#BUT HE SAW HER AT THE CAMPFIRE IN THE BOOKS RIGHT?? | Explore Tumblr Posts and Blogs

mydearlybeloathed · 11 months

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𝐇𝐈𝐍𝐃𝐒𝐈𝐆𝐇𝐓

𝐬𝐮𝐦𝐦𝐚𝐫𝐲: following their fellow hero’s death, the remaining seven have to face their decade long feud at the grave.

𝐩𝐚𝐢𝐫𝐢𝐧𝐠: heroes of olympus x fem!reader

𝐰𝐨𝐫𝐝 𝐜𝐨𝐮𝐧𝐭: 2k

The last thing any of them wanted was to go to the funeral. It wasn’t that they didn’t care; to say that would be the biggest lie any of them would say. No, they didn’t want to show up because the grief they felt was too great. Y/N shouldn’t have died, not when each of them had unsaid words to say to her.

Yet each demigod sucked up their sadness, dressed as nice as they could, and made their way back to Camp Halfblood, where Y/N was to be honored that evening.

It’d been seven years since the Second Giant War, and five years since any of them had met face to face (the exception was Percy and Annabeth, who'd gotten married just before the seven’s falling out). The great heroes of Olympus were nothing but a campfire tale at this point.

Jason was the first to arrive. Silently he stood at her grave, his throat burning with the floodgate of tears he held back. Years ago, when he’d first arrived at Camp Halfblood with no memory of his old life, he found Y/N sitting here with a book.

He’d learned very quickly that it wasn’t smart to disturb her when she was reading…

Under the shade of the big oak tree sat a girl, all alone save for an open book. While the other campers hung out with their siblings and friends, playing varying games and sports, she seemed perfectly content under her tree.

He wasn’t trying to be a creep, but Jason couldn’t help but watch her from afar. He’d seen her in action during last week's capture the flag game. Y/N had scared the shit out of him when she’d come running at him with a sword; Looking back on it, Jason swore he saw death in her eyes.

So when Jason found the angry warrior girl who’d almost skinned him alive trying to get his team's flag looking so peaceful with her nose in a book, he became curious of her.

Annabeth was quick to warn him against going up to her. After he insisted on getting to know her, she grinned and said, “Fine, it’s your death wish.”

It turned out that she was right.

“Umm, hi. You’re Y/N, right?” Jason asked when he was standing in front of her. She wasn’t quick to look up from her book, an eyebrow raised as she sized him up.

“Yeah,” she said, unenthused. “And you are?”

“Jason Grace.”

“Ah. Son of Zeus. I’ve heard about you,” she said, her eyes drifting back to her book for a moment. “Is there something you need?”

The boy scratched at his neck, trying to look casual and not terribly awkward. “Not really. I just remembered you from the game last Friday. You almost maimed me.”

A small grin pulled at the girl’s face, but still, she seemed eager for him to leave her alone. “That was you? Heh, sorry. I’m a tad bit competitive.”

He was about to compliment her sword skills when the grin fell from her face and she looked back to her book. “Listen, you seem nice, but I’m kinda busy in case you can’t tell. Please leave me alone. Thanks.”

And that was the end of that conversation. The next time he held a conversation with her was after his quest to free Juno. She was certainly more kind when she wasn’t in the middle of reading, that was for sure.

The more he got to know her, the more he appreciated her love of books. On more than one occasion some random fact from a seemingly irrelevant fantasy novel saved their asses.

Sighing deeply, Jason rested a blue flower that he’d picked earlier on top of her headstone. He sat down in front of it, finally allowing himself to cry over the loss of his dear friend.

Next was Percy and Annabeth.

Hand in hand, they approached the site. It was on the edge of camp, on a hillside that looked over the cabins. It was surrounded by trees, and Y/N’s favorite flowers were planted all around.

Annabeth stopped at the treeline, her eyes landing on the headstone, and the blond boy kneeling next to it with his head in his hands. She’d told herself she wasn’t going to cry, that she’d cried enough, that crying wouldn’t change the fact that she was gone.

But then, the burning in her throat grew all so worse. Her Hand flew to her mouth, and she choked on a sob. Percy turned, her stationary figure tugging him back. Jason’s head snapped up, his eyes widening upon seeing the two standing there.

He wiped at his face, but his bloodshot eyes gave away that he’d been crying too. The silence was thick, mixing with the surrounding humidity, making the air difficult to breathe.

It’d been some time since they’d crossed paths. “Hey.”

Percy nodded. “Hey.”

Another sob choked Annabeth as she ducked her chin. “Oh, shut up! We’re awful people.”

Jason and Percy turned to her, shocked by her outburst as tears trailed down her cheeks. “What?”

“Every last one of us,” she cried. “She was the only one who tried to keep everyone friends, who could stand to be the voice of reason! And we all... we all abandoned her just because of a stupid argument!”

Before anyone could respond, the wind picked up, blowing their hair all around. Jason looked up, and his throat went dry at the sight of a giant bronze dragon lowering form the sky.

Leo and Piper appeared on its back, both solemn and silent as the dragon landed and they slid to the ground. Piper locked eyes with him, and she nodded without a word.

Annabeth just turned around, wiping furiously at her face. Meanwhile, Leo stared gaping at the grave, as though he hadn’t really expected it to be there. “She’s...”

“Yeah,” Jason snapped. “Yeah. She’s gone.”

Piper shot him a nasty glare as Leo recoiled into himself. “Back off.”

“Listen, I’m just--”

“You’re just not. Okay? Shut the hell up.”

The daughter of Athena whirled around and pointed form Piper to Jason, silencing them in an instant. “We are not bringing this here, to her grave.”

No one dared to bite back. Percy rubbed circles into her shoulders, hoping it helped.

Next thing any of them knew, another figure appeared, closely followed by another. Frank and Hazel, walking at least seven feet apart from each other in awkward silence.

Hazel’s eyes made it to the headstone, and she lost all her breath. Her knees started to give out, and Leo was the only one who thought to run to steady her against him. She buried her head in his shoulder, though not a tear fell. Something about the redness in her eyes said she’d run out of tears.

Annabeth felt a burn of anger rise up wihtin her, and with her hands fisted at her sides, she began again in a broken voice, “We can barely look at each other! We... We left her alone, after all she did for us. She died alone.”

Frank let out a shaky breath, his eyes on the ground. “Annabeth... what were we--”

“What were we supposed to do?” she spat back. Her hands were shaking. “Anything. She was a fucking daughter of Eris. The goddess of strife. She was the only one who tried to get everyone to fucking get along!”

Ten years ago, the eight Heroes of Olympus had gathered at Percy and Annabeth’s wedding. Frank and Hazel were newly separated, Piper and Jason too, and no one was really over how Leo didn’t hurry to come back after Calypso revived him.

It was,

“I bet you loved her attention! Was her head enough to make you forget us?”

“I had died!”

And,

“We were tricked into liking each other by Hera!”

“I loved you, Piper!”

Then,

“Why couldn’t we make it work? Why?”

“You know why!”

And finally,

“Stop fighting at our damn wedding!”

And in the middle of it all, there was Y/N. She stood between everyone, hands raised warily, as she tried to make everyone apologize. It didn’t work. She always blamed herself too; Eris kids only ever make things worse.

Nobody had had a kind word for another of the eight since then. After a while, Y/N stopped reaching out. She stopped trying to get everyone to meet up. She stopped attempting an intervention. She gave up.

And now she’s dead. Killed by a minotaur.

Percy felt it was payback.

In the thick silence, only broken by Annabeth’s heavy breathing and the occasional sniffle, nobody dared to say a word.

Until... “I...” Piper sighed. “I spoke to her. A week ago. She... she tried to get me to call Jason. I refused.”

She closed her eyes, embarassed and ashamed, but then Jason looked up, eyes wide. “She called me too. Asked me to talk to you.”

Leo began to tap his chest with one hand and wipe his face with the other. “Me too. She called me to call Jason and Frank.”

“She wanted me to call Hazel.”

“And me to call Frank.”

Every one of them had refused.

Annabeth just stared at Y/N’s grave, Percy mirroring her, their hands finding each others. “She wanted us to get everyone together, at camp... today. Oh, gods.”

Piper’s eyes widened like saucers. “You don’t think she...” She couldn’t finish.

“I don’t know,” said Percy, eyes unfocused. “I don’t know.”

Hazel shook her head frantically. “She wouldn’t. She was killed by a minotaur!”

Another silence took a hold of them and wouldn’t let go. One by one, each of them haunted by what ifs and worries, one by one they came to sit around the headstone.

Not another tear was shed. Hazel took the blue flowers all around and made anxious little flower crowns, passing them around the circle like some sort of machine, until Leo grabbed her hands and made her stop when everyone had a flower crown, a necklace, and a bracelet to don.

From across their little circle, Jason looked at Piper, finding her eyes already on him. He shivered, and she pursed her lips. He broke the silence first. “It was Hera... I shouldn’t have felt I had a right to tell you how to feel.”

Piper shook her head. “I shouldn’t have assumed we meant nothing to you.”

“Guys,” Leo blurted, plucking petals off his crown. “I... I should have rushed back to ya’ll the moment I could... but I was scared. I didn’t know if ya’ll would want me back.”

Hazel gaped at him. “Why wouldn’t we want you back, Leo?”

“I don’t know.” He rubbed at the back of his neck. “I was the eighth wheel, you know? I didn’t think I mattered to anyone.”

Percy cracked the stick in his hand. “You mattered the world to us... to Y/N.”

Frank nodded. “She was beside herself when you died. I’d never seen anyone so... so...”

“Hopeless,” Hazel finished, locking eyes with him before she quickly looked away. Something in Frank’s chest squeezed.

Leo’s eyes went somewhere behind them all, as if he’d never even played with the idea that he could mean so much to someone. None of them doubted, in that instant, that that was true, and suddenly they wondered for the first time if Leo was as all right as he appeared.

The sun continued its journey across the sky, now hiding behind the trees to offer the group some shade.

Out of the shadows, literally, came Nico and consequently, Will. Annabeth was the first to notice their new matching wedding bands, putting a light smile on her face.

For a moment, all the pair did was stand there, staring at the grave, not saying a word, before Nico tugged on Will’s hand and they were gone nearly as soon as they’d appeared. Everyone pretended not to hear how Nico broke the moment he turned his back.

Some time later, Chiron trotted up the hill, greeted each of them, and lade a laurel wreath on Y/N’s headstone.

Grover and Juniper came up soon after, but they too could only stand to look at the grave for so long before they turned back.

The seven remained, as though intending upon a vigil, in silence. Perhaps to honor her. Perhaps because no one knew what to say. One thing was clear, though, if nothing else: they were done fighting.

“I...” Percy spoke up, sniffling. “We...”

Annabeth took his hand. “Do you guys wanna come for dinner one day?”

She was afraid no one would answer, but almost immediatley Piper leaped at a reply. “Where’s your place?”

“Not far,” said Percy. “Still in Long Island.”

he squeezed Annabeth’s hand, shooting her a teasing look. She only grinned back. “And... well, uhm. We never got to tell any of you... thought it was always too soon--”

“What? What is it?” Leo demanded, on the edge of his grassy seat.

Annabeth and Percy locked eyes in a silent gleeful exchange, before Percy said, “We’re parents.”

Not a jaw was still shut.

“Dude,” Piper gasped. “What--Oh my gods.”

Hazel clapped her hands, a smile to bright that Frank buffered a moment. Leo pointed a thumb at the married couple and said, “Oh, you better bet we’re coming for dinner. Gotta meet tiny Jackson-Chase.”

Laughter bubbled up from the circle, and suddenly, the conversation wasn’t so muddled with bitter memories. Plans were made, silent apologizes given, and hope spread around.

It’d been just five hours since they’d first arrived, yet it felt as if a whole decade was occured. The decade they wasted.

So as each of them stood (Hazel offered Frank her hand, and he gladly took it, towering over her like he always had. Leo and Jason shook hands, before the latter pulled the former into a rib cracking hug. Annabeth wiped at her face, locking eyes with Piper, and threw herself into her arms.) they tried not to dwell in the simmering past.

It was the least they could do for Y/N, who believed they could forgive, even in her last days.

Which is why, hidden in the trees, shrouded by a cloud of mist, tears streaked down a young woman’s cheeks. Her lip trembling and her heart sang at the sight. Perhaps a child fo Eris didn’t have to ruin everything.

She wanted to run, to jump out of the trees before it was too late, to hug them at long last, but the grip on her shoulder made every attempt send shooting pains up her spine.

“It seems,” said Y/N’s mother. “You were right about them, my sweet.”

Y/N glared up at Eris, taking in a deep breath to calm herself. “Please. You’ve had your fun. Your hypothesis was wrong.”

The disapointment all over Eris’ face only made Y/N’s impatience grow. “I’m... surprised. I thought nothing could bring them together again.”

“You don’t give them enough credit,” said Y/N, a small smile gracing her face as she turned back to the seven.

“Or,” said Eris, brows raised. “I didn’t give you enough credit. Certainly, as my favorite daughter I thought for sure your death would only drive them further apart...”

Y/N didn’t like the calculated look on her mother’s face, like Eris was wondering what had gone wrong, and she tugged at her hold on her shoulder despite the pain it brought. “Let me go?

“Aren’t you afraid they’ll be hostile when they see you deceived them?”

The daughter shrugged. “A little bit. But after I explain that you forced me into faking my death for the sake of testing them, I’m sure all their anger will find a much better outlet.”

With a scant smile, Eris ruffled her daughter’s hair. “Good. Now run along. They shouldn't grieve any longer than they have to.”

So she did, sprinting into the clearing without much thinking, not even blinking at the unsheathed weapons that followed her swift appearance.

Breathing heavily, Y/N’s eyes scanned over her friends, still blinking away tears, as one by one their guards fell crashing down. She waved a little. “Hi.”

Hazel broke first, her weapon falling to the grass as she bolted at Y/N, nearly taking them both down with the power behind her hug. The rest didn’t take long to follow, wrapping their arms around you in a stuffy yet welcome group embrace.

“But... how?”

She could only look toward the forest, glaringly so. “Turns out I’m my mother’s disappointment.”

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aphroditeinthesea · 3 months

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this was a request from @annaizcool44 but i accidentally deleted it when i tried to post it

“ safe in my garden, an ancient flower blooms ”

jason grace x daughter of demeter ⚡️

reader expresses her feelings to the son of zeus through a shared love of books

tw none

⋆ ˚｡ ⋆୨💐୧⋆ ˚｡ ⋆

“Whatcha reading?” Y/N jumped at the sound of the voice behind her. She was sitting on the porch of the Demeter cabin when she noticed the blond approaching her.

She looked up and smiled, “Little Women,” she scooted over for him to sit next to her, “ever read it?”

He shook his head, sitting beside her. He leaned over her shoulder at the page she was on, “what’s it about?”

She felt her ears warm at the closeness, “these four sisters during the Civil War, and their dad’s fighting in the army so they're trying to adjust to their life now… I guess.”

“Can I borrow it sometime?”

Jason heard a knock at his door in the early morning. He yawned and rubbed his eyes as he stood up, walking to open it. He found on his doorstep a copy of Little Women with a sticky note on top that read “For Jason, with love Y/N” and he couldn't help but notice the fresh flowers that had sprouted around his cabin.

He smiled and looked around. He saw the girl peering from behind a nearby tree. She turned away, giggling, when he looked her way.

His heart warmed. He stepped back into his cabin and flipped through the pages, he found little notes in the margins and underlined quotes.

For the rest of the day, the book never left his hands. During breakfast, during training, his eyes were glued to the pages.

Just before the campfire, Y/N peeked into his cabin, “Jason?”

She noticed him wipe his eyes, “oh, uh, hey.”

She smiled and walked over to his bed, “Beth?”

He nodded, “yeah. Why would the author write that?”

She bit her lip, “Jase, it’s a true story.”

His eyes widened, “no.”

“Yes.”

Tears began pricked out of his eyes, “that makes it so much worse.”

She sympathetically laughed, wrapping her arms around him. He nuzzled his head into her neck. She couldn't help but smile at how the usual tough guy was now crying in her arms over a book. A book she had gifted him.

He pulled away, “your little note made it better though,” he grinned. He opened the book to the last page he had read, “Jason, when you get here, come to my cabin, I know you’ll need to.”

She laughed, “I think I know you too well.”

He nodded, “I think so.”

“You wanna read Pride and Prejudice?” she asked, “one more sister, happier ending.”

He chuckled, “might as well.”

She showed up to his cabin just before curfew, “the Bennett sisters, Jane, Lizzie, Mary, Kitty, and Lydia, search for love in 1813 England,” she announced in a pretend professional voice.

“No scarlet fever?”

She shook her head, “no scarlet fever. Jane gets a cold, but it's nothing serious.”

He hesitantly grabbed the book from her hands, “thanks, Y/N.”

“No problem, Jason, it's nice getting to share these with you.”

“Yeah, it's nice for me, too,” he trailed off, looking away, “I should get to bed.”

“Right, yeah, of course,” she smiled, “goodnight.”

“‘Night,” he replied, closing the door.

“Oh, uh, one more thing.”

He slightly opened the door again, “hm?”

She took a deep breath and placed a kiss on his cheek, “see you in the morning.”

He stuttered, trying to suppress his blush, “yeah- yeah, see you,” he awkwardly smiled, closing the door again.

The next morning she watched him sit at the Zeus table, reading the book. Her heart raced as she knew he was getting closer to the last annotation she had written. She started to regret it, what if he thought the books just made them closer friends? Of course they were friends, she cursed herself for thinking he could see her differently. He glanced up at her, he flashed a smile and a nod her way. She turned pink, looking away.

“Y/N!” the all too familiar voice called to her as she sat by the dock, watching the sunset later that day.

She turned around, “Jason, hi,” she shyly smiled.

He took the spot next to her, handing the book back to her, “I finished the book.”

She nervously looked into his eyes, “and?”

“It was great!” he beamed, “everything about it.”

She furrowed her eyebrows, “even the ending?”

“That was the best part.”

“Jason,” she laughed, “did you even read the annotations?”

He squinted his eyes in confusion, “of course I did.”

She opened the book to the back cover. She folded it open and showed it to him. There was written in pink ink, “Will you be the Darcy to my Lizzie?”

“I know it’s cheesy,” she muttered, closing the book and turning away.

“Yes,” he paused, “wait, no. Yes to the question, not to it being cheesy. Well, it is cheesy but it’s cute. You're cute.”

She giggled, “thanks, so are you.”

He held her cheek in his hand, their gazes met before their lips crashed into one another. She placed her hands around his neck as he now held her face with both of his hands. When they pulled away, their foreheads leaned against one another and they could feel the other’s breath against their lips.

The next morning, Jason walked out his cabin to find a field of multicolored roses had encompassed him. He looked around just to find the girl responsible standing in the middle of the flowers, holding a book. He breathily laughed and made his way over to her.

“Here,” she smiled, handing him the book.

He took it, “Mansfield Park?”

“Jane Austen, she wrote Pride and Prejudice, too.”

He wrapped his arms around her waist to pull her into a kiss, “sounds perfect.”

#jason grace #jason grace x reader #heroes of olympus #percy jackson #percy jackson x reader #percy jackson and the olympians #jason grace x you #jason grace x daughter of demeter #demeter #daughter of demeter #child of demeter #cabin 4

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gettinshiggywithit · 3 months

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ok so I saw your post abt wanting to write for pjo but you don't know what and you've only read the books so I figured I'd send a request or sum. now idk if you do headcannons cause I haven't followed you for long, but headcannons abt a relationship with percy? 🍓

🌊Dating Percy Jackson~ (HCs)🌊

Summary: what’s it like dating the son of poseidon and resident blue-enthusiast

Pairing: percy x gn!reader (i think I kept it pretty gender neutral!)

Genre: fluff

T/W: none

A/N: Hi nonny! I hope you like this! Thank you for the request and for getting me out of my writing slump! Pls lmk what you think of it if you feel like it and until next time ciao!

Warning! Not proof read🥹🙏apologies 🥹

I think its a given that percy is the epitome of boyfriend material

I mean the man literally gave up immortality for annabeth!

But this isnt about annabeth,this is about you!

So for the sake of this post let’s assume you both met the same way!

The moment percy saw you he was entranced!

It was a normal day of practice and he was out in the practice pavilion to try his hand at archery(this was when he was still unclaimed)

He was struggling to even hit the target when he turned his head to talk to his instructor from the apollo cabin,only to see you sparring with the camp’s best swordsman,luke castellan!

You were expertly dodging and blocking his advances and while luke seemed to be getting frustrated,you looked smug and excited almost. It was then that perch jackson developed a hugee crush on you

Over the next few days he made attempts to talk to and interact with you,he joined you at the campfire and during these little interactions was when he realised you weren’t just pretty,you had a personality as bright as the sun and your sense of humour was elite!

When he got claimed you helped him accept it and even though you were still unclaimed it really helped him. You listened to him when he needed a friend and helped him see the brighter side of things.

And over time even you seemed to fall for him, i mean what wasnt to love,he was funny,sweet,supportive; everything a girl could ask for!

So when you confessed to him during a sparring session after having just beaten him,he was both confused and overjoyed!

You helped him up and he confessed to feeling the same.and as you both got older,your bond grew stronger.sure there were little hiccups along the way but you always made it work.

Percy noticed everything about you, your little quirks, your little gestures; everything

He was the first to notice when you were feeling even a little bit down and he always had your favorite snacks on hand for when you needed cheering up!

He always took you down to the beach or near the river,exploring both in his little protective bubble was the coolest,most awesome thing you’d ever experienced and even though you felt scared at times,he’d hold you close and not let go until you were on dry land.

Making blue food together in the off season and spending time at his and his mum’s apartment was heavenly,especially your home didn’t exactly feel like a home in the first place.

Sally loved you! She always teased the two of you when you curled up on the couch to watch movies and was just happy her son found someone.

During quests he always had your back but also knew you were perfectly capable on your own,i mean you practically taught him how to sparr yourself!

Through the losses and the gains,the battles and the hardship,you stayed together and helped eachother grow.

You loved him with all your heart and he the same. He was loyal to fault and would never judge or criticize you,if he did it was merely constructive criticism,nothing to belittle you or make you feel insignificant.

He helped you through your moments of insecurity and made you feel whole,like you were worth his love and like you were perfect the way you were.

In conclusion,being in love with percy Jackson means, unlimited support and love and a companion for life🫶

#🎙jaya speaks #📚jaya’s tales #percy jackson x reader #pjo x reader #percy jackson fluff #percy jackson x gn!reader #pjo hcs #pjo fanfic #percy jackson

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rianavi · 3 months

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what do you see in her?!

luke castellan x artemis!daughter!reader

start to a series

part 1, part 2, part 3

summary; luke stands up for you

series masterlist

when he first arrived at camp he was a bit scared of you. your stern gaze and biting words, he wondered if you ever laughed.

then during archery he saw you shoot an arrow right into another, that’s when he knew he had to be your friend.

after that, it was as if you couldn’t shake him, he followed you during trainings, sat with you at lunch and campfires, he even begged mr. d to put hermes and artemis cabins together for capture the flag.

when you finally got used to the annoying git, you realized how fun he was to be around. you guys would pick fruits, swim, and make crafts together, he swears he even saw you smile a couple of times.

then when you guys were older and more mature - you more than him - he developed a sort of crush on you. he would hold your hand on walks, comfort you during hard times, and patch you up after rough trainings.

over time you guys grew incredibly close, and you might have even fallen for him too.

you enjoyed the way he made you laugh and smile, the way he would blush slightly when anyone mentioned you two as really close, but you found yourself most drawn to how good of a friend he was to everyone. never leaving out the younger kids or the kids who had trouble making friends. he was sweet to everyone, which is why you found it weird he was so close with you.

you didn’t have many friends and most people ignored you in fear, people constantly asked you why you were mad when you weren’t - cure that resting bitch face -, and most people gave weird looks when you and luke were together.

i mean, how could someone so gentle and kind be friends with someone so cruel and angry. it was if he pitied you for being so weird to other people.

you constantly doubted that he actually liked you, that he actually enjoyed spending time with you.

that was until you overheard him talking with someone.

you were up in a tree, reading your favorite book to escape everyones loud chatter and laughter.

you were meant to meet luke in about an hour to go to the lake so you took the time you had to yourself with an open mind.

all the sudden you hear your name causing you to look down. through the bushy leaves and overgrown branches, you could make out luke and some demeter boy that you briefly recognized as he was quite popular standing and talking.

“i mean, why are you even friends with her, she’s weird. everyone hates her and she doesn’t even try to change our minds.” the demeter boy spoke.

“don’t say that about her. she- she’s not- look man, just because you guys don’t try to actually get to know her and just assume who she is, doesn’t mean that you have to belittle her. it’s not her fault she looks mean, she’s not, she’s actually quite funny and caring. you’re just mad because you can’t win over one person, and she’s better than you could ever be.” luke speaks passively and shoulder checks the boy before stomping off in anger.

it was then that you knew, you had fallen completely in love with luke castellan.

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inkyquince · 9 months

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I tolerate her. I liked you.

characters. Enver Gortash. Astarion. (Baldur's Gate 3)

cw. Dark Urge reader, with a intimate history with Gortash. Astarion being bitchy. Not explicitly nsfw, just dirty talk and dirty thoughts. Clingy and Jealous Astarion. Lots of talk of blood. 3k words.

“I tolerate Orin. I liked you.”

The words hung in the air, Gortash’s smirk curling in the silence that followed. You cocked your head at him, slowly letting the statement sink in. There was something else there. His gaze was simmering, dark, as if daring you to ask what exactly he meant by that, right in front of the audience hall filled with chattering nobles, in front of your companions who had just learned that you were one of the three that had started all of this… In front of the one person who had taken your bloodied hands in their own and kissed your knuckles and washed the red from your skin.

You wondered if your Bhaalspawn kin ever tasted the fear you seemed to wallow in these days. Fear of turning, fear of dying, fear of being exposed to be the disgusting creature you thought yourself to be. As for right now? Fear that Gortash would run his tongue over his teeth again and go into detail about how much he had enjoyed your company. So, like a coward, you instead fell back on prying into his thoughts.

Carefully, with just a little Guidance, you crept into his mind, making sure not to alert the dark eyed Chosen of your actions. As per usual, the stream of consciousness came quickly, running like a stream past you, only able to catch a few strands of thought.

Orin is too uncontrollable. This one never let me down. Oh, yes, how I liked you. Liked you so. I wonder if they taste as they did before, with blood on their tongue. Nothing that a little bit of wine helps to sweeten. The first taste is always the most memorable. You didn’t have the time of day for me at first, did you? The chosen of Bhaal, his favorite spawn, but I changed that. Now, if that glaring little shit would go find a shit house to glare at, I could invite you back to those chambers we enjoyed so much, to properly celebrate my new Dukedom. Not even the Sharess' Caress’s whores were able to scratch that itch you started-

You quickly slipped back out, almost embarrassed with how the bastard saw you. Who you used to be… Maybe someone you still were.

“I’ll think about it.” You finally managed.

Gortash snide smile glinting in the bright candlelight.

“I look forward to our reacquaintance.” He murmured, voice dropping low, husky and suggestive.

Yep. No way any of your companions would ever overlook that. You didn’t even look at any of them as you turned on your heel and walked back out, as Duke Ravengard began to anoint Gortash as Duke, shame prickling the back of your neck. Though, whether it was from the dawning horror that your friends’ tadpoles were lodged in their heads because of you, or because… Someone’s darkened red eyes were trained on your skin, their footsteps following quick and close behind you.

Well, hopefully Mizora shares some truly abhorrent news downstairs to distract everyone from your own little reveal. Karlach had been beside herself when Gortash dropped the news, Wyll had been befuddled, but focused on his father, standing by with a blank look in his intelligent eyes. But Astarion? Not a word.

Silence was bad. Astarion was never quiet. Between quips and jabs, with the occasional double entendre laced compliment, your undead lover loved to hear his own voice and run his mouth. Not to say he wasn’t quiet at times. When absorbed in his books, when staring with a frown at a mirror, when quietly gazing at you across the campfire, red eyes glinting with the reflection of the flames.

However, this silence was none of those. This was the silence before he had snuck up to bite you for the first time. Before he had drawn his dagger to your throat. Before he was aiming to strike true.

“Nice to know that you always had a taste for the finer things in life.” He drawled, leaning back on his hay bale, making it look as comfy as a chaise longue. Delicately picking at his cuff, sprawled out as if he was tempting you.

“... Seems so.” You muttered, adjusting your bedroll again, to make sure none of the pieces of straw would dig into your skin.

“Seems so.” Astarion repeated after you, tongue curling as he mocked your blase statement. “Maybe we should swing by a nice furniture shop, see if you’d fuck a particularly fancy bureau next.”

“Astario-”

“No, no.” The elf gave a long suffering sigh, as if your… “Ex” appearing was the worst thing that had ever happened to him. “You have a type, darling. Dangerous. Excellently dressed. Though, I do say that I have the better hair by a mile, and that’s being polite.”

You couldn’t help but smile. When you two first met, his bitchiness made it impossible to please him, but since then it had become extremely endearing. At least now you knew you were saddled with him for life, and it was more entertaining to listen to him aggravate people.

The elf drank in your smile lazily before stretching out.

“Interesting couple of days. You nearly kill me, then you proclaim that you're Bhaal’s favorite child.” He mulled over, tapping his chin with a perfectly manicured finger. “Then worst of all, you drag me to meet your lover. I’ve had fun being a homewrecker before, but the other partner never really knew it was me who lured them out of the marriage bed and into the grave.”

“Astarion! I-”

“Now, darling.” He tutted. His smile was sharp, glinting, but there was something strangely fragile in his eyes. “You’re usually so good at letting me talk all I want.”

There was a beat of silence between you two, with him looking up at you with his charlatan’s smile and glassy eyes.

“Pretty sure your Gortash guessed I was the other man. Lovers of that sort do usually have a rather snide look when they find you out.” Astarion rolled onto his back with a languished sigh. “... Do you call him Gortash? Isn’t his first name Enver? That’s rather an ugly name to moan out.”

“I don’t.”

“Don’t what? Call him Enver? Or maybe Envie? Sounds rather like Envy, and I doubt that he’s one prone to jealousy-”

“Astarion, I don’t know him.” You finally snapped, giving up entirely on your patience for his bitchy shenanigans. “I have snippets of memories. He’s implied something was between us, but that’s between two people I hardly know anymore. Anyway, shouldn’t you be more worried about, I don’t know, everything else going on?”

“But I’m having so much fun playing the jealous lover. Don’t I get to play this out, to stamp my foot and demand you to never talk to him again? Shadow your every move and such?” He sighed through his nose, but something in his facade was slowly ebbing away. “... His offer is a good one.”

“His offer? To rejoin him in fucking up the entirety of Baldur’s Gate? C’mon.”

Astarion pondered your sentence before sitting up properly, easily slipping into a cross legged position.

“It would be easier. Wouldn’t have to fuss around with Raphael and the Gith. Get to go back to a comfy life of being the favorite child, with a Duke for a bed warmer and an Elder Brain to boss around.”

“Well, I’ve proven that I don’t like to do the easy thing.” You glanced at him, knowing how hard he had fought at first to keep you both as something casual, at most fuck buddies.

His pale lips quirked.

“Touche.”

Silence fell again, but this time you waited patiently, knowing that Astarion always needed a moment to slip into the sincerity that came when he actually wanted to talk to you about something important to him.

“I… I don’t like setting rules.” Well, that was obvious. Astarion thought that every boundary he wanted to put down would drive a wedge between you two. You barely managed to convince him you were okay with waiting to have sex, just for him to feel comfortable again. “... But….”

You waited, fingers skating over his ivory knuckles as he formed the words.

“.. Even if you start up your alliance with Gortash again, I… No starting up any dalliances you might have had. I don’t care if I have to share you, but I do get a say in who I share you with.”

Astarion’s eyes hardened, fragility dissolving into something heated and dark. You two were already seated close enough, but his lithe fingers gripped your chin and pulled you closer to him, his lips parted enough to reveal his pearly fangs in the fire light.

“And I will not share you with him. Anyone else might get the chance to think you have an equal relationship with them, like the one we have. But they’d be wrong. We belong to each other first and foremost. But he never gets to even get to hope to touch you like that again. Clear?”

You didn’t even have a moment to reply, not with his cool lips quickly pressing against yours, breathless despite not needing air. One of his teeth nicked your bottom lip as he hungrily pulled you closer, tongue dragging over the cut. If it had happened even just the day before, you’d have laughed and asked if he was already parched again, but this was different. This was not a moment that could be broken with a light hearted joke.

Astarion was making sure you understood in full, that you might have been with Gortash once upon a time, but that period was well and truly over.

… At least, it was for you and Astarion. That time in your life tied up with a box and thrown into the fire, with the two of you sharing a few more kisses before the night was over. But Gortash sat in his chambers, idly rubbing his knuckle over his stubbled chin. It had been quite a day.

Not many men got to be gifted the Dukedom of Baldur’s Gate, be threatened by an unhinged Changeling in his own room and see her long lost kin striding into his audience hall a few hours later. A smile flickered on his lips. You looked good. Even with your brain filled with holes, and unable to recall the brilliant plans you two had created, you were just as magnificent as the last time he ever saw you.

His dalliance with The Dark Urge, Bhaal’s favorite spawn, had surprised even him. He didn’t care for Orin’s messy dedication to her father, the way she was always just a word away from sinking her dagger into his chest, so why had he been so taken with her superior bloodkin? The one the cult actually adored and followed, the one who soaked the streets in blood and flayed anyone the God of Murder casted his bloodied gaze upon? Orin was beautiful… If you enjoyed the beauty of the vampiric quality. But even her looks never had him in the same breathless chokehold your eyes did.

He remembered that one look from you had his heart beating faster, with saliva pooling on his tongue. Even before the two of you were formally acquainted. The first moment he saw you, surrounded by the cultists of your father, to him you were majestic. Hells, you weren’t in any sort of garb that demanded worship, just the clothes you usually wore in the evening he later realized. But it didn't matter. The way you held yourself, with your eyes cold and collected, even when he could smell the blood on your skin. You were a master of your craft, of your art. While other Bhaal worshippers would dedicate themselves to him with fits of fury and love, smearing themselves with the hot blood of their victims, you were methodical.

You were perfect. No wonder you were his chosen. Not an amateur like Orin.

Gortash’s fingers idly skimmed over the map of the Sword Coast on his desk, swirling his goblet of wine, the red inching closer and closer to the rim with every motion. It was the same brand that you had shared with him before Orin had taken your place.

After you deigned to let him taste your body again, he had poured two chalices, hoping to dull your senses and keep you away from the ruins you lived in, under the city. You had just given a half smile at him and sipped upon the dark red liquid, your form still lovely and bare. He could still recall your last words with each other, your tongue stained red with the wine.

“It seems we’re on a precipice.” You hummed, flicking the dagger planted into the map of Elturel. “Tomorrow I journey to Thorm and then it shall all be in motion. Properly. No more waiting.”

“Have I ever complimented you on your pillow talk?” Gortash chuckled, skimming over the other bottles of wine lining his bureau, trying to find one that you’d enjoy enough to stay longer.

You didn’t say anything, just a throaty chuckle he basked in. He had come a long way for being a whipping boy for Raphael in the House of Hope. Now he was here, just a few weeks out from getting everything he could have ever wanted. Gortash remembers the nights he used to sleep with a knife under his pillow, even when Karlach had been stationed outside of his door. No longer would he feel the cold blade under the fabric by his cheek, for now he slept with the warm body of a weapon far greater next to him. If only you would stop leaving his side to be with the fanatics that swarmed you with adoration and pleas to watch you work.

“The reason you came crawling to me in the first place was for the Absolute’s Plan. Nothing gets you excited more than the prospect of your future power, does it?” The way your teeth glinted as you looked at him in the flickering candlelight had his breath stilling in his throat. Excitement pooled in his stomach and he made his way back over to you, even as you rolled your eyes and finished your wine.

“You know me so well.” He murmured, dragging his roughened palm across your stomach before pressing a kiss against your neck, inching his lips up to your jaw.

You hummed at the feeling, but unlike a few hours before, you didn’t relax into his wandering hands.

“This was a pleasant distraction. However, I must go do the rites for my Father before I leave.”

Would he have let you leave if he had known Orin would attempt to destroy all that you were? He didn’t know about that. Gortash would have to see. He was interested in learning about this new form of yours, memory riddled with holes. Were you just as ruthless as you once had been? Would you tear Orin limb from limb as you should, for even daring to try and take your place?

The side of his mouth tilted in a crooked smirk, taking a sip from his goblet, letting the flavor soak into his tongue before he swallowed.

Gortash saw a chance for something new, now that you were finally back in Baldur’s Gate. You weren’t one of the Chosen, not anymore. You would have to reclaim your power… And he was more than happy to offer himself up for your bloodied hands, to… Help you get your life back.

Be a crutch that you would stumble without. You’d never be as you once were, at least in the upcoming execution of the plan, unable to earn back the position of an untouchable. But he could bring you back up, as his very own weapon this time.

The Dark Urge that infested your being, Bhaal’s very own Chosen child, he’d have it. He’d have you. The blade he kept close to his body, with the blade that kissed his skin and threatened to split it open, but it never did.

Gortash hummed at the thought, before wetting his thumb and forefinger with his tongue, reaching out to extinguish the candle by his bedside and returned to the bed, one of the pillow’s still faintly smelling like you.

Down by the Elfsong Tavern, in the rented rooms Astarion was once so pleased about, the vampire spawn lay awake, feeling your breath against his collarbones from where you lay sleeping next to him. Once, it would be the norm that he was awake at night, only to doze during the day, but that hadn’t been the case for weeks now, not since he had the tadpole squirm in between his eyeball and the lid.

But it wasn’t his urge to go hunt the streets of Baldur’s Gate once more, to reacquaint himself with the habitat of his prey, that kept him up. It was his own thoughts.

Soon enough, he’d have to return to Cazador, who thought he could use him as a weapon for his own ascension. Astarion knew it wouldn’t happen. But now, his thoughts would stray from his own master, to the one that proclaimed himself as yours.

Yours. Your… Master? Your past lover? Your conspirator in arms?

In Moonrise, after Raphael’s deal, he had been full of swagger and confidence to return to his home, to face Cazador, with you by his side. Even the night where you shook him awake and told him the Urge was about to hurt him, forcing him to tie you down and sit with you till morning…. Even that night hadn’t shaken his confidence.

So why did meeting Gortash erase it?

Astarion sighed through his nose, rolling his eyes at his own string of pesky thoughts. He was being foolish. Weak. You wouldn’t abandon him for some freshly anointed Duke with hair riddled with split ends and hungry eyes.

He’d make sure of it.

#enver gortash #astarion #baldurs gate 3 #bg3 #nsft #quincewrites #this is so self indulgent because gortash said that fucking line and thats it all my thoughts were gone

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roseghoul26 · 1 month

Text

Javier Escuella x gn!Reader

Synopsis: For the last few nights, Javier’s guitar has been disappearing at night, returning back to its spot in the morning. No one in camp seems to know where it's going, and he’s getting real tired of his belongings getting taken. Tags: Not Beta Read, I Wrote This In Like Two Hours, Developing Relationship, Crushes, Fluff, You Steal Javier’s Guitar, Turns Out I Can Write Something Short(er), Arthur Morgan is a Nosy Bastard, But We Love Him Author's Note: i wanted to try writing from a different pov, and i needed a break from writing smut so here’s this little drabble <3

For the life of him, Javier could not figure out where his guitar was disappearing to each night.

He prided himself on being a very observant man, someone with eyes on the back of his head, as the saying went. He was quick to notice when someone was attempting to swindle him, pickpocket him, deceive him in any way. It’s how he’d survived so many years on his own, and how he excelled in the gang.

Even when it came to his belongings in camp, he kept a close eye on them. If he saw someone approaching his tent, even if he trusted them, he’d always keep an eye on their hands, not too keen on having someone steal his hard-earned belongings. It wasn’t that he didn’t trust his campmates, but he lived with a group of professional thieves; he could never be too cautious.

When it came to his guitar, his most treasured belonging, he watched it like a hawk whenever he was lingering around camp. If it wasn’t in his hands currently being played, then it was propped up on a barrel or stool, always in line of sight. So you’d think he’d notice when someone took it, right?

You’d think so, but the currently empty spot where it should be said otherwise. Every night for the last couple days, without fail, it had been snatched, only to be returned an hour later. The first time it happened, he nearly lost his mind, practically tearing apart the camp to find it. His relief was immeasurable when he saw it returned an hour later, with not a single scratch on it. He had then chalked it up to having too many drinks that night and forgetting where he had set it.

When the second night came around and it disappeared again, he was less worried than before, but he still began to ask around camp, keeping an eye out for the wooden instrument. Charles had just shrugged when he asked where it was, but even in the dim light he could see a slight grin on his face. He refused to elaborate further when Javier asked, and after a few moments of getting only silence to his question, he moved on to the next person.

Arthur was even less of a help, saying he saw someone take it, but didn’t say who or to where. He had cursed at Arthur then, and the other man just laughed in response.

Hosea hadn’t seen anything, apparently, and Sean was too drunk to even make out the whiskey bottle in his hand. Pearson was too preoccupied with making the camp dinner, and Mary-Beth claimed she was too busy reading to see anything, but the lack of a book near her made her lie very clear.

It was like the whole camp was conspiring against him, making him look like a fool. Every person he asked either feigned ignorance, or just straight up refused to tell him. It was when he asked Tilly that he got any sort of clue. She had pointed him in your direction, saying that he should ask you if you’d seen it.

Javier wasn’t sure what to make of you. The newcomer of the Van Der Linde gang, you’d been with them for about a month, and Javier had had very little opportunities to speak to you, always on different jobs for the camp. When he did speak to you, it was quick conversations, or around the campfire with the others. It wasn’t that he didn’t want to talk to you; it was quite the opposite. There was something intriguing about you, something that he couldn’t quite put a label on. You were talented, that was undeniable, and he’d heard nothing but praise about you from Dutch, which made you good his book.

But as he glanced over to where Tilly was pointing, any plan of speaking to you went right out the window. He quite literally stumbled over his words as he talked to Tilly, a small chuckle leaving her that he missed as he continued to watch you. You were sitting around the fire, in the middle of talking with Bill, Hosea, and Dutch. The light from the fire illuminated your face, and you felt his heart begin to race as he watched a beautiful smile appear on your face.

Another thing that Javier prided himself on was his confidence. He was suave, a charmer, and could talk his way out of anything. Yet as he watched you, all that confidence seemed to be sucked away, and the thought of talking to you became a daunting, impossible task; it was almost pathetic.

So, instead of following Tilly’s suggestions, he had just wished her a good night, heading back to his tent. He had to do a double take when he saw his guitar propped up in his usual spot, still in the same condition as it was prior. He felt like he was going insane.

Instead of playing like he normally did, he just went straight to bed, much to everyone’s confusion. He was confused, and not just about his guitar. He was confused on why he had reacted the way he did when he saw you. He’d never really thought of you in that way before, but now that he did, he couldn’t stop. Has he always found you that… beautiful? Was the reason why he didn’t talk to you not because of conflicting schedules, but because of his cowardice?

He didn’t sleep well that night.

He expected the next night to be the same thing, but was almost disappointed to find his guitar untouched the entire day. He even made a point not to play it, but there were no takers, and he went to bed even more confused.

It disappeared that night, and he somehow managed to not see who did it. It was like they were a phantom, invisible only to him. He practically stared holes into the empty spot as he awaited for the person to return to it, but when an hour passed and no one showed up, he got up, legs aching from sitting still for so long. A disbelieving sigh, followed by a string of curses in Spanish spilled from his mouth when there, behind him at one of the other campfires, the guitar sat. Arthur just smiled at him when Javier raised a brow in question, and it took every ounce of willpower in his body to not throttle the other man.

The rest of the week went like that. No matter how hard he tried, or how many “traps” he set up, he couldn’t catch the little thief. It was almost funny, the entire situation, but he was far too frustrated to find any amusement with it.

He had tried multiple times during that week to approach you, but it was like the universe hated him. One time, he nearly tripped over his own feet while making his way towards you, and you luckily didn’t see. When he successfully was able to walk, you were called away by Dutch, an apologetic look on your face as you walked away.

But most days, he just couldn’t bring himself to approach you. The others, Charles and Arthur especially, had picked up on his predicament, one of the kind enough to not tease him for it. The other, more specifically Arthur, found great pleasure in tormenting him about it. Charles had to stop him from attacking the other man, and that’s how he currently found himself alone in the woods, calming himself down with a cigarette. Normally, he would use his guitar as an outlet, but to his not-surprise, it was missing.

It had been a while since he was this far away from camp as Horseshoe Overlook at night. It was almost eerily peaceful, the sound of crickets and nocturnal animals the only thing he could hear. It was even colder, and he was grateful that he had slipped on a jacket earlier in the night.

Grass and branches crunched beneath his feet as he walked further into the woods, no intent behind his motions except for exploring. That was until he heard something in the distance, so light that he thought he was imagining it for a moment. It was music, a lone guitar, to be exact. Tales of hearing music in the woods from his childhood flooded his mind, yet he didn’t feel scared. Weirdly enough, he felt at ease, and he found himself walking closer to the sound.

It got louder as he went down the hill, and as he got closer he heard a voice accompanying the guitar. It was soft, uncertain almost, yet it was quite beautiful. It pulled at him, almost like a siren’s song, and he continued to make his way toward it, an excited energy buzzing in his body.

To say he was shocked to see you sitting against a rock, guitar in hand, singing those stunning melodies, would be an understatement. You had your back to him, and you doubt you could hear him approaching, and he glanced at the guitar in your hands. His new suspicions were confirmed when he was the familiar faded oak instrument in your hand; you were the one taking his guitar each night. If it were any other person, he would be pissed off. Yet he couldn’t find it in himself to be upset at you. Instead, he was amused, the hilarity of the situation finally revealing itself to him, and for once he didn't feel the need to run the other way instead of talking to you.

He stomped out the cigarette, still going unnoticed by you. Not wanting to startle you too badly, he cleared his throat, jumping himself a bit when you immediately stopped. There was now a gun in your hand, aimed directly at him, and he held his hands up. When you were able to make out it was just him in the darkness, you relaxed, holstering your gun. “Javier,” you breathed out, and he felt his heart jump at the way you said his name. “I’m so sorry…”

He waved it off. “I startled you. No need to apologize. I’d be a bit more concerned if you hadn’t done that.”

You huffed out a laugh. “So it’s good to be jumpy, then. Noted.”

“Being ‘jumpy’ keeps you alive. Heard way too many stories of people being a little too slow on the draw, and end up dead because of it.”

You just hummed thoughtfully, before a look of concern crept on your face. “I wasn’t disturbing you, was I?” You gestured to the guitar. “I thought I was far enough away from camp, but if you need me to move…”

“You’re fine,” he reassured. “And besides, even if I could hear you all the way from camp, you wouldn’t have disturbed me. You play wonderfully, and your voice is, well, beautiful.”

He swore you blushed at the praise, ducking your head in embarrassment. He watched as your fingers danced over the frets, almost like you were doing it out of nervous habit. “You’re too kind, Javier.”

“How long have you been playing?” He asked, taking a few steps toward you.

“Since I was a child.” You let out a breath, your head resting against the rock behind you. “Here,” you patted the ground beside you, “come sit.”

Praying that he wouldn’t make a fool of himself, he complied, your shoulders brushing as he sat. You didn’t seem to mind, not pulling away. In fact, you almost seemed to relax even more, but he quickly banished that train of thought. He was reading too much into it.

You continued. “I’m admittedly a bit rusty; I stopped playin’ a few years back. But then I saw the guitar in camp, and Arthur said it didn’t belong to anyone and I, dunno, just got the urge to start playin’ again.”

He had to bite back the laughter and the threat towards Arthur’s wellbeing that almost spilled from him. Of course Arthur was behind all this, the nosy bastard. He couldn’t tell if he was grateful or not, though.

“You should start playing in camp. They’re probably tired of hearing me play all the time.”

He couldn’t help the small smile that grew on his lips at the excited look on your face. “You play too?”

He nodded. “I do. I realize now you probably haven’t heard me yet.” And so you don’t realize who’s guitar that actually is.

You shook your head, the motion causing your arms to continuously brush against him. “Well, then how long have you played?” You shot his question back at him.

“Only during the past couple of years. Picked it up because I needed something to occupy my time, and I found I rather enjoyed it. Let’s just say, though, you’re much better than me.”

“Well, I don’t know ‘bout that,” you laughed. “I haven’t even heard you play yet.” You tried to hand him the guitar, but he just held his hand up, shaking his head lightly. It was adorable, the way you almost pouted.

“I promise, you’ll hear me soon enough. For now that guitar’s better off in your hands.”

You sighed, barely conceding. “Fine. But don’t get annoyed if I nag you ‘bout it.”

“You couldn’t annoy me if you tried,” Javier admitted, almost a bit too honestly. He wasn’t sure where this was coming from; it was like the filter on his mouth just shut off, scared off by your proximity. You cocked your head, confused, and Javier elaborated a bit further. “If it was any other person that was taking my guitar each night, then we’d have issues. But I don’t mind if it’s you.”

Shock then mortification washed over your face, and Javier regretted telling you for a moment, missing that soft smile. “This… this is yours?” You asked, voice rising in volume as you gestured to the instrument. You groaned when he nodded, head slumping against the rock, defeated. “And I’ve just been takin’ it each night. Javier, I am so sorry-”

Javier chuckled a bit. “Like I said, I don’t mind. You’ve treated it well, which is more than I can say for the others when it comes to my stuff.”

His words seemed to just go in one ear and straight out the other. Your cheeks had darkened from embarrassment, and he would’ve found it cute if you weren’t so upset. “But it’s not alright! I should’ve asked, I… I should’ve known Arthur was lyin’ when he said it didn’t belong to anyone. Oh, I’m gonna kill him,” you snarled, getting up quickly, not before gently setting the guitar in Javier’s lap.

He didn’t let you get too far, his hand instinctively reaching up to grab your wrist, halting you immediately. You were both equally shocked, both pairs of eyes glancing to where he was currently touching you. His heart hammered in his chest, but he didn’t let go, gently pulling you back towards him. “Stay. Please.”

You continued to stare at him, moth agape, and for a moment Javier thought he misread everything. But his worries about disgusting or upsetting you were quickly discarded when a bright grin adorned your face, a pleasant light in the darkness of night. With a gentle tug, Javier brought you back down to where you had just been sitting, his hand never leaving your wrist. It was weird, how quickly his body had missed the heat of you, and he unconsciously felt himself pressing close to your side.

Or maybe you were the one pressing into him. He couldn’t tell.

“I’m sorry.” He heard you apologize yet again, and he let out a lighthearted scoff.

“How many times do I have to say that it’s alright? I’m not lying, I swear!”

“And that’s what Arthur said, but here we are.” Even though your words were accusatory, he still heard a slight laugh behind them. “He was ‘bout to face my anger if he had just ruined anythin’ with you.”

“What do you mean?” He tried to not sound too hopeful.

“Well, I’ve been wantin’ to talk to you, to get to know you,” you admitted, no longer looking him in the eye. “But I thought by doin’ all this,” you pointed at the guitar in his lap,” that I ruined any chance of creatin’ any sort of… friendship with you.”

“Only a friendship, cariño?” There was that confidence he was known for, back now that he realized that his desire to know you wasn’t so one-sided.

Your head snapped to him when he said that, eyes going wide. “I… well…” you were extremely flustered, and Javier found great joy in the fact that he had done that to you. “We’ll just have to see, won’t we?”

“Yes, we will.” He murmured. He finally let go of your wrist, smiling a bit at the way you seemed to sadden, but his touch wasn’t gone for long. Running his fingers across the back of your hands, he then interlocked them, resting them on your thighs.

Another beautiful smile from you dazzled him, and he sighed in contentment when you tentatively rested your head on his shoulder. In no world did he imagine that this was how his night would end, but he was certainly not complaining, especially when you moved impossibly closer to him.

When the two of you returned back to camp hours later, hand in hand, guitar in your own, laughter making you breathless, he barely noticed the looks from the others, too caught up in you to even bother to look elsewhere. Something new flickered in his chest, something he hadn’t felt in a while, and it took until he tried to fall asleep to put a name to it.

For a moment, he thought it was just love, but even it was overshadowed by the other thing he was feeling: hope. For the first time in a long time, Javier Escuella went to bed with hope for the next day, and he had you to thank.

#rdr2 #red dead redemption 2 #javier escuella x you #javier escuella rdr2 #javier escuella x reader #javier escuella

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modawg · 1 month

Text

major yap warning; deep dive into parecabeth (parent!percabeth)

what age were we thinking percabeth would have kids ?

to me annabeth has always been such a planner that i always thought she'd plan all that out, like on their wedding night annabeth pulls out like three binders with ages on the front '20-30's, 30's-40's' and is like "bitch you better be ready"LMAO, though i KNOW percy is DYING to have children i also know percy would def respect her decision to have kids a little later after she's settled in her career

i think i always saw them (having a girl teehee) in their early 30's and i will always stand by the at home dad percy would def be

like maybe up until their ready he works to save; working maybe at an aquarium or some other random places that work with his skills (also dependent on what he actually goes to college for) then once annabeths secure they have their first kid percy stays home and writes his books based on the stories he would tell his daughter (like rick did)

this also gives them another source of income; he prob uses a fake name (cough rick riordan cough) so he doesn't get like stalked or smth but its still nice money to have

i think they'd have a simple two, maybe two girls (teehee) and reference camp as their other kids; their kids growing up surrounded by hundreds of other demigod kids along with the kids of their friends

i once read this fanfic where annabeth designed and built the home they have kids in and i agree with that deeply i think she would get pregnant right as the house would finish up and use the rest of her pregnancy to decorate and really home it up until she gave birth

i think they would stay close to NYC to be closer to sally and paul (and prob annabeths job too) but it would be further away from the city and closer to Montauk

I think that house (and family tbh) would be the pillar for everyone else like most of the time if their friends want to see them they go there rather then the other way around

they probably have cookouts every other weekend, porch jams into the night when apollo kids come to visit, i think the house def has enough room for guests, demigods dropping by every so often for a place to stay but I also think its common curtesy to not try and pry like they don't try to get them to join they just come to shower, to get some wisdom and leave; I think having percy and annabeth as parents would cause a shift in CHB like they always do, percabeth is literally the next generation of adult greek demigods even if they aren't the first to have kids they're the first since the first war to LIVE this long, and to have a fulfilling life that they're willingly sharing with CHB and i think that would really start to give greek demigods hope pushing them more towards the future CJ has (GOD I LOVE THEM)

speaking of room; theres a guest room on the first floor with big windows and house plants that they call the g-room for green room, built for the man himself, g-man. Juniper and Grover come to visit alllllll the time (along with tyson) like its basically their second house, everyone refers to their kids as cousins and even when they grow up theres no questioning that

^ jumping back to having kids i could def see apollo blessing annabeth with an easy pregnancy, safe birth, and quick recovery; i could see percy and annabeth telling CHB and CJ just a couple days after and them pulling up to camp with a big, but quiet, celebration; big feasts and sentimental presents, i could see CHB burning shrouds like they did after their first quest all beautifully embroidered, the campfire dancing with different colors from everyones emotions

i wish we knew more about CJ traditions but i know they would have a feast too and it would be like unlocking the next level being able to explore CJ from the new lighting of parenthood; they probably have an honorary small house gifted to them so they can come and visit whenever but i feel like most friends would come to CHB for the bigger celebration first

god and don't get me started on the hunters GOD i just know thalia is BAWLINGGG and she def comes to visit all the time bc she's probably the god-mother like how grovers probably the god-father

and i know that convo was a hard one having literally everyone in the room crying when they asked

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lanafofana · 19 days

Text

To soothe, Ignites

It's been three days since i had this thought hit my brain like a freight train and ive been chewing on it ever since in a google doc and anyway here you go

Pairing: Halsin x (female) Tav

Warning: the weight of burgeoning, unresolved tension

Summary: It's just a nice friendly, platonic massage, what's the worst that could happen?

Rating: M just to be safe. Nothing really overly explicit

Halsin rubs the back of his neck and leans back a little, stretching, a faint frown on his weathered face. Across the camp, Tav watches discreetly over the edge of her book. It’s not the first time she’s witnessed him absently soothing an ache at the end of the day.

It occurs to her that, for being such a large man, he must get quite the cramp in his neck from always having to bow his head to talk to her and her companions. Someone calls to her and she turns away, distracted from the vein of thought.

It isn’t until later, after they’ve eaten their dinner and people have started to drift back to their own tents, she picks up the thread again. First watch is barely a chore at all with how her mind, resistant to settling down for the evening, spins through a dizzying whirl of thoughts.

Generally she stokes the fire with naught but a book for company, occasionally walking the perimeter of camp and puzzling on the mystery of the Absolute. Tonight though, the cult is a distant problem, distant as their destination in Baldur’s Gate anyway. With Ketheric defeated and another long stretch to their journey waiting for morning to begin she finds her mind wandering to topics much closer at hand.

The elf was a powerful druid. His command of the druidic arts was a sight to behold though she only caught glimpses of it during the assault on Moonrise. Of course, she vividly remembers the warmth of his healing magic mending her seconds after an arrow had caught her between the ribs. It had been quick. The pain had torn through her concentration like a blaze of hellfire. She had crashed to her knees, the taste of iron and mortality on her tongue, her vision blurring with shadows. She’d barely had time to suck in a wet sounding wheeze when his hands had been on her, nature’s divine magic enveloping her entirely.

“You’re all right, lass,” he’d said firmly, as if so secure in the inevitability of her being alright that he would brook no argument on the matter. From her or her fatal injury. The pain had reduced to a manageable ache and she’d sucked in a lungful of air greedily, hardly aware of it when he’d dragged her back to her feet. Until she’d seen the bugbear running up behind him, bloody axe raised high, and then she’d shoved him away and instantly thrown herself back into the fray of violence.

The archdruid had proven himself more than just a valuable ally, but a good companion too. Perhaps even a friend. He’d always been polite and sincere, if a little distant. More attentive to his god, paying an impressive amount of time dedicated to his prayers and meditations rather than the camaraderie and dramas of their little camp. Still, even if he did not seek out her or anyone else’s companionship he was always willing to sit with her during her watch when she sought out his. Putting down his book or whatever he was doing with that scrap of wood he was always carrying and putting the full weight of his attention and focus on her entirely.

Since reuniting the two halves of Thaniel’s spirit it seemed to Tav that Halsin also seemed more whole. As if a missing piece of his own spirit had finally slotted back into place. His smiles seemed warmer and his attention more focused outward than in.

As if summoned by the force of her thoughts, Tav caught movement from the corner of her eye and was surprised to see the druid himself emerge from the gloom of the forest. He was on his way to his own tent but paused when he saw her in the glow of the campfire.

“Good evening,” he greets, approaching. He’s doffed his shirt, a common habit of his in the evening but the glow of the fire gives the planes of his chest an otherworldly glow.

Tav feels the corners of her smile lift, the clattering of her thoughts stilling. “That it is,” she agrees. “For once.”

With the shadow curse lifted she can finally spy the twinkling of stars between the boughs of the trees. When a breeze flutters through camp it feels like fresh air being breathed into the land instead of a death rattle come to herald some horrific doom.

Halsin, following her gaze to the sky, smiles and nods in assent. “And for many more nights to come, I believe.”

Lost in thought he doesn’t feel her gaze as she takes the opportunity to openly study him. He looks well, not relaxed per say, but a little stiff. Absentmindedly the druid raises a hand and rubs at his neck, cocking his head as if to relieve a persistent ache and Tav comes to a sudden decision.

“Come. Sit,” she gestures to the space before her by the fire. Halsin gives her a quizzical smile, his brows furrowed. “You’ve been worrying that neck of yours like a dog with a bone, let me help.”

“It is nothing to be concerned about,” he tries to defer but Tav is adamant.

“Nonsense. Can’t have my favorite archdruid suffering,” she teases. “Not when I have the means to alleviate it very easily. Come.” She reaches down from her perch on the log they’ve been using as seating and pats the ground between her feet expectantly. “Allow me.”

Hesitating for the span of a breath Halsin relents, sitting himself before her. At her feet he spies a book and picks it up curiously. “A travel guide?”

Tav hums and widens the gap between her knees, gently guiding him closer for a better reach. Despite the cooling autumn night air his bare skin radiates heat and she tries not to think too much about any other circumstances where her legs might bracket his body so close to hers. Or of his proximity to her own budding source of heat. Swallowing, mouth suddenly very dry, Tav refocuses on the task at hand. “Would you like to read it? Probably not much new information for you but the author’s particular, ah, outlook is quite something. An entertaining read if not a wholly informative one.”

Halsin chuckles, opening and scanning the text. “Thank you, I’ve found my own reading material quite exhausted of late.”

Brushing his tawny hair off his shoulders, Tav tsk’s with mock reproach. “You should have said, I’ve quite the collection now. When you’ve finished with that one, let me know.”

“You are incredibly generous,” Halsin murmurs but it’s so low she can’t be sure if she was meant to hear it.

At first it feels clumsy as she maps out the expanse of his wide shoulders. In truth, it’s been a very long time since she’s done anything like this for someone but, much like picking up the sword again after a decade or so of neglecting the craft, her hands seem to know their way around better than her mind. With dextrous skill she gets to work, alternating between using her thumbs and the heel of her palms to glide over thick muscle, coaxing each gnarl to release.

The camp is quiet, the rest of her companions lost to slumber, and she quickly loses herself to the lull of the crackling fire and the delicate flutter of turning pages as Halsin reads. They don’t speak but the silence is comfortable, easy.

With each rigid cord of muscle she rubs into submission the druid relaxes a little more, the occasional sigh reaching her ears that makes her smile with smug triumph. When she finds a particularly persistent knot she increases the pressure of her stroke eliciting a grunt.

“Gods, sorry,” she murmurs hastily, easing her touch to rest lightly against his warm skin, feeling her cheeks flush with chagrin at her over enthusiasm. Halsin merely shakes his head. He turns his face to eye her with a gentle smile, the hazel of his eyes dark against the backdrop of the firelight.

“Nothing to apologize for,” he assures her softly. “I am quite unharmed. Continue if you wish.”

Trusting he’s not merely humoring her she resumes her ministrations with more care. She devotes her attention to increasing the pressure when necessary with exacting precision. Working her way across his shoulders until she comes to the tight line of muscles branching up his neck. Each stroke is steady and firm.

Between the monotony of the movements and the intensity of her focus it’s some time before she realizes he hasn’t turned a page in a while. His shoulders are lax and when she strokes a thumb up the nape of his neck he leans into it, only slightly, as if unconsciously.

Tav is not unaware of the intimacy of the moment. She’d put her own lustful thoughts in a box and buried it deep in the back of her mind since his gentle rebuffment of her clumsy advances at the tiefling party. An entire age ago from this moment, but it springs open now.

With a detached sort of curiosity, as if she is watching her hands from outside herself she runs deft fingers through his hair and scratches at the delicate skin at the base of his scalp. He shivers and releases a sound that is more akin to a sensation rumbling up from his chest and buzzing along her fingertips like electricity. It feels like crossing an invisible line.

The druid and the ranger still, as if both caught together in a web they don’t quite know how to navigate. He doesn’t move away and, pulse suddenly hammering in her throat, Tav rests her hands on the top of his shoulders gently. She drags the pads of her fingers down his back, skimming the warmth of his body and he exhales heavily, a sound that travels up Tav’s spine with expectation. An ache begins to bloom inside her core, a greedy hunger that flexes and curls under her skin with intoxicating heat and intent.

“My my, isn’t this cozy?”

The dulcet tone of Astarion’s voice breaks the delicate thread of something that had risen up between them like the sharp crack of a snapping live wire and Tav jerks her hands away guiltily, embarrassment drowning out the previous brief flickerings of passion.

“Astarion,” she greets and hopes he doesn’t pick up on the breathless waver in her tone. No such luck, his red eyes practically gleam in the dim evening light as he takes them in by the fire. She clears her throat, her scattering thoughts tangling in on themselves while she looks for solid ground. “What are you–”

“Second watch, darling.” The vampire’s expression is too sharp, too knowing. “Off to bed you pop. Our fearless leader should be well rested for the journey ahead.”

Halsin stirs from his place on the ground, shifting and rising as if lumbering out of a trance. “Of course,” he says and offers his hand to pull her up from the log. “It’s later than I realized. Forgive me.”

Whatever spell had enthralled them is broken and the look in his eye is friendly, polite. It burns more than the embarrassment had. Her hand is still in his and she withdraws it, feeling uncertain of her footing and hating it.

“Gentlemen.” She feels like she’s still mentally gathering the parts of her that had spilled out and stuffing it all inside a deep dark hole inside herself. An easier task if she also didn’t feel like instead of flesh, her entire person was made of sticky goop. “See you in the morning.”

“Sweet dreams, dear,” Astarion calls out to her, something in his dark voice suggestive. She raises a hand without looking back and beats a hasty retreat.

The air is cold now, especially away from the fire. Curling up in her little makeshift tent, Tav does little to resist the memory of being wrapped in the warm glow of the druid’s body heat. She stares at the ceiling of her little world and wonders what the hell was that.

#bg3 fanfiction #halsin x tav #halsin #halsin silverbough #bg3 tav

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amica-aenigmata-naboo · 8 months

Text

COLLISION

Astarion x Y/N - Chapter 4 - 3.9K WC

Masterlist

Chapter 1

Chapter 2

Chapter 3

Chapter 4 (you are here!)

Chapter 5 NSFW 18+

Chapter 6 NSFW 18+

Chapter 7 NSFW 18+

Warnings: mention of SA (not detailed), drug use (elixir), slightly steamy (not NSFW)

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A sunbeam perfectly aimed for your face is what woke you. The warmth making you smile before you lazily got up from your bedroll, wincing a bit. You saw everyone seemingly at the bonfire looking like they were ready to head out. Everyone apart from a certain vampire. You jogged over to the campfire from your tent.

“Y/N! Thank the gods you’re awake. We were all going to head out and visit a merchant, care to join us?” Karlach beamed.

You went to answer but you winced, hard. Enough for Karlach and the others to notice. You lifted up your shirt to reveal the wound the nurse left on your lower stomach.

“That’s infected, no wonder you’re in pain.” Gale said, moving to retrieve a salve from his backpack. “Here,” he said, rubbing it into your skin before conjuring gauze to cover it. It felt cool and soothed the hateful heat emitting from the wound. “That’ll take a few hours to clear the infection out and fully heal the wound. You’ll need to stay here and rest for the day. Astarion will stay with you; help keep the camp safe and keep you company.”

“Sure it's a good idea keeping those two together?” Shadowheart asked, alluding to the punching incident.

“We’ll be fine.” you reassured her, giving her shoulder a light squeeze.

“Well we best be off. Want anything from the merchant?” Karlach asked.

“I’d love a book or two if you could find any for cheap.” you asked shyly, “I’ll pay you back when I can.”

Karlach shook her head, “No need, books it is! Rest easy soldier!” she said starting to leave camp.

Gale clapped your shoulder before leaving, “Books, eh? A cleric after my own heart.” he smiled.

And just like that, camp was quiet aside from the occasional bird. You elected to change into a different pair of small clothes. A simple black, flowy long sleeve. Much too large for you but that's what made it so comfy. Slipping on a new pair of under shorts you hauled your dirty clothes and armor to the streamside. You trudged back up the hill to grab your phone. So far it hasn’t needed to be enchanted again, it has yet to fall below 100%. You peered into Astarion’s tent as you walked past it, he was still asleep (meditating?), best to leave him alone.

Returning to the stream with your phone you started to play music. The soft beats of Cooks by Still Woozy bumped along as you softly sang to it, cleaning your clothes and armor.

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

Astarion watched you walk up and down the hill to the stream twice, acting asleep when you peered into his tent. He snuck down the hill, grabbing two bright red apples before standing a few feet behind you. The music you listened to was strange, nothing like he had heard before. Your world must have been strange. He made his way to you, shifting the rocks as he walked so he wouldn’t startle you. You looked up at him, a smile graced your face that would put the sun to shame. His rare doe eyes made an appearance along with a genuine smirk. Nothing seductive or tricky about it, just unhideable glee. He felt so wrong and yet so right being this happy with another person. Most of all he felt confused, unsure of how to proceed with all these new feelings that accompanied freedom. He pushed the anxiety to the back of his mind, silently holding out one of the apples to you. You gently put your armor down, wiping your wet hands on your shirt quickly before taking the fruit.

“Thank you.” you smiled at him before motioning for him to sit with you as you took a bite. Astarion sat with his back against the tree you had hung your clothes on to dry. His feet next to your legs as you sat criss cross fully facing him. He ate a few bites of his apple before looking into your eyes.

“What?” he asked, he had felt you staring at him.

“Sorry! I just… I didn’t know vampires could eat real food.” you tried to say casually, finding your apple to be most interesting in the moment as you stared at it in your lap.

He chuckled, “We need blood to survive but we can still imbibe in the pleasures of mortals.”

You nodded, giving a short chuckle of embarrassment.

Astarion bent his head a little to catch your eyes which you quickly averted. He sighed, “Any other vampiric queries? You must be dying to know…” he smirked his usual taunting smirk at you.

“Are you sure? I don’t wanna make you uncomfortable…” you eyed him.

His heart grew two sizes. You cared about his feelings? You weren't going to make him talk if he didn’t want to? You surprised him everyday, and today was no exception. He nodded at you.

“Can you eat garlic?” you asked.

He laughed and looked at you confused, “Are vampires from your world so weak they can be taken out by a vegetable?”

“Apparently.” you laughed, “How come you can be in the sun?”

“That’s a new development thanks to our little worms. Usually I’d be a pile of ash.” he grimaced at the end.

You nodded curtly, “Wooden stake to the heart, is that lethal for vampires here?”

“Who wouldn’t that kill?” he asked rhetorically.

“Good point.” you said finishing your apple before throwing the core into the stream, Astarion doing the same shortly after. “How old are you?”

“230.” he said softly, the air changing into something sour.

You looked at him empathetically, scooching closer so you could sit next to him. Hesitantly you softly grabbed his hand, giving him every opportunity to pull away. He watched you trace his knuckles, veins, tendons, etc. You spoke softly as you interlaced your fingers, “People often speak in riddles when trying to comfort others… but the pain you’ve endured. All I can say is I’m so sorry Astarion. So very sorry.” You gently kissed the back of his hand before continuing to trace his veins.

He nodded and looked down to hide the stray tear that threatened to spill. He squeezed your hand before letting it go. “Would you like to do something fun?” he asked suddenly.

You pulled your hand back, missing his touch already all the while suppressing any urges to crave intimacy with him. “Absolutely! It seems we have the camp to ourselves today, no better time to do something fun.” you smiled at him standing up. You moved your armor to a large rock so everything could start drying. Astarion walked to his tent and you followed. He turned to you after digging in his supply pack for a moment. He held a rectangular bottle with a dazzling gold liquid swirling about inside.

“Elixir of Folly.” he said, handing it to you. You inspected the bottle before popping the lid open. A few random sparkles fizzled out before you brought the bottle to your nose, it smelled like vanilla and death. You quickly pulled it back from your face. Astarion laughed at your reaction. He gently took the open bottle from you.

“Don’t worry, a little death is what makes this so fun. You’ll be fine I promise.” he said before drinking half the bottle. He handed the rest to you, waiting to see if you trusted him enough to try it. You took the bottle, “Cheers?” you said quizzically before gulping down the drink. You didn’t feel any different.

“So… what does it do? Make you happy or something?” you asked, sitting on his bedroll. He sat next to you knocking your shoulder with his playfully.

“Euphoric is a better term. Let's just say this potion is for… recreational use.” He could feel a gentle warmth engulf him. His brain felt fuzzy and everything seemed full of wonder. A gentle smile laid on his face as his eyes glossed over.

You felt the same sensations, “I’m sorry but did we just do drugs? Magical drugs?” you said with a slight panic to your voice.

“Darling, with all due respect, shut up and enjoy just this once. Please?” he sighed.

You put your hands up in surrender, “Alright, I trust you.”

His eyes widened a bit, the soft glow around you surely proved you were an angel. A stupid idea really, to trust him. And yet, all he could feel was pride and joy at the fact that you trusted him and wanted to protect him. He would never admit it, not even to himself, but he trusted you too. Is this what it feels like to be cared for? You let out a long sigh, pulling him from his thoughts. He watched you shift so your whole body was laying in the pleasant sunlight. You stretched, reminding him of a cat on a sunny day. Your hand flew up, eyes still closed. He looked at your hand before taking it. You yanked him down so he was laying next to you in the sun. He quickly relaxed, stretching and making himself comfortable in the sun. He watched you, memorizing your face while it was blissed out.

“Ya know,” you began softly, keeping your eyes shut “I never do this in my world. I feel like I belong to the dark there. It's… lonely and… miserable if I’m honest. I like being here with you. With all of you. I don’t even know if I want to go back.” you hummed, a little smile never leaving your face.

What Astarion neglected to tell you was that Elixir of Folly was known for loosening tongues and dropping guards as well as its euphoric side effects. He really had no ill intentions, he really did just want to have fun with you. But he couldn’t help but hope for exactly what was happening, you dropping your guard enough for him to probe.

“You don’t want to go home?” he asked, gently brushing a piece of hair out of your closed eyes.

Your eyes fluttered open, you turned on your side so you were facing him. You softly took his hand that brushed your hair away, holding it to your cheek and rubbing your thumb over his knuckles repeatedly. “If I’m honest… it never felt like home. I was stuck doing the same mundane thing over and over again every day… it made life… melancholic.” you sighed, looking down sadly. It's true, life wasn’t easier before all this happened to you. Drowning in bills, fighting depression, being alone. Maybe that's why you thought so little of going home. You don’t really want to go back, but you should… shouldn’t you? The longer you stayed in Baldur’s Gate the less you missed your old life, the less you remembered it.

Astarion hummed, rubbing his thumb over your cheek bone. “Really? No lovers are going to miss you terribly?” he asked.

You let out a huff that was almost a chuckle, “I haven’t had a lover in quite some time.” you replied.

“Oh? And why’s that?” he said quietly shifting ever so slightly closer to you.

“I was tired of being used. I’d rather have nothing than be used like a collection of parts for somebody else.” you paused for a moment before flicking your eyes to his momentarily, “I’d live 1000 lifetimes alone if it meant I got to have one love. One true love. But… I don’t know if I was made to be loved. I think I was made to love others. To look after everyone else and make sure they feel okay. Some people are just born with tragedy in their blood I suppose.” you sighed.

“I understand,” he whispered. Trying to change the mood he quickly asked, “What’s your favorite color?”

You giggled at his ungraceful change of topic but let it slide, “Black.” you replied.

“Favorite book?”

“A Portrait of Dorian Grey.” you said quickly. “Behind every exquisite thing that existed, there was something tragic.” you quoted aloud.

Astarion smiled, he liked that you enjoyed reading. Even more impressive that you could recall quotes from the book so easily. He felt the quote sink into his mind, thinking how something tragic must be behind you just as there is for him.

“A secret?” he asked hesitantly, looking at you.

“I like you a lot. Even when you didn’t like me. It made me so sad you didn’t like me. It made me even sadder when you wanted to have sex because I know you don’t want to.” you rattled off, sounding progressively more sleepy and unfocused.

Astarion’s chest gave a squeeze, “How did you know I didn’t want to?”

“I know what it’s like to have someone do things to your body that you don’t want. I also know what it’s like to feel like you owe someone your body. Both are wretched feelings. I could see them in your eyes. I’d never want to hurt you, especially like that.” you mumbled, unconsciously snuggling yourself into his chest as you drifted off to sleep.

Astarion let this tear slip down his face. He listened to your even heartbeat, he watched the hypnotic rise and fall of your chest. He held you while you slept until he too started to feel drowsy.

“I’m going to fall for you and it will kill me 1000 times over when you inevitably leave.” he whispered to nobody in particular, slipping into a dreamless sleep.

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

Karlach and everyone else went back to their tents as soon as they all came back. Everyone was exhausted from having to walk two towns over since the usual merchant wasn’t in town today. She walked past Astarion’s tent with little care until she noticed four feet just barely peeking outside of the tent flap. Her curiosity got the better of her and she opened the tent flap slightly. Her fiery heart jolted with happiness. The two of you lost in slumber and each other's arms. Karlach silently took your phone from next to you, she took a picture of the two of you. She had come to love your phone, especially after she learned how to take selfies. Gently plopping the phone back down next to you, she backed away from the tent.

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

You awoke to the ghosting of a hand rubbing soft circles on your exposed hip and lower back. Fluttering your eyes open, you were met with Astarion’s ruby eyes. You jolted back a little, the feeling of the elixir completely gone. You tried to scoot away but he held you in place.

“I’m sorry, I’ll go…” you said, again trying to leave. You couldn’t believe you fell asleep on the one person who didn’t need the pressure or even the innuendo of intimacy.

“Stay?” Astarion asked hopefully, readjusting his grip on your hip so he could pull you back to him.

“Astarion stop, you don’t have to..” you looked at him with a fragile gaze.

“But what if I want to?” he said against your lips as he finally pulled you flush to him, in the softest tone you’d ever heard him utter. His eyes looked between your lips and eyes repeatedly, asking an unspoken question.

You wish you could. Gods you do. But you couldn’t tell if this was real, or if he had ulterior motives. Your eyes grew sad as you placed your hand on his chest, putting space between the two of you.

“We shouldn’t.” you said painfully.

Astarion felt a pang in his chest, not the good kind. Did you not feel the air grow thick and sweet whenever you two were alone? He shifted his gaze downwards feeling hurt but determined not to show it.

He cleared his throat before swiftly pulling away and getting up, “We should join the others, I can smell whatever they’re roasting out there.” He helped you up with one arm.

Truth be told, your heart hurt just as much as his unbeating one. You wanted so badly to touch him, to feel him, to know him in every way. The last few weeks you have been together have brought you so much closer and every day you fell more and more for the pale elf. You’d never say it was love stirring inside you. Not out loud at least.

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

The group quickly took to drinking when a new companion came to camp that night. Halsin had finally returned. You introduced yourself and found yourself drinking with the friendly druid like you were old friends. You had quite the green thumb back home, plants covered your home wall to wall. You two talked about nature endlessly and before you knew it, you felt drunk. Karlach had started to play music on your phone a while ago, everyone had come to like having the music going during supper. Astarion sat on the adjacent log at the campfire, unusually quiet beside Karlach. He watched you light up for the druid. Has he misread everything between you two over the past few weeks?

A particularly lively song came on, Allegro by Antonio Vivaldi. Halsin stood, extending his hand to you. You looked at him, your cheeks warming “I… I’m sorry… I don’t exactly know how to dance to this type of music.”

“Where better to learn than among friends?” he declared pulling you up and to the side of the campfire.

Halsin was patient. He taught you the most simple waltz, or what you could call a waltz in your state. You giggled and smiled, it was infectious. Everyone seemed to enjoy the sight. Everyone except Astarion who huffed and walked back to his tent after the third song had passed. He couldn’t bear to watch you grow close to another. The way Halsin put his hands on you so gently. Could he ever do such a thing? To watch someone else end up with someone he wanted so desperately. So purely. It left an awful taste in his mouth and a wrenching in his heart.

You spun around and finished your dance. Out of breath you thanked Halsin for the lovely dances before excusing yourself and trotting after Astarion.

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

You knocked lightly on the tent post. Astarion hummed, expecting another one of your companions perhaps. You entered his tent and he tutted looking away from you.

“What?” he said sharply.

“I wanted to check on you… why’d you leave?” you said shifting from foot to foot, his tone making you feel uneasy.

“Oh you noticed? I thought you’d be in Halsin’s bed by now.” the venom in his voice made you cringe, stepping back from him.

“What? Why would you think that? I just met him tonight?” you sounded confused.

“Like that would stop you.” He said standing up, moving to walk past you.

You ignored the way you felt your eyes getting misty, putting your hand against his chest making him stop and look at you. “You’re being hurtful. Why?” you asked.

He sighed, the last time he tried this approach it got him punched so he might as well attempt to talk to you about his feelings. If he could manage it.

“Why didn’t you kiss me?” he whispered, his own eyes misting.

You bit your lip before responding truthfully, “Because I don’t know if you truly want it. Or if you’re trying to use me. I… I can't do that again, Astarion. I won't.” you paused, taking in a shaky breath “And I won't let you use yourself to get something from me. You need but ask and I will do as you ask without hesitation.”

“Kiss me then.” he asked, his eyes big and pleading.

You looked down, shaking your head. You let the tears fall but did your best to keep quiet so Astarion didn’t hear you breaking. You crumbled to the ground, the weight of everything sinking you. Astarion descended with you. He looked so soft, so concerned. So unlike the snooty jerk you initially met.

“Can I tell you a secret?” he asked, taking your hand, tracing your knuckles, veins, tendons, etc. “You could cut me down and I’d ask you to do it again. Everything with you feels unlike anything else. It drives me mad honestly.” His admission shocked you, you went to reply before he spoke again, “And yet, I seek you out every day because whatever you have poisoned me with… it's as if you are the antidote. I cannot breathe when you are not near. I rise and rest with my thoughts being overwhelmed by you.” he sighed shakily.

You looked at him, absolutely gobsmacked. Your tears hadn’t ceased; Astarion raised his hand hesitantly before deciding to beg forgiveness instead of asking permission before he wiped your cheeks with his thumb. He held your face in his palm, the lump in his throat growing with each passing moment.

“I want you. That is my choice, that is my decision, those are my feelings. And if you won’t have me just say the -” Astarion’s preparation for rejection caught in his throat when you consumed him in the most feather light kiss. Your hands shook as you gingerly held his face, ever so lightly deepening the kiss. You pulled back slightly, eyeing him for a reaction. His eyes were closed, he had a smile on his lips, and his tongue darted out to taste yourself on him.

“Can I do that again?” you ask barely above a whisper. He was captivating. His lips tasted like brandy and you could get lost in them forever.

“As you wish.” he said, opening his eyes. Pulling you to him so that you straddled him. He felt you tense above him, not putting your weight on him. “We can stop if either of us feels anything besides pleasure.” he assured you as he held your face with one hand and your hip with another. He looked so calm, as if this is right where he wanted to be. You settled yourself in his lap quickly before going back to his lips. You moved them hesitantly before he kissed you with so much passion it made your head spin. The kiss quickly turned into a battle for dominance but it was no surprise that the man with 200 years experience over you won. Astarion moved to lay you down, you felt his hands roam your body. He kissed your jaw, moving down to your neck, then your collar bones. His fingers gently untied the laces of your shirt.

You went rigid.

Scared

Is what rang out in his mind. He quickly pulled off of you, glancing you over to see if he had somehow hurt you.

“I’m sorry…” you whispered, pulling your shirt together. “Can we… not do anything more?”

Astarion’s worry faded into understanding, “Of course.” he smiled as he pulled off of you. “Could I be so bold as to ask you to stay? Just to sleep!” he quickly clarified.

You smiled up at him, your erratic heartbeat already returning to normal. “I’d love to.” you said as you shifted yourself on his bedroll.

He laid next to you gently, pulling a silken blanket over the two of you. Of course he had a silk blanket for sleeping on the ground. You chuckled to yourself at the thought. You curled into his chest once again, falling asleep all too quickly. Astarion ran his fingers through your hair, he kissed your forehead one final time before closing his eyes, preparing for sleep to take him.

“To the beginning of my end.” he cheers’ed himself.

Hello! Some not awesome stuff happened in life recently, so I thought I'd write a bit. I hope you guys enjoy this chapter. Next chapter might have some NSFW stuff in it. What do you think? Please let me know if there is anything you'd like to see in the story or suggestions you may have. I love getting comments! Thanks for reading! <3

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nyx-is-missing · 4 months

Text

SUNSET PART 2

Or a pretty bad doctor

Clarisse La Rue x Cassandra De Young (oc! Apollo's kid)

Summary: Clarisse is going to colect her dept, by treating her wounds with a very bad doctor. Or the one when Clarisse likes to taunt people.

Warnings: that time when you actually stop to think about your own life, mentions (one) of blood, confident Clarisse (she likes to taunt pretty girls, even when they are bad doctors)

(We actually get a clarisse pov today!)

Part 1 is here!

There were exactly seven demigods in the Apollo's cabin this afternoon.

An absurdly low number for a summer everyday, but considering im early, this must be common.

I've never seen camp so empty, its feels like another reality if im being honest, nobody saw when me and Clarisse walked in togheter, nor when she walked with me to the front of my cabin, and dropped the suitcases on the grass and started to walk towards her own cabin.

"Hey Clarisse! ....thank you! I wouldnt have made it withou-" she turned her head to me

"You owe me, dont forget that."

Like she would allow me to, why children of Ares got no patience? Or like, actually willingness to be sociable? They cant act like that with everybody, can they?

This was the first time i actually got space in this cabin, as well as the first time i could pick my own bed and place all my things calmly, is this how castor and pollux live everyday? Lucky them.

I mean, i love my siblings, but we are too many to such limited space.

And as much as that does leads us to somewhat funny situations, we are still too many, with too few bathrooms and mirrors.

Being like this allowed us to breathe, and think slowly, as if a person who lived his whole life in the busy city moved to a town who was mostly farm.

And that was when i started to miss the mess my siblings made when we were all togheter, when i actually had time to stop and think.

I cant even imagine the things my grandpa is saying about me, how he must be trying to poison the family against ourselves, he does that even when the smallest things dont go his way, and right now, the whole family must think of me as if i am Queen Mary I, and they are the protestants im trying to burn alive.

I didnt go to dinner that night, nor to the campfire, i wouldnt manage to eat without feeling dizzy after, and i was sure i was not in the mood for singing that night.

I just showered, put my pajamas on, grabbed a book, layed on my bed and hoped that time ran faster.

Coming to camp earlier had its benefits, at least to me, pick the bed, be aware of any new faces earlier, train more (with people who could actually be named opponents, wich just meant they had better sense of combat than a inflatable doll from a gas station) and of course, run away from insufferable family members who i had to face for nine months, to see more insfferable family members who i'll still have to face for three months.

Funny.

I just wouldnt expect to see her there too.

She always likes to spend some days of her rich girl summer life in her family's yatch, or shopping..not that i keep track of her life, i know very little, but i do know that she likes to get to camp when its already messy, people all around, shooting arrows, swimming, painting, fighting, singing and all, but this year she was here early and with a strange look on her face.

It was just..weird.

I didnt felt right.

But what surprised me the most was she asking for my help, and being in dept with me.

She didnt even looked at me in a normal day.

I think there is something to do with her family, they look at me, almost always with a ugly face, and then they keep her away from me.

So, she speaking to me was a surprise.

But to be honest, if i hadnt saw her earlier, i wouldnt even know she was here, i mean, she didnt left her cabin all...not that i kept track of that, but still, unsual, especially for a Apollo kid, they always love to be out and about under the sun.

But then, the whole afternoon? Nothing

Dinner? Nothing

Campfire? Nothing

At night when i went to practice a bit more with my sword? Nothing

She better not have run away, because she is still in dept with me, and im going to collect it right now.

It was late, but the cabin still had a small light coming from inside.

Strange, all of the cabins had their lights out, they were sleeping.

I knocked on the door, waited and knocked again, after a few seconds a sleepy Cassandra oppened the door, rubbing her eyes and taking a few seconds to realize what was happening.

Then she looked down, and saw me holding my own arm to stop the blood.

"Already?" She looked at me again, and started to tie her hair up, it always amazed me how in every situation she was her.

If people didnt knew she was a demigodess, they would probably think she never even stepped in earth ground, that she never had to share, or suffered any problems at all, her family raised her to be little miss perfect, and little miss perfect she was, even when what she was wearing looked like it came straight out of a beach party, she made it look like designer clothes, she looked expensive, always.

"You said whenever, today is whenever too" i said, walking in when she stepped aside to give me space to enter. "Wait, where are your siblings?"

"We were only in seven today, and since the camp is empty, they are probably sleeping with their friends, or boyfriend and girlfriends." She looked around, probably for a first aid kid.

"What about you? Nobody invited little miss magazine cover for a sleepover?" She grabs a kit and sits at one bed, starring at me...oh right, i sit down by her side.

"Im not in the mood for that tonight, Clarisse"

"Based of the fact you are still fully d-"

She stomped her feet on the ground

"Do you always have to be like this? Thats why my family wont let me talk to you! Im not in the mood for jokes, for sleepovers and specially for us to keep stinging each other" she oppened a little alcohol bottle, to clean the wounds i think.

"Oh they wont let you? so you wanted to? That-AH WHY?" I screamed when she just poured the alcohol straight into the cut

"Okay that didnt hurt....a lot, youre being dramatic, also, enough of that talk" she said while cleaning my cuts with a piece of cotton. "Now, we dont have nectar or ambrosia in here, and going to the infirmary is to risky..but you have small cuts, i think this will do....dontfinditweird... please"

"Why would i find it weir-" i was cut mid sentence by her giving a small kiss in my arm, and starting to bandage me right away, though i did saw some of my cuts getting better. "Im sorry, you do that since when?"

"Its..been a time, i just never used it because, you know, going around kissing random demigod's wounds would be, weird and unhygienic" she holded a finger up, and then a second, as if counting the reasons. "But hey, you are all set, and you should go, before anyone notices the lights on"

"Hey they were on before i even came in" i got up, and so did she, gathering all the used stuff and throwing them in the bin by the side of the bed.

"True, i was reading before, and fell asleep...i guess thank you... in a certain way, if you hadnt came here they would stay on the whole night and the chance of my siblings getting caught being out of the cabin was huge.." i looked around, "The song of Achilles" was it was half open on one of the beds.

"Greek myth retelling?" I ask walking towards the door, she just hums in agreement.

"A pretty good book, you should try to read it...i dont know if you like books very much but.. yeah"

"Maybe, tell me when you finish it, ill see if im in the mood for it" i open the door and put a step outside, but before i trully left i said "You are a pretty bad doctor, you know? Not even treating all the wounds, my lips are also cut" i watched her face go from confusion to realization in a second

"Clarisse! you-"

I slammed the door.

#lesbian #fanfic #clarisse pjo #clarisse la rue #pjo series #pjo tv show #clarisse la rue x oc

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moonclade · 11 months

Note

Hey! Doing good I hope?

I’ll make this request quick, I was thinking of a Percy x Melinoe!reader? Since her mother is known as a minor goddess of nightmares and ghosts, people are either afraid of her or doesn’t care about her that much. She even hangs out with ghosts more than people, but of course, dear ol’ Percy is curious of her and tries to befriend her? You know, a good strangers to lovers. Is this good? If not, just tell me so I can fix it!

note ― i'm so rusty when it comes to writing about pjo but i really hope i did well with this! (also sorry it took so long, i wasn't able to work on it for a week). i didn't want to make this like 20k words long, so i didn't really include the bridge from acquaintances to lovers

not proofread || lowercase intended & lots of use of the word "you"

1.5k words

the sun smiles as it burns your skin, and you scowl as the blinding rays make it unbearable for you to even stare ahead. as usual, you were wandering around camp, attempting to find something to do.

you really didn't know why you bothered. considering the fact that you always reverted to your normal routine of finding a bench and reading. and if you were lucky enough to find a shaded and secluded spot, you might even have someone to talk to.

that someone being whatever spirit would bother entertaining you. obviously not any of the other demigods, as majority of them never tried befriending you or were simply scared of the fact you were the daughter of such a "dark" goddess. of course, a few of the other campers didn't mind your family and your abilities, such as nico di angelo. the two of you weren't close, but he always acknowledged you whenever you would lock eyes. he was definitely your favorite at camp.

you never understood why people were scarfed of you just because of your mom. it was laughable honestly, and it led you to have a slight resentment for everyone who actively avoided you. daughter of a goddess of nightmares and ghosts, being invisible and feared by everyone. very ironic.

being alone took a while to get used to, but you eventually made it work out, opting for the quiet whispers of the long-passed spirits. they never judged you, although a few definitely make fun of your isolation.

not finding any activity to do, you decided to read a book you were itching to finish instead of conversing with your little clique of ghosts. your eyes lit up as you found the perfect spot to sit, away from prying eyes and the harsh beams of sunlight.

making yourself comfortable, you found your marked page and started where you left off, ready to finally get this book out the way and start a new one.

suddenly, a blocky figure blocks the sparse amount of light you were using to read. you look up to see, surprisingly, percy jackson.

you were confused and a bit intrigued. you've never interacted with him, but you always admired him from afar. he was a role model to you, both socially and when it comes to slaying monsters.

you would never admit you studied him thoroughly, usually in the light of the campfire, watching as he would crack a joke and then burst into a grin and let out a hearty laugh.

you were definitely jealous of him. that's all.

"i've seen you around camp. (name), right?" he questioned.

a nod was all he received. you looked around for the inevitable group of campers laughing at this interaction, but you saw none. relaxing a little, you lock eyes with his striking sea-colored ones.

"i'm bad with words." you respond, shaking your head. you avert your gaze back to the book you were reading. a romance, and an undeniably cliche one at that.

you loved reading about things that weren't commonplace in your life, like fantasy, but especially romance. everyone was too scared of you for you to even imagine about having a relationship or a love life in general. every crush that developed in your heart was quickly stowed away until it eventually died off.

"it's alright. i never see you talking to anyone around camp." he takes a seat on the bench, a reasonable distance away from you that it wouldn't seem he was uncomfortable with you, like most campers, but not close enough to make it awkward for you.

"never have to, everyone too terrified of my "sinister aura" and prowess in war. and also, my mom." you slightly joke, not wanting him to pity you or something along those lines. he tilted his head like he was going to say something in response to your slightly self-deprecating statement.

"you talk like a book." he blurted. you didn't know if you should take that as a compliment, but even with the short time you've talked with percy, you knew he wouldn't mean it as an insult. just a weirdly phrased statement.

"y'know, in a poetic way." he sheepishly rubbed his neck as you stared at him. the corners of your lips upturned, and he calmed down a little knowing that you didn't take offense.

"you talk a lot," you counter. "but in a good way."

he returns a smile and notices the book you had been slowly inching away from his view.

"what's that about?"

oh my gods. you weren't getting out this one.

"it's just a little romance," you rub your wrists awkwardly, hoping he wouldn't ask for a more in-depth answer.

but the gods were not in your favor today.

"but what is it about?" he quirked an eyebrow at your unwillingness to elaborate on the plot.

"it's just about a boy and a girl meeting randomly and they slowly fall in love at a summer camp. really cliche and probably boring to you." the book made it into his hands as he scanned the front cover art, not bothering to open the book and attempt to read it, thankfully. you could guess why though.

"at a summer camp?"

"i like reading about stuff that could be relatable to me," you shrugged.

"well is it relatable?" he seemed interested.

"do you always ask so many questions?" you grumble. "and no, not really. do you think i have a love life here?"

every answer was turning into a question, followed by another question.

he looked you up and down and smirked. "you don't?"

you swipe your book back and roll your eyes. "yes, jackson. you do realize i have more ghost friends than living ones, right?"

"adds on to the charm. now, tell me more about what happens in the book."

you groan outwardly, but on the inside, you were giddy at finally being able to talk to someone, especially percy.

giving in, you begin to go off on the plot and major events in the story, and your opinions on characters.

before the two of you knew it, the sun was already cut in half by the horizon and the sky was a flurry of colors slowly being overtaken by the dark blues and blacks of the evening.

"how about we meet here again tomorrow?" percy asks.

you were already warming up to the son of poseidon. it could be because you haven't talked to another human in a long time, or he had that vibe to him that let you feel safe.

sometimes you would go and hang out with him and his group, but you didn't know for sure if they liked you that much. it took you months to even decide if percy himself considered you a friend or not.

majority of time you'd go back to that same bench you met him at, and if he was free, he'd meet you there and the two of you would talk about how the book you were reading was going or just how life was going.

but the bench wasn't the only place you hung out. percy would invite you to spar with him or walk around camp, or take part in events going around camp. slowly but surely, more people warmed up to you as they noticed the bond you and percy had. you were still wary and apprehensive of those people though, knowing they judged you even though they didn't know you. but it was a welcome change.

it was half past noon, and you make your way over to your and percy's rendezvous point to hang out for the day. the battered wooden bench that was now carved with quotes and drawings that spanned the seat.

you didn't have to even wait a minute, percy jogging up to you with a hand behind his back.

"what're you hiding?" you try and peer over his shoulder but he moves the object out of your sight.

"well," he looks around everywhere but you, before taking in a big breath and finally meeting your gaze. "i really like you!" he shows you the assortment of flowers most likely picked from the forest nearby.

you process his statement. the percy jackson likes you? never in a thousand years would you have thought that someone could have a crush on you, but never ever would you have dreamed of percy liking you.

it was like your life was turned upside down ever since you met him. you managed to finally have someone to talk to, and also get people to stop fearing you. and it was all because of him. he was the saint in your life.

"hey, it's alright if you don't like me bac-" you cut him off quickly by pressing your lips on his. sure you weren't an experienced kisser, but you've read enough to know how to shut him up.

he went from stiff in surprise to leaning into the kiss, the bouquet long forgotten on the ground. you couldn't get enough of him, throwing your arms around his shoulders and bringing him closer. he slipped his hands around your waist, a shiver running down your back at the touch.

he pulled away, and you clung onto him, not wanting his warmth to leave you.

after a moment of bated breath, you piped up.

"i love you too, percy."

#[🌙clade]#i LOWKEY hate this #percy jackson #x reader #percy jackson x reader #demigods #pjo #hoo #pjo x reader #riordanverse #percy jackson and the olympians #heroes of olympus #hoo x reader

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egginround · 4 months

Text

A Nice, Simple Plan

Astarion has a plan to woo Tav. A nice, simple plan that backfires. [or perhaps, he never needed one anyway]

Astarion x Stoic!Tav (she/her) - 3.5k - No CW - Fluff + Astarion learns the power of apology lol - Part of the Elfsong Tavern's 2024 Valentine Exchange for the lovely @leftoverdinosaurbones :)

A wisp of hair curled around her ear. A flex in her fingers as she massaged her knuckles. A near imperceptible twitch in her wrist.

From his tent, Astarion was watching Tav as she sat by the campfire. A book laid open on his crossed legs, the pages smooth as he flicked through them absent-mindedly. The rise and fall of her shoulders, the strings fraying from the bottom of her shirt. Tav was listening in on a story by the famed Blade of Frontiers – one that their tiefling companion couldn’t seem to get enough of. Though the leader of their merry band, she remained quiet, opting to let the warlock do most of the talking.

Barely into his whirlwind of an adventure and peace continued to escape Astarion. Unpleasant wriggling at the back of his skull often kept him distracted at night – but not as much as the fear that dragged down his spine when he thought of Cazador. Astarion quelled his quickened breath. Now was not the time – it was imperative to lure Tav into keeping him by her side. As the unlikely prism-bearer, Tav’s fate was bound to his whether he liked it or not. The fire flickered as she stretched out the day’s toil from her body.

The vampire’s scarlet eyes darted between the members of camp. The wizard was rummaging through his own tent, no doubt finding some cure to his woefully expensive condition, as the Githyanki warrior sharpened her steel nearby. The incessant scraping nearly did Astarion’s head in. Turning back to his target, he caught scrapes of the daring heroism recounted over the fire. Tav’s relaxed demeanour and silence may have made her seem disinterested, but there was a quiet sparkle in her eyes. She must have been engrossed. Maybe self-important tall tales were the key to gaining her trust, he mused.

It was critical that he would be the one to capture her, Astarion reminded himself, and he was willing to do all it took to do so. It would be easy – a mark like any another. He saw the way that Tav lingered around him, the stares she thought he doesn’t notice. Astarion knew it all. He would have her in the palm of his hand and in his bed before long. A strange tightness coiled in him, but he gave it no mind. It didn’t matter – he shook the thoughts away before they had the chance to form. What mattered right now was his revenge and his long-deserved freedom. He refocused his gaze.

The stretch of her shirt across the back of her nape. The glow of the fire on the side of her face, the curve of her cheek, the small quirk in her smile whenever her eyes drifted over to him.

Upon his lap, his book remained unturned.

It had been a draining day. The sun beat down on their backs as they explored the areas west of the Emerald Grove. If there was a single more complaint from Lae’zel about a crèche, Astarion might seriously burst into flames – tadpole included.

To make matters worse, the dusty road they followed was littered with fresh and foul corpses up ahead – and not even of the human variety! The stench of hyena blood hung heavy in the air as the sun seemed intent on intensifying it. Astarion lamented his luck.

“Chk, another distraction in the search for a crèche,” Lae’zel spat out. If she hadn’t mentioned the same thing several times before, Astarion might have been more inclined to listen.

Instead, he lagged back behind the Githyanki, falling into the same pace as their sorcerer leader. If Tav noticed anything, she certainly didn’t say it. Then again, it seemed rare of her to say more than needed. In that respect, she and Lae’zel were strikingly alike.

“It’s a rather sunny day, darling,” he drawled, turning to her. “One spent far better on a sandy beach than on a dry mountain road, no?”

A non-committal hum.

“Ah, well,” Astarion endeavoured, jaw ever so slightly clenched. “Maybe our dear Tav prefers something a bit darker.”

He dragged down his voice to a low whisper for only Tav to hear. “A night under a canopy of stars perhaps? The luxury of a stolen evening away, sharing secrets in the shadows - maybe even a sin or two…”

That seemed to have grabbed her attention. Astarion looked at her through his eyelashes – oh so close to chipping at this near impossible facade when -

“Hold up, soldiers!”

Karlach shouted out, rushing to drag Tav to the forefront of their group. “Something gave these lot a right beating. Something not entirely, hm, natural. Let’s smash it!”

The tiefling’s words begged yet another incoming fight, and Astarion felt the internal sigh building up in him finally give way. A sick cracking of bones rung through the air, and a hells-damned gnoll decided to pop out to ruin his day even more. At least he was able to take out his frustrations in battle.

Crouching to the side, Astarion readied his daggers as he blended into the shadows. Both Lae’zel and Karlach sprung to the front, as they were oft to do, whilst Tav summoned the sorcery that swelled through her blood. The air snapped and crackled, and wisps of her hair warped in the winds that swirled around her. It was strangely captivating. Astarion inched forward to find the perfect opportunity to strike when suddenly, the hairs on the back of his neck stood on end.

He smelled the fresh gnoll behind him before he could see it.

Astarion whipped his head around. Its rancid breath hit him like a ton of bricks, knocking out whatever thought he had in his mind. He barely had a second to raise his blades in self-defence when a bolt of lightning shot straight out – hitting the gnoll squarely in the back of its head. The splatter of blood on his cheek was all Astarion could register as the dead body thumped onto the ground, its singed flesh sizzling. He panted as he tried to regain his surroundings. A ringing in his ears. A shaky breath. A small quirk in that damned smile of hers.

Astarion tore through the rest of the pack.

It was pretty much a unanimous decision to camp for the night after their encounter. Though lovers of all things violent and bloody, even these adventurers had to take a break. This particular night found most of them taking time in their own tents. Astarion was no exception.

Nearly a few weeks now, and the snail’s pace of progress with Tav had him nearly tearing his hair out in frustration. It was never often that he had to wait more than a few days to lure someone back for Cazador. And even if it was, he was more likely to find a different victim instead. He took a breath and tried to stop his pacing across the front of his tent. Anymore, and Shadowheart might pick up on his worry – or even worse, share it with Gale.

A frown pulled his eyebrows together. It wasn’t that she didn’t find him attractive … right? Surely not.

An odd feeling burrowed into his mind, uncomfortable and slimy. No, Astarion knew his arsenal of weapons extended past his dexterity with blades and lock picks to his looks, his charm, his way with words. He just had to be patient, that’s all.

He dug around for his sewing kit. It couldn’t hurt to patch up every now and then.

“Looking for something?”

He mentally cursed. Of all the times for Tav to catch him, it just had to be now. Astarion was getting rather fed up with being caught off guard. Regardless, he cleared his throat, ready to entice their favourite sorcerer once more.

“Not now that you’re here, darling.”

She snorted loudly at this. Astarion paused for a moment, taken aback before noticing the wine sloshing around in the goblet she held. Ah, the explanation for her more relaxed demeanour.

Tav took a seat on one of the cushions outside his tent, nursing her glass a little more. The hair she usually had swept up had lost its hold throughout the day. Astarion poured himself a glass from the many stolen bottles of wine they horded before sitting nearby. He settled himself into a more comfortable position, as Tav watched a stray comet streak across the sky. Thoughts in his mind raced as he tried to come up with what to say, but the day’s exhaustion seemed intent to keeping them in disarray.

“Fields,” Tav finally said, out of the blue.

“Um, usually a ‘hello’ or ‘how are you?’ starts a conversation, my dear,” he huffed back. He’s all for a bit of mystery, but Tav often took rather too much liberty. Said cryptic turned to him, eyes peeking over her cup.

“I prefer a grassy field than a beach on a sunny day. Too much sand in the wrong places, harder to remove than blades of grass.” She fiddled with the frays on her blouse.

“Ah,” momentarily stunned, Astarion processed her sudden chattiness before replying. “A sage choice. The quiet of a forest is hard to resist.”

“Mm.”

They fell back into a weird silence.

“What -” Tav cleared her throat. “What do you like?”

She pointedly looked away, her glass now permanently attached to her lip, hiding her face from his discerning eyes. Astarion felt almost tempted to laugh, but the weariness of the day – not to mention the frustrations of their whole predicament – had him feeling strangely raw.

“I like the city,” he opted to reply. “Cesspool of a place, Baldur’s Gate, but it’s one I’ve known my whole life. The way the sun sparkles on the water by the port – it’s a sight that I, um, missed.”

“Hm, I can understand that.”

Tav rocked the dark red wine back and forth in her cup. Above them, stars twinkled through the clouds. A beat passed before Tav stood up abruptly, nearly knocking Astarion back in her haste, as she began to leave. Before she went, she stiffly called out to him.

“We’ll get there. I promise.”

And with that, Tav strode off. His eyes lingered on the covers of her tent flapping shut before he settled into his own. There was a new lightness to his shoulders that soothed itself into his weary bones.

A weird tenseness hung between the two of them after that, one that had him feeling stripped raw. Astarion discovered a strange prickling of his skin whenever he was around her, but a gnawing at his bones when he was not. Distancing himself from her (a tactical retreat, of course), Astarion tried to ponder on these feelings from afar. In battle, he made sure to snipe any long-ranged archers that could interrupt Tav’s spellcasting. During travel, any pickpocket that got close to her was met with a warning glint of a danger and a sudden disappearance of coin. For every step he took away, Tav took one closer. It was now common for her to seek him out at night for a chat about their pasts, or to simply watch the sky above. Whatever felt constantly lodged in his throat seemed to give way during these moments, only to return the morning next. The plan Astarion had felt completely derailed.

It must have been Tav’s weird behaviour throwing him off his balance, he finally concluded. Whenever they spoke, there was always that rocky feeling in him, as if the wind had picked up all his breath in a gust and left him in its wake when she went. Whatever it was, it was time to push it out his mind. He needed to focus on securing Tav’s favour - no matter how foreign the idea now tasted on his tongue.

Astarion abhorred the goblin camp. Inane bickering, mud everywhere, and the stench of worg dung, unwashed goblins and Hells know what else heavy in the air – distaste was rolling off Astarion in waves. The only saving grace this infernal place had was that he had the chance to destroy it all during their rescue mission of the archdruid Halsin.

Halsin. Tall, bulky elf with a deep voice and apparently enough peace and love to fill the whole bloody universe. Said druid now stood by Tav, thanking her profusely for his rescue, whilst Astarion was still wiping goblin guts off his knives. Whilst he did take glee in slashing and carving his way out of the goblin settlement, the exhaustion and lack of blood to feed on was starting to take its toll. If that wasn’t bad enough, the rescue mission ended up useless as they were still no closer to controlling the tadpoles in their minds.

“Really darlings,” his voice dripping with irritation as everyone gathered themselves after the gruelling fight, “next time, let’s not go galivanting through the entirety of Faerûn, saving whichever poor fool so much as bats their eyelashes at us.”

The irony was not lost on Tav.

Astarion dragged himself through the rest of the deserted camp, looking for valuables to plunder before they left. A necklace, a ring or two. Out the corner of his eye, Shadowheart was busy casting healing spells on a particularly nasty gash left on Wyll. Tav herself stood by the warlock as her hand pressed tight to a long wound winding down her arm. Astarion kept an eye out for healing potions as he dug through the rest of the chests.

He was in the middle of examining a silver pendant when he spied Halsin approach Tav. The druid’s hands glowed a soft warm light as he ran them over Tav’s wounded arm, standing surely too close than necessary. A slam rang through the courtyard when Astarion shut a chest a touch too hard.

“Can we get going?” he complained. Frustration was oozing out of him. His usually precise control over his words seemed to have evaporated over the course of battle. A sneer seemed permanently etched onto his face.

The only indicator of a response from Tav was a quick huff. If any words swelled on her tongue, she bit them down before Astarion could hear them. A bitterness was now seeping into him.

“Not longer now,” Wyll sighed out, relief colouring his voice at Shadowheart’s healing.

“Please, we’d be here all day if you all could help it,” Astarion bit back. “Probably saving a squirrel from a tree or some other inane charity.”

Tav gave him a warning glare, stoking the fires that had been simmering in him for far too long.

“The balance of nature requires constant vigilance,” Halsin replied smoothly, still way too near to Tav for any efficient healing he thought. “I hope that you all could come see what we do at the grove.”

Astarion huffed, “Like I’d ever want to see nonsense in such a waste of space.”

“Astarion!”

The look on Tav’s face was thunderous. The air crackled around her, a tell-tale sign of the heat rising in her veins. She stormed over to him, clutching her newly healed arm. Whatever remorse panged in Astarion was smothered by the resentment that broiled in him.

“There’s no way we could’ve let the goblins continue,” she argued. “Stopping them was important.”

“For what? To protect some irrelevant grassy hill so these - these idiots can frolic in the forests and roll in mud till the end of their days?!” Astarion snapped. “In case you haven’t noticed, my fate is lying in the balance. All of ours are! And yet you want to play saviour for what? A round of applause?”

His chest heaved, fangs bared in the dim light of the dungeon, sneering. “How droll.”

Pain flashed across Tav’s face. Poison seemed to pour out of every pore in Astarion’s skin as he waited for her reply. Indignation flashed across her eyes, like lightning across a dark grey sky.

“You don’t like it? Fine!” the final tether in Tav snapped as gusts of wind blew around her. “All of us have been trying so, so hard. I’ve been at the end of my rope for weeks – doing who knows what just for a semblance of peace in this gigantic mess we’ve landed in. You don’t like that – then fine!”

Tav pointed her finger straight into his chest.

“But don’t you ever – ever – dare accuse me of doing this for damn applause.”

Shoving him aside, she stalked off into the forest. The rest of the companions were stunned, having never seen such an outburst from their stoic friend. Exasperated, Astarion ran back into the Selunite temple, itching to find anyone, anything left to fight.

It was nightfall before Astarion finally left. Nothing was in the temple but dust and abandoned chests, to his chagrin. Irritated, tired, hungry. All these emotions brewed in his stomach – but there was one that stood out the most. Loneliness. He, of all people, felt … alone? The thought made him want to puke. He survived years in Cazador’s torment with no-one but himself. So why did he long for company now?

His previous anger was dying down to an ember. It was slowly being replaced with an absolutely terrible desire to return to camp and see his companions again. To see Gale learning with Lae’zel. To see Shadowheart gossiping with Wyll and Karlach. Try as he might, he was too exhausted to even smother his desire to see Tav. To maybe even apologise.

He groaned.

Kicking the dust up in the path, he made his way back.

As he predicted, the reception upon his return was less than warm.

The campfire crackled, and Gale to his credit was more than happy to see him return. Shadowheart seemed less than impressed at his outburst, but other than that, everyone seemed weirdly alright. There was no yelling at him, no threat to kick him straight out of camp. It seemed a near normal night, or as close to normal as they could get. Wanting to avoid any awkward conversations, Astarion made a beeline to his own tent, determined to spend the rest of the night in silence as he worked through the thoughts that hounded him recently.

He was surprised to see Tav waiting there for him.

She was startled at his return, and there was a small spark of satisfaction in him at catching her off-guard.

“You’re back,” she remarked.

“Yes. I am.” Astarion didn’t have much to reply either.

It seemed the outburst had taken as much a toll on Tav as it did on him. She seemed even more taciturn than usual, as if anything she had to say had been dragged out of her already. Tiredness was creeping onto her face. Astarion spied the unsightly scar running down her arm, and the words spilled out of him before he could stop it.

“I’m,” the words feel silly as they tumbled out, “sorry. I’m sorry.”

“O-oh.” Tav was speechless. Astarion stood up a bit straighter, desperate to shake the awkwardness off. The feeling of vulnerability was if a grip on him had finally been released – pain that gave way to a rush of something unknown.

“Under Cazador, I never really … needed to work with anyone else,” his hands spun randomly as he tried to explain himself. “I had to survive first. I had to be my own priority. I was terrified that anyone I ever got close to would bolt the second they knew who I really was - or worse, be made an example of.”

Tav took in his words, quiet as she always was, but now? It was for him. This space, this time to talk – it was all for him. The mere thought sent a giddy laugh bubbling through his heaving chest. Whether it was from nerves or happiness or just sheer relief – he neither knew nor cared. It sent an equally silly laugh through Tav.

“I could never be with anyone else, much less enjoy my time with them, you know. Things like sharing a glass of wine or waking up in the morning knowing I was safe with someone – it’s – I – I never knew how much it could mean to me. I didn’t realise how much … you could mean to me.”

Tav let out a breath she didn’t even know she was holding. “Astarion …”

She took his hand in hers – blissfully unaware to the pickup in his undead pulse – before smiling at him. “I’m just very glad you’re safe. And back with us. You said some awful things.”

“I know,” he laced their fingers tighter together, squeezing, “I’m sorry.”

It was a testament to their bond that she understood the words he hadn't the strength left to say, seeing past the bluster and fake charm. The fear he felt daily, the mask he wore, the scars of his past.

“I know it’s hard,” she whispered. “It’s hard for all of us, but we’ll get there. I promise.”

Astarion pulled her into the first genuine hug he’d had in years. He felt her hands wrap around him and nearly melted into the floor.

“Thank you,” he breathed out, feeling her heart thud against his. “Thank you.”

thanks for reading! :)

#bg3 #bg3 fanfic #astarion #astation x tav #fluff #astarion fluff #astarion fan #might edit and make the post more aesthetic later ahaha #dino if ur reading this IM SO HAPPY U LIKED THE FIC #i love exploring relationships #and even more for someone who desperately needs char development like Act 1 astartion #lols #eggin writes

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keldae · 5 months

Note

9. Totally platonic (as sarcastic as you want to take that one...) 11. In public - - for whomever strikes your fancy. =D

(not gonna lie, this was from 2016 so I don’t even remember what the original prompt list was. I thiiiiink snuggling? So we’re gonna roll with that!)

As arduous as the days on the road were, the evenings tended to be enjoyable, even with the threat of the Absolute and the cultists approaching Baldur's Gate. It was a time to rest after the day of hard travel, and enjoy a meal with people who had become close friends. It wasn't uncommon for a dice game to break out (which usually resulted in Astarion or Wyll cleaning everyone else out of their gold), or Devi playing a little bit on her newfound violin, or Halsin telling a story from years past. Even Withers seemed to enjoy the evenings, tolerating Arabella pestering him with questions with seemingly-endless patience.

This particular evening saw Devi chatting with Karlach as both women shared a bottle of wine they'd looted from Moonrise Towers. It certainly wasn't what the upper class would have approved of – gods knew Astarion had turned his nose up at it – but it suited Devi's Lower City tastes perfectly fine. She took a sip from the bottle, grinning as Karlach enthusiastically told her a story. “Listen, Gortash might present himself as some hotshot Lord now, but even he can fuck up, and did back in the day. Insulting a visiting Lady from Waterdeep?”

“I can't believe he referred to her as a maid!” Devi laughed. As she passed the wine back to Karlach, she took a look around the campsite. Halsin, shifted into his bear form, curled up with Scratch and the owlbear cub, who still needed a name… Wyll, patiently teaching Shadowheart how to dance, under Astarion’s watchful eye… Jaheira, lounging by the fire, reading a book… Lae’zel, inspecting her armour for any needed repairs…

And Gale, sitting near Jaheira, also with a book in hand. In the firelight, his orb tattoo was almost invisible. He looked calmer and far more at ease than he had before the assault on the Towers, now that he didn't have Mystra's orders hanging over his head. Devi felt her heart twist a bit at the reminder of how close she'd come to losing him.

As if sensing Devi's gaze, Gale looked up from his book. Their eyes made contact across the fire as his face softened in a smile. Gods, how could that man get even more handsome than he already was? Devi felt herself smile back at him, grateful to all the gods (... even Mystra, she supposed) that her wizard was still alive for her to love him.

“Oh, you two have it bad for each other,” Karlach laughed, bringing Devi's attention back to the tiefling. “Ya know we were all betting on when you were gonna figure it out, right?”

“Wait – you were betting on us?” Devi incredulously asked. “... Who won?”

Karlach’s grin widened. “Withers, believe it or not.”

“Our walking skeleton is invested in my love life?” Devi blinked as Karlach hooted with laughter. “That's disturbing as all hells.”

“You don’t wanna know about some of the questions we were gettin’ from the Harpers and the tieflings at the inn, either. Lots of the tieflings remembered you two making eyes at each other in the grove and wanted to know if you’d gotten in his robes yet…”

“The tieflings were asking?!” Devi groaned as Karlach guffawed. “Oh, hells–” She suddenly squeaked as she felt a giant’s invisible hand wrap around her torso and start to drag her backwards, in a gentle yet inescapable grip. When she looked around, she saw Gale sitting straight up, holding a hand out toward her; she could sense magic crackling around him, almost as clearly as she could see his smug grin as he pulled her closer.

Now no longer obligated to share the wine bottle, Karlach laughed merrily. “Hey! I wasn’t done hogging your lady’s attention, wizard!” Clearly not seriously offended at having lost her conversation partner, she took a swig of the wine, watching Devi float around the campfire toward Gale.

Gale’s ears went red, even in the firelight, but his grin just got wider. “Perhaps not, but I grow lonely over here. And Astarion isn’t quite as pleasant to snuggle as Devi is.”

“I certainly do not snuggle,” Astarion interjected, glancing over from the dancing lessons with a raised eyebrow, ignoring Wyll’s snort of laughter while he guided Shadowheart through a spin. “Unless I am particularly intoxicated, in which case I’ll warn Gale that it takes quite a bit to get me drunk, and I like to nibble.” He glanced over at Devi as she was magically pulled around the campfire, giggling. “Although now I’m rather curious if she likes to nibble as well–”

“That is for me to know,” Gale primly said, “and for you to only hypothesise about.” He set his book down, then extended both hands to catch Devi as she landed on his lap; giving her a kiss on the cheek, he wrapped his arms around her waist, his smug grin becoming a soft smile. “Hello, love.”

“Hello to you too, handsome. Miss me?” Devi laughed and wrapped her own arms around Gale’s chest, soaking in his warm presence.

“Immensely. I find that I require cuddles from a pretty half-Elven thief with the cutest slightly-drunken giggles to make my night complete.” Gale smiled, his dark eyes soft with affection. “Have I ever told you that you are adorable?” he asked, his voice lowering so only she could hear him.

“Adorable?” Devi tilted her head at him, thinking. “Don’t think anyone’s ever called me adorable before.”

“No? Everyone else in your life has been remiss – because you are beyond adorable.” Gale kissed her nose, and chuckled when she wrinkled it instinctively. “See? My point is proven. Adorable, and clever, and beautiful beyond what mere words can describe.”

“My charming, handsome wizard.” Devi beamed and gave Gale a light kiss on the lips, then adjusted her position on his lap until she could rest her cheek on his shoulder. Gale had to shift her slightly to reclaim his book from where he’d set it down; once that had been retrieved, he opened it back up, holding the book with one hand while his other arm wrapped comfortably around Devi’s hips, holding her close to him. “Good book?” she asked after a moment’s comfortable silence, as Karlach took her bottle of wine to go sit with Astarion and interject somewhat-helpful commentary on the dance lesson (earning a groan from Wyll and an indignant raised finger from Shadowheart).

Gale hummed in confirmation. “It’s a book on the creation of antidotes for poisons,” he murmured. He adjusted his hold on the book and started reading in a soft voice, his volume not carrying much further than Devi’s pointed ears. “‘I was sitting in the Elfsong, sipping my usual hot cocoa, the heat soothing the pain in my scale-less hands…’”

Still feeling a slight, pleasant buzz from the wine, Devi snuggled into Gale’s chest, her fingers lazily tracing a pattern on his chest through his purple tunic. This, she thought to herself as she felt Gale’s arm tighten around her, was a perfect night. If it wasn’t for the Absolute and its cultists, she could have stayed like this forever.

#bg3 fic #bg3 #gale x tav #gale/tav #gale of waterdeep #gale dekarios #Gale/Devi #Kel writes #Kel answers prompts a million years later #friendship #Karlach #Astarion

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dystopicjumpsuit · 11 months

Text

Watch and Learn, City Boy (Taylor's Version)

Rating: Mature/18+/Minors DNI

Pairing: Sergeant Hound x Fem!Reader

Wordcount: 2.8k

Warnings: fluff; SMUT; oral sex; PIV; playful partners; sex in a tent; dirty talk; Grizzer has seen some shit.

A/N: This was originally written for the Writer Wednesday week 1 challenge, and if you'd prefer to read a smut-free version, you can find it here. If you like spicy lemons, keep reading!

Want to read more Hound goodness? Check out this fic by @imarvelatthestars

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“Remind me why we’re doing this, again?” Hound grumbles as the two of you wrangle a pile of tent poles and canvas.

“Because the hotel didn’t allow massiffs,” you say, grunting a bit as you struggle with the heavy tent.

Technically, the hotel doesn’t allow clones, either, but you leave that unsaid. You had booked the room, paid the pet deposit, and traveled from Coruscant to Alderaan, only to be abruptly turned away at check-in. Before you left, you told the hotel concierge your opinion of their corporate bigotry, and now you are also banned for life. And so here the three of you are, setting up an ancient, decrepit canvas tent that you dug out of your parents’ attic.

Well, technically the two of you are setting up the tent while Grizzer explores your campsite, sniffing the lush greenery of Alderaan with interest. The massiff is accustomed to the hard plastcrete and rancid smells of Coruscant, and you wonder if she’s ever been in nature before.

“Relax,” you say. “I did this all the time growing up. It’ll be fun!”

“Sleeping in the dirt and eating rations is your idea of fun?” Hound asks.

“The tent has a floor,” you point out, “and believe me, we can do better than rations.”

Eventually, you wrestle the tent into submission and get two bedrolls laid out inside. The scent of old canvas, saturated with woodsmoke and memories, pulls you right back to your childhood: camping under the stars, swimming in the lake, lying in the sand and exploring the world around you. You can almost hear the shrieks of laughter and your father’s deep baritone as he sings a lullaby to you and your siblings.

You hang up a few strings of twinkle lights, and then, satisfied with the cozy little retreat you’ve created, you go back outside to get a campfire started. Hound is standing with his arms crossed, looking decidedly unimpressed with the entire situation.

“Has it occurred to you that there are wild animals in these woods?” he asks. “Gree told me about the wolf-cats of Alderaan.”

“Grizzer will keep us safe,” you reassure him. “Won’t you, girl? Who’s my sweet baby?”

Grizzer wiggles happily over to you and nuzzles into your chest as you squat to scritch behind her ear holes.

“Grizzer, have some dignity, for kark’s sake,” Hound says. “You are a soldier of the Republic, not a pampered lap-tooka.”

Grizzer ignores him and flops onto her back to beg for belly rubs. Seeing the way you fawn over the massiff, Hound can’t help but smile, remembering the day he met you.

“Grizzer! NO!” Hound chased after the bolting massiff as she charged an unsuspecting civilian in the middle of Monument Plaza. Grizzer had yanked the leash out of his hands and was running full-tilt through the scattering crowds. Too late, he saw her target: you. You were standing in the sun, laughing with a street vendor, and Hound would have taken a moment to appreciate your beauty if you hadn’t been directly in the path of certain doom. “Grizzer!” he shouted again. “Heel!” You turned toward the commotion with only a few meters between you and the charging massiff. Hound fought the urge to close his eyes before Grizzer launched herself and savaged you, but then something completely unexpected happened. You called out a word in a strange language, and the massiff skidded to a halt in front of you. You allowed her to sniff your hand, and then you pulled something out of your pocket and offered it to her. She took the treat and licked your hand as Hound finally caught up, heaving with exertion. “Sorry, ma’am,” he panted. “She slipped her leash. I don’t know what got into her.” You smiled up at him, and his heart thudded with more than just adrenaline when he saw the way your eyes sparkled. “She just smelled the treats,” you said with a shrug. “We always had massiffs when I was growing up, and I never got out of the habit of carrying a few treats in my pockets. I hope it’s all right that I gave her one; I really didn’t want to lose a hand.” In that moment, Hound knew he was utterly lost.

“Awww, is Daddy grumpy?” you coo at Grizzer as you rub her belly. “Is he a Cranky McGrumperson? Is he spreading his grumpy energy all over our campsite because he’s afraid to get his hands dirty?”

You shoot Hound a teasing look, and he stalks over to you, pulling you away from Grizzer and into his arms for a kiss. You sigh happily. You’ve been seeing Hound for a few weeks now, and you were hoping that a romantic trip to your home planet of Alderaan during his shore leave would give you an opportunity to take things to the next level. You had booked a room at a posh boutique hotel with a luxurious soaking tub and an incredible view of the mountains. Who knew the hoteliers would turn out to be gigantic dicks?

So you made a quick change of plans. You had been worried about Hound’s reaction to the idea of camping, but your other option was to take him to your parents’ home and sleep in your childhood bedroom, which… No thanks. Not the ideal setup for the intimate weekend you are planning.

You break away from Hound’s kiss feeling lightheaded. He’s an excellent kisser, and as you’ve discovered over the past weeks, a man who can kiss like that will bring a similar level of skill and enthusiasm to the bedroom (or the bedroll, as the case may be). Now all you have to do is coax him out of his sullen mood.

“Did I mention I happen to be an amazing cook?” you ask, fluttering your eyelashes.

His interest is immediately piqued. “How are you planning to cook out here?”

“Watch and learn, city boy,” you say with a grin.

One hour, two shaak steaks, and four bottles of ale later, Hound’s temper is remarkably improved.

“Where did you learn to cook over an open fire like that?” he asks.

“My dad taught me,” you say as you pull out a deck of sabacc cards. “I told you we used to do this all the time when I was a kid. You in?”

He nods, so you shuffle and deal.

“Your dad sounds like an interesting man,” he says. “Too bad he wasn’t home when we stopped by to get the camping gear. I’d like to meet him.”

You laugh, “Trust me, it’s better this way. You might be ready to take down the entire Separatist army, but you are not prepared for my parents’ boyfriend interrogation.”

“Boyfriend, is it?” Hound asks, his brown eyes twinkling.

“If you play your cards right,” you say with a smirk.

You play a few hands of sabacc, betting with pebbles since Hound doesn’t have any credits, and when it gets too dark to see the cards, you decide to change into pajamas. Grizzer goes into the tent with you and immediately flops down on a bedroll. When you’d packed for your trip, you were planning to be spending your nights in a luxury suite, and your choice of sleepwear was not exactly suited to the great outdoors, so you regretfully tuck away the lacy little chemise. You strip out of your clothes and pull on a pair of short shorts and an old Alderaan University hoodie—the best option you could find in your old bedroom at your parents’ house.

When you leave the tent, Grizzer stays behind. Hound watches you with an unreadable expression, and you worry that he’s still not having a good time. It’s time to break out the big guns.

“Are you ready to have your mind blown, trooper?” you ask with a flirty look.

He sits forward immediately. “What did you have in mind?”

You bend over and rummage through the bags of groceries you’d bought on your way out of Aldera. When you straighten up, you notice his gaze lingering on your exposed legs. You toss him a packet of marshmallows.

“What are these for?” he asks.

You hand him a stick that you scavenged earlier in the day and teach him how to toast the marshmallows over the coals of the campfire. Hound’s immediately catches on fire, which you assure him is part of the experience.

“It’s not a real s’more if the marshmallow isn’t at least thirty percent carbon,” you say.

You show him how to sandwich the resulting crispy, molten marshmallow in between layers of chocolate and sweet biscuits, and the bliss on his face when he tastes it for the first time makes the entire trip worthwhile. You haven’t eaten s’mores in years, and you’ve forgotten how rich they are.

“I think I can only eat one,” you say.

“Not me,” he says. “I’ll eat the whole bag.”

You give him a delighted smile, pleased that he’s finally come around. Hound has such a sweet tooth. All the clones do, he tells you. Something to do with their enhanced metabolisms, and the fact that they rarely get to eat anything other than ration bars and bland mess hall food.

“These are incredible,” he mumbles around a bite. “Messy, though.”

“I can help with that,” you offer. You raise his hand to your mouth, licking the melted chocolate and marshmallow goo off his fingers. “After all, we both know you don’t like to get your hands dirty.”

His eyes widen, and for a moment, he forgets how to breathe. He swallows audibly. “You know, I take it back. Maybe camping isn’t so bad after all.”

You stand up and tug him to his feet, leading him to the tent. Inside, Grizzer has completely claimed one entire bedroll for herself.

“I guess we’ll have to share,” you say, already planning what kind of treat to give the massiff as a thank-you.

“Oh, no, anything but that,” Hound murmurs as he draws you close to him, running his hands down your back to squeeze your ass. “You know, with the lights on in the tent, I could see everything when you were changing.”

“Everything?” you ask, tipping your head back to gaze up into his beautiful amber eyes.

“Well, maybe not everything,” he admits. He slips a hand inside your hoodie to caress the bare skin of your back.

“Maybe we should turn them off so we don’t scandalize all those wild animals you’re so worried about,” you tease.

“Let them watch,” he says, pulling you into a searing kiss.

Your tongue brushes against his softly. He tastes like sugar and chocolate, and you melt into him. Your hands roam over his body, sliding the jacket down his arms, tugging at his belt. You silently thank the Force that he’s wearing civvies instead of his armor. Once you’ve gotten his trousers off, you both sink to your knees onto the bedroll so you can take his shirt off without hitting the low ceiling of the tent.

You press him backward until he’s lying down, and you move to straddle him. You’re still wearing your shorts and hoodie, and something about being fully clothed while sitting astride the very naked, very aroused man is intoxicating. You trail your hands over his smooth, brown skin, tracing his tattoos and massaging the hard muscles of his torso. He raises a hand to cup your face, and you kiss the gnarled, twisting scar on his forearm—a memento of a training accident with a young massiff. You roll your hips against him, feeling the hard length of his cock pressing against you through your shorts. He slides his hands up under your hoodie, cupping your breasts before lifting the garment off over your head. The air is chilly, and your nipples stiffen instantly.

“Oh, fuck, look at those perfect tits,” he groans. “Come here, babygirl. Let me taste you.”

You lean forward, and he captures one of your nipples in his mouth. Jolts of arousal flash through you. His large, rough hands are warm against your back, and you can’t hold back a moan of pleasure.

Grizzer huffs an annoyed snort, and without looking at the massiff, Hound commands, “Grizzer, stand guard.”

She stands with a grumble and pushes out of the tent. You hear the heavy thump as she sits down outside the opening.

“Are you telling me you could have gotten that bedroll back this whole time?” you demand with mock severity.

“Where would have been the fun in that?” Hound asks with a smug grin. “Darlin’, you look hot as kriff in those shorts, but I think it’s time to take them off.”

He holds you against his body and flips both of you over in one smooth motion so you’re lying on your back. You let out a whoop of laughter at the unexpected movement.

“Shh, you don’t want the wolf-cats to hear you and come eat us,” he teases, nipping playfully at your skin as he kisses his way down your torso.

“That’s true,” you say. “I’d rather get eaten by a Hound.”

You raise your hips, and he tugs down your shorts, then lifts your legs in the air to remove them. Before you can lie back down, he kneels and drapes your thighs over his shoulders.

“Nice trick,” you say. “Is that the kind of quick thinking that got you into ARF training?”

“They only accept the best,” he says as he lowers his face to your body.

He dips his tongue into you, sliding over your clit and into your entrance without hesitation. You arch off the bedroll with a cry, and he lays a reassuring hand on your abdomen, pressing you back down as he feasts on you. With his other hand, he strokes up and down your thigh, finally coming to rest against your ass as he grazes his thumb over your pussy.

“Oh, fuck, Hound, don’t stop,” you whisper.

“Hmm?” he asks, pulling away. “Sorry, what was that? I don’t think the wolf-cats heard you.”

“Kriff you, Hound, shut up and eat my pussy,” you laugh, tangling your hands in his long black curls and shoving his head back down.

He chuckles against your clit and gets back to work. Between his clever tongue and his skilled fingers, he soon has you writhing and begging beneath him, and then he does something impossibly wonderful inside you, and you shatter with a hoarse moan, squeezing your thighs around his head as you grind against his mouth.

And then he is on you, sliding into your tight heat. He fucks you without mercy, wringing a second orgasm out of you almost before you finish your first. You hold on for dear life as he pounds into you, growling words of praise and filth into your ear.

“Look at you, beautiful girl, taking my cock like a champ. Love the way you wrap those soft, perfect thighs around me, oh fuck, sweetheart. So warm, so fucking wet. Come on, baby, think you’ve got one more in you?”

You nod weakly and let out an incoherent sound, unable to form words. He reaches down to rub your clit, pressing against your lower belly. Faster than you think possible, you feel your body winding in on itself again.

“That’s my girl, my pretty girl. Fuck yeah, baby, come on—kark, you feel amazing, oh shit,” he pants. “Give me one more, honey, before I fill your sweet little pussy up with my cum. One more for your grumpy daddy, come on love.”

“YES!” you scream as the tension in your body snaps again and you convulse around his cock, bucking up against him over and over until your head is empty and your body is swamped with bliss.

He follows you into his own orgasm, thrusting hard as he empties deep inside you and collapses onto you, breathing hard.

“Fuck, baby,” he says. “You’re incredible.”

You lie that way for a long time, tangled together, until he raises himself off of you to lie on his side as he plays with your hair. You turn to face him.

“Daddy?” you ask with a tiny smile.

He shrugs. “It felt right in the moment. Did it bother you?”

You shake your head. “Nope. Just filing it away for future reference.”

He laughs and presses a kiss to your forehead, and within moments, you fall into a deep, dreamless sleep.

The soft light of an early summer morning filters through the canvas of the tent. You awaken slowly, feeling deliciously warm and safe. As you drift towards consciousness, you feel weight pressing against you from both sides, and you realize that at some point during the night, Grizzer has joined you and Hound on your bedroll, sandwiching you between her and the trooper. You are wrapped securely in Hound's strong arms, your legs tangled between his, and his fingers are interlaced with yours. You hear the melodic chirpings of avian-song outside the tent, and you snuggle closer to Hound, feeling his warm, even breaths against your shoulder, and lower, something suspiciously hard nudges against your thigh.

It may not be the romantic getaway you had planned, but this may be your favorite holiday ever.

---

Tagging: @blueink-bluesoul @secondaryrealm @spicy-clones @wings-and-beskar @imarvelatthestars

#1000 words of smut #dystopicjumpsuit writes #star wars tcw #hound x reader #hound x you #sergeant hound x reader #sergeant hound x you #sergeant hound #clone trooper hound #dj's fic migration

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galesdekariios · 5 months

Text

Betrayal (Gale x Wynmoira)

Hello lovelies! I wrote a little thing for my babes, Wynmoira and Gale. It's a little angsty but I couldn't help but have a little inspo during my playthrough to write. More will definitely come from them, so be on the lookout!

Part [1] (you are here). Part [2].

can find it on my ao3 here

The branches crunched beneath Wynmoira's feet. Her body ached all over; she was sticky, covered in a thick layer of blood, guts, and goo. A few strands of hair stuck firmly against her moist cheeks. Gods, was she desperately in need of a bath. She couldn't wait to be free of her ruined clothing, to submerge herself entirely in the warm waters by camp. A faint smile crept on her lips at the thought alone.

Wynmoira, Shadowheart, Astarion, and Gale were returning from their battle against Auntie Ethel. The battle was a rough one; Wynmoira was distracted the entire time. Her mind kept going elsewhere, causing her to miss a few spells here and there. If it weren't for Shadowheart dealing the final blow, Wynmoira probably wouldn't have returned to camp in one piece. Shadowheart didn't let it go unnoticed. She called her out for her lack of action, which Wynmoira quietly apologized for. She eventually went silent, too tired to continue arguing. Her eyes then glanced over to Gale.

His face was equally covered in blood, guts, and goo. He was just as tired and beaten as she was. But he walked with a stride that she always secretly admired. But right now, she couldn't feel admiration for the man. She felt a twang of jealousy, slight anger. Before their battle, he finally admitted why he needed to consume magical items. He was a walking time bomb, and it was all because of his intense love for Mystra, the Goddess of Magic herself. Hearing him go into brief detail about his love for her goddess brought a sour taste to her mouth. At first, she found it disrespectful to her deity. But then, feelings of jealousy began to form.

They had been traveling together for quite some time now. They've spent countless nights around a campfire, enjoying Gale's cooking for the group, discussing their favorite books, and making one another laugh during these troubling times. Whether she wanted to admit it to herself or not, Wynmoira began falling for the man. Things have changed since that night when they were messing around with the Weave. There were longing glances from time to time, her strong desire always to have Gale accompany her during their outings, even opening up more to him about her past. She felt more comfortable with him, something she hadn't experienced in so long.

But now, she can't help but feel like all that was for nothing.

"I hope Karlach has something cooked up. Honestly, I could go for a nicely cooked chevon," Gale smiled, gently patting his stomach. His eyes fell onto Wynmoira. Her breath caught in her chest momentarily as she locked eyes with him. "What about you, Wynnie?"

Wynnie. It was something only Gale would call her. Typically, hearing it brought small butterflies to her stomach and made her heart race. But now, it was different. It was like a punch to the gut. Reminding her that despite how close they had been becoming, it would never be as close as he was with Mystra. She mentally cursed herself for thinking such negative thoughts about her patron. She cursed Gale, too, for making her feel this way.

"I'll settle for berries," Wynmoira replied flatly. The smile fell from Gale's face, and he watched as Wynmoira picked up pace, now leading the tired group. Some smoke could be seen in the distance, letting the party know they were almost home. Wynmoira pushed past a few branches until she saw their camp. Karlach was gathered around the campfire, eating soup from a bowl and chatting with Wyll. Their eyes darted towards the incoming crowd, smiling.

"About damn time you got here," Karlach called out with a large smile. "I made soup," she raised a bowl towards Shadowheart. "And it's edible," Wyll teased, earning a playful kick from Karlach. Shadowheart smiled faintly, letting out a tired laugh. She didn't hesitate to make it to her tent. No doubt, she wanted to be free of dirt and bodily fluids before chowing down.

"I'm sure it'll be great, Karlach," Wynmoira smiled. "Just gotta freshen up first, then I'll join you guys." She turned her attention to her chest that rested beside Shadowheart's tent. She carefully undid a few of her bindings, allowing her to remove her armor and place them on the ground, leaving her in her dirtied tunic. Beside the chest was a bucket of water. She scrubbed the grime off her hands and fingers for a few minutes before being satisfied. She grabbed a change of clothes and a cloth to help her dry off after her bath. She made her way through the woods. There was a small river nearby, one that only Wynmoira seemed to know about. She tossed her change of clothes on a small stump before she began to free herself from her blood-soaked clothing slowly. The material practically stuck to her skin, and after a few moments of struggling, she was finally free. She tossed the clothes on the ground and slowly entered the river.

The water was cool on her skin, and she welcomed it. The night seemed hot, and the stark contrast was something she welcomed. She didn't stop until the water was just barely below her collarbone. She wiped at her skin under the water, trying to loosen the gunk from her body. She then pinched her nose, dipping beneath the water. She stayed under for a few moments, enjoying the silence. There were no chirping birds, no sounds of a busy city, no voices.

Just her.

For that moment, she could forget about everything. She could forget about her urges, pushing her to do horrendous things to innocents. She could forget about the tadpole wiggling around in her skull. She could forget about the trouble within the Grove. But most importantly, she could forget about Gale. Be free of the thoughts that plagued her mind, the thoughts of him making love with Mystra.

When she couldn't handle it anymore, she came up for air. She let out a few deep breaths. She was pushing herself, maybe even punishing herself. Why did she let herself get close to Gale? Why did she have to let him in? If she kept him at arm's length like she did everyone else, maybe she wouldn't be feeling this way. Why was he so nice, so welcoming?

Why did he have to tell her about him sleeping with Mystra?

Damn. She cursed under her breath, realizing how aggressive she was being with her hands as she scrubbed at her body. It didn't take long until she was clean, free of dirt or grime. She exited the water, dried herself off, and changed into clean clothes. She wrapped her dirty clothes in the cloth and carried it back to camp before discarding it with her dirtied armor. She made her way to the campfire, where Gale had joined Wyll and Karlach.

He was clean; his hair was wet with nice waves that rested just slightly past his shoulders. He had a large smile, which used to bring butterflies and warmness to Wynmoira's face. She said nothing to him, focusing on the soup Karlarch had made that rested in a pot above the fire. She made herself a bowl before sitting next to Karlach, wanting to be as far away from Gale as possible.

"And after all that, it turns out the old Hag tricked the poor girl! Her husband came back all right but as a zombie!" Gale boomed. He recounted their adventure, a sharp reminder to be careful about what you wished for. He took a spoonful of soup before turning his attention to Wynmoira. He noticed how quiet she was. His brows furrowed as he tried to study her, reading her face to figure out what was wrong. "Wynnie, are you all right?"

"I'm fine," she replied flatly. She brought a spoon to her lips, sipping on the soup. It wasn't anything too special. It was potato soup, though there were some uneven chunks of potato. Despite the possible choking hazard, the soup wasn't too bad.

"Are you sure? You're more quiet than usual," Wyll asked. Karlach gave Wynmoira a slight nudge with her arm, carefully searching her companion's face. Wynmoira's lips were slightly downturned, and Karlach could tell something was off. Wynmoira locked eyes with the Tiefling momentarily and gently shook her head.

"I think we should call it a night," Karlach suggested. She then yawned, stood up, and headed to Wyll. "Besides, we got a long day ahead of us tomorrow, and you need your beauty sleep," she teased Wyll. He scoffed playfully at her words as he stood up. He said his goodnights to Wynmoira and Gale before leaving the two alone at the campfire.

The silence was loud between the two. The only noise between the two was the crackling of the fire before them. Wynmoira tried to enjoy her dinner, but she had no appetite. She idly stirred her soup before Gale finally broke the silence between them.

"Was it something I did?" He asked finally. Wynmoira took a deep breath before she spoke. She was mentally trying to play out this scenario. Does she tell him the truth, a half-truth, or a lie? She wasn't ready to come out and say she was jealous of her patron or feeling insecure about it all.

"I just..." She paused for a moment, trying to think of what to say. "I just didn't like how you kept your orb a secret," she lied. Her eyes finally lifted from her soup, meeting his dark brown eyes. "I thought we were friends, honest with one another, no secrets, you know?"

He breathed, placing his bowl on the ground before settling beside her. He radiated a warmth she'd come to love. A warmth she found so welcoming, a warmth she'd come to crave. But now, she felt uneasy.

"I know I should've said something sooner. Frankly, I didn't know how to go about telling it. And thought I had everything under control." He rubbed at the back of his neck sheepishly.

"But you don't," Wynmoira protested. "You're a ticking bomb, and you did all this for power? For a woman?" Her voice cracked slightly. She felt a lump form in her throat as she felt herself grow a mixture of anger and sadness. He was willing to risk his life all for power. He didn't have to do that. She would've never made him do something so reckless, she thought.

He sighed, breaking eye contact with Wynmoira. "You don't understand. You don't know what it's like to be loved by Mystra. It's a powerful thing, something so strong it hurts, something that can't ever be matched."

His words stung. The way he talked about their relationship, it made her heart sink. She couldn't compete with something like that. She hoped for something special with Gale, but there was no way he'd go for someone like her. She was a simple human, there was nothing truly special about her. How could she ever be better with the Goddess Mystra? She felt her eyes begin to sting, tears quickly forming and threatening to fall down her cheeks. She couldn't cry. She didn't want him to see her like this.

"Nothing is worth risking your life like that." She placed her bowl on the ground. She stood up, ready to leave him alone, but she was stopped when he reached out to her, crabbing her wrist.

"Wyn, don't go," he pleaded. She hated herself for feeling like this. She hated herself for trusting him so easily. She hated herself from letting herself fall for him. She hated him for welcoming her. She hated him for making her believe that there was a chance for her to be happy, to find happiness with someone. But he was still caught up on his love for Mystra. Her eyes met his and his mouth dropped slightly.

No doubt he could see the tears forming in her eyes. A tear or two had fallen down her cheek, and his heart sunk. She was crying, and it was all because of him. The last thing he wanted was to hurt her. He tried to open his mouth to protest her leaving, but she cut him off.

"I think it'll be best for you to stay at camp for a bit," she quietly said. She sniffled before her eyes meeting his. Her stare was colder than normal. "It's been a rough couple of days. You could use the rest." She wiggled her wrist free from his grasp before retreating to her tent for the night.

#bg3 #bg3 tav #baldur's gate 3 #gale dekarios #gale of waterdeep #gale x tav #gale drabble #bg3 oc #*my writing #oc: wynmoira #ship: cause i'll love you for infinity

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