that night while he cuddled against her side. They held each other beneath the stars, until it was time for Karlach to get some rest for the upcoming battle. Astarion spends that entire night just watching her, playing with her hair, getting every last touch he can, then makes a vow that he WILL save Karlach, just as she saved him.

#bat rambles #hellspawn #karlach #astarion #bg3 #i'm dying on the hill that astarion's preferred way of showing love #would be gift giving (making sure his partner is taken care of) and touch #but like the former he would NOT draw any attention to that's between him and his partner #like generally gift giving with him is someone just finds it wrapped up on their bed like he's a cat #or in some cases #he'll just casually give it to them during an unrelated convo and. not mention the gift once #for example i imagine when he and mercy are going through loot #to decide what to keep and what to sell #astarion will sometimes pick a ring from the bunch #or maybe he had one he had found while actively looting and tucked it away specifically to give #but he'd just reach over to put the ring on one of their fingers #then go back to what he's doing #just gestures like that #he's dramatic but i think he'd be awkward with gift giving #bc part of it is just how long he went without y'know #once he loves someone he just needs all their needs to be met and then some #one day i'll actually write this out but #here's a quick play by play of what i keep envisioning lmao #long post #bat writes #fic idea

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msookyspooky · 5 days

Text

Fours a Franchise

Part 15

wordcount: 9,337

Your phone rang, scaring all of you at the sudden loud noise…Who the hell could be calling you? What if it was Dewey telling you he knew exactly where you are and he was coming for you or already there? Or what about Gale to tell you she had evidence to back up Jill and you were finished? Your entire body froze as you felt like you didn't breathe for several rings.

Billy jerked to look at you from the kitchen. Worry and tension in his body language as well as Stu's.

Stu stiffened and sharply told you, “Man, turn that off!” Leery of being tracked.

Billy looked at you in warning as well.

You tentatively picked it up and you saw the caller ID across your screen.

…Karla Meeks.

“Do not answer that.” Billy ordered firmly. “I don't care who it is!”

“I…” You fumbled in thought. Guilt eating you alive.

Karla…God, how can you forget her in all this mess? Her husband is dead. You lost a friend but she lost her husband in such a savage way…And it was your fault even indirectly. If you hadn't let him go no matter how mad he was. If you wouldn't have seperated to talk to Billy and Stu in the first place. If you just stayed at his house and took the risk of being unknowingly across the street from one of the killers...None of this may have happened…You owed her somehow even just a voice. Someone did.

“Sweetcheeks, don't answer!” Stu agreed with him as Stu tried to get up from his chair but was having a tough time with how in pain he was. Letting out a sharp ‘Oof!’ noise of pain as he went to move with his injured ribs and internal injuries stitched up. His equilibrium was off too, no doubt from a concussion from the metal bed pan Jill beat him with.

Billy went to drag his bum leg towards you to grab that slighlty cracked smartphone. Damaged from falling off a roof and the night you had. Billy was too slow as you took a huge risk and answered it. It was just such a knee jerk reaction to answer the last friend you had in the world. You couldn't live with yourself missing that call…She was the only person that didn't look at you like a traitor or killer now.

Stu harshly whispered out with wide eyes, “Did you seriously just answer it? YN!”

“Goddamn you. Give it!-” Billy rubbed his face as you answered, still going to take it but you just scooted away as you had it on speaker phone. A familiar woman asking ‘hello?’ and saying your name repeatedly on the other line.

You swallowed and finally spoke. “...Karla?”

“YN?...You answered. Oh God. Oh my God, YN… Where are you?” She drew out with such a heavy voice clad with woe and tiredness.

“I…Can't say.” Your eyes darted around as Billy and Stu watched with disapproval at you talking to her at all. Billy still trying to get that phone as you held up a pillow to block him. All of you with the fighting power of senior citizens with how banged up you all were. He gave up after a few attempts not nearly as much fight as he had in the hospital.

“Dewey, won't say either. But you were with Randy last night. Right? YN…YN, what happened?”

Your heart ached as you heard her voice tremble on the other line.

“YN, how did it happen? How did Randy-'' She sobbed out; losing her barely there composure on the other line. “Please, what happened? How did my husband get away from you, please…Please, YN, please I can't-”

Of all the things to make you instantly hurt; it was this. Karla and Randy's kids crying and talking in the background as you were frozen in your seat. You heard Mindy yell, ‘He's not dead!’ at the news. Refusing to believe at the tender age of 6 that her Daddy was gone.

It's like reality was fully setting in…You almost broke down when Randy saw Billy and Stu last night, when you found Randy dead last night, at the Meeks house, when you almost died twice, when Dewey wanted nothing to do with you, the car ride but…This was just too much after 24 hours of straight Hell.

You couldn't hold it in as tears sprung to your eyes and your lip wobbled. Quickly shoving your palm over your mouth to prevent it.

Billy watched with a tight stoic look. Mouth thin as he watched you, almost curious but slightly annoyed. Whether at you or the situation was debatable. Looking uncomfortable and even shocked at you crying after all these years of you never showing this side of you. Not to him, at least.

Stu on the other hand had seen this a handful of times before back when he visited your cabin years ago. When it was just you and him searching for Billy to investigate Hollywood as well. He still looked shocked at first before he just frowned and tried to ease himself up with a tired sigh.

“Karla, I'm sorry…God, it's my fault! I'm sorry, I'm sorry.” You cried out; repeating your words as you covered your eyes. Hiccuping on a sob you tried to choke down.

“YN, please you have to tell me! No one has details…My husband's gone…Mindy and Chad won't stop crying when they heard; I can't stop-” She was almost hysterical at this point. Her heart more broken than even yours

You released a soft sob as you heard a child screaming in the background. You wanted to scream too. They were only 6…They were only 6. They were practically babies to you.

You both were sobbing as you tried so hard to suck in a shaky breath to speak, “Karla, I'm gonna make this right by you. I swear…I'm gonna make this as easy for you all as I can.”

“YN, I just need answers! Dewey won't say anything! What the fuck happened and why aren't you in Woodsboro?! Your suitcase is here, you're not at the hospital and no one is telling me anything!” She exclaimed at her wits end.

You ignored her request and just told her in a solemn voice, “I won't be coming to Ray's funeral.” Tears rolled down your cheeks as you gave that shaky reply.

“What? But-”

You interrupted her, “I am gonna miss you and the kids. Tell Mindy and Chad I love them and no matter what anyone says about me; don't believe it…Please…Remind them how proud Ray was…H-How much he loved them and you…He loved you a lot Karla.” You couldn't do it as a cry threatened to wrack your body painfully and you shut your phone off before she could reply. Her voice was going to say something but what was there to say? You could never go to Woodsboro again. You couldn't tell her the truth. Your guilt would never allow you to see them again even if you could go to Woodsboro…

You let it drop from your hands onto the sofa as you held your face in your hands. Sobbing like you hadn't in years. Now that Ghostface wasn't after you; it was a release. You were backed in a corner so many times and you just couldn't be strong anymore…Hearing Karla sobbing for her husband. For your best friend as it all came crashing into you. Remembering the video of him begging for his life Charlie showed; hanging lifeless and pale from the barn. Not to mention, your last conversation and now your last conversation with Dewey too. Woodsboro ‘96 all over again if not 10 times worse. You couldn't be stoic right now even if you tried.

You finally looked up seeing both Billy and Stu staring wide eyed like young boys unsure what to say or do. Stu went to go near you to console you but faltered as you sucked on a sob trying to escape your lips. Teary eyes glanced at them both.

Everyone just froze, not sure what to say.

Billy went to say it, “You shouldn't have done that, it was an idiot thing to do. What if they get our location and…”

But one glance at you and he sighed reluctantly. Averting his gaze to go to the kitchen. Avoiding this.

Stu hesitated before easing with a hiss of pain onto the end of the couch near you. “...You…Alright?”

“No, Stu! I'm not alright! My best friend is dead, I can never see my god-kids ever again, my other friend thinks I'm a murderer, I'm on the run with stab wounds and could have a ruptured organ in me but can't go get it checked out and all because you two 15 years ago-” You were about to say what you've said for years to them when you saw Stu give a tight frown and looked away. Not even defending himself for once even if he looked annoyed. You faltered and stopped yourself. “I'm sorry…But no, I'm not fucking okay.” You gave in a heavy teary voice.

Stu nodded and rubbed your back with what he could do with his one arm. “Yeah…” He mumbled.

You gave a shaky sigh. “Sorry…It's just too much.”

Stu sighed too and leaned forward with a raised brow in thought as he stared at the carpet. “...You know, Ray isn't your fault.” You huffed but he continued, “No seriously. The guy chose to seperate and go against his rules…I mean, did he even wait for you or was he just gonna get in the car and leave you with a killer on the loose?”

You didn't answer.

Stu eyed you. “...Him getting killed was crappy timing and the killers knew that. If anything, you could blame us for talking to you or going to the party…Shit happens.”

You shook your head at how callous Stu could be. “Shit doesn't happen when your best friend is hung from a barn gutted and bled out, Stu…” You sniffed hard and replied in a monotone.

“Okay…But are you going to blame yourself like you do everything else? Cause it's really a turn off when you do.”

You rolled your eyes. “Oh a turn off. Can't have that.” You sarcastically replied before sighing with a shrug. “I…I don't know…I know I didn't kill him…Fucking Charlie-” You shook your head in disgust.

Stu replied, “Yeah. What a jerkoff loser.” His blue downturned eyes glanced at you in determination. “I should've slit his throat when I had the chance. I didn't know they had a gun…That was my fuck up. I get too-”

“Cocky?”

“I was gonna say excited.” He smirked wryly and gently nudged you.

You forced a small tight smile a moment but it didn't last. You shrugged with a tired sigh and sniffled, your tears slowly drying. “Yeah well, the cops confiscated my gun because I threatened some boys that were laughing and recording Randy's dead body right in front of us.”

“Damn…”

“I didn't even threaten them with the gun, just maybe hitting a minor.” You grumbled.

“Kids suck and people suck in general.” He mused.

You wanted to rip his ass. Tell him he thought Woodsboro ‘96 was ‘like Christmas!’ and was elated at Himbry's body displayed by Billy on the football fielf. He was, would and is just like those boys Kirby chased off for you.

You shook your head realizing as your mind wasn't in fight or flight mode…Shit…She died too. She must've not listened and went outside when you got a kitchen knife and separated.

You rolled your lips and muttered, “If I had my gun, Dewey's gun technically, I would've at least shot Jill or Charlie before you both even got there and none of this would've happened…But fucking Judy-” You scoffed with an annoyed sniffle at the memory of last night.

“Shoulda, woulda, coulda.” Stu sighed in exasperation. “Seriously, Sweetcheeks. The damage is done, girl. I know it sucks but me and Billy screwed up too and we aren't dwelling on it. Ya know why? Because it doesn't do anything.”

You slowly nodded to yourself. They had a lifetime of screw ups. Knowing even if they won't admit it. If they could have not been so stupid and brash to kill so many at a party they would be way better off…And you'd feel guilty for a while but logically he was right. Randy was dead. Dewey hated you. Gale showed she hasn't changed as well as secretly still disliked you and just waited for a reason to say she was right all these years. You may be in prison soon…And there was nothing to be done about it.

“You're right.”

Stu blinked in surprise. “...Well that's new. I like it. You should admit I'm right more often, Sweetcheeks.” You couldn't help the wry quiet chuckle as you hung your head and Stu eyed you. “This is nice. We haven't really talked in person one on one in a decade, huh? Outside of killer talk at least.”

“Yeah, I guess not…”

“Did ya miss me?” He teased.

You sighed not crying anymore even if your eyes still sting and your heart still twisted. “Sometimes.” You were not willing to fully admit right now that yes. Yes, you did.

Billy came back eavesdropping a bit from the open kitchen door frame as the silence stretched on.

Stu stared longer. "You did?"

"Yeah. Sometimes...Sometimes I did."

Stu stared wide eyed. His gaze softening and scooting closer. He then went to hug you or kiss you; you weren't sure which but you jerked away in pain with your stomach as well as just not wanting touched right now, “…No.” While stopping him as he stared at you long and hard. “I'm sorry but…I'm just not comfortable with that right now.”

“I was just…We hugged at the barn. So, I just thought it would be…” He shrugged, trailing off.

“I know. A part of me would want one if I wasn't in so much turmoil and pain…My body hurts and my heart and head and…It's not the time.” You mumbled.

“I mean, I think it's a perfect time.”

You were silent, getting uncomfortable with his persistent personality of you giving an inch and he took it 100 miles on a highway with how he reacted to things. You admit you missed him sometimes meant you were madly in love and wanting his attention he so generously gave no matter what in his ears.

You stared at the floor before Stu said, “I'm sorry for your friend, uh. It sucks…But…I'm here, you know. I can be a shoulder to cry on or anything you want. I know even if I say don't beat yourself up you will so…I'm your guy to talk to.”

He kept urging, kept getting close as can be, kept talking like he didn't see social ques to leave you be or he was that full of himself that you'd give in for him. With Stu, it was debatable.

Billy commented, “Stu…I don't think she wants to talk right now…Just let her sort things out in her head.” He crossed his arms and watched.

“I'll let her be the judge of that.” Stu gave him a haughty look.

“…Billy's right, I just need time alone.” You mumbled as you were clearly devastated and hurting and uncomfortable.

“Billy's right…Pft, yeah.” He repeated with a puff of air past his lips. A strange look in his eyes before he just stared between you both being his blunt self. A hateful matter of fact tone to his voice now. “Yeah, well. You can never go back. You know that, right? Woodsboro is dead to you now.”

You sucked in a breath almost ready to tell him to leave you alone. “Yes, I know that.”

“Good, cause…You might not even be able to go home. Like, home home. To your cabin.”

You gave him a glare, “In time-”

He shrugged, “You're better off here. With us. I mean, I'm here for you.” He went to put an arm around you like he did earlier but this time more forceful.

You rolled your eyes at that knowledge as it made you feel worse. You shrank away from him and finally just told him, “Stu, I really wanna be alone.”

Billy watched as Stu's face contorted. “Stu.” Billy mumbled trying to get his attention hoping he'd just drop it.

“You were fine till Billy came in…” He grumbled under his breath.

“What?” You blinked.

Stu was silent and got up. “...Nothing…Just hope Karla didn't have that phone tracing the call with the police.”

You felt your gut sink. You were so tired and emotional fucked up you truthfully didn't think. Just eager to hear from her.

“I'm going to bed.” Stu mumbled his entire mood shifting as he crept slowly to Billy's room in the back of the trailer.

Billy huffed and after a few moments rolled his eyes. “I guess he's taking my food and bed. Great.” He sarcastically mumbled then sighed heavily. Easing with grimace to lean over a chair a moment.

“...What was that about?” You softly asked Billy.

The man shrugged, “Who fucking knows?…He's right though. You did something stupid as hell answering that phone.”

“I know. I'm sorry.” You admitted not even trying to deny it. “It was stupid and I'm sorry I put us at risk. It won't happen again.”

Billy's face contorted in annoyance, “STOP that.”

“Huh?” You blinked. “Stop what??”

“The docile bullshit of agreeing with me. STOP.”

You huffed out. “Would you rather us argue and fight and me disagree?”

“Yeah! Actually, I would.” He grumbled then scoffed while rubbed his face. “I'm not use to you so close and us not trying to one up each other or kill you…It's fucking weird.”

You chuckled wryly. You couldn't help it.

“Shut up.” He jeered with a twitch of his brow in irritation and embarrassment.

“You're allergic to niceness, aren't you?” You couldn't help it. His expression was hilarious for a guy like him. You had to make fun of him a little bit just hopefully not enough for him to stab you.

“No, just allergic to not killing you.” He side eyed you, “...Annoying ass bitch.”

You weren't even insulted. Because right now, this grown man who was usually so damn glarey and stoic and intimidating was injured severely and almost gave you a pout like some pre teen boy all because you were being decent to him and he felt awkward. You chuckled and Billy tsked with an eye roll but just retorted another ‘Shut up or I'll gut you.’ your way. Same generic shit you've heard for years.

You stopped chuckling and just sighed with a slight smile. “...This is…Weird for me too, ya know. Stuck in the house of the guy that tried to kill me on and off for 15 years…. Being all. Well…Civil.”

Billy shrugged, “I didn't try that hard at all or you'd be dead by now.” I sniffed nonchalantly.

You had to give an eye roll; it was like breathing at this point. God, both men were so arrogant. Billy couldn't possibly admit you beat him. No way. ‘He wasn't trying’ would forever be his excuse.

Billy watched you with his own smug smirk in place at your exasperation. “Your food's done by the way. Don't make a mess or anything if you're even capable of that.”

You went to retort something but he already went outside to have a smoke. You mumbled to yourself, “Asshole.” You mumbled lacking the disdain you usually had. He couldn't do anything nice without being a dick. Go figure. You pushed to rise up

You ate the food he got out of a can some off brand chef boyardee. Really chewing. Kinda scared to eat with how your insides may or may not be injured and stitches reopened from Jill.

The time passed and you didn't know where Billy's remote was for the tv or if it even worked. It looked pretty old. The couch was honestly not that comfortable and had way too ‘natural’ of a smell for your liking. You huffed and sighed the pain mildly dulled by the pills Billy gave you but you finally just decided…There was just too much on your mind. Especially with Billy. Stu was an open book, manipulative but so self serving he was still easy to read. He was acting odd, yeah…But his odd moodiness wasn't in your mind. Besides, he was asleep. You didn't want to wake him.

Billy not killing you, allowing you refuge in his home, helping you fight Jill and Charlie, the moment you both had. That was on your mind.

You put on the jacket you had hanging from Stu grabbing your stuff at the hospital and stepped outside a moment in socks and that gown still.

"What?"

"Nothing just stepping outside. I don't need anything." You gave pulling your jacket tighter around yourself.

Billy was leaning over the railing with his cigarette dwindling and head hanging but looked up and huffed, “Aren't you cold?”

You pulled it closer. “You never gave me that flannel or spare clothes.”

He sighed, “Shit…Well, you don't need to stay in that bloody gown-”

He went to walk but you stopped him. “In a minute. I kinda wanna get fresh air and wouldn't mind company. I'm kinda scared of being alone. It's stupid but after…Everything. I got this irrational paranoia someone is gonna pop out and grab me. Or cops now, apparently.”

"Well, at least I know I can still make you scream from just popping out with a bargain bin mask yelling 'boo!'..." He faltered, then almost softened a bit. Nodding in understanding. “I get it though. I was like that for years.”

“Does the fear of being ‘caught’ ever go away?”

He took a drag and smirked slightly, “Nope.”

You sighed at that and eased onto a lawn chair he had on the porch.

It was silent before you asked, “What is Stu mad about?”

He shrugged, face souring. “Oh who knows. He gets like this. He bull's and manipulates to get his baby ass way…Same as a decade ago apparently.”

You blinked. “Oh.”

“What?”

You fiddled with your jackets zipper, “Just…I thought you both talked this last decade?”

“Please.” Billy wryly smirked. “We aren't ‘friends’ like that. Not now. I used him 15 years ago. He betrayed me for you. We both betrayed each other, I guess…We don't have a need for each other. Haven't talked in over a decade till he called me up saying someone put the mask on again.” He looked distant as he mumbled this to you.

“...So you really don't miss him as a friend?”

“No.” He took a drag and you were skeptical of that but didn't press. “You can't befriend a manipulative self serving guy like him."

"That include you in that?" You retorted.

To your shock, he nodded. "In fact, you can't befriend anyone. I don't care about anyone because no one will care about me.”

"Seriously? You actually think that? That's not true.”

“Oh? Look at Dewey.”

"Don't bring him in this." You quickly glared at him.

"Hey, he's an example. Didn't take him long to turn on you."

“ Dewey got his sister killed by you then thinks I'm with you and Stu and helped hide you both even in 96. That's understandable. I know you gave a shit about your mom and I don't see you too upset over Cotton's death.”

He gave a scowl at you bringing up his mother. “Sorry...Dewey and Randy are sore spots. It's fresh, Billy. But they were my friends for over a decade.”

He relented and nodded That surprised you. “Yeah well, me and Stu aren't friends. We don't get attatched either. We both are too self preserving for that.”

You took that in then frowned in thought. “...But why after all this time do you both keep trying to be…That way? I mean, trusting no one or relying on no one forever?”

He looked at you like you were stupid “To get his way; why else? And for me, it's survival.”

“No, I know that! Duh." You grumbled in irritation "But…Forever? Is survival or getting your way that important? More important than being happy-”

"Happiness is killing." He cut you off. "Contentment is knowing I'm not caught. Survival is making sure of that by not trusting anyone."

A moment of tense silence etched on. It was so disarming hearing him talk like that. Of course you knew he liked murder but he made himself sound like he was like a mindless rapid dog and it's all he knew...Maybe because it was?

“...Why did you both become like this?” You suddenly asked.

Billy wiped his head to look at you, eyes widening. Clearly not expecting that.

You frowned and continued while gazing at the dark road in front of the trailer. “I understand you with your family. I get it you felt like you lost it all but Stu seemed so spoiled and normal. So…Why?”

"Damn, you came out here to do an interview or what?" Billy settled and truly pondered while dangling his cigarette between his teeth. “..Why does Stu manipulate? I don't know. Probably learned early on that's how he gets whatever he wants. It's how I learned after I reached puberty and apparently my looks outweighed my loner attitude. You can be weird and off putting and an asshole and as long as your conventional attractive you can get away with it.” You looked listened, taken aback he was so kandid with you as he continued. “You know how much of an overgrown baby Stu is when he doesn't get his way…He had rich parents that were always gone and an overachieving older sister and he probably just learned to get his way by using people.” He shrugged. “As for why he's the way he is; The hell should I know? He's always been down for murder since day one. Barely had to convince him. In fact, he urged me on. I knew out of anyone I knew; Stu would be the perfect scapegoat if shit went wrong and he was the one down to do whatever we needed.”

'Ah.' You thought to yourself. So…He was always like this? Sadistic, cruel, impulsive, manipulative, brash, charming. It made sense.

"And you?"

"None of your business." He mumbled.

You sighed, "Fair enough." But you still had so much on your mind. “...Do you still…You know.” You gave a pause, trailing your sentence off. “Want me dead?"

Billy stared for a moment before averting his gaze. The silence defeaning while he was taking a drag of his cigarette while thinking. “... I hate your fucking guts and imagine killing you quite often. In great detail at that.”

You hung your head expecting that answer with a wry humorless smirk. Nodding to yourself. Of course. What else did you expect?

Billy eyed you subtle before clearing his throat. "But not right now. Obviously. I don't give my victims Spaghetti-o's."

You had to give a dry chuckle at that and he slighlty smirked at the reaction.

He fiddled with a piece of wood splintered off the porch railing and mumbled, “But, I'll admit…It's not as strong recently. But it's there.” He shrugged with an awkward clearing of his throat as he shifted on his feet. Hanging his head as he leaned over the porch. The night air was getting crisp like it always did this time of year as you pulled the jacket around yourself more. You almost wanted to go in but how often did you talk to Billy without Stu's flirting or crude jokes?

“I…Look um, I never said this. You know about what happened between us in '96. Not calmly anyways...” You ran a hand over your head. “Billy, I just wanted you both to stop killing my friends and trying to kill me, okay? It's the only reason I ever…Did anything. If it wasn't for that, I would've left you both alone if you left me alone.”

“YN.”

“Seriously. I didn't make it a life's mission to kill you or put you behind bars ONLY when you were actively coming after me or my friends. Fuck, you were hunting ME. I-”

“Shut up already.” He looked annoyed but yet there wasn't as much annoyance as he normally possed in the way he spoke to you, “Look, I get it. It's a dog eat dog world. I wasn't innocent or framed…In retrospect…If it wasn't you; it would've been someone else trying to stop me back then. I was overzealous…Only because I was young and pissed off. Kinda glad it was you. You chickened out and it made me live.”

“Yeah, you're welcome.” You sarcastically gave.

Billy actually chuckled dryly, “Ah, there's that bitch I fight with. Thought she was gone and replaced by the sniveling wuss I've been seeing.”

“Whatever.” You gave with a heavy frown. “Not exactly in the joking mood with someone still admitting to wanting to imagine killing me after the night I had ."

Billy smiled in amusement. “Stop being so melodramatic. I told you; If I wanted you dead I'd do it. I have control of my urges, I'm not a dog like Stu.” He looked up at the sky. “...Why are you really out here?”

“Fresh air.”

“Shit liar, as usual. If you came out her to ask a million questions and bother me then just ask the big one and get it over with.”

You scoffed, brow twitching at him calling you out...There were a lot of reasons, “Fine…Stu then.” You only told half the truth. “He's behaving weird and it has me on edge.”

“Ah…Well a decade ago you followed me out on my smoke break cause Stu and you pissed me off. Here you are once again. And Stu is the common denominator. He gets on his little hyperfixations and it's like a bull seeing red and neither of us wanna deal with that.” He took a drag of his cigarette. “Only this one is you.”

“Me?”

“Yeah. You.” He blew out smoke then put out his dwindling cigarette. “Something about you always has him in one tizzy or another. You're like an obsession for him.”

“That's comforting.” You sarcastically mumbled. “But it makes sense. He's probably still mad that I'm not running into his arms.” The silence stretched out before you looked at him, “But my question isn't entirely Stu. Stu is probably doing this to see if I get another chance with him or boredom something...Why are you doing this?”

“Doing what?”

“Being…Decent to me. Last time I saw you we had a screaming match in my yard in the pouring rain and you almost killed me in my cabin. We said some harsh things.”

“Like how I can't kill you?” He jeered with a glare. “...Makes me wanna kill you right now, actually, out of pure spite. Just to prove a point. So how about not bringing up old shit?”

You didn't even fight back. Just slumping your shoulders. “Yeah…Fine.” You looked up at the sky. “I have nothing. No weapons. No one to help me…So, if you want to kill me…You can. No remarks just…Whatever.”

He stared at you. “...Well not if you're gonna be so pathetic about it. Takes all the fun out of it.” He offered a wry smirk.

You just tsked and rolled your eyes not too use this…Joking, helpful, decent Billy. Not since High school when it was supposedly all an act according to him.

He grew more serious as you didn't reply or smile. “YN, I can kill you. But there's no fun or reason when you're already so down. I have waited too long to kill you to do it when you're boring.”

You scoffed in disgust, “What am I? Game? I gotta run and fight for you to kill me?”

He shrugged with a smugbsmirk while smoking his cigarette.

You just narrowed your eyes and looked away. The silence etched on before Billy lit another cigarette. “If you're gonna bother me out here, let's not talk about killing or what we could or should have done. Let's change the subject...So… You're a writer now? Big hotshot writer, huh? Looking down on all the little people and Sidney's bratty cousin supposedly wanted a piece of that life too?”

“Hardly. My publicists edited my work so much it might as well have been ghost written…Jill can have it. I don't want fame. I never did.” You gave a glum sigh in reply.

“Never?”

“Hell no.” You retorted bitterly. “I only wrote to make money and appease people.”

“Okay, what about ‘In Darkness’?”

…

That made you pause a beat or two.

You gave him an odd look. It completely took you out of your funky mood because…No, that must have been a slip of the tongue.

“You mean ‘Out of Darkness’?”

He eyed you, “No. In Darkness…By Robert Gray.” He gave matter of factly. A coy smile playing on his lips as you looked shocked. “Ah, that name is familiar to you, huh?”

“How…How did you??-”

No one knew about your fictional books that tanked on the side of writing ‘Out of Darkness’ for your ex publicists. Not even Randy when he was discarding the ‘cheap’ books off the table in his book store days ago including the one secretly written by you. He had no idea as he mumbled how no one read them. You just didn't say anything because of how badly it did.

You were so flabbergasted it creeped you out! Damn! Was Billy stalking you or something?? How of all people did he know your secret hobby??

Billy sighed heavily. Turning and leaning back on the railing as he answered your question. “...I don't know. Robert Gray? Pennywise's alter ego? The movie we obsessed over that one year calling Randy Ritchie just because he looked just like Seth Green's geeky ass just without the glasses? Remember Stu shoved those fake Halloween ones on his face to prove it?”

You…You actually smiled a little. So he did remember things, huh? Just like he tried acting like he remembered nothing from High School in Taco Bell's parking lot a decade ago.

“Then the whole title of in Darkness versus out of Darkness; do you think you're really smart or everyone else is extremely dumb?”

You couldn't help the shocked snort of laughter that escaped past your lips. Billy almost always made an effort to forget anything to do with your friendship in the past and here he made you remember a memory that actually started the whole ‘Seth Green versus Randy’ joke to begin with! Probably why Randy hated it so much because Billy of all people started it as a mockery. You had forgotten about it, really. You stared in a bit of wonder before…

Billy faltered looking shocked, “... Why are you crying, the fuck?” He almost panicked seeming unnerved by you just having tears springing to your eyes.

It was both happy and sad tears that involuntarily welled in your eyes at a much happier memory with a friend you just lost. “Sorry, sorry! Just brought back a good memory.” You said whilr smiling and wiping your eyes.

"Well, stop it!" He frowned but just blew air past his lips. “It's...It's too weird seeing you like this. Stop or I'm leaving. I mean it." He ordered with a scowl.

You shrugged but nodded still smiling at the memory. Momentarily forgetting Randy's death in place of young him pouting with a blush as you all laughed and replied ‘beep beep Ritchie’ after Billy pointed it out. Then it just snowballed to him being Seth Green as a playful jab to any nerdy character the actor played. Randy barely even looked like him; it was more just to get a reaction out of him.

But a much more shocking realization hit you.

“You really read it. I can't believe it…You…You read it? You read "In Darkness" by Robert Gray?”

“You mean by YN? Yeah…Yeah, I did. You make a smart ass remark about me being able to read and I'll toss you off this porch and onto the fence post.”

You ignored his bristling and mumbled, “I don't understand…Why? How?” You were so bewildered not expecting this at all.

The silence stretched out again as he seemed to ponder what he should tell you or even how much.

“A lot has happened in a decade…” He seemed to be getting a bit apprehensive. “Was dirt poor many times with work on and off. No cable once or twice and sometimes squatting in abandoned places too…I found the book and the pen name caught my eye. It was…Kinda just in a bargain bin. Anyways, I'm not usually a bookworm but what else did I have to do? So, I read it and…Fell in...I uh-” He stopped himself. “I really…Understood some characters, okay?”

You grinned.

"Ew, don't give me that look either. I don't like you, we're not friends, I still imagine gutting you-"

It fell on deaf ears. You were just flattered and excited to finally talk about your writing. Even shy and embarrassed at your creative writing on full display like this.

Billy side eyed you though. “But the one character…Fucking Bobby? Really? Bobby Lewis?”

You gave a grinning sort of cringe almost embarrassed to be caught. “Yeeaahhh…”

He rolled his eyes, “You wrote a character about me. Made him the troubled kid with mommy issues that was manipulated by the darkness like a pansy ass…I should punch for that or even gut you. And I swear to God, if you hinted Bobby was gay for Stan-” He gave you a menacing glare that made you shrink sheepishing back in your seat.

“No! No, honestly that scene was meant to be like they both are taken over by the 'darkness' they both share.” He side eyed you more. “Honest.”

“I doubt it. I should just at least backhand you for it.” But his tone wasn't very menacing as he snuffed out his cigarette in an old cracked ashtray that was sitting on his porch railing.

“...And?” You urged, curious what he thought. “Was it god awful?”

"Fucking horrible. Wanted to throw it away after a few pages. I'd hide my name too if I were you."

He looked surprised you chuckled, accepting it was deemed unpopular years ago.

He looked down a bit with an odd pondering expression which was something you hadn't seen in so long you forgot he was human enough to do it. “Well...Maybe you did okay. Not great but…Well shit, you acted like you actually knew what you were talking about. Like, you understood me. Like you could actually understand me of all people.” He rolled his eyes saying the last bit sarcastically.

“So, when did you realize it was you I wrote?”

He glanced over, “...When I found out it was you. Two damn years after reading this book…It's embarrassing, really. Your shitty little novel.”

You smiled in understanding. “When I came out with 'Out of Darkness'…Gave it away, hm?”

“Yep. Especially when a line in ‘In Darkness’ stuck out…Word for word the sentence was what I told you in that backyard when ‘Bobby’ goes to kill ‘Daisy’ by strangling her before the ‘Darkness’ takes over…I still got to beat the writer's ass for killing off my favorite character in the novel later on.” He joked wryly about you killing off his character.

“So…You read both my books? I thought you didn't? Thought you wanted to throw it in the trash after a few pages?” You teased.

“Oh shut the hell up.” He grumbled out. "I'm not too nice not to hit you, at least."

You couldn't help the snort of amusement. Not sharing this type of conversation with him in a very long time. The murder part shockingly felt…Well after tonight, it felt like a distant memory. “Yeah, that moment changed my life. In my parents backyard when…All this happened.” You admitted giving a broad hand gesture to the situation.

“You and me both…”

The silence stretched on but you felt lighter. Hearing what he had said. You sighed. “I'm glad you didn't hate it but it won't matter. My book sucked.”

“You think that?”

“Yeah. It tanked.” You admitted.

“…It wasn't that bad.” He countered with annoyance. "I was just...Pulling your leg it wasn't the worst thing I've read."

“It was. No one read it but a handful of people.”

“No one hardly reads a lot of books but some went on to be horror movie classics, dumbass.”

You raised a brow at his insistence. “I appreciate that but really I got turned down so much. It's why I changed my pen name so no one knew me. Just like you said-”

“Well, fuck them. I'm joking, idiot! They don't know what they're talking about. They weren't there. They got fiction from horse's mouth and still can't see it…You got the ability; You just gave up too quickly.” He almost seemed insulted. “It was dark. There was no sugarcoating. Now that may not be that sickening motivation book you wrote that got you rich but it had substance. I would gladly read a book of someone baring their innermost dark thoughts and showing the world not every story is a happy ending then unicorn shit self help garbage that's just lying to hopeful people.”

“...Cynical as always.” You looked over at him. “You mean it, though?...”

Billy faltered, looking down but shrugged. “Yeah…Yeah, I do.”

The awkwardness just wasn't going away with the gigantic elephant in the room. After a minute of you both in the chilly air not talking you finally said it. Getting some courage after his admission about your book.

“You really don't feel the same about me like you did a decade ago, do you? Can we just admit that? Please? Just be honest.”

He shrugged but didn't answer.

“Well, I'm asking because…I guess…I don't either.” Your face heated as you reluctantly admitted it. A lump in your chest that felt uncomfortable. “I mean, what we said and did last night should prove it.”

You were startled as he shoved off the railing to hobble on the porchas he went to go back inside abruptly.

“Billy, can we just talk about what we said-”

“No.” He cut you off.

“No?? Billy, what the hell-”

“I SAID, no.” He gave you a glare you saw so many times from him. “We were dying, losing blood, hallucinating probably, it was… Nothing!”

You didn't know why that both hurt and annoyed you but it did. You glared back because last night he said it! Said you were his and always had been now he wants to take it back after everything? After saving each other and almost dying and him being one of the few people to enjoy a book you put your heart into and now staying at his house? You shoved your hands in your pocket and remembered something else that needed to be said…

“Billy, we are grown adults. You admitted I was yours.”

“To kill.”

"Nuh uh. Do not do that. You said I was yours-"

"To kiilllll." He drew out in irritation.

You rolled your eyes, “Oh my God...This again? Billy, just admit it! You don't hate me as much as you claim and I don't hate you." He didn't look at you but you saw his eyes widen slighlty at that. "We had a RARE moment important moment, damn it.”

He scoffed loudy and turned back to you with narrowed dark eyes. “YN, drop it! I was nice over a fucking shitty book, don't think we're friends here or god forbid whatever you're getting at, freak. I never did like you the way Stu did so get over yourself!” He grew irritated before you just did it.

“Alright. Fine. You're just asking for it.” You stood up slowly in pain but reached into your jacket.

“...What is that?” He looked confused as you unraveled the note. The one that had been in your jacket pocket for 2 or 3 days and needed to be addressed eventually. Thank God it wasn't searched at the hospital and Stu nabbed this jacket. You'd have to thank him somehow.

You cleared your throat, “...I can't fight this anymore. Not after fighting for our lives the way we did. Life is short, I know we went through so much but I have to tell you this-”

You had never seen Billy look so embarrassed in his life! Even his olive complexion showed a deep redness in his cheeks and his eyes widened to the size of saucer plates. “W-Where did you get that-” He stammered out as you got farther away from him and kept reading.

“I have to tell you this…I never thought we'd make it and I'm glad you lived-”

“Give me the damn paper, YN!” He demanded rushing with his bum leg to snatch it as you easily evaded even if you too were injured. But at least your legs worked.

You went through him trying to blame Neil like the original plan was, “You're so lucky Mr Prescott gave you a shallow wound-” You gave him a dirty look as he was gonna give that to you and blame Neil. “Yada yada yada, blah blah blah, bullshit bullshit…Oh, I have to move on. We all do. That's why I have to tell you this-”

“YN! I swear to fucking God!” He exclaimed frantically trying to grab you or that paper as you both played a turtle pace version of keep away on the porch.

“I didn't know how much we needed each other till our lives depended on it. I'm falling for you.” You smacked the paper against your leg. “Along with a photo of me in your room! And a plan to meet at the water tower so you could ask me out or kill me but I SERIOUSLY doubt it because you would've killed me at the party or made letters to others and you definitely wouldn't have my picture if it was just to kill me.”

“How did you get that!?” He exclaimed with his fist clenched.

“Me and Randy raided your old house for evidence on the new killer a few days ago. Found this-” You shook the paper as it rattled. “Under the floorboard of your room.”

Billy's mouth hung open as he was so mortified at what you found. He quickly went to rush off the porch; anywhere but here before you risked grabbing his arm.

He glared at you and yanked it away, “What!? What more do you want, you damn arrogant noisey pain in my ass? Why are you bringing up skeletons that need to stay buried!?”

“Because you said I was yours last night!” You exclaimed. All before faltering. “...And I said I don't hate you…And…And…I didn't finish but…Fuck it. That I still give a damn. I still give a damn. I think we both half ass admitted to that a decade ago at my cabin and we're just being stubborn. I'm not saying love, I'm not that mushy or gullible please give me SOME credit but...I don't hate you even though I should.” You coughed out just as awkward as he was.

He stared at you. All before looking away curtly. “It doesn't matter. You are mine to kill okay? That's…That's what it was with this letter too. It's all it ever was. I was just luring you to the water tower to kill you and kept your picture as motivation. And last night? We're not friends, YN. We never were even in Woodsboro …I told you I was faking it and I meant it. Don't take me being merciful for actually liking someone like you.”

"Someone like me?"

"You want your feelings hurt so you can cry some more? I feel like you've done enough of that tonight." He coldly gave.

You stared at him and frowned. You actually…Wow, that actually hurt and you didn't want to know why but it did.

He averted his gaze, “Just don't go showing that stupid letter to Stu or you're getting tied up and dropped off at a police station, got it? I don't need his bullshit.”

You nodded with a tight frown. “Yeah…Yeah. Understood just wanted to clear things up…”

“Yeah well, they're cleared.” He jeered whilevlooking down at the ground and going back inside.

You sighed heavily feeling like you fucked it up again. You were actually bonding a bit and you just had to bring up the elephants in the room. And the harsh reality just made everything worse. A part of you felt like he was lying but it hurt nonetheless.

Little did you know…A certain someone wasn't sleeping. He was listening through the window he cracked open... Fist clenched tightly as his suspicion on you and Billy confirmed itself in his eyes.

————————

Billy got away from you and went straight to the bathroom. Locking the door away from you and Stu.

As soon as that door closed he slumped against the door frame and his stoic expression gave way to a vulnerability he'd never show anyone else. Feeling like a teen boy with a crush and he hated it. He hated it so damn much and would die before admitting it. Seeing you again just made all of this ten times worse.

He was so embarrassed over you finding that letter, and yet…His heart sped up a bit. He actually blushed. He hadn't felt that since High school with you. What a fool. A 33 year old moron getting all giddy over you just not hating him. He…Felt disgusting butterflies as you smirked and teased him with that damn blast from his past.

He felt so ridiculous. Crushing on you was weak ass Stu's job! But deep down…He knew. He knew himself well enough to know he was just scared of it. Look what happened last time he admitted his feelings to you? You ruined everything. You betrayed him. You were supposed to help them and instead you tried to turn them in. Now, you were a successful grown woman with a grown woman's body and nice perfume and hair and probably a better car than he could ever afford and dressed more mature and had more money than God and he was a psychotic grumpy loser living in a trailer with outdated furniture and nothing to offer not even emotionally. And to top it all off, you all were in hiding on the run from the law now.

And out of every woman ever…It was you. And he knew it. He knew a decade ago in the rain in your yard but couldn't admit it, not even to himself. No woman can go toe to toe with him, no woman could outwit him, no woman was as deep and interesting as you, no woman knew the pain he did but you.

He sighed heavily and looked in the mirror. 15 years ago he looked in that mirror crying how much he hated you and wanted you dead…Now it was pretending to keep up the act he hated you and wanted you dead. It's like he spent so long shutting these emotions off and now they were barreling into him and he had no experience to change it. His last serious girlfriend was Sidney. All others were flings and one night stands. How did he deal with…Feelings? Weak, vulnerable, human feelings he tried to shut off? He wasn't like Stu who didn't feel love like a normal person. Oh no, Billy was cursed with just being a kid that snapped after feeling psychotic and yet he still had feelings towards people he just got very good at shutting off and trying not to get attached...You were the one attachment it seemed after years of persistence wouldn't go away. He knew arrogance and anger and power and revenge and lust and bloodlust but…God, he couldn't even say the word in his head without wanting to scream at the nasty corny messiness of it…Love. Christ, just shoot him! Between the motherfucking eyes!

Billy braced the sink looking at his reflection with sadness. Disappointment in himself. He realized years ago he didn't want to kill you and he was just playing tough as always. And after reading that book you didn't sugarcoat ‘Bobby’ but you didn't make him a monster either. You made him a vulnerable weak man angry at the world that let the darkness in and it felt like you knew him. No one knew him! If he hadn't read that stupid book of yours; he'd never feel so icky right now, damn it all!

He shoved a hand over his face to groan at the sickening feeling in his stomach that wasn't where he was stabbed as he remembered the sad look you gave him. He could kill just about anybody and could kill you but somehow these last few years you weaseled your way over his steel walls he built up. You were cornered, vulnerable, had nothing and no one and he still couldn't just be honest with himself let alone you. He could manipulate you to be his love obsessed slave if he wanted but he didn't want manipulation. He couldn't even say the damn word! Sidney was so easy to manipulate! You used to be! So what the fuck was the problem?!

He growled low in his throat at himself and glared in the mirror to himself as he put the sink on full blast to drown out any noise. “Stop it! You're being pathetic and weak! You're being a pussy whipped bitch right now! You are a fucking serial killer, damn it! She tried to turn you in, she tossed your caring aside once already, she tried to kill you, got your mother killed and acted just like…” He faltered as memories that held grudges onto were failing him…His mother was sicker, sicker than even he was. He knew deep down she got herself killed but he still had to blame you. It made it easier that way.

He saw his Mom's reflection in his mirror behind him, she tried talking. “Oh Billy…Billy, Billy, Billy-” And he just turned his head away. He had gotten use to seeing images of his mother in hallucinations over the years whenever he was sad or scared or vulnerable. He knew it wasn't real and just learned to cope like he did with murder and anything else.

“She is the enemy, Billy.” His Mom scolded. “She hurt you and used you, my son, my boy. If it wasn't for the cops; you think she'd be here? Don't be so naive!”

He sighed, running his hands through his shorter dark hair and saying out loud. “Stop! I don't need to hear it, I know! I know. Do NOT get attached anymore. Let her heal enough to not get us all caught and if I can't kill her then send her the fuck on her way.”

His thoughts were interrupted by you coming in and hearing Stu yell at you.

Son of a bitch…Fuck his life right now.

#scream #stu macher #billy loomis #my writing #scream fanfiction #yn fanfic #she her yn #my stories #scream 4 #fours a franchise

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thechaoticdruid · 4 months

Text

Seriously, now!?

Astarion x Named!Tav

Plot: (Set in late act 1 early act 2) After causing a scene, embarrassing and being shouted at by their own resident wizard, Winnie storms off alone to sulk. Her monthly bleeding is upon her and is making everything seem so much worse! But perhaps her vampiric lover can make it all better?

Warnings/content: Period comfort fic (because I needed it), emotional MC, soft Astarion, Galeshaming (I'm sorry for constantly bullying Gale), Winnie is honestly being a bit petty, but Astarion doesn't care really, he's on her side anyway, angst, fluff, comfort, a wee bit of smut at the end, oral (female receiving), MDNI, possibly ooc moments, possible grammar/ spelling mistakes.

After finding only disappointment and danger from their failure at the githyanki creché, Winnie and her merry band of weirdos were now turning towards the mountain path that would lead them onward to Moonrise. They'd run into a little confrontation on the way, had to fight some undead baddies and then met face to face with the famed 'Elminster.' Winnie had no idea who he was, nor did she really care. All she was concerned with was that this guy came into her camp ate all HER cheese and then told her friend his ex wanted him to go kill himself. Needless to say the young druid was not that impressed. Despite dreaming of being a wizard as a child, Winnie had never heard of this man before. The village she was born in had been pretty cut off from the rest of the world so all the stories of heroes from all over were never told to the children living there.

"I can't believe you! Picking a fight with an old man." Gale exclaimed looking over at Winnie with disapproval.

"Last I thought you said the old man was the strongest wizard in the world." Winnie tilted her head in confusion.

"That's no excuse to get into a fist fight with him! Didn't your parents teach you to respect your elders?!" Gale shouted.

"My Gran taught me to kick ass if someone takes what is mine. Especially my food." Winnie huffed and crossed her arms. Granted Archdruid Winnifred the first was known for being a crazy old crone with a fiery temper and some outdated views. She also seemed much too calm when her husband apparently died in an owlbear attack.

Ah, but Winnie still missed her.

"Oh come on wizard, Winnie's little show was absolutely hilarious! Ahaha!" Astarion giggled. The elven vampire had been watching the chaotic scene unfold with a shit eating grin the entire time. The fact that the druid used none of her powers or weapons just made it all the better. Hells she even bit the old man.

"Hilarious!? She attacked one of the greatest wizards this world has ever known over cheese!!! A child has more restraint for gods' sake!"

"Oh, suck my dick!" Winnie snarled, quite literally making a wolfish growl at the bearded man before stomping off. Gale rubbed his temples before slumping off to his own tent.

"Winnie is rather eccentric at the best of times, but usually not this vicious." Shadowheart piped up, stepping over to join the vampire spawn.

"She has a temper, but I agree she's been acting more irritable than usual. You wouldn't know anything about this would you fangs?" Karlach asked looking over at Astarion.

"Must you assume whenever something goes wrong it's my fault?" Astarion crossed his arms.

"No one is accusing you of anything yet, but you have practically been glued to Winnie's backside as of late." Shadowheart raised an eyebrow.

"Just wanted to know if you knew if there was something going on." The tiefling female added. Astarion rolled his eyes before looking over in the direction of where Winnie had wandered off.

"Oh there is something going on, not that I'm the type to gossip about a woman's personal matters." Astarion ran a hand through his ivory curls.

"Fangs, we all know that's complete bullshit." Karlach looked at him with an unamused expression.

"Well, not about this! It's different. Even I have limits you know." Astarion murmured. He was well aware of Winnie's predicament, and if he had been completely honest he definitely would have gossiped about this sort of thing if it had been anyone else. "But perhaps I can go and calm our feisty little wolf down." The high elf suggested, hoping to keep the others from asking any more questions.

"Alright I'll go try to console Gale I think he's screaming into his pillow again...." Karlach mentioned before her and Shadowheart walked off.

Astarion looked over to where Winnie had wandered up, finding her curled up on her bed-roll under some trees. Winnie whimpered and groaned, clutching her lower stomach in pain.

"In a spot of bother are we?" Astarion looked down at her.

"Leave me alone Astarion!" Winnie snapped before covering herself in her blankets.

"Oh come on, don't be like that. I'm only here to help." Astarion sat down on the bed-roll next to her. "I know you're still mad that the mean wizard yelled at you, but if you want I can go and break his legs? Would that make you happy, dear?" Astarion practically cooed, a small smile formed on his lips as he ran a hand over her back.

"Maybe...." Winnie mumbled and glanced up at him. Astarion smirked, "I thought so." He gently caressed her head.

"I'm.....Sorry....I...I haven't been myself lately...." Winnie confessed before wincing again in pain.

"I know. I can smell the blood..." Astarion said calmly. Winnie turned bright red before hiding her face in her pillow.

"This is so embarrassing!" Winnie whimpered into her pillow. Astarion sighed before laying beside her.

"Well if it's any consolation...You smell absolutely delicious." He grinned looking over her before receiving a light smack on the chest.

"Don't be gross!" Winnie huffed, and then looked up at Astarion who was just staring at her. "I don't want to think about anything.... going on down there....right now... It's too uncomfortable..." She mumbled, before burying her head back into her pillow. Astarion frowned. Comfort was really not his thing. Whenever Winnie was feeling down, usually due to insecurities about her appearance he'd just bed her, compliment her and she'd be happy, but this was different. If she didn't want to be touched he was a little bit at a loss of what to do. Still, these gods damned feelings urged him to try something. Despite his best efforts to avoid it, he was growing attached to her.

"Come back to my tent darling." Astarion whispered as he pushed some of the druid's messy hair behind her ear.

"Astarion I just told you-"

"Not for that. I promise, just let me take care of you." Astarion sat up, looking down at the human female with a softening gaze. Winnie turned towards him and sighed.

"Fine..."

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

Winnie followed Astarion back to his tent with her things, she waited a moment for him to go inside and to take care of a few things before entering and setting her stuff down. She placed her bedroll and blankets down before noticing him placing pillows down around her stuff. She stared at him, curiously. Was this all some kind of plot? She wasn't so sure why he seemed to care this much. Astarion would usually mock someone else's pain. Sure the two of them had been sleeping together, but Astarion was quick to return to his usual apathetic self once out of the bedroom so to speak. Mocking any acts of heroism she did.

"Wait here I'll be back." Astarion ruffled her hair with a soft smile. Winnie laid there on the bedding, nuzzled her face into one of the cushy pillows Astarion had set out for her.

He'll probably just want to feed on me later.... That's it.

Winnie reached into her pack and took out a small worn out green dragon plush holding it to her chest for comfort as she curled up.

The others probably made him go after me because I was acting like a lunatic.....They all probably hate me now....

Tears began form in the corners of her eyes as she slid there. Winnie laid her head on one of the pillows before taking in the nice earthy scent of bergamot and rosemary. Her heart ached as she thought about the elf. The druid knew in her heart that it was meaningless, that he was just using her for his own gain, but she just smiled and went along with it, wanting to stay lost in him for as long as she could. With Astarion she felt something no one had ever given her before. She felt wanted. Even if it was all just a beautiful lie.

Winnie huffed, squeezing her eyes shut as tears forced their way out and began to drip down her cheeks.

She could see it happening almost vividly how he'd approach her eventually after everything at Moonrise was settled and done with.

"What were you expecting, some fairytale prince?" He'd laugh at her naivety and shake his head when began to tear up. "This is what I do. I give you a moment of escape with a world endingly beautiful vampire and you satisfy my needs. Cheer up. There's really no one better you could have spent your first time with. Especially with how homely you are."

Winnie sobbed quietly into the pillow. Her mind running wild with self loathing thoughts, imagining several different ways Astarion would break it off with her. Eventually after a while the tent flap opened and she felt a breeze brush over her cheek though she refused to look over. Astarion slipped in, carrying a well stuffed sack over his shoulder. His crimson eyes gazed over Winnie's plump curvaceous form as he sat down beside her on the bed-roll. Astarion set down the sack near the entrance of the tent before looking over Winnie further.

"Darling, I'm back." He said softly before noticing the little stuffed dragon in her arms. "What's this? Really dear a stuffed animal? You're twenty three years-" Astarion stopped his snarky comment as he noticed Winnie's red puffy eyes, her nose sniffling.

"Winnie....Did Gale come by while I was gone? Did he say something to you?" Astarion clenched his fist, about ready to go and shove the wizard inside his own bag of holding.

"No.... Nothing happened..." Winnie muttered. Astarion sighed in relief before looking back at the sack he brought with him. He opened it, taking out some wine and setting it down near the bedding.

"Then why have you been crying, my sweet?" Astarion asked, a worried frown formed over his face. "Was it something I said?"

Winnie huffed and looked back at him.

"No...I'm.......I'm just overwhelmed... Everyone depends on me and now I've gone and made myself look like a fool." Winnie said, half lying and half telling the truth. "And my bleeding isn't making it any better."

Astarion then proceeded to hand the bottle of wine to her. "Perhaps this will help your mood." Winnie looked over the bottle before drinking some. The flavor was sweet with a faint hint of bitterness masked by blackberries. She set it down before noticing Astarion fiddling with the sack again.

"I may have found a rather generous merchant nearby." The pale elf added as he took out a wooden plate with a wedge of cheese and a chicken leg on it. Winnie practically drooled at the sight before shaking her head and thinking.

"Generous? Astarion, what did you do to him?" The druid crossed her arms.

"Nothing! I assure you, he is still very much alive. I didn't hurt him....Much..." Astarion said muttering out the last part with a smirk as he thought back to how he left the merchant tied to a tree after robbing him. Winnie sighed before suddenly grabbing hold of the cheese and taking a bite. Her face almost instantly relaxed into a smile as she savored the taste biting into the chicken next. Astarion watched her contently as he made himself comfortable on the bed-roll beside her. She finished the food before setting the plate to the side and relaxing.

"Thank you. I think I feel a bit better now." Winnie murmured before looking back at Astarion.

"Happy to help, although I do expect to be paid back in full for my trouble." Astarion smiled, lips forming an awkward looking grinch like grin.

"Oh....Um... Would this work?" She pulled down her shirt, exposing her neck and shoulder to him.

"A kiss will do for now." He said, moving her hand away from her neck. Winnie blushed darkly before nodding. The brunette haired female leaned in with her lips puckered before pressing them to his sweetly. Her kiss was chaste and innocent as in lingered upon his lips. He cupped her face, returning it before pulling back and pecking her forehead.

"Ahh!" Winnie grunted in pain as Astarion pulled away, hand moving down clutch her abdomen.

"Fucking hells, why does my body hate me!" She cursed.

"Probably getting back at you for not letting me inside." Astarion joked before moving closer to her. He moved a hand over her stomach. "May I? I won't do anything perverse. I promise."

Winnie bit her lip for a moment before nodding. Astarion slid his hand under her shirt and began to rub soothing gentle circles around her lower stomach. Winnie sighed in relief, before leaning against him. Astarion smiled and laid his head on her shoulder, continuing his motions.

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

The next day Gale looked around searching for one of his wizard tomes he'd forgotten he lent to Winnie just a few days prior. The wizard groaned at the prospect of possibly invoking the moody druid's wrath once more, but that was indeed a very important book! Quickly he made his way over to where he remembered Winnie had set up camp before eventually being met with an empty space.

He turned and retraced his steps before looking over to Astarion's crimson red tent with curiosity.

The wizard stepped over towards the shelter cautiously until the faint sound of soft feminine whimpers hit his ears. Inside the tent Winnie laid back against the bed-roll, pillow pulled over her bright red face as she moaned into it. All the while Astarion had his head buried between her legs, one of her thick thighs slung over his shoulder as he feasted on her.

"Uh....Winnie....D-Do you still have that tome I lent you?" The wizard stammered out, face turning bright red.

Astarion's brows knit together in annoyance before he pulled his tongue out of the druid's cunt.

"She's currently quite occupied, Gale. Now do piss off!" The vampire hissed out before returning to ravishing the human female. Winnie herself wasn't able to form any coherent sentences while the pale elf had her in his clutches, but eventually later on she returned Gale's book to him and eventually apologized for the scene she caused yesterday.

~•~•~•~•~•~•~•~•~•~•~•~•~•~•~•~•~•~•~•~•~•~•~•~

Note from TheChaoticDruid: Hope you enjoyed! I admit this is a completely self indulgent fic that was kinda a spur of the moment thing. I've seen a lot of period comfort fics that more so focus on the pain and mess than the emotional aspects of it so I wanted to put a bit of focus on that, cause honestly when it happens to me I have a tendency to be rather mean. Of course this is a little exaggerated for laughs in the beginning, but sometimes when it happens you feel like everyone is out to get ya and you wanna tear people's heads off over the littlest of things. I was a little afraid I might have made Astarion a little too soft, but given it's close to his act 2 confession I think it can maybe work.

~Druid

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aldryrththerainbowheart · 5 months

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Another BG3 companions appreciation post, this time after the tiefling party. (Updated ver.)

When I say I love all the companions what I mean is I love all their traits, even the negative ones.

I love Gale who flexed big words and magical knowledge and his connections to Mystra since day one. Call me crazy but without knowing the background I AM impressed by his achievements and knowledge. Of course, his ambition led him too close to the sun, and like the fabled Icarus, he fell. But he's trying to make amends. He's completely surrended to the idea of finding an empty lonely spot for himself and dying alone in excruciating pain and filled with regret. Not even once did it cross his mind that Tav or others would want to continue journeying with him after he confesses about the orb. The moment he told me about his cat I stared at the screen in disbelief because I knew I'm suck his di-

I love Lae'zel who could've killed me right away on the Nautiloid but instead shared all the information with me, helped me fight my way through, tolerated everyone else, and from what I've seen from others Githyanki is actually really nice. She never lets Shadowheart's sneers get to her, offers Gale to teach him to fight, and answers all questions Wyll asks her about her culture. I was genuinely surprised when she not only complied when I ordered her around during the interrogation of Zorru or the confrontation of the Githyanki patrol but also thanked me for stepping in. Her honest, no-nonsense attitude is so refreshing in the story where everyone has secrets and you always know only half of the information if any at all. Everyone in the camp is hiding something from Tav except her. Say what you want but with Lae'zel, what you see is what you get and I really, really like that.

I love Shadowheart because she tries to be a bad guy but that just isn't her. Despite her church's teachings and her secretive and prickly attitude. At the end of the day, she's just a lonely, scared, and lost young woman who was put on a dangerous mission and is expected to deal with it alone. I don't know much about her yet but it's clear from her talks about Sune and various scriptures I found in the game about Dark Justiciars and clerics of Shar... and in all those stories, when they finally got the recognition of their goddess or they've completed their task, all that awaited them was emptiness... That's no way to live for Shadowheart. I can see the small glimpses, just like in Lae'zel, of desire, curiosity and so much want. She was forced to live in a place that forbade any individuality or anything except blind obedience. To just be a pawn for the big guy. But both she and Lae'zel could be so much more than that. Drinking up everything the world has to offer. I really wish that for them.

I love Wyll because...it's Wyll?!? I cannot stress enough how much I am fond of characters that are just good, kind, and selfless. I never get tired of heroic characters who honestly are in it just for helping people. Wyll was living a life of leisure and could be the prodigal son for the rest of his life. Instead, he picked up his sword, donned his stupid superhero name, and went on saving lives. He even went as far as making a deal with the devil just so he could be the hero of the people, not because he enjoyed the fame but because of his ever-present need for charity. He doesn't let anything, not even the tadpole or Mizora get in his way. He could've been one of those Martyrs who blindly follow the black-and-white definition of good and bad, killing Karlach right away. But he spared her, even if all it gained him was punishment. There's something so pure about him in the way he just wants to believe. I'm pretty sure he saw his fair share of fucked up shit while adventuring but he still wants to uphold these ideals of heroism. The boyish chuckle when I insisted that I wanted to dance with him... I'm not smiling like an idiot you do!

I love Astarion not for being the seductive vampire fantasy I thought him to be, but for the absolute chaos gremlin menace he truly is. He's the orange cat, the possum screaming at you from a garbage can, the raccoon hugging a chewed piece of moldy bread. His snark is impeccable, and his over-the-top mannerisms never fail to make me grin like a maniac. I'm strictly good-aligned but I watch him run around causing Situations and I'm like "Yes, you do that sweetheart. You deserve it." There are already many long detailed posts that describe shit he's been through so I'll only say this. I never pitied him or felt sorry for him. I admire him. Sure his path to recovery is nothing short of a mess. He hasn't had much chance at a good ending. But he took every fight kicking and screaming, not willing to give up and he has my respect for that. Because sometimes hope comes in the form of spite and anger. I love watching him rediscover himself at all points in life. I love Astarion the way he is (little shit) while simultaneously believing he can get better, and if that's wrong I don't wanna be right.

Ugh. I'll edit this later and other companions, I'm too tired now.

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kudzuoath · 10 months

Text

Green-Eyed Regard

An unexpected visitor takes up with Temperance on the road to Baldur's Gate. She can't say she ever felt so worried about gaining the approval of a cat. Or more specifically, Gale's tressym, Tara.

–

There was a weight on her chest.

Temperance went from sleep to wakefulness between one breath and the next. Eyes still closed, she feigned dreaming and took in what she could. That pressure of course – very slight – the sound of Gale’s steady breathing, the crackle of the campfire beyond the tent they shared.

Nothing like the scent of blood disturbed the peace of the night. There were no shouts, barks, owlbear screeches.

Wary, she opened one eye.

The calico face of a cat swam out of the darkness above her. Luminous, judging eyes peered down at her from about two inches in front of her nose.

“Ah. There. I was wondering how long you were going to feign your disinterest in the one who has so graciously decided to perch upon you,” she said.

Temperance blinked. The cat was talking. She – no, she hadn’t taken a potion of animal speaking. They’d run out of those ages ago. And besides, she must have been asleep for hours before this point. The quality of light through the cracked tent flap was paler than it would have been if it were still the middle of the night.

Well.

She might as well embrace the strangeness.

“My apologies,” she croaked, voice rough with sleep.

The cat seemed to sit up straighter, lifting her face and making a little ‘mrrp’ of approval. The shift revealed more of her fluffy body – including a lovely set of feathered wings. Temperance only just managed to restrain herself.

Wings – a Tressym.

Gale’s tressym!

Or – well, either that or the man was simply bait for magical creatures.

“You must be Tara,” she said, unable to help her grin. “Gale’s friend?”

Tara lifted one paw – so like Gale’s own gestures she wondered who got it from who – and nodded. “Indeed I am! I suppose if you’re sharing a tent with Mr. Dekarios the two of you must be close? Hm?”

The Tressym leaned in close enough for her nose to touch the end of Temperance’s. Those luminous green eyes filled the world, and stared at her like they were uncertain if she were a mouse or a mephit.

While she didn’t mean to, she felt her smile go a little sappy. “You know he probably had an elaborate plan to introduce us.”

“That is not an answer to my question, young lady!” Tara batted at one of her horns and bared her needle sharp teeth.

Temperance turned her head, wincing exaggeratedly. Genuinely annoyed or not, Tara didn’t seem inclined to actually do her harm.

Beside her, she could see Gale still fast asleep. His hair was a disheveled mess, his beard was going in too many different directions to count, and his face was as relaxed as she’d ever seen it. This would be his best friend, wouldn’t it? She shifted carefully so as not to dislodge the tressym, and looked back up at her.

“I love him.” It was easy to say. He was so easy to love. Well – perhaps a bit exasperating at times – but no less the person her fractured heart went out to. “I hope that answers enough?”

Tara settled sphinx-like on Temperance’s sternum. She felt more than saw the way her tail switched back and forth. Her own tail had been known to do the same thing when she was thinking. Typically when she was thinking tactically.

“Yes,” Tara agreed – though not with Temperance. “Yes, I do believe you’ll do nicely. Mrs. Dekarios and I were both wondering when our young man might finally find someone to settle down with! We were beginning to think he never would.”

She blinked. “I – what?”

“I said –”

Temperance shook her head. “I heard you. No, I meant – well.” An awkward gesture skyward. “What about Mystra?”

Not for the first time she felt slightly lightheaded acknowledging the fact that Gale’s last relationship was with a goddess. It didn’t bother her – but it certainly made a woman want to stare off into space and contemplate what counted for normal these days.

“Pish,” said Tara. “As if one can truly settle down with a goddess. It’s not the same, you know. And dear Mrs. Dekarios can hardly expect grandchildren from that affair!”

Temperance choked. Then she went pink. And last she covered her face with one hand and shook with silent laughter. For some reason, all she could think of was Gale being Dame Aylin’s father. She was the only aasimar Temperance knew – and somehow she couldn’t imagine any other kind of personality to the child of a goddess.

A paw on her cheek, claws like little pinpricks. Not doing any damage, simply extended in a catlike reminder of their presence. “And what, pray tell, is so funny about that idea?”

“I don’t know if I can explain if you haven’t met Dame Aylin already.”

“The pale one?”

“I don’t think you know how much that doesn’t narrow things down.”

Tara sniffed. “With the wings.”

“Then yes, that’s her.”

“Well. She was being – if you’ll pardon my language – rather boisterous with that other young woman when I dropped by.”

“She’s been known to be that,” Temperance said dryly.

By now everyone in camp was well aware of how much Isobel and Aylin had missed each other. Shadowheart had finally lost all patience and cast silence on their tent two days back. Even Astarion – who only needed three hours of meditation a night – had been relieved.

Tara stepped lightly off of Temperance – allowing her to finally sit up – and padded over to Gale. Her face hovered over his as she eyed him with the most worried, critical expression Temperance had ever seen on a cat.

“Has he been alright? He’s been gone for some time, now...”

Temperance considered. He wasn’t set on dying for his goddess any longer. But something else was going on. When they’d finally surfaced in Moonrise Towers again, after fighting Myrkul’s avatar he’d breezed right past the moment that still filled her heart with ice water. Fixated instead on the black twists of metal perched upon the elder brain. On the crown.

And something about the fever bright quality of his eyes still bothered her.

Though of course, he had just been knocked silly and spent an entire day fighting. It wasn’t that odd to be a little… off kilter.

“Something has happened, hasn’t it?” The tressym asked. “You will inform me of it at once –”

“A lot has happened,” Temperance said. She moved to sit cross legged, giving up on any hope of sleeping. “I know you know about the orb.”

“Naturally.”

“Mystra sent Elmister…” what a bloody goddamn sentence that was. Who would have ever expected her to be able to speak of goddesses and heroes as casually as Wyll spoke of wine and dancing?

More than the strangeness though, there was the outrage. A flame lit itself in her heart that day after leaving the Grymforge. It had yet to diminish.

“He told Gale there was a way to earn her forgiveness. And her idea of forgiveness was blowing himself up on purpose.”

“She what?!” Tara yowled.

Temperance was glad the cat was no longer on her with how her claws shredded at the tarp below them. It was gratifying though, to see someone from Gale’s past be properly angry about it. Her anger didn’t quite apply to Elminster – but she couldn’t say she was very fond of the man given the role he’d taken on. Even if it wasn’t one he could necessarily say no to.

“Oh if I get my claws on her I’ll – I’ll –” Tara descended into hissing and spitting and made a combative swipe at the air, wings up, fur bristling.

“I’ll help,” Temperance said. Even though she knew her chances of biting a goddess were astronomically low. And more importantly – Gale wouldn’t want her to. She sighed and leaned into one of her hands. Much as she didn’t want to give Mystra any grace – she did want Tara to have all the information. “There's a cult. We were to track down its heart… and when we did, we discovered that heart was an enslaved elder brain.”

“I… I see,” Tara said, taken aback. “How on earth did he manage to get himself tangled up in all of this…”

“Well,” said Gale, startling them both. “When you’re abducted by a mind flayer ship and infected with one of their young, it's a tad difficult to avoid looking into the matter.”

“Mr. Dekarios!” Tara said, going up on her hind legs so she could put her forepaws on him. Like a very small concerned parent. Her wings flared out, batting Temperance slightly. “Why, you’ve had no idea how worried I’ve been! And Mind flayers! How long do you have? We must eject that foul passenger immediately.”

Gale smiled, eyes overbright and voice a little hoarse. “It's gratifying to hear you haven’t given up on me.”

Tara sat back primly. “I’ve known you since before you had that thing on your face, let alone what's in it. I’m hardly going to let you go now. You’ve been a worrisome but all together worthy companion to have!”

“Why you have such a problem with my beard I’ll never understand,” he said, laughing. There was a watery quality to it.

“I think he looks dashing,” Temperance said dryly. Without thinking, she reached out and smoothed his beard down. Something that made Gale look at her with such affection her face went hot.

The tressym sniffed. “Blinded by love, clearly.” And then she sighed. “I suppose I’ve dealt with worse flaws in a pet.”

“Oh you’ve your work out for you yet, Tara my dear. She’s just as curious as I am.”

“Hmm…” Once more, Temperance was being eyed by the tressym. “Judging by those arms of hers, she isn’t a wizard. I do believe I can handle it, Mr. Dekarios.”

Temperance surprised herself with a loud bark of laughter that she quickly covered with one hand. She’d been working on letting those out lately. Unfortunate that it had to happen at the crack of dawn.

“Now,” said Tara. “I expect you to introduce me?"

“Ah, of course.” Gale reached out and took Temperance’s hand. Absently running his thumb over her scarred knuckles and looking at her with an expression so soft she felt like she’d submerged herself in a hot bath. Oh they both had it bad, didn’t they? “Tara! This is my love, Temperance. Temperance, this is my dear friend, Tara.”

Tara inclined her head like a queen. “Yes. Yes I do believe I approve. Even if you also insist on having things on your face.”

“Alas, the tattoos are here to stay,” she said, unoffended. “It is lovely to meet you, Tara. Gale speaks of you often.”

The Tressym smiled in the way only felines could, tail switching back and forth again. “I cannot wait to let Mrs. Dekarios knows about the two of you!”

#bg3 #gale #gale of waterdeep #gale dekarios #tara bg3 #gale/tav #baldur's gate 3 #tara the tressym #bg3 gale #gale bg3 #my writing #bg3 spoilers

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pastshadows · 6 months

Text

Shadows of the Past

Chapter 5: Soaked in Desire

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

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

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

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

Setting: Post End-Game. Mostly canon compliant.

Word Count: 6.6K

Content: Explicit 18+ - intended for mature audiences.

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

Spoilers. Mentions of in-game missable content. Violence. Sexual Assault [not in currently posted chapters; possibly upcoming - I haven't decided] Past Trauma. Murder. Death. Longing. Sexual themes. Smut. Blood drinking. Angst. Innuendos. High use of sarcasm. Completely fabricated camp interactions.

Please be warned - this chapter gets a little more graphic than previous chapters. Read at your own risk.

Aldous gives you another unconcealed, odious ogle. It makes your stomach churn. He looks at you like you’re nothing, but a piece of meat and he’s famished. He glowers are you threateningly, and you draw on the Weave almost unconsciously. You shift your position, straightening your spine until you’re standing as tall as you can, and squaring your shoulders.

The grand blazing inferno of your magic implores to be used. With a sneer, you stifle the compulsion to incinerate this miserable creep where he stands. Despite your restraint, the churning repugnance for this man causes your skin to alight ablaze under his provocative lour.

I should wipe him from this realm.

“My lady,” he tries to bow but stumbles forward, snorting to himself immersed in his insobriety.

“Go home, Aldous. You’re not thinking clearly.”

His words slur together as they roll off his alcohol-soaked, lax tongue, “Who could think clearly with such an enchanting woman near.”

Good Gods. I want to be sick.

“Go home.”

You say it in a low warning with a dangerous scowl adorning the usually delicate features of your face, having had quite enough of his dopey eyes stripping you bare.

“Your scales reflect the firelight ravishingly,” he takes a couple of lumbering, unsteady steps toward you, making you reflexively back away, “I do wonder, Saer, where else is your body embellished with such silky splendour.”

Your skin crawls as Aldous’s goggling, bulging eyes skim covetously over your frame. Your jaw clenches, and you grit your teeth as your stomach turbulently heaves.

“Is it true your ancestor fucked a dragon, or perhaps a dragon fucked your ancestor? The texts are not quite clear on the subject.”

Your palms heat so blisteringly hot they begin to glow in the murky darkness, and you ball them into fists at your side. You would usually never allow someone to speak to you in such a grotesque fashion, but retaliation was out of the question. If you hurt him, it could be traced back to you and, by extension, Gale, and you couldn’t risk it.

“I do not believe my ancestors or my origins are any of your concern. Leave me be.”

“Saer,” the way he says it sounds almost like a slanderous statement now, “I have not met many with a dragon in their ancestry, even in a city as big as this. Tell me, does that fiery temper extend to the bedroom? Do you erupt in a blazing glory when you spasm with your crescendo?”

Your stomach wretches so violently that you dry-heave. The burning disgust in your blood sparks in a berserk, ruthless surge, and your body suddenly feels like it’s fabricated of flame alone. Your skin crawls with the licking sensation of fire.

You cringe and shudder as you curb your instinctual desire to show him exactly what your blazing glory is capable of.

Aldous shambles forward as he reaches for you, and you jump backwards, “Do not touch me.”

“Sorceress, don’t play coy. I know somewhere we could go, somewhere private .”

He tries to wink, but his muscles can’t discern what exactly he’s asking them to do, and his face contorts awkwardly.

“No,” you growl through clenched teeth.

He takes another step toward you. Your body shakes with ever-increasing adrenaline and fury as this predator advances on you. You could end him here and now, and you would savour his burning demise, relish in it, but you suppress the urge of your twitching palm.

If I retaliate, it’s asking for trouble, and I can’t bring that to Gale’s doorstep.

“I believe the lady said no.” Astarion’s voice resounds from the murky darkness of the alley to your side, and your nerves rejoice in the sharp-edged, protective intonation.

You want to run to him, to be wrapped up in the safety he promises, but keep yourself firmly planted on the rigid ground with your fists balled up at your sides, leering at the soused noble threatening you.

Astarion stalks out of the alleyway with his scarlet eyes trained on Aldous. His jaw is clenched tightly, muscles vacillating the otherwise calm air.

With the sudden appearance, Aldous balks slightly, “Of course,” he laughs raucously, “the sorceress is a friend. We are just fooling around.”

Astarion stares at Aldous like an apex predator observing his next meal. Aldous sucks in a sharp breath and stumbles backwards, tripping over his own feet and falling to his arse on the hard stone pavement. You stifle a laugh.

Maybe I don’t scare him, but Astarion definitely does.

Astarion slips his hand into yours, once again interlocking your fingers together.

He winces slightly and leans close, “Cool down, darling. You’re burning me."

It takes you a moment to realize just how hot you’re burning. Your skin feels like a channel of molten flames. You try to pull away from him when you discern you’re hurting him, but Astarion holds your hand firmly and unwavering, not allowing you to retreat.

With a deep breath, you focus and take control of your innate ability and force your skin to cool.

“Do you want me to,” he pauses, “take care of this sod?”

Yes.

You yearn to see Astarion gut the wretched noble like a fish. You’re no stranger to death or murder. Some viewed you as the hero of Baldur’s Gate, but the undeniable truth is that you were never a hero. You have lived long enough to know that sometimes death and killing are necessary. It was an unspoken understanding and had drawn Astarion to you in the first place.

“No, he’s not worth the trouble. I would like to go home.”

“As you wish. One moment, my dear.”

Astarion lets go of your hand and strides confidently over to Aldous, who is still staring at you intensely with hate brimming in his eyes from the ground.

You hear the whistling trill of a blade being drawn. Astarion plays with his dagger dangerously, twirling it around skilfully in his hands while he crouches menacingly beside Aldous.

Should I stop him?

Nah.

He drags the tip of his dagger down over Aldous’s body, starting from the collar of his doublet to his stomach, before applying just enough pressure so that Aldous can feel the razor-sharp dagger tip well but not enough to tear fabric or flesh.

“If I see you joking with your friend like that again, I will be forced to spill your vile innards all over this lovely stone. We wouldn’t want that, would we?”

Aldous stares at the dagger digging into his stomach with widened eyes, tears brimming in them, and his mouth drops open in a silent scream.

“Nod you if you understand me,” Astarion growls ominously.

Aldous nods frantically, tears starting to slip down his cheeks.

Astarion smirks, pleased with the fear he’s instilling in the young man, “Good lad. Now, remind me, what does no mean?”

Aldous’s mouth opens and closes repeatedly, but fear constricts his throat, and no words spill out.

Astarion snarls, teeth bared, “Say it.”

“No.”

“I don’t think I heard you clearly - say it again.”

“It means no.”

Astarion stands, towering over Aldous, “You owe my friend your life.”

Astarion turns swiftly, his hand outstretched, and you take it, disappearing with him into the dark streets. When you glance back at Aldous, he sits on the ground, chest heaving, while he glowers at you with brimming hatred in his protruding eyes.

I doubt that’s the last of him.

Walking hand-in-hand down the darkened streets towards the manor with Astarion feels like a dream. The liquor still swimming around hot in your belly numbs your fears.

“Are you alright?”

You nod, “I’m fine. He’s hardly a threat, just another drunk noble who has a dismal concept of the meaning of no.”

“Who is he?”

“The son of the man who owns the bookstore Gale frequents, Aldous Blackwell.”

“I see… and he’s also your… friend?”

It’s official - I hate that word.

You recoil noticeably, “Absolutely not. He assisted me in the bookstore a couple of times, nothing more.”

“Have you told him that?”

You roll your eyes at him, “Gods.”

“A jest, my dear. Your distaste for him was obvious. I’ve never felt your skin burn quite so stiflingly, and I’ve felt just how hot you can get,” he winks, “Have you been holding out on me?”

You recall Astarion wincing when he touched you, “I’m sorry. Did I hurt you?”

“No, darling. I’m fine, but you likely would have scorched the skin off of that man.”

“One can only hope.”

He laughs, “You will tell me if that lout troubles you again, won’t you? I would enjoy killing him.”

“So would I.”

Astarion stops quickly and tugs your arm so that you fall into him. The back of his fingers caress your cheek delicately. His scarlet eyes ripple with concern as they search your face.

“Are you sure you’re alright?”

A soft smile tugs at your lips, “I’m okay, Astarion. Really.”

He nods and places a chaste, short kiss on your lips, “Okay. Let’s go home.”

When you arrive at the manor, Astarion walks you to your room.

“What about your prize? You won tonight, and we never discussed it. What did you win?”

“My prize, darling, was spending the night in your delightful company. Goodnight.”

“Goodnight, Astarion.”

You bathe, change and climb into your bed but lay awake. A part of you sulks that Astarion hadn’t chosen you as his prize.

Well, not in the sense I want anyway.

Probably for the best.

The anesthetizing effects of the liquor are starting to wane, and your resolve is tottering. All your heartache and fears cascade in a downpour once again.

Friends.

Astarion’s words hang in your mind, “my wife.”

Friends.

The word echoing in your thoughts makes you wince. Your face twists into a cringe as if the very idea of being his friend leaves a bad taste in your mouth.

I don’t want to be simply his friend.

Fear bubbles and curdles up in you like a boiling cauldron at the realization. Fear that chains you, binding you to this broken-hearted, jaded person you’ve become.

This has to stop. This scared, unhappy person is not who I am.

You have let your fear consume you whole. You let it drag you down into this bog you have been calling existence. It has stolen all the joy and colour from your life, turning it into shades of grey. Your past self would be ashamed of the person you’ve become.

No more.

No more running.

Your meditative trance creeps in as your body finally starts to settle, and with a deep, calming breath, you let it take you away without a fight.

Gale sits at the table while you prepare lunch for the both of you. You can barely recall the last time you even bothered making food.

“You seem rather chipper this afternoon. Are you feeling alright?”

Setting the food down, you draw in a deep breath, “I owe you an apology, Gale.”

“Whatever for?”

“I’ve been an all-together terrible guest. I haven’t been myself for quite some time, and I’m sorry for how I’ve acted since I’ve been here.”

“Are you ill? Should I write Shadowheart?”

You laugh, “Perhaps. It would be nice to see her.”

“She misses you. She said you haven’t been answering her letters.”

Another friend I’ve pushed away.

“I will write her, but first, I need to make things right with you.”

“As much as I do appreciate the apology, there’s truly no need. I am no stranger to sinking into the darkness of one’s own desolation,” he smiles, “I’m just glad you’re crawling your way back out again.”

“Thank you, Gale.”

Gale grins widely, “Anytime, my friend. Anytime. So, what brought this on? Do I have our fanged friend to thank for this?”

You laugh, “Not entirely. You actually have yourself to thank. I have been shackled to my fear for too long. You pointed that out.”

“I am rather wise from time to time, aren’t I?”

“From time to time.”

“And have you decided what you’re going to do about…” Gale trails off, looking unsure.

“Astarion?”

He nods.

Yes. No. Maybe?

“Not exactly. I still need to speak with him. Only time will tell if there can be any future for us.”

“If anyone can make it work with that immortal bastard, it’s you.”

You and Gale laugh, but a harsh, loud knock at the door interrupts your mirth.

Gale eyes the door, “Are you expecting someone?”

“No. You aren’t?”

He shakes his head, “No.”

Another booming knock echos through the entryway.

“I best go see who that is. Thank you for the lunch. You actually prepare food quite well. Who would have known?”

You smirk and roll your eyes, “I’m going to pretend I don’t hear surprise tinging your voice.”

Gale disappears down the hall in a hurry to answer the ceaseless, booming knocking shaking the door. Raised voices drift from the bright foyer, catching your attention. Walking down the corridor, Mr. Blackwell’s angry face comes into view, and your heart pounds in your chest.

That little worm.

Gale runs his fingers through his hair, “I think there must be a misunderstanding.”

“My son said someone in the company of your sorceress assaulted him and threatened his life!”

“Mr. Blackwell, I’m sure there’s another explanation.”

Movement in your peripheral vision catches your attention, and Astarion is standing on the stairs, well away from the sunlight streaming from the open door.

If Mr. Blackwell goes to the authorities, they will take him to prison…

“It was me!” You blurt out.

Astarion shakes his head, narrowing his eyes, warning you not to take the blame. You scramble out the door into the sunlight before he can pull you away.

“It was me. I assaulted Aldous.”

Gale bulks at you wide-eyed, confusion pulling his brow down in the furrow.

Mr. Blackwell narrows his eyes at you, “No. Aldous specifically said it was a man, a tall Elf with red eyes.”

You seethe, “Aldous was quite drunk. He could barely stand. His memory can’t be trusted.”

“My boy does not lie!”

“But he does drink, no? Heavily, might I add, and then speak salaciously to people? He spoke his filth to the wrong woman last night, and I taught him a lesson you have failed to teach him.”

“You dare accuse my son of this heinous behaviour?!” Mr. Blackwell spits out harshly, “I’m sorry, Gale. I will be reporting this to the authorities. We are friends, but I cannot let this slight on my family go.”

“Surely, we can work this out without involving the authorities. I’m sure it was a simple misunderstanding.”

Gale nudges you, trying to get you to play along.

You swallow the hatred rising in your throat and force a smile, mustering every ounce of charisma available to you, “Yes, of course. Perhaps I overreacted. I do have a fiery temper, after all.”

I need to smooth this over.

Gritting your teeth, you coat your voice in your most persuasive tone, putting your silver tongue to use once again, “I will come to apologize to Aldous. If you will allow it, of course.”

At the reassuring cadence of your voice, Mr. Blackwell’s scowl eases up, and he thinks, “Yes, an apology might just suffice. I will speak to my son. If he agrees, perhaps we can deal with this incident civilly between friends.”

Friends. Ugh. That word is everywhere.

Mr. Blackwell departs with a huff, his nose held up in a snobby, holier-than-though expression that makes you want to throw a fireball at him.

Gale closes the door, and Astarion races down the stairs as soon as the sun is blocked.

“What in the Hells do you think you’re doing?!”

His brows are pulled down in a frightful scowl, his teeth bared.

“I’m dealing with it.”

“I will not let you apologize to that wretch.”

Gale interrupts, “Would one of you care to explain to me what has happened?”

Astarion looks at him, “I threatened the boy last night.”

“Yes, I surmised that much, but why?”

You run your hand over your face, “Aldous was drunk and getting rather… belligerent. You know I’ve rebuffed him enough times. I think he took offence.”

“For the love of…” Gale’s hand pinches the bridge of his nose, “You did quite well persuading Mr. Blackwell. Not that I am surprised, of course. I have seen you talk yourself out of far worse situations.”

“And I will talk my way out of this one.”

“No!” Astarion shouts, “You should not have to atone for my conduct.”

“Do you trust me, Astarion?”

He blinks, “Of course.”

“Then trust me to take care of this as I would trust you to pick a lock, pick a pocket or disarm a trap. Charming people is my talent.”

“Ugh,” he sighs, “I do not like this.”

Gale pipes up, “If what you say is true, nor do I.”

They would gang up on me, but at least they agreed on something. Small miracles, right?

“Both of you forget who you’re speaking to sometimes, I swear. I’ve made my choice, and your objections are noted.”

Gale and Astarion’s mouths open to argue with you further, but you put up your hand and stop them, “I will hear no more on the subject.”

They both glower at you. Gale and Astarion both huff exasperatedly and shake their heads.

Did I just shut Gale and Astarion up simultaneously?

With you putting a halt to any further discussion, Gale excuses himself to visit with his mother on the upper floors of the tower. Astarion snickers, and you frown a warning at him. He huffs and crosses his arms over his chest, rolling his eyes at you.

If he had it his way, he would be mocking Gale right this minute.

You can see Astarion listening to Gale’s footsteps as they scuff across the top floors of the manor, his eyes following the sound before darting back to you with a frown.

“You’re a bloody fool, you know that?”

“I said no more discussion. My mind is made up, and it’s not going to change.”

Astarion smirks, “We could simply kill him and his father now, I suppose."

You give him a shove, and he smiles at you slyly. Your moral compass is not exactly pointing straight. You’re not averse to killing, and you never have been. You kill mercilessly and without guilt when the situation calls for it, but you do attempt not to spill blood unless necessary.

Well… most of the time.

“No, I don’t believe this situation calls for killing. At least, not yet.”

He pouts, “Pity.”

Returning to the kitchen, you try to enjoy the rest of your lunch that was so rudely interrupted. Astarion sits at the table with a brooding glower on his face.

“I’m sorry I got you into this mess.”

“You did no such thing,” you smile playfully, “I rather enjoyed seeing him terrified, crying and whimpering like the child he is.”

“I’m glad I was able to provide you some fine entertainment during our little outing.”

He’s going to try and talk me out of it.

Astarion takes your hand across the table, “Darling, don’t do this, please.”

There it is.

“I’ve made my mind up. This is the best way to handle it, and I think you know that. If Mr. Blackwell goes to the authorities, they will take you to prison.”

“My dear, I’ve never met a cell I can’t escape.”

“It’s not worth the risk, Astarion. I need you to trust me on this.”

“I trust you implicitly,” he scowls, “It’s the boy I don’t trust.”

“Astarion.”

“Ugh, yes, “my objections are noted,” he mocks you, “Stubborn little thing.”

You flash him your most angelic smile. He groans, leaning back in his chair, defeated.

“I’m going back to bed. The knocking woke me, and I need my beauty sleep.”

“Sleep like the dead, darling!” You imitate him.

He smirks, “Hilarious."

Returning to your room, you light the fire and a candle by your bedside. Pulling out a stack of letters, you slip onto your bed and stare at them. Your fingers caress the rough parchment. Shadowheart has been writing you, but you’d left them piling up for months unopened and unread. It wasn’t something you did intentionally. Every time a letter came in, you intended to read it, but somehow, it ended up on the stack with all the others you had planned to read.

Some friend I am.

It takes hours to read through every letter, and by the time you’re ready to write her back, your hand hesitates over the blank paper. You aren’t entirely sure what you would like to say.

You and Shadowheart had been close. She had been one of your best friends, but you had pushed her away just like you had pushed everyone else away in your self-imposed stockade of misery.

A knock on your doorframe escorts you out of your thoughts in a hurry. Astarion stands at the precise of your open door.

“When you have a moment, I would like to speak with you.”

You’re face flushes, and you feel like your heart skips several beats before settling into a vicious rhythm. Your chest constricts against your raging heart, and your throat feels tight. Every nerve in your body hums, and you shake all over.

He’s leaving.

“I have a moment now. Where do you want to talk?”

“My room. Come.”

Following Astarion down the hall to his room feels very much like walking to your death. The hallway feels far too small, and the ceiling too low. Everything feels like it’s closing in on you. Your thoughts spiral out of your control as the anxiety coils in your stomach.

We need to talk?

He’s going to run, isn’t he?

What did I do now?

What did I say?

Tears are already threatening to spill out of your eyes, but you try to blink them away. You’re lower lip quivers uncontrollably.

Astarion closes the door behind you, and you stand with your arms wrapped around you, trying to calm your urge to run.

Astarion’s scarlet eyes meet yours, “What’s wrong?”

“Are you running again?”

Astarion eyebrows rise in shock, and he crosses the room in long strides, wrapping you up in his arms, and you bury your face into him, “Hells, you’re trembling all over.”

“Are you leaving me again, Astarion?”

You can’t keep your tears back, and they start gliding down your reddened cheeks.

“Darling, look at me.”

Fear paralyzes your mind and body. His words seem far away, and you don’t comprehend them.

“Look at me, my love,” his cool hand cradles your face, and he gently directs your eyes to his, “I’m never going to leave you again. I promise.”

Promise?

Astarion doesn’t make promises unless he knows he can keep them.

Astarion fingers brush away your tears, “I’m sorry I frightened you.”

“If it’s not that, what did you want to speak about? If this is about Aldous-”

“No, my dear. I know you well. Trying to change your mind would be nigh on impossible. No, I wanted to talk about the other night.”

You’re eyebrow cocks, “What night?”

“Your nightmare.”

Run, your mind chants.

“I… I don’t want to talk about my nightmares yet.”

“I understand, and I will wait until you do, but that’s not the part I wanted to speak about.”

“Okay, what is?”

Astarion takes a deep breath, odd for him, “You touched me, and I jumped away from you.”

Oh….

“It’s fine, Astarion,” you smile, “You don’t have to explain this to me.”

“I know. I want to. I haven’t been touched in,” he pauses, “a while. The sensation caught me off guard.”

“I’m sorry. I shouldn’t have do-”

Astarion’s fingers come to your lips, “Stop,” he smiles, “Darling, I wanted you to, really wanted you to, but when you did, it brought up those old feelings.”

Fuck.

“I won’t do it again.”

“Fool woman,” he clicks his tongue in disapproval, “I want you, all of you. Gods, you have no idea how difficult it’s been to keep my hands off of you. Well, for the most part,” he winks.

“But?”

Astarion takes a seat on the bed, and you climb up and sit next to him. He looks ruminative, and you wonder what is going on in his mind.

“I think I would like to try some things. If you’re willing, of course.”

Try some things?

“What would you like to try?”

“I’d like you to touch my back, my scars specifically.”

He’s figuring out what triggers him and trying to work on it.

You balk a little at the request. His scars have always been somewhere you generally avoided touching.

“That is difficult for you.”

He sighs, “Which is precisely why I need to do it, and I need your help.”

“Always.”

“Thank you. We… we could start now if you’re not busy, of course.”

“Shirt on or off?”

He smiles, “Trying to get my shirt off already?”

“I'll admit, I do enjoy the view, but this isn’t about me. It’s whatever you’re comfortable with.”

Astarion removes his shirt, “I wouldn’t want to deny you the view, as you say.”

“Astarion…”

“Relax, my dear. This is the way it must be.”

“You will tell me when to stop, right? Before it gets too much for you?”

Astarion kisses the pads of your fingers softly, “I will tell you.”

“Tell me when you’re ready.”

“I’m as ready as I will ever be, darling.”

Your fingers hesitate, hovering above the scars, and he giggles, “I can feel the warmth from your skin, but not your actual skin, my dear. Don’t be afraid. This is what I want, what I need.”

Taking a deep breath, you allow your fingers to gently caress the raised scars as lightly as you possibly can. You’ve seen these countless times, of course, but you’ve never spent time touching them, not like this.

Astarion’s jaw clenches, and he tremors slightly. You lift your hand promptly away from him. You hate seeing him in discomfort and feel even worse that you are putting him through it, even at his request.

“Keep going.”

“Are you sure?”

“Yes, if you can get past all the other emotions, it feels kind of nice.”

You lower your hand to his back and slowly trace the infernal script with your fingers. The scars are smooth like the rest of his silky skin, but there are jagged edges to some, and you wonder if that’s where Cazador made his revisions. You nearly shudder at the thought.

You lose yourself in those lines, in the softness of his skin and the intimacy and trust of this moment. There’s no way to know how much time passes.

“Stop.”

You drop your hand away from him instantly. Astarion turns, takes your hand in his, and kisses the back.

“Thank you.”

“Are you okay?”

Please be okay. Please don’t run.

He smiles genuinely, “I will be.”

“Do you need some time alone? I can leave…”

He chuckles, “Actually, there is one more thing I would like your help with.”

“What?”

“Have a bath with me.”

You sputter, “You want to have a bath?” Your eyes shift from side to side, “Together?”

“I would love nothing more if you’re willing.”

“But what about….” Your face flushes hot and red.

A devious half-smile quirks up his lips, “Finish the sentence, darling.”

“The sensations… you pulled away.”

Astarion giggles at your bumbling with a look of amusement at your sheepishness.

“You were not this shy before, but then again, I suppose we weren’t merely friends then.”

“I am not shy!”

“Oh? Then say what you mean, love.”

Why am I being shy? I was never shy with him.

Taking a deep breath, you bolster yourself and force the words out of your mouth, “When I touched your cock, you leapt away as if I burnt you. A bath… you can’t tell me that won’t happen.”

“Such vulgar language,” he tuts with a darkly mischievous smirk, “I do love it when you say cock, particularly when talking about mine.”

Heat rises to your face, and you flush bright red as he teases you.

Gods, what’s wrong with me?

“Would you like to bathe with me or not? We don’t have to if you’re not comfortable with it.”

Fuck this.

“It better be hot!”

He smiles smugly, “I remember the way you like it, my love.”

Does he?

Astarion fills the large tub. Steam floats off the water, fogging a wall-hanging mirror by the washbasin. You stare at the bath in trepidation. Is this a good idea? Is he pushing himself too far? Should you even be doing this with your friend ? You hear the faint click of the lock on his bedroom door.

I could never simply be his friend.

I need to speak to him. Soon.

Astarion’s hand comes to your lower back, “May I undress you?”

You nod, and his hands slip under your shirt, and he strips it slowly off of you. Your chest heaves with a mixture of anxiety, excitement and arousal. The cold air makes your nipples harden almost instantly into peaks. Feeling suddenly shy under his crimson gaze, you cover yourself.

Hells. He’s right. I am being shy.

Astarion moves your arms gently away, “You’re a vision. I never want you to feel you have to hide from me.”

His fingers trail over several new scars that mark your body, acquired while you were out looking for him, “So many of these are new."

You shift your eyes away from him.

“I won’t pry, but I do hope you will tell me what happened one day.”

“I need to trust you again first.”

“I understand.”

He trails his fingers around the waistband of your pants, “May I?”

You take a deep breath and nod. He hooks his fingers in the band and pulls them down your legs. Crouching, he helps you step out of them. You’re bared to him now, and his hooded red eyes take you in sensually.

Astarion’s cool hand glides up the counters of your body while he stands. His hands reach for the ties of his trousers, and he undoes them in a flash and slips out of them.

He’s definitely not shy.

It’s the first time you’ve seen him naked since he left, and your eyes devour that beautiful sight.

My memories didn’t do him justice.

“Enjoying yourself, darling?”

“Thoroughly.”

He laughs, “Good. Me too.”

Astarion steps into the tub and holds his hand out to you. Taking it, you step into the hot water with him.

He really does remember how hot I like my baths to be.

Astarion sits down, sinking into the hot water and sighs happily, closing his eyes. You sit towards the opposite side of the tub, being extra careful not to let your body touch his too much and keeping your knees hugged to your chest.

Thank Gods Gale has oversized tubs.

Astarion’s eyes open, and his brows furrow, “Why so far away?”

“I don’t want to make you uncomfortable.”

“Still excessively gentle with me, I see,” he tuts, “Come here, my love. I wish to sit together like we used to.”

Before he left me...

Slowly, you move toward him, turning around and putting your back against his chest. You keep your body rigid, careful not to touch his crotch, but it’s uncomfortable, contorting your body in an awkward position.

Nothing like before he left. I would sink into him.

Astarion trails soft kisses up your neck, his lips ghosting your ear, “I want this.”

Your skin flushes, and heat pools in between your thighs, accompanied by the all-too-familiar pulsing throb.

Ugh, not this again. I need to control myself.

Bit by bit, you allow your body to relax in increments, doing your best to watch for any signs he’s been pushed over a boundary, but he just giggles at you.

“Stop giggling at me, Astarion!”

“Sorry, darling. You’re just too cute.”

You huff and scowl at him before letting your body completely relax.

“Good girl,” he purrs.

His arms come around you, and he hugs you even closer, “May I wash you?”

“You have me naked and pressed up against you in a tub. Why do you keep asking permission?”

Astarion kisses your cheek, “We are friends, no? I do not know the proper etiquette for bathing with friends .”

Friends. Ugh.

You want to rip that word out of his vocabulary so he can never utter it again.

Well, two can play this game.

“You may wash me, friend.”

He chuckles and brings a washcloth up your arm, over your shoulder and down, grazing your nipple. You suck in a sharp breath, arching your back at the delicate sensation. Astarion repeats the same trail on the other side, and you whimper when the washcloth grazes your other nipple.

Your swollen clit aches with each movement of his hands over your body, and you squeeze your thighs together to relieve some of the intense pulsing.

Astarion kisses down your neck and across your collarbone. The cool embrace of his lips compared to the searing heat of your skin and the water make a chill run down your spine, and it takes everything you have not to writhe against him on the spot.

You’re desperate to feel closer to him, to be consumed by him. Your heart beats rapidly, your chest heaves and your voice comes out in a breathy, pleading whimper.

“Astarion?”

“Yes?”

“Bite me.”

You feel his sharp fangs sink into your neck, and your core clenches and spasms. Your hands find his thighs and squeeze. He holds you steady, hard against him, and you can feel his growing erection at your back. He moans into your neck, and you swear that sound alone could be your undoing.

He eases his grip on you. Immediately, his finger comes to your chin to bring your gaze to his. He finds your lips with a growl that reverberates in his chest.

He knows I like to taste myself on him.

He parts his lips, and you skillfully explore his mouth, tasting yourself and him mixed, and you moan against him.

Astarion pushes his erection further into you with a breathy hiss. You want to feel it, taste it, be filled by it, but you keep your hands firmly planted on his thighs. You don’t want to take it too far, especially since he said he hasn’t been touched in a while. He needs to feel in control of when and how he is touched.

Astarion’s hand travels languidly down your stomach and your skin prickles at the sensation.

Keep going.

Wait.

Should I stop him?

No.

He splits your folds with his finger, and you buck your hips and groan into his chest. His tongue laps up some of the remaining blood from the fresh bite as his fingers find your swollen clit. You can’t help yourself, and you push harder up against him. His pulsing erection pressed firmly against you.

“Gods below,” he groans in your ear.

Your whole body quivers as he strokes, circles and teases the pulsing bundle of nerves.

“Do friends do this?” He growls.

You can hardly think with him expertly caressing your throbbing flesh, barely put together words between your whimpers, moans and frantic pants.

His fingers slow, and your body cries at the end of his delicious touch, “Astarion. Gods. Please.”

“Then answer me,” he taunts commandingly, “Do friends do this?”

Squeezing your eyes shut, you manage to pant out a reply, “N-no.”

“That’s right, darling,” he coos, “They don’t.”

Astarion’s fingers start massaging and stroking the aching bundle of nerves, setting a merciless rhythm. Your legs quake and twitch, tilting your pelvis further into his touch. You feel the familiar tightening start to curl up in your stomach. Your body quivers with his precise movements, and your chest heaves.

So close.

“A-Astarion…”

“Yes, my love,” he growls, “Cum for me.”

You start to spasm and tremor, shockwaves gripping your body as if he gave the command, and your body obeyed. You convulse so strongly and violently that you scream out in sheer ecstasy, and Astarion uses a hand to muffle your incoherent, wanton cries. Water sputters up and splashes on the floor from your frantic movement.

“Darling, if you keep screaming like that, you’re going to make the wizard jealous.”

“Astarion,” you pant.

“Yes?”

“For the love of the Gods, don’t talk about “the wizard” right now.”

He nuzzles your neck and kisses your temple, “Gladly.”

With one last shudder, you sag back into him, and your back presses up against his throbbing cock.

“What about you?”

He smiles devilishly, “I have an idea for that too.”

“You’re full of great ideas today. Care to share?”

“I want your hand to do it, but I want to control it.”

You nod your understanding. He’s not ready to take it further just yet, but you had to start somewhere, and this was as good a place to start as any.

“Dry off and go to the bed.”

You and Astarion dry off and move to the bed. You stare at his cock, precum glistens at the tip, and you fight the urge to take him in your mouth, missing his taste.

“As much as I am happy to let you sit there and gawk for as long as you would like, I would much rather feel your hand around my cock, darling.”

You don’t need to be asked twice. You wrap your hand around him. He pulsates under your grip. His hips jerk at the contact, and he hisses in a sharp inhale and groans. His hand wraps over yours, making you grip him tighter.

“Hells, I’ve missed your hands on me.”

You let him set the pace. It starts slow and controlled. His eyes flutter closed, and his face twists in pleasure handsomely. Thick strands of precum dribble out the swollen tip.

His eyes open and meet yours, gliding over your naked body, relishing in it, and he picks up the pace. His fangs peek out as his lips part in a moan. He squeezes your hand around his cock tighter. He rolls his hips and increases the tempo. You’ve seen him reach his peak countless times, and you know he’s close.

Seeing him like this, you can already feel your arousal rising again. Your skin flushes, your core clenches, and you want to squirm on the bed, but with considerable effort, you manage to keep yourself still.

With a groan, he throws his head back, and his mouth drops open. He whimpers your name through muddled, breathless hisses and pants. He stills, and with one final stroke, thick spurts of cum shoot onto his abdomen and dribble down your hands, gathering on his lower abdomen.

Beads of sweat roll down his temples and his body glistens.

Astarion releases his grip on your hand, and you release him in turn. He pulls you to him and kisses you. This kiss isn’t about lust, arousal or pleasure. This is pure love and intimacy physically manifested, and it reminds you of before he left.

I love you. You want to tell him; you want to scream it but swallow the urge.

Astarion grabs the towel he brought, “Hand, darling.”

You hold out your hand soaked with his release, and he wipes it for you with a smirk before cleaning himself up.

“Quite the eventful bath, friend.”

“Are you okay?”

He smiles, “Yes.”

“Good, friend.”

Astarion chuckles, but it's cut short as his head snaps toward the door, “Get dressed. Gale is summoning us.”

You dress in a hurry and go downstairs with Astarion. Gale is pacing up and down the corridor to the entryway. Brows furrowed, muttering to himself.

“Gale, what’s wrong?”

“Aldous has agreed to see you tomorrow. It says you must go alone.”

Lovely.

Thank you to all those who read/like/comment/follow/reblog/etc. I hope you're enjoying reading this! Let me know what you think :)

Chapters Master List - Shadows of the Past

If you're interested, I also write fanfic for Ascended Astarion x Spawn Tav - Fangs and Fractured Hearts

AO3: Crossposted

Small Notes: - I'm not a smut writer, so hopefully, the smutty parts get better as I get more practice. I'm working on it. :)

#astarion ancunin #astarion x mc #astarion smut #astarion x reader #astarion x tav #astarion #bg3 astarion #astarion x you #astarion romance #baldurs gate astarion #shadows of the past #astarion baldurs gate #astarion bg3 #spawn astarion

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